Title: The Hardy Boys Grow Up
Author: rita (mommacita1@juno.com)

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, I just like to play with 'em.


Chapter 1

      Frank struggled to get out of his dream.  This one, like the previous
one, was terrifying.  But unlike the former, this dream recurred at
regular intervals.  His first dream had been of falling and then having a
crushing weight on his chest, making it impossible to breathe.  That one
had eventually faded, leaving him in a soft nothingness that he couldn't
resist.  The new dream was of having his mouth forced and held open while
something thick was poured down his throat, choking him.  He fought his
way to consciousness, even as the choking sensation receded;  the
blankness that replaced it was no longer comforting, since he knew the
dream would return.

      Joe Hardy withdrew the feeding tube from his brother's throat and
tapped his chin to close his mouth.  Gently he wiped away the traces of
liquefied food and lubricated the corners of Frank's mouth where the tube
rubbed.  Frank's eyes were moving rapidly behind his mostly closed lids
and Joe hoped his dreams were pleasant ones.  He sighed and turned away,
carrying the tray of equipment to the kitchen to be cleaned.  The warm
breeze from the open window blew the door partly closed behind him.

      In the kitchen, Joe heated up one of the dinners his mother had left. 
After over a year, he and his father had convinced her to take a
vacation.  Frank needed little care, nothing Joe couldn't handle on his
own, and at the moment there were no cases requiring either Fenton's or
Joe's immediate attention.  The detective agency could run itself for a
week or two.  Joe hadn't counted on the emptiness of the house, however. 
When his parents had been gone before, Frank had been with him for
company.  Now, however ...

      Joe pushed those thoughts aside and started to reach for the phone to
call some friends over.  With his hand on the receiver, he changed his
mind.  What he would do instead was bathe Frank and get him settled for
the night, then try to figure out some of Frank's computer programs. He
knew Frank had programs to figure out passwords in English and foreign
languages and do other code-breaking work.  Programs like those could
help on some of their current cases if Joe could find them and then learn
how to use them.  He started the dishwasher, collected the bathing
equipment, and headed back upstairs.

      Frank pushed through the invisible barrier and tried to figure out
where he was.  He seemed to be tied down on his back on something soft.  
Was he blindfolded?  No.  With an effort he opened his eyes;  they had merely
been glued almost closed.  He automatically reached to rub some of the
grit out of them and discovered that one arm was free.  He now realized
that he was strapped onto a bed, with his left arm held immobile.  And he
wasn't actually flat on his back, but propped up.  He blinked and looked
around.  He was in his own bedroom, but not in his own bed.  That was
pushed into the far corner of his room, blocking the closet.  He rubbed
at his eyes again, clearing them further, and looked down at himself.  He
was strapped into a hospital bed in the center of his room.  His left arm
was tied to the bedrail to prevent jostling the intravenous tube going
into it.  Footsteps in the hallway interrupted his visual exploration and
brought his attention to the doorway.

      Approaching Frank's room, Joe noticed the door had blown partially
shut. He turned to shoulder it open, careful not to tip the tray carrying the
basin of warm water, soap, lubricants, cloths, and towels.  He backed
carefully into the room, watching the tray and his feet.

      "Joe?"  Frank barely recognized his own voice;  it sounded faint and
hoarse, as though it hadn't been used in a long time, and his mouth was
very dry.  His brother looked sad and tired, Frank thought, but before he
could even try to guess at what had happened to them, Joe had dropped the
tray with a crash.  Water flew everywhere and Joe nearly slipped on the
soap as he leaped to Frank's bedside.

      "You're awake!  How do you feel?  When did you wake up?"  Joe
stammered in his excitement.  He hugged his brother ferociously, then suddenly
released him.  "I didn't hurt you did I?  Or rip anything out?"  He
stopped abruptly and just stared at Frank.

      Frank took the opportunity to become aware of his own body.  Several
tubes entered and exited at various places.  But nothing hurt.  "No, you
didn't hurt me.  I guess I feel okay."  He frowned, perplexed;  he wasn't
sure how he felt.  "My mouth's dry," he finally ended, feeling out of
breath.

      "I'll get you some water;  I think that'll be okay."  Joe turned and
stepped carefully to the door.  In the doorway, he turned back and said
urgently, "Don't go back to sleep!"

      Frank shook his head.  "I won't."  Then he blinked again and reached
to rub his eyes.

      "No, don't do that, you could scratch your eyes!"  Joe bent to pick up
a small plastic container from the wreckage on the floor.  "Let me put in
some lubricant instead."  He started back towards Frank then stopped. 
"You wanted water.  And I should call the doctor."  He looked from Frank
to the phone, not knowing what to do first.  What he wanted to do was
just hug his brother and keep him talking and looking at him.

      Frank swallowed and tried to work up some saliva.  "Water first,
please," he requested.  "I won't rub my eyes or go back to sleep," he
promised, although he felt very tired and out of breath.  He couldn't
imagine why Joe was so excited he couldn't think straight.  He must have
been very ill for a long time, but he didn't remember anything about it. 
The last thing he remembered was falling ... or had he dreamed that?  He
frowned, which started Joe towards him again.  Frank waved him away. 
"Water, please," he said firmly this time.

      Joe returned quickly with a small glass of tap water.  He supported
Frank so that he could sit up enough to drink, and held the glass for
him.  When Frank signalled he was done, Joe remained perched on the side
of the bed, holding him.  "That's better," Frank pronounced, his voice
still weak, but less hoarse.  He let Joe lay him down flat, put drops in
his eyes to lubricate them, and then wipe them with a soft cloth.  Then
he tried to sit back up, but the straps kept him from moving freely. 
"Could you untie me?"  he asked.

      Joe frowned.  "I'm not sure I should."  At Frank's startled look, he
shook his head.  "I don't mean because of anything you'd do.  But you've
got a lot a tubes and stuff attached to you.  I know how to turn you over
without disturbing them, and how to clean you and them, and unclog them
and all that, but I don't know whether you should try to move around." 
He thought for a moment.  "I better call the doctor."  Frank nodded.

      Frank could only hear Joe's side of the conversation, but he quickly
deduced that the doctor was concerned about how alert he was and whether
he understood what had happened to him.  Joe assured the doctor that
Frank was alert, speaking clearly, and understood what was said to him,
but he didn't know what Frank knew about his condition.  When Joe hung
up, he turned to Frank and said, "I'm going to unlock the door for the
doctor;  he's coming right over, but I don't want to leave you alone for
any longer than I have to, so he'll let himself in.  Don't ..."

      Frank chuckled.  "I know.  Don't go back to sleep.  I won't."  Joe
grinned in response and hurried out, grabbing up the fallen objects as he
went.  He quickly returned with a mop and began wiping up the floor.

      "Joe?" Joe looked up from his mopping.  "When is it?"

      Joe hesitated.  "It's ... August."

      Frank held his brother's eyes.  "What year, Joe?" he asked, correctly
guessing the cause of Joe's reluctant response.  When Joe answered
softly, he sucked in his breath.  "Oh.  I've ... lost ... almost two
years."

      Joe hurried to his side.  He had wanted to wait for the doctor, in
case Frank didn't take the news well.  He shrugged mentally and watched his
brother's face closely as Frank digested the information.  "Frank?" 

      "I'm okay.  What ... what happened to me?"

      "Do you remember anything?"

      "I think I remember falling."  Frank shuddered as the memory returned.

"We were free climbing in Colorado with Biff and Tony.  I was boosting
myself onto a ledge when it gave way."  He looked at Joe for
confirmation.  Joe nodded.  "Two years ago?  I've been ... like this ever
since?  You've been taking care of me?" 

      "Only for a little over a year.  You were in the hospital until then. 
Your body healed, mostly, but you didn't wake up.  Mom and Dad and I all
took training courses and then we brought you home.  There wasn't
anything the hospital could do for you that we couldn't."

      "What happened to me?"

      "The trees broke your fall, but part of the ledge fell on top of you. 
It crushed your chest.  They weren't sure you'd live.  Then they thought
you must have brain damage.  But you didn't;  you passed all their tests.
 Only you wouldn't wake up."

      "It hurt too much," Frank responded, then looked just as surprised as
Joe at what he had said.  More slowly, he elaborated.  "The nothingness
felt better than the pain.  So I stayed there."  He shook his head to
clear it.  Already the memories that had prompted his reply were fading. 
He looked at Joe.  "Was I in a lot of pain?"

      "The doctors said you would have been if you had been conscious.  Of
course, then they'd have put you on pain killers.  They airlifted you to
Boulder.  We couldn't move you closer to home for almost three months. 
Then all the surgeries were over and the broken bones had started to
knit, so it was safe."

      "If I'm okay, what are all the tubes?"

      "Feeding and cleaning tubes.  We also feed you orally twice a day to
keep your insides working.  And exercise your arms and legs so the
muscles don't die."

      Frank laughed.  "I think the oral feeding is what made me finally wake
up.  I kept dreaming someone was pouring something down my throat to
choke me."

      Joe smiled and nodded.  "That was me.  I put a feeding tube down your
throat to make sure you don't choke.  But that must be pretty awful in
itself.  It anchors to the sides of your mouth, so they may be a little
sore."

      Frank touched the corners and nodded.  "That's okay.  But ... how am
I, physically?"

      The doctor replied from the doorway, where he'd been listening
unnoticed.  "Well, let's find out, shall we?"  He walked over to the bed
and removed the straps and the sheet covering the lower half of Frank's
body, all the while speaking briskly.  "Forgive me for eavesdropping, but
I wanted to see how alert and aware you were.  You seem to be doing well
in those areas.  That doesn't always happen.  Now let's see how you've
fared physically.  I'm Dr. Parkins, by the way.  I've been your attending
physician since you returned home."  He turned to Joe.  "Why don't you
get me a bathing tray and some fresh bedding."  

      As Joe left he turned back to Frank.  "Now, this may get a bit messy,
so don't be embarrassed.  You're mostly in working order, but we automated
some things for our own convenience.  I'm going to disconnect the hoses
now and we may have a minor rebellion in those parts as a result."  He
worked as he spoke, keeping Frank distracted from the intermittent pains
of the disconnection process.  By the time Joe returned, Dr. Parkins was
ready to use the equipment he brought.  Again he distracted Joe, at least
partially, Frank realized, to save Frank from embarrassment in front of
his brother.  "Why don't you rummage around and find something for Frank
to wear.  A johnny's nice and convenient for us, but not the height of
fashion."  Joe obediently turned to Frank's chest of drawers and found
some cutoff sweatpants and a T-shirt that Frank had used as sleepwear. 
The doctor, meanwhile, cleaned the entry and exit points of the tubing,
reporting as he went.  "Nice and clean, no sign of irritation or
infection.  You may experience a little discomfort, just from change of
diet and lack of use, but everything looks very good from here."  He
lightly bandaged Frank's arm.  "That should be scabbed over in a week and
you can stop covering it.  I don't want to risk infection.  Where you've
been immobile for so long, your immunity's bound to be low and you don't
need to get sick now."

      Dr. Parkins folded over the bottom half of the bedding and covered it
with Frank's top sheet, covering him with a clean one.  "Now, Frank, give
me your hands.  He stood at Frank's waist and reached out.  Frank placed
his hands in the doctor's.  "Joe, I want you to support Frank's back as
he sits up, but don't push him up.  Put your arm across the middle of his
back as it comes off the bed and keep it there.  Frank, pull yourself up
against my arms."  Frank did as he was told, amazed at how difficult it
was.  The doctor pulled gently and evenly, and Joe's arm was reassuring
on his back.  The doctor slowly moved until he was even with Frank's
feet, then he admonished Joe, "Get ready to take his weight, he won't be
able to support himself," and let go of Frank's hands.  Joe pushed the
rail down and slid onto the bed so that Frank was leaning against him. 
Frank was panting with the effort.

      "Take deep breaths," Dr. Parkins instructed.  Frank nodded.  When he
was breathing normally again, Dr. Parkins continued.  "Here's what we're
going to do.  We're going to move you to a chair while we change the
bedding.  Joe's gotten very proficient at making the bed with you in it,
but we'll give him a break this evening.  At the same time, I'll be
assessing your muscle tone and strength.  Now, push against the bed with
your hands to sit up."  Frank did as he was told, straining with the
effort, and Dr. Parkins caught his shoulders to hold him upright.  "Joe,
get the desk chair and bring it over to the bed.  Yes, right about
there," Dr. Parkins nodded as Joe placed the chair about halfway down the
bed and a few feet away.  "Now come here and support Frank's back just
the way you did before.  Good.  Frank, put your arm around Joe's shoulder
and use it to pivot your body.  I'll help you get your legs off the bed. 
Joe, let Frank do the moving, you just follow along to support him." 
Frank felt a moment of vertigo as his feet touched the floor.  He leaned
further forward until the dizziness passed and Joe tightened his grip
around Frank.

      Dr. Parkins waited until Frank straightened against Joe's arm.  "All
right, Joe, let go of Frank now.  Frank, hold onto the bed if you need
to, but see if you can support yourself now."  Joe and the doctor both
stayed close, but Frank managed to hold himself steady.  "When you're
ready, Frank, take Joe's and my hands and stand up."  Frank hesitated,
then, marshaling his strength, pushed off the bed with his hands. 
Swaying precariously he reached out for support.  "Not precisely what I
meant, but very good.  Put your weight on us, now, and walk over to the
chair."  It was only a few steps, but Frank was shaking with fatigue by
the time they eased him into the chair.  Joe crouched next to him,
keeping him from slipping sideways. 

      Dr. Parkins expertly stripped and remade the bed, while speaking to
the boys over his shoulder.  "I'll bring a walker tomorrow.  You'll need it
until you get some strength back.  Joe, help Frank get that T-shirt and
shorts on and wrap him in a blanket.  I'll contact a good physical
therapist I know, too.  She'll come to the house, probably starting next
week.  Joe, you'll want to get a chair for the stairs so Frank won't be
confined up here.  Frank, I want you sitting up at least three hours a
day.  You can read, watch TV, work your computer, whatever, but do it
sitting up not lying back in bed.  And I want you out of bed twice a day
for at least 15 minutes each time."  The brothers nodded their
understanding and agreement.  "All right, then.  Are you up to walking
back to the bed?"

      "I'll give it a try," Frank said.  He leaned heavily on Joe both for
balance and support as he stepped from chair to bed.  He sat on the edge
of the bed, exhausted, until Dr. Parkins signaled Joe to help him lay
down and get comfortable.

      "Now, I want both of you to get a good night's sleep tonight."

      "Is that safe for Frank?" Joe asked.

      "I don't think he's going to slip back into a coma, Joe," the doctor
replied reassuringly.  "And you can't hope to keep him awake forever. 
We've already exhausted him."

      "I guess," Joe said, unconvinced.

      The doctor raised an eyebrow.  "And I don't want you up all night
watching him either.  If you can't stop worrying, sleep in here with
Frank, but you'll need your rest, too.  You've had a lot to do caring for
Frank up until now, but the job doesn't end here.  Frank will need a lot
of support, physical and moral, until he's built up his strength and
stamina.  Now, on the subject of food:  Frank, I want you to eat five
small meals a day.  Stop when you feel full or satisfied.  If you get
hungry during the day, ask for a snack immediately.  Joe, make sure Frank
eats regularly and doesn't overeat.  I'm afraid I don't know his habits
well enough to know which way he would err.  Keep the food plain, but it
doesn't have to be bland and it should be varied.  Keep track of what he
eats so if there are any digestive problems we'll have someplace to start
from.  As far as digestion and so forth, Frank, don't expect to know what
normal is for a couple of months.  And if you're going to be shy about
that with Joe, tell me now and I'll arrange for a private nurse."

      Frank was leaning on his elbows listening to the doctor.  Now he and
Joe exchanged rueful grins and he shook his head.  "No, I think it's too late
to be shy if Joe's been taking care of me for over a year."

      "Good."  Dr. Parkins was dismantling the IV tower as he spoke.  "Then
I'll ask you to make sure Joe doesn't wear himself out either."  Frank
nodded seriously.  "I'll be going then.  Take care of each other.  Joe
started to get up from his perch on the bed, but the doctor waved him
back.  "I can let myself out.  And I have nothing to say to you that
shouldn't be said in front of Frank."  Joe reddened slightly and glanced
at Frank, who grinned up at him.  "Take care of each other and get some
sleep.  I'll see you around 11 tomorrow."  With that Dr. Parkins left the
room.

      After the doctor left, Joe turned to Frank.  "Are you sleepy?"

      "No.  Tired, but not sleepy.  A little thirsty."

      "I'll go lock up and get you some juice.  Would a bedpan be okay for
tonight?  Just in case?" Joe asked apologetically.

      "A bedpan would be fine.  Don't worry about it."  Frank smiled to
encourage his brother.  "And maybe a toothbrush."

      "Right.  Your mouth must feel really weird."

      Frank nodded.  "It does.  And bring a mirror in, too."  At Joe's
quickly hidden grimace, Frank continued, "I know I must look awful.  I just want
to know how awful."  

      Joe left to lock up and collect the requested items and Frank lay back
down on the bed, running his hands over the cool sheets.  He closed his
eyes briefly.  He could hear Joe downstairs gathering supplies for the
night.  "Two years," he murmured to himself.  Suddenly, he needed to see
the outdoors.  With an effort, he pulled himself into a sitting position
and inched to the side of the bed so he could look out the window.  The
backyard was edged in gold and red by the setting sun.  He felt the
breeze on his face and sighed.  

      Joe came in and put his packages on the desk.  Walking over to Frank,
he asked, "Want me to swing the bed around so you can be more comfortable?" 
 Frank nodded and lay back on his side.  Joe swung the foot of the bed so
that the side was against the wall and Frank could look out the window
easily.  "I've got an idea.  Now there's room to pull your bed up next to
this one."  Joe turned to pull the other bed from the corner, but Frank
stopped him.

      "Joe, it's not necessary for you to sleep in here."  At his brother's
determined look he relented.  "All right.  But give me the toothbrush and
stuff first."

      Joe adjusted the hospital bed to a sitting position and moved a
bedtable over with toothbrush, toothpaste, and water.  Then, while he wrestled the
other bed into position, Frank slowly brushed his teeth and rinsed his
mouth.  He found even that tired him.  He lay back and watched, amused,
as Joe fussily rearranged the furniture so that the TV was viewable from
both beds and Joe could easily move around the room.  He was just about
satisfied when the phone rang.

      "Joe?" his mother's voice came over the line.  "You were supposed to
call us at 9.  Is everything all right?"

      "Everything's fine, Mom.  Just a sec," Joe replied.  Putting his hand
over the receiver, he spoke to Frank.  "It's Mom.  Want to say hello?"

      Frank nodded, but asked, "Will she even recognize my voice?"

      "Sure.  You sound like you, just softer.  Let me bring the phone
over." Joe tugged at the long cord to free it from the tangle behind the desk. 
"Hey, Mom, is Dad there?  There's somebody here who'd like to say hello
to both of you."

      "Yes, he is.  Fenton, don't walk away.  Who's there?"

      "Hi, Mom," was all Frank could manage to get out before his mother
interrupted.

      "Frank?!  Oh my God!  Fenton, it's Frank!"

      "What?  Let me have the phone.  Frank?"

      "Yes, Dad, it's me.  How are you?"

      "How am I!  How are you!  When did you ..."  Fenton Hardy was rarely
at a loss for words, but this was one event that left him speechless.

      "I'm okay.  I've been ... awake ... for a couple of hours now, I
guess."

      "I don't even know what to ask you, son.  It's wonderful to hear your
voice.  Hold on, your mother wants to talk to you."

      "Oh, Frank, it's so good to hear you.  Are you all right?  We'll get
the next flight home."

      "I'm okay.  Joe's taking good care of me.  You ... you don't have to
hurry home.  I'll be here."

      "Yes, of course you will.  But I want to hurry home.  Has the doctor
been there?"

      "Yes, Joe called him right away."

      "What did he say?"

      "A lot of things.  Joe will tell you."  Frank abruptly handed the
phone to Joe and sank back on the bed, closing his eyes in exhaustion and
frightening Joe, who shook him roughly.  "I'm not comatose, just tired,"
he whispered, "Talk to Mom."

      "Mom?  Hi.  Yeah, he gets tired real easily.  The doctor said that'll
pass as he gets stronger.  Basically, we're supposed to feed him and
exercise him and he'll perk up.  Really, that's all.  Hi Dad.  Yeah,
we're both fine.  And tired.  No, no, I can handle it.  If I need a
break, I'll call Chet like we said.  The doctor's coming back tomorrow
morning, so if we have any questions or anything he'll be right here.  I
think Frank's hungry, so I better go get him something to eat.  Tell Mom
I love her."  Frank tapped his arm.  "Make that, `we love her'.  Okay. 
'Bye."

Chapter 2

      Frank sat bolt upright in bed.  There it was again.  The dream of
falling.  Memory brought into nightmare.  How much of it was true memory
and how much dream?  Was there really a faint scrape of metal before the
ledge gave way?  Who were the two men standing over him?  Did they come
from hidden fears of the Assassins, or were they real?  Why did he hear
them saying, `Their friends are coming.  We'll have to get the other one
another time.'?

      Frank lay back down and tried to relax into sleep.  The dream came too
often to ignore.  At breakfast he would ask Joe how much could be real.

***

      Joe looked thoughtful when Frank broached the subject.  He was
thinking back past two years of pain.  "I don't know," he said finally.  "We
didn't check for sabotage;  it didn't occur to us.  It seemed like a
horrible accident.  After all, we weren't on a case or anything.  In
fact, we haven't run into the Assassins in quite a while."

      "But we were on their `Best Enemies' list."

      "True."  Joe shrugged.  "It's possible.  But the two men were probably
the two paramedics from the helicopter.  I didn't see anybody else
around."

      "Not worth pursuing, then?"

      "It's been over two years, Frank," Joe said as gently as he could. 
"Any evidence is probably gone.  It could have been a murder attempt;  I'm
certainly not saying it wasn't.  But there haven't been any attempts on
my life since."

      "And it's at least equally likely that I mixed up the Assassins and
the fall in my head," Frank finished for Joe.  If the nightmare hadn't
continued to recur, that might have been the end of it.


      Frank watched from the desk chair as Joe and their father dismantled
the hospital bed and removed it.  The physical therapist had recommended
Frank return to his own bed, where the extra effort of sitting up and
rising unaided would exercise his lower back and chest muscles.  Fenton
left with the last pieces of the bed and Joe began making up Frank's
regular bed.

      Idly, Frank toed on the power strip of the computer on the desk.  The
whirring attracted Joe's attention and he walked over, grinning.

      "Your fifteen minutes out of bed are up," he said, not offering to
help Frank to the newly made-up bed, "but if you're not too tired, I've been
meaning to ask you how to get into some of your programs."

      "I'm more bored than tired.  What do you need?"

      "The night you came out of the coma, I was going to start rummaging
through looking for your foreign-language password guesser."

      "Which one?  They're language specific."

      "Oh.  Well, it's just as well I didn't try, then.  I suppose they're
password protected, too."

      "Not the programs, just the computer itself.  But you know the
password."

      "I did once, but you wouldn't let me write it down anywhere, so I'm
afraid I've forgotten it.  It's been two years."  Frank winced.  "Sorry. 
Do you remember?"

      I'd better, or I'll have to format the disk and reload everything. 
Let's see."  Frank flexed his fingers and began typing.  "Yes, there it
is," he announced as the screen cleared without flaring red in warning of
an uncleared access attempt.  He turned away to face Joe.  "It hasn't
really been two years for me, I guess.  Now, what do you need done?  My
programs aren't very generic, I'm afraid.  I always seem to have to
generate them in a hurry and I never seem to have the time to merge them
into a generalized codebreaker."

      But Joe was staring at the blinking day-glo yellow pictograph in the
upper left of the screen.  "What's that?" he asked, ignoring Frank's
question.

      Frank followed his gaze and, recognizing the icon, carefully kept both
expression and tone neutral as he answered. "Incoming message.  Probably
one of my bulletin boards telling me my subscription's expired.  What can
you expect after two years?"  He smiled in Joe's direction, but avoided
his brother's eyes.  "Now," he prompted, "what language did you need to
work with?"

      "Huh?"  Joe tore his eyes from the screen.  The icon looked vaguely
familiar to him, but he couldn't quite place it.  "German and Arabic
right now.  We've got two cases ... Well, they're confidential, you
know."

      Frank swallowed the hurt that rose in his throat.  Both Joe and his
father seemed to be carefully excluding him from the detective business
of which he had been so integral a part.  He wondered if something were
wrong with him.  Something they didn't know how to tell him that would
make him unable to resume his old life.  He didn't feel strong enough to
force the issue.  "Right.  I understand."  He calmed himself and
continued, "Well, German's easy.  I can base that on English and just add
the additional notation that can be input from a keyboard.  For Arabic
I'll have to pretty much build a new program, although I can start from
one of the other non-Roman alphabet programs I've written."

      "Great!  I'll tell Dad.  When can we start?"

      "Right now, if you like.  You'll need the modem numbers for wherever
you're trying to break into."

      "I don't want to overtire you."

      "You won't.  Besides, once I get the program done, you'll take over. 
I don't know what you're looking for."  Frank did not quite succeed in
keeping his voice level.

      Joe took the hint.  "If you're up to it, why don't you start the
program now, and I'll try to catch Dad before he leaves.  He's got the phone
numbers, anyway."  Frank nodded and turned to the keyboard as Joe left
the room.

      Joe returned quickly with Fenton and both watched Frank smoothly
manipulating the computer.  Finally, Frank turned to them.  "It's ready
to be tested.  Just type `deutsch' and press the Enter key.  Then you'll
be prompted for a phone number.  Type it in with dashes and go from
there.  When the program reaches a protected area, it will prompt you for
permission to codebreak.  If you give it the okay, it works
automatically.  When it's done, it will turn the system over to you and
you can do your search.  The program continues in the background and will
alert you if it detects you're being monitored."   He reached for his
walker, but Fenton stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

      "Is Joe going to be able to get in and search for the information?"

      Frank shrugged.  His brother, who couldn't even remember passwords
without writing them down, was not adept at working his way through
secure computer systems.  "I'll be here if Joe has any questions or needs
help.  But I can't look for something when I don't know what it is I'm
looking for," he responded softly, looking at his father and not masking
his emotions.

      Fenton searched his son's upturned face and seemed to come to a
reluctant decision.  "All right, Frank.  You're the right person for the
job.  Are you sure you feel strong enough to take it on?"

      Frank smiled ruefully.  "It doesn't take much physical strength or
stamina.  The hard part's in the beginning:  deciding whether there are
any boobytraps likely to notice the program working.  If there are, I
modify the program to avoid them, then let it go.  It will work
automatically until it clears the security barrier, and then alert me so
I can go after ... whatever it is."

      "What you're looking for is a personnel file.  Here's a list of names
it might be under.  It also might be some perturbation of these.  You'll be
in the German Embassy's computer system.  Here's the phone number."

      As Frank took the papers from his father he felt a weight lift from
his
mind, a weight as heavy as the one that had crushed his chest.  He smiled
and nodded when Joe asked, "Could I watch?  I really don't think I could
do this.  I don't even know what boobytraps to look for ..."

      Fenton left quietly as Frank began explaining, "It really isn't too
difficult.  You look for counters, monitors, programs with automatic
start-ups that run concurrently with login programs ..."

***

      Frank swung his legs slowly off the side of the bed.  The hospital bed
had been easier to get out of, but his own bed was comfortingly familiar.
 He reached over for the walker and pulled himself upright.  After
washing and dressing, he stood in the hall and listened for noises
downstairs.  Silence greeted him.  Good, it was early enough that he
could have some time alone.  He made his way slowly over to the computer,
eased himself into the desk chair in front of it, and booted it up.  

      Now for the message from the Network.  Clicking on the blinking yellow
icon, he waited for the security screen.  Effortlessly the passwords came
back to him and he keyed them in.  Then the message appeared on the
screen.  It was undated and might well have been waiting for him for two
years:

             Welcome back.  If you would like to respond to my previous
question, I would like to know your answer.

             Mr. Grey

      Frank whistled softly.  So that dream had also been based on memory. 
It came back clearly.  Out of a mental fog, Frank had become aware of Mr.
Grey in a surgeon's costume at his bedside in a white room, talking over
him.  "Is he coming out of it? ... Yes, I know you can't keep him
conscious.  Give me two minutes then come back and take him to surgery. 
And forget any of this ever happened."  A door had closed and then Mr.
Grey's hand had turned Frank's head so that their eyes met.  "Have they
hurt you badly enough this time to play the game by our rules?"  Then
everything fogged over again and Frank, as he now realized, sank back
into a coma that had lasted until a week ago.

      Almost without thinking, Frank typed the codes to reply.  His answer
was one word: "Yes."  Quickly he cleared the screen and pulled up the Arabic
password-breaking program he was adapting from the Japanese version he
already had.

***

      Frank lay awake in bed thinking.  Working with his father and Joe had
made Frank realize they were not excluding him from their work due to any
mental lapse on his part.  Dr. Parkins had gently but clearly convinced
him that he would never regain his former strength and stamina
completely.  There simply was not much he could do.  Although the
computer was a valuable tool, Fenton did not need a full-time computer
researcher.  

      What was he to do, then?  First, of course, he had to recover as fully
as he could.  Right now, moving around without the walker was difficult. 
But by year's end, according to Dr. Parkins, he should be able to
consider resuming a non-stressful, somewhat sedentary life.  Eventually
he would be able to do some physical activities, but not regularly or
strenuously for any length of time.  So he might take an outdoor
vacation, the doctor suggested, but field work as a detective was out of
the question.  

      Frank thought about possibilities.  He could, of course, go to
college, and that looked like the best place to start, but he was unenthusiastic. 
His whole life had been focused on detective and anti-terrorist work. 
Still, Joe was going to school part-time and his father had been hinting
that Frank might want to consider enrolling part-time for Spring semester
and full-time the following year.  Again gentle suggestions only.  No one
wanted to upset him unduly.  He chuckled: except, of course Mr. Grey. 
Frank wondered when he would hear from him.  It's been only two weeks, he
reminded himself.  Still restless, he got up and booted the computer.  A
yellow icon blinked at him.  He grinned back at it and keyed in the
commands to read the message.

             Reply acknowledged.  When your physical condition allows,
further instructions will follow.

             Grey.

      Nothing like verbosity from the Network, Frank thought.  Obviously, he
was being monitored.  Further instructions, it seemed, might be several
months away.

Chapter 3

      Getting downstairs was still enough of a chore to exhaust Frank,
especially since he had to fight down an irrational panic of falling. 
The doctor had reassured him that it was a normal reaction after the fall
he'd taken and that he should work through it.  So, as soon as the
therapist okayed it, Frank started forcing himself to walk down the
stairs instead of using the chair.  At first Joe had almost carried him,
but now he managed on his own, gripping the railings, with Joe in front
walking backwards.  Now, settled in the recliner, his heart had finally
stopped hammering and he could concentrate on the AI Conference
Proceedings from a year ago while waiting for Joe to return with the
groceries.  Their father was off on a case and their mother was visiting
their Aunt Gertrude at her retirement home for the weekend.

      Frank ignored the doorbell.  At the speed he was able to muster,
whoever was ringing would be gone by the time he got there.  But the tapping on
the window behind him was accompanied by Chet Morton's annoyed voice. 
"Joe Hardy, I can see the light on, so I know you're in there!  I'm
getting soaked out here!  Stop hiding and let me in!"

      "Okay, Chet, take it easy," Frank called back as loudly as he could. 
He pushed himself upright in the chair and pulled himself to his feet as
quickly as he could.  Since he was supposed to be weaning himself from
the walker, he had left it upstairs.  Walking on his own would slow him
down further, but Chet would just have to wait.  Using the furniture and
wall for balance, Frank made his way to the door, fumbled with the lock,
and slowly stepped back to open the door.

      Chet came through the door in a wet huff.  "Gee, Joe, what are you
hiding?  You haven't let anybody come over in weeks.  What's the big
idea?"  Chet finally flipped his wet hair out of his eyes and looked at
the person who had opened the door.  "Frank?"  Frank nodded, leaning
against the foyer wall for support.  "You're what Joe's been hiding!"

      "Probably so," Frank replied pushing himself upright.  "Hang your coat
up and come into the living room, I can't stand up for long."

      Frank walked slowly back to the recliner, Chet catching up with him on
the way.  "Need help?" Chet asked, offering his arm.  Frank accepted
gratefully.  Trying to hurry had tired him again.  After they sat, Chet
asked, "How long have you, ummm, been back?"

      "A month or so, I guess," Frank replied thoughtfully.  "I guess Joe
figured too many people would tire me out.  He's probably right.  Almost
everything tires me out.  And Joe's been my full-time nurse since I woke
up.  This is the first time I've been alone since I got back on my feet."

      "A little overprotective, maybe?" Chet suggested, although Frank
looked like he needed a full-time nurse.

      "Maybe," Frank conceded.  "When I was still pretty much in bed, I
couldn't get into trouble.  But now, well, I guess I tend to push myself
sometimes, and I'm pretty unsteady on my feet."  Frank paused.  "Anyway,
I'm glad for the company.  Do you want anything to eat?"  At Chet's grin
he continued, "Silly question.  Help yourself to whatever you want from
the kitchen."

      Chet got up to rummage through the fridge, calling back, "Do you want
me to bring you anything?"

      Frank started to say `no', then remembered the doctor's admonition
that he wasn't eating enough.  "Maybe a glass of milk and a small portion of
whatever you're having."

      "Okay, coming right up." Chet appeared shortly with a tray of cookies
and milk.  "Do you need a table or something?" he asked awkwardly,
putting the tray on the coffee table.

      "No, I'm not any more uncoordinated than I was.  I can manage milk and
cookies."

      "Sorry, I don't really know ..." Chet trailed off.

      Frank tried to set him at ease.  "Relax," he said biting into a cocoa
drop.  "I've learned to be grateful for any and all assistance.  Tell me,
what's going on in the outside world?"

      Chet felt more comfortable sharing gossip and local news, and Frank
found it easy to listen to him.  Although some of what Chet told him
wasn't news, Chet put a different slant on things than Joe or his father
did.

      Joe saw Chet's car out front as he drove up.  A variety of thoughts
ran through his mind as he parked in the driveway and gathered up the bags of
food.  Why didn't Chet mind his own business?  Hadn't Joe told him not to
come over?  What if he got Frank upset or overtired?  Maybe Joe shouldn't
have left Frank alone; the shopping could have waited until Mom got home.
 What if Frank had somehow gotten hurt or sick and had to call for help? 
The last thought made him hurry to the door.  Rushing in, he heard Frank
chuckling.

      "So the shop in Phil's garage is now a wholly-owned subsidiary of
Sony?"

      "Yea.  Really weird."  Chet confirmed.  "On the other hand," he
pointed out, "I have no qualms about letting Phil pick up the check at Mr. Pizza
now!"

      "I guess!" Frank laughed.   The kitchen screen shut with a slam. 
"Joe?"  Frank called.  "We've got company."

      Joe put down the grocery bags and managed to stroll into the living
room, breathing almost normally.  He tried to sound casual.  "So I hear. 
I guess you're caught up on two-years' gossip now."

      "Just about."  Frank eyed his brother.  Joe couldn't quite disguise
his worry.  "I'm fine, Joe.  I only got up to let Chet in.  He's been taking
care of me ever since."  Frank gestured at the snack tray.

      Joe nodded.  "Okay, okay.  Maybe I fuss too much.  What brought you
out in the rain anyway, Chet?"  His look told Frank they'd finish the
discussion privately.

      "You.  I knew you were hiding something, so I decided to find out what
it was.  I figured you wouldn't make me stand out in the rain."  Chet
looked uncomfortable.  "Hey, look, I'm sorry.  But I didn't do any harm,
did I?"

      Both Hardys replied "No," at the same time.

      "Why don't we all watch the game?" Joe suggested.  The others agreed
and Chet volunteered to unload the groceries and bring in the soda and chips.

      After Chet left, Frank asked Joe to help him to the bathroom and then
started towards the stairs.  "Why don't you just stay down here until
after supper?" Joe asked.  "It's just the two of us and if you're well
enough to entertain Chet for the afternoon, you're probably well enough
to eat at the table and save me a couple of trips up and down stairs."

      "Okay," said Frank cautiously.  "I thought you'd want me to rest."

      "Are you tired?" Joe asked.

      Frank nodded.  "A little.  But I can lie down on the couch until
supper's ready and I'll feel better."

      "Great.  I'll start supper.  Can you make it to the couch by
yourself?"

      "Let me try.  I got to the door for Chet."

      "Okay.  Just holler if you need me."  Joe went quickly into the
kitchen and busied himself with the cooking.  When he came out a few minutes
later, Frank was lying on the couch with his eyes closed.  Joe said his
name softly in case he was asleep, but Frank opened his eyes immediately.
 Joe pulled a chair up and straddled it.  "Feel up to talking?"

      "Sure.  But isn't it listening that I'll be doing?"  Frank pushed
himself into a sitting position.

      "Why?"

      Frank met Joe's eyes.  "Are there things I haven't been told?  About
my physical ... or maybe mental condition?"

      "The doctor said that first night that he had nothing to say that you
couldn't hear."

      "That was the first night.  And, to be honest, I didn't give it much
thought until now.  But," Frank sighed, "maybe I should have noticed how
... isolated I was.  I'd rather know the truth, whatever it is."

      "No, Frank, honest," Joe spoke quickly to allay his brother's fears. 
"There's nothing wrong with you that you don't know about.  Nothing
that's not going to get better with time.  It's just that," Joe reddened
and looked down.  "I've been kind of making decisions for you.  Without
anybody telling me to.  I didn't even discuss it with the folks or Dr.
Parkins."

      "Like what?"

      "Like whether other people should know you were awake.  And if you
were strong enough to have visitors and what news you should hear.  Maybe some
of the stuff Chet told you."

      Frank was silent for a long time.  Joe looked up and waited, watching
his face.  Finally Frank looked at Joe again, as if gauging the
completeness of his story.  "That's it?  There's nothing more?"

      "I swear.  That's it.  And I'm sorry.  I should have at least told you
what I was doing."

      "At least.  But," Frank conceded, "I think you made the right
decisions. If you thought people would want to visit, anyway.  It would have
exhausted me as little as a week ago, I'm sure.  But," he hesitated, then
continued.  "I would rather have heard about Callie's fiancé from you." 
He sighed.  "It's not that I'm surprised.  Two years and no sign of
improvement is ..." he shrugged, at a loss for words.  "But it would have
been easier for me if you had told me."

      Joe walked over to Frank and put his hand on his shoulder.  "I'm
sorry, Frank.  It must be hard to take."

      "It's okay.  Just one other thing."

      "What?"

      "If I'm strong enough, I'd like to start going outside with you.  Not
far and probably not for long periods, but maybe to Mr. Pizza or
something."

      "Sure.  We can check with the doctor Friday."

      "Wait, I wasn't done.  Before that happens, I'd like you to search
your memory and be really sure that I'm caught up.  Finding out about Callie,
well, it was more of a jolt than I'd like to admit.  I don't want more
surprises.  I'm not sure how well I'd handle them in public."

      "No problem.  I'll try to go over the past two years, but I think,
really, Callie's engagement was the only thing I held back."


      The yellow icon appeared suddenly in the middle of Frank's edit
session, accompanied by an incessant beeping. This job was for Phil Cohen.  A
program to "painlessly" translate his documentation, written in English,
to Japanese.  Frank was glad he had closed his door.  Joe had decided
heavy metal at top volume was the appropriate background music for
studying for his midterms.  Frank thought it was a good test of the
structural integrity of the house.  Although the sound was dampened by
the closed door, the vibrations still came through his feet.  He saved
the program and exited.  Following acceptance of Frank's codes, the
message came up:

             You have changed your mind about attending school in January. 
Instead, you'd like to try an office job for a while, perhaps attending night
school like your brother.  Start reading the classifieds, but don't find
anything worth following up until the first Wednesday in January.  The
want ads that day will include a boxed ad luring "computer hackers" to
use their skills legitimately for a high-paying career opportunity.  That
one will pique your interest.

***

      "Dad, do you have a minute?"  Frank stood in the doorway to his
father's study.

      "Of course, son, come on in."  Fenton swiveled his chair to face his
son, noting that Frank now stood straighter and no longer kept a
tentative hand out for balance or support.  He moved more quickly and
smoothly, too.  "What can I do for you?"

      "Well, this is difficult for me," Frank began, seating himself
opposite his father.  "I know you want me to go back to school..."  Fenton nodded
encouragingly, but Frank hesitated.  It was all very well for Mr. Grey to
tell Frank what to "think" and do, but it still left him, as it always
had, with the problem of how to get where he needed to be.  "Well, I'm
not sure I want to go to college just now."

      "I see," Fenton said, carefully keeping his tone neutral.  "All right.

Do you feel you need more time to build up your strength?"

      "No, that's not it.  Actually, I feel fine most of the time, as long
as I don't push myself too hard.  What I think I'd like to do is get a job."

      "Frank, I'd love to be able to offer you one, I assume you mean a
full-time paying position, but I just don't need ..." Fenton began.

      Frank interrupted him.  "No, Dad, I wasn't asking you to make a place
for me.  You don't need a computer jockey full-time.  I know that.  No, I
thought I'd look for an office job, someplace where I could work on a
computer, I guess, since that's what I'm good at."

      "Have you talked to Dr. Parkins about getting a full-time job."

      "More or less."  A query had assured Frank that Dr. Parkins would
support his plans.

      "Well, let me think about it.  School would be much less strenuous,
since you could always limit the number of classes you take.  But let me
think about it."

***

      "Find anything interesting, son?"  That had become Fenton's nightly
greeting, since Dr. Parkins had assured him that Frank was physically
capable of handling an office job.  Fenton had his doubts about Frank's
psychological stability, but Dr. Parkins reminded him that Frank would
have to face his fears and deal with them himself.

      Frank looked up from the paper.  "As a matter of fact I did."  Frank
had discussed various ads with his father over the past month, but had
inevitably concluded they weren't exactly what he was looking for.  Now
he passed his father a folded section of paper.  Circled in red was a
boxed ad.

      "Computer hackers, eh?" his father read, chuckling.  "Got your
attention right away, I'll bet."

      If you only knew, thought Frank.  Aloud he said, "Yeah, it did.  I'm
going to follow up tomorrow morning.  I guess I renewed my driver's
license just in time."

      "Hmm, yes, I guess you did.  We'll have to think about getting you
something to drive once you get a job."  Fenton continued reading. 
"Local phone number.  Northboro?"

      "Yes, I looked up the exchange.  That's not too far, about twenty
minutes unless there's traffic."

      "Well, good luck."

      "Thanks."

***

      "Mom," Frank said, hanging up the kitchen phone and turning toward her
as he pocketed the notes he had taken.  "Can I borrow your car this
afternoon?"

      "Of course, Frank," Laura Hardy replied.  "I don't need it today at
all. Where are you going?"

      "I got an interview for that job I told you about.  It's in Northboro,
right off the highway, at 2 this afternoon."

      "That's fine, dear," his mother replied, opening her purse to get the
keys.  "Here you go.  I hope you do well."

      Frank just nodded.  The conversation had been unique for a job query. 
He had called and asked about the job and the woman who answered the
phone asked for his name.  When he told her who he was, she immediately
responded, "Countermand using your keypad," a request for him to use the
telephone keypad to give her his passcode.  Once he had done that,
shielding the phone from his mother, there was a pause.  Then a curt:
"Your appointment is for 2:00 p.m. today at 1335 Woodbridge, Suite 14C." 
He thanked her, and hung up.

      Two days after his "interview", the instructions he had been promised
appeared as a computer message:

             Accept position when letter arrives.  New codename: Newblood. 
Plan vacation in Rockies with Chicago contacts.  Agent Hiker will assist via
Fayne.

      Frank found the job stimulating, even though his time was spent at a
desk doing research for field agents and, once he was used to the
routine, accepting incoming calls from "outside" contacts.  He was given
a phone number that was answered with his real name, for use by family
and friends;  other calls were directed to Agent Frank Newblood,
something that took time to get used to.

      During his second month at work, Janie, the "receptionist" who
answered all incoming calls, came to his doorway with an amused look on her face. 
He raised an eyebrow in polite query.  "Your mom just called."

      "Oh?  Does she want me to call her back?"  Frank was puzzled.  Janie
usually buzzed him with messages.

      "No.  She wanted to talk to me."  Janie stifled a giggle.  "She wanted
to make sure you were eating lunch regularly."

      Frank shook his head.  "Sorry about that.  I was sick for a long time
and she still fusses over me."

      Janie grinned.  "It's okay.  I told her I would make sure you did."

      "Thanks, I appreciate it."

      "You're welcome.  But, you know, I have to keep my word now."

      "I promise I'll eat lunch every day."

      "Nope, not good enough," Janie countered.  "I'm afraid I'll have to
take you to lunch to make sure you eat."

      Frank now returned her grin.  "Fair enough.  But since it's your
chore, I'll treat."

      "Well," said Janie, "I'll let you this time.  Then we'll see."  She
turned to leave, then remembered something.  "Oh.  I have another message
for you.  Mr. Grey called.  He said to tell you that you owe Chicago some
letters."

      "And I need to schedule my vacation?" Frank asked.

      "No.  That's been done.  Last two weeks of August."

      "Thanks.  Anything else?"

      You'll be getting a mail-order delivery in the next week.  Check out
that everything works.  And I'm working on your handgun application for
Colorado."

      "Good.  Looks like you and Mr. Grey have covered everything."

      "All in the job description, Frank.  Lunch at Noon?"

      "Sounds good.  I'll pick you up out front."

Chapter 4

      Frank had been corresponding with Nancy Drew during his convalescence,
but had let it lapse as he became involved in his job.  Now he sat down
to write a long letter, couched in ambiguous phrases he hoped she would
decipher.  He spoke vaguely of his new job being more related than Nancy
might expect to the work they had been involved in some years back.  He
asked if George was still active in the Sierra Club and whether she had
any interest in working as a guide for climbers, say in the Rockies.  He
also confided that his family was overprotecting him, but his new bosses
and the doctors were allies.  He posted the letter and was unsurprised to
get a quick response.

      Nancy's reply was couched in equally vague terms.  She was glad to
hear from him.  She was still connected to some of their old colleagues and
was pleased that he was enjoying his job and that it made use of his
skills.  George had become a psychiatric therapist, specializing in
outdoor therapy, specifically risk-taking activities, such as mountain
climbing and survival camping.  She worked closely with both Outward
Bound and the Sierra Club.  When Nancy told her Frank had asked after
her, George said she had been planning to get in touch with the Hardys. 
She had been asked to do a survival training course for a small agency in
Northboro and wondered if she could stay with them.

      George came out at the end of April and Frank found himself assigned
to test the efficacy of the proposed course.  By unspoken agreement, neither
mentioned to the other Hardys that they were working together.  As far as
the rest of the family knew, George was on vacation, dropping Frank off
at work so that she could use his car.

      Frank checked into work each day, changed into climbing clothes, and
picked up his gear and a communicator that allowed him to answer family
phone calls from wherever he was.  He still avoided stairs, escalators,
and looking out windows from anything above the third floor (quite a
trick since he worked on the fourteenth floor of a high-rise), yet he was
now trying to curb his terror and relearn climbing skills, taking his
muscular weakness into account.  George found the task a challenge and
displayed great patience.  

      Janie, coordinating his activities and covering for him to his family,
was amused by the whole enterprise, but Frank found it more frightening
than anything else.  It wasn't until well into the second week, that
Frank felt confident enough to respond to Janie's jibes.  "Okay, maybe
climbing the shore cliffs isn't any more strenuous than filing your
nails.  Since that's what you spend your time doing, why not join us one
day?"

      George chimed in, "Yeah, that's a great idea.  There's a Ranger coming
in on Thursday to consult.  Why don't we make it a foursome?"

      Janie looked from one to the other, unsure where George fit into the
Network picture.  Finally she decided to play it straight.  "Okay, fine,"
she said, as if responding to a challenge.  "I'll get the desk covered
for next Thursday and join you all."

      Ranger Jim Hiker ("What a name!" George whispered to Frank, not
realizing it was a codename like Newblood) turned out to be heading for
an assignment in Colorado and wanted to refresh his skills.  The four met
at the office, picked up a lunch basket from the cafeteria staff and set
out for a day of hiking, climbing, and fun.  Frank wondered if Janie knew
who Hiker was and, further, whether Hiker's real purpose was to assess
Frank's readiness for his first field operation.  Putting this out of his
mind, Frank concentrated on balancing his pack and, since his chest
muscles were his weakest physical point, keeping as much pressure off his
chest as possible as they hiked to the top of the cliffs.  

      Frank and George had worked at both climbing up and rappelling down. 
He found it impossible to free climb, and George, understanding, didn't push
him, but switched instead to tethered belaying.  At first George had to
bully and insist, actually becoming belligerent to snap him out of his
panic on the second day, but now Frank could force mechanical movements
from his body without outside assistance and, once he began climbing, the
panic receded to something he could almost ignore.  Today the group would
be rappelling, with George taking the lead, Frank tethered second,
followed by Janie, and, last, Jim Hiker.

      "You have to get me down safely," Hiker joked, "I have the lunch."

      In fact, George was pleased to find she didn't even have to tug gently
on the line to get Frank started.  Although he crawled awkwardly off the
ledge, white-faced, he started as soon as George belayed and the line was
taut.  Janie followed, nervous for different reasons:  she really wasn't
experienced, having only been out during Network training school several
years ago.  Hiker, of course, moved with the same assurance George did.

      They did several climbs, including one traversing the cliffs, which
left Frank unable to breathe normally for several minutes.  George refused to
be concerned;  part of her training told her he had to overcome this
himself.  Hiker watched him closely, but also did nothing to help him. 
Janie fussed, until Frank managed to tell her he was all right.

      At the end of the day, as they changed in the men's locker, Jim Hiker
approached Frank.  "I'll be seeing you in August," he said offering his
hand.

      Frank took it, and nodded.  "Then this was a test."

      Jim shrugged.  "Call it an evaluation.  So we all know who we're
working with and what the skill levels are."

      "Fair enough.  In August, then."

***

      "Thanks, Nan," Frank said into the phone as Joe walked into his room. 
"If you and George are willing to put up with me, I do," he continued
after a pause.  "George told you how I am?"  Another pause.  "Okay, then,
make the reservations ... Hold on, he's right here;  I can ask him now." 
Frank turned to Joe.  "Want to join Nancy and George on a vacation in the
Rockies?" he asked.

      "In the Rockies?  Like in Colorado?"  Frank nodded.  "Tell Nancy
you'll call her back;  we've gotta talk about this."

      "You heard?" Frank said into the receiver.  "Probably.  No, I'm
decided ... Okay, give me the number ... Got it.  I'll call George tonight. 
'Bye."  Frank hung up and looked at Joe.  "Okay, give me the lecture."

      Joe didn't hesitate.  "You've become obsessed with the idea that your
fall was no accident.  Maybe it wasn't, but it's just too late to prove
anything.  And what good will it do if you can?  When has an Assassin
ever gone to trial?"

      "You're right, I am obsessed with it.  And the only way I can put it
to rest is to go back and see if there is evidence.  If there was a place
for two men to hide near the ledge and then near where I fell."  Frank
carefully phrased the rest of the information he could give Joe.  "George
has a ranger friend who looked into it.  There are back trails through
caves in the area.  They could have hidden that way.  If they knew the
area, they could have reached me before you did."

      "Okay, they could have.  I believe you, I'm not just humoring you. 
But how are you going to get up there?  It's been closed to climbers since
you fell."

      "George got special permission.  She's certified to take a small group
of experienced climbers.  And we won't be free climbing up;  we'll be
rappelling down."

      Joe counted down from ten and spoke evenly.  "Okay.  I've tried not to
hurt you.  Now it's time for some reality.  You still hesitate at the top
of the stairs.  Escalators are beyond your ability to cope."  His voice
rose despite his attempt at control.  "How the hell are you going to
mountain climb?"

      Frank sighed.  "When you were on the West Coast, George came out to
visit."

      "I know, you told me.  That's probably when you started planning
this."

      "Right.  And since she's a psychiatric therapist, it was a busman's
holiday for her.  What I didn't tell you, or anybody else, was what we
did.  We went up to the cliffs and George ... helped me work out my fears
a little.  It was not my idea, by the way, and on the second day she had
to practically drag me out because the first day was so bad.  By the end
of her visit, though, I could work my way down, tethered, without ...
coming apart completely.  Free climbing is beyond me.  But if I'm
tethered, once I'm over the edge, I'm more or less okay."

      "The shore cliffs are not the Rockies."

      "Height has nothing to do with it.  The stairs aren't the Rockies,
either.  And I can cope with an escalator - when I can force myself to
take the first step on."  Frank shook his head.  "It's that way with
everything.  Because I'm afraid of falling, I'm afraid to start down
anything with an incline.  That hasn't changed.  What George got me past
was being unable to continue.  I can do that now.  I don't freeze once I
get started."

      "I'll get Dad to stop you.  He can you know."

      "No, he can't.  One thing that two years did, little brother, is make
me old enough to make my own decisions legally.  You're not yet, but I am." 
Frank paused.  "Unless you have been lying to me about my mental
condition and Dad is my legal guardian."

      "No, I haven't lied," Joe returned sullenly.  "As far as I know, Dad
didn't have any papers drawn up.  Maybe if you hadn't come out of it by
now he would have."  He sighed and in an entirely different tone of voice
asked, "What will you do if you find evidence that it wasn't an
accident?"

      "I don't know.  That's one of the things Nancy and I were talking
about. If we're being watched, and I start snooping around the scene of the
accident, I'll be making myself a target.  That may bring them out to
finish the job.  It's another reason I'd like you to be with me.  I don't
think it's very safe for us to be separated once the Assassins learn I'm
well again.  Nancy thinks one of the reasons you haven't been targeted
since my fall is that you haven't been very visible."  Frank stopped and
looked at Joe.  "Will you come with me?"

      "I want to say `no', but you'll go anyway, won't you?"

      "As long as George and Nancy are willing, and they say they are."

      "Okay, then," Joe sighed.  "Count me in."  He held up his hand to stop
Frank's interruption.  "I know what you're going to ask.  I promise I
won't try to stop you from doing ... whatever you need to."

Chapter 5

      Joe bounced into Frank's room early the next Saturday.  Frank was
still in bed, enjoying the early morning sunshine on his face.  "C'mon sleepy
head!  We have to be packed and on our way to the airport by 10!"

      Frank sat up slowly and smiled at his brother.  "For someone who
didn't
want this trip to happen you're certainly in a rush all of a sudden."

      Joe grinned back at him.  "Well, I'm making the best of things.  And I
am looking forward to doing this with you.  It's been so long ..."  He
perked himself up again.  "Anyway, get up.  Mom's making breakfast and
then Chet'll be here to take us to the airport and you're not even out of
bed let alone packed."

      Frank laughed at his brother's impatience.  "I packed last night," he
said nodding toward the duffel and backpack on the floor.  I just have to
shower and dress."

      "Oh."  Joe looked mildly embarrassed.  He hefted the backpack.  "Do
you want me to take some of your stuff for you?" he asked awkwardly.  He felt
he had poured enough cold water on Frank's plans already and hated to
emphasize his physical weakness any further.

      "To be honest, I'm not sure I can carry the pack on my back at all.  I
checked with Dr. Parkins and he was skeptical, too; but he said I'd know
before I caused myself any damage.  I'm pretty sure I can haul the
duffel, though, and we won't be hiking any distance, so I could just drag
the pack."  He hesitated, running a mental inventory of what he had put
in the backpack.  "But if you have room ...?"

      "Yeah, sure, I'll repack so that you have our changes of clothes and I
have the heavy stuff.  No problem."

      "Okay, then, why don't you do that while I get dressed?"  Frank turned
away from Joe to pull off his T-shirt.  Joe noticed that he also angled
himself away from the mirror.

      "Frank?"  Joe had to get it out.  "Umm, I know you're sensitive about
the scars, but ... well, how are you going to manage when we're sharing a
tent?."

      Frank pulled a clean shirt over his head before he turned around.  "I
did the only thing I could think of.  When we first started planning the
trip, I wrote Nan and George letters telling them about ... how I look
and ... that I'm a little more ... modest ... than I used to be.  George
had already told Nan what I look like dressed, but I ... I knew it could
be a problem."  He paused.  "A lot of things like that could crop up.  I
kind of used it as an example.  But I have to get on with my life, and I
asked them to be patient with me.  Nancy wrote back that I was being a
goose and what were friends for.  That's when I finally decided I could
do this with their support - and yours - and I called to finalize the
details."

      "Okay," Joe said.  "Seems like you're way ahead of me as usual."  He
knelt and rummaged through Frank's pack to hide his distress.  He was
soon distracted by what he found.  "Three cameras!  Why on earth do you
need three cameras?"

      "They're each different, Joe.  If we find anything, we'll need
pictures, so I packed one 35mm for outdoor shots and close-ups.  Another one's for
the caves.  It's a low-light, high-speed model."

      Joe pulled out something he had identified as a camera, but that was
different from any he'd seen.  "And this one?"

      "Ahh, that one."  Frank hesitated.  He didn't want to lie to his
brother, but he didn't need the cross-examination either.  "It gathers
data for chemical spectroscopy analysis."

      "Oh.  Where'd you get it, I've never seen it before?"

      "It's something new.  It, uh, came in the mail."

      Joe looked up sharply.  Frank had been hurt when Joe and his father
tried to shield him from their detective work.  Now it seemed Frank was
trying to hide something himself.  He turned the camera, if that's what
it was, over.  No logo, serial numbers, or other markings marred its
surface.  "But I bet I wouldn't find it in a mail-order catalog."

      "Probably not," Frank admitted, glad he had decided to wear the
transceiver and laser pen, to say nothing of the small beretta, rather
than pack them.  They were still hidden in his dresser.  "Please, don't
ask me for any explanations.  I'm not ... at liberty to give them." 
Frank's voice went suddenly flat and hard.  "I have a job to do and I
intend to do it.  I'm including you ... and Nancy and George ... as much
as I can, but I'll do it without you if I must."

      "Frank, what's going on?" Joe demanded, suddenly realizing this was
not just Frank's personal obsession at work.

      Frank turned cold, blank eyes at his brother.  "Some things change
with circumstance.  Sometimes the rules have to change, too."

      Joe's brow furrowed at the seemingly cryptic remarks.  Then what Frank
was trying to tell him clicked into place.  "The Network," he said
simply, making it a statement, not a question.  Frank nodded curtly, on
his guard.  "Does Dad know?"

      "Yes.  He didn't like it, but he found there was nothing he could do. 
Both of us had already been through the training school, you'll recall."

      "Undercover, yes, but we did take all the courses anyway, didn't we?"

      "That's right.  So it was just a matter of agreement and activation."

      "So you're ..." Joe let the phrase dangle.  "I see.  Umm, I'll just
reorganize our packs, like you said."  He shoved the equipment back into
Frank's pack and stood with it.

      "Joe,"  Frank couldn't hold the professional distance with his
brother. "I'm sorry.  This was something I had to do and I had to do it alone. 
You don't feel the way I do, I know, and I don't want you to.  I hope you
never do.  I'm not the Grey Man yet.  But now I know where he's coming
from."  Joe nodded and left the room, head down.  Frank, looking after
him, murmured, "Not all scars show, Joe," in a voice too low for his
brother to hear.

***

      "Frank?" Nancy's voice behind him startled Frank.  He grabbed for a
shirt from his pack.  "Don't, Frank."

      "Don't what?" he asked, not turning around.

      "Don't hide," Nancy replied.  It was only two days into their
"vacation", but Nancy had decided to push Frank on this issue.  Each
morning he had stayed in his sleeping bag until everyone had left the
single oversized tent they all shared.  No matter how hot it got, he kept
his shirt on.  He bathed alone at night, which worried all of them: there
were too many dangers on the river in the dark.  Nancy had had enough. 
She walked towards him.  "Let me see."

      "Please, Nancy, don't do this.  Not now.  We've got enough to worry
about."

      Nancy's hand was on his shoulder.  "Turn around."

      Frank did as she asked, although his face was red with humiliation and
his hands were balled into fists.  He stood still, looking over her head
for several seconds, then asked, "Are you satisfied?"

      Nancy stared at the vivid blue scar ridges that slashed Frank's chest,
crossed at intervals by fainter red lines.  Finally, she sat on one of
the sleeping bags.  "Okay, it isn't just a ploy to keep me at a distance.
 I'm sorry."

      Frank looked down at her, shame forgotten in his confusion at her
response.  Shirt still in hand, he sat across from her on his sleeping
bag.  "What do you mean, `a ploy'?"

      Nancy sighed.  "I thought you were using your scars to keep me from
getting close."

      "Why would I do that?"

      "Because, because of what we avoided for so many years.  Now that
Ned's
...out of the picture, I thought maybe you thought I'd try to ..."  It
was Nancy's turn to blush.  She covered her face with her hands.

      "Nan," Frank reached out tentatively to touch her hand.  "I didn't
even
know that you weren't still with Ned.  I just ... I look like a freak;  I
don't want anyone to see it.  I still don't understand how Joe could take
care of me for all those months and not be sickened by the way I look."

      Nancy drew in a deep breath.  She let Frank lower her hands from her
face.  "I'm sorry.  You don't look like a freak, and I'm sure Joe didn't
even notice when he was taking care of you.  But I do see why you're shy
about the scars."  She shook her head.  "I'm so ... messed up about Ned,
I guess ... I just didn't think about your point of view.  George told me
how thin you were, but she didn't say much more.  Except she mentioned
this woman, Janie?"

      Frank laughed.  "Janie?  We're friends.  She's a coworker and probably
the first friend I made on the job.  But that's all.  If Janie's been
making a play for me, I've been totally unaware."  He sobered.  "You
know, I haven't even thought about that part of my life.  Maybe I'm not
ready to."  He shrugged.  "When I heard about Callie's engagement, I was
a little hurt, I think, but that's all.  And when I had time to think
about it, I was more relieved than anything else.  I've been investing
all my energy into recovering;  I haven't had time for anything else but
that and, well Joe would say my obsession with the Assassins."

      "I know what you mean.  That's what finally destroyed me and Ned."

      "The Assassins?"

      "My obsession with `danger' was how Ned put it.  He always wanted me
to stay away from trouble, but being a detective is what I always wanted. 
After your fall, Grey contacted me - I guess Joe made himself unavailable
and they needed someone like you guys.  And you know how that goes,"
Nancy made designs in the dirt with her toe, "you tend to get secretive,
because you're afraid something will slip."  Frank nodded.  He knew just
what she was talking about.  "Things went really downhill with Ned after
that.  But somehow, I kept thinking he'd come around.  I never thought
he'd pull the plug.  I still haven't gotten over it, I guess."  She
squeezed his hand then stood and went to the tent door.  "Thanks for
listening."

      Frank smiled and shrugged.  "It was nothing.  But I wonder why Joe
never told me you and Ned had broken up."

      "He may not know.  And you know George; if you guys were outdoors
being physical, it would never enter her mind to mention it."

      "Yeah, you're probably right."  Frank stood and noticed the shirt
still bunched in one hand.  "Hang on a minute."  He quickly pulled the shirt
over his head and joined her, giving her a quick hug before he lifted the
tent flap.

***

      "Nan, over here," Frank called.  Nancy turned and waddled over to him
in the awkward squatting position they had to assume to get through the low
tunnels.  "Look," Frank continued, "pointing at some streaks that didn't
follow the pattern in the rest of the stony ground.

      "Looks like rust." Nancy murmured.  "Like something metal was
dragged."

      "I'm glad you said it first," Frank replied, struggling to get the
spectroscope out of his pack.  He had found he could wear it on his back
as long as it was evenly and lightly loaded.

      Joe squirmed towards them on his stomach.  "Find something?  You two
look like toads, hunched over like that.  It's much easier this way."  He
stopped abruptly, suddenly realizing his brother could not pull himself
along on his chest.  And Nancy certainly wasn't built for it either.

      However, Frank was neither angry nor hurt.  He simply remarked, "Yeah,
and Mom's going to love getting your clothes clean when we get back."

      "I do my own wash now!" Joe retorted, then repeated, "Did you guys
find something?"

      "Maybe," Frank replied, focusing the spectroscope and slowly scanning
the out-of-place pattern area.  He followed that with a control scan of
the normal ground pattern.  When he was done, he pointed at the streaks,
and said, "See, here, how these streaks are headed toward where the ledge
... used to be?"  Joe ignored the stammer and nodded.  "The rest of the
ground doesn't follow that pattern."

      "Okay, so what does your spectro-gizmo do?"

      "When I process the scans back at camp tonight, it will tell us if the
chemical make-up of the scans is the same or different."

      "And if the streaks are rust, as we suspect," Nancy added.

      "Okay," Joe turned his head toward the cave's opening, hiding a
grimace. "What next: check the opening for footprints?"

      "No."  Frank's reply was too quick, his voice too harsh.  Nancy looked
up and Joe turned around.  "I assume the area was thoroughly trampled
right after the ... accident.  Besides,"  Frank continued in an
embarrassed tone, "I don't think I could handle going much closer to the
edge."

      Joe grunted his acceptance of this, but Nancy crept past them and
said, "I want to see where the rust marks lead."

      "Please be careful!" Frank called after her, then huddled against the
wall, face in hands, thoroughly ashamed of his fear.

      Joe looked from Frank to Nancy's retreating form.  He placed a
comforting hand on his brother's shoulder.  "I'll follow her to make sure
she's safe.  Will you be okay alone?"

      "Oh, yeah, just fine." Frank mumbled.  Then he shook himself and
raised his head.  "Joe, if you're going out there, will you do something for
me?"

      "Sure."

      "Poke your head over the edge, like you were examining the break. 
Stay in sight from above and below for a few minutes - just in case anyone's
watching."

      Joe shook his head, but answered, "Okay.  Little brother as target it
is."

      "Joe, I intended to do it myself, but ..." Frank trailed off and
lowered his head into his arms again.

      "Hey, I'm sorry, that was a low blow.  It's not a problem.  Part of
the plan was for us both to be visible.  So I'll take the first turn."

***

      Okay, what next?" Joe asked when he and Nancy returned.  "I all but
did a dance on what's left of the ledge."

      Frank sighed and pulled himself together.  "Okay, how about we look
over the area where I landed?"

      "Should we try to find it from here?"  Nancy asked.  "If your theory
is correct, one of these offshoot tunnels must lead directly out there."  

      No, we could be all day finding the right one.  Let's go down there
and backtrack." Frank replied.

      "If we're going the long way, we'll pass pretty close to the campsite.
How about if we stop for lunch and then continue?" Joe suggested.

      "Joe!  It's only 10:00!" Nancy burst out.

      "Yeah, well playing tunnel snake makes me hungry," Joe retorted, not
in the least abashed.

      "Let's see if George and Hiker are back when we pass the camp." Frank
suggested in a conciliatory tone.  The others agreed.

***

Chapter 6

"Frank?"  Nancy's voice roused him in the darkness of the tent.

"Mmm?"

"Shouldn't the others be back by now?" George, Joe, and Hiker had gone
into the nearest town - two hours away - for supplies and a break from
the tedium of camp life.

Frank raised himself carefully to a sitting position, his muscles
complaining about the unyielding surface he forced them to push against.
"What time is it?"

"Almost 2."

"They should be." He was silent for a moment, listening. "Do you hear
anything?"

Nancy listened.  Aside from the small noises they couldn't help making,
there was only silence.  "No," she said finally.  "Why?  Did you think
you heard something?"

Frank turned on the battery-powered lantern and shook his head.  "No,
that's just it.  There should be *some* noise.  Night birds or animals. I
think something's happened."  He rose and shivered in the cold night air.
"I'm going out to have a look."  He slipped a sweat shirt on over the T
and jeans he had slept in."

"Wait," Nancy said.  "I'll go with you. She pulled her hiking boots on
and grabbed a flashlight, then joined him just outside the door of the
tent.  Frank stood in shock, turning in a slow circle.  The black of the
night was broken in all directions by a dull orange glow.  "Oh my God,"
Nancy whispered.

"Forest fire," Frank murmured.  "Funny how it seems to surround us on all
sides. It's almost certainly taken out the road."

"You don't think the others are trapped, do you?"

"I hope not.  But we certainly are. It's just too convenient that it
seems to center on our camp."

"You don't think ..." Nancy's words were interrupted by Frank's cell
phone ringing.  Both of them jumped at the sound.

"Newblood," he answered automatically.

"Hiker here.  You two okay?"

"So far," Frank answered laconically as he watched a flare of sparks
shoot up close to the camp.

"We've got some old friends of yours here, I think," Hiker replied in the
same nonchalant tone. Both agents were aware of the dangers of speaking
over unsecured lines.  "Seems they didn't want you to risk your health
exploring the caves."

"Considerate of them," Frank remarked.

"Yeah.  Only problem is their method of persuasion.  They've pretty well
cut you off - and us from you."

"I thought that might be the case."  Frank put an arm around Nancy as she
shuddered with the realization that they were truly trapped.  "Any
suggestions?"

"Head for the highest nonflammable spot."

"That would be the top of the cliff."

"You've got it."  Hiker hesitated and Frank braced himself for more bad
news.  "You may find the going a bit rougher than you'd like.  Somehow
some very familiar climbing gear found its way into your friends' trunk.

"We'll manage," Frank assured the other agent, but his voice was suddenly
tight.

Nancy pressed closer to him and he stroked her arm soothingly.  "Frank?"
she whispered.  "I don't think we've got much time to go anywhere."

"They must have used an accelerant to be sure everything went up," Frank
muttered.  He spoke into the cell phone again.  "We've got to get moving.
I hope the Agency's budget will cover replacement camping equipment,
'cause we'll have to travel light - water and some rations, that's about
it."

"I read you," Hiker replied.  "Check in with your position hourly.  We'll
get a chopper to you as quickly as we can."

"Roger.  Newblood out."

Nancy had already moved out of the comfort of Frank's embrace and was
gathering canteens.  With a gesture to Frank, she headed to the river to
fill them.

Frank grabbed two packs and began stuffing them with foodstuffs that
could be opened and eaten while they climbed.  He filled one pack  with
dry goods then hefted it experimentally.  It was light enough for him to
manage, so he topped it with one of the rolled-up sleeping bags and put
it on.  The other pack was filled with heavier items, like jerky and
pull-top cans of beans and meats that could be eaten cold.  When Nancy
came back with the filled canteens he took two and handed her the heavier
pack.  "Sorry, to give you most of the weight," he murmured.

"Don't worry about it," Nancy replied, noting the careful balance of the
pack.  "I can handle it.  Can you manage those two canteens."

"No problem," Frank assured her.  He looked at where the top of the pack
hit her.  "But it doesn't look like you can take a sleeping bag and a
second one would overbalance me, too."

"We'll make do," Nancy said confidently.  A sudden snapping behind the
tent made them both turn.  "We'd better move."  Frank nodded and they
moved off, side by side towards the cliff face.

It took them almost an hour to get to the base of the cliff.  Frank had
called in with their location at the appointed time and been told that
smoke was keeping the rescue helicopter grounded, but that firefighting
airplanes were on their way to smother the flames.  They paused at the
base of the cliff to rest briefly and take some water.

From where they were, they could no longer see the fire and the air was
clear to the smell, but Frank looked at the sky appraisingly.  Smoke
drifted lazily toward them on the slight breeze.  "We can stay here for
now," he told Nancy, but if there's no good news at the next check-in,
we'd better start cl...climbing."  He stuttered as the requirement to
free climb up the track that had nearly killed him hit home.

"We can wait for them here, can't we?" Nancy asked sympathetically.
"Doesn't the clear air stay nearer the ground?"

"No and yes," Frank replied.  "The clear air will stay near the ground,
but so will the heat. I don't think we can create enough of a fire break
to stop from being trapped.  And because the smoke will start up above,
we need to get into the cave system and be done climbing before the smoke
gets here.  I'm hoping we'll find a way out that's beyond the perimeter
of the fire, because once we're in the caves, we'll be out of
communication with the rest of the world."

"Well, the men who did this to you must have gotten some distance away
not to be spotted," Nancy observed.

"That's what I was thinking," Frank agreed.

They sat against the cliff face and waited in silence until it was time
to check in.  The news was mixed.  The ground and air teams were making
progress against the fire, but because it had been set in a circle in the
middle of the dry grass and trees, it was spreading outwards as well as
inwards, so progress towards the trapped couple was slow.  The helicopter
couldn't reach them yet.

"Okay.  We're heading up and then in.  We'll follow the tunnels towards
the ..." Frank checked his compass, "North-northwest.  Look for us in
that direction."

"Roger.  We'll accelerate our efforts in that quadrant.  Call us when you
get clear again."

"Will do.  Newblood out."  Frank looked up at the cliff.  The opening to
the cave system seemed very far away.  He looked away, then at Nancy.
"Well, let's go," he said, shouldering his pack.

"Do you want me to lead?" Nancy asked, pausing at the easiest place to
start climbing.

Frank considered then shook his head.  "No, I don't think so.  If I'm
behind you, I might not ... I might just freeze.  Knowing you're below me
might be enough to keep me going."

Nancy nodded then grabbed him in a tight hug, made awkward by the packs
and canteens.  She kissed him quickly before stepping back.  "For luck,"
she said.

Frank nodded and tried a grin, but he knew it wasn't convincing.  "I've
got to start right now, Nan," he said suddenly, his voice tight with
barely controlled panic.  Without waiting for a response, he turned and
pushed off and up, pausing only when his questing fingers didn't
immediately find a new handhold.  He didn't come to a complete stop until
one hand found the jagged lip of the cave entrance. He pulled himself up
with both hands, vaguely aware of a tearing pain in his chest as he did
so.  He crawled into the cave proper and collapsed, unable to force
himself to turn and help Nancy up.

Nancy clambered over the edge to see Frank, prostrate, his eyes glazed
and his lips slightly blue, panting and shaking uncontrollably. She was
at his side instantly.  "Frank!  Look at me!" she commanded, recognizing
that he was going into shock.

Slowly Frank's eyes turned in Nancy's direction and he blinked.  "You're
hyperventilating," she told him, still using the commanding tone she knew
would keep his attention.  "Take deeper breaths."

"Can't." he gasped.

"Try," Nancy insisted. "Breathe in through your nose, out through your
mouth."  Frank obeyed shakily.  "That's it," Nancy encouraged.  "Keep it
up."  When the bluish tint had left his lips and the shivers had subsided
to an occasional shudder, she asked. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Frank lied.  The tearing in his chest had turned into a steady
burning pain and he knew he had at least strained a weakened chest
muscle.  But there was nothing Nancy could do about it and the pain was
bearable.  "I just ... just gave in to the panic - once I was safe."

Nancy looked doubtful.  There was a tension in Frank's expression that
didn't bespeak a fading panic attack.  "Okay, if you're sure," she said
finally.

"I'm all right," Frank insisted.  He twisted out of his pack and tried to
sit up.  He couldn't hide the grimace as the burning sensation flared in
his chest.

"Don't lie to me, Frank Hardy!" Nancy shouted.  She helped him into a
sitting position, back against the cave wall.  "What did you do?"

Frank waited until he could take regular breaths again.  "Pulled
something in my chest when I came over the lip," he said finally.  He
forestalled her rebuke by adding, "There's nothing we can do about it,
Nancy, so there's no use in worrying about it.  We have to get out of the
fire zone and back to the outside."  Tentatively he got onto his knees,
one hand against the cave wall for support.  "Actually this is better.  I
can move without pain - okay, without too much pain.  But you'll have to
take all the supplies."

"No problem."

Frank gave her a genuine grin.  "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For not making some comment like Joe would have.  You know, 'Joe Hardy,
pack mule,' or something like that."

"Someday your little brother will grow up, but it hasn't happened yet,"
Nancy agreed.  A puff of smoke blew in the cave entrance.  "I guess we'd
better get moving."

Frank nodded.  "Let me just have a sip of water first."  He drank then
added, "It's going to be slow going.  If you want to move ahead, you
could take the cell phone ..."

"We're going together, Frank," Nancy said.  "I'm not going to race ahead
and be worrying whether you've collapsed somewhere behind me."

"Okay, but you take the lead.  I'll let you know if you're moving too
fast."

They had to stop frequently for Frank to catch his breath and both
noticed he was excessively thirsty.  Nancy started to question him, but
he stopped her.  "Look, I know I'm hurt worse than I thought, but it
doesn't matter.  I'll keep moving as long as I can.  I know you won't
leave me behind, so the only way we're going to get out of here is if I
keep going."

"It's got to be worse if you're moving."

"Probably," Frank admitted.  "Are you willing to go the rest of the way
yourself and bring back help?"  Nancy shook her head.  "Right."  Frank
swallowed.  "When I can't go any farther, you'll have to do that or no
one will find either of us."

"Maybe we'll find a way out before then," Nancy said in desperation.

"Maybe," Frank agreed.  "But I want you to start preparing yourself to
leave me if you have to."

They set out again, their progress slower after each stop and the stops
coming more and more quickly.  Frank sat back against the wall and took a
swallow from the canteen as Nancy investigated a little further down the
tunnel.  He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and noted the
bloodstain that resulted.  He sighed.  He'd been tasting blood for a
while, but had hoped to be able to make it further before he had to order
Nancy to leave him.

Nancy crawled back excitedly.  "Frank!  There's a fresh breeze up ahead.
I can feel it on my face!"

Frank nodded.  "Good.  You need to follow it and get outside as fast as
you can."  He held out the cell phone.  "Better tell them to have a medic
on the chopper."

Nancy approached, her mouth open to object, when she saw the blood on
Frank's lips.  She took the phone and gently stroked his cheek.  "Don't
you leave me!" She demanded.

Frank smiled weakly.  "I wasn't planning to.  I'll hang in."

"I'll hurry."  She started off then returned and unrolled the sleeping
bag, wrapping it around Frank's body.  She took one canteen and put the
others within his reach.  Then she leaned in to kiss him again, heedless
of the blood that now stained her lips, before turning and moving as
quickly as she could towards the source of the fresh air.

***

"...And hurry!" Nancy finished describing Frank's condition and closed
the connection.  It had taken two hours to reach the opening.  Luckily,
it turned out to be on a gentle slope, well away from the fire.  She
could dimly see smoke to the south, but neither saw nor smelled any
evidence of fire nearby.  They had been out of communications range for
over eight hours, long enough for Fenton and Laura Hardy, along with her
own father, Carson Drew, to arrive on the scene.  Now help was on the
way.  She desperately wanted to return to Frank, but knew she had to stay
where she was to guide the rescue team.  'Hurry, hurry, hurry,' she sent
her thoughts towards the southeast, scanning the sky for the helicopter.

It seemed an interminable length of time before it arrived, although it
was only half an hour, longer still while the paramedics unloaded the
stretcher and medical kit.  Finally she was leading them back.

With the heavy-duty torches her markers were easy to spot and obstacles
were readily visible.  They reached Frank in just under an hour.

Frank was propped up where Nancy had left him, his head leaning against
the tunnel wall, a small rivulet of blood leaking from the corner or his
mouth.  His eyes were open but unfocused, and Nancy couldn't suppress a
cry of dismay as the torches found him.

Frank roused at the cry, slowly turning his head and managing a smile.
As the paramedics moved in, he whispered to Nancy, "Told you I'd hang
in."

    Source: geocities.com/jennylmr