The doctors and nurses assured them Joe was improving although Vanessa could see no change at all. Despite the fact that she held Joe’s hand and talked to him all day long, that connection she longed for and so desperately needed was still missing. Vanessa knew that until she could look into Joe’s eyes and see him looking back at her with recognition, until she could hear his voice responding to hers, she wouldn’t be able to convince herself that Joe was really getting better.

Rolling onto her side, Vanessa pulled her long legs up, curling herself into a ball and gazed at the empty spot next to her. She reached out and touched the cold pillow.

"I miss you, Joe."

Closing her eyes, she tried to sleep, wanting to be refreshed for tomorrow. Right before they had left the hospital that evening, Dr. Marston had come in to check on Joe one more time before he went home. Checking Joe’s vital signs and studying the notations that had been made on his chart throughout the day, he had proclaimed Joe strong enough to breathe on his own. The ventilator would be removed that evening and they would start to reduce the amount of medication he was on. By the time they arrived in the morning, Joe would be out of the ICU and in a private room. The limit on the number of visitors he had was much less restrictive and Vanessa was hopeful they might allow someone to stay the night with him, at least until his condition was more stable.

Before they all left the hospital, Dr. Marston had assured them Joe would regain consciousness at some point the next day. Vanessa prayed he was right, as she didn’t know how she could get through one more day without hearing the voice she loved – and missed – so much.

*****

It was the place halfway between consciousness and darkness. Muted voices, muted thoughts, muted pain. Voices. Male voices.

‘God, what more can they do to me? Why won’t they just let me die? Please just let me die.’ Joe thought, vaguely wondering why his brother never came for him. ‘He promised. I trusted him.’

Disjointed memories made their way across Joe’s semi-conscious mind.

‘Alcohol.’ Joe shuddered, recalling the torment that finally broke him. ‘Have I told them where I hid the envelope yet?’

The jagged recollections continued as Joe realized he couldn’t have told them or he would be dead. Rashman…I’ve been ordered to kill you…a gunshot.

A knife flashing towards him. The chain in mid-air. Dad. Frank.

Listening intently through the fog in his mind, Joe heard more voices. Soft and low.

Slowly it dawned on Joe that he was no longer upright and chained to a fence, but lying down on something soft. There was a pillow beneath his head. He wasn’t cold or wet. He was still in pain but it was different now – dulled, somehow; not quite so intense. A soft hand gently grazed his forehead followed by a feather light kiss on his cheek. He moved his head slightly and moaned, trying to open his eyes.

"Joe?"

"Joe, can you hear me?"

Joe tried once more to open his eyes but his eyelids were heavy and they refused to cooperate.

"Wake up, little brother."

"Come on, Joe, open your eyes."

‘I’m trying!’ Joe thought, frantically. His eyes fluttered open for a split second and quickly shut again. He heard a flurry of movement and felt the sensation of people crowding around, hovering over him expectantly.

"It’s time to wake up, sweetie."

"You can do it, son. Open your eyes."

"Come on, Joe. Don’t keep us waiting anymore."

With what felt like a monumental effort, Joe finally opened his eyes. Straining to focus, he saw Vanessa gazing down at him, her beautiful grey eyes brimming with tears.

"Welcome back." She said softly, very gently squeezing his right hand, which was clasped in her own.

Joe managed a weak smile for his fiancée. "Don’t." He whispered, not wanting to see her cry. He winced at both the unfamiliar sound of his own scratchy, hoarse voice and a sore throat courtesy of the ventilator.

Instinctively, Joe tried to reach out with his left hand and wipe away the tears. The resulting intense pain caused him to cry out bringing on an immediate chorus of reprimands from his family.

"Please don’t try and move around, sweetie." Joe heard his mother’s voice pleading with him to remain still. "You’re still pretty banged up."

Joe looked at his mother, worry and concern marring her pretty features. He nodded slightly in agreement and was rewarded with a smile.

Looking back at Vanessa again, he squeezed her hand. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too." Vanessa replied, gently touching his cheek as she looked at their clasped hands.

Glancing at his father, who was standing next to Vanessa, Joe could see his eyes were moist. "Thanks, Dad." He said, wincing once more. "Can I have some water?"

"As soon as Dr. Marston says it’s ok." Joe heard Callie reply. "He should be here in a few minutes." She finished pointing at the call button she had pressed as soon as Joe woke up.

Joe’s gaze settled on his brother, who was standing next to Callie, staring at Joe with relief. As the two brothers looked at each other Frank said a silent prayer of thanks for Joe’s tenacity and absolute refusal to give up no matter how bad the situation got. However Joe closed his eyes, unable to hold his brother’s gaze. Worried, Frank thought Joe was hurting more than he wanted anyone to know.

"Joe, how are you feeling? Do you want me to see if the doctor can give you something stronger for the pain?" Frank asked with concern.

‘Not for this kind of pain they can’t.’ Joe thought, hating himself. "No." He replied quietly. "I’m ok."

Little did Frank know the reason Joe was unable to look him in the eye, unable to look at anyone, was the guilt that was eating away at his younger brother. It was obvious to Joe that they had never given up on him, even though in the end, he had given up on himself and on Frank.

Slowly he opened his eyes again, focusing on Vanessa. Leaning down, she kissed him softly. "I knew you’d come back to me." She whispered in his ear.

‘She believed in me! And I just wanted to die. I was ready to leave her alone! God, how could I do that to her?!’ Looking at her face as Vanessa pulled away, Joe saw her unwavering faith in him and wondered if he’d ever be able to look her in the eye again.

Watching the silent exchange, Frank realized something was very wrong and it had nothing to do with Joe’s numerous injuries. As Joe looked at him, Frank felt a knot in the pit of his stomach. Was that shame he saw in his brother’s eyes?

Everyone turned at the sound of the door opening as Dr. Marston walked into the room, a nurse right behind him. Immediately Joe’s family took several steps back allowing the doctor room to work.

"Frank…" Joe said, but his hoarse murmur was lost in the bustle of his family, the doctor and the nurse all shifting positions. ‘Frank! I need to talk to you! I have to tell you the truth!’

Joe heard Dr. Marston asking them to wait outside for a few minutes so he could examine Joe.

"No." Joe said feebly as the doctor began his examination. "I need to talk to him." Joe pleaded quietly.

"Don’t worry. They’ll be back in a few minutes." Dr. Marston reassured him.

Joe looked over and saw his brother, the last one to leave, hanging back in the doorway. Frank looked at him, concerned.

Joe squeezed his eyes shut as his brother turned and left. At that moment he hated himself for giving up on Frank, who he knew would move heaven and earth and wouldn’t stop until Joe had been found. He hated himself for his lack of faith when Frank, Vanessa – his entire family – had obviously never given up on him.

Joe had given up and hoped that Rashman would kill him and end the agony he was in. And that, Joe decided, was more painful than any of the injuries he had suffered at the hands of Keith Rashman. He had to tell Frank the truth of what happened. And more than anything, he needed Vanessa to forgive him for deserting her, at least in his mind. She had believed in him, believed he would hang on no matter what, and eventually come back to her.