"Morning." He mumbled, noting the cup of water Vanessa held in her right hand and the two pills that rested in her left. "Again? Didn’t I just take some?" Joe asked grimacing at the pills.

"Four hours ago." Vanessa replied, holding her hands out towards Joe. "Time for more. And don’t even think of trying to sweet talk your way out of taking them," Vanessa warned playfully, "or I’ll tell your mother."

Joe narrowed his eyes and wrinkled his nose at her, but accepted the medicine, swallowing both pills at once. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Vanessa took the now empty cup from Joe and placed it on the bedside table. "Feel up to some breakfast?"

"I think so." Joe replied. Although he was a little hungry, vivid memories of the blinding pain from the bouts of nausea he’d had after previous meals left him a little leery of eating anything.

"Maybe some toast and juice?" Vanessa suggested. "If you keep it down, you can try something a little more adventurous for lunch."

"Sounds good." Joe smiled, as Vanessa leaned down and kissed him lightly.

"I’ll be back in a few minutes." She told him heading downstairs to prepare his meager breakfast.

Closing his eyes again, Joe frowned and pushed aside the thin sheet that was covering him. He’d felt a little better after the cool bath the previous evening despite the pain it had caused his ribs, but now felt uncomfortably hot again. Reaching up, Joe swiped at the light sweat that had broken out on his forehead, wincing as his hand brushed against the bandage there.

"Don’t touch it and it won’t hurt." Joe heard his father’s familiar chuckle.

"Hey, Dad." Joe turned towards the doorway where Fenton was standing, leaning against the doorframe.

"Vanessa said you’re up for trying some breakfast this morning." He said as he came in and sat on the bed. Now getting a closer look at Joe, Fenton frowned at the light sheen on his face. Reaching out, he placed a hand on Joe’s face. "You feel hotter this morning."

"A little." Joe acknowledged.

"Do you want to try another bath after breakfast?"

Joe nodded, anticipating the relief it would bring him.

"As soon as Frank is done testifying, we’ll get you to the closest hospital." Fenton promised, preparing for an argument from Joe. "They’ll have you all fixed up in no time."

Fenton realized his assessment had been correct and Joe wasn’t feeling quite as well as he wanted everyone to believe when he agreed with his father’s suggestion. As Laura and Vanessa returned with Joe’s breakfast, Fenton went into the bathroom and began to prepare the bath. Glancing at his watch as he placed it on the counter top, he realized Frank should be just about to begin his day in court.

*****

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I do." Frank replied, lowering his hand and taking a seat. Eyeing the people in the first row of seats behind the defense table, Frank sought out Johann Jarrell and stared at the man, showing just the hint of a smile.

"Please state your full name." James Vance requested.

"Franklin Davis Hardy." Frank replied giving his full attention to the Federal Prosecutor.

"And what is your occupation, Mr. Hardy."

"I’m a private investigator." Frank glanced at the defendants again, feeling that euphoria he always got when a case was coming to a close and justice was about to be served.

And so began the downfall of Johann Jarrell and his terrorist organization. Frank proved to be the ideal witness and quickly impressed the jury with his consummate professionalism and unwavering confidence in his testimony. With each question posed by Vance, Frank was able to paint a clear picture of the at times confusing inner workings of what had been one of the most feared terrorist networks in the world. Frank patiently explained how Jarrell had cultivated his contact within the U.S. Military and been able to sway the man to betray his country. He had systematically identified the elite upper echelon of the terrorist ring and their individual responsibilities within the organization. Having gained Jarrell’s trust during the dangerous undercover mission, Frank was able to provide valuable evidence regarding planned attacks and the intricate web of financing needed to accomplish them.

By the time the judge called a recess for lunch several hours later, Frank was confident the jury had more than enough information to reach a unanimous guilty verdict; the remainder of his testimony would simply be icing on the cake. Certain Jarrell and his cohorts would have their bail revoked and be behind bars by days end, unable to threaten his family – or anyone else – ever again, Frank tried to relax a bit. Behind his calm exterior, however, Frank still had one thought weighing heavily on his mind.

Frank wished he could call Sam or his father and check on Joe, knowing he could breathe easier if he were assured his brother’s condition was improving. Always prudent, Frank chose to err on the side of caution. Jarrell was still a free man for the moment and Frank was certain he wouldn’t give up his search for a member of the Hardy family if it might result in one last chance to pressure Frank into changing his testimony.

Gracefully declining Vance’s offer to join him for lunch, Frank chose to eat alone as his family and their well-being occupied his every thought.

*****

By lunchtime, Joe had taken a cool bath, had another dose of antibiotics and eaten half a sandwich. In his much weakened state, the simple task of moving from the bed to the bathroom and back again, had left Joe exhausted. Almost immediately upon finishing his lunch, Joe fell into a sound sleep.

After a little gentle persuasion, Vanessa agreed to leave Joe’s side for the first time since he had arrived at the safe house and joined the others downstairs. Having intended to go back upstairs within the hour, Vanessa was surprised when a soft beep sounded several hours later. Looking at Joe’s watch, which now adorned her wrist, she saw it was time for his next round of antibiotics. Pressing the button to turn off the alarm, she excused herself and made her way upstairs. Pushing open the bedroom door, Vanessa stepped into the room.

"Joe? Time to wake up…" Vanessa stopped midsentence. Frozen in shock, she stared at her fiancée, horrified.

Back down in the viewing room, Callie, Laura, Fenton and Sam were playfully arguing about which movie to watch when Vanessa’s panicked shriek brought all conversation to a halt.

"LAURA!" Vanessa’s voice carried down the stairs, clearly distressed.

For one split second, the four of them stared at each other, unnerved at the abject terror in her voice. Laura was the first to move knowing her child was in trouble. Fleeing the room, she practically flew up the stairs, with the others on her heels. Stampeding into the room the foursome came to an immediate halt, unable to believe what they were seeing.

Vanessa was kneeling on the bed next to Joe, shaking him roughly. Turning in their direction, she zeroed in on Laura.

"I can’t wake him up!" She cried out fearfully.

Rushing to Joe’s side, Laura gasped. Joe was obviously burning up with fever, both he and the bedcovers now soaked with sweat. As she caught sight of his arms, her hand flew to her mouth, holding back a scream. The bright red streaks that had begun to diminish that morning had returned with a vengeance, now running the entire length of Joe’s arms. She watched helplessly as Fenton grabbed Joe by the shoulders and shook him.

"Joe! Joe, wake up!"

Callie put a comforting arm around Laura as they watched Fenton repeatedly attempt to rouse Joe, shivering at the panic that had crept into his voice.

Quickly stepping forward, Sam took Fenton’s arm and forcefully pulled him back. "Get him into the car." Sam ordered, taking charge.

Fenton regained some of his composure as he moved to help Sam lift Joe off the bed. With Joe now totally unresponsive and time of the essence, they no longer worried about moving him carefully. Sam grabbed Joe under the arms as Fenton took hold of his legs. They rushed down the stairs and out the door, Callie, Laura and Vanessa ahead of them.

Reaching the SUV first, Callie opened the back and stepped aside as Sam and Fenton placed Joe inside the vehicle. Laura and Vanessa quickly climbed in, taking up positions on either side of Joe.

Having known Fenton Hardy for over twenty years, Sam could easily see through the composed exterior his friend was trying to project. Joe’s unexpected turn for the worse had left his father anguished. Snatching away the keys Fenton held loosely in his hand, Sam handed them to Callie and pointed to the drivers seat.

"Follow me," he ordered her, and then turned to Fenton who was about to protest. "Don’t argue with me. Just get in and let’s go."

Fenton snapped his mouth shut, momentarily stunned at the normally easygoing Sam’s abrupt personality change. Quickly realizing Sam was right, Fenton scrambled into the passenger seat as Callie started the vehicle and smoothly pulled out behind Sam.

Looking over his shoulder, Fenton saw Laura removing a thermometer from Joe’s mouth. "What is it?" He asked, alarmed at the look on her face.

"107.8." Laura replied hoarsely.

Callie gripped the steering wheel, listening to the muted sounds of crying coming from the backseat, not sure if it was Vanessa, Laura or both of them. Chancing a glance to her right, Callie began to get scared. Fenton Hardy, an unflappable pillar of strength, stared out the window, his face a mask of grief.

*****

As the judge disappeared into his chamber, James Vance turned to Frank. Grabbing his hand, Vance pumped it up and down enthusiastically. Bail had been revoked and Jarrell and his men were on their way to jail to await a verdict.

"Congratulations, Frank! You and Joe have effectively destroyed the largest known terrorist ring in the U.S.!"

Skillfully pulling his hand away, Frank modestly acknowledged the praise and made a quick exit from the courtroom. Dodging people in the hall, Frank ran the length of the corridor and barreled through the front doors of the courthouse and down the steps, leaving a large group of stunned reporters in his wake. Pulling out his cell phone, Frank dialed Sam’s number as he ran to his car.

"Radley!" Sam answered tersely.

"Sam? I’m done. How’s Joe?" Frank blurted out, yanking the car door open.

"Not good." Sam replied gravely.

"What?!" Frank’s heart caught in his throat.

Listening to Sam in stunned silence, a part of Frank refused to believe what he was hearing. How could Joe’s condition have taken such a drastic turn for the worse so quickly?

"He’s unresponsive, Frank. His temperature is over 107."

Leaning heavily against the seat, Frank wasn’t even aware of the tear that slid from his eye. He vaguely heard Sam giving him the name of a hospital as he second guessed every decision he’d made concerning his younger brother – relying on a tracking device instead of insisting on accompanying Joe; adamantly maintaining Joe had to be taken to the safe house instead of a hospital; helping to convince Laura oral antibiotics would be enough to begin combating the infection Joe couldn’t fight off on his own.

The buzz of a dial tone jarred Frank back to reality as he realized Sam had hung up. Starting his car, Frank pulled out not bothering to look first and pressed the gas pedal to the floor, oblivious to the angry drivers he left in his wake.