Laura squeezed her eyes shut willing herself not to cry as the words tore at her heart. Hearing a painful gasp, her eyes flew open to see Joe attempting to push himself up.

"No, honey, be still." Laura said gently holding Joe down.

"Can’t…breathe…" Joe gasped clutching at his side.

"Do you want to sit up?" Fenton asked, realizing Joe’s injured ribs were making it painful for him to breathe in a prone position.

Joe nodded, then winced at the incessant pounding in his head.

Folding one of the blankets and a few of the towels, Laura made a makeshift pillow against the hard cement wall. Grasping Joe under the arms, Fenton maneuvered him to a semi-reclined position as gently as possible.

"Better?" Fenton asked.

"Yeah…ooh…no…" Joe paled as his vision began to blur and his stomach started to rebel.

‘Oh, great. Please don’t let me barf now.’ He thought knowing how painful an experience that would be with bruised or broken ribs. Covering his mouth with one hand, Joe attempted to get his stomach under control.

Seeing he was going to lose the battle, Laura grabbed a plastic bag from the First Aid kit thrusting it under Joe’s face just in the nick of time, rubbing his back comfortingly. A moment later, Joe raised his head sweating, coughing and breathing heavily trying to decide which hurt worse – his head, his ribs or his pride.

"Sorry, Mom." He croaked as Laura disposed of the offending bag by tossing it through the bars to the other side of the room.

Dipping a towel in the bucket of cool water, Laura smiled as she wiped Joe’s face. "I changed your diapers from the day you were born. Trust me, I’ve seen worse." She told him. Glancing at her husband, who was looking a little green around the gills, she murmured, "Although I’m not sure your father has."

Smiling wanly, Fenton rooted around for a makeshift cup, finding a plastic bottle of water rolling around in the bottom of the box Laura had unpacked. Unscrewing the cap, he held it to Joe’s lips.

"Just a little sip." He warned. "I don’t want a repeat of what just happened."

"Me neither." Joe mumbled taking a very small sip of water. Settling against the pile of towels and the blanket, Joe closed his eyes and tried to take stock of his injuries, trying to find one place on his body that didn’t hurt. Reaching up, he touched the bandage on his forehead.

"Ow…" He moaned pitifully.

"Well, don’t touch it silly." Laura admonished, moving his hand away.

Joe opened his eyes to look at his mother and found there were three of her, letting out another pathetic moan. "There’s three of you, Mom. That’s not good, huh?"

"Under any other circumstances I’d say we hit the jackpot with three of your mother," Fenton responded, winking at his wife, "but combine that with the fact that you just threw up and I’d say you probably have a mild concussion. That’s definitely not a good thing." He agreed.

Having found a somewhat comfortable position given his injuries, Joe closed his eyes once more, happy to let his mother tend to him like she did when he was a small boy.

"You were ambushed?" Fenton questioned. "Having you go alone to pick up the ransom demands was a set up, right?"

Joe nodded and immediately grimaced, as his stomach told him nodding was not a good thing to do. In fact, any movement at all didn’t seem to agree with him at the moment.

"What did they hit you with?" Fenton asked, his tone serious.

"You mean after they slammed my head against the car a few times?" Joe asked sarcastically, not opening his eyes. "A knee, a fist, a baseball bat. I’m not sure after that. Coulda been anything." He said shifting a little. Deciding there was no such thing as a ‘comfortable position’, Joe settled on the one that caused the least amount of pain and smallest amount of rebellion from his stomach. Cracking one eye slightly, he looked at his father. "So what happened to you guys?" He asked closing his eyes again, the darkness being much more preferable to his pounding head than the dim light in the cell.

"It was such a nice night I thought we could eat out on the deck." Joe heard his mother sigh. "When I stepped out the back door to see if there were enough chairs, I heard a click and felt a gun in my back. A man told me to call your father outside."

"When I came out," Fenton said taking up the story, "I got the same treatment. They marched us across the backyard and through the field behind the house. There was a van waiting in the road on the other side of the field. They tied us up and blindfolded us, put us in the back of the van and here we are."

"Shoulda listened to Frank." Joe muttered, opening one eye to attempt a glare at his father. "But don’t you dare tell him I said that."

"Why not?" Fenton couldn’t help but chuckle.

"He said right away your disappearance had something to do with the trial."

"And you didn’t agree?"

Joe shrugged, and then winced as his body screamed in protest at even the slightest movement. "I had already testified. I figured if Jarrell wanted to discredit us or get us to change our testimony, he would have done it before I testified."

"That makes sense, honey. I could see why you’d think that." Laura said as Joe smiled in her general direction.

"Well, now that we know how we all got here, we have to figure a way to get out." Fenton announced.

"Joe is in no condition to move." Laura looked at her husband crossly.

"I’m fine, Mom." Joe lied, knowing his father was right.

"Oh, really?" Laura replied crossing her arms over her chest. "Well open your eyes and tell me how many of me you’re seeing now, young man."

"Doesn’t matter if there’s one of you or ten of you, Mom. We have to get out of here." Joe responded. "Don’t worry, I’ll be fine." He reassured her, hoping to convince himself as well as his mother.

"You do need to rest, Joe." Fenton agreed with his wife. "We can figure a way out of here tonight, but we won’t make a move until sometime tomorrow." He knew Joe wouldn’t get far in his current condition and hoped a night of rest would at least allow Joe enough strength to make it through the woods with his parents help. Staying put was out of the question and would end in their eventual deaths.

"Sounds good to me." Joe mumbled. "But can we make it quick. I’m really tired."