‘Joe! Joe, wake up!’

Joe, his eyes tightly shut, felt himself being shaken, strong hands gripping him by the arms. He was kneeling, but the cold, hard, unforgiving earth beneath him in his dream had been replaced by a soft surface.

‘Joe! Open your eyes!’

Joe tentatively opened one eye and was so incredibly relieved to be looking straight into the very much alive and extremely concerned version of the face he had seen in his nightmare. He opened both eyes fully and drank in the comforting sight of his brother and the bedroom. He was kneeling on his own bed. His heart was still racing and his whole body was quivering with fright. Straightening up, Joe sat back on his heels and shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the remnants of the frightening dream.

Frank released his grip on Joe’s arms and sat on the edge of the bed. He was not unaccustomed to Joe experiencing nightmares, but his brother hadn’t had one of such intensity as this for a long time.

‘Want to talk about it?’ he asked Joe gently. The blonde boy rubbed at his face with his hands and shook his head. He didn’t ever want to speak of this awful dream that he’d had several times since the Winter trial. It was too personal, too real. It was of darkness and despair. It left him feeling shattered and physically ill. As his heart rate slowed further, Joe began to feel cold. Seeing his brother shiver, Frank patted the pillow.

‘Lay down,’ he suggested firmly. ‘You’re gonna get cold.’

Joe suddenly felt utterly overwhelmed with exhaustion as though he had just run a marathon, but it was clear to Frank that he was understandably hesitant to go back to sleep.

‘It’s okay,’ Frank told him softly. ‘I’ll stay here until you’ve settled. And if you can’t, I promise I’ll join you downstairs for an extra early breakfast.’

Gratefully, Joe curled up and rested his head on the pillow again, allowing Frank to cover him with the blankets.

‘Sorry I woke you,’ Joe apologized in a shaky voice as he snuggled down.

‘It’s okay,’ Frank assured him. ‘I was still awake thinking about the case anyway,’ he added, trying to distract his brother from the dream. Joe’s hand shot out from underneath the blankets and gripped Frank’s arm tightly.

‘Please. I.. I don’t want to think about the case,’ he pleaded in a whisper.

‘That’s cool,’ soothed Frank, settling himself on the edge of the bed. ‘You think about whatever you want to think about.’

He smiled reassuringly down at his brother and tentatively patted his back with his free hand. Whatever you were dreaming about, it’s certainly freaked you out, little brother, Frank thought to himself.

Eventually, soothed by the soft ticking of the clock and the comforting presence of his brother, Joe gradually closed his eyes. His breathing evened out, and his grip on Frank’s arm relaxed. Frank, however, remained wide awake, disturbed by the intensity of Joe’s dream and his reaction to Frank’s casual comment about their current case. Were the two things connected? Surely the movie they had seen with Vanessa and Callie hadn’t stirred something up! He resolved to speak further to Joe about this in the light of day. Gently placing Joe’s limp hand beneath the blankets, Frank tiptoed back to his room, leaving the lamp on and his brother sleeping peacefully.

…..

Frank arrived in the kitchen reasonably early the next morning, freshly showered and ready to start the day. He had peeked into Joe’s bedroom and had been relieved to see his brother was still deep in sleep, the bedside lamp still on. As soon as she saw Frank, Gertrude dropped four pieces of bread into the toaster.

‘Morning,’ said Frank cheerily, amazed that toast was exactly what he wanted and he hadn’t even had to say anything.

‘Morning to you,’ replied Gertrude, pecking him on the cheek. ‘Aren’t you going to torment your brother into waking up?’ Many a time she had heard the entertaining sounds of Frank mercilessly tickling Joe’s feet in an effort to raise the younger boy from his bed. Frank poured himself a glass of orange juice and sat down at the table.

‘No, I’ll let him off the hook this time,’ Frank told his aunt. ‘It’s the holidays after all.’ Gertrude sat down opposite Frank and smiled at him. He had always been so wonderfully protective of Joe.

‘I couldn’t help hearing he had an unsettled sleep last night,’ she said quietly. ‘He always was more susceptible to bad dreams than you. Does it happen a lot?’

‘You don’t miss much, do you aunty,’ chuckled Frank. ‘Yeah, Joe sure had one doozy of a bad dream last night. He has them on and off, but he hasn’t had one as bad as that for a long time. He wouldn’t tell me what it was about, and I didn’t want to push him. He was pretty shaken up. I just stayed with him until he went back to sleep.’

Gertrude reached across the table and patted her nephew’s hand.

‘You’re a good brother, Frank,’ she told him. ‘I’m surprised the two of you don’t have nightmares every night given all the experiences you’ve had. I must admit I’m a bit concerned about Joseph. He’s really only just recovered from that shoulder wound, and all of you had to go through that dreadful trial. Winston certainly does need and deserve some help, the poor man, but I really think your father should be doing the investigating while you and Joe just enjoy your holidays like normal teenagers.’

Gertrude retrieved the toast and set it down on the table. Frank sat in silence for a while, thinking about what his aunty had said. Was Joe up to this so soon after the Winter trial? He had seemed enthusiastic enough when their father had proposed they help look for Winston’s niece, but maybe that had just been a case of Joe engaging mouth before brain. It wouldn’t have been the first time!

‘I’ll talk to Joe about it today,’ Frank promised Gertrude.

‘Talk to me about what?’ asked Joe, still clad in pajamas with his hair sticking up on one side. He shuffled into the kitchen, still looking half asleep, and sank down onto the chair next to Frank.

‘About looking for Winston’s niece,’ Frank told him, deciding there was no time like the present.

‘What about it?’ asked Joe, his mouth full of toast. Gertrude tactfully left the kitchen, muttering something about needing to make her bed. Frank chose his words carefully.

‘Are you sure you’re okay with it? I mean, that nightmare you had last night seemed to really knock you for six. If helping Winston is going to bring up stuff for you, we can always pull out.’

Joe swallowed his mouthful of toast and rolled his eyes.

‘Excuse me Sigmund Freud, have you seen my brother Frank Hardy around here this morning?’ he asked cheekily. Frank didn’t laugh.

‘Oh, come on Frank! It was just a bad dream!’ Joe exclaimed, exasperation evident in his voice. ‘I’ve had bad dreams before and you’ve never suggested we drop a case.’

‘What was it about?’ Frank asked his brother directly, fixing his dark brown eyes on Joe.

‘I don’t remember,’ said Joe quickly, concentrating on buttering another piece of toast.

Frank continued to look closely at his brother, not believing for an instant that he couldn’t remember the dream. Putting down the toast, Joe met Frank’s gaze again.

‘Look, it makes no difference whether I remember the dream or not. It was just a stupid dream! It doesn’t mean anything. Dad hasn’t got time to help Winston, and Chief Collig will say there’s no way the case is going to be re-opened unless more leads are uncovered. Imagine if it was Callie’s uncle asking us to find her! Or Vanessa’s. Would you be seriously telling me we should stop investigating because one of us had had a stupid, bad dream?’

‘No, I suppose not,’ said Frank in his quiet, calm voice.

‘Well that’s settled then,’ said Joe, his hair still sticking ridiculously in the air. ‘I’ll have a quick shower and get changed. Meet you back down here in half an hour so we can get started.’

With that, Joe took his toast and bounded back upstairs.

Frank sat and chewed his toast thoughtfully. He couldn’t argue with what Joe had said about the need for somebody to be searching for Winston’s niece, but he hadn’t liked the sight of his brother’s pale face, clenched fists and tensed shoulders. Nor had he liked the raised voice or over-reaction. It was also highly likely that Joe had lied to him about not being able to remember the dream. His brother had never been able to lie convincingly to him. Frank made a mental note to watch for further signs of stress. Joe wouldn’t like it, but if he had to, Frank would tell their father that helping Winston wasn’t worth it.