Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters. I do have some OCs though that are mine.

Rating/Setting: Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

Author's Notes: So ends my longest HB story to date. I hope you enjoyed it. And in case you are wondering, I am on Chapter Ten of the sequel but I won't post before I have completed it. Thank you for your wonderful support and reviews! ;-D

Chapter Twenty-Nine

When they arrived home near lunchtime, Laura had fussed around Joe. He had just smiled at her as she rushed around getting things for him and asking if he needed anything. Joe knew she was trying not to hover or to smother, but she was coming close. He had already spoken to his father yesterday about seeing Iola. The two of them had talked briefly on the phone while he was in Detroit. But he had an almost physical need to see her. To make sure that she was okay. That Norwood hadn't lied to him when he said they wouldn't harm her. He didn't think everyone was covering up something, so she had to be okay… right?

Joe looked to his father. "Can we leave now?"

Fenton glanced at the clock. They would be about fifteen minutes early if they left now. Let me call James and Chloe and see if it will be a problem. In just a minute, he was off the phone saying they could leave. Once again the Hardy's headed toward the sedan. In fact, Laura was already in the front seat. As Fenton rounded the car he saw Joe looking at the van.

"Everything okay, Joe?" Fenton asked casually.

"Can we take the van? It'll be easier for me to get in and out of." His eyes remained on the dark colored vehicle.

Frank walked up beside Joe as their mother opened her door and stood beside the car. "Are you sure you want to do that? We'll be taking the road that you were kidnapped on."

"Iola goes up and down that road all the time I'm sure. If she can do it, I can too. It's just a road and this is our van. I'm not going to let memories run my life." Joe said evenly as he turned from the van to look up at his brother. Frank still had him by a few inches, but Joe was catching up to his brother's height. Frank had only grown an inch in the last year while Joe had grown almost three.

Frank looked to his father who nodded his agreement and closed the sedan door.

The family moved quietly over to the van and Laura got in the back and then Joe after her. Fenton sat up front while Frank drove. The family was rather quiet on the drive. Each going through their own memories of the event and reliving them.

As Frank drove past the spot where they had been stopped, Frank said, "They finished the work on this section of the road about two weeks ago." The van drove smoothly over the fresh pavement. No sign of what occurred in the spot remained.

Pulling up in front of the house, the Mortons minus Iola were all on the front porch. They all came down to greet the Hardys.

Joe looked for Iola. Chloe saw his searching gaze and said, "She's in the back by the creek. She said she wanted to talk to you there, but to call her if you couldn't get back there with your crutches."

Aware that all eyes were on him, Joe said, "No, I can do it. Thanks, Mrs. Morton." Swinging his crutches around, he moved toward the back of the house. He was aware that Frank was following him and he stopped and looked back. "I can do this, Frank." He knew that Frank only wanted to help, but even if he didn't have the crutches, he could get to the creek and Iola. After all, he had been on the run with this leg and one crutch in a forest. Going thirty yards or so over fairly even terrain with two crutches would be a breeze.

Frank stopped. His brother was right. He could do this. It was Frank that had the problem. He had failed to protect Joe before; he didn't want to fail again. But this wasn't something that Joe needed protection from. "Okay. I'm heading in to see Chet."

Knowing his brother would do as he said, Joe began moving in the direction of the creek again. "Tell him we'll be in in a little while."

"Sure," Frank called after him.

Joe headed over the small rise and skirted along the edge of the trees. He knew where he'd find Iola. And there she was, sitting high up on the bank where they usually entered the creek for swimming. The rhythmic sounds of his crutches as he moved toward her made a distinctive sound that drew her attention. "I guess there's no sneaking up on you with these things." He stopped about ten feet away from her.

Iola's eyes watched Joe intently. He sounded like Joe and he looked like Joe. Standing slowly, she brushed off the grass and twigs that had stuck to her shorts and legs. Joe was wearing a pair of tan cargo shorts and brown leather sandals. His shirt was a light green tee with their high school logo on it. There were no cuts or bandages that she could see. His left wrist looked bruised, but other than that he looked fine… but the crutches were there for a reason.

Joe could see her figuring things out. He had expected her to rush him like his mom, but she was being much more methodical. Perhaps she was having just as much trouble believing this was real as he was.

"Why do you have crutches?" When she had been told that Joe was found, Mr. Hardy had just indicated there were some minor injuries.

Extending his right leg toward her, he answered, "I have a bone bruise on my right tibia. It can… it can hurt quite a bit." Joe couldn't help his stammer.

Iola's voice was soft, "How did you get it?" She stepped closer to him.

"I was running and I stepped in… I stepped in a trap." The words came out in a rush after a slight pause and his breathing quickened.

Iola rushed forward to hold him tight, laying her cheek against his chest. This was Joe. This was her Joe. He wasn't the same guy she went to the movies that night with. She had changed and he had too. Pretending everything was okay wouldn't take them back to where they were. They would move on from where they were now. He needed to know that she didn't expect him to be the same… because she wasn't either.

An hour later, Joe lay with his head in Iola's lap as she sat leaning against the tree. A cool breeze was blowing and she was moving strands of hair off of his forehead. They both found the situation immensely satisfying. Iola had told him what had happened to her since they parted and he had done the same. Neither spared details about the pain they had felt physically and emotionally.

Joe opened his eyes and looked up into her beautiful green ones. He lifted a hand and ran a finger from the corner of her eye down her jaw to her chin and then dropped his hand back to the ground. "I would have killed him if there was a bullet."

"It wouldn't change how I feel about you."

"I would have killed a man," Joe repeated as if she hadn't heard him correctly.

Her eyes still on his, she said softly, "In a way, I wish you had." Then she saw it. It wasn't that he needed someone to say that it was okay that he could have shot a man. Joe was looking for someone to say that it was okay that he wanted to kill him.

Joe closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. She understood. He had been feeling guilty that he had wanted Laird to die. He felt her hands on his face again as she traced his face from the corner of his eye to his chin, just like he had. Opening his eyes, he looked into hers.

"Tell Frank. He won't judge you." Iola's words held conviction that Joe didn't feel. The brothers had always been taught, and believed, that life was sacred. It wasn't something you took lightly.

"How do you know?" he whispered.

Iola looked up and at the creek. "One day after Frank and I started back to school, he came out to this very spot and found me sitting here. We talked and I told him that if I could have, I would have killed those people who kidnapped us. What they did to us… what they did to so many others… what they would continue to do with no remorse…. I felt that I could have killed them and lived quite well with the memory."

"But you didn't have a gun in your hand like I did," Joe rationalized.

Her head tilted to the side as she looked back down at him and a long strand of brown hair swung across her face. Joe reached up and tucked it back behind her ear.

"Maybe not, but in my mind I have killed them over a hundred times." Iola looked back away. "I'm not saying I'm proud of these things. I'm not boasting about it. But it's how I felt and I won't be ashamed of that. I didn't do anything that was shameful. They did. You, Joe Hardy, are the victim not them."

"Do you still think about doing it?" Joe asked.

Iola's head tilted to the side as she thought about it. "Since I received the phone call that you were alive… no, not really. I want to move past what happened. I won't… we won't forget it, but I'm seeing a therapist and I'm not going to dwell on it. I won't give them that power over me." She looked down into his eyes. "I've moved past revenge and I'm working on forgiveness now."

As he lay there looking up at her pixie face, Joe was amazed at her strength. He wasn't at a place yet where he could think about forgiveness. He prayed that he too would get there. Eyes locked on hers, he knew how much they had changed. He pushed himself up and moved to sit beside her but facing her. Reaching out, he put a hand behind her neck and pulled her gently to him. His lips met hers in a gentle soft kiss. As he pulled away, he said, "Thank you." It was a thank you for understanding him; a thank you for listening. It was a thank you for so many things, all of which didn't need to be spoken to be heard.

She smiled into his eyes that were only inches away. "Do you remember back when we were in fifth grade and I kissed you back at the picnic table?" She smiled more when a red flush crept into his cheeks.

"How could I forget that?" he answered sheepishly. "It was the first time you kissed me."

"Do you remember what I told you?"

"I don't know," Joe's brow wrinkled. "Was it something about the bully?"

"In a way. I told you, 'Thank you for protecting me.'" She looked seriously into his eyes. "I'm saying it again now. Thank you, Joe." Placing a quick kiss on his lips, she leaned back and said, "Are you ready to go back to the house?"

Knowing that everyone, and especially Frank, would want to know how they were doing, he sighed. It would be nice to stay out here longer. "Yeah, I guess so." Iola helped him to his feet and handed him his crutches. As they moved back toward the house, Joe asked, "Do you think we could sit and talk under the tree some more this summer?"

"I'd love to, Joe." Iola smiled broadly as she walked beside him. They were going to be fine, she decided. Together, they'd be fine.

.*********.

That night after supper when the Hardys had returned home, Joe went out and sat in a chair on the deck watching the sun set through the trees. He heard the door open and saw that his brother had come out to join him. "Anyone else coming?" Joe asked in a somewhat joking manner. When he and Iola had returned to the house, it was obvious that his mother had been anxious. She had managed to curb her urge to latch on to him, but Joe had felt it.

Frank let out a chuckle. "Dad managed to convince Mom that you're safe on the deck. Now if you venture into the front yard, you'll need to have two escorts, preferably armed."

Joe laughed as Frank pulled out a chair and sat down. They sat in silence for a minute. Joe knew that Frank wouldn't pry. He thought back to what Iola had told him. She had told him to tell Frank. Maybe she was right. Drawing a deep breath, Joe said, "Frank, can I tell you something?"

"Anything, Joe."

And so Joe explained his feelings of guilt and just like Iola promised, Frank didn't judge. He listened and affirmed Joe.

"Nothing will change how I feel about you, Joe. I still feel the same about you. Even if you had killed him just because you wanted to end the pain, I would still love you." Frank's voice grew raspy with emotion. "You're my brother and that doesn't change."

Joe felt the pressure of guilt that had been weighing him down lift off of him. He drew a deep free breath and relaxed his tense muscles. Perhaps the guilty feelings would come back. If they did, he'd still have Iola, his parents, and Frank. And Joe decided he could live with that.