“Frank!” his father’s voice called after him but Frank didn’t stop. He had never felt so sick before in his life. Dropping to his knees behind some bushes, he threw up.  

It was only when he was sure he’d puked up his shoes too, that he crouched back and hugged his knees to his chest tightly.  

He had no idea how he was supposed to feel; which was probably a good thing since he had no idea how he was feeling.  

How long he sat there, Frank wasn’t sure but when he saw his father standing on the steps behind him, he finally got up and went over to stand beside him.  

Neither spoke, they just stood together.  

Fenton would have loved to have held and comforted his older son but he made no attempt. Frank hated physical contact and was not one to show his emotions openly.  

Some of that, his father knew, had to do with what had happened to him, but a lot of it had to do with his own personality.  

Even as a child, Frank had been more reserved than, and never as demonstrative as his younger son.  

Thinking of Joe made Fenton sigh and he said quietly, after a long silence, “You know, I kept praying that this would happen… that your brother would just open his eyes one day and come back to us.”  

Frank didn’t say anything and Fenton continued, “But I never dreamed it would really happen. And now that it has, I’m not so sure what to do or how I should be feeling. I’d already buried Joe a long time ago.”  

The youth stared at his father in disbelief – he knew that they were a lot alike in many ways, but it never occurred to him that his father would be feeling the same way as he did.   

Sighing, he admitted and hated himself for doing so, but it just felt right, “Dad, I stopped praying for… “He found it hard to say the name, “for Joe to wake up a long time ago.”  

Fenton was very surprised, and saddened, to hear his older son say that – the brothers have been so close… but then as he thought about it, he realized he should not have been surprised at all.  

Joe’s awakening would also reawaken some of the pain his older son had worked so hard to put behind him… particularly as they would need to question Joe about what he saw – if he even remembered. And then he was sure Joe would want to know what happened afterwards… after he had been struck by the van.  

And as if reading his mind, Frank added softly, “I don’t want him to know…” 

“Frank – “ Fenton started but his son cut him off, “No Dad, it took me a long time to make people stop looking at me like I’ve got three heads… and sometimes there are people who still do… I couldn’t handle it if Joe started doing that too. I don’t want his pity… or to watch him tip-toeing around me.” His dark eyes implored his father’s understanding, “Please.”  

Fenton exhaled loudly, but then nodded slowly, “Okay Frank if that is what you really want… “And then he added, “but I have to remind you that its Joe up there… not some distant stranger, but your 11-year old brother who just woke up in a 17 year-old body… and he’s going to want answers.”  

Frank felt sick again.  

There was no way he could go back there. And as he listened to his father telling him what Dr. Bates had told them, he felt an incredible feeling of sadness overwhelm him.  

He missed his brother dearly – it was a feeling he had forced himself to put away because it hurt to much to deal with… even more painful then his own assault, but he was terrified to just do this again…  

To open his arms and welcome his brother back.  

Joe had hurt him terribly – no not his fault, but still he had hurt him. Frank knew it was childish but he still felt betrayed by him because… because his brother didn’t wake up.  

He slept through all of Frank’s pain and nightmares… and now when the 18-year-old had finally gotten it all together, Joe had woken up.  

And Frank resented him for it. And hated himself for feeling that way.

* * *

Joe wanted Frank.  

From the moment he woke up in a stranger’s body, to parents who reminded him more of his grandparents then anything else, he wanted his brother.  

Frank was his pillar – he was the one who kept Joe’s fears at bay or comforted him after a nightmare, so right now he needed his brother desperately.  

When Frank wasn’t there, Joe had pretty much become hysterical and it was only when Dr. Bates had given him a sedative that he’d calmed down. But now, once again, he wanted his brother.  

Joe had never been more terrified in his life as he couldn’t figure out whether he was in a nightmare, or if he was the victim of aliens, who stole his real body and left him trapped in some stranger’s body – anything was possible in an 11 year old mind.  

Dr. Francis had talked to him for a long time once the sedation wore off and although Joe thought he understood… he wasn’t so sure if he believed.  

Aliens and nightmares were preferable to what the psychologist was offering – a six year coma?  

What is that, Joe wondered absently, some kind of record for the longest sleep?  

The familiar strangers, he was told, were his mom and dad. And as he saw their haggard faces, he wondered if he’d put those lines there. He was very confused and he kept staring down at the hands and arms that didn’t belong to him… but he was told were his.  

“Frank?” he asked once again, in a voice that scared him. It wasn’t too bad, but it still hurt to talk as his vocal chords and mouth were being asked to perform once again… but the voice wasn’t his.  

His father had smiled gently at him, “he’ll be here soon Joe. He went camping with Chet, Tony and Phil.”  

Joe frowned, “Who’s Phil?”  While he knew both Chet and Tony, he didn’t’ recognize the name ‘Phil.’  

“Oh that’s right, “his mother said, “Phil Cohen is Frank’s best friend. He moved here about five years ago.”  

“Oh”, Joe said suddenly not feeling very well at all. Maybe this was real, after all.  

“Are you okay?” Laura asked, her concern peaked by how pale Joe had suddenly gone.  

The teen shook his head as he fought with himself – men don’t cry… men don’t cry… but then as the 11-year old looked down at his hands, his shoulders shook… men don’t cry but little boys do.  

Laura sat on the bed and held her son as he cried. And when he’d finally settled down enough to let her go, she got up, “I’ll call home and see if Frank’s there.”  

Her heart ached for the little boy sitting in front of her.  She knew he wanted his big brother here – more then wanted, he needed him here… desperately.  And then when she had seen Frank in the hallway, her relief was boundless.  

But then Frank had taken one look at Joe and ran away.

* * *

Joe stared in shock at the retreating figure. Frank?  

No!  This was too real… way too real!  

His brother was gone. Like the mom and dad he knew, Frank had been replaced by an older stranger… a stranger who ran away from him.  

The boy started to shake, his blue eyes wide and lost looking – this couldn’t be happening…NO!!!!  

Fenton watched helplessly as Laura tried to console their younger son and he had almost gone after Frank right away. He had seen the look on Frank’s face – horror – and he wanted to make sure his older son was alright, but as Joe suddenly started screaming and then wildly thrashing, trying to break out of the nightmare, Fenton needed to stay and help restrain him.  

Finally Joe was given another sedative and was dragged back to the darkness of sleep.  

Oh my god, Fenton thought as he stepped away from his drugged son, did we pray for him to wake up just so we could keep putting him back to sleep?

* * *

Frank followed his father back up to the room and prepared himself better this time.  He just had to keep his surging emotions behind a mask of indifference and everything would be okay.  

Joe was sleeping when Frank went back in and at first he was alarmed but his mother smiled weakly, “He’s just sleeping. After you left he became hysterical and Dr. Bates had him sedated again.”  

“It wasn’t my fault”, Frank said quickly, resenting that his mother said his leaving had caused this.  He couldn’t let himself care – Joe had hurt him too badly before… it wasn’t going to happen again.  

“No, it wasn’t”, his mother said slowly, “I think him seeing a stranger instead of the brother he was expecting, did this.”  Laura carefully watched her older son as she spoke.   

Dr. Francis had spoken to her and Fenton at length, and suggested counseling for the whole family. He had said it might be a good idea as this adjustment was going to be very stressful on them all.  And watching Frank, she was beginning to think that might be a good idea.  

However as soon as she mentioned it to her older son, Frank shook his head, “Count me out. I’ve had my lifetime’s quota of counseling, thank you.”  

Neither of his parents said anything.  

After the attack, Frank had seen a psychiatrist for three years so they didn’t want to push him about this now.  

And then a movement from the bed interrupted them as Joe opened his eyes and looked at the three people in his room until finally his gaze landed and stayed on Frank.  

He sized up the 6’1 tall, dark haired, dark eyed athletic young man standing at the foot of his bed and sighed, “So much for the idea that this is all a dream.”  And then as his vibrant blue eyes locked onto Frank’s briefly before the older boy turned away, unable to hold their anguished intensity, Joe said softly, “You’ve gotten taller.”  

Frank didn’t say anything. His heart was aching but he was emotionally frozen. He knew the kid… he had recognized him the instant he had looked in him the eye. And he knew as he had known then, what Joe wanted from him.  

But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t go back there. That ‘kid’ was now a 17-year-old and Frank couldn’t give him what he needed. Not anymore.  

So instead he said, “It’s late. I’m going to go home to get some sleep.” Then doing a quick glimpse at the person in the bed, he added, “Its’ nice seeing you again.”  

And then he left.  

…its nice seeing you again…

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