William smiled as he stood up and moved away from Joe, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Coming to stand in front of Frank he pulled the gun out of his waistband again and said sounding bored, “I think by now we all the know drill…you try anything…I shoot Joe.”

Frank just glared at him waiting for whatever the hell he was going to do next.

Will came around behind Frank and cut the rope holding his legs to the chair legs.  Then he undid the handcuffs and Frank began massaging his wrists through the nylon.

“Okay here’s the deal”, Will said stepping back to Joe and holding the gun on Frank, “you’re going to get your wish.  You get to touch your precious brother, “Will sneered, “pick him up and carry him downstairs.  To the living room. Put him on the couch and then step back. Is that understood?”

Frank nodded only too pleased that he’d be the one moving Joe.  At least this way he could make sure William didn’t try anything as he knew the twisted twin would be none too gentle if he did the carrying.

It took a few minutes for Frank to get enough feeling back in his arms and legs to even move.  And surprisingly enough Will waited patiently.

Finally Frank crouched down next to his unconscious brother and as gently as he could, picked him up.

A soft moan broke his heart and he apologized silently not willing to put William’s wrath on Joe again with any open show of affection.

Will opened the door as Frank carefully maneuvered his precious burden through the doorway, down the stairs and into the living room.  He was alarmed by how hot Joe felt and how gray his face was.  He knew the burns on his brother’s back were weepy and he could feel their heat on his arms. Swallowing back the bile, he knew they were badly infected and he prayed his father would hurry up and get home.  Joe needed antibiotics and then as Frank heard the gasping breath, he amended.  Joe needed antibiotics and much… much more.

* * *

Biff sat down on the bottom step and finished tying his shoe.  Enough was enough, he was going by the Hardy house to see Frank and Joe.  He couldn’t stop the nagging feeling that he was already to late.

Too late for what, he had no idea.  But with his stomach churning butterflies, he started to jog the couple of blocks to Joe’s house.

* * *

As Con Riley drove towards the house, he dabbed at his split lip with a tissue, “Dammit Fenton”, he growled, “why’d you have to pick the hard way!”

* * *

Fenton Hardy was only a couple of blocks from his house before he managed to calm himself down.  His jaw ached from where Con hit him but it was nothing compared to the turmoil that was going on inside him.

He felt like he was being torn and he wished Laura was here to back him up as he dreaded the talk he was going to have with his youngest son.

Calling the Helpline, that was the final straw.  Fenton shook his head sadly wondering how Joe could carry such anger towards his brother for an accident.  And then he remembered Joe telling him he had witnessed it.

“Damn,” hissed the detective slamming his fist against the steering wheel.  Joe needed help and he just wished he had realized it earlier.  You don’t witness something like that and not carry some sort of scars… especially ones you can’t see.

With a new determined glint in his eye, Fenton decided it was time this family sat down and had a much needed talk.  And then afterwards he would see that both Joe and William got the help they so desperately needed.

* * *

Frank started to lower Joe as gently as he could onto his stomach on the couch but William stopped him, “On his back, Frankie.  He’s a part of this.”

Gritting his teeth as William patted the gun affectionately, Frank apologized silently to Joe and then with as much care as possible, he put his brother on his back.  His heart wrenched when he heard an almost inaudible hiss of pain.

Sorry Joe…

“Okay Frankie”, William said satisfied with what he’d done, “now we play.”

* * *

Once again Frank was handcuffed but this time his hands were in front of him and this offered him some hope.  He just had to wait until William let his guard down…and then maybe… just maybe he could overpower him.

William moved back towards Joe and smiled, “Okay now I bet you are just dying to know what the Mystery Game is…well I’ll give you a clue…”

The older boy was starting to get an incredibly bad feeling about it as he saw William looking down at the gun with undisguised affection, “for lack of a better name I call it Russian Roulette with a twist.”

Frank gasped painfully as something powerful gripped his heart and squeezed… Russian Roulette?

Oh no…one of them was going to die… right now!

Without thinking of the consequences, Frank took his chance.  Mustering his strength he threw himself into Will who had glanced at Joe for a second.

Knocking the other boy down, Frank brought up his hands and tried to get the gun away from him.  However, in his weakened state, he was in no shape to fight and as William brought down the butt of the gun against the back of his skull, Frank rolled off him groaning and trying to keep from passing out.

He couldn’t lose consciousness…he couldn’t.  He knew if he did, Joe would be dead when he awoke.

“Stupid Frank… stupid…”  William snarled as he stood up and looked down at him.  Frank squinted against the pain as he raised his head to look up, “I was going to let you enjoy his company for a little while longer but it seems you’re anxious to get this over with.  So we’ll begin.”

Walking over to Joe, William placed the gun against his head and then with his eyes locked firmly on Frank’s, he pulled the trigger.

“NOOOOO!” screamed Frank as he tried to hurl himself at William again but nothing happened.

Just a click as William kicked at Frank to keep him away.

The chamber was empty.

Sinking down in relief, Frank bowed his head for one moment and took a deep, shuddering breath. 

Now it was his turn.

But William didn’t move away from Joe and when Frank slowly looked up at him he explained, “Now Frankie…here’s the twist.  There is no turn taking in my game.”

He pressed the gun back to Joe’s forehead again and started to squeeze the trigger, “it’s all about Joe…”

And then all hell broke loose.

* * *

Fenton Hardy was just glad to finally be home. 

But looking up at his house, he took a deep breath and headed towards the front door.  He was not looking forward to this at all.

Opening the door, he froze for a fraction of a second.

He had one horrifying…desperate thought…

Oh my god, I’m too late…Joe’s finally lost it!

And then he was flying across the room…

* * *

Biff saw Mr. Hardy go into the front door and he almost turned back…almost.

But then the sound of a gunshot sent him hurtling up the stairs and into the house.

He was in no way prepared for the sight that greeted him.