All Joe said was “you’re right Frank, a stake-out isn’t a proper place for Callie,” and I lost it.

He never got a word in edgewise.  And although it was coming from me, I was shocked by its ferocity and its capacity as I reamed my brother out…for everything.

Even for things he didn’t do!!!

If my head had done a complete 360 degree turn on my neck at that point, I don’t think either of us would have been surprised!!!!

And then I got out of the car.  Joe got out to stop me. I drew my fist back….

* * *

I wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger, but I might as well have been….

* * *

Broth·er
Function: noun
1 : male who has the same parents as another or one parent in common with another. Joe
2 : one related to another by common ties or interests. Joe
3 : one of a type similar to another. Joe

Thank you Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary…

* * *

No. I didn’t hit him.

But honest to God…it came close.

And the worst of it? Joe wasn’t going to stop me.

He never took any blocking or defensive posture. He just looked at me and said three simple little words.

Words I have said to him so many times…that maybe I need to get a card made up…. 

It’s okay, Frank.

And I ran.

* * *

Everything’s been put back in Joe’s closet.

The top shelf is organized; his clothes are hung back up; his footwear is matched and at attention; his books are back on his bookshelf; everything is put back to order.

Everything except me.

Closing the door, I’m going back to my room to wait for the doctor.

I don’t want to leave Joe alone.

And I don’t want to be alone either.

* * *

I walked about a block before I heard the gunshot.

Immediately I knew it was Joe.

Something else I can’t explain. Must be related to that damned homing device. But I can feel it in the pit of my stomach whenever something happens and it involves my brother.

I can’t remember actually getting back to the car, but when I got there, I already knew what I would find…and I was right.

Joe was not there.

Turns out, the guy we were on the lookout for, was on his way down to the warehouse when he heard my little tirade….

And after I left...he took Joe.

Dr. Bates is here.

* * *

My brother is a good fighter. He has fast reflexes and is a quick thinker. But there are some things you can’t fight against. And a gun is one of them.

The man snuck up on the car and stuck a gun in my brother’s face.

Where was I????

Walking away.

* * *

Dr. Bates asked me if I wanted a something to calm my nerves.  Imagine that!  I laughed and told him that Joe was the patient…he didn’t look too convinced.

It’s not an infection, thank goodness. But he did get overheated.

Swell, I’m really sucking at this big brother thing today.  First I get him shot and then I almost bake him.

But he’ll be okay…and that’s all that matters.  Or so I’m trying to convince myself, but deep down I’m not so sure.

If I was him, I’d be pretty mad at me.

Do you know what he did in the ambulance, on the way to the hospital?  He apologized to me!

Yeah – he apologized because he said he’d had a bad feeling all day about this whole thing…and that he should have kept his guard up!!!

That was why he was so antsy. He was worried…that something was going to happen.

And once again, my kid brother’s gut instinct struck a home run.

I wish I had known.  I wish I had taken the time to ask him what was up…but I was distracted. And look at what it almost cost me.

My baby brother apologized to me…for getting shot….

I almost killed a man….

Damn him for being so…so…so…so totally Joe.

I’m supposed to keep him from getting hurt - that’s my job.  That’s what I’m supposed to do….But where was I?

Oh yeah, I was walking away….

* * *

Maybe I should do my essay on Joe.

Hmmm….Something to think about, anyway. Lord knows he’s had enough influence on my life….

And I almost killed a man for him….That just might quality as someone who’s had the “most impact”….

Actually, I think it does.

If not for Joe, I’d be in jail right now.

And then who would take care of him?

Well, mom and dad for sure, after all he is their baby.  But it wouldn’t be the same.

It wouldn’t be me – that’s my job.

Sighing, I run my hands through my hair in exasperation. I failed him. That’s not acceptable to me.  Frank Hardy doesn’t screw up like this.

Not when it’s important…and not with Joe.

But I did…didn’t I?

I have found my subject: My little brother.

* * *

Aunt Gertrude calls me ‘an old soul’ – and I tell you tonight my soul feels weary enough to be an ancient soul.

Dr. Bates has left, but I’m still watching my brother. I don’t want to leave him right now. Whether I’m staying here for him or for me…it doesn’t matter. I just need to be here when he wakes. 

Reaching out, I touch his pale cheek – he’s still warm, but not as much as before.

* * *

When I got inside, I saw Joe with his back against a wall.

The man had the gun pressed right against his head, between his eyes, actually, and he was telling my brother that he was going to kill him.  I saw Joe’s eyes grow wide with fear and my heart stopped….

And then before I could even draw my next breath, he shot him.

I have never seen anything like that before. I watched a man shoot my brother…my kid brother…my baby brother…Joe.

Have you ever seen anyone get shot?  Well I have, but never anyone I cared about…and NEVER my brother….I felt like someone had taken a sledge hammer and drove it deep into my stomach – I feel like I’m going to be sick just thinking about it….

Oh God, I’m starting to shake….I’m losing it.

I can’t lose it now – Frank Hardy doesn’t lose it….

I’m in control….

Focus Frank, Joe needs you….

* * *

But there Joe was…leaning against a wall, holding his arm.  I had expected him to be dead – one shot through the skull…but he wasn’t.  No…this bastard had plans for him…plans that didn’t include a quick death.

I should have killed him….

Joe had been shot in the arm. Painful, but not necessarily lethal….

I swear to God I could smell the coppery blood and hear it as it ran down his fingertips and dropped to the floor. Heaven help me…I heard every precious drop….

My brother’s blood…leaking through his fingertips…down his arm…and onto the dirty warehouse floor….

I had never seen anyone hurt Joe like that before – and I lost it.

He lined up the gun to shoot my brother in his other arm and I could hear him tormenting Joe as he did - delighting in his pain…relishing in his fear.

But he never saw me.

Stupid bastard. Thought Joe was alone.

He might have been by himself…but Joe is never alone.

He never saw me coming until it was too late – as he squeezed the trigger I took him out.

No one hurts my brother.

I need a drink of water.

* * *

As I toss the little Dixie cup into the garbage can in the bathroom, I catch a glimpse of my own reflection.

Who am I? 

Staring at myself for a few long moments, I know exactly who I am.

I am the angel of death.

* * *

All I could see was my brother’s blood – and the redness obscured my vision – all I wanted to do was kill the guy who had done this to Joe.

I got his gun from his hands….Stunned him with a blow to the chin…put the gun right between his eyes and squeezed the trigger….

I am the angel of death….

And then I heard my brother’s voice:  NO! Frank…don’t!

I glanced at him….That pale face filled with so much pain…the blood trickling from between his fingers as he held them over the entry wound…the lips mouthing, No No No…and then the eyes.…

The blue eyes filled with undisguised anguish.

Anguish I could so plainly read…as if it was written down on a page.

Don’t do it Frank…don’t leave me…please don’t do this….

I love him, damn it – I wanted to do this for him….

And then I was off-course again.

Joe was my guardian angel…he saved me….

From myself.

Sitting down next to Joe, on my bed, I bury my face in my hands and cry.

Big boys don’t cry….Like hell they don’t.

I’ve lost it.

This mountain is crumbling….

I need my brother.