Someone’s crying.  Slowly 17-year-old Joe Hardy fought through the drug-filled haze of sedation, focusing on the sound. It wasn’t loud or obtrusive, but it was quiet and heart-wrenching.

He felt a strong need to comfort the distress away.

Who’s crying, he wondered as he fought to open his eyes. It was so hard. And why was his arm hurting so much? And then he remembered. He’d been shot on a botched stake-out.

Oh, he groaned softly – that would explain a couple of things. Almost immediately he felt a shift of weight on the bed next to him and then his brother’s voice, “Joe? You okay?”

“Frank?” he managed, as he was still struggling to get his eyes open and finally succeeded for a split second before they got too heavy and shut on their own again. Been drugged, Joe thought, darn hospital.

Now that he remembered being shot, he remembered snippets of other things….Being in the hospital was one.

Joe heard his brother clear his throat and then answer, “Yeah, it’s me, kiddo. How are you feeling?”

“Arm hurts,” Joe managed and he heard his brother’s soft chuckle.

“I bet it does.  Other than the arm?”

“Okay,” Joe said and then heard his brother sigh.  Something was wrong. Joe knew it immediately – something was wrong with Frank.

Forcing his eyes back open, Joe scrutinized the worried face watching him.  And he knew instantly.

It had been Frank he’d heard – his brother had been crying.

Intuitive by nature, the younger boy saw past the mask of self-control that was wavering on his older brother’s face, and then he remembered….

Frank had put a gun to the man’s head and squeezed the trigger….

Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, Joe also remembered stopping him.

“I couldn’t let you do it,” he finally whispered after a couple of long moments. It was still difficult to keep his eyes open, but Joe was determined. He needed to see his brother right now.  And not just for him…but for Frank.

Frank knew what he was saying, and looked down at his hands, embarrassed that he had lost control so badly and almost taken a life. Hardys don’t do that – Hardys were the good guys.

Joe continued as he watched his brother’s discomfort, “Thank you.”

“What?”  Frank raised his gaze to met his brother’s briefly – confused by this show of gratitude.

A small smile played across the pale face as Joe nodded, and then winced, “Yeah. Thank you for wanting to kill him for hurting me….And thank you for not doing it.”

“Joe I-“

Joe cut his brother off.  “Did you clean my closet?”

Frank shook his head and snorted softly, unprepared for that change of subject. “What is it with you and your closet?  And yeah, I did.”

Joe somehow managed to grin mischievously. A lot of it was lost against the paleness of his face, but Frank recognized it anyway. “Did you find it?”

“Find what?” Frank was now watching his brother curiously.

“Oh come on,” Joe said, trying to prop himself up. Frank started to stop him but gave up and helped him sit up. “Thanks big brother.” And then he continued, “You had to have seen it.”

“Seen what?”  Frank had no idea what his brother was talking about. Maybe Dr. Bates was wrong…maybe his brother did have a fever….

 Joe sighed – sometimes his brother just didn’t get it. “Frank…” he spoke patiently, wincing periodically as his arm was hurting some, “when you put everything back…did you have anything left over? Anything you didn’t know what to do with?”

The older boy frowned as he mentally went through his brother’s closet, and then he paused and looked at his brother strangely. “As a matter of fact I did.”  It was the small fish hook, sloppily tied, that was still on Joe’s desk. “A fish hook.”

Joe cocked his eyebrow, and Frank elaborated, “Okay, not just a fish hook. The one I busted my butt tying all those years ago.”

“Good,” Joe said, settling back against the pillows and closing his eyes, but Frank didn’t get it.

“Joe?”

“Yeah?” 

His brother looked drained, but Frank needed to know. “Why’d you ask me to clean your closet?”

“So you’d find that fish hook,” Joe said, trying to stay awake; but he still had enough sedation in his system to make that a task. “it’s yours.”

“I don’t understand,” Frank said tiredly, and Joe opened his eyes again and stared intently at his older brother. His rock. His foundation…and he saw the fissures.

Moving back as much as he could, Joe eased himself onto his good side, and then patted the empty spot in front of him. “Here.”

Frank looked dubious but Joe insisted, “You look like you’re ready to drop. Now you can either lie down here, or I’ll have to get up and make you.” He pulled the sheet back to emphasize the point.

“Okay, okay. Would you just take it easy?”  Gingerly, Frank lay down in front of his brother, being careful not to jostle him.  And then as best he could, Joe wrapped his arms around his brother in a pathetic hug. He wished he could do more, but with an injured arm, a half-assed attempt was the best he could manage.  And even that was painful.

But this was for Frank, so Joe swallowed the pain and held on.

Frank recognized and appreciated what his brother was trying to do, and he lifted his hand to hold Joe’s hand on his shoulder. 

Only when they were settled did Joe start. His voice was low and soothing.  “I wanted you to find that fish hook because I needed to remind you of something. I love you…and I couldn’t let you do that tonight. I couldn’t lose you.”

Frank felt his eyes sting as he tried to hold back the emotion. He needed to be strong for Joe.  He was the big brother – that was his job.

Joe was the one who was hurt…not him.

“Do you know why I kept that old fishing fly?”  Joe asked, and Frank just shook his head, not trusting his voice.

Joe continued, “Because it took you so much effort to make it, big brother. Things come easily to you - everything…but this one thing.  I have never seen you work so hard before for something so small…and it made me so proud.  I figured if you wouldn’t give up on something as inconsequential as a fishing fly, then you’d sure as hell never give up on anything important.”

Frank swallowed the lump but was unable to stop the hot tear that stung his cheek.

Somehow Joe seemed to know, and hugged him a bit more tightly as he continued, “It isn’t always easy to do the right thing…and trust me - you have no idea how hard it was for me to stop you today….” The younger boy swallowed hard at the memory. “But I couldn’t let you do it….I couldn’t lose you like that.  So instead, I asked you to clean my room.”

Joe paused before continuing.  “I figured it would give you something to organize…to put to order…to work through…but more importantly, I wanted to give you that hook.  Truth was, I knew it was in there somewhere….I just had no idea where.”

A small snort from his brother made Joe smile.  “But the hook is yours. I was just waiting for the proper time to give it back to you – to remind you how hard you worked for that one small fishing fly…sloppily tied.”

Frank laughed, but the laugh turned into a sob and then he broke down and cried in his brother’s arms….And Joe continued to hold him and comfort him until Frank finally fell asleep.

The younger boy knew his brother better than anyone else; and so he knew that in the morning his brother – the strong Frank – would be restored.  The mountain rebuilt; the volcano quieted until the next time…the next eruption.

And as always, Joe would be there for Frank…just as Frank was always there for him.

Closing his eyes, Joe finally gave into the drugged call of sleep, and sighed, I love my brother’s room.

* * *

In the morning, Joe could tell by the calm he saw reflected in the warm, dark brown eyes that smiled at him – Frank was back.

As his older brother apologized to him once again for taking his anger out on Joe, the younger boy sighed and said, “Look, if you really want to make it up to me, you can try cleaning out under my bed - but I’m warning you…the socks have been taking hostages!"

And a few minutes later as Frank knelt down and looked under the bed, he couldn’t help the smirk that stole across his face.  What was his Physics book doing under Joe’s bed???

The End