A/N - Many thanks to Cherylann, EvergreenDreamweaver, and Paulina Ann, who have already entered a review. Thanks for the send off for this story all and thanks to everyone reading along. Just twenty nine little chapters to go :)
CHAPTER 2
Tickles...
The soft bristles brushed across his nose, stopping with a final swish over his brow. Frank opened his eyes as he felt the wizened little man leaning over him retreat.
"I think that's about all I can do for you, young man. Must say, I've been doing this almost thirty years, making the dead look a little more alive for one last day. This is the first time anyone ever asked me to make a live boy look more dead."
Fenton edged his way between the two, realizing the situation was a bit unnerving for his older son. "Thank you, and I appreciate your discretion. As I said, the circumstances are somewhat unique."
The older man chuckled, folding his kit as he stood. "Oh, every favor I do for my nephew Arthur is unique, Mr. Hardy, one way or another. I'll just be on my way, don't you be worrying 'bout me none. And don't you be staying dead too long there, young Frank. It doesn't suit ya."
A weak smile crossed Frank's face, the makeup feeling taut on his skin. "I'll d-do my b-best to avoid it."
"Hah! See that you do, boy, see that you do." He left the small room in the back of the church, muttering about his bizarre relatives and their equally odd acquaintances as he left.
"Not much longer now. You doing okay?" Fenton was finding it hard to look into the burnished casket at his child. Perhaps the face painting job was a bit too good.
"Y-yeah." Frank shifted on his back slightly, the wool of his suit sliding over the satin lining of the coffin. He winced as the motion jarred his unsupported right arm. Still, he couldn't think of a viable excuse for what his corpse would need with a sling in the great hereafter, so it had been left behind at the hospital. "D-dad?"
His father heard the hesitation and suspected their morning conversation was about to be rehashed. "Yes?"
"I n-need to tell Callie."
"We've been over this. If half the county knows what we're up to, this won't work. As soon as we can get everything back to normal, we will, but right now I have to prioritize you staying safe over bruised feelings."
"S-she's not half the c-county. N-not that many people know."
A deep sigh escaped the senior detective. Frank was right. At the moment only their immediate family, his sister, four government agents, and a very limited medical staff were aware of the plan to smuggle Frank to relative safety while he recuperated. "She'll be alright."
Frank closed his eyes, the strength to argue leaching away. "Yeah, like J-Joe was after Iola." He let the statement hang, aware it was hurtful, but unable to summon much remorse about it. "May I at least s-see Joe?"
The question hit his father harder than the jab about Iola ever could have. The recent weeks had made him incredibly worried about both of his children. While the severity of Frank's injuries explained a lot of his uncharacteristic moodiness, Fenton hadn't recognized just how much his plan to protect them had driven a physical wedge between his sons. There hadn't been a plausible excuse to sneak Joe into his brother's hospital room, leaving Frank going it alone. His sons relied on each other in any crisis, and Fenton had unintentionally denied them that. The strained conversations of the last few days looked a lot different in that context.
"Of course you can, Frank. You never have to ask permission to see your brother. I'm sorry if I made you feel like you did." Fenton sat in the hardback chair beside the polished walnut casket, leaning his elbows on the cream fabric covered rim. "Joe and your mother will be here early and he can come back with you for a while. No one will think it's out of character if he needs a few minutes alone before the service starts."
"I k-know I can't do much right now, b-but Joe and I have been hurt before." Frank paused, longer sentences still managing to steal his breath. "P-playing dead is pretty drastic. You expecting more trouble th-than you've said?"
Whatever might still be physically wrong with Frank, his perception seemed perfectly intact. Not that Fenton was spectacularly happy about that right now. He had seldom asked for obedience without an explanation from his children, especially once they'd left the realm of rocking horses and Winnie the Pooh. Fearing to upset his firstborn's fragile progress by involving him in too much planning, he'd done precisely that this past week. He wasn't certain if Frank's acquiescence was familial obedience or resigned exhaustion.
"Getting too predictable in my old age, am I?" The attempt at levity didn't work well and Fenton resorted to a shrug. "Maybe. A few of the agents and embassy personnel involved in the search for you and Joe have gone missing and some Raneian government officials have turned up dead. Plus there's always the standard cast of past criminal crazies that might like to take advantage of any one of us being vulnerable. I need to be here keeping an eye on you and your mother and I need to search for Chet. This is the best compromise I could come up with."
"S-sorry."
"For what?"
"N-not holding up my end."
"You always hold up your end, Frank. None of this could possibly be construed as your fault; if anything, it's mine. I should have recognized the situation on Ranei was potentially dangerous before I ever took you over there. You stay focused on getting back on your feet and everything else will work itself out. Besides, Joe would rather have you for a partner than me any day, so you've got to get back in gear." Fenton thought he ought to add something else, but it wouldn't come to him. "Got your part for today down?"
Frank snorted softly. "Being d-dead isn't that h-hard."
"I guess not." A hint of a rueful smile snuck through. "Just don't fidget. There's plenty of ventilation hidden in this thing and the only time it will be open is right at the end of the service. Joe's going to open it to say goodbye. That shouldn't take more than a minute, so you won't have to hold up to too much close observation, but it will cement the image that it's you in everyone's head. Other than that it's closed casket; you should be able to pull this off fine. This coffin gets interchanged with the fake one en route to the cemetery and once the graveside service is finished the hearse driver will take you to the airport. Laura will meet you there as soon as she can and you'll travel together. Got it?"
"Got it. I h-have the simple part."
"Dad?" Joe's voice drifted in from the doorway, reluctant and eager to see Frank all at once.
Fenton nodded at him, acknowledging his presence, but continued to stare at Frank. "I think that's my cue. I'll see you as soon as Joe and I get home. Get well, and don't worry. " He stalled another second, wishing the macabre scene before his eyes wasn't going to stick with him. "I love you, son."
"Love you too, D-Dad."
Joe waited until his father shut the door before closing the gap to Frank, silently watching.
"Joe? You l-look a little shell sh-shocked. You ok?"
"Me? I'm fine, but-" Joe paused, eyes sweeping the small room.
"B-but?"
"You're pale as death and laying in a coffin, Frank. It's freaking me out a little, ok?" Joe let out a loud breath and flopped into the vacated chair.
"Practicing for H-hallow-ween." Frank grinned, but the returning smile from his brother was wan at best.
"We're only six weeks past Easter." Joe hesitated, then plowed ahead. "Why don't you want me here?"
"Wh-wh-what?" The sputter this time around had nothing to do with recent injuries.
Joe's eyes dropped to the point of his tie, fingers repetitively rolling and unrolling the silver-blue fabric there. His mouth opened and closed in a few false starts, unsure where to begin. "It took me so long to find you on the island, Frank. I lost Chet and nearly starved Biff trying to get to you, and all the while you were being... being..." Joe stopped and choked down the vision of finding his brother below the prison gallows, broken in the dirt. "They nearly killed you while I was out on a hell-spawned nature hike and then I still couldn't get you to a hospital. Watching Reza slice your arm... I'm so sorry, Frank. I don't blame you, but if you'll just let me stay, then maybe-"
"S-stop. You don't blame me? For wh-what? You think I'm a-a-angry, don't you? I'm not, Joe. Y-you could have left me there. Probably sh-should have for your sake, but y-you didn't." He paused, riding out a series of rapid pants until he had air again. "How do you think I survived the l-last month?"
Frank waited, letting the quiet drag out until his brother finally met his eyes. Exactly how he'd survived, heck on the worst days the only reason he'd even wanted to, shone there, more eloquently etched than any explanation he could have offered. "Th-thank you."
Joe's smile was a little sheepish this time. "You're welcome. I thought we were ok on the plane, but these last few days... I guess my imagination got the best of me when you told me to leave."
"To g-go, not to leave. It's d-different. It's n-not that I want you going b-back there, Joe, but I th-think you need to." Frank kept his escalating nightmares about his sibling getting hurt, or worse, on the return trip to himself. Unlike his brother, he tended to doubt the veracity of gut reactions. Not Joe's so much, but certainly his own.
"For Chet?" Joe released his hold on the abused neckwear, clammy palms now swiping along his knees.
Frank nodded, but incongruently said no. "N-no, for you. Y-you're not going to be okay with all this unless you've tried everything to g-get Chet back."
"I'm not going to be okay with all this unless I do get Chet back." Joe stood, but skipped the desired pacing in deference to his sore foot. At least the wheelchair had been left at the hospital in favor of a cane.
"H-heard you got eulogy d-duty." Frank suspected this might be a touchy topic. Public speaking definitely didn't make Joe's favorite pass times list.
"Yeah, I did, and I've gotta have a word with whoever stuck me with the short straw. It's all rigged, I tell you, but someone's gotta make a speech or we'll be marooned in this zombie remake forever. And if I'm getting stuck in a B grade movie, it's going to be a beach bunny flick."
"Y-you wish." Frank accepted the abrupt change in mood, recognizing Joe needed it. "S-so, are you going to embarrass m-me with silly stories? T-tell everybody I'm afraid of Ferris wh-wheels?"
"Oh, the Ferris wheel bit didn't even make the first page, bro. I'm dredging up the good stuff." Producing the trademark little brother smirk took more effort than usual, but Joe managed.
"D-don't know what Dad was th-thinking giving you a captive au-dience." Frank stopped for a few shallow gasps. "T-try to limit the wisecracks. It's a s-ss-solemn occasion, not improv night."
"Hey! I can do solemn. Somber even. As always, I'll be the epitome of decorum."
"Epitome of d-decorum? Ness making you r-read those SAT voc-c-abulary books again?"
Joe plastered on his best indignant look. "I'm eloquent naturally, I'll have you know. I thought I'd tell everybody about the time you accidently locked yourself in the bathroom and then couldn't get the shower to turn off and Mom had to break in to stop the flood; or maybe the time you told Dad you secretly wanted to be a hermit just so you wouldn't have to admit you were lost all day in the woods at the Morton's farm. You know, the time you wore those sneakers with the squished honey-bun hidden in them all day instead of telling Callie she burnt them past human consumption was pretty good, too. I can still hear you licking your fingers and telling her how delicious it was. You really should have seen your face when she decided you could just eat mine as well since you liked it so much. It must have taken you twenty minutes to gag that thing down."
"L-long as you don't mention me ch-chopping up Mom's m-mail order flower bulbs last winter we're okay."
"You did that!? Frank, she's convinced I lost them on the way home from the post office and won't confess. Why'd you slice them up anyway?"
"Th-they were in the fridge. L-looked like water chestnuts."
"Don't tell me we ate them." Joe gave an exaggerated huff at Frank's nod. "Great. I'll probably grow orchids out my ears now."
"L-least you'll look better." Frank laughed. "T-try to resist a few of my b-bigger blunders, okay?"
"What, and pass up my chance to reveal all my big brother's finest moments to the whole town? No way. Ooh, I know. The Bangles poster. Now there's a story that needs to be told while you can't interrupt me!"
Frank frowned slightly. "What's wr-wrong with a poster of a b-band?"
Joe expression turned vaguely malicious. "It's an out of date girly band, you looked like an idiot doing that Egyptian thing around your room, and you didn't take it down 'til the summer you were fourteen. I think you were in love."
"T-twelve, and th-that's not how I remember it. I n-never ever did that d-dance."
"You keep telling yourself that, dude. I could've sold tickets."
The pipe organ on the other side of the wall began to play, a soft hint that everyone was waiting. The banter faded instantly, each struck with a nagging unease that this really was a goodbye; neither willing to voice it. It still felt too real. "Guess we better do this, huh?"
Frank nodded and motioned for Joe to shut the casket lid, leaving the vast majority of the what he wanted to say unspoken. Joe heard it anyway. "Yeah. B-be careful in Ranei, will you?"
"Me? Aren't I always?"
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to be continued...