‘Who can blame him?’ Frank thought, bitterly.

After the final meeting with the D.A. that afternoon, Joe had barely spoken a word. He had picked at his dinner, eating almost nothing, and gone to bed early, although Frank was certain he hadn’t slept a wink. As if in confirmation of that thought, Frank heard soft footsteps as someone passed by the closed door of the bedroom. It had to be Joe. Frank waited several minutes, then carefully climbed out of bed so as not to disturb Callie.

Making his way down the hall to the living room, Frank stopped and stared, his heart aching. Joe was sitting in the dark, staring out at the breathtaking view of Chicago afforded by the floor to ceiling windows of the penthouse suite. He couldn’t even imagine what was going through his brother’s mind at that moment. Was he reliving the agonizing torture he had endured, letting Keith Rashman control his every thought and emotion? Or was he trying to forget, for just a few hours, focusing instead on the beauty that lay before him? Knowing his brother the way he did, Frank was certain it was the former and hoped he could do something to alleviate Joe’s fears even if only for a moment.

"Joe?" Frank said quietly, wincing as Joe jumped, obviously so lost in thought he hadn’t heard Frank walk into the room.

"I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?" Joe asked, glancing over his shoulder at Frank.

"No, I couldn’t sleep," Frank replied, pulling up a chair to sit beside Joe.

"Hmm. Seems to be going around," Joe commented, turning back to the view that lay before him.

Frank sat in silence, studying his brother, frustrated. He couldn’t quite make out the look on Joe’s face. It wasn’t fear, or anguish. Resignation? Had Joe given up on the outcome of the trail before it even started? In a fleeting moment of insanity, Frank wondered if it would be possible to kill Keith Rashman before the morning dawned.

Ever since Frank’s birthday four months earlier, Joe had been steadily improving, reverting back to the "real" Joe Hardy. Each day it seemed Joe was a little happier, a little more care-free, smiling, joking, laughing…

There had been a slight "blip" in Joe’s attitude when the Hardy’s found out Dennis Malick had been killed in prison, apparently an orchestrated hit by the very same organized crime family he’d worked for, although it would probably never be proven. Joe had become withdrawn that week too, when they found out why Malick had been killed. It was a long shot that a jury would find both Malick and Rashman not guilty by reason of insanity and Rashman was much more valuable to the organization than Malick could ever hope to be.

Rumor had it that Malick had been ready to cut a deal, knowing he’d be sacrificed on the stand to save Rashman. He had met with the D.A. a few times, hoping to bargain for his life. He’d been willing to testify against Rashman, if all the charges against him were dropped and he’d be put in the Witness Protection Program. That, combined with the airport security video tape, witness statements from people who saw Joe being abducted, Frank and Fenton’s testimony and especially Joe’s testimony, it would all but ensure a guilty verdict.

The D.A. had called Joe, to tell him of Malick’s offer and see how Joe would feel if they accepted it. Malick would get off, although he’d have to give up all ties to his former life, but it would save Joe days of mental anguish on the stand under cross examination. Joe had spent many hours discussing it with both Frank and Fenton, torn between justice and his own mental and emotional stability, knowing the toll testifying was going to take on him – and his family. It was very late one night when he finally decided it would probably be best for everyone involved if they accepted Malick’s offer.

Very early the next morning, Fenton had gotten a call from the D.A. Malick had been killed the previous evening, ostensibly in a prison riot, although the word behind prison walls was it had been a very carefully timed hit. Apparently, the organization knew of Malick’s plans and brought them to a screeching halt. The fact that Rashman was not even in the prison at the time, having been taken to a local hospital under heavy security, after complaining of excruciating abdominal pain, would make it even harder to prove the circumstances surrounding Malick’s death.

Joe had become a little depressed in the days that followed, having to adjust, yet again, to his life being turned upside down. However, since he and Frank had mended their once-strained relationship, Joe quickly turned to his brother for help and Frank didn’t let him down. After several difficult and emotionally draining talks with his brother, and Frank’s uncanny ability to make Joe feel secure no matter how bad things looked, Joe had seemed to snap out of his despair. Each day brought a few more smiles, one or two more jokes and an ever increasing stream of wisecracks and it appeared that Joe had risen above the storm yet again.

Until the day Fenton had gotten the call from Carlos Sanchez three weeks ago. Keith Rashman’s trial date had been set. With Malick out of the way, the defense suddenly wanted a speedy trial, and the swiftness with which everything had fallen into place to make that happen had sent Joe into a tailspin. Frank hoped he could get his brother back on an even keel, but this time it seemed no matter what Frank tried or did, nothing was working. Each day he became more upset and irritated with himself for not being able to pull Joe out of his ever, increasing depression, although he never stopped trying. And tonight would be no exception. Opening arguments were set for eight o’clock the following morning and Frank knew they would be difficult at best. Even though Joe was scheduled as the last witness to be called, he’d have to sit in the courtroom each day and listen to the testimony of all the other people involved.

Frank knew it was a calculated move, waiting until the very end of the trial to have Joe testify, as it would leave the greatest impact on the jury. But he also knew the longer Joe had to wait, the longer he had to sit and listen to everyone else describe their perception of his ordeal, the worse he would get. There was no doubt in Frank’s mind that when it came time for Joe to testify, he would have tied himself up in so many knots he might not know which way was up. Anything Frank could do to stave that off, no matter how small, would help.

"Talk to me, Joe. What are you thinking?"

Joe gave a bitter little smile and shook his head. "Trust me, Frank, you don’t want to know. It’ll shoot your little "Think positive! Keep your chin up, Joe." speech all to hell."

Frank flinched, hoping Joe didn’t notice. ‘Apparently I’ve become too predictable.’ He sighed inwardly, making some last minute adjustments to the positive thinking speech that had indeed been on the tip of his tongue.

"Okay, I won’t give you my happy little sermon. How about just some facts instead?"

The bitter smile reappeared and disappeared just as quickly, but Joe remained silent.

"There’s an overwhelming amount of evidence, Joe. And witnesses that can prove Rashman was well aware of what he was doing from the minute he followed you into the restroom. And this D.A. is good. Really good."

Joe looked down at his hands, hating himself. He knew Frank was just trying to help and he loved his brother more than Frank would ever know for that. But Joe knew all the pretty words wouldn’t work this time. He smiled again, this time with no bitterness, just an aching sadness that broke Frank’s heart.

"I’m just being realistic, Frank. The odds are in their favor. Especially with Malick dead."

"How can you say that, Joe? Are you giving up before the trial even starts?" Frank asked, fighting back the panic that was trying to ignite.

Joe had never been a quitter, not even when Rashman came dangerously close to breaking him, mentally and emotionally. There were a few times Frank was afraid Rashman might have succeeded but Joe always pulled himself together somehow, never letting Rashman win. How could he give up now when they were so close to bringing this whole horrible ordeal to an end?

"I wanted to know what I was up against, so I did my homework." The bitter smile returned for a brief second and then disappeared, replaced with the sadness that had taken over Joe’s life. "I almost wish I hadn’t."

Joe leaned forward, something on the streets below having caught his eye. He watched for a moment before settling back in the chair again. "Barning is the best defense lawyer in Chicago. One of the top ten in the entire country," Joe said, gazing at the lights in the distance. "He’s the one other lawyers would go to if they were in trouble."

‘Joe investigated Barning? On his own?’ Frank was shocked.

"Do you know what Barning’s track record is?" Joe’s voice broke into Frank’s thoughts. "How good he is?"

Frank shook his head no, feeling a little foolish that Joe had thought to check this out and he hadn’t.

"Ninety-eight percent," Joe answered his own question, sounding almost defeated. "He’s won ninety-eight percent of his cases. That’s unheard of."

"Still, Joe…" Frank began. He recalled reading all the information the D.A. and Sanchez had sent. The case against Rashman was strong. He had to make Joe see they had a good chance of winning.

Joe hadn’t even heard his brother begin speaking, now drowning in the outcome he knew was inevitable. "When the jury hears the details, sees those pictures…they’ll never want to believe a sane person could do that. They’ll be happy to let Barning convince them Rashman had no idea what he was doing." Joe turned to Frank, looking much older than he should. "Go to bed, Frank."

"Joe…"

"Goodnight, Frank." Joe gave his brother one last sad smile then got up and walked to the window, his back to Frank.