Frank sat with his head against the wall, cat-napping, while Sam sat next to him flipping through a magazine.  Lulled into a semi-wakeful state by the muted noises around him, Frank was startled when Sam nudged his leg.

“Huh? What?” Frank asked, rubbing a hand across his eyes.

Sam nodded his head towards the other side of the room and Frank turned his head.  Joe was hurrying towards them, and despite the sunglasses hiding his eyes, Frank could tell he was upset.  Sitting up, Frank never took his eyes off Joe as he sat down in the vacant seat to Frank’s left.  Automatically, Frank gently put his hand on Joe’s back.

“Everything okay?  I see you found some sunglasses,” he murmured, wondering what else Joe found that got him so agitated.

“Yeah,” Joe replied, nervously bouncing his leg up and down, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.  “I saw Jeff and Carole, too.”

A look of anger passed over Frank’s face as he glanced at Sam.  Tired and distracted, it hadn’t occurred to Frank that the Cutters would probably be arriving at the hospital shortly after they did.  He wished he’d thought of it sooner and possibly saved Joe the obviously stressful encounter.

“He kept apologizing,” Joe said, staring at the floor.  “Over and over again. Said he was sorry he wasn’t watching me; sorry I got kidnapped…”

Frank gently rubbed his brother’s back, just listening, but doing a slow burn inside.  ‘Why can’t they just leave him alone?  They have to try and apologize for something that no apology in the world can fix?  Get him all upset on the off chance they might feel a little less guilty…’

“I could’ve handled it, you know?  I was kinda letting it go in one ear and out the other.  But then he mentioned… he… he said he was sorry about what happened to…to Van….” Joe choked out the words, his voice shaking.

‘Damn it!’ Frank cursed silently.  While Joe had made real progress in dealing what he’d been through, what had happened to Vanessa was something else entirely.  He doubted Joe would ever learn how to deal with that.  And it was a subject that was strictly off limits.

“I’ll go see if your Dad’s been moved to a room yet,” Sam murmured and discreetly got up, leaving the two brothers alone in the small corner of the waiting room.

While Frank thrived in his role as older brother and was usually able to steer Joe in the right direction fairly easily when he was blindsided by life, there were a few times when he knew he had to choose his words very carefully and this was one of them.  Yet the more he thought about it, the more lost he felt.  Were there any words that could help Joe now? 

Joe dropped his head and pushed the sunglasses up.  Rubbing at his eyes roughly, he leaned in towards Frank, seemingly unaware of what he was doing.  Realizing that sometimes actions spoke volumes as compared to a few clichéd words, Frank stretched his arm across Joe’s broad shoulders and pulled him the tiniest bit closer.  And they sat in silence one brother drawing the comfort he craved from another who gave it freely, getting something just as priceless in return.

It was several minutes later when Sam returned, announcing that Fenton had been moved to a room.  As they stood to follow him, Joe turned and gave Frank a long look.  No words were spoken and none were needed as Frank easily read the look in his brother’s eyes: ‘Thanks, bro.  I’m okay now.’

*****

It was several hours later, after Frank, Joe and Sam had a brief reunion with Fenton, that they finally returned to the hotel for the night.  Picking up some take-out for dinner, they ate in Sam’s room while comparing notes on what had happened in the final minutes when they’d all been separated.  After being assured by Sam that he had enough information to write up a thorough report, the brothers returned to their own room, exhausted.

As he puttered about the room, neatly gathering up his things and putting them into his duffel bag, Frank half-listened to the newscast Joe was watching.  Picking up the note pad where he’d scrawled Laura’s flight information for the next day, he was mentally calculating what time they should leave for the airport to pick her up when the newscaster’s voice filtered through.  As his words registered, Frank cringed.  He stole a glance at Joe and didn’t miss the increasing sadness that flickered in his brothers eyes.

The announcer was updating a story that had apparently been in the news for a few days.  The police had finally located and rescued two young boys, who had disappeared several days earlier.  They had been abducted by a recently paroled pedophile who had neglected to register with the local police as required by law.  Frank watched Joe as a family spokesperson read a statement saying they hoped that with time, love and counseling the boys would eventually be able to recover from the horrific incident.

Abruptly, Joe turned off the television and threw the remote on the bedside table.  Staring at the now dark screen, he shook his head. “You know, sometimes I wonder what happened to all the other kids,” he said unhappily.  He looked over at Frank, easily reading the confusion on his face.

“The kids who were rescued from Tilghman the same time I was,” Joe clarified.  “I mean, I had Mom and Dad…and you.  All those other kids…they had no one; no support; no family who loved them.  They got thrown right back into the system, the same system that let them get kidnapped in the first place.  And what about the ones who were never found at all?”

Frank didn’t say a word.  He’d honestly never thought about that before, and even if he had, he would have no answers.  Joe looked away, chewed on his bottom lip for a moment and swung his gaze back to Frank.  “The majority of child abusers were abused themselves as children.  Tilghman’s ring operated for years before Dad destroyed it.  That’s an awful lot of kids who were molested, who were never rescued…who never had a chance.” Joe stopped, hesitant to continue.

“And sometimes you wonder how many of them are repeating the cycle and abusing children themselves,” Frank finished for him.

Joe swallowed hard.  “Yeah,” he softly confirmed.

“Unfortunately, you’re probably right,” Frank said, sitting on the edge of the bed.  “Some of those kids probably did go on to repeat the cycle.  But there’s nothing any of us can do to change that now, and if you fixate on that, it’ll kill you, Joe.”

“I don’t know how to stop,” Joe responded, the words sounding to Frank like a plaintive cry for help.  “Every time I see a story like that in the news…” his voice trailed off helplessly.

Frank felt a heartbreaking sense of loss – a year ago he never would’ve had to help Joe look for the optimistic side of any situation, no matter how horrible. “How about all the kids who weren’t molested?” he suggested.  “All the kids Tlighman never got his hands on – the ones he never got a chance to abuse because he was finally in prison where he belonged.  Think of how many more kids would have been molested and sold to pedophiles if Dad hadn’t taken down his operation.”

Joe just stared at him for a moment and then shrugged tiredly.  He looked exhausted and totally drained.  “Yeah, I guess I could look at it that way,” he said, not sounding very convinced.  Frank got the impression Joe was saying it just to humor him more than anything else.

Sliding down under the covers, Joe mumbled a soft “Good night” and rolled on to his side facing the wall. 

Shaking his head sadly, Frank set the alarm on his watch so he could wake Joe in a few hours.  Noiselessly, he got up and moved to the chair by the window on the far side of the room.  Flipping open his cell phone, he dialed home.  He knew it was late there, but he needed to hear the sound of Callie’s voice.

*****

Joe was slowly drawn out of his restless sleep by a soft voice.  The speaker was purposely talking very quietly as though he didn’t want to be heard.  It was Frank, he realized, talking to Callie on the phone and keeping his voice down so as not to wake Joe.  Still in that hazy place where he was only half awake, Joe listened to his brother’s end of the conversation.

“Yeah, Dad has to stay in the hospital for a few days, but the doctor said he should be fine.  Mom will be here in the morning….I’m not sure, maybe tomorrow night.  Joe and I have to give our statements tomorrow, and we want to make sure Mom is settled in at the hotel, but I want to get home as soon as possible.  I’m not sure how many more close encounters with the Cutters Joe can take.”

Joe opened his eyes and stared at the wall, the dim light from the desk lamp throwing strangely-shaped shadows on the wall.  He heard Frank sigh softly and knew he was running a hand through his hair, without even looking.

“I know, Cal, but I can see he’s suffering and there’s not a damn thing I can do to help him!  It seems like no matter which way he turns, there’s always going to be something that reminds him of Tilghman.  I know there’s nothing even remotely positive about what happened to Joe, but he’s gotten through every horrible thing in his life by focusing on something constructive he could take out of it.  You know, like there was a little piece of him that stayed hopeful, somehow, no matter what happened; he refused to let the darkness drown him.  God, I miss that part of him… 

“Even when Iola died he used it to help fuel his passion for fighting terrorism and getting justice and it saved his sanity.   I just wish he could find something – anything – in this that he could turn into something positive….If he can’t, and Tilghman killed that spark of optimism…damn, then he really did win.”

Joe felt his eyes widen as he listened to Frank.  He’d had no idea that his own battles with depression affected his brother to such a severe extent!  Trying to absorb this new revelation, Joe didn’t realize Frank had finished his conversation and crawled into bed until the room was dark, save for the occasional shaft of moonlight shining in through the window.  Yet as tired as he was, Joe found he couldn’t easily fall asleep; he kept hearing Frank’s voice,  “How about all the kids who weren’t molested?”

It wasn’t long before Sam Radley’s words echoed an accompaniment: “Then along comes your dad.  He exposes the ring and basically tears it to pieces, saving God knows how many kids from being sold into what amounts to sexual slavery.” 

As Joe stared at the wall, the similarities became clear.  Did he finally have the answer he needed to banish the depression and haunting memories for good?  Had he been the victim so Fenton would find him and break up the child pornography ring for good?  What was it Frank had said to Callie…

“I just wish he could find something – anything – in this that he could turn into something positive….God, I miss that part of him…”

‘I miss that part of me, too,’ Joe thought a little sadly.  He wondered about this new revelation, thinking it couldn’t possibly be that simple.  And wasn’t it a little too cliché anyway – having some major epiphany that solved all his problems? 

Hoping the darkness that had once again taken up residence in his soul wouldn’t completely obliterate this new idea before it had a chance to take root, Joe tried to focus on this new, more encouraging view of things, knowing the nightmares that awaited if he couldn’t.