LITTLE BOY LOST
by
Phoenix
Chapter 15
The Chapters
Fenton Hardy sat in a hard-backed chair next to the sleeping figure in the small hospital bed and just stared, mesmerized by his little boy.
“My little Joey…” he spoke low, “look at you…you’re all grown up.” Two years had made a difference in the youngster. The child was still fundamentally Joey, the same corn-silk colored hair and expressive vibrant blue eyes, but there was a paleness on his face and a gauntness in his features that hadn’t been there before. Even in his sleep, tension and sadness flittered just beneath the surface.
Fenton knew they’d never know everything that had happened to Joe during his two years away…and it scared him; terrified him that at the tender age of eight, one quarter of his son’s life was a mystery and would always remain so, no matter how much the boy told them.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen until you got older.” Fenton’s fingers absently traced a gentle line down the child’s face as he spoke. Joe shifted under his touch, sighed deeply and then re-settled again. The sedative would be wearing off soon.
The doctors had done a thorough check and assured the detective that other than being slightly underweight for his age, Joe was fine, physically. No bruises. No sign of molestation…. However, the extent of emotional damage was yet to be seen.
Joe’s frantic insistence that he was ‘Jason’ and his absolute melt-down when confronted with the contrary, evidenced that he’d been brainwashed or emotionally manipulated, but it was yet to be seen just how intensive that programming was…
How difficult would it be for Joe to fit back into his old life?
Would he accept his place back in the Hardy family?
Or would this scar and cripple him forever?
There were no quick answers. It all rested within the mind of the blond haired little boy who started to shift more restlessly as consciousness slowly returned.
Fenton watched with increasing nervousness. He had no idea how Joe was going to react when he woke up.
A quick glance at the time told him Laura and Frank would be there within the hour. He leaned closer to the bed, “C’mon, Joey,” he gently encouraged, hoping to do some damage control before the rest of his family arrived, not sure how they would react if Joe rejected them. “It’s okay, son, you can open your eyes…” The child turned towards his voice, a small frown pursed his lips as his forehead crinkled in confusion. Fenton’s heart started to pound. “C’mon, son,” he continued to cajole softly, “that’s it…open your eyes…Daddy’s here…”
And Joe did.
Sleep-dulled blue eyes slowly opened and locked onto Fenton. The detective held his breath, waiting as he was regarded with first curiosity and then suspicion. Slowly the little boy turned his head, his gaze wandering the rest of the room, until it finally returned to Fenton. The unreadable look on the child’s face chilled the man. He had no idea what his son was thinking or feeling – it was so unlike Joe that it drove home like another painful spike to the heart, just what had been lost in their two years apart….
He opened his mouth to say something but Joe spoke first.
“Am I dead?”
The innocent question shook the detective.
“No!” The word launched violently and the child flinched. Fenton immediately moved to apologize but Joe spoke again:
“Are you dead?”
This time the man did keep from shouting. He shook his head. “No, son—” another flinch, “you’re fine. I’m fine. We’re fine.”
Joe scrutinized him for a moment and then gave a solemn nod. “Okay.”
“Joey—” Fenton started.
“Jason,” his son corrected.
This time it was Fenton who flinched. He chose to ignore the correction. “Do you know who I am?” He held his breath as he waited for his son to answer.
For a long moment, Joe just continued to watch him and then slowly he nodded his head again. “Yes, sir.” The man took a shaky breath – that was good – he gave an encouraging smile for the child to continue. “You’re not real.”
That was the last thing Fenton had expected to hear. He stared open mouthed at the child. “What?” The whispered word tore air from his tortured lungs as it felt like he couldn’t breathe.
“Mommy says I have a very good imagination,” Joe continued, seemingly unperturbed by the man’s reaction, “a really good one.” He dropped his eyes and fiddled with the blankets as his tone lowered. “Even Daddy says so and he never says much to me…” A brief flash of resentment lit the youngster’s face, “Except to stay inside. He always wants me to stay inside.”
Strangely enough that little spark gave Fenton hope…
“You think I’m not real?” the detective couldn’t wrap his mind around this, “but I’m here, sitting right beside you, talking to you…” His voice trailed off.
Joe shrugged as he settled against the bed and closed his eyes, “You do that some times…when I’m sleeping. I see you then – ” he turned on his side away from his father, “sometimes.”
“Joey—”
The child whirled back towards him angrily, “Stop calling me that! I told you my name is Jason. Ja-son!”
The door to the room opened, interrupting the boy’s tirade as a soft-faced nurse hurried in, alerted by the child’s outburst. “Is everything okay in here?” She cast Fenton an inquiring look as she moved towards Joe.
Wearily Fenton leaned back in the chair. “Yeah.” Watching as the nurse fussed with trying to get the child settled under the covers again, the man slowly stood up. “Is Dr. Jared on the floor? I’d really like to talk to him.”
“He’s checking charts at the nurses’ station,” the woman replied affably as she winked at Joe, “I’ll stay with Junior if you want. It’s not everyday I have a patient as cute as him.”
Joe didn’t seem to notice the comment as his eyes were once again firmly fixed on Fenton. The detective wasn’t sure but he thought the little boy tensed when the man moved away from the bed and towards the door. “Thank you.” He accepted the woman’s offer even as he paused, reluctant to leave but needing both a moment for himself and a chance to talk a bit more to the physician. “I’ll be right back,” he tried to assure Joe.
Joe never said anything but Fenton could feel the weight of his gaze as he left the room.
…
Dr. Jared was a young man, probably somewhere around Fenton’s age, but he carried himself professionally and quickly earned the detective’s respect with the way he dealt with both Joe and the unique situation they presented. His gaze was somber and empathetic as he listened to Fenton’s concerns about Joe’s continued insistence that he was ‘Jason’, and the child’s remarks about Fenton being a figment of his imagination.
“I just don’t know what to do,” the distraught father admitted, not used to this kind of impotence. “I don’t know if I should continue to confront him or if I should go along with him…he just gets so upset whenever I correct him about his name.”
The young physician directed Fenton away from the busy nurses’ station and towards a quieter corridor. “Your son has been through a very traumatic event,” he reminded needlessly, “and I have to admit child psychology isn’t my field, however, I’m inclined to suggest you refrain from continued confrontation. You want your son to start to trust you again. I’m not saying he doesn’t trust you now,” the doctor held up his hand to stop the protest half formed on Fenton’s lips, “he just mightn’t remember that yet….Anyway, I’ll page Dr. Scoffield and tell him Joey’s awake. He’s our staff child psychologist and has had a lot of experience dealing with traumatized children. I’m sure he’ll be in shortly to talk to both you and Joey so until then, just – just let him know he’s safe…. I think that’s really the best we can do right now.”
Fenton exhaled loudly as he scrubbed a hand across his tired face. Dr. Jared clasped him briefly on the shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Mr. Hardy…you got him back, that is more than half the battle.”
“I know,” the detective admitted, a sad look settling on his face, “but I’m just beginning to wonder if that might have been the easy part.”
The doctor gave a non-committal smile and then excused himself to go check on another patient. Fenton watched him leave as he mulled over the other man’s words but before he could decide on their merit, a frantic voice called his name from down the hall –
“Fenton!”
“Dad!”
Laura and Frank were here.
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Disclaimer
The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.