"Frank? Frank are you all right?" Her voice was gentle, but filled with concern.

Frank felt her hands cover his on the steering wheel and thought, fleetingly, how soft and small they were compared to his.

"Did-did we… hit him?" Callie stuttered.

"I don’t know," Frank whispered. He hadn’t felt any impact at all, at least not that he remembered. Still, he was afraid to move; afraid to find out he’d killed his own brother.

He felt Callie move away from him and heard the door open, the soft gravel of the shoulder crunching under her feet. The seconds clicked by agonizingly slowly. Why wasn’t she screaming or crying? She must have found Joe’s body by now. The silence felt as if it were killing him when suddenly Frank heard a loud gasp and then Callie calling out to him frantically.

"Frank! Hurry!"

The urgency in her voice struck deep in his soul and Frank practically flew out of the car. ‘Please, please, please let him be okay!’ Running to the front of the car, Frank dreaded what he would see. Skidding to a stop, he stared in disbelief.

Still blindfolded and with his hands tied, Joe was struggling to get up. Callie was squatting behind Joe with her hands under his arms, trying to help him to a standing position without much success. Petite as she was, Callie was having a difficult time of it. While Joe hadn’t completely filled out yet, he had put on quite a bit of muscle over the summer months. With his emotions turned upside down at the thought he had killed Joe, Frank had a strange urge to laugh at the surreal scene before him. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be in shock.

"Frank," Callie’s voice was strained and hard to hear, but it came through loud enough to snap Frank out of his daze.

He rushed forward and leaned down, gently helping Joe to his feet. He then eased Joe to a spot leaning against the hood of the car. Frank removed the blindfold from Joe’s eyes and looked at him closely. He winced realizing Joe was already so battered from the seemingly endless abuse by Steven and his buddies that he couldn’t tell if any of Joe’s cuts and bruises were from the near impact with the car.

"Are-are you okay? Did I hit you?" he asked his voice shaky.

Joe looked at him, dazed, and blinked owlishly at the glare of the headlights. Shaking his head in response, Joe held his arms out – a silent request for Frank to untie his hands.

As the shock wore off and the adrenaline rush subsided, Frank’s absolute fear at thinking he’d killed Joe turned to white hot anger. Pulling the last of the ropes from Joe’s wrists, he threw them on the ground.

"How could you do something so stupid?! I told you! I told you Steven wouldn’t be alone but did you listen? NO! You just charged ahead, insisting on doing everything your own way! No planning, no strategy, just jump in with both feet and hope for the best!" Frank could feel himself losing control and didn’t know how to stop it. It was Steven he was livid with, but since the quarterback wasn’t there to receive Frank’s wrath, he turned it on the next best person – Joe. Frank took a deep breath, just getting warmed up, intent on giving Joe the lecture of his life. As he was about to continue, he felt Callie’s hand on his arm.

Looking at her, Frank saw she was peering at Joe closely. "Frank," she said quietly, "I think he’s hurt."

Quickly looking back at his brother, Frank now saw Joe was rather pale, leaning heavily against the car with one arm wrapped protectively around his ribs. His anger forgotten, Frank moved closer to Joe.

"Here, let me see," he murmured, reaching out to move Joe’s arm. Fully expecting a fight, he was surprised when Joe meekly complied. Lifting Joe’s shirt, he saw several ugly bruises beginning to appear on Joe’s side. "Why didn’t you say something?" Frank reprimanded, wincing in sympathy.

"Couldn’t get a word in edgewise," Joe grumbled.

Frank heard Callie giggle softly and felt his face grow hot. He was thankful for the darkness so she couldn’t see his embarrassment.

"Yeah, that would be a first," Frank muttered dropping Joe’s shirt. Taking his arm, Frank gently led Joe towards the back seat of the car. "Come on, get in. We need to get you checked out and make sure nothing’s broken."

Callie had rushed forward and opened the door for Joe. She now held it expectantly but Joe stopped short of getting in the car. Carefully he reached into his jeans pocket, grimacing when his ribs throbbed at the slight movement. Pulling out the small recording device, Joe examined it for any sign of damage. Satisfied it came out of the ordeal none the worse for wear, he clutched it tightly. Wincing, Joe gingerly slid into the backseat. Frank leaned in to fasten his seatbelt and was mildly surprised when Joe never once protested being "treated like a baby".

Getting into the driver’s seat, Frank’s hand hovered over the keys in the ignition. He hesitated and then turned and looked at his brother. Joe’s head was resting against the seatback, his eyes were closed and one arm was resting protectively across his ribs.

"Joe?" he said, beginning to worry. Joe wasn’t acting at all like himself.

"Geez, even my hair hurts," Joe muttered, easing Frank’s mind somewhat.

Frank grinned at Callie, seated next to him and mouthed a silent thank you. Turning the car on he headed back into town, frequently watching his younger brother in the rearview mirror.

"Joe, are you sure I didn’t hit you?" he asked apprehensively.

"Yeah, I’m sure. I kinda fell backwards, trying to get out of the way," Joe replied.

"So what happened?" Callie asked, her curiosity apparently getting the best of her.

Frank checked the mirror again and saw Joe looking at them through half-opened eyes, grinning. "I got everything we need to stop the hazing for good."

Holding up the recorder he had removed from his pocket, Joe pressed a button. Frank and Callie listened as Steven and Jonathan’s voices filled the car. The two boys took turns proudly describing, in detail, the hazing, the beatings and the bullying. Frank thought he saw Callie shudder when talk turned to the freshman girls Steven and Jonathan had ‘welcomed’ to Bayport High.

‘Assault and battery, offensive touching, possible sexual assault… maybe even rape,’ Frank thought grimly of all the charges that could be lodged against the two boys. Glancing at his battered brother, Frank’s blood boiled. ‘You will NOT get away with this, Miller!’

*****

Thirty minutes later, Frank was sitting in a hard plastic chair at Bayport Memorial hospital. He ran a hand through his dark hair and slumped against the chair tiredly. Luckily, it was a slow night in the emergency room and Joe hadn’t had to wait long before being taken back to an exam room. Frank had completed the paperwork as best he could and phoned his parents, letting them know what had happened and assuring them Joe was not seriously hurt. They had promised to get to the hospital as quickly as possible.

Now staring blankly into space, Frank suddenly felt very drained. Joe had told them how Steven and Jonathan weren’t content just to tie him up and leave him in the field to find his own way home. No, they had to beat him up a little more and throw in a few outright threats just for good measure. While the evening hadn’t been as physically demanding for Frank as it was for his brother, it had been emotionally exhausting.

"You look tired."

Soft fingers gently pushing aside the fringe of hair that had fallen across Frank’s forehead accompanied the words. He looked to his right and smiled, having momentarily forgotten Callie was there.

"Joe’s a lucky kid having a brother like you," she observed.

Frank flushed in embarrassment and tried to deflect the praise. "I think I’m the lucky one. Joe is the only thing that’s saved me from being a total geek."

"Not true," Callie shook her head. "I’ll have you know you’re a pretty hot topic in the girls’ locker room," she smiled seductively.

"ME?!" Frank practically squeaked, stunned at the thought that any female had noticed him.

"Of course, you," Callie confirmed, leaning closer. "But I’ve already let the girls know I have dibs on you."