The smile on Joe’s face faded as he recalled finally being released and racing out to the waiting room. Upon seeing only his mother there, Joe had stopped short and stared in confusion wondering where Frank was. He was about to voice the question aloud, but caught himself in time as reality dawned on him. Not only was Frank missing so was Callie Shaw; and Joe was devastated. He’d always come first with Frank – always! How could Frank leave not knowing if Joe was okay? For a girl, no less! And not just any girl either. A girl whom Joe was certain hated him and would try to push him out of Frank’s life no matter what. Had it already started? Frank had never, ever left Joe like that before, not without seeing with his own eyes that Joe was fine.

‘Guess I’m number two now,’ Joe thought miserably.

Plodding the final few steps to his room, Joe turned on the light. Gingerly easing himself down on the bed, Joe glanced at the darkened bathroom that connected his room to Frank’s. The door was shut tight, sinking Joe that much deeper into self-pity. Frank must’ve heard Joe come in; why hadn’t he even bothered to check on Joe yet?

‘Because she’s more important to him than I am now!’ he thought bitterly, staring at the door and the sliver of light underneath it, willing it to open.

With a resigned sigh, Joe began to get ready for bed. He leaned forward to untie his sneakers and stopped immediately, grabbing his side in pain. Deciding it wasn’t worth aggravating his bruised ribs, Joe left his sneakers tied and simply forced them off his feet. He then began trying to remove his sweatshirt but no matter how slowly or gently he tried to do it, his ribs shrieked in protest.

With the throbbing at an all time high, Joe stopped moving, one arm still inside the shirt which was pulled only halfway off, completely covering his head. Feeling as if he were about to cry out of sheer frustration, Joe heard a door open and then a soft chuckle.

"Need some help?" Frank asked.

‘Sure, now you show up!’ Joe thought angrily. "No, I can do it myself!" he spat out although the words lost some of their impact being muffled by the sweatshirt. He’d gotten his other arm out and had reached up to pull the shirt off his head when a sharp pain shot through his ribs. He ceased all movement and, with a small whimper, sat dejectedly on the bed, his head still encased inside the sweatshirt.

Joe heard a few muffled footsteps and felt the shirt being gently removed. Thoroughly embarrassed, he stared down at Frank’s feet, not wanting to see his brother laughing at him. "Thanks," he mumbled, dejected.

"Anytime," Frank said quietly.

Joe heard him move away and looked up to see Frank neatly folding the sweatshirt and putting it on top of the dirty clothes hamper. He then returned to the bed and sat down next to Joe.

"How’d it go with Dad?"

"Fine," Joe replied stonily. ‘If you really cared you would’ve waited to find out at the hospital, instead of running off with her first chance you got!’

"Fine? That’s it? He didn’t go ballistic?" Frank pressed, sounding confused.

"Nope."

"Oh."

Frank fell silent for a moment. There had been a tone in that single word that Joe couldn’t place.

"So what happened at the police station?"

Joe felt the bed move slightly and realized Frank was leaning forward, trying to look him in the eyes. Joe stared straight ahead at his closed bedroom door and shrugged his shoulders indifferently.

"I told ‘em what happened, they listened to the tape, talked to Dad for a few minutes and we left," Joe stated, taking no pleasure in his victory.

Frank remained silent and Joe could feel his brother’s eyes on him, staring intently. Without a word, Frank stood and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Joe blurted out, confused.

Frank turned on him, his eyes dark and concerned. "To get Mom and Dad. You’re not acting like yourself. I think that doctor missed something."

"Oh, sure, NOW you care!" Joe lashed out, surprised at the malice in his own voice.

Frank’s eyes widened in shock and he seemed to pale slightly. "What?"

The words came pouring out in a torrent, rejection abundantly clear in every syllable. "You couldn’t even be bothered waiting to see if I was okay before you took off with her! I came out to the waiting room and you were gone!" Joe exclaimed, surprised to hear his voice quaver. "So I figured you’d be waiting for us at the police station, but you weren’t there either! When I finally did get home you sure took your sweet time coming over here to see if I was dead or alive!"

Joe’s tirade was interrupted by a knock on the door and Fenton’s muffled voice. "Everything okay in there?"

"Yeah, fine, Dad," Joe responded. He stared at his brother’s face and felt a stab of guilt at the pain he saw there. Ashamed of his outburst but not yet ready to admit it out loud, Joe waved in the general direction of Frank’s room. "Why don’t you go back there and call your girlfriend; make sure she’s okay. You care more about her than you do about me anyway…"

Joe looked away as he heard a sharp intake of breath. A tense silence hung heavy in the air, finally broken by Frank’s soft voice.

"That’s what this is all about? You think I don’t care about you anymore?"

Joe was shocked to feel his eyes burn. Thinking Frank didn’t care about him was one thing; hearing the words in Frank’s own voice was something else entirely. He swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat. "Well, it’s true," his voice quavered.

Frank sat down on the bed once again and Joe felt his brother’s hand on his back, causing the tears to surface. Joe quickly swiped at his eyes before they could spill over.

"No, it’s not true," Frank replied, his voice soft with understanding.

"But you left me the first chance you got to go off with her!"

"No, I didn’t," Frank said gently, rubbing Joe’s back. "If I wanted to do that I wouldn’t even have bothered to get out of the car at the hospital."

"But you left," Joe whispered.

"Joe, it’s a school night. I had to get Callie home before her parents started to worry."

Joe felt a strange mixture of relief and annoyance at Frank’s logical explanation.

"And I did wait. I told Callie I couldn’t leave until I knew you were all right. Dad offered to call her parents and explain so they could come pick her up, or pay for a cab, but she wanted to stay."

Joe looked up in shocked surprise.

"She wanted to make sure you were okay, too," Frank smiled. "We didn’t leave until after I saw you. And even then we waited until they came out to tell Mom and me that your x-rays were negative."

"You did?" Joe sniffed, rubbing his nose on his forearm.

"Of course I did. Joe, I would never leave not knowing if you were hurt, or how badly. Not for anyone."

"Not even… her?" Joe asked, now eying his brother warily.

"Not even for Callie." Frank couldn’t help but smile. "I hardly know her, Joe. Whatever made you think she was more important to me than you were?"

"I dunno," Joe mumbled with an embarrassed shrug. He hesitated for a second, not sure he really wanted an answer to the question that was nagging at him. "But you want to get to know her, don’t you?"

"Yes, I do," Frank replied honestly. "I like her, Joe. A lot. She’s smart and cute and confident and doesn’t think I’m a total geek."

"That’s because you’re not!" Joe blurted out, automatically defending his brother.

"I know a lot of people who’d disagree with you," Frank smiled.

"Yeah, well what do they know!"

Frank laughed and then his expression turned serious. "Would that bother you? If I got to know her better?"

Joe felt his mouth drop slightly. Was Frank implying he wouldn’t see Callie if it really bothered Joe that much? But Frank liked her – really liked her! Would Joe be so magnanimous if Frank felt threatened by Iola?

‘No,’ Joe thought, disgusted with himself. ‘And Frank wouldn’t be so selfish as to mention it even if he did!’ Watching his brother watching him, Joe finally acknowledged the pleading look in Frank’s eyes. Yes, Frank would give up his blossoming relationship with Callie if Joe forced him to choose. Yet that same look was begging Joe not to ask.

"No, it wouldn’t bother me," Joe replied with a strained smile. He thought he actually heard Frank emit a soft sigh of relief.

"Good, because I really do want to get to know her better. She’s… different."

"She’s gotta be if she likes you," Joe cracked trying to lighten the serious mood.

Frank rolled his eyes and said, "Okay, now tell me what really happened with Dad – and at the police station."

Self-pity and hurt feelings now forgotten, Joe excitedly told his brother everything, beginning with the talk he’d had with Fenton. Frank nodded knowingly when Joe told him how Fenton had helped him understand what he should have done differently and why. Joe couldn’t help but beam when relating Fenton’s words of praise.

He became more subdued as he went on to explain what had occurred at the police station. Con Riley, a friend of the Hardys’ and an officer in the Bayport Police Department had listened to the tape Joe made, taken a very detailed statement from Joe and photographed his various bruises and injuries, both old and new. He assured Joe there was enough evidence to bring some kind of charges against Steven, Jonathan and anyone else who participated in the hazing, and to bring Coach Miller in for questioning. When Fenton expressed concern for Joe’s safety at school once those involved found out what had happened, Con assured him they would be picked up prior to the start of school.

As he finished, Joe looked at his brother and saw a mixture of pride and concern. "You did good, bro," Frank smiled and patted Joe on the back. "But I still wish you would’ve let me help. Maybe you wouldn’t have gotten so beat up."

"I know and I’m sorry. But Steven threatened you!"

"I’m not afraid of Steven and his goons. And I can take care of myself."

Joe shook his head and looked at his brother dubiously, rubbing his bruised ribs gently. "They play for keeps, Frank."

"Which is exactly why you should’ve let me help!" Frank said, exasperated.

Joe felt himself turning red. "Point taken."

"Good." Frank stood and stretched, glancing at the clock on the nightstand.

"Oh, man, we have to get up in less than six hours for school!" Joe groaned loudly. "I haven’t even started my homework yet!"

"C’mon," Frank nudged him off the bed and towards his desk. "I’ll help."