Remembering the exact moment he and Fenton had found Joe was always painful. Right after returning to Bayport he had tried to forget it ever happened but that only caused the memory to grow. When it started to torment him during the day as well as while he slept, Frank decided to face it head on. As hard as it was, Frank forced himself to recall the gruesome details, reliving every harrowing minute. He had broken down and cried again, just as he had done that night. But he had also been able to exorcise the ghosts that seemed intent on denying him a moments peace.

When Fenton announced that Frank would be expected to recall the agonizing experience yet again, in front of a roomful of strangers no less, Frank panicked, certain his reaction would be no different than it was that night. However, while running on the treadmill he realized there had been many times in the past six months that something would trigger the memory of finding Joe so close to death. Yet the emotional breakdown he always expected never materialized. It hurt – a lot – to see the vivid images in his mind, but he no longer lost control when they appeared.

Frank had been embarrassed and a little ashamed at the way he’d sobbed that night. Fenton Hardy had been a rock, taking charge, treating Joe’s injuries and getting him to a hospital as quickly as possible while Frank had barely remained coherent. Fenton hadn’t shed a tear, pushing his fears and emotions down and burying them for the sake of his sons. Many times Frank wished he could have been more like his father that night – until now. Frank had faced the pain of seeing Joe so gravely injured, not knowing if he would survive, head on. It had been emotionally devastating at the time but Frank now understood it was the best thing he could have done.

It would be painful today to talk about finding his brother, describing his gruesome injuries and exploiting them to make Handling happy, but he could get through it. Checking his appearance one final time, Frank headed for the kitchen hoping at some point in the last six months, his father had also taken time to grieve.

*****

Frank had been on the witness stand for well over two hours. He had described what had transpired from the time they left George DiSantos’ office until they had turned onto the obscure dirt road that eventually led them to Rashman, Malick and Joe. Frank had been watching his brother closely and was relieved to see that Joe seemed to be taking his testimony pretty well so far. As he continued speaking, Frank feared that was all about to change for both of them.

"Eventually we had to stop and continue on foot. There just wasn’t enough cover to hide a car," Frank responded.

"How far did you walk?"

"About half a mile and then we stopped."

"Why did you stop?"

"We found them," Frank replied, his voice having dropped considerably.

"Found who?"

"Rashman and his partner."

"And did you see your brother?"

Instinctively, Frank sought out his father, needing to connect with the person who had shared that horrifying moment. "Yes," he replied hoarsely, as the terror he’d felt when he first saw Joe came rushing back to him. His eyes burned and his voice began to quiver. "He was chained to a fence…unconscious."

Joe closed his eyes to block out the grief on his brother’s face. A chorus of gasps echoed around him but Joe heard only the soft whimper to his right.

‘Vanessa…why did I let her come?’ Joe had never told Vanessa all the grisly details of what he had to endure and she had never pressed, knowing how hard it was for him to remember.

Handling continued pressing Frank for details of Joe’s battered condition causing more and more people to focus their attention on Joe. A few would try to steal a glance but most openly gawked at Joe, attempting to visualize the appalling scene as Frank described it. Vaguely, Joe wondered if Vanessa, Callie and his mother were doing the same thing. As if in silent answer, he heard Vanessa draw in a ragged breath, trying not to cry. Unable to look at her, Joe could only hold her hand tighter and tighter and hope that was enough. Feeling the crushing weight of the stares, Joe focused on a spot on the wall. Recalling the promise he’d jokingly made to his father the night before, Joe silently began to recite the words to the National Anthem.

*****

Frank watched the defense attorney warily. Matthew Barning silently paced back and forth in front of him. Frank was well aware of the fact that he was only the second witness Barning had chosen to cross-examine making him leery of how the man would try and distort his testimony. Stopping abruptly, Barning turned to Frank, catching him off guard.

"How many times did you shoot my client?" He asked bluntly.

Angry at the way the question was worded, Frank hesitated briefly before answering. "Twice."

"Once wasn’t enough?" Barning said sarcastically.

"No, it wasn’t," Frank automatically responded, cringing inside when he realized how it sounded.

"When you shot my client the first time, where was he struck?"

"Right hand," Frank replied in a clipped voice, vowing not to let Barning trip him up again.

"And what did he do?"

"He dropped the gun he was holding on Joe."

"And yet you found it necessary to shoot him again?" Barning asked, incredulous.

"He was lunging at Joe with a knife, so yes, I found it necessary to shoot him again to save my brother’s life," Frank replied evenly, refusing to be caught up in Barning’s game.

"So even though my client had already been shot by you once, he still went after your brother a second time, knowing he’d be shot again." Barning faced the jury as he reviewed the facts Frank had just confirmed. "Hardly the actions of a sane man. No further questions, Your Honor."

Livid that Barning had somehow been able to twist his testimony to make it appear Rashman was insane, Frank glared at Peter Handling. Since Frank had initially been called as a prosecution witness, he knew Handling could question him again after Barning had finished, to try to negate anything Barning might have been able to accomplish. Staring at the District Attorney, Frank hoped Handling was getting the message that he would not leave the witness stand until Handling had at least made an attempt to counteract the damage Barning had done.

‘Finally!’ Frank thought as Handling slowly rose from his seat.

"I’d like to redirect, Your Honor," the D.A. announced, approaching Frank.

"Go ahead," the judge replied.

"Frank, you testified that as you and your father approached the defendant he was holding a gun on your brother taunting him and preparing to shoot, is that correct?" Handling repeated what Frank had said moments earlier.

"Yes, that’s correct," Frank confirmed.

"You then shot him in the right hand, causing him to drop the gun, correct?"

"Yes."

"You said the defendant then pulled a knife and lunged at your brother."

"Yes," Frank agreed.

"Where did this knife come from? I assume it didn’t just magically appear in his hand," Handling asked sarcastically.

"He pulled it from a sheath that was attached to his belt," Frank replied, seeing the terrifying incident as if it had just happened.

"So he had the knife on him."

"Yes, he did," Frank concurred, now seeing where Handling was headed.

Handling glanced at the defense table, shaking his head as if scolding a child who’d just been caught in a lie. He then turned to address the jury.

"So after having been tortured for nearly twenty four hour s straight, Joe Hardy was chained to a fence, near death. He was helpless. Yet, the defendant approached him armed with both a gun and a knife, fully intending to use both weapons. In fact, he tried to use both weapons. Are these the actions of a man who is insane? Hardly. Are they the actions of a man with foresight, strategy and a plan? A man who was in complete control, knew exactly what he wanted to do and came prepared to so it? Absolutely."