Fenton Hardy stood in the doorway of his office, smiling, as he silently observed his two sons.  Twenty-five year old Frank was seated in a leather armchair next to the couch, reading the morning paper and occasionally taking a sip of coffee.

Blonde-haired Joe, a year younger, was stretched out on the couch alternately complaining about being summoned to the office so early and bemoaning the outcome of the hockey game they’d attended the previous evening.

“I still can’t believe it! One minute left – one lousy minute – and they literally give the game away!” he complained dramatically.

“Picking up right where you left off last night, I see,” Frank commented in amusement.

“A penalty shot! We have the best goalie in the league and that idiot forward trips their worst player on a breakaway!” Joe continued, waving his arms theatrically. “He’s their enforcer. He’s paid to fight! What are the chances he’d even score?!”

“He scored on the penalty shot,” Frank reminded him helpfully as he turned another page.

Joe shot his brother a withering look, which Frank ignored, before continuing his tirade. “Then they went and took that stupid penalty in overtime…they shoulda just handed the game over on a silver platter and saved us all from having to witness that fiasco,” he snorted in disgust.

As Fenton listened to Joe ramble on, with Frank throwing in the odd comment just to annoy his brother even more, his smile faltered.  It had been well over a year since the worst crisis in Joe’s life was whether or not one of his beloved sports teams lost a big game.  During that bleak time, Fenton watched Joe teeter on the edge of depression, sometimes falling into the blackness.  A few times it was so bad Fenton had feared Joe wouldn’t be able to find his way out. But he had and now the son Fenton had longed to see again was swiftly re-emerging, with Joe appearing happier than he’d ever been.

‘What if my taking this case pushes him backwards?’ Fenton worried, beginning to second-guess himself. ‘What if it’s asking too much of him to treat it like just another missing persons case?  What if he’s not strong enough to do that yet?’  Feeling the inner voice he thought he’d banished the previous evening trying to return, he remembered Laura’s words of advice. ‘What if she’s right and I’m just not giving him enough credit?  What if I’m the one who’s not strong enough…’

“What the heck did Dad need us here so early for anyway?” Joe’s voice broke into Fenton’s thoughts.

“He didn’t say,” Frank responded, even though Joe knew that as well as he did.

“It’s only seven o’clock in the morning,” Joe whined.

“Seven-fifteen,” Frank corrected him, ignoring the glare Joe threw at him.

“Whatever!” Joe rolled his eyes.  “I’m usually just rolling over to go back to sleep!”

“Why don’t you,” Frank finally suggested in exasperation.  “Maybe then I could finish reading the paper in peace.”

Joe pushed himself up apparently preparing to grace his brother with a stinging comeback when he saw Fenton standing in the doorway.  “Hey, Dad!” he smiled.

“Good morning, Joe,” Fenton greeted him, finally stepping into the office. “Frank,” he nodded at his older son.

“Morning, Dad,” Frank responded, folding up the paper as his father took a seat on the couch next to Joe.

“So what’s up?” Joe asked stretching and attempting to stifle a yawn.  “Why’d you need us here at the crack of dawn?”

“Seven-fifteen is hardly the crack of dawn,” Fenton chuckled.

“It is in my world.” Joe flopped back against the soft leather cushions and closed his eyes.

“I accepted a new case last night,” Fenton began hesitantly.  “I’ll be working it alone but I wanted to fill you both in before I left for the airport.”

“Why didn’t you just call us like you usually do?” Joe asked bluntly.

Feeling Frank’s eyes on him, Fenton looked up and met his gaze. ‘He’s already figured out this isn’t just another case,’ Fenton thought, seeing the look on Frank’s face.  Frank could read people very well and right now Fenton felt as if he were being read like an open book.

“This one has…extenuating circumstances,” he continued, never breaking eye contact with Frank. “In fact, I’m not leaving Bayport until and unless I get your approval,” Fenton finished directing the last few words squarely at Joe.

Joe leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and looked at his father seriously. “What’s so special about this case that you need our approval?”

“Because you’re my partners.  And this isn’t just another stranger asking for help. He… I…” Joe was staring at him with such concern, Fenton’s train of thought was completely derailed.  “I’m so sorry, Joe,” he whispered, unaware he’d uttered the words out loud.

“Dad,” Frank reached out and touched Fenton’s arm, throwing a worried glance at his brother. “Who are we talking about?  Who’s the new client?”

Fenton took a deep breath before responding.  “Jeff Cutter.”

While the blank look on Joe’s face indicated the name hadn’t registered yet, Frank apparently recognized it immediately.

“Jeff Cutter?” he repeated in shocked disbelief. “Uncle Jeff asked you for help?!”

“Yes,” Fenton replied simply. As he watched and waited for Joe’s reaction, Frank’s took him completely by surprise.

“And you accepted the case?!” Frank yelled, anger mixing with accusation in his voice.

“Frank, you don’t know the whole story,” he tried to explain, a little unnerved at Frank’s vehement response.

“I don’t need to! After what he did how could you even give him the time of day?!” Frank demanded furiously.

Fenton stared at his normally level-headed son, taken aback.  He had no idea Frank hated Jeff Cutter so much. As he was about to respond, it suddenly dawned on him that maybe he hadn’t hidden his hatred for Jeff as well as he thought all these years.  Had Frank subconsciously picked up on that long ago, allowing it to fester and grow inside him just as it had in his father?

“How could you?!” Frank yelled, the mere mention of Cutter’s name having kicked his protective nature for Joe into high gear.  “Did you stop to think what effect this could have on Joe?  It’s only been a year since he remembered what happened.  Not nearly enough time to take this in stride!”

“I know that!” Fenton responded, trying to control his own anger.  “Joe’s reaction was foremost in my mind! I was up all night worrying about whether this could set him back and how far.  I’m still not sure I made the right decision.”

“Well as far as I’m concerned you didn’t,” Frank replied bitterly.

Knowing Frank’s anger was a knee jerk reaction to a perceived threat to his brother, Fenton found he was now more exasperated than angry.  Taking a moment to decide the best way to diffuse the tense situation he hadn’t anticipated, Fenton jumped slightly when Joe finally spoke.

“You know I’d really appreciate it if you’d both stop talking about me like I’m not here,” Joe’s voice was quiet but firm.

Frank looked at Joe in surprise, a telltale sign he had indeed forgotten his brother was present, at least for a moment, as had Fenton.  Noting Joe’s calm demeanor, Fenton wondered if he’d spent all night worrying about the wrong son.  Neither of his sons’ reactions was what he’d been expecting.

“You’re right.  I’m sorry, Joe,” Fenton apologized immediately.

“Me, too. Sorry, bro,” Frank quickly followed suit.  “But… you do know who Jeff Cutter is… don’t you?” he added hesitantly.

It now dawned on Fenton that Joe had never once mentioned Jeff’s name while growing up.  He’d never asked about his aunt or cousins either.  It was as if once the Cutter family left Bayport, they ceased to exist - at least for Joe.

‘A coping mechanism?’ Fenton thought frowning. ‘His subconscious wouldn’t allow him to think about them knowing he wasn’t ready to remember?  But he hasn’t mentioned them at all since he remembered either…’ 

“Of course I do,” Joe replied quietly, only now appearing slightly shaken. “He and Aunt Carole were watching me when Tilghman’s men grabbed me.”

“No, Joe, they weren’t watching you!  That’s the whole point!  If they had been, you wouldn’t have been kidnapped and Van…” Frank stopped abruptly, biting off what he had been about to say.  “… and what happened last year never would have happened,” he finished, much more subdued and obviously having rethought his choice of words.  “That alone is reason enough for me to vote against taking this case at all.”

“Joe?” Fenton said simply, inviting him to share his thoughts.

Joe hesitated and Fenton thought he saw a flicker of guilt in Joe’s eyes.  “Just say what’s on your mind, son,” he said encouragingly.

“Why did you say yes?” Joe asked softly.  “I mean I know I’m more important to you than they are.  There must have been a good reason why you felt like you couldn’t say no…right?”

The hint of betrayal in Joe’s voice was almost enough to bring Fenton to tears. Instead he offered a smile, shaky as it was.  Reaching out, he squeezed Joe’s shoulder hard.  “I’m glad you realize that you are the most important thing to me.  You and your brother,” he said glancing briefly at Frank, “always come first.  But the reason I agreed to accept this case is that it’s Jeff’s son who is missing.  And no one knows the pain of a missing child better than I do,” he finished, hoping his boys would understand.

“I did tell him my acceptance was contingent on you, Joe.  If this is too hard for you, I will refer him to someone else.  Period.  He didn’t seem happy about that but he understood it’s not his choice to make.”  Fenton sat back, watching his sons nervously, wishing he were psychic.

“I don’t have to be actively involved in the investigation?” Joe asked hopefully.

“Me either?” Frank added quickly, feeling a need to support his brother and feeling no obligation to assist someone he truly disliked.  Fenton was more than capable of finding one missing person on his own.

“I’ll handle everything myself.  Neither of you has to give it a second thought,” Fenton quickly assured them, breathing a sigh of relief. “If I need anything checked out, I’ll call Sam.”

“Sounds okay to me then,” Joe shrugged. “Frank?”

“Whatever you think is fine with me,” Frank assured his younger brother.

"You'll still check in every day?" Joe asked his father, although it sounded more like an order than a request.

"Ten a.m. and ten p.m. every day," Fenton agreed.

It was a long standing policy that when anyone was working a case alone that didn't require absolute secrecy, they check in twice a day at predetermined times. On the rare occasion that something went wrong, the lack of contact alerted everyone else to the problem and allowed them to mount a search as quickly as possible.

"Okay."  Joe gave his father a quick hug and stood up.  "Have a safe trip... and hurry home."

"I will," Fenton patted him on the back affectionately, smiling as he watched Joe leave to return to his own office. 

When Frank stood to follow him, Fenton touched his arm. "Frank, I need to talk to you for a minute."

Frank looked at him questioningly and sat back down.

"I know I don't need to ask you to keep an eye on Joe and let me know if he seems to be... backsliding," Fenton smiled briefly.  "But I need you to keep a close eye on your mother, too."

"She's not taking this too well?" Frank guessed, his dark brown eyes clouding with worry.

"I think it brought back too many memories she would have preferred stay buried.  When Jeff and Carole moved to Arizona, she packed up every shred of evidence that they even existed and stored it in the attic.  She was so afraid Joe would see something that would trigger the memories of Tilghman before he was ready to deal with them.

“I don’t know if you remember or not, but your mother was extremely close to Carole.  She looked up to her sister almost the way Joe looks up to you, although their bond wasn’t nearly so... intense,” he stopped and grinned as Frank flushed slightly. “Carole and Jeff were the reason we moved to Bayport.  They convinced us this was the perfect place to raise a family - and they were right.

“When Joe was kidnapped while in Carole’s care, your mother was absolutely devastated. The older sister she worshipped had let her down in the worst possible way.” Fenton stopped and stared down at his clasped hands.  “She cut Carole out of her life completely.  It was as if Carole just ceased to exist.  Every few years, Carole would try and re-establish contact but your mother wouldn’t even acknowledge it.  Eventually she just stopped trying.”  He finally looked up and gazed at Frank sadly.  “I woke up about three o’clock this morning and found her in the attic going through the boxes... and crying.”

“Oh, man,” Frank muttered, running a hand through his dark hair.

“When I asked what she was doing, she said she was going through the boxes one last time before she got rid of them for good.”

Frank’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“She said the sister she had looked up to died the day Joe disappeared and was never coming back.”

“A symbolic burial,” Frank mused.

“Mm-hmm,” Fenton agreed.  “I asked her if she was sure she wanted to do something so… permanent.  She said if she didn’t do this, it would always feel like she was waiting for some kind of reconciliation and that was never going to happen.”

“She’s sure about that?”

“One thing about your mother, Frank, is her absolute and unwavering love for you and Joe.  When someone hurts one of her children they cross a line; there is no going back.  Doesn’t matter if it was intentional or not. She doesn’t give second chances where the welfare of you and your brother are concerned.”  Fenton smiled inwardly at the look on Frank’s face.  He’d never really seen that side of his mother in action. “But sometimes things that make perfect sense a three o’clock in the morning look a lot different in the light of day.  So if you could keep an eye on her as well as Joe…”

Fenton knew he didn’t really have to ask. Even when Frank was a small boy, he had naturally slipped into the ‘man of the house’ role whenever Fenton was away from home.

Frank shook his head in dazed sympathy.  “How did she live like that all these years?  I can’t even imagine cutting Joe out of my life like that.”

“My guess is she pretended her sister was dead. Which she can’t do anymore,” Fenton replied. He still couldn’t believe that fate had handed Carole the same heartbreaking circumstances it had dealt Laura so many years ago.  Fenton knew from personal experience that it didn’t matter what age the victim was; when it was your own child who was missing the agony of not knowing what was happening to them was unbearable regardless of whether they were a small child or a full grown adult.

“No problem, Dad.  I’ll watch out for both of them,” Frank assured his father.

 “Thanks.”

As he and Frank walked out of the office together, Fenton gave thanks for the exceptional closeness his family shared.  He recalled the Cutter family had had a similar kind of bond - and wondered what had occurred over the years to destroy it.