AN: I do not own the Hardy Boys or The Phantom of the Opera. (If I did, I'd be too amazed at myself to write fan fiction.)
I was listening to this song on my Ipod and somehow connected it to the Hardy's. Please read and review!
Wishing you were somehow here again
Joe stumbled through the graveyard to his destination. What was he doing here? This wasn't where Frank was supposed to be. If anything, Joe should be buried six feet under; he was always the reckless one. Not Frank, he sobbed, me!
You were once my one companion
You were all that mattered.
You were once a friend and father,
Then my world was shattered.
Fenton Hardy's work came first. He didn't want it to, but detective work was inconvienient and unpredictable. Frank was Joe's father-figure, constant stronghold, and refuge. Now he was gone. Dead.
Wishing you were somehow here again
Wishing you were somehow near
Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed
Somehow you would be here.
The dreams. They were the worst. They were blissful. Joe had Frank and they were happy. Alive. Then Joe would wake up and Frank would die all over again, taking another piece of his blue-eyed brother with him to the crypt.
Wishing I could hear your voice again,
Knowing that I never would.
Dreaming of you helped me to do
All that you dreamed I could.
Joe slammed his fist into the earth at the base of the marble cross. He repeated the action until his knuckles were bloody and bruised. Joe collapsed over the tiny crater his hand had formed and sobbed for the eighth time that day. He was so damn close to his brother, but not near at all.
Passing bells and sculpted angels,
cold and monumental,
Seem for you the wrong companion,
you were warm and gentle
Frank didn't belong in a cemetary. Good, kind, caring people like Frank didn't belong to the dirt. They didn't deserve death. Impulsive, irrational, uncaring little brothers did. "No, no, Joe," Frank whispered, "I would take that bullet for you a million times." And Joe knew it was true. And he hated himself more for it.
Too many years
Fighting back tears
Why can't the past just die!
There wasn't anything he wouldn't give to have his older brother back. Nothing he wouldn't give.
Wishing you were somehow here again,
Knowing we must say goodbye
"Let go," Frank's voice filled his head again. "I'm not going anywhere, but you have to let go." Joe found himself staring at the sky. Could he let go?
Try to forgive,
Teach me to live.
Give me the strength to try!
Finally, Joe reached a dicision. He'd go, but he wouldn't forget. Frank was part of him. Losing him had been hell, like the amputation of a limb, but the past was past and Joe would erode into nothing if he didn't let Frank rest.
No more memories,
No more silent tears.
No more gazing across the wasted years
Joe pushed himself up off the dirt and dead grass. With one last look at Frank's name in stone, he strode out of the cemetary. He felt... lighter, but still leaden. Joe had released Frank. But he would not forget.
Help me say goodbye.
Help me say goodbye!