The next morning, Frank Hardy stood waiting just inside the back entrance to the courthouse. He wanted to see Joe, talk to him one more time before the proceedings got underway. They had stayed out until almost 1:00 a.m. the night before. Probably not a good idea given what the day held in store but it simply couldn’t be helped. The two of them were having much too good a time ‘just being brothers’. All thoughts of the trial were gone; they had spent hours talking, laughing, joking….

‘Bonding.’ Frank thought with a smile. He hadn’t seen Joe so happy and carefree since the night of the anniversary party Frank’s parents had thrown for he and Callie. Frank laughed thinking Joe had been in rare form that night, keeping everyone entertained. The laugh faltered and the smile wavered as he wondered if he’d ever see his brother like that again.

"I’ll wait inside." Frank heard a female voice breaking into his thoughts.

Looking up he saw Joe and Vanessa standing in front of him locked in a tight embrace. They seemed to do that a lot these days, he had noticed, almost as if they somehow knew their days together were coming to an end. Without another word, Vanessa turned and walked down the hall, stopping just outside the courtroom.

"Hey, big brother." Joe smiled. Frank noted it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Hey, little brother." Frank smiled in return.

"Thanks for last night by the way."

"Shhh." Frank said glancing around. "People might get the wrong idea!" he grinned.

Joe just laughed and shook his head.

"Listen, Joe. I really need to say this so just let me get it out, ok?"

Joe nodded, not sure of what was coming.

"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for what they’re going to make me say today." Frank had promised himself he wasn’t going to cry, but the burning sensation in his eyes told him it was a promise he couldn’t keep. "Please know I don’t believe it. Not anymore. I’ll never forgive myself for believing it in the first place." The tears slid from his eyes as it hit him that his testimony today would be the most damaging of all for Joe.

Joe smiled at him sadly. "I really wish you would forgive yourself. I forgave you a long time ago." Joe reached out, patting his brother on the shoulder. "It’s ok, Frank. Really. It won’t be that bad. You’ll see."

Frank looked at his brother with new admiration. Here Frank was supposed to be the one supporting Joe and it turned out Joe was trying to make him feel better.

‘I guess that’s what brothers are for.’ Frank slung an arm over Joe’s shoulders and they walked slowly to the courtroom.

‘Calm down.’ Joe told himself. ‘You are not losing it.’

Joe had sat and listened to the testimony of Evan Graham, the young Bayport police officer Joe had been riding with the night Chris Taylor died. It had seemed pretty bad at first but somehow during the cross-examination, Andrew had been able to negate almost all the points Dennis Seevers had made.

Fenton Hardy had taken the stand just after the lunch break and even though his testimony was damaging, Joe felt confident Andrew could work the same magic as he had with Evan Graham. Joe thought he had a pretty good handle on things, until a moment ago when he inexplicably began to feel anxious, almost panic-stricken.

Under cover of the table, Joe was clutching the arms of his chair so tightly he was sure they would break. During his father’s testimony, he had been gripped with a terror so complete and overwhelming he was absolutely certain he was on the brink of a mental breakdown. Joe had been listening intently to his father answer the questions posed to him by the district attorney, when he was suddenly hit with images from…he wasn’t sure where.

He knew he hadn’t left the courtroom yet he was now in the room he had seen in his dreams; but he couldn’t be dreaming. He was wide awake, sitting in the courtroom. Still all he could see was the room where the little boy had seen the children being abused and molested.

"And when you arrived on the scene what exactly did you see?"

The room faded out. Joe was back in the courtroom. Dennis Seevers had just asked Fenton what he saw when he arrived at the abandoned warehouse. Joe's eyes darted around the room, trying to determine if anyone had noticed his momentary distraction. Everyone seemed to be transfixed by his father's testimony against him. A little unnerved, Joe drew in a shaky breath to try and calm himself, refocusing on his father's voice.

"Joe and Taylor were against the trunk of a car. They appeared to be struggling for control of a gun." Fenton answered, trying to tell the truth without casting any suspicion on Joe.

"Did you have clear view of this struggle?"

"No. Joe's back was to me so it was difficult to see exactly what was going on."

Without warning, Joe was back in the small bedroom. But the children weren’t there. And the people who had abused them were gone too. The room was empty except for a child huddled on the floor in the corner, crying. It looked like a little boy. He had blonde hair, but Joe couldn’t see his face.

Joe felt his heart start beating wildly. He knew this little boy from somewhere. The little boy was scared to death. Joe could feel it; and pain. Physical pain. Someone had hurt this little boy badly.

"The gun discharged." Joe heard his father's voice.

'Oh, my God…what just happened?' Joe thought.

Joe realized he had just missed a huge chunk of his father's testimony. He looked around anxiously. He was still in the courtroom, yet he had just been in that bedroom.

His father's voice started to fade. Joe was back in the room watching the hauntingly familiar little boy. Suddenly people came running into the room. People in uniforms. The police? A man ran in right behind them. He looked frantic with worry. The little boy looked up, saw the man and ran to him, leaping into his arms. The man swallowed the little boy up in his embrace, tears streaming down his face. He held onto the little boy as if he never wanted to let go.

"And what did he say?" It was Dennis Seevers' voice again. The man and the little boy were gone.

'What's happening to me?' Joe felt the panic start to build quickly. 'Dad. Listen to Dad. Focus.'

"He said he didn't do it." Fenton replied.

Joe listened to hear what his father would say next but his voice seemed to fade and was gone again…yet he wasn't. Joe was once again watching the man in his dream, holding onto the terrified little boy for dear life. The man looked up. Joe saw his face. And that was the instant Joe was certain he had finally lost his mind. The man was his father and when he was finally able to see the little boys face, he was looking at himself!

"Joe!" He heard his name being called from somewhere far away. "Joe, are you all right?"

Joe turned and looked into the worried face of his lawyer. "What’s wrong, Joe? You look like you’re ready to pass out."

Joe’s eyes darted around the room. It was the courtroom he was in. He became aware of a dull ache in his hands and looked down. His fingers were completely white from gripping the chair so hard, for so long. Drawing in a shaky breath, he looked up at the witness stand and saw his brother sitting there.

His father had been on the witness stand when Joe felt the terror overtake him and saw the little boy from his dreams. The little boy who had turned out to be him. But now Frank was up there.

'God, what’s happening to me?! It was me! That little boy was me! No. It couldn’t be. They were just horrible nightmares. It didn’t really happen. It wasn’t real.’’ Joe was gripped by a panic like nothing he had ever experienced.

"Joe." He heard his name once again and felt a hand gripping his arm tightly. He found he was still staring at Andrew. "I’m stopping these proceedings right now." Andrew said, realizing something was very wrong.

'Andrew?' Joe stared at him, willing himself to stay in the present.

"No!" Joe hissed, as Andrew made a move to stand. "I’m…I’m fine."

"You are not fine. What’s going on?" Andrew was no longer at all concerned about the trial, but was deeply concerned about Joe. He was pale and obviously terrified of something. It had taken Andrew a good two minutes or so to get Joe to acknowledge him. He had no idea how long Joe had ‘spaced out’ before he even noticed it.

"Nothing. I’m ok, now." Joe lied. He was far from ok and he knew it. But Frank was the last witness of the day and Joe felt he could hold it together until Frank was dismissed from the witness stand. If he was going to have a nervous breakdown, he was determined it was not going to happen in the middle of a packed courtroom. And having Andrew stop the proceedings would be almost as bad. "I’m fine. I just want this day to be over with."

Not sure he was doing the right thing, Andrew sat back and watched Frank continue his testimony, casting frequent glances at Joe.

Joe concentrated on what his brother was saying. He did not want those images to return. If he listened intently to every word Frank was saying, maybe he could hold them off, at least until he got home.

"So you clearly heard Chris Taylor surrender. Is that correct?" Dennis Seevers asked Frank.

"Yes." Frank replied.

The visions began flashing in front of Joe's eyes. A frantic car ride. A hospital emergency room. His father was there, but much younger. And Joe saw himself again, as a little boy. He was screaming now, clutching his father's coat. Someone was pulling on him, trying to tear him away from his father. His father was reluctantly giving him up, but Joe refused to let go.

"And after you heard him surrender, you heard the shot fired from your brother’s gun. Correct?"

Joe was here in the courtroom and yet he wasn’t. He could hear himself screaming for his father. Unbearable, heartbreaking wails. And pain. Physical pain as if he had been beaten. Now he could hear Frank's voice.

'Stay here.' Joe commanded himself. 'Stay in the present. Don't go back there.' Joe had no idea what was happening to him, but whatever it was he didn't want it to happen here. Seevers had asked Frank something about the gun being fired. He had to be close to the end of his testimony. 'I can do this. I can hold on until he's done.'

Frank winced at the question. "Yes."

Frank hadn’t been able to look Joe in the eye since he took the witness stand. If he had, he would have realized Joe had no idea what he was saying. He would have seen instantly, that Joe was completely unaware of what was taking place around him.

"And what did you do then?"

"I ran to Joe."

"Did you say anything to him?"

"Yes."

"What did you say?"

Frank swallowed hard. "I asked him what he had done."

'He asked me what I had done.' Joe found if he concentrated on repeating everything Frank said, he could keep his mind here in the courtroom. Something from his past, something terrifying, was trying to break through to the present. Something to do with the dreams and the children and the abuse.

"And what did he say?"

"He said ‘I didn’t do it, Frank. I didn’t kill him.’ "

'I didn't do it, Frank. I didn't kill him.' Joe repeated it to himself. He stared at his brother intently. Frank could keep him here in the present. Frank could save him from whatever it was that wanted to make itself known. Frank always saved him.

"And did you believe him?"

Frank was suddenly aware of how quiet the courtroom had become. Everyone was waiting for his answer.

"Mr. Hardy? Did you believe your brother when he said he didn’t kill Chris Taylor?"

"No." Frank saw Joe staring at him and found it took all the self-control he possessed not to break down in tears. Had he just helped get his brother convicted of murder?

"Mr. Worth, do you want to cross-examine?" Frank heard Judge O'Donnell ask.

'Finally! The jury can hear the truth instead of just bits and pieces.' Frank relaxed a slightly.

"Not at this time your honor." Andrew replied. He had been watching Joe carefully and realized something was seriously wrong. He had been ready to ask the judge for a recess when Joe seemed to regain some semblance of control. Joe had been listening carefully to Frank's testimony and ironically that seemed to calm him enough to remain focused. Andrew concluded it had to be just the sound of Frank's voice that Joe found comforting, as the testimony itself was probably the most damaging the jury had heard so far.

Frank stared at Andrew and he knew his jaw dropped. 'Why isn't he going to cross examine me? He can't leave the jury believing I thought Joe killed Taylor!'

As Frank watched Andrew he noticed that the attorney, was casting frequent, worried glances in Joe's direction. Taking a close look at his brother, Frank gasped inwardly.

'What's wrong with him?!'

It was clear that Joe just barely had a handle on his emotions. As bad as his testimony seemed, Frank couldn't help but feel there was something else wrong with his younger brother. To the casual observer, Joe appeared to be just a little flustered, but Frank knew his brother better than anyone. Joe was on the verge of falling apart and it was going to happen very soon.

"Mr. Hardy, you may step down." Judge O'Donnell said.

Frank left the witness stand, looking at Joe as he passed the defense table. Joe seemed to look right through him, as if it took all his concentration simply to stay in control. Frank continued watching his brother and saw that Andrew had to prompt him to stand when the judge was leaving the courtroom. As people began making their way to the doors at the rear of the room, Frank couldn't believe his eyes.

Joe turned and bolted through the gates at the front of the seating area. Without stopping and without a word to anyone he grabbed Vanessa's hand and ran from the courtroom, dragging Vanessa behind him.

Frank watched, momentarily stunned then looked at his parents, Callie and finally Andrew. They all wore matching expressions of shock and confusion. What in the world had just happened?

Frank saw Andrew approach his father, clearly concerned.

"What happened to him?" Fenton asked Andrew. Frank detected a note of panic in his father's voice.

"I don't know, but whatever it was, it's serious. He kept zoning in and out. His body was here but his mind was…I don't know where." Andrew said, worriedly. "I first noticed while you were testifying, Fenton. It took me a good two minutes to get through to him. And I have no idea how long he had been like that before I even realized what was going on. By that time Frank was on the stand. After that it happened several more times, but for shorter periods. I don't even think he knows exactly what happened. Whatever it was, it has him scared to death."

Frank immediately started for the exit, needing to see his brother; to make sure he was all right and help him if he wasn't. He felt someone grab his arm and was jerked to a stop. Whirling around, he was face to face with his father.

"I'll find out what's wrong. You have a plane to catch." Fenton said.

"Dad, I can't leave now!" Frank cried, incredulous.

"You don't have a choice, Frank. The prosecution rested its case today. We are running out of time. No matter what's wrong with Joe right now, this trial will go on. We need that evidence!" Fenton said, forcefully.

Frank was speechless. He knew his father was right, but how could he expect Frank to concentrate - to function - when Joe was so obviously on the verge of collapse.

"Please, Frank. I will take care of Joe." Fenton said, his voice softer. "I know how badly you want to be with him, but you have to find something to clear him. Go to the airport and get on that flight. Call me when you get to L.A. and I'll let you know what's going on."

Frank and Fenton exchanged a long look. Each knew exactly what the other was thinking. Joe was starting to remember. As Frank turned to leave the courtroom he couldn't help but feel that this was the beginning of the end.

Joe clutched Vanessa's hand tightly as he weaved his way through the halls of the courthouse. He had to get out of this building. His sanity depended on it. As the crowd of people thinned out Joe realized he was running, dragging Vanessa behind him. He burst through the back doors of the building into the early evening air. He slowed but did not stop. Not until he reached his car.

Joe reached out to unlock the car and the keys fell from his badly shaking hand. He felt his eyes start to burn.

'I have to get home. I have to get home.' Joe knew he would feel much safer, and saner, once he was in his own home.

Vanessa stooped down and picked up the keys. Unlocking the door, she nudged Joe into the passenger seat. Quickly running to the other side of the car, she got behind the wheel and headed for home. Every few minutes, she would cast a worried glance at Joe.

When he grabbed her hand and ran from the courtroom Vanessa was sure he was in the beginning stages of a nervous breakdown. She had watched him grow more anxious and fearful as the trial wore on. The stress was getting to him and she had wondered more than once if he would make it through the trial without falling apart. As she looked at him now, he seemed to calm down a little the further they got from the courthouse.

Not a word was spoken during the short drive home. By the time they arrived Vanessa was relieved to see Joe had regained some of his composure. The color had returned to his face and his breathing was closer to normal than it had been earlier when he was almost hyperventilating.

As they got out of the car, Vanessa wrapped an arm around Joe's shoulders and led him up the stairs to their apartment. When they walked through the door, she actually heard Joe breathe a sigh of relief. He turned to her and Vanessa put both arms around him and pulled him close. She could still feel him trembling slightly.

"It's ok, Baby. You're safe now." She said soothingly. "We're home."

Joe held on to her tightly. Concentrating on Vanessa, her arms wrapped securely around him, Joe finally allowed himself relax just a little. The visions he'd had in the courtroom were now far away although the fear they had ignited was still burning hot inside him. Several minutes passed before Joe felt he could actually let go.

Vanessa touched his cheek, worried about the fear she still saw in his eyes.

"What happened?" She asked softly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm not exactly sure what happened." Joe replied, his voice shaking slightly. "I started seeing images…visions. Something from my childhood. Flashbacks, maybe? I saw myself. But I was a little boy. And Dad was there, too. I was scared. Terrified. So was Dad. First we were in the room - the bedroom - that I always see in those dreams. It was like he had been looking for me. Then we were at a hospital. Someone was trying to pull me away from him, but I didn't want to let go." Joe felt the terror surging again and he forced it back down.

He looked at Vanessa, haunted by the intensity of his reaction. "I don't remember anything like that happening when I was little. Nothing like that ever happened that I can recall. I mean I had a perfect childhood. Nothing bad ever happened to me."

'At least nothing that you can remember.' Vanessa thought, worried. Joe's reaction was much too intense for all this to be something his imagination had dreamed up.

Joe forced a weak smile to his face. "I feel better now. Here with you." He saw she didn't believe him one bit. "Really," he lied. "I'm ok now."

Vanessa looked at him dubiously. She knew he was lying but she wasn't going to push it. He was much calmer than when they had first run from the courtroom. She would just keep a close eye on him. If he started getting upset again, to a point she couldn't handle, she would call his parents.

"If you say so. But I think you should call your parents and let them know everything is ok. I'm sure they’re worried after the way you bolted."

"I will. As soon as get out of this suit." He kissed her and walked down the hall to the bedroom. Slowly following him, she prayed the rest of the evening would be uneventful.

After having Chinese take out delivered, Joe and Vanessa curled up on the couch. Joe had suggested they watch a couple of their favorite videos and turn in early. Joe hated to admit it, but his wildly changing emotions earlier in the evening had left him wiped out. As they headed off to bed, Joe hoped he was so exhausted he might just sleep through the night without being awakened by one of the terrifying nightmares that had haunted his dreams every night.