"Your Honor…" he began only to be cut off by the judge.

"I’m one step ahead of you, Mr. Handling. This court will take a short recess and reconvene in fifteen minutes," he announced.

*****

Vanessa stared blankly at the television having no idea what movie she was watching. Consumed with thoughts of Joe, she’d spent more time watching the clock than anything else. With another glance at her watch, she sighed realizing it would be at least two hours before Joe returned. Suddenly her cell phone rang, startling both she and Callie. Picking it up, she checked the display and looked at Callie worriedly as she answered.

"Joe?"

"Hey, Baby," Joe said quietly.

"Honey, what’s wrong?" Vanessa asked alarmed. She had immediately picked up on the tone in Joe’s voice. Subdued, drained…overwhelmed.

"I just wanted to hear your voice, that’s all," Joe replied.

Vanessa relaxed slightly hearing the tenderness in his words. "I miss you," Vanessa said softly understanding that Joe needed something else to focus on besides himself and the trial, even if only for a few minutes.

"Me too."

"How does a nice quiet dinner sound? Just the two of us? We could have room service send up something," she suggested, selfishly wanting Joe all to herself that evening. "We could look through all those brochures I’ve been collecting and decide which deserted, tropical island will be lucky enough to host our honeymoon."

Vanessa smiled hearing Joe chuckle in response. "You schlepped those brochures all the way to Chicago?" he asked, amused.

"You betcha," Vanessa replied, relishing the sound of Joe’s laughter. "So what do you think?"

"I think it sounds perfect," he murmured.

"Good, I’ll make all the arrangements," she paused for a moment. "Joe, are you really all right?"

There was a brief silence and then Joe’s quiet response. "I am now. See you tonight. Love you, Babe."

"I love you, too," Vanessa replied in a hushed whisper. "Bye."

Hanging up the phone and placing it back on the end table, Vanessa swiped at her eyes roughly.

"You okay?" Callie asked gently.

Vanessa looked at her for a moment. Shaking her head, she didn’t attempt to hide the tears.

"When is this going to end?" She asked sadly.

Callie scooted closer to her friend and put an arm around the younger girl. Knowing there was no answer to that question, Callie simply held her friend as she cried.

*****

For the fourth time in two days, Joe found himself on the witness stand staring out into the packed courtroom. Speaking with Vanessa at lunchtime had made Joe realize how much he really had looked to her for support in previous days. At the same time, he was certain her not being present today was the right decision, no matter how much he needed her now.

The phone calls had been just enough to remind Joe that while the trial seemed to be dragging on forever, eventually it would end. Keith Rashman represented a horrible part of his past and his present, but Vanessa was his future. That thought would be all Joe needed to get through the rest of the afternoon. As Matthew Barning stood and approached him, Joe couldn’t help but glance at Rashman. He smiled inwardly thinking of their vastly different futures.

"Good afternoon, Joe," Barning smiled.

"Good afternoon," Joe replied.

"Joe, we’ve all heard about the awful injuries you suffered at the hands of my client. I understand the recovery process, particularly physical therapy, was especially difficult. Tell me, have you completely recovered from those injuries with no lasting effects?" Barning asked, sounding deeply concerned.

"Yes," Joe replied simply.

"I understand you are an extremely gifted athlete. Have you been able to resume participation in your favorite sports and activities?"

"Yes," Joe stated again.

"With no ill effects? No decrease in performance?"

"No," Joe continued his one-word answers thinking he didn’t want to give Barning anything he could use to his own advantage.

In the front row of spectators, Frank was livid. Barning was trying to make it appear he was sympathetic towards Joe and at the same time give the jury the impression what had happened to Joe wasn’t all that bad since he recovered and resumed his normal activities. The fact that Joe hated to ever appear weak was playing right into Barning’s hands.

"I’m sure I speak for every person in this room when I say how impressed and relieved we are with your incredible recovery. Now, I’d like to clarify one part of your testimony if that’s all right with you?" Barning requested, smiling sincerely.

Frank’s anger continued to grow as he listened. Barning appeared to be deeply concerned about Joe’s mental state while Handling had almost reduced him to a basket case without even blinking an eye. It was something Frank was certain the jurors had also noticed and he knew it would be almost impossible for it not to cloud their judgment.

"Of course," Joe said stonily. ‘Like I have a choice!’

"Thank you. Now, you said there was one particular point in time when you noticed a change in my client’s attitude, is that correct?"

"Yes," Joe replied warily.

"Could you elaborate on that? How did his attitude change? A look? Something he said? Something he did?"

‘NO!’ Frank wanted to scream as Barning’s strategy suddenly became clear. If he could get Joe to admit Rashman suddenly started acting differently, more irrational or emotional or taking sudden pleasure in hurting Joe for no apparent reason, it would be the same as Joe admitting Rashman had gone crazy. If the victim admitted his assailant appeared insane, the jury would have no choice but to find the defendant not guilty.

"It was in his eyes," Joe replied. "It wasn’t just a job anymore. It was personal," Joe stared blankly into the crowd, instantly flashing back to that moment when he’d seen the change…

Joe shuddered, recalling what had happened next – salt being ground into his burned and blistered arm. As he began to hear the echo of his own screams of pain mingle with Rashman’s laughter, Joe shook his head and focused on Barning once again.

"I’m sorry, Joe, I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you, but we’re almost done," the defense attorney said sympathetically.

‘Damn you!’ Frank cursed silently, furious that Barning appeared to be showing more compassion for Joe in ten minutes than Handling had in ten days. He knew it was just an illusion but would the jurors know that too?

"At any time did my client appear to actually enjoy what he was doing to you? Did he ever smile, laugh or make jokes? Did he seem to take extreme pleasure in hurting you?" Barning asked his brow creased with concern for Joe.

Joe opened his mouth to speak and stopped immediately as it finally dawned on him what Barning intended to do. Joe looked to his father, the man who had taught him to always tell the truth no matter what. Confused and disillusioned, Joe had no idea how to respond to this question.

After he figured out the connection between Joe and Fenton, there had been many instances where Rashman took great care to inflict as much pain as possible on Joe. And he had enjoyed it immensely. There had been jokes, smiles and laughter, especially when Joe couldn’t contain his screams of agony. How could he possibly answer truthfully? It would be like giving Rashman a "get out of jail free" card.

‘Please, Dad,’ Joe stared at his father imploringly, ‘please tell me it’s okay to lie.’

As Fenton stared back at Joe, his brown eyes filled with regret, Joe felt the silence begin to suffocate him. Knowing he had no other choice, Joe made a last ditch effort to answer truthfully but with clarification. He knew Barning would try and shut him up the second he responded in the affirmative and only hoped he could blurt out at least part of an explanation before that happened.

"Yes, but he never-" Joe began only to be silenced by Matthew Barning.

"No further questions, Your Honor," the defense attorney said returning to his seat.

Joe’s infamous temper quickly rose as he glared at Peter Handling, his blue eyes shooting fire. ‘Do something!’

"Your Honor, I’d like to redirect," the D.A. replied standing and walking to the front of the room. "Joe, could you tell the court where you were on September 18^th, 19^th and 20^th of this year?"

Joe frowned wondering what that had to do with whether or not Rashman enjoyed torturing him. The frown was quickly replaced with obvious displeasure as he remembered all too well where he was.

"I was in the hospital." Joe replied evenly.

"Why were you hospitalized?"

"Objection." Barning called out. "That was two months ago. It can’t possibly have any bearing on this case."

"If I am permitted to continue the court will see it has a direct bearing on this case, specifically on Mr. Barning’s claim that Joe Hardy suffered no permanent injuries as a result of the abuse he suffered at the hands of the defendant."

"Overruled," the judge ruled, "the witness may answer the question."

"I had an infection." Joe said curtly, furious that his medical history was being opened up for everyone to see.

"People aren’t normally hospitalized for infections unless they are life threatening. Exactly what kind of infection did you have?" Handling asked.

"A systemic infection," Joe practically growled noting the predatory gleam had returned to Handling’s eyes.

Picking up a piece of paper off the table, Peter Handling began to read. "A systemic infection occurs when the microorganisms of a local infection gain access to the lymphatic or vascular system. If left untreated, it can result in death."

Retrieving yet another piece of paper, Handling approached the judge’s bench. "I would like to enter into evidence a statement from Dr. Neil Andress, an emergency medicine specialist and Joe Hardy’s treating physician on the dates in question. Dr. Andress states that Joe Hardy contracted a systemic infection because his body could not fight off an initial, localized infection in his wrists due to a compromised immune system.

"His immune system is compromised because his spleen had to be removed in May of this year. As Dr. Marston testified yesterday afternoon, when Joe Hardy was brought into the emergency room after being tortured by the defendant for almost twenty-four hours straight, he was near death. Dr. Marston performed emergency surgery and found that Mr. Hardy was literally bleeding to death internally from a ruptured spleen. This injury most likely occurred when he was beaten repeatedly for several minutes with a heavy chain.

"So while it may not be visible to Mr. Barning or anyone else for that matter, Joe Hardy does have a permanent injury as a direct result of the beating he received from the defendant. He has to live the rest of his life knowing an infection that would barely be noticed by the rest of us could easily be his death sentence."

Handling waited a moment, letting the jury absorb the new information before making his final point.

"Joe, at any time did Mr. Rashman appear to you to lose control at all?" Handling asked, knowing Barning couldn’t really object without negating his own cross-examination.

"No, he was in complete control at all times," Joe said, relieved that Handling was trying to counteract the damage Barning may have done.

"Despite the fact that he seemed to enjoy torturing you, he seemed to stick to a plan, did he not?"

"Yes, he did," Joe replied, hesitating for only a moment before getting a signal from Handling to keep talking. "Everything he used on me, except for the burning log, was in the trunk of his car."

"Did he at any time use anything he hadn’t brought with him? Anything he may have picked up off the ground in a moment of anger?"

"No, nothing."

"So he came prepared," Handling reiterated. "He had the chains, the leather straps, even the scorpions in his car, all ready and waiting to be used in turn. He even stopped to purchase water and salt obviously knowing full well what he wanted to do with them," he reminded the jury. "Anticipation, forethought, strategy and planning. Not the actions of an insane man. No further questions your honor," Handling returned to his seat with a self-satisfied smile.

*****

Joe laid on the floor contentedly, his eyes closed and his head resting in Vanessa’s lap. After a candle lit dinner in their own suite, Vanessa had spread out some pillows on the floor and sat down, beckoning Joe to join her. Determined to make Joe forget the trial for at least a few hours, Vanessa began reading brochures to him stopping frequently to pop a strawberry into his mouth or indulge his many requests for a kiss. Picking up yet another brochure, this one from the Bahamian tourist board, Vanessa opened it up and rattled off some of the names of the over 200 islands that made up the Bahamas.

"Cat Island?!" Joe laughed out loud. "Read that one. I want to know if you have to be a cat to stay there or are humans allowed on the island too."

"Cat Island's isolation makes it a perfect getaway for honeymooners," Vanessa read from the brochure, absently running her fingers through Joe’s hair. "Unspoiled white sand beaches, lush vegetation and friendly people abound on this southern Bahamian Island. Laid back and unhurried, Cat stretches for 50 miles, surrounded with white sand beaches, coconut palms and smiling faces. Come explore, play, relax, read, renew and refresh yourself. Swim, snorkel, fish or visit local settlements. Take a break from hurried schedules to walk on the beach. Revel in the joy of no stress, no phones, no television…sorry, hon, no cats."

"That’s okay, I’m a dog person. It sounds like my kind of place, though" Joe said teasingly. "I could take you hostage and no one would ever find you."

"Is that a promise?" Vanessa said seductively, leaning down for a lengthy kiss. A moment later, she straightened up with a devilish grin. "Okay, more of that later. Right now, it’s back to the honeymoon planning."

Picking up the brochure that had slipped from her fingers, Vanessa began to read again. "Attractions include beautiful, private beaches, the Cat Island Regatta, Hermitage atop Mount Alvernia, pink-sand beaches and historic plantations now in ruins dot the length of the island. Diving, snorkeling, swimming, canoeing, kayaking and shelling are just a few of the many activities to choose from." Vanessa’s voice trailed off as she skimmed the brochure searching for a description of the accommodations.

"Oh, Joe, listen to this!" she exclaimed. "The Estate House is a 2-bedroom, 2-½ bath home with a spectacular 360º view that includes north Cat Island and the Exuma Sound. It is very private and exclusive with access by a private road that guarantees your seclusion. The house features a spiral staircase to the roof deck for sunbathing or to capture the incredible views. A short walk down to the beach leads you to a deserted oasis for exploration, snorkeling, shelling or sunbathing. For those looking to get away from it all, this home is truly unique and offers a very special experience."

Vanessa looked down at Joe her blue-gray eyes sparkling with excitement. "Can we stay there? At the Estate House? Please?"

"Anything you want, Baby," Joe replied smiling at her enthusiasm. "If it’s the Estate House you want, it’s the Estate House you’ll get."

"You’re so good to me," Vanessa murmured sliding down on the floor next to Joe and wrapping her arms around him.

As Joe pulled her close, he realized he hadn’t thought about the trial once all night. For all intents and purposes, it was over, for him anyway. The following morning would be spent on closing arguments and then it was up to the jury. Although he was mentally tired and emotionally drained, Joe had made it through the trial with his sanity still intact.