Laura and Fenton were seated on the other side of Vanessa talking softly to one another. Out of the blue Frank wondered how many times his mother had sat in a hospital waiting room waiting to hear whether her husband or one of her son’s was going to survive whatever misfortune had befallen them. He suddenly had a newfound respect for his mother, who must have wanted to forbid he or Joe from ever investigating anything more than a cat stuck in a tree, yet remained silent and let them pursue what made them happy. Vaguely he wondered if he would even want his children to follow in his footsteps. As much as Callie supported him unconditionally, he had a strong feeling she would prefer their children choose a much different line of work.

Checking his watch, it seemed to Frank that Dr. Marston was taking an awfully long time to examine Joe. Just as he was about to go in search of the doctor, the man appeared in front of him and Frank did not like the look on his face.

"What’s wrong?" Frank asked, immediately getting to his feet, quickly followed by his family who almost surrounded the doctor.

"Joe’s temperature is up slightly." Dr. Marston replied, frowning. This was clearly something he wasn’t expecting to find.

"Why?" Vanessa asked, instinctively moving closer to Frank. ‘He just woke up! Please no more bad news!’

Dr. Marston seemed lost in thought for a moment, almost as if he didn’t know the answer to Vanessa’s question. "There was an awful lot of salt and dirt embedded in the burns on Joe’s arm when he arrived. We debrided and cleaned it thoroughly when he first arrived, while he was still under general anesthesia, and have been cleaning and re-bandaging it twice a day. But even if a few particles were missed, that could be enough to result in an infection."

He looked at the crestfallen faces of the Hardy’s and Vanessa and sighed inwardly. He had been thrilled to be able to give them some good news last night, and really hadn’t been expecting any complications, at least not this quickly.

"I’m afraid we’re going to have to repeat the debriding process again."

"Can’t you just give him stronger antibiotics?" Fenton asked. Sydney Greene had explained the debriding process to him a few days ago and he hated the thought of Joe having to go through it all over again, especially now that he was awake. He knew having the burns cleaned and bandaged was painful in itself and wished they had made this discovery before Joe had regained consciousness.

"I’m afraid not, Mr. Hardy. With burns, the thing that poses the highest risk for complications is infection. If we even suspect the burns on Joe’s arm could become infected, we have to act quickly and aggressively."

"When are you going to do it?" Laura asked.

"Actually we’re getting ready to do it right now. The longer we wait the higher the risk of infection. I know that’s not what you were expecting to hear and I’m sorry."

Laura smiled wanly. "It is a little discouraging. How long will the whole process take?"

"At least an hour, probably more." Dr. Marston said checking his watch. "If you want to go out and get some lunch we should be done by the time you get back. But I should warn you, Joe will be heavily medicated. Unfortunately, it’s an extremely painful process. We’ll want him to be as comfortable as possible afterwards."

Vanessa wiped away a few tears as Frank gave her a reassuring hug. "It’s just a setback, Van. He’ll bounce back, just like he always does." Frank told her trying to convince himself as much as her.

"I know." She said softly. "It’s just not fair, that’s all."

As Dr. Marston returned to Joe’s room, Fenton took charge of the small group insisting they do as the doctor had suggested and get something to eat. After a minute or so of protests, it was agreed that would be the best thing to do, if only to keep them occupied for a while. As Laura, Callie and Vanessa went to the restroom to freshen up, Frank waited with his father.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I’m going to stay here." Frank said, knowing his father would try to talk him out of it. Before Fenton could start, Frank held up a hand. "Don’t even bother trying, because I’m not leaving. I want to be here for Joe when they’re done. I know Dr. Marston said he’d be heavily medicated but who knows how long it’ll take for that to kick in. Even if I don’t serve as anything other than an annoying distraction for him…well, it’s better than nothing."

Fenton smiled at Frank, knowing wild horses couldn’t drag him away from the hospital now that he had made up his mind.

"I’ll bring you something back." Fenton said, squeezing his son’s shoulder before he exited the waiting area.

*****

Frank stood in the hall directly across from Joe’s room. He had gotten antsy sitting in the waiting area by himself and after wandering aimlessly for a little while, positioned himself in front of the closed door of Joe’s hospital room. Staring at the door, almost willing it to open, Frank almost jumped out of his skin when it actually did just that.

Dr. Marston looked only mildly surprised to see Frank hovering outside the door. Over the past week, he had noticed the way Frank stayed close to Joe, preferring to stand in the hall of the ICU when he couldn’t be in the room, instead of sitting in the waiting area. He had even walked in on Frank talking to his younger brother when Joe was still sedated and realized their relationship was much closer than most siblings. He’d had a sneaking suspicion that Frank would decline to join his family for lunch, instead choosing to wait at the hospital so he could see his brother the second Dr. Marston was finished.

"I’m confident we got everything this time so we shouldn’t have to put him through that again." Dr. Marston reassured Frank. "Although we will have to clean and re-bandage his arm twice a day. That in itself can be quite painful, especially this early in the healing process." He could see Frank was getting impatient and motioned towards the door. "You can go in and see him now if you’d like."

"Thanks." Frank replied, side stepping the doctor, anxious to get to his brother.

Walking into the room, he saw a nurse leaning over the bed, speaking to Joe in a low voice. Turning to leave she saw Frank and smiled.

"You can go over and see him now. I’ll be right back with something for the pain."

At first glance, Joe appeared to be sleeping. As Frank approached the bed, he could see Joe’s eyes weren’t merely closed, they were squeezed shut in pain. Joe was more pale than he had been earlier and a few strands of blond hair were stuck to his forehead amidst the beads of sweat. Frank bit his lip and felt his own eyes burn as he saw a lone tear slide down his brother’s cheek.

"Joe." He said softly. "I’m here."

Still, Joe didn’t open his eyes. He simply lifted his right hand slightly, reaching out for his brother. Frank gently clasped Joe’s hand and had to consciously stop himself from gasping out loud when Joe gripped it so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Frank heard the door open and the same nurse appeared next to him.

"Joe? How are you doing?" She asked. "Ok?"

Joe never spoke; he simply shook his head no, once, in response to her query.

Frank could hear a jostling of the bags of liquid held aloft on the metal stands by the bed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the tubes that funneled the much needed fluids into Joe’s arm, moving. But he kept watch over his younger brother, never taking his eyes off Joe’s face.

"I’m putting the morphine directly into your IV. You’ll feel the effects much quicker that way."

Joe gave a curt nod and clutched his brother’s hand a little tighter as another tear left a trail down his pale cheeks.

‘Morphine?’ Frank thought, stunned.

He knew the pain had to be unbearable if it could reduce his brother to tears and he was grateful for the medication that would alleviate Joe’s pain, yet at the same time he was scared for his brother. He knew that morphine was probably the strongest, most potent – and most addictive – painkiller available.

He knew that while morphine would do more than any of the other painkillers available to decrease the pain, nothing could eliminate it completely. And the longer a patient was on morphine, the greater the chance of addiction.

Frank stood and watched his brother try to cope, waiting for the medication to kick in, and felt utterly useless. He could easily tell if the pain was increasing or decreasing by the intensity of Joe’s grasp on his hand.

Shortly after the nurse had left, Frank noticed Joe’s grip had loosened considerably, to the point where he was barely holding onto Frank’s hand. Looking at his brother’s face, he saw Joe’s features had relaxed and his breathing was slow and even. He realized, thankfully, that Joe had fallen asleep.

Disentangling his hand from Joe’s, he pulled the chair up close to the bed. Sitting down, Frank reached through the bars on the guard rail and very gently laid his hand on the only uninjured part of Joe’s arm, hoping Joe would know he was still there.

Leaning his head back, Frank closed his eyes. The emotion he’d been trying to contain was fighting its way to the surface and Frank knew he was going to lose this battle. In his mind, he saw Joe’s eyes squeezed shut in pain; the few tears he couldn’t contain sliding down his cheeks; the death grip Joe had on his hand in a feeble attempt to escape the agony he was in. And Frank desperately wished he could turn the clock back and kill the man who had caused it all.

This previously unknown feeling had started to become second nature to him over the past several days and its intensity and all-consuming passion terrified him. He was scared – deathly afraid – of himself, and what he might be capable of given the right opportunity.

*****

Almost an hour later Fenton, Laura, Vanessa and Callie returned, having brought Frank something to eat. Standing so his mother and Vanessa could sit down next to Joe, he paced the room, back and forth, never taking his eyes off his younger brother. The longer he stayed there, seeing Joe virtually helpless, the more his hatred grew. Feeling as if the walls were closing in on him, Frank quietly left the room and walked down the hall to the small waiting room at the end of the corridor. He had been seated for less than a minute when his father suddenly appeared and took the seat next to him.

"Anything you want to talk about?" Fenton asked.

Frank looked at Fenton wanting very much to tell his father why he was so upset, yet not wanting to disappoint him.

"I do but… I just… I don’t want to let you down, Dad." Frank said, conflicted.

Fenton rested a hand on the back of Frank’s neck and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You could never let me down, son."

"Never say never." Frank mumbled looking at the floor.

"Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you and let me decide if you’ve ‘let me down’, hmm?"

Frank took a deep breath gathering his thoughts. "Dad, every time I see Joe so…hurting like that…God, I can’t believe I’m saying this." Frank closed his eyes for a moment then turned and faced his father. "When I go in that room and see what Rashman and Malick did to Joe I wish I had killed them when I had the chance." There. He said it.

Fenton shook his head and smiled at his son. "Do you really think I haven’t wished the same thing a few times myself?"

Frank’s eyes widened in shock. "Really?"

"We’re only human, Frank. Anger is a perfectly natural emotion. Especially after something like this. To be honest I would wonder what was wrong if you hadn’t had thoughts of revenge or retaliation. But there’s a big difference between wishing someone was dead and acting on it."

"But, Dad, sometimes it’s so overwhelming. Today after they were done and had put a new bandage on Joe’s arm – I mean they gave him morphine and even that didn’t help much. I almost had to leave the room because I couldn’t stand to see him like that. I questioned why I shot Rashman in the arm instead of in the head. I mean he was lunging at Joe with a knife. I would have been justified….right?" Frank asked, confused.

"You may have been justified – I’m sure a court of law would have seen it that way – but would you have been able to live with yourself?" Fenton replied. "You shot him in the arm and not the head because you value human life, all human life, even if he doesn’t."

Fenton pulled his son a little closer and hugged him. "There is nothing wrong with what you’re feeling, Frank. These men hurt your brother – badly. It’s perfectly normal for you to want to hurt them in return. The difference is you’re not acting on it. You haven’t taken the law into your own hands. They will pay for what they did to Joe. Believe me, I won’t rest until they do."

"So, you’re not ashamed of me? For actually wishing I had killed them?" Frank asked hesitantly.

"No, Frank. I’m not ashamed of you. In fact, I couldn’t be more proud of the way you’ve handled everything. So quit being so hard on yourself." Fenton shook his head and chuckled softly. "I don’t know which one of you is worse – you for thinking you have to be perfect or Joe for thinking he’s invincible."