Frank gasped, and shot out of his seat. In his surprise he didn't realize that Joe had immediately clutched his arm when the jury gave their verdict, and he suddenly found himself toppling backward. "Nooo!!!!" he screamed, falling flat on his back, the breath knocked out of him in one big grunt. Joe loomed over him, shaking him. "Hey, Frank, are you okay?"

"Frank, wake up," Joe said again, shaking his brother's shoulder more vigorously. He'd woken up in the middle of the night to Frank's screams. With a racing heart, he'd bolted from his room and charged through the bathroom door, thinking that somebody was attacking his brother but instead, Frank was thrashing in his bed, muttering and mumbling incoherently.

"What?" Frank asked, confused. Wait a minute, he thought, squinting a little in the dark. When did it get so dark in here? Frank blinked a few times. This is no courtroom, this is MY room. What's going on?

"Frank, are you okay?" Joe repeated his question. "Did you have a nightmare?" he asked sympathetically. Countless times Frank had rushed to his own bedroom, knowing he was going to find the same thing everytime, Joe in the grips of another nightmare. Joe had been trying to push the past behind him, but the harder he tried, the more the past haunted him. It had been over two months since it happened, but to Joe, it felt like yesterday. Because everyday he was reminded, by the sights of Vanessa, his family, his school, his friends...even looking at himself in the mirror could bring tears to his eyes. And Joe didn't even have to guess what Frank's nightmare was about. It was written all over his face.

"Bad, huh?" Joe asked casually, sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked down at his lap for a while, before lifting his head up. "Wanna talk about it?"

Frank shook his head numbly. The trial was scheduled to start the day after tomorrow and already he was having nightmares. Joe looked calmer than him though, but Frank couldn't bring himself to ask Joe how he truly felt.

"Let me guess. It was 'Not Guilty' this time, wasn't it?" Joe asked, an amused-yet-bitter smile on his face. Frank looked at him in surprise. Joe chuckled softly at the amazement on his brother's face, shaking his head a little.

"Last night, you yelled 'Objection' so loud I swear people could hear you from here to Texas," Joe said. Frank felt his face turning red. Last night, he dreamt he was a prosecutor and the dream Judge had just granted a bail for Haydin at a mere $1000. Naturally, he objected.

"You heard that, huh?" Frank whispered. Nervousness had long since tied his stomach into knots and now as the date for the trial inched closer, he could feel the adrenaline rushing through his blood everytime he thought about it.

Then Frank and Joe shared a moment of intimate silence, each content with his own trains of thought. At times like these, Frank was glad that they were close, close enough to understand each other with hardly any effort. Joe had gone through hell, and Frank was grateful Joe trusted him enough to let him in. He couldn't bear the thought of Joe having to go through this alone. And he hoped Joe knew that.

"Joe? You awake?" Fenton knocked on his younger son's door. Joe was scheduled to meet his counselor, a pleasant lady appointed by the hospital this morning, and Fenton had waited long enough. Frank had already gone to the bank to run an errand for him so he thought he might accompany Joe that morning, and get him to talk at the same time. Since the tragedy, Joe had barely talked to his parents. The only person he would confide in was Frank.

Fenton frowned when Joe didn't respond. He knocked again, louder this time. "Joe?" No response. Hesitating a little, Fenton uncertainly twisted the knob. Privacy was Joe's middle name nowadays. Even Frank couldn't go into the room unless Joe wanted to let him in. Though a little perturbed, the whole family understood Joe's needs to be left alone at times but Fenton knew that it wasn't doing Joe any good. Not in his condition. But the blood running in Joe's veins came from him and he knew that stubbornness was a trait that Joe had inherited from him, making him adamantly refuse the helping hands that his family was holding out to him.

"Joe? You in there?" Fenton asked, knocking on the bathroom door upon finding the room empty. When he got no response, Fenton grew alarmed. Where could Joe be? He's not in the kitchen, nor outside the house, he thought. I hope he didn't forget he's got a counseling session this morning and wander off somewhere.

Fenton was about to turn and walk away when an imperceptible sound from inside the bathroom caught his attention. It sounded like someone was grunting, and it sounded a lot like Joe. "Joe?"

"Dad." Someone said weakly from inside. Joe. "Dad, help me."

Alarmed, Fenton threw open the door and immediately kneeled down next to his son. Joe was sprawled on the floor, his head lolling lifelessly against the wall, dressed only in his boxers. "What happened? Did you get dizzy? Are you in pain?"

"Just a little-faint," Joe answered weakly, and with his father's help he managed to stand. "I was about to t-take a shower when it hit me." Fenton slipped a strong arm under Joe's arms and supported him as Joe staggered to his bed. Sitting down heavily, he hung his head down, shaking it from side to side slowly, and at last the dizziness passed.

"Where's your medicine?"

"I-I've run out," Joe answered sheepishly. "I just realized this morning that I've finished it yesterday."

Fenton glared at his son. "You know what happens when you don't take your medication. Why didn't you tell me or your mother straight away yesterday that your prescription needed to be filled? I thought we've agreed on this."

"You know what, Dad? Maybe I don't need to take those pills anymore," Joe rebuked sharply, and instantly hated himself for snapping at his father but he couldn't help it. "They are not going to do anything, except to put off the inevitable for what, a couple of months?"

Blood drained from Fenton's face. He felt as if someone had just punched him in the guts. He dropped onto Joe's bed heavily next to his son. Joe drew in a shuddering breath, realizing that he had upset his father. "Dad, I'm sorry, I-I didn't-"

"If I hear anything like that coming out from your mouth ever again, Joseph Hardy, I'll-I'll..." Fenton's voice faltered helplessly. What could he say? Joe was his son. His flesh and blood. And there was nothing Fenton could do but watch Joe slip away, little by little, every day. Nothing. All because of that-that- Fenton felt a lump rise in his throat. "Just don't say it, okay Joey?"

Joe nodded numbly, knowing how much his words had hurt his father. And Fenton had never called him Joey before, not since he was a toddler. He turned his head slowly and looked up at his father. Tears were glistening in Fenton's eyes.

"Dad?" Joe laid a hand on his father's thigh, feeling the tight, bunched muscles under his fingers. "I love you. I love ALL of you."

Fenton slid an arm slowly around Joe's shoulders and hugged him close to his chest, laying the other hand against the side of Joe's face. He knew Joe could hear the poundings of his heart, beating faster and faster as Fenton struggled to control his emotions. He wanted Joe to know that with every single beat, his heart was pounding with love for him.

But he didn't need to. Because Joe knew.

"Where have you been?" Laura Hardy asked as Fenton entered the kitchen later that morning. She was loading dirty dishes from breakfast into the dishwasher. "I woke up this morning and everybody except Joe was gone."

"I went to Bayport General. Joe's prescriptions needed to be filled." Fenton held up a plastic bag filled with bottles and bottles of tablets and capsules. "Where is he?"

"Still asleep," Laura said softly. He noticed that his wife's eyes had gone dark and sorrowful. Fenton knew they'd get that way every time they talked about Joe. She stopped whatever she was doing and went to the kitchen table instead, sinking slowly into one of the chairs. "Frank still doesn't know?"

Fenton shook his head, sighing. He squeezed his wife's shoulder reassuringly. "He's a strong boy, Laura."

"But not strong enough for this, Fenton. No one is strong enough for this." Laura looked up at her husband, her blue eyes wet with unshed tears. Her lips trembled slightly as she remembered how Joe looked when she went to check in on him that morning. He'd looked so frail, so weak, Laura had a hard time believing that the young man sleeping upstairs was her son, her once strong, energetic son. "He's getting worse, isn't he?"

Fenton nodded gravely, his solemn dark eyes hiding a lot of pain and grief, which only Laura can see.

Laura whispered fiercely, "I can't lose him, Fenton. I-I can't lose our baby."

Fenton massaged his wife's shoulders tenderly with a distant look in his eyes as Laura cried quietly.

"Hey, Frank." Frank twisted around. Vanessa was standing behind him nervously. He was standing outside the bank, unsure whether to just head home or not. Home didn't exactly feel like home anymore, with everyone walking around like strangers, sometimes encouraging him to stay out.

"Hey. Vanessa." Frank didn't know how to act around Vanessa anymore. They'd grown to be complete strangers to each other but Frank knew it wasn't her fault. It wasn't her fault either that Joe had broken up with her either.

"So. What's up?" She asked casually. She sounded cool, but behind her calm demeanor Frank could see that there was more to her casual question.

"Oh, nothing. Just have something to do or my dad," Frank said. They both fidgeted in uncomfortable silence for a couple of seconds, each unsure of what to say when Vanessa spoke again. "How is-everything?"

"Everything's-fine," Frank answered hesitantly.

"I heard about the trial," she said. "Is Joe going to you know, testify?" Vanessa sounded worried, but anyone who knew Joe would.

"As a matter of fact, he is." Frank looked down at the ground. Deep down he knew Vanessa still cared for Joe. Frank didn't want anything more than to see both of them back together again, but for some unknown reasons, Joe refused to even talk to her. And Frank could see how it was hurting Vanessa more than Joe knew. Her face was drawn and pale, and large circles ringed her eyes.

"Well, can you please tell Joe, uh, good luck?" Vanessa asked hopefully. "And tell him, that whenever he needs me, I'll always be here for him. Even if it's just as a-a friend." Frank nodded his head sympathetically. Vanessa lingered a little longer, looking as if she wanted to say something more, but decided against it.

"Well, I'll see you around, Frank." A note of sadness tinged her goodbye, and Vanessa raised her hand to wave but Frank stepped forward hesitantly. Vanessa swallowed and hesitated a little before rushing forward into his open arms.

Frank hugged her tightly, her body tense and tight with palpable tension. "I miss him, Frank."

Frank didn't know what to say. But he knew one thing. "And he misses you too, I'm sure of it."

"No, he doesn't, Frank." She sighed, and gently pulled away from Frank's embrace. "I'm out of his life now, remember?"

"Hey." Joe opened his eyes to see Frank hovering at the bathroom door, looking at him expectantly. "You asleep? Sorry."

"It's okay, I'm awake now." Though weakness was gnawing at his bones, Joe forced himself to sit up, trying to pretend that everything was normal. Frank threw him a questioning glance. Understanding, Joe nodded and a second later, Frank was sitting in the chair at his desk.

"So how did the counseling session go?" Frank asked, studying his brother closely. Joe looked pale and tired, as if he hadn't slept at all last night. He felt a twinge of guilt as he remembered Joe waking him up from his nightmare, resulting in his lack of sleep. Little did he know that Joe's lethargy was because of something totally different.

"It went well." Joe was lying, but that was all he could offer for now. Frank seemed to believe him though, knowing better than to push him further. Frank bit his lower lip. "What is it, Frank?"

"I saw Vanessa today." Joe looked up sharply. But he said nothing. Frank acknowledged his silence and continued. "She wished you luck for the trial."

Joe nodded numbly.

"And tomorrow we're going over to Detective Gore's office to look over the evidence once again. Do you feel up for it?" Joe nodded again, still not saying a word.

"Joe, can I ask-"

"No." Frank closed his mouth and reluctantly nodded. Hesitantly he stood up, giving his brother one last look. But Joe didn't look back at him, just staring down at his blanket. "Alright, Joe. Have it your way."

After Frank had gone, Joe reached under his pillow and took out a frame. Inside was a photo of him and Vanessa, taken during the annual school dance. He smiled wistfully as he traced a finger down Vanessa's beautiful face. Vanessa smiled back at him. They looked so happy at the time, Joe could hardly believe that was him in the picture, looking dashing in a tux with a beautiful angel by his side. But the good old days are over, he thought, whether I want them to be or not. His heart achingly wondered if Vanessa had asked Frank about him. She probably didn't.

Sighing again, Joe slipped the frame back deep under the pillow and sank his head back. A few moments later he drifted off into a restless sleep.

Pain R