Joe opened his eyes and glanced around. It took him a few moments to realize where he was. And then he remembered why.  

He was in Frank’s room.  

The younger boy hadn’t started out there. But at about 2 a.m. , when he awoke in a blind panic, sweat-drenched with his heart pounding, he needed his brother.  

Frank was his strength. He was the one constant in Joe’s life that the younger boy depended on more than anything. And he gave Joe the courage he needed when it seemed too difficult to even breathe….  

He knew it might sound cowardly, but at two o’clock in the morning, with a demon dogging his mind and a fierce burning ache in his back, Joe didn’t care. He needed his brother, so he went to his room.  

It had taken him a few minutes to calm down enough to even move, though. And then when he did, the pain in his back brought tears to his eyes as it was almost overwhelming, and reminded him of the first couple of days of his recovery after William’s attack.  

Phantom pain, Dr. Bates had called it after Laura had taken Joe to see him one morning, when the boy could hardly get out of bed.  Lucky enough for the teen, he only suffered bouts of it infrequently – but phantom pain or not, it hurt like hell!  

So it took him a bit longer to get out of bed…and then he crept as quietly as he could between the rooms.  

Joe had no idea how he knew, but Frank did, and wordlessly pulled back his comforter to allow the younger boy in.   

Frank never said anything to Joe – he didn’t have to. And as Joe settled back against his brother’s comforting presence, he hated himself for being so weak.  

But Officer Mackoff had given him a bad scare. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Joe had known the guy was a cop or that he was being arrested; but he didn’t. To him it was a stranger who had shoved a gun into his back and then taken him out of a busy bus station while Frank was only a bathroom away!  

And then to find out the cop thought he was William….  

Shuddering, Joe drew Frank’s comforter up his chin. At least his back wasn’t aching anymore….  

When they had finally gotten home, Frank escorted Joe upstairs and helped get him settled in bed after the younger boy refused Frank’s offer for him to stay in his room.  

I could have saved myself the trip, he thought to himself sarcastically, and then he glanced around.  Where’s Frank?

* * *

Frank frowned as he shaved. It didn’t bother him that Joe had come to his room – it never did. And in all honesty he had been expecting him. What bothered him was that the previous night’s fiasco had shaken his brother up enough to trigger a nightmare of this intensity.  

He hadn’t heard Joe cry out, but from how badly the younger boy had been trembling, Frank knew it had been a bad one.  

Frank cursed the officer for being so stupid, and he cursed William for looking so much like Joe. Pausing mid-shave, he remembered an incident that happened about a week after Joe got out of the hospital….  

Frank had walked into the bathroom to find a towel-clad Joe standing in front of the mirror. Joe’s injuries were healing but his back was still very raw-looking, and Frank winced involuntarily…and then he saw the look on his brother’s face. 

It scared him.  

Scared him almost as much as the razor blade that Joe held in his hand.  

“Joe?” he had said softly, and then waited for the younger boy to look at him before he continued, “What are you doing?”  

Joe had been holding the razor blade so tightly that it had cut his fingers but the boy was impervious to the pain.  He sighed resignedly and then turned back to gaze at the anguished reflection in the mirror.  

“Look at that,” he said to Frank, indicating the mirror, “and tell me. What do you see?”  

Frank looked but all he saw was his brother wearing a towel, he shrugged, “I see you.”  

Joe shook his head and then reached out with the fingers on his free hand to touch the glass, “That’s not what I see.”  

“What do you see?” Frank asked, although a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach already told him the answer.  

“I see a dangerous reflection,” the younger boy said, his voice low and weary. “I see William.”  

“Oh Joe,” Frank said softly, as he was treated to a small glimpse of the torment Joe lived with on a daily basis, as even his own reflection mocked him.  

“I don’t want that anymore,” Joe continued, “I can’t look at him anymore—” and then he moved the razor towards his face, and a horrified Frank was barely able to move quickly enough to stop him.  

“NO!” he shouted, panic booming his voice, “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Frank held Joe’s hand tightly, unable to get the razor from his brother without cutting them both.  

Joe just looked at him. He didn’t resist Frank’s grasp, but he didn’t relinquish the blade either. “I can’t do it anymore, Frank…. I just can’t…this isn’t me anymore!”  

“Oh baby,” Frank said gently, “This is not the way. Hurting yourself is never the way.”  Seeing his brother didn’t look convinced, Frank tried desperately to make Joe see the truth.  “Joe, you and William are not the same. When I look at you, I don’t see anyone or anything but you.  I don’t see William. I only see my little brother – the kid I would do anything for….  Oh kiddo,” he finished softly as he looked down at the razor, “this isn’t the way.” 

Joe’s eyes begged to believe him, but Frank could still see the doubt, and he persisted, “Look more closely at that reflection, Joe. Take a good look. Right into those baby blues – and ask yourself honestly, who do you see when you look in that mirror?”  

Joe leaned in forward and stared. For the longest time, he just stared, and then very slowly Frank saw the expression on his face begin to change.  Joe turned and looked at his brother, his eyes suspiciously bright as he whispered, “I see me. I see Joe.”  

In the reflection, he saw a warmth…a compassion – a soul – that could never be William. There was nothing kind about his twin…and that is what Joe saw in that reflection. He saw past the reflection and into the person. He saw himself.  

And then Joe looked down at the razor as if seeing it for the first time – as if only just realizing how close he had come to badly hurting himself…and he let it go with a sharp gasp.  

The sound of the razor hitting the ceramic bathroom floor tiles was deafening as Joe looked at his brother, horrified by what he almost done. And then Frank was there….  

“It’s okay kiddo….  It’s okay….”  

Frank splashed cold water on his face, surprised by how the memory had shaken him. And then straightening up, he dried his face and sighed. He hoped Mackoff’s stupidity hadn’t just undone everything he’d done that morning….  

As an afterthought, Frank took the razor blades and put them away in his room.  

He would never accept losing Joe to William; and he would certainly never accept losing Joe to himself.  

And ten minutes later, when their father looked at both him and Joe and just blurted out, “William is coming back to Bayport,”  Frank knew he’d done the right thing.  

 

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.