Frank left the balcony and bolted inside, dropping to his knees next to the bed. He frantically looked his brother over, trying to assess the seriousness of his injuries. Joe’s hands lay limply by his side, blood still dripping slowly down the ragged flesh beneath his nails. Frank’s eyes watered as he saw the large bruises and numerous cuts and wounds dotting Joe’s torso. Fearfully he rested a gentle hand on his brother’s forehead, tentatively fingering the large gash on Joe’s head. Joe’s face was grey and for one second, Frank was terrified his brother wasn’t breathing. "Joe?"

Frank was aware of people crowding around the bed. The cops, he thought.

Someone laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Son, let the paramedics work on him."

Stubbornly Frank stayed where he was. He whispered his brother’s name again. "Joe? Joe, wake up…please…" Frank couldn’t bear to see his brother lying so still, so lifeless…Frank bit his lower lip hard as he tried to suppress the dream, the horrible dream, from breaking through the mental shields he’d lifted in his mind since the first time he saw Joe lying bloodied and unconscious on the bed. He didn’t want to think about it. But Joe looked exactly like he had in the dream when he was…No! Frank shook his head hard. Joe’s not going to die.

Someone grabbed his arm to pull him away but Frank swatted the hand away. "Joe?"

"Let them work on your brother, son," Frank heard someone say gently. Dad.

With wrenching effort, Frank got a grip on his turbulent emotions and very reluctantly took a step back to let the paramedics get through. Through misty eyes he watched as they took his vitals and prepared to take Joe to the hospital.

It was when they pushed the stretcher with Joe on it out of the hotel when he came to. Frank’s heart jumped crazily to his throat when Joe let out a low moan and he leaped to his brother’s side, holding on to the stretcher, bending over Joe as they prepared to load him into a waiting ambulance.

"Joe?" Frank called out softly.

Joe’s eyes fluttered open. "Frank…" he whispered weakly, his tired blue eyes finally resting on his brother’s face, pure relief instantly replacing the flickers of recognition. "You’re here…"

For the first time after so long, Frank felt a big smile creeping onto his face. "Yes, I’m here, Joe."

Out of the corner of his eyes, Frank could see a large crowd of people a few feet away. He didn’t have to look to know what they were looking at. Judging by the horrified gasps and cries he knew perfectly what it was. For a split second, Frank felt relieved; relieved that she was finally dead, relieved that she could do nothing to hurt anyone anymore. Especially Joe. Frank climbed into the ambulance. He wanted to be by Joe’s side no matter what.

Unfortunately only one person was allowed to accompany Joe in the ambulance. Frank stared imploringly at his father. Fenton nodded in understanding. "I’ll see you both at the hospital." Frank managed a grateful smile and turned back to Joe.

"Tessa…" A cry escaped Joe’s lips and Frank felt his heart sink at the terror he could see in his brother’s eyes. Joe had gone through a lot; and he knew it was going to take him a long time to recover.

"Shh, Joe, don’t try to talk," Frank admonished gently, cupping a hand against Joe’s head. "It’s over now. You don’t have to worry any mo-"

Joe suddenly gasped and let out a strangled cry, his face locked in a grimace as if in intense pain. He arched his back as he writhed in agony, whimpering. The paramedics looked at each other in alarm.

"Joe, what is it?" Frank asked anxiously.

"…Hurts…" That was all Joe could say. He continued to thrash about as the paramedics tried to hold him down.

"Blood pressure 60/20," a female medic said.

"What does? Tell me," Frank pleaded. "Joe!".

"Stomach," Joe gasped out, his teeth clenched tight as he tried to ride out the agony in his gut. Then he cried out again and threw his head back as the pain intensified. He felt as if someone or something was mauling his bowels, devouring his insides, eating him alive. "Frank!"

"What’s happening to him?" Frank demanded. "Can’t you do something?"

A medic was already hovered over Joe and he palpitated Joe’s abdomen, carefully avoiding the open cuts and wounds as Joe continued to moan in pain, tears escaping the corners of his eyes, his face a deathly shade of white.

"What is it? What’s wrong with my brother?" Frank spoke rapidly. He glanced at the blood pressure pump and he could see that Joe’s blood pressure was dropping dangerously low.

"Frank…" Joe croaked out and Frank’s heart stopped. Blood. Blood was trickling down the side of Joe’s mouth.

Frank fought back a cry when Joe’s eyes suddenly rolled inward and his head lolled lifelessly to one side. No, he thought numbly. This can’t be happening.

"He’s hemorrhaging. Severe internal bleeding. If we don’t get to the hospital soon, he’ll die."