Jogging swiftly down the street, his eyes shaded by a hand, Joe was not thinking beyond getting away – beyond putting distance between himself and his family. His foot hurt with each step – the doctor had managed to cauterize the brand mark off of it but he'd always have that white spot there, and he would always know what initially caused it – but Joe ignored the pain. Despite being left alone to think, the walls of his new room closed in on him, making him feel as trapped as he felt when Andrew held him. Left on his own, he thought too much about what happened. Around others, he felt as though eyes would keep staring at him. He just wanted to get as far away as he could get.

Running until he gasped for air, Joe finally stopped and bent over, gasping, trying to catch his breath. He stayed for a moment and wiped damnable tears from his eyes until his breathing was under control. Joe opened his eyes slightly and, keeping a hand over them to shield the sun, he looked around a little. After spending two weeks in near darkness, the sunlight bothered him quite a bit. It was something else Andrew took from Joe – Joe's ability to enjoy the sunshine.

Looking around, though, Joe realized he knew where he was. Just a few more blocks…

Joe set off again, this time walking, or rather, limping. Uncertain what he'd see when he got there, Joe set himself, grabbing hold of his emotions and clamping down hard on them. Joe wanted, more than anything, control. He needed to find the control he lost to Andrew and to himself as well. He felt like raging against the world but what good would that do besides hurt him even more?

Joe wiped tears angrily.

The houses were familiar now, homes he’d seen most of his life. He knew who lived in many of them – some were the homes of schoolmates from high school. The elm trees that lined the streets blocked part of the sunlight and Joe relaxed, calming a little, surrounded by the familiar.

He was home.

It all fled when his destination came into view, and he stared, open-mouthed at the…the…destruction.

Devastation.

Joe stood in front of the lot where his house once stood. There was nothing left of the house – in its place rested a large bulldozer and a dump truck. He could make out what was left of the fence that went around the pool in the backyard.

Defying the warning signs he saw posted around the lot, Joe crept forward, moving past the dump truck until he could see the pool more clearly. It was covered by large sections of plywood and a large tarpaulin, obviously to keep debris out of the pool itself.

I was coming to set up a pool party, Joe thought grimly as he stared through the still-standing fence, more tears streaming down his face. I was coming here to set out drinks and stuff. And that's when it all started. I was…

Oh, God…Vanessa…

Joe sank to the ground in pain as he remembered his girlfriend. Injured – badly – by Andrew, comatose in the hospital, he had left her because Andrea forced him to, and he had come here and hadn't been back to see her since.

What am I going to tell her? How can I look her in the eye and tell her what Andrew did to me? There's no way…it's…I can't do it….

Defeated, Joe picked up a large rock from the ground and threw it, hard, smashing it into the fence hard enough to break a hole in it and, with all of the pent up emotion, frustration and pain that he felt, he let out an ear-shattering roar!

**** **** ****

"He just left?" Mandy stared open-mouthed at her parents as she dropped her shopping bags onto the porch. "He just left? He didn't say anything and he just left?"

"He just left." Fenton reached out a hand to Mandy and took her by the arm, steadying her. Frank appeared in the doorway, balancing on his good leg, his good arm holding onto a crutch. The dark haired young man peered blankly ahead of him but appeared to listen intently.

"But why?" Mandy turned to look down the street. "How? I had the only car we have with us right now. How…where did he go? Why?"

"He obviously went on foot," Fenton said. "I daresay he remembers how to walk, despite that injury on the bottom of his foot. And as for why…"

Fenton sat down on one of the porch steps and drew Mandy and Frank down beside him. He heard Laura talking softly to Samantha; they were taking the bags of linens inside the house, leaving Fenton the task of talking to his children. Fenton prayed for the right words to say to help his daughter understand – to help himself understand as well.

"He's hurting, that's why he left," Frank said softly. "And I bet the walls are all closing in on him."

"Walls closing in? Why?" Mandy demanded and Fenton flinched slightly at the anger in her voice. "We're here to help him and he's running off, not giving us…"

Mandy paused, swallowing and looking away, flushing with shame. Fenton patted her arm and hugged her to him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to yell. I'm just losing it. I want to help him so much and…he won't let me. He won't let anyone!"

"Mandy," Fenton began softly. "Joe's…not going to take what happened like you want. He was raped – and I know he's in pain and doubting himself. He blames himself because he couldn't stop it. He's ashamed and angry and he feels he has no control."

"But why? Andrew drugged him and he was tied up. What was he supposed to do?" Mandy fidgeted with a lock of hair, agitated and upset.

"We know it's not his fault," Fenton said softly. "You and I, Frank, your mom, everyone involved, know that what happened to Joe was not his fault. It was all Andrew, all the way. As far as we can see there was nothing Joe could have done to stop this – but Joe doesn't see it that way. It's a self-concept thing, honey. Joe thinks of himself as strong, capable, dependable, the kind of guy who can fight his way out of any situation, and Andrew took all of that away from him. Despite the drugs, despite being tied up, despite being locked up in a room he had no way to escape from, Joe is going to feel that there was something more he could do – anything. For instance, that period of time when he was free and Andrew was almost his prisoner, he probably feels he should have done more to secure Andrew.

"In time he'll see it wasn't his fault but right now, when it's so fresh, he won't. And we're going to have to accept that and be patient with him."

"And we have to help him when he asks for it," Frank inserted with a bit of a sigh. "Whether we want to wait for him to ask for that help or not, we have to allow him the ability to take control – and decide for himself when he wants help."

Mandy wiped her eyes with the back of one sleeve and wrapped her arms around her dad's chest and buried her head in it. Fenton held her close, rocking her back and forth until she sat back again on her own.

"Can we go after him?" Mandy asked. "I…don't know what to do anymore. I don't know when to help him and when to back off. How do I help him dad? I can't…"

She sat up suddenly, her eyes going wide as she held her stomach.

"We have to go find him now, Dad!" she exclaimed. "Come on. He's…there's something…he's so angry…please Daddy…"

"All right," Fenton agreed. "But you're staying behind Mandy-Nic."

"Like hell!" Mandy exclaimed, springing to her feet. "Come on, Dad, don't make me stay behind."

"Is this about Joe – or is it about you?" Fenton demanded. "Because right now you're making it about you, and if you don't stop, I'm sending you back to live in the dorm. I don't want to take the hard line with you – we do all need to be here to help Joe – but you need to try to get some control over yourself."

Mandy balled her hands into fists but finally she slumped forward, tears falling from her eyes.

"All…all right," she whispered. "I'll stay here. But you have to promise you'll…you'll do whatever you can to help him? Please, Daddy? Frank?"

"Of course." Frank struggled back to his feet and reached out his good arm. Mandy came into it and he hugged her gently. "Go help Mom make the beds. We'll be back as soon as we can."

Fenton got to his feet and accepted the keys to the car from Mandy. He pushed her gently toward the front door and turned back to his oldest son. Fenton helped Frank to the passenger's side of the car.

"We'll just head down the street a bit, first," Fenton said as Frank got into the passenger side of the front seat. "And we'll see what we can find."

Frank nodded his agreement. "Where are we?"

Fenton looked around for a moment then smiled. "Actually, we aren't that far from home. A couple of miles maybe."

Frank looked thoughtful. "Well, I'm not Mandy with her built-in Joe-GPS-unit but if I were a betting man…the old house?"

Fenton nodded, then remembered to say, "Sounds good. The old house is probably where he is."

Fenton steered the car toward Elm Street with the surety of a bloodhound and he saw Joe sitting in the nearly vacant lot, near the fence that went around their swimming pool. He saw a very large hole in that fence but wasn't sure if that was new or caused by the initial explosion.

Fenton got out and helped Frank out and led his son toward where Joe sat.

"Hey, baby brother," Frank said softly as he sat down beside Joe on the [dirt] ground.

Fenton stepped back, letting them have their privacy, and he hoped he had done the right thing by bringing Frank and not Mandy.

Mandy and Joe might be twins but Joe and Frank were brothers, both nearly men, both with past experiences that made them closer than just about any other set of siblings that Fenton knew. Fenton stood back, just close enough to hear but far enough away not to intrude.

"What are you doing here?" Joe asked – not hostilely, but merely inquisitive.

"There's any number of answers I could give to that," Frank said. "But, if I'm going for honesty here, I came to see if you were okay. You left without saying anything and I was worried."

Joe turned away, staring out across the lot at the row of elms that lined the street. Fenton saw him quickly wipe tears off his cheeks.

"The…the walls were closing in on me," Joe murmured. "I had to get away. I…I hate being alone and I hate being around people. I just want it all to go away, Frank, every bit of it."

Frank reached out with a hand, found and touched Joe on the shoulder, squeezing gently.

"It's not just going to go away," Frank said softly. "As much as we all would like for it to, it won't miraculously disappear. It'll all be there, waiting to sneak up on you again. And as for your contradictory feelings about being alone or being around people…I'm not sure what to say."

Joe laughed a little ruefully. "What? But I thought you knew everything!"

Frank gently cuffed him on the shoulder. "Lout," he said affectionately and Fenton heard the smile in his voice. "Do you want to hear what I think about the whole situation?"

Joe paused and neither boy said anything for a few minutes. Finally Joe spoke.

"I guess…I guess I do."

"You were locked up, right?" Frank said. "Underground, more or less. No windows. No contact with other people or the outside world. There's probably a very large part of you that's suffering a bit from claustrophobia. It doesn't help that you went from one unfamiliar and hateful situation to another unfamiliar situation. As nice as that new house is, it isn't home. It isn't where we grew up, where you trashed your room regularly…"

"Hey!!" Joe protested – and laughed.

"It isn't where we gave Mandy hell growing up, pulling on her pigtails, making up boy games she would hate, hiding our green beans in napkins so Aunt Gertrude wouldn't see them….The new house isn't really what you want – and it's not what you NEED, which is familiar. Your only company for those 11 days was Andrew – and he hurt you terribly. You want to be around us, I think, but there's something that's bugging you…"

"Yeah," Joe whispered. "The eyes…"

Frank turned toward Joe, not, of course, looking at him but looking toward the sound of his voice.

"The eyes watch me. Mom's, Dad's, Mandy's…whenever I'm in the room, they're always looking at me and…and it bugs me. So that makes it feel like…like it's all closing in on me, that I still have no control."

Fenton felt a pang of regret as he realized Joe was right. He did always watch Joe when he came into a room. It was…

…selfish, of course.

Frank paused. "Yeah, well, I can't see you," he smiled and Fenton saw Joe smile back – tentatively.

"No…you can't," Joe said softly.

"Therefore," Frank said. "If you decide you don't want to be alone but don't want to deal with the eyes, then come to my room. You don't HAVE to do this all alone, you know."

Joe chewed on his lower lip for a moment. "You don't think I'm a wuss?" he asked.

Frank smiled. "Of course I think you're a wuss," he declared. "I always have. Me brawn and brains, you wuss."

"Oh, ha, ha and ha!" Joe thwapped his brother on the arm and Frank smiled.

"Joe," Frank said. "You are stronger than anyone I know. If you have to cry, or scream, or break everything in your room or run until you can't breathe, it's not going to change that. You're alive, you're here. It may be hard for a while but you, little brother, are going to survive. Got it?"

Joe smiled tentatively. "Got it."

"Good. So, what else is going on in your head?" Frank leaned back on his good arm, severing his connection with Joe for the moment.

"I remembered why I was here that day." Joe looked away from Frank. "Vanessa being in a coma in the hospital and Andrea kicking me out of the house. We were going to have a barbecue or a pool party, something like that. I came in the door and got grabbed from behind – chloroformed. And that was it…until I woke up in the first dungeon."

Frank didn't say anything and Fenton wondered if Joe would hear him if he did.

"I thought it was Derak at first. He even acted like he was Derak, but he kept his face hidden, like he didn't want me to know, even though I did. It was…when we were in the other house….He locked himself in the room with me, made it act like he was Derak's prisoner too. I was so stupid, I didn't see through it until it was too late."

Frank glanced in Joe's direction again but said nothing.

"What am I going to tell Vanessa?" Joe asked her then. "How do I?"

"You just tell her," Frank said. "Like you told me. Joe, this wasn't your fault. None of it was your fault."

Joe looked away but didn't say anything for a moment.

"I want to go see Vanessa," he said softly. "Can you come with me?"

Frank nodded. "Come on," he said as he started to get to his feet. Joe stood and pulled Frank up to his feet and held on until Frank had his crutch at the ready. They both wiped their clothing off. Joe saw his father standing nearby.

"We want to go to the hospital to see Vanessa," Joe said. "How about a ride?"

Fenton smiled slightly and nodded.

**** **** **** ****

Vanessa was sitting up in bed, turning the pages of a Cosmopolitan magazine when they arrived. Still hooked up to a couple of IVs and a heart monitor, she smiled brightly when Joe appeared in her room and she accepted a hug. Frank excused himself almost immediately, saying he wanted to see if Doctor Carlisle was around and Joe slid into the vacant seat by Vanessa's bed and reached out a hand to gently stroke the back of Vanessa's.

"I'm so happy you're all right," Vanessa broke the silence as she studied her boyfriend. "My mom told me you were kidnapped and I was so worried…"

Joe nodded, swallowing nervously, Vanessa saw the disturbed expression on Joe's face but she maintained a bright smile for him. What happened to him?

"It was…it was my cousin, Andrew," Joe said finally, not looking at Vanessa. He was staring at the floor, as if the linoleum were the most interesting pattern in the world. "He…he fixated on me, I guess. So he grabbed me. Everyone thought it was my Uncle, Derak. He was out of jail so it had to be him. I even thought it was him for…for a long time."

Vanessa reached up the hand Joe was stroking and gently stroked his face, touching him gently.

"Did he hurt you?" she asked softly.

Joe looked away, suddenly more nervous than ever. He nodded slightly and went a little pale.

"Badly?" Vanessa asked softly.

"I don't…I can't…" Joe looked up at Vanessa, fear in his eyes. Vanessa, startled, pulled her hand back but immediately reached for him again.

"It's all right," she soothed gently. "You're safe now, baby. You're safe now."

"It's not…" Joe tried again. "Vanessa, I'm not…you…."

Vanessa shook her head. "I can take whatever you can tell me. I think I've already guessed what he did to you. But I think…I know you need to say it."

"He raped me," Joe whispered and looked away, now studying a nearby wall. "He raped me."

Vanessa really wanted to lose it. Although she’d guessed what happened, she wanted to go throw up what she'd eaten for lunch – but she didn't. She fought to get control of herself again.

"It's not your fault," Vanessa said softly. "None of what happened is your fault. It’s his, all of it. He made his choices and those choices hurt others. Got it?"

Joe shrugged noncommittally and looked away again.

Vanessa sighed. It was obviously too early for Joe to agree with her, so it was time to change the subject.

"I get out in two days," Vanessa said. "Maybe tomorrow if I'm lucky. Of course, that means I get to be in a wheelchair for six to eight weeks and lots of therapy. I was hoping you could help me out with that. Can you?"

Joe nodded. "Of course," he said. "If you really want me to?"

Vanessa slapped him lightly on the arm. "Of course I want you to, lout. I'll count on you to be my personal chauffeur. The pay's lousy but there are some lovely benefits. You interested?"

Joe smiled and Vanessa's heart warmed. She loved that smile.

"Well, as long as the benefits are lovely, I suppose I can take the job," he said. "Just call me Vanessa's Courier and Taxi Service."

**** **** ****

Standing out in the hallway, shamelessly eavesdropping, Frank Hardy grinned and relaxed against the wall.

Maybe things would be all right after all.

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.