The Watcher

by: HardyGirls

Disclaimer: They're not mine but it's nice to dream…

-00-

And so it went on; the days after Joe had been hurt.

Though worried for the younger of the brothers the close knit family and friends couldn't help but carry a sinking feeling for the pain that was Frank Hardy. Their gentle prodding to eat or to catch some sleep was consistently met with the same intense brown eyes, dead with disbelief, deep with fury, his stoic iron will written all over his tense muscles.

"Frank, you have to eat something…"

"I'm fine, I'm not hungry"

"Rest then, try and sleep, we'll call you if …"

"later, I can sleep later…"

The boys and their father had faced many situations through their passion for sleuthing and more than once they'd been beaten, kidnapped, poisoned, trapped, but this time it was different. This time Joe had born the brunt of the attack and Fenton Hardy couldn't recollect a time he'd been sicker rescuing anyone, let alone his precious boy. Boy, man, it made no difference, he was his flesh and blood, one of a pair of the most precious parts of his life, his greatest achievement, his greatest joy.

More than once he'd regretted their interest in his work and more than once he wished he'd tried harder to discourage them, wished he'd seen this day coming. In his heart though he knew no matter what he'd done they'd have followed in his footsteps; it was in their blood. He'd reconciled himself to that fact trying instead to teach them to be the best and the safest they could be. He knew he'd failed.

There was little Callie could do to help, relegated as always to being the ever watchful friend, offering support where she could and biting her tongue when they lashed out. Not Fenton so much, he had the wisdom of years that let him exercise more self control, but Frank, well, Frank was a different story. No two brothers could ever have been better friends than these two. She'd often thought that even if they'd been born twins the bond couldn't have been any stronger. She oscillated between worrying for their continued wellbeing but in her heart she panicked should the day ever come when they might actually come out on the losing side and one of them would be lost to the other. That day might have actually come and the pain was crushing her.

She wondered if Iola had still been alive if things might have been different now. Joe had become so much more daring, more headstrong since he'd lost her. Deep down she'd often thought that he had a death wish, not actually caring if he put himself in harms way, after all, what did he have to lose? As the months had dragged by Joe had become calmer. He'd never be the same again though, you never were after something like that but with the loving support of his brother and father slowly they'd chipped away at the stony exterior he'd erected and brought him back to the land of the living. He couldn't die today, not today.

Frank sat, head in hands, eyes closed, concentrating on nothing. The anger in him was so strong it was exhausting him and he knew that inevitably it would be his body that'd give up before his will power did. He wasn't going to give in though, he had to go on. The dull ache in his side was nothing compared to the rage in his heart; every beat drumming the anger deeper into his soul.

On the face of it this case had been open and shut, simple, simple, simple. Something they'd done a hundred times before. Perhaps that was the problem, perhaps that's why they'd relaxed their guard.

"God Frank, I'm not exactly a kid anymore, I do know how to do this on my own you know? It's broad daylight, I'll be in a normal busy street, it's not like I'd even be heading off to some secluded place… broad daylight Frank, I can do this."

He could still hear Joe's angst from yesterday. Had it only been yesterday? Just a simple surveillance job. Drive, sit, watch, take the photo's, come back and report to their father. Open. Shut. No contact with the mark had been required. All they wanted was a photographic record of who was coming and going from the club. Simple stuff for the seasoned detectives.

Reluctantly Frank let him go, knowing that Joe was a fine operator on his own, and he really did need to comb through the files he had before him before their father returned. He was counting on them to have the leg work done by then. So they did what they normally wouldn't do. Split up.

It had been hours before Frank sat back stretching from the task before him. Yawning he made his way to the kitchen to make coffee, and that's when he saw the clock. Joe had been gone for almost four hours. With a start he wondered how he'd missed that, usually he was a meticulous time keeper, something his brother was always grumbling about especially when Frank would wake him five minutes before the alarm clock went off in the morning. He checked the front of the house hoping to see their van in the driveway, had he missed him when he'd come home? Trying to reassure himself he quickly made his way to their lab in the basement. Maybe Joe had come in the back way and had already started developing photos. Heart in mouth he called out, only to be met with silence.

Taking the stairs two at a time he made a beeline for radio. He stopped for a moment wondering if he should do this, call him up worrying. If he was close to the mark it could break his cover. He changed his mind calling his father instead. After the usual radio protocols had been followed he got straight to the point.

"Dad, it's Frank, - that surveillance on George Trellan at his club in the main street? Well Joe went to do the job on his own but it's been over four hours and he's not back yet."

"Have you called him yet? No wait, you could blow his cover."

"Mmm… that's what I was thinking too. I'll call Biff and Chet and get them to pick me up; I don't have a good feeling about this."

"Slow down Frank, it's not necessarily a problem; it could just be taking a while. I know you're worried about him being out on his own, so am I but he can handle this I'm sure. If you go checking up on him he'll be furious with you."

"I know Dad but… what if…"

"Look I'm at the city limits now, I'll swing by the area and see what's doing."

They signed off, his father promising to keep him informed. Frank headed for the kitchen to make the coffee he'd been planning trying to shake off his worry. He shook his head.

"C'mon Frank, give the boy a break, he's probably not able to get out of there, that's what the problem is, of course! He's stuck and can't move till they do." He took a deep breath and let out a sigh. If that was the case then why the nagging doubt he couldn't shake?

Taking his coffee back to the office he tried to keep his mind occupied with the files he'd been studying but in the end he gave up and paced the front porch instead. After what seemed like hours he heard the sound of his father's car turning into the driveway. He had the driver's side door open before his father could cut the engine. The question didn't need to be asked. Frank could see the answer on his father's face.

"Get in, I've spotted your van, it's empty, really empty. Joe's been taken."

Frank's head was swimming. "What? What do you mean, how do you…"

"Get in! I'll tell you on the way!"

Frank barely had his door closed before his father had the car rolling again.

"You were right Frank, something has happened, the van it's clean, I mean really clean, you've got nothing left, all your equipment, maps, backpacks the lot, it's been stripped bare."

Frank felt his stomach drop. "He's been kidnapped and they've wiped the whole van clean…"

His father nodded without looking at him. "It's not a simple robbery, I've called the police already, they're combing the area – I left to come and get you."

Frank clenched his teeth. "We'll find him Dad; we'll get him back…" He was almost light headed with the shock, unable to explain why this time felt different. There were numerous times in their case work that one or both of them had been grabbed, tied up or locked up or plain knocked out, but this felt bad, very bad.

"I shouldn't have let him go alone" he murmured.

"It's not your fault Frank, you can't be with him 24/7 in this job; Joe's growing up…"

Frank closed his eyes for a moment, shaking his head.

The surveillance might have been covert to start with but now the van and the surrounding area was filled with police cars and officers. The boy's van was parked on a side street so Joe must have been watching from the rear window. All around the area people bustled about busily, shops were trading and the loading dock of George Trellan's club was wide open with men unloading boxes in plain sight. Nothing was out of place, except the van was indeed bare and it didn't take a rocket scientist to know that they weren't going to find any prints. Anything that wasn't nailed down had been removed, including the radio. It looked barren and lifeless. He and Joe had always loved their wheels but now Frank could hardly bare to look at it. He forced himself too, pushing his thoughts away to allow himself to concentrate on searching for clues. He kept trying to mentally take a step back and look at the interior with an objective mind. Was there something out of the ordinary? Then he found it. Groping under the dashboard almost to the floor his fingers felt for the hidey hole he and Joe used to stash valuables in it. With a rush or adrenalin he realized his hands had found a camera. Carefully he pulled it out and with a wry smile showed his father.

"It's Joe's second camera… he was using two camera's." Frank smiled proudly and turning the camera over in his hands murmured "you did good little brother, you did good…"

"Two cameras? I don't understand." His father cut in reaching for it.

"Joe and I came up with this plan about a year ago. Joe got sick to death of us losing camera's if we got confronted doing stuff like this. So we worked out a plan to take the first film's worth on this one and then stash it and continue on with another camera. If worst case scenario happened and we had our "camera" taken off us or destroyed then it was unlikely that anyone would have expected you had two. Especially once you'd heard the whining Joe could do about having his camera taken off him, anyone would think it was the most valuable possession in the world.

Fenton Hardy turned to the Forensic Officer beside him. "We've got a camera with a full film." It's all he had to say, with a swift nod the officer put his hands out to take the precious evidence and told the pair he'd get it developed immediately.

The search continued throughout the day with more and more searchers being pulled in to help. Frank and Fenton had worked together, not letting either one out of the others sight. They worked in silence, looking keenly at every detail, hoping to find something that would tell them the way he'd been taken, just a direction, something to start the trail.

It was so different, everyone could feel it now. Like an ominous cloud hanging over the area no-one argued that Joe might just simply have gone to get a drink and something to eat, maybe even answered the call of nature; everyone knew that this was deadly serious and the young detective had definitely fallen in harms way.

A shout had Fenton and Frank sprinting back to the van. Chief Collig had arrived at the scene and was marshalling his men. Fenton slowed, trying to hear what was being said over his own heavy breathing. When the Chief saw them he broke off his instructions and hurried over to meet them.

"Frank, Fenton, I'm so sorry about Joe. We've got every available man on it though but I've got to tell you, it's not looking good."

Fenton nodded grimly. "I know, there's something I can't put my finger on yet…"

The Chief nodded sympathetically. "I know what you mean Fenton but we'll get him back, but there's something you have to do for me. You and Frank, you need to go home and leave this to us."

Frank spluttered, his anger once again rising. "Now wait just a minute! You can't honestly expect my father and I to stop searching? – with everyone else out here as well, you want us to go home?"

Chief Collig put his hands up to placate the steamed up youth. "Frank wait, if Joe is being held for a ransom of the like then eventually his kidnappers are going to want to talk to you." He wanted to add "hopefully" to the end of that sentence but stopped himself. The thought of someone killing Joe without demanding anything was too much to think about now. "You need to get home and wait for a call, they could be calling now and you wouldn't know it."

Fenton nodded. "You're right, c'mon Frank, we've got to get back." He stopped as his son started to interject again. "Now Frank, argue in the car but we've got to move."

Chief Collig squeezed Fenton's shoulder. "We'll get him back Fenton, I promise you, we won't stop looking…"

-00-

Entering the ICU had been hard. He thought he was ready for whatever condition Joe was in but when confronted with reality he started to shake. If he'd not been told already he'd hardly have recognized his younger brother; his stomach lurched at the sight. The beating Joe had endured had been thorough and Frank panicked at the thought he would have been conscious for even a minute of it. His face was swollen, his eyes puffed up and closed, livid bruising, some bleeding openly covering every square inch of his fair skin. He was covered by a soft cotton blanket to his waist and the continuing damage to his upper torso and arms was just as disturbing as his face. His fingers were bruised and swollen from being broken or dislocated. Around his sides the bruising was even worse and Frank felt ill at the thought of what his blankets were covering on the rest of his body.

"You can sit with him Frank" Frank turned to see a pretty blond nurse with shoulder length hair behind him. Her eyes were the same color as Joe's he thought to himself. Joe's eyes… would he still have eyes that could see after this… if he lived though it…

"Ummm… how…." Frank's mouth was dry and his jaws ached from clenching his teeth for so long. "How's my brother doing?"

The nurse reached out and gently squeezed his arm. "The doctors are doing all they can Frank, he's holding his own for now, sit with him, it'll do him good to know you're there."

Frank stared for a moment, his sluggish brain trying to absorb her words but the thing he couldn't understand was how she knew his name. Her voice was vaguely familiar but her face didn't give him any hints.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" he asked biting his lip and hoping he didn't offend her if he really should have remembered her.

She smiled gently. "I'm Pamela; I've nursed you on a number of occasions, Joe too. It's heartening to see you so healthy for once." Her gaze held his eyes almost coaxing him to sit and stay a while. There was a depth of understanding in them he rarely saw in anyone. Her eyes were very familiar.

"Me? When? I should remember you then…"

She nodded. "It's ok; when you're in here with us it's rare if you remember too much about those around you in the first day or so. Once you're stable and transferred to a room you don't see the ICU staff again; but I remember you, you're a fighter Frank and Joe too, he'll come through this and so will you." Her hand hadn't left his arm and Frank finally realized just what he must look like to her being less than steady on his own feet.

"Oh… I… well, thank you and I'm sorry I didn't know you, really…"

"It's fine Frank, come sit down" She drew him to a comfortable chair that had been placed beside Joe's bed. The shock of seeing Joe's true condition was starting to sink in now and he was glad for the chance to not be standing.

"Can he hear me?" Frank asked quietly, not wanting to wake Joe into this reality if he didn't have to yet.

"He's heavily sedated, you won't wake him but sometimes just knowing your loved ones are around you it can help when you do start to wake up… it's always helped you when Joe's been here beside you." It was odd for Frank to be hearing this about himself so matter of factly. Pamela wasn't much older than him and far from flirting with him her gentleness was stirring feelings and snatches of thoughts that seemed faded and disjointed.

He turned back to Joe, reached out and carefully brushed his fringe back with his fingers. "Oh Joe, what have they done to you brother?" he murmured quietly. Gingerly he lifted Joe's hand and sandwiched it in his, not wanting to cause any extra pain to the abused fingers. He stroked the back of Joe's hand with his thumb in slow gentle strokes, willing for Joe to feel some kind of calming connection through the drugs. He had to know he wasn't alone; it was all Frank could do for now.

His father came in a couple of minutes later, giving Frank a little smile of encouragement. Fenton had already seen Joe in this state when he found him in the basement of the warehouse he'd been held in. For him, this was an improvement with the blood and dirt cleaned away.

"How are you doing?" he asked his eldest in a whisper.

Frank nodded. "I'm ok; it's Joe you should be thinking about."

The look in Fenton's eyes mocked Frank a little. "I worry for you both, you're no less important than Joe, even if he is in here… Did you see a doctor yet?"

"No, the doctor hasn't been in since I've been here."

"I meant for you Frank, I know you're hurt, I saw what happened, you have to look after yourself too, I'll stay here with Joe."

"There's no need Dad, I'm fine, just a little bruised is all, don't worry about me." He turned back to watch Joe again hoping his father would drop the subject.

Pamela listened to the exchange between father and son but kept her head down, opting to appear busy with a chart. So Frank had hurt himself after all. She made a mental note to speak to the doctor on his next round. It wouldn't do for injuries masked by adrenalin to go untreated and she realized not for the first time that the little pang she felt when she saw his vivid brown eyes again was growing.

Joe's breathing hitched slightly and the fingers in Franks hand twitched. He was waking. All eyes were on him, willing him to come out of it, willing him to know them. The concussion was just one of a number of serious injuries they were treating him for and this would be the first hurdle to get over.

"Joe, buddy, we're here for you" Frank whispered.

Joe moaned and laid still again his breath starting to come in short gasps.

"I'll page the doctor" Pamela told them, moving to the phone on the wall.

"Joe, son, it's all right now, we've got you, you're safe in hospital" Fenton tried to reassure him, tried to make the journey back to wakefulness as painless as he could.

The moans continued intermittently. Joe tried to turn his head towards them but yelped at the sudden movement. His eyes might have been open but they couldn't tell from the swelling.

"Hurtsssssss" He was becoming more agitated, trying to lift his hands to his face but Frank claimed one and his father the other.

"Hey little brother, don't do that now just relax, try and rest, you're safe now."

The moan became a sob and a tear rolled down his battered face. "Ohhhh…. Can't…hurtssss.."

Joe's doctor arrived at that point and ignoring Frank and his father started to examine Joe. "Easy son, it's going to be uncomfortable for a wile but you'll be fine in no time."

Frank wondered if the doctor actually believed those patronizing lines when he said them. Did he have any idea how hard it was to wake up injured?

Joe's moans stopped within seconds of the medication being injected into his IV. The doctor stood quietly holding his wrist and counting his pulse for a long moment. After looking at his watch a final time he carefully placed Joe's hand back down. Frank instantly took it back not wanting Joe to lose his touch.

"Mr. Hardy can I see you outside?" he asked in a hushed tone.

Frank was torn, he dearly wanted to hear the doctor's report but he didn't want Joe to be alone so he chose to stay put and concentrate his efforts in just being there for him.

"Frank it's good that he woke up" Pamela told him when the others had left the room. "He was speaking, and I know, he was in a lot of pain but he spoke and that's a good sign."

Frank listened and nodded, then, with his own fatigue catching up fast he rested his forehead on the edge of the bed and closed his eyes.

"Hey, are you ok?" Pamela was around to him in a second, pulling him upright in the chair. Frank couldn't help but grimace at the sudden movement.

"It's ok, just got thrown around a little, I'll be fine, nothing broken. I just needed to rest for a minute." Pamela eyed him carefully and he could see her eyes flick over him trying to judge for herself. He had to admit sitting down had let him stiffen and the aches and twinges he'd ignored were now starting to make their presence felt.

Unable to wait any longer Callie quietly entered the room. Frank turned and tried to smile a reassuring smile at her. It lightened her heart to see him making such an effort for her, she was sure he didn't feel that way really.

"You're dad wants to see you, I'll sit with him." She whispered, trying not to grimace at her first view of Joe up close. She swallowed thickly and tried to still her racing heart. This was worse than even she'd imagined.

Frank nodded and turning to Joe told him to stay strong, that he'd be back soon. He edged out of the chair and was a little surprised at just how sore he really was. Abused muscles did that and bouncing over the bonnet of a moving car made for some creative bruising at the best of times.

Callie watched him walk to the door, seeing the limp that had developed and glanced at the nurse that remained. Pamela raised her eyebrows as if to say "I know".

Back in the waiting room Fenton sat on his own, his forearms resting on his knees, his head bowed.

"Dad? What's the matter?" Frank asked worriedly reaching out to grasp his father by the shoulder.

Fenton looked up, his eyes weary. "Oh Frank, no, nothing's happened, the doctor just gave me a run down of Joe's injuries and what they're treating him for."

Frank took a deep breath. "Ok, so what'd he say?"

"It's been a professional beating. They've systematically gone over him and inflicted the most they could without actually killing him."

Frank felt his head swim suddenly and he shook his head to try and clear the feeling.

"Sit down son, there's more." When he had his son settled beside him he continued. "He's suffered any number of blows to his head; he's got broken ribs on both sides. His kidneys have been severely bruised…" He swallowed before going on. "The dark bruising up his sides, the doctor says it's been done deliberately, meaning they knew what they were doing to him. This wasn't done in a fit of rage; it's been very very thorough and calculated." He stopped for a moment, staring at the floor.

"Dad, is he… is he gonna be ok?" Frank had to ask, the bile was rising in his throat.

"We don't know; there's internal injuries, they're hoping some of it will stabilize, but if not,… then they have to operate and they don't want to be doing that. There are burns on his stomach and chest… he said it's consistent with a tazer having been used excessively."

Hot tears welled in Frank's eyes. His father's voice was fading as the buzzing in his ears became louder. He became aware only of his own breathing and the very real need to vomit. On shaky legs he stood and mumbled words to that effect before stumbling for the bathroom. He heaved and heaved, next to nothing in his stomach but the need to heave was unrelenting. He slipped to his knees and leaned heavily on them as he let his body go out of control. The aches and pains he'd been carrying with him hurt even more but he couldn't even begin to think of them; what Joe went through was so much worse. It felt wrong to even think about them.

"Frank?" his father gently pushed the door open. "Frank? Are you ok?"

Frank laughed a little. "Oh yeah Dad, I'm fine, this is nothing compared with …" but he couldn't continue. His father nodded and without speaking helped his son to his feet and with cleaning himself up.

"C'mon, I need to get you home to bed." Fenton was ready for the rebuttal and he'd already decided Frank could complain all he liked, but on the way home none the less.

"Yeah, I need to sleep" Frank's acquiescence took him by surprise but he quickly recovered to agree with him, not making it into too big an issue.

They stopped and saw Joe on the way and Callie just nodded. Frank realized his father had already set this up and he was now officially being "handled" something he detested at the best of times. He didn't let on and he didn't complain. Let them think what they wanted, he was tired of arguing and being watched; the only way he could help Joe was to get out of here…

To be continued…