Frank had been able to bring Joe back to the present but he couldn’t erase the horrible memories that now haunted Joe constantly. Most of the time, Joe wished he hadn’t remembered anything at all. A few times he wished Frank had left him in that world of limbo so he wouldn’t have to face the depression and pain. A pain so bad Joe swore he could feel it deep in his soul. A line from one of his favorite songs popped into his head. 'I swear the soul gets blistered along the way…' Yes, that was exactly how he felt; like he had a blistered soul. He actually preferred to feel numb; to feel nothing at all. But they wouldn’t let him. The doctors, the nurses, his family – they all insisted that now that he had remembered, he had to talk about it.

Therapy. He even hated the word. You have to go to therapy, they told him. Yes, it would hurt. It would be difficult and painful, but in the end it would be worth it. Joe had refused. He would not go to therapy; he couldn’t. He was having trouble finding the words to tell them why, but now he would have to.

Joe had been told last night, if he didn’t agree to outpatient therapy, he would not be released. As far as he was concerned, it was blackmail. He was being held hostage. What hurt the most was that his ‘captors’ were not the doctors or the hospital but his own parents. The doctor who had been treating Joe felt he was not mentally competent to make decisions concerning his own care. Since he and Vanessa were not yet married and she was not legally his wife, that responsibility fell to his parents. The doctor had convinced Fenton and Laura that Joe should not be released until and unless he agreed to therapy.

‘Vanessa.’ Thinking of her, he almost smiled.

The only one who never tried to get him to talk. She came to see him every day, all day. She sat with him, held his hand, told him how much she loved him and missed him and couldn’t wait for him to come home. She never insisted he go to therapy or talk about what he had seen. Why couldn’t they all be like her? Why couldn’t they see how much the thought of therapy terrified him? He shivered just thinking about it. He was still afraid, very afraid of one thing – that he really hadn’t remembered everything yet.

Joe had been told that after Fenton had found him huddled on the floor in that bedroom, he had immediately taken Joe to the emergency room to be examined; to be sure he had not been abused. His eyes burned and the tears fell before he could stop them as he now remembered that examination in vivid detail. Joe had since realized that was what he had been remembering that day in the courtroom and was thankful all the memories hadn’t come flooding back right then and there.

When his father had taken him to the emergency room, the doctor had assured Fenton that Joe had not been sexually abused or molested in any way. He had been beaten, and quite badly at that, but had suffered no other physical abuse.

‘What if the doctor was wrong? What if he missed something? What if he made a mistake?’ Joe’s thoughts swirled around that horrifying possibility.

The very slim chance that the doctor had been incorrect was the sole reason Joe was so afraid of therapy. What if he had been forced to endure the same awful abuses he had seen the other children suffer through? What if he had been forced to perform the vile, disgusting acts that played themselves out in his mind over and over again? Joe was deathly afraid that he had been an unwilling participant in all of it and buried the memories so deeply they hadn’t come to the surface yet. Something that would surely change if he were to begin seeing a therapist.

Joe suddenly felt his eyelids become heavy. He struggled to keep his eyes open. With sleep, came the nightmares. The nightmares that were all the more terrifying now that he knew they were real. Unable to stay awake any longer, Joe fell into an uneasy sleep fearing he would soon awake screaming and in a cold sweat.

Vanessa had arrived the minute visiting hours started as she had done the day before and intended to do as long as Joe was here. Joe had been sleeping when she arrived forty-five minutes earlier and continued to do so now. So she pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat down to read one of the magazines she had brought to keep her occupied. Vanessa tried to come prepared for the day with things to keep busy when Joe had to leave the room for the various tests the doctors seemed to come up with on a moment's notice. She wanted to be there for Joe and hated leaving the room not wanting him to return to find her gone and be left alone with his thoughts - something she knew was not the best thing for him right now.

Vanessa was happy to see he seemed to be sleeping peacefully since she had arrived. The last few weeks he wasn't able to sleep much and when he did it wouldn't be long before the dreams started. What little sleep he did manage to get was anything but restful. Unfortunately, knowing why Joe was having the recurring nightmares did nothing to stop them.

Leaning forward, she brushed the hair out of his eyes.

'Why won't you go to therapy, Joe?' she thought sadly. She knew there had to be a reason. A very specific reason, although whatever it was, Joe was not talking.

While Vanessa never said it out loud, she had been desperately hoping he would change his mind about seeing a therapist. Ironically, Vanessa was the only one who hadn't been pushing him to begin therapy even though she was also the one who knew firsthand how much it would help. She didn't push because she knew exactly how he felt. In the first few days following the rape, she too had resisted the idea of therapy. She had wanted to forget the horrible attack ever happened, not relive every detail of it on a daily basis. When she realized she couldn't deal with the aftermath alone, she agreed to begin seeing Dr. Jennings. In fact Joe was the one who had talked her into it.

Admittedly, the first session was the hardest and she actually felt worse after that first session than she had before she went. But she kept going back and was soon amazed at the progress she was making. With Joe witnessing all the good therapy had done for her, she was a little surprised at his unflinching, adamant refusal to even consider therapy. But she was determined to support him and not push it. Joe had told her he felt as if everyone were ganging up on him about it and she wanted to make sure he felt he had at least one person on his side no matter what. Still, she knew there was more to his refusal to begin therapy than he was letting on. She hoped whatever it was would come to the surface as she knew deep inside Joe would never be able to get past this and recover on his own.

Severely depressed and absolutely refusing to talk to anyone about what had happened to him so long ago, he was not even close to the Joe they all knew and loved. Joe was insistent he could easily forget about the horrors and abuses he had suffered through at the hands of Josh Tilghman if he were just allowed to go home. Stubborn as usual, he firmly believed he did not need therapy and would not even consider it as an option. Joe insisted he just wanted to go home and forget about it so he could get on with his life.

Vanessa looked up as she heard the door open and saw Frank come in. She put a finger to her lips, indicating he should remain silent, but stood to give him a warm hug.

"Has he been asleep since you got here?" Frank whispered looking at his younger brother.

"Yes." Vanessa rasped.

"Man, you sound horrible." Frank winced.

"He thinks it's sexy." Vanessa smiled, jerking her head towards Joe's sleeping form.

"It is." Joe mumbled, surprising both Frank and Vanessa.

"Hey, Baby." Vanessa said in a low, scratchy voice. "Good morning."

Joe smiled at her, eagerly accepting a hug and a kiss from Vanessa and holding her close for a few moments. Frank smiled himself when he saw Joe smile, even though it disappeared as quickly as it had come. It seemed Joe's smiles were few and far between these days and reserved almost exclusively for Vanessa.

Not surprising, Frank thought. He was ashamed to admit there were times he was so wrapped up in worrying about Joe, he forgot it had only been a very short while ago that Vanessa had been raped, setting off this terrible chain of events. She'd been so strong since Joe had been arrested; it was easy to forget she was still in the very early stages of recovery herself. Frank admonished himself to be better about remembering that and give her more support in the future.

Frank's thoughts were interrupted when his parents came walking into the room. Laura went straight to Joe's side and kissed him. She then began the "mother checklist" as Joe called it - the same questions she asked whenever Frank or Joe was sick or injured in any way. Frank exchanged an amused glance with his father as they listened to the question and answer session that never changed.

"How are you feeling?" Laura asked, taking Joe's hand.

"Fine, Mom." Joe replied.

"You don't look fine."

"I'm fine. Really."

"Are you eating?"

"Yes, Mom. I'm eating."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

Frank stifled a laugh as he knew this would continue until Joe got so exasperated he would roll his eyes insisting he was fine, he was eating, he didn't have a fever, he wasn't dying and any other thing he could come up with to get his mother to stop hovering. Watching the two, Frank felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning he saw his father heading for the door, motioning for Frank to follow him.

"What's up, Dad?" Frank asked, standing with his father in the hall outside Joe's room.

"I want you to talk to Joe about going to therapy. Right now he thinks your mother and I are the enemy. He won't listen to a word I say. He's barely speaking to me." Fenton said, sadly. "I honestly don't understand why he's so adamantly against it - especially since he's seen all the good it's done for Vanessa."

"I'll try but for some reason he's totally against it. I’m really not sure what to say to him, Dad. I can’t really tell him I know how he feels because I don’t. I am a little surprised at his refusal to even try it, though. He knows better than anyone does how helpful it could be. He saw what it did for Vanessa. In fact, he’s the one who convinced her to go. Personally, I think Vanessa's your best bet." Frank said, doubtful he'd be able to get his brother to change his mind.

"I know she could talk him into it, but I don't want to ask her; to put her in that position. She wants to be totally supportive of Joe. I don't want to be the one responsible for causing any friction between them. Joe would really hate me then." Fenton sighed. "Plus I just don't want to put that kind of pressure on her. She's still recovering herself…something I tend to forget sometimes."

Seeing the look of despair on his father’s face made Frank realize once again, just how hard his father was taking all this. Frank had never really thought about it before, but whenever his father was down about something, he more often than not turned to Joe to cheer him up and make him forget about whatever was bothering him, at least for a little while.

‘We all do that. At least, we used to.’ Frank realized, sadly, wondering if they’d ever be able to do that again. Frank studied Fenton for a moment, and that feeling of needing to take care of his father came rushing back. Frank knew he had to at least attempt to convince Joe to give therapy a try.

"I'll talk to him, Dad. Try not to worry, everything will turn out fine." Frank replied, hoping he was right. Putting an arm around his Fenton’s shoulder, they turned and walked back into the room.

"Vanessa, I know you didn't eat before you left this morning. Why don't you let Laura and I buy you breakfast?" Fenton smiled at her.

"Gee, Dad, that was subtle." Joe said sarcastically. "Why don't you just come out and say it. Vanessa, you have to come with us so Frank can try and convince Joe to do whatever it is I just asked him to do? Let me take a wild guess…therapy, maybe?" Joe spat the word out, glaring at his father.

Joe and Fenton stared at each other, Joe with hurt and anger in his eyes and Fenton with sadness reflected in his.

"Go ahead." Joe said, squeezing Vanessa's hand, but not taking his eyes off his father. "Might as well get it over with. He won't let it drop until we do."

Vanessa kissed his cheek and silently followed Laura and Fenton out the door, leaving the two brothers alone.

"You really didn't have to be that hard on him." Frank said quietly. "He loves you, Joe. He's just trying to do what he thinks is best."

"Best?" Joe said disdainfully. "Best for who? If he really loved me he wouldn't have lied to me for the past two months about those stupid dreams. He wouldn’t have let me think I was losing my mind." He finished quietly.

Frank sighed, unsure how to respond. He had had that discussion a few times with Fenton over the past few weeks.

"That's not his area of expertise, Joe. He was just doing what the doctors told him to do."

"Forget it." Joe waved his hand at Frank, then readjusted the covers on the bed to get more comfortable "Let's just get this over with. Try and convince me I can't live without this therapy."

Frank could tell by the tone of Joe's voice this would be an uphill battle, one that he wasn't at all sure he could win. He decided to make Joe be the one who had to do the convincing. He hoped that, in the process, Joe would see he really could benefit from therapy.

"Try and convince me you can live without it." Frank countered.

Joe sat for a moment, surprised. He had not expected Frank to use that tactic.

"I can handle it myself." Joe said simply.

"Sorry, Joe, this is me you're talking to. Those ‘I can handle it on my own’ games won't work with me." Frank said calmly, but firmly.

Joe scowled at his brother, but said nothing.

"We all know you're tough, Joe, but even you're not that tough. You'll never be able to deal with this without therapy."

"Yes, I can." Joe replied. "If they would just let me go home, I can forget about it and get on with my life. I don't want this to keep dragging on and on. I don't need therapy!"

Frank sat back and studied his younger brother carefully. There was a look in his eyes that Frank couldn't quite figure out. Almost as if Joe were still deathly afraid of something.

"Joe, in therapy all you'll do is talk about what you've already remembered. They can help you accept that it happened, learn how to deal with it and then you really can get on with your life. It's not like there are going to be any more surprises. You've already remembered everything."

Joe suddenly became very subdued. Sensing he'd been correct and Joe was still afraid of something, Frank moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

"What is it, Joe? What are you so afraid of?"

Joe continued looking down, picking at a thread on the hem of the sheet. Reaching forward, Frank lifted Joe's chin so his brother had to look at him.

"Talk to me, little brother. You can tell me anything, remember?" Frank said quietly.

"What if…" Joe began, then stopped, drawing in a very shaky breath.

Looking at his brother, struggling to find the words to express his fear, Frank once again prayed Josh Tilghman would live in a fiery hell for eternity.

He remained silent, waiting for Joe to tell him what it was that still had him so terrified.

"What if I haven't remembered everything?" Joe said, his voice shaking. "What if I start therapy and find out Tilghman did the same thing to me that he did to all those other kids?"

Frank was stunned. This had never even occurred to him. Fenton had said that as soon as he found Joe, he had immediately rushed Joe to the emergency room to have him examined by a doctor. The doctor had assured Fenton that although Joe had been beaten, he had not been sexually molested in any way.

"What if there are things I still don't remember? What if they molested me too?" Joe's eyes were now huge and filled with terror at the thought that could have happened to him.

"Frank, if that really happened I don't want to remember it!" Joe sank back against the pillows as he contemplated the possibility that he too had been an unwilling participant in Tilghman's warped little world.

Frank reached out and rested a comforting hand on Joe's arm.

"Listen, Joe. When Dad found you he took you straight to the emergency room. The doctor assured him you had not been touched. Not like that."

"What if he was wrong? What if he made a mistake?"

Frank could see Joe was fixated on this possibility and wasn’t willing to give it up so easily.

"That’s highly unlikely. I’d think if it had happened, it would have been pretty obvious."

"But, it’s possible…right?"

Frank found himself stuck between a rock and a hard place. He didn’t really think it was possible the doctor who had examined Joe had made such a mistake. But he was the one who was always telling Joe nothing was impossible. If he insisted now, that there was no way Joe had been molested and the doctor just missed it, he’d be a hypocrite.

"You’re right, Joe. Anything’s possible. BUT I think it’s about a billion to one shot that the doctor missed something." Frank looked directly into Joe’s eyes. "I think you’ve remembered everything there is to remember, little brother. I doubt there will be anymore surprises for you."

Joe looked at him dubiously, not quite as sure as Frank was.

"Once." Joe replied, sullenly. "I'll go once."

Remembering what Joe had said after Vanessa's first therapy session, that she actually seemed worse than before she went, Frank shook his head no.

"Twice." He bargained.

"Once." Joe said adamantly.

Frank said nothing more, but held up his right index finger directly in front of Joe's face.

Joe's eyes went wide and he blanched staring his brother. "You wouldn't!" He said.

Frank smiled thinly at him.

"You would. That's low. Really low." Joe said, crossing his arms over his chest and sulking.

"Hey, you promised."

"I can't believe you still remember that." Joe pouted.

"Blood brothers." Frank smiled at him. "It was your idea."

"I was only seven! I was young and stupid. What did I know? You shouldn’t be allowed to hold that against me after all these years. There should be a time limit or something."

"There was a time limit - forever. Don't get mad at me just because you used yours up a few months later. And don't try and weasel out of it now, little brother."

Joe sighed. "Fine. Twice. And that's it. Then we're even."

Joe tried to be mad at his brother thinking of that summer day, sixteen years ago, but he couldn't. Joe had been playing with Chet, Biff and Tony. The three of them were bemoaning the fact that none of them had a brother as cool as Frank. Chet had then asked Joe if he would mind if the three of them became "blood brothers" with he and Frank. Joe had listened intently as Chet explained each of them would make a small prick on their fingers and take turns rubbing their fingers together, thus becoming "blood brothers".

Joe had thought it was a great idea and didn't mind sharing his brother at all. He was insistent he and Frank also had to perform the ritual with each other even though Frank had patiently explained to him they were already blood brothers. Joe wouldn't take no for an answer and even threw in an additional component just for he and Frank - they made a vow that at any point in their lives, they could ask the other to do one thing for them, that maybe they wouldn't necessarily want to do otherwise. No matter what it was, they would do it, no questions asked.

Impulsive as always, Joe had used up his favor within six months. In the years that followed, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t even remember what it was he had asked Frank to do. Frank, being Frank, never asked Joe to do anything…until now. It had been so long Joe had forgotten all about it and thought Frank had too. He couldn't believe Frank was invoking that long ago pledge now.

Seeing Joe was not at all happy with this turn of events, Frank tried to cheer him up.

"Remember Mom's face that day? I thought she was going to pass out." Frank laughed.

"I thought I was going to pass out, too." Joe smiled involuntarily at the memory. He had been so enthusiastic about becoming blood brothers with Frank, he had cut his finger much too deeply. Laura had to take him to the emergency room where he got five stitches to close the cut on his finger, and a lecture from his father upon returning home.

"Well…" Frank said, still holding up his finger.

Looking down, Joe gazed at the very small scar on his own finger, then slowly brought it up and pressed it against Frank's.

"Blood brothers." He said quietly.

"Always." Frank replied.