Frank put his brother’s duffle bag down on the floor and then watched as Joe gingerly sat down on the bed, sighed and then stretched out, barely managing to take off his shoes before doing so.

“How’s the head?” he asked, although that wasn’t anywhere near the question he really wanted to ask. Frank wanted to grab his brother by the shoulders, shake him and demand to know how come he’d been so stupid as to try and kill himself; and what had happened to make him not turn to Frank before things became that desperate!  But he didn’t…recognizing that this was not the time- not that he would ever come on like that with the younger boy, anyway.  Right now he was just so relieved that his mother and Joe were back.

Joe reached up and touched the bandage on his forehead.  “Sore – you know how it is.”

“Yeah I do, unfortunately.”  Both boys had had their shares of concussions before.  “Any nausea?”

“A bit,” the younger boy admitted, “Sam had to pull over twice… stomach didn’t appreciate all the jostling around in the car.”   He closed his eyes and grumbled, “I really hate feeling like this!  A day-old kitten could take me right now!”

Frank smiled and sat down on the side of the bed next to his brother’s legs.  “In that case, I think we’d better put off that game of one-on-one you seemed so anxious for.”

“Brave face…you know, in front of Mom and all,” Joe admitted, cracking an eye and looking at his brother.  “She’s had enough to worry about; she doesn’t need to add me to it when I’m going to be fine…” He added miserably, “in another day or two, anyway.”

“Kiddo, I think you are the worry list,” Frank admitted, paused and then continued, “Dad told me about what happened with Gwynne.  A restraining order, eh?”

“Apparently,” Joe said dryly, opening his eyes and looking up at the ceiling.  He sighed and then looked at his brother.  “You know, sometimes it really just sucks being me!”

Frank leaned over and gave his shoulder a squeeze in sympathy.  “Oh, little brother, things like this could only happen to you…”

“Yeah… lucky me,” he gave the older boy a brief smile before closing his eyes and settling back against the bed again.  “So, how’s things been since I’ve been gone? Mom told me a bit about your excitement yesterday….As if me getting thrown from a horse wasn’t enough for you, you and dad had to go get shot at?”

The older boy gave a small chuckle as he sat back.  “Well, we thought we’d take some of the pressure off you; you’re always complaining about being smothered.”

“While I do appreciate the consideration, I think in this case you’ve both outdone yourselves…I’d really prefer NOT having Dad shot, thank you very much,” Joe commented humorlessly as he reached up and rubbed the side of his head absently, “or you, for that matter!”

That reminded Frank of something Joe didn’t know and he quipped sarcastically, “It gets better, actually.”

“Better?” Joe opened his eyes and regarded his dark-haired sibling.  “Dare I ask how?”

“Oscar Smuff shot me with a blank—”

Joe was suddenly hit with a dizzyingly strong impression of red as a coppery smell filled his head!  Bolting upwards, he scrambled past his startled brother and lurched into the bathroom, slamming the door and dropping to his knees as his stomach revolted!

Hot tears stung his cheeks as he retched, a hot knot of fear making it almost impossible to breathe.  Outside the door he could hear his brother’s worried voice but was unable to respond….

Finally, after flushing the toilet, Joe shrank back, pressed his back against the wall, drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around them.  His body shook even as he wondered what the hell was wrong with him – he had felt fear before, but nothing of this intensity!

Slowly, he forced himself to relax as the image of red faded from his mind, dragging the smell of blood with it until the teen was finally able to rise to shaky legs and move to the sink.  Turning on the water, and a little confused, he shook his head.  ‘I’m losing my mind…’ he thought and then stopped… ‘Let’s go to my secret place’ a voice whispered around him, caressing him with icy cold fingers.

“What?” Joe whipped around, his heart pounding in his chest, “Who said that?”

“Joe?”  He heard his brother’s voice from outside the door again.  “Are you okay?”  There was a palpable concern in the words but the younger boy was unable to reply.

‘Hold him’ a man’s voice growled and the boy felt himself being held so tightly he couldn’t breathe.  He panicked and tried to break away but couldn’t…they were hurting him…

A finger caressed his cheek almost lovingly as a voice filled his ear and he trembled as he heard the unconcealed excitement, ‘This is going to be fun…’ and then the screaming…

“NO!” Joe bolted for the door, threw it open and barreled right into his brother.  Frank grabbed him, throwing his arms around him as Joe sank sobbing and shaking to the ground.

“What is it?” the older boy was asking as he crouched down with his brother, his eyes wide in fear and uncomprehending. “What’s wrong, Joey?”

But Joe didn’t hear him, his mind was locked away in fear…a knife moving downwards in a deadly arc…screaming…the little boy could see the man laughing at him; relishing in his fear and pain as he tried to twist away but couldn’t…red – everything was red…

And then it was gone.

* * *

Frank was terrified.  He had no idea what was going on with his brother but he knew it wasn’t good!

Joe had almost knocked him down in his desperate flight from the bathroom, and as the older boy continued to hold onto him, he could feel the fear radiating as though it was his own.

“It’s okay, little brother, it’s okay,” he kept saying the words, trying to comfort the younger boy but it seemed as if Joe didn’t hear him.  His own heart was beating loudly, as Frank felt helpless; feeling the trembling but unable to stop it.  He wouldn’t give up though, and kept talking and hoping that the words, or even just the sound of his voice, might somehow soothe.

After what felt like an eternity, Joe just blinked and looked up at him.  “Frank?”

“Joe!”  Frank felt relief course through his body.  “Are you okay?”

“I– I dunno,” the younger boy stammered as he gave himself a slight shake and then groaned, his fingers moving to his temples, ”ooh, my head.”

“Come on,” Frank gently coaxed, standing up and pulling an unresisting Joe up with him, “lie down.”

The younger boy curled up on the bed and pulled the blankets up around his body in direct contradiction to the hot summer heat.  He was still shivering but Frank wasn’t convinced it was because he was cold.  Something had scared his brother and scared him badly.

“Kiddo?” he said softly as he crouched down by the bed and reached out to push a sweaty blond lock off Joe’s aching forehead, “What happened?”

“I dunno,” Joe repeated and then he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.  “I really don’t know, Frank!”

Frank regarded his distressed brother with a mixture of sympathy and anxiety – what was going on here?  “Get some sleep,” he said gently after a few moments, “maybe it’ll make more sense in a bit.”

“Maybe,” his brother agreed and within moments he did just that, surprising Frank at how quickly he had fallen asleep.

The older boy didn’t leave the room, though.  Instead he sat in the chair next to the bed and studied the sleeping form for a long time as he tried to make some sort of sense out of what was going on.

His mind kept going back to his father’s confession yesterday and he chewed his lip thoughtfully.  ‘Why didn't Joe ever tell me?!  He didn't even let on that he'd been in the hospital, just acted as it nothing had happened.’  No matter how hard he tried, Frank was unable to find anything in his memory that would have indicated Joe had been in any hospital – nothing at all!  When he did see the younger boy the next day, after the sleepover at Chet’s, the nine-year-old had told him how much he’d missed him and that was it….Sure, Joe had stuck around Frank a bit more closely than was usual, but considering how fresh Hero’s absence was, that hadn’t been surprising or an indication of anything to the youth.

Frank frowned as he continued to stare at his brother.

‘Nothing happened...he just went back to being himself, like Dad said, it was an immediate change.  One day he was all broody and uncommunicative but the next, he was fine…just Joe again.  Himself.  Like he just snapped out of it…but damn it, downing a bottle of sleeping pills isn't the sort of thing you’d forget!  He's lucky he didn't have brain damage!  He – brain damage....Brain damage – memory damage!  Could he have forgotten?  Is that why he didn't tell me – he didn't even remember what he did?  And once he was home, did he forget about the hospital entirely?  Is that why he's acting so – different lately?  The way he took off when the Coach showed up here – and he even locked the doors – and – and then acted like he didn't know what I was talking about when I asked him about it...’

Frank stood up and started to pace, his eyes still firmly fixed on the figure lying covered up on his bed in the sweltering heat.  His mind worked fervently to try and make some sense out of all this.

‘Somehow, this is all connected!  It has to be!  Running away from the coach and being all sullen and locking his door and then trying to kill himself....Running away from him again, now, and locking the doors again, and taking off out of Bayport – even lying to me to get away...is he starting to remember what he did, and it's scaring him?  Or is it worse – is he also remembering why he did it, and can't deal with it much better now than he did then?  Is that what happened just now? He remembered something?’  Frank’s mind was racing now.  ‘And what's behind it? Why now? Was it just Hero running away?  We never did find him – and Joe acted so strange about it... Or did something else happen that he never told us?  And then couldn't tell us, because he forgot...’ Frank suddenly stopped and all the blood drained from his face….

‘He’s looking good, though.  I haven’t seen your brother since he was what…nine or ten, I guess’… the coach glanced past him momentarily, and looked towards the stairs… ‘Invite Joe along; we can reminisce about the good old days’…‘Did your brother come?’…‘Too bad your brother couldn’t make it, though. Gone out of town, is he? I hope he’s okay. I still feel kinda bad for spooking him so badly when I showed up at your house’…‘maybe he can be there for your next game. I know I’d love a chance to see him again…and reminisce about old times’… ‘bring your brother. Tell him I won’t take no for an answer’

‘What the – ?’ Was it just him, or did Coach Iago seem a bit too concerned with Joe?

‘By the way, it was Coach Iago that I ran into at the track today!’

Joe paused briefly before pulling a t-shirt down over his muscular chest. “Oh,” was all he said.

“He asked me to be his assistant coach for the remainder of the summer, and I said yes! ... Tomorrow is my first game – you gotta come, Joe!  It’ll be great!”

Joe just stared at him and then shook his head, backing away slightly.  “I – I can’t,” he stammered.  “Sorry…I – I gotta go somewhere.”

“Oh my God,” Frank whispered, as he sank down heavily on the foot of Joe’s bed, a horrifying conclusion creeping over him, “Did it – does it have anything to do with the coach?"

He just stared at his brother, his heart racing from the possible implication.  “What the hell happened that day, little brother?  What did he do to you?  To you…and Hero?”