With a slightly shaking hand, Joe checked for a pulse, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt the rhythmic beat, faint and shallow as it was. Positioning Frank’s head properly, Joe leaned down, forcing a breath of air into his brother’s mouth. When his efforts were met with resistance and Frank’s lungs did not fill with air, Joe sat back on his heels, repositioning Frank’s head and tried again. Once again, Frank’s body defied Joe’s best efforts to supply him with much needed oxygen. Absolutely certain he was doing everything correctly, Joe felt the first signs of panic stir deep inside him.

"Dad, something’s wrong!" Joe cried out. "It’s not working! The air isn’t getting through!"

Gently pushing Joe aside, Fenton knelt down next to Frank, hoping he would have better luck. Looking down at his oldest son’s face, his heart tightened and he knew his efforts would also prove futile. The small burns next to Frank’s mouth, trailing down one side of his neck, told Fenton the only ones who could help Frank now were the EMT’s and even that might be iffy.

Standing up, Fenton’s eyes narrowed as his gaze slowly swept across the room, coming to rest on the plastic bottle Nash had carelessly discarded on the floor. Swooping down on it, Fenton grabbed the now empty bottle, paling when he looked at the label.

"Oh, dear God." He whispered hoarsely.

"What?!" Joe asked, alarmed at his father’s reaction.

In answer, Fenton silently held up the bottle allowing Joe to see the label, the skull and crossbones frighteningly clear. Taking a few steps closer, Joe let out a strangled cry when he saw the word "caustic".

Suddenly the room was bustling with activity as EMT’s and police officers descended, pushing Joe aside as they surrounded Frank. Joe heard his father’s voice, clear and steady, explaining to the medical personnel about the bottle he’d found and pointing out the burns around Frank’s mouth.

As the reality of what had happened to Frank sunk in, Joe felt a stinging sensation, his eyes filling with tears. It couldn’t end like this! After all the misunderstandings, accusations and hurt feelings, he and Frank were finally brothers again. That had given Joe hope that eventually Frank and Callie might be able to come to terms with everything and make a new start themselves. Frank couldn’t die! He wouldn’t! Joe refused to believe it. After all the horror, they deserved a happy ending.

Roughly swiping a hand across his eyes, Joe returned to his father’s side, both of them watching as the EMT’s attempted to open an airway in Frank’s burned and swollen throat. Trying, and failing, again and again, their frustration became evident. Sitting back, the technicians held a quiet conference, trying to decide what to do next.

‘Don’t stop!’ Joe silently urged. ‘Try again!’

Reaching into their well-stocked kit, one of the technicians pulled out something Joe couldn’t see. Leaning forward, they hovered over Frank once more. Joe watched as one of them picked up the long, plastic tube again, trying once more to ease it down Frank’s throat.

‘Please, please, please, please…’ Joe chanted silently, eyes closed, hands balled into fists at his side. He heard one of the EMT’s mutter a curse. ‘PLEASE! Don’t let him die!’

"Yes!" A voice cried out triumphantly.

Joe’s eyes flew open and he saw the technician, squeezing the bag attached to the tube now safely ensconced in Frank’s throat, in a steady rhythm.

‘Thank you!’ Joe thought raising his eyes upwards.

"Do you know when he stopped breathing? How long it was?" One of the EMT’s turned to look at Fenton and Joe over his shoulder.

"We don’t know." Fenton replied. "He’d already stopped breathing by the time we got here."

The two technicians exchanged a look, then returned to their task of getting Frank stabilized enough to transport. Joe’s heart fluttered as it dawned on him why they were asking, as the panic started to rise again.

‘Four to six minutes.’ Joe thought back to what he’d learned in CPR and First Aid classes. ‘Once breathing has stopped, permanent brain damage or death can result in four to six minutes.’

As Frank was secured to the wheeled gurney and swiftly moved towards the door, Joe couldn’t help but wonder…did they get there in time?

Fenton put down the empty Styrofoam cup and watched, both enthralled and somewhat annoyed at Joe’s continuous ritual. Standing in the doorway of the waiting room, Joe glanced at his watch impatiently. He then turned and stalked across the room stopping at the window on the opposite wall. Joe stood for a few seconds and scanning the world outside the hospital, before beginning the return trip to the doorway, where he checked his watch once again and repeated the procedure. Over and over again for almost two hours, Joe hadn’t stopped. Cocking his head to one side, Fenton wondered why Joe hadn’t dropped from the sheer exhaustion of nonstop movement.

"Joe." Fenton called out, the repetitive habit finally starting to wear on his last nerve. "Come here." He patted the empty seat next to him. Joe threw one last scowl at the closed doors that denied him access to the emergency room – and his brother – and took the few short strides to the chair his father had indicated, throwing himself into angrily.

"Can’t they at least come out and tell us if he’s dead or alive?" Joe growled.

"The fact that they haven’t come out at least let’s us know he’s still alive." Fenton replied calmly, before changing the subject. "We know Davis is behind this now. But we still don’t know the details – how, why, who is he working with…or for."

Joe thought back to his conversation with Officer Lyle. "He’s been telling everyone he inherited a large family fortune. Says he dedicated himself to police work because he feels it’s his duty. And they all bought it!" Joe snorted.

"What else did she say?" Fenton asked, perking up at the information.

"Not much. Just that he lives in a mansion across town from the station. That’s when you found the CAKE stamp." Joe shook his head. "He’s got them all snowed. You should have heard her voice when she talked about Davis. Like he was some kind of god or something!"

Fenton scowled. "That means they won’t take kindly to our asking questions about him. And we don’t know who else on the force is involved with him. Still some of the things Davis claims should be easy enough to check out." Fenton continued pulling out his cell phone.

"Who’re you calling?" Joe asked, knowing Fenton was waiting for some news from the doctors before calling Laura.

"Sam." He replied, referring to his assistant Sam Radley. Joe sat and listened as his father relayed all the information they had on Pete Davis and asked Sam to dig up anything else he could find. After promising to update Sam on Frank’s condition, Fenton hung up. Before he could resume their conversation, a doctor appeared in the doorway.

"Hardy?" He asked simply, scanning the room of people.

"Right here." Joe jumped up. "How’s Frank?" He asked anxiously as the doctor approached, attempting to contain himself when he felt his father’s hand on his shoulder.

"Frank’s brother?" The doctor guessed, smiling at Joe.

"Yes. Joe Hardy." Joe replied offering his hand.

"Dr. Grant Esching." He introduced himself shaking hands with both Joe and Fenton. "And you are Frank’s father?"

"Fenton Hardy." Fenton nodded in reply, returning to his seat, nudging Joe to do the same. "How is he?"

Dr. Esching looked first at Fenton then at Joe. "His condition is very serious. He started having convulsions shortly after arriving. Due to the swelling in his throat he still can’t breathe on his own, so he is on a ventilator. We inserted an NG tube to wash out his stomach and make sure there weren’t any traces of the substance left.

"We performed an endoscopy – placing a camera down his throat – to see the extent of the burns to the throat and stomach. Right now, there’s still quite a bit of swelling so it was hard to determine the severity. We’ll repeat the procedure again in twenty-four hours and hopefully be able to get a better idea of the degree of damage.

"We’ve administered an antidote and started Frank on IV fluids. Right now all we can do is treat the symptoms and monitor him closely."

Joe sat stunned, with his mouth hanging open slightly, not having expected such harsh news. "But he’ll be okay...eventually…right?" Joe asked, his voice shaking.

"Usually the biggest concern with this type of poisoning is respiratory failure. If too much of the liquid was aspirated into the lungs, it results in chemical pneumonia, which can be fatal."

Joe choked back a cry at the word "fatal" and felt his father’s arm around his shoulders, squeezing gently.

"We also don’t know how long Frank was without oxygen before you found him. Depending on how long the brain is deprived of oxygen, it can result in varying degrees of brain damage."

"You…you think he might have brain damage?" Fenton asked horrified.

"No." Joe whispered, refusing to even consider the possibility of his brilliant brother no longer being capable of understanding the simplest things.

"We don’t know, Mr. Hardy." Dr. Esching replied gently. "We may not know until he regains consciousness."

"So he will wake up." Joe pounced on the doctor’s words.

"We hope he will. I’m not trying to be vague, but it’s still much too early to tell you anything other than the injuries we’ve found and how we are treating them. I just want you to be prepared. I don’t mean to sound harsh, but at this moment I can’t even tell you whether Frank is going to survive, let alone whether he will have diminished mental capacity or permanent physical impairment."

As hard as he tried, Joe couldn’t stop a few tears from sliding down his cheeks. Leaning forward, he buried his face in his hands, unable to take anymore bad news about his brother.

"The next forty-eight hours are the most critical." Dr. Esching returned his attention to Fenton, who was staggered by the extent of Frank’s injuries. "At that time we can begin looking at the possibility of any long term effects or permanent damage." The doctor stood up, indicating he’d given them all the information he could for the time being.

"We’ll be moving him to the ICU shortly. Immediate family can visit him there. Once he’s improved enough to be moved to a private room, his friends can come and see him."

"Thank you, doctor." Fenton replied, still trying to grasp the reality of it all – there was a distinct possibility he could lose his first-born son.

Fenton allowed himself a few moments of self-pity, before regaining a hold on his emotions. Looking down, he rubbed Joe’s back gently.

"Joe? Are you all right?" He asked gently, immediately thinking how ridiculous the question was.