Joe did not move, or respond. Frank followed his brother’s gaze and covered his mouth in shock. "That was my reaction, too," Joe remarked.

"I think they’re serious, Joe." Frank stared at the lettering, his mind racing. That phrase was a Tiger trademark and bad things always followed it. "We better get the candles before Mom sends out a search party."

Joe nodded in agreement. The brothers retrieved the candles, then returned to the others on the patio. Frank couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow those words were aimed at him. It made sense in a strange, twisted way, since the leader of the Tigers had lost his older brother. And it wasn’t the idea of someone being after him that scared Frank. It was the fact that Joe would go off the deep end if anything happened to him. Even at the age of ten, Joe had been lost without his older brother being there all the time. Frank did not even want to imagine what Joe would be like if he were dead. Frank had also caught Joe checking on him at night several times since he was released from the hospital. He found it slightly annoying, yet reassuring at the same time. Now I know how Joe feels when I do it to him! he thought.

Frank went over and over the case in New York, trying to come up with a pattern for the stalking. But his mind kept wandering to Callie as he listened to the conversation around him and watched Joe and Vanessa, and Nancy and Ned. He just couldn’t believe how much Callie had changed, yet stayed the same. It was almost as if she’d moved beyond him. Frank barely noticed when everyone finally left, and he absently went upstairs to his room.

He did notice that he was short of breath at the top of the stairs, though. And he was cold. Frank pulled on a pair of flannel pajamas, then crawled under his covers, still thinking about the case. But as hard as he tried, he just could not shake the feeling that they were after him, and that the Tigers were just warming up.

Then Joe walked in and dropped Piper on the bed. She immediately curled up on Frank’s chest and began to purr. Joe crossed his arms and glared at his brother. "That little demon of yours did it again, Frank."

"Did what again?" Frank protectively put a hand over Piper. "And she’s not a demon."

Joe snorted. "Yeah right. She shredded my pillow. AGAIN! The stuffing is all over my room. That is the fifth pillow I have lost to her since Easter! The least she could do is shred yours."

Frank ran his finger down Piper’s back and her purr deepened. "So I’ll buy you another one."

Joe sat down on the bed and snatched one of Frank’s pillows to sleep on. "What have you been trying to figure out?" Everyone had noticed that Frank was pre-occupied after returning with the candles, and Vanessa had bullied it out of Joe about the garage.

"A pattern." Frank turned his head away and coughed, then batted Joe’s hand away. "I’m fine."

Joe looked skeptically at Frank, but didn’t say anything about it. "There’s more too it than that, Frank. You don’t zone out like that when you’re looking for a problem. What gives?"

Frank was silent for a minute before answering. "I think they’re after me, Joe."

"Me too," Joe whispered. "It makes sense for him to come after you, though. But only in a very twisted way."

"He’s a very twisted person, Joe." Frank smiled. "And you have to be twisted to come after a Hardy!"

Joe returned the smile, but it faded as Frank began to cough again. Joe felt his face and frowned. "You’re running fever, Frank."

"That’s nothing new right now." Frank moved Piper off his chest onto a pillow, then rolled over and curled up. "We can talk more in the morning, Joe," he mumbled as he drifted off.

Joe spread another blanket over Frank, then went to his own room. He surveyed the mess "that little demon" had made of his bed, then gathered the pillow stuffing and threw it in the trash. He would never understand what Frank saw in that cat, but he guessed it probably had something to do with WHY he had gotten her. He’d fallen in love with the kitten when he’d been at the worst point in his first battle with leukemia. Piper had instantly taken to him one night in their neighbor’s backyard. Fenton had been unable to resist getting her for his son. But even Fenton now called her "Hurricane" Piper.

But Joe slept very little that night. He kept waking up in tune to Frank’s fits of coughing that were steadily growing worse as the night wore on. Around five in the morning Joe sat up in his bed as Frank couldn’t stop coughing. He finally went into Frank’s room and switched on the bedside light.

Joe felt his heart began to hammer in his chest as he looked at his brother. Frank was gasping for breath, and when Joe touched his face, found he was burning with fever. He knelt down and looked Frank in the eye. "I’m waking Mom and Dad. You’re getting worse."

Frank managed a nod as Joe left the room. His lungs were burning and his throat was almost raw from the coughing. When Laura announced he was going to the hospital, he didn’t argue. It took almost half an hour to get dressed, downstairs and into his dad’s big Cadillac.

Laura sat in the backseat, Frank’s head in her lap. She combed her fingers through his hair, feeling him relax. She could hear the rattle in his breathing from the infection, and she remembered a similar time during one of the worst times of his illness. He had come so close to dying that time. Fenton had refused to leave Frank’s side for three days.

Frank noticed the apprehensive look on his mother’s face. "Mom," he whispered.

Laura bent down. "Yes, sweetheart?"

"Don’t worry." He looked up at her as the car came to a stop. Fenton had broken almost every law on the books getting to the hospital. Frank clung tightly to his mother’s hand as he was rushed inside. Laura stayed with him as long as she could, then kissed his forehead when she was asked to leave. "I’ll be fine, Mom." Frank squeezed her hand one more time.

Laura went out to the waiting room and into the arms of her husband. Fenton held her tightly as her tears soaked his shirt. Joe glanced briefly at them, then back down at the carpet. He was having a hard time controlling himself. He wanted to scream and shout and break things. But at the same time he wanted to crawl into his father’s lap as he had done the first time and then cry himself into exhaustion. Unfortunately he was now too big to do that, so he just rested his head on Fenton’s shoulder when he sat down.

Fenton put his free arm around his son. "He’ll be alright, Joe," he whispered. Joe shuddered and pulled closer. He desperately wanted to believe that. But I can’t believe it until I see Frank for myself, he thought. It was several hours before that happened though. When he finally saw Frank, his tears overflowed.

Frank was now sound asleep. He lay deathly still in the bed, an oxygen mask on his face and an IV line in his arm. Laura gently stroked his hair back. Joe turned and left the room.

He stepped out into the hall, leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. He hugged his knees to his chest and buried his face in his arms, the tears now flowing freely. I can’t pretend anymore. Frank’s really sick and he could die. Joe struggled to hang onto his dream world where Frank was still healthy, but he could feel it slowly slipping away, out of his grasp. Why Frank, God? he screamed silently. But there was no answer and he sighed deeply.

Then a hand touched his shoulder and he looked up into the face of Callie Shaw. Joe stood. "What do you want?" he hissed.

Callie bit her lip and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I want to explain, Joe."

Joe felt his anger rising. "Explain what?"

"Everything." Callie looked pleadingly at Joe.

"It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?" Joe glared at her and Callie took a step back.

She knew that look well. The only other time it had been directed at her was when Frank had been in a car wreck after getting his license, and Joe had struck out in a blind rage at her, since she was the closest target. "Please, Joe."

"No. You cannot possibly explain to Frank or to me the reason for what you did to him. You hurt him, Callie! Right when he needed you! And I will not let you do it again. Now you stay away from my brother!"

Callie stared at Joe for a minute, then turned and left. Joe watched her go down the hall and get into the elevators. He unclenched his fists and took a deep breath, then went back into Frank’s room.

Laura immediately saw his red eyes and knew he’d been crying. She placed a hand on his cheek and he smiled slightly. "I want you to go home and get some sleep."

Joe shook his head. "I can’t leave him, Mom."

"He’ll understand, baby. I know you’ve been awake all night with him. Your father is going to take you home and you are going to get some sleep." She cupped his chin in her hand as he started to protest. "If Frank were awake, would he make you go home?"

Joe nodded. His mother was right, as usual. And he was tired. "OK," he agreed. "I’ll go home." He glanced over at Frank and saw that his eyes were open. Joe moved over to the bed and squeezed Frank’s hand. "I’ll be back, bro," It was Frank’s turn to nod, then Joe followed his father outside to the car. Once in the car, Joe leaned back and closed his eyes. He was suddenly exhausted.

Fenton glanced over at him. He was already half-asleep. Then Fenton noticed a black car sticking pretty close to him. It was the same car that had followed them Friday. But Fenton did no try to lose it. They obviously already knew where they lived, so he ignored the "POS", as Joe had officially dubbed it.

Upon arriving home, he led a very sleepy Joe up to his room. He put his son to bed, then tucked the covers around him. "Dad, what are you going to do?" Joe asked sleepily.

"Make some calls, take your mother some things, then go get your sister and Gertrude at the airport. Then I’ll take you back to Frank. Now go to sleep!" Fenton kissed his son’s forehead and was rewarded with a smile as Joe drifted off to sleep.

Two hours later Fenton was on his way to the airport to pick up his five-year-old daughter Ruth, and his sister. The two had taken a week long "girl trip". He entered the parking lot just as a familiar song began to play. He parked the car, then sat and really listened to the words for the first time. The chorus began to play and he closed his eyes.

Can you hear me? Am I getting through tonight? Can you see him?

Fenton sat quietly as the song played. He’d heard it many times before, as it had spent three months sitting at the top of the charts, but he’d never heard it like this, with so much emotion. The song captured exactly how he felt and a single tear slipped down his face. He quickly wiped it away.

What would I be? Living without him here? He’s so tired,

He turned the motor off when the song was over, then sat for a minute to pull himself together before heading inside the airport. He walked slowly, his mind still on the song. And on Frank.

An hour later Gertrude cornered her little brother in his office. Hands on her hips, she stared at him. Fenton squirmed uncomfortably under her sharp gaze. "What’s going on?" she demanded.

"You better sit down, Tru."

Gertrude sat down and took her brother’s hand. He only used her childhood nickname when he was upset or angry. "I’m listening, Fen." Her voice softened as she looked into a pair of brown eyes filled with pain.

"Frank’s leukemia has come out of remission, Tru. He’s in the hospital with pneumonia and the boys are being stalked by a gang." Fenton rubbed his face and turned to look out the windows. "I’d rather face a million madmen with bombs than watch Frank go through this again."

Joe stepped back and quietly closed the door. What he had to say could wait. He turned and saw Ruth standing behind him. "Why didn’t you come get me?" she demanded, her arms crossed over her chest. She tried to look angry with her brother, but she didn’t quite pull it off and Joe smiled at her.

"I was sleeping. I stayed up too late last night." He picked her up and hugged her.

"Where’s Frank and what’s wrong with Daddy?" She looked at Joe, expecting an answer.

Joe bit his lip. He had no idea what to tell her. He was saved by his father. "Frank had to go to the hospital, honey. But he’ll be OK." Fenton took his little girl from Joe and held her close.

"Uhm, Dad." Joe paused and Fenton looked at him. "There’s something I need to show you."

Fenton set Ruth down and frowned, then followed Joe outside to the garage. Joe led the way around back and Fenton’s eyes went wide with shock. Joe stood there and waited for his father to say something. Fenton finally turned his gaze to Joe. "When did this get here?"

"We found it last night. We didn’t want to say anything while everyone was here. Vanessa knows, too." Joe shoved his hands into his pocket and glanced at the graffiti. "I guess I get to repaint the garage, don’t I?"

Fenton nodded. "Mm-hmm. After you take pictures and we call Con." They went back inside where Joe retrieved the digital camera and Fenton tracked Con down.

An hour later, they returned to the hospital. On the way, Joe had to explain to his aunt why Fenton was driving the van. "Serves you right, Joseph," she told him tartly. " I honestly don’t see why your license was not suspended sooner. I hope you’ve learned something from this."

Joe smiled at Gertrude. "Yes, Auntie. I learned my lesson. I will never ‘test’ anything with Chet Morton on a road again!" As they pulled into the parking lot, he added, "We’ll do it on the farm!" He then led the way up to Frank’s room, and was pleasantly surprised to see Frank awake and sitting up.

The oxygen mask had been removed and replaced with the prongs and Frank looked almost like himself again. "I take it you’re feeling better," Joe said as he sat down in the chair his mother had just vacated.

Frank watched Laura go out on the hall to see Ruthie, then turned to Joe. "Did you show Dad the garage?" he whispered. He had coughed so much in the last eighteen hours that it hurt to talk. But he was finally beginning to feel a little better. It was really quite amazing what antibiotics could do to an infection.

Joe nodded. "Yeah. He called Con and I took lots of pictures. You’ll have to print them out when you get home. I’ve also been sentenced to repaint the entire building."

Frank smiled devilishly. "You won’t get any help from me!" Joe stuck his tongue out at Frank, then crossed his arms. Frank laughed, then began teasing Joe about what color of paint he should use.

The next day Dr. Sanders cornered the family in Frank’s room. He had done another bone marrow biopsy and was not pleased with the results. "The oral treatment is not working at all." Dr. Sanders spoke directly to Frank. "Your white cell count has almost doubled in the last ten days, more than it should have even with an infection."

"And that means what?" Fenton asked.

"It means that drastic treatment is needed before it’s too late." Bo Sanders gazed at the family. Joe was sitting on the bed, holding tightly to Frank’s hand, and Fenton and Laura looked to be in shock. "You are all aware of what that means," he asked gently.

Frank slowly nodded. It meant being sick all the time, staying exhausted, and spending entirely too much time in the hospital. "When do we start?" he asked softly.

"There will be an oncology bed available on Wednesday. I’d like to move you up there and start that afternoon."

Frank nodded again, then closed his eyes and leaned back as Dr. Sanders left. He heard his parents leave also, probably to get the details neither brother wanted to hear. Frank rested his head on Joe’s shoulder and Joe wrapped him up in a hug. "Joe," Frank whispered.

"Yeah."

"We need to tell the gang tomorrow. I don’t think I’m going to be able to hide it much longer."

"OK," Joe agreed. He felt Frank’s arms go around him and they held each other tightly. Joe could hear the rest of his world shattering in the background.

The next day, Joe rounded their friends up and Frank reluctantly informed them of what was going on. Chet, Biff, Phil, and Tony all reacted with the same feelings. Tony spoke first. "We’re not going anywhere, buddy." The others nodded in agreement.

"Thanks, guys." Frank smiled, realizing yet again that he had the greatest group of friends in the world.

"Does this mean we get to call you Baldie again?" Phil asked, his green eyes twinkling.

"Only if you will answer to Shrimp," Frank shot back.

Phil saluted with mock seriousness. "Sure thing, Baldie!"

Frank and the others laughed as "Shrimp" grinned wickedly. "This is going to be entirely too much fun!" he remarked.

Frank threw his pillow at Phil just as a nurse walked in, a long white box in her arms. She looked sternly at Frank as he took his pillow from Biff’s hands and leaned back, an innocent look on his face. She shook her head, knowing full well that the Hardy’s friends were only trying to cheer him up. "Someone sent you roses," she said as she deposited the box in Frank’s lap.

"Have you got a secret admirer, Frank?" Biff teased as his friend untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. Both Frank and Joe gasped as they looked inside at half-a-dozen long-stemmed black roses, tied together with purple and gold ribbons.

"You could say that, Biff," Frank finally managed to say. He put the lid back on and handed them to Joe. "Get rid of them."

Joe took the box, then Frank rolled over and closed his eyes. Joe motioned for the others to come with him into the hall. They gathered around Joe. "We’re being stalked," he said quietly. He then explained the situation and their history with the Tigers. "They’re pointing it more and more towards Frank every time they do something. I don’t want him to be alone." He looked at his friends. "I can count on you guys, right?"

Chet squeezed his friend’s shoulder. He knew that Joe devastated Joe would be if anything were to happen to Frank. "That’s a no-brainer, Joe."

Joe smiled tiredly. "Yeah, I guess I’m not thinking too good right now."

"We understand, Joe," Biff told him. "It’s OK for you to be upset. You should have seen me when Aaron died. I was a total mess. And I was only 8! You and Frank are a lot closer than we were."

Joe leaned against the wall, the box still in his hands. "I can’t do anything! I can’t just bust in and beat the bad guy up for him and I’m not handling that very well." He ran a hand through his blond curls and sighed, then changed the subject. "Could you guys find out what florist these came from? I don’t want to leave Frank alone any longer than I have too."

Tony took the box. "Sure thing, Joe. And don’t worry so much. He’ll be OK. And we’ll let you know where the flowers came from."

"Thanks." Joe watched his friends leave, then went back in Frank’s room and sat down. Frank was asleep again. Joe leaned back on the sofa that was under the window and watched over his brother.

Author’s note: The song Fenton heard on the radio is "He’s my Son" by Mark Schultz. The story behind the song can be found on his website, www.mark-schultz.com