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The ride back to shore was...terrifying. Frank had his little brother in his arms, right in front of him, but he still didn't know the full extent of his injuries. For all he knew, Joe could drop dead any moment.

Gently, Frank lifted his brother's shirt, his eyes automatically drifting towards the large welts that covered his chest and stomach. Not only was his entire torso covered, but Joe was much thinner, his ribs so close to the surface that Frank could count them.

A drop of water splashed onto Joe's stomach. Frank wiped it away, suddenly realizing that he was crying. Whether from fear or happiness or joy...all he knew was that once the drops started down, they didn't stop.

Frank turned to his brother's head. He had already wrapped the old wound, praying that it hadn't already been an infection. Frank had noticed that Joe's pupil's were dilated last time he had opened his eyes, making him sure that Joe had a concussion.

Chet turned around, looking at the brothers. "He's alright, Frank. We did it."

Frank shook his head, remembering the blood in the park. It was amazing that Joe had survived on so little blood, especially after being obviously beaten.

The question that nagged at his mind ― the one that Frank had been trying to avoid ― was who. Who had done this to his brother? And why? There was no obvious answer to either of these questions.

The shore was in sight now. Frank once again put his arms under his brother, marveling at how light he was. As soon as the boat slowed, Frank stepped out onto the rocky beach, laying his limp brother out. He checked the pulse again. It was still there, beating softly but steadily.

After that, the events came in a blur. Jerry, the only one with the foresight to bring a cell phone, had called for an ambulance. Before it got there, Frank borrowed Jerry's phone, suddenly remembering a very important call he had forgotten to make.

"Mom?" he said when the phone was picked up. "Mom, we found him."

There was a sound like the phone was dropped, then hurriedly picked back up again. "Is he...?" Laura Hardy's voice was shaking.

"No mom, he's right here. He's out of it, but he's alive." Saying the words made Frank laugh out loud. "He's alive mom!"

Frank dropped the phone, doubling over in hysterics. He laughed until he cried, then he started laughing again.

Chet knelt down next to him, his voice low and calm, his brow furrowed. It took Frank a minute to realize that Chet was worried about him. It had been awhile since he knew somebody was worried about something other then Joe.

"We did good, Frank." Chet said softly, patting his friend on the back just like Joe would. "You did good." A short pause, "look, here's the ambulance, Frank. You go on with them. I'll tell your mom where you've gone and follow behind with the guys."

Without Chet's help, Frank would have still been sitting on that beach in hysterics. Without Chet's help, he would never had gotten to the hospital. Without his help, his mom wouldn't have known, and the world would have come crashing down on Frank's head until he couldn't take it anymore.

But Chet did help, and that kept Frank sane. For a while.

I love Chet. He's so nice. So anyway, ya'll review now, ya' hear?