The light went back on. Then it went off again. On and off. On and off. Three times Frank hit the switch. Frank held his breath, watching his brother who was standing as still as a statue in the middle of the bathroom, blade in hand.

Frank waited and waited.

"What?" Phil asked. He had also heard the sounds but he was not exactly sure what they were.

"The lights," Frank said excitedly.

"What?" Phil asked again.

"The three clicks. I think Haydin was turning them off three times. That's the trigger."

Frank was still waiting. When he saw Joe standing with a razor blade in his hand his heart nearly stopped, but he knew he had to act fast. After what felt like eternity, Joe slowly turned his head. A brief flash of panic crossed his contorted features and as if realizing what he had nearly done, he stared in horror at the blade in his hand.

"Frank..." he whispered and Frank rushed forward catching Joe neatly in his arms as he collapsed. His hand fell limply to the side and Joe lay unconscious in Frank's arms.

When Frank saw the blood running down Joe's hand, he was afraid he had not arrived in time before Joe could cut himself. Laying his brother gently down on the floor, he gingerly pried the blade away and upon checking the cuts on Joe's wrist and palm, he was relieved to see that they weren't deep at all.

Frank lifted Joe easily and carried him to his bed. Joe is lighter than a bag of feathers now, he thought in dismay, remembering when there was a time that Joe was a few pounds heavier than him. After Joe was safely lying on his own bed, Frank made sure Joe was breathing okay. Except for his pulse, which was running like a freight train, Frank could find nothing wrong with his brother.

For anyone else, Joe only looked as if he was asleep but Frank knew better. Why did Joe try to kill himself? Frank could never forget the sight of Joe slitting his own wrist, he was going to remember that forever. The thought of losing Joe made Frank shudder. What would have happened if I had arrived a few minutes too late? It was pure, dumb luck, he thought. His hand was still trembling.

With a damp cloth, Frank slowly dabbed Joe's face, pressing slightly on Joe's eyes and forehead, bringing him around gently. "Joe, wake up."

Joe remained unresponsive, his face ghostly pale. Getting more than a little worried now, Frank shook his brother's shoulder. "Come on, Joe. Wake up for me."

Frank is talking to me. I can hear the words, but for some reason it's taking me a while to figure out what he's saying. Maybe I'm not awake enough yet. Why don't I open my eyes a bit?

"That's it, little brother, that's it. Just a little bit more," Joe heard Frank coax gently.

Hmm, okay. That's better. Both my eyes are open now. Frank is hovering over me, his face so close I think he's about to kiss me.

"Urgh, perv," Joe muttered, trying to push Frank away but his limbs felt so heavy. His mind felt confused and his memories were so jumbled he felt like he'd just drunk five shots of straight Scotch. Wait a minute, he thought, what's going on?

"Frank?" Joe tried to sit up, but gave up when the world started spinning again. He was exhausted and he had a headache. Frank had the strangest look on his face, a cross between alarm and delight. And he was looking at him kind of funny too. "Has something happened?" Joe tried lifting his hand to give Frank a shake, but the sudden pain made him wince. That's funny, he thought, I don't remember hurting my hand..."Frank, what's going on? And why is my hand all bandaged like this?"

"Don't you remember?" Frank asked tentatively. He wasn't all that sure that Joe was back to normal, but if he was, Frank had to know. "Don't you remember anything?"

"Wh-What?" Joe asked, confused. "I asked you first!" Then his nose wrinkled. "Frank, you look terrible. When was the last time you shaved?"

"Never mind about that. What can you remember?" Frank asked, worried that he might have gotten the trigger wrong after all.

"Starting when?" Joe asked. There was just too much. Frank gave him a weird look, as if contemplating to say something but then decided against it. What can I remember? Joe thought as he closed his eyes, trying to sort out his jumbled, fragmented pieces of memories. He grimaced when he was suddenly hit by a pang of pain. Pain. He remembered a lot of pain. Joe swallowed hard as he probed deep inside his mind to find the source of the pain and gasped when he found it. When Joe opened his eyes open, they were wet with tears.

"Frank, tell me it didn't happen," Joe pleaded, his voice small as he fought to keep it from breaking. But he knew he didn't need Frank to tell him that because he knew perfectly well it did. And that only made the pain worse. Joe lost his battle with composure, and again after so many times, hot tears of humiliation broke through the mental barrier, flowing down his cheeks, draining to the back of his throat.

"Shh, Joe, it's okay..." Frank rubbed a hand up and down his brother's arm soothingly. "You're safe now. He can't do anything to you anymore."

"It's Wei-Weinh-" Joe tried to say the name but the name caught in his throat, and he found himself gasping for breath. Frank circled an arm behind Joe's back and raised him slowly, sitting him up, his arm strong as he enveloped his brother in a tight embrace. "I know, Joe, I know..."

"I b-begged him to stop b-but he-he-"

"Shh, Joe, don't try to talk," Frank admonished gently, rocking him back and forth. Joe breathed in deeply, forcing himself to calm down. At last, his sobs quieted down. He looked up at Frank and when he saw the love and tenderness in his brother's warm brown eyes, Joe knew at least there was one person whom he could trust. He had given his trust freely before. And look where that got me, he thought bitterly, looking out the window at the dark night, as dark as his future.

2 months later...

Joe sat alone in one of the bleachers, his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses and his blond hair covered with a baseball cap. He watched them from across the field, his throat constricting as Cody McKenna, the new quarterback, bent down to whisper something in her ear. She threw her head back and laughed, her long blond hair cascading down her back. Oh, what Joe wouldn't give if he could run his fingers through that silky, sweet-scented hair, like he used to so many times before.

Joe swallowed hard, realizing that as much as he wanted to, they could never be together again. It wouldn't be fair to her. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Vanessa. And being with him would do just that to her.

Joe rose slowly, silently bidding Vanessa goodbye, not regretting his decision even for a minute when Vanessa, who had clearly seen him since the beginning of the game, turned away from him, linking her arm with Cody's. He had been the one who pushed Vanessa away, and if he had to do it again, he would. She had stubbornly stayed on, giving him all his support, offering him her unconditional love. But still he pushed her away.

"Why are you doing this, Joe?" She had said that night, her voice cracking as she tried hard to control her tears. "Why?"

"Because I don't need you anymore," Joe said, turning his face away from her. "I want you to leave me alone."

"Joe, I love you," Vanessa had tried again. "Please...don't-don't do this to me."

"I don't love you anymore, Vanessa," Joe said cruelly. His voice was hard, but God only knew how his heart was breaking then. It was the hardest thing he had to say his whole life.

"What?" Vanessa whispered in disbelief. "No, Joe, you don't-" her voice choked, "You don't mean that. You loved me, you said so yourself!"

"I've changed, Vanessa," Joe said coldly. And with a heart as heavy as stone, he had turned away and walked out of her life forever.

It's for the best, Vanessa, Joe told her silently as he walked away, leaving the field, leaving Vanessa, leaving memories. You'll see.

"Mr. Foreman." Judge May Farrell looked exactly like every attorney's, prosecution or defense, worst nightmare. She was indeed a formidable woman, with tight, serious features on an equally tight, serious face which looked as if it had never broken into even the slightest of smiles before. And in her courtroom, everyone was always quiet, which was unusual for a big trial with a national coverage like this. "Have you reached a verdict?"

"Yes, Your Honor." Frank watched nervously as a short, stocky man stood up. Joe, who was sitting next to him, was petrified. His whole body couldn't move, only his eyes were darting frantically from Haydin and the jury.

A sudden hush fell over the room. Frank's heart was pounding so hard he was sure everyone in the courtroom could hear it. This is it, he thought as the foreman opened his mouth. This is the moment of truth.

"We find the defendant-"

Laura Hardy gripped her husband's hand so hard her knuckles turned white, as white as her younger son's face.

Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease

"Not guilty."

Pain R