A/N: Thanks to AlecTowser, Caranath, DuffyBarkley, & Xenithia for the reviews! Two more chapters after this, folks...
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Joe really, really hated hospitals.
Especially ER's. Especially ER's where Older Brother was also admitted and got loud, rude, and obnoxious when the hospital staff tried to put him across the floor from Joe. The staff had compromised by giving the brothers adjoining curtained-off partitions…which meant both brothers shared the combined focus of Joshua, Kris, and Mar.
No, "share" was a misnomer. Frank received a small fraction of questions, once the disjointed tale of what had gone down had come out, and he was discharged after the plaster had sufficiently dried on his arm cast. Joe, though: admitted and placed under observation, with more tests to be run, and he had been too out of it to answer anything coherently.
At least this time it was only a quarter of the tubes: one IV with antibiotics, two blood transfusions, and two long, sleepless days. Joe's room-mate was an elderly man hooked on Gilligan's Island, and one of the UHF stations was running a marathon. When Joe finally drifted off to sleep, he found out how early the X-ray team went to work: very. Ungodly. Why-are-you-idiots-up, for that matter.
"I'm really sick of seeing you in a hospital bed," Frank said, from the doorway.
Joe just looked at him, as Frank came in and sprawled in the chair. Frank's cast was covered in colorful marker drawings: rainbow bunnies, dinosaurs, and…an angel.
"Don't say a single word," Frank growled.
"Tag kept the markers away from Josh, I see," Joe said.
"No. She didn't." Frank nodded towards the door. "Mar's getting your discharge info. You're getting kicked out of here with extreme prejudice, because the doctors can't figure out how you got a bullet in your chest and lost all that blood without a massive hole where your heart should be."
"Just lucky, I guess."
"And they want you out of here before the word malpractice occurs to anyone." Frank ran a hand through his hair, rubbed at his eyes. He looked as exhausted as Joe felt.
"I vote we not tell Dad or Aunt Gertrude that I've got a 9mm slug in my chest," Joe said.
"What do you mean 'we', white man?" Frank's gaze moved to the TV. "As far as they're concerned, it never happened. Any of it."
Joe managed to smile, then settled back into the bed with a yawn.
"Just so you know," Frank said, "Rita and Eme are at the Center. They're camped out in Tag's rooms until everyone figures out what to do. Angel and Downs…found their mother."
Given how Emelio had been in shock at Wings, Joe had expected that. He breathed out, weary. "They've been told, I take it."
"Yeah."
Silence fell, broken only by the sounds of "Skipper! Skipper!" and "GILLIGAAAAN!" Stupid, inane, incongruous.
"Brother…" Joe said finally, quietly, and waited until Frank looked at him, "…thanks."
Silence stretched out. Joe shifted, uncomfortable under the weight of Frank's gaze.
"Why?" Frank said.
"It was the only way I could think of to save Edward," Joe said, not looking at his brother. It wasn't the whole reason, but it'd do, for now. "Lure Thatcher out with something he wanted, someone Gifted who wasn't hooked. And with Dad as a bonus…Thatcher probably thought he'd be safe, 'cause no one would think one of Fenton's boys could be a killer." It came out more bitter than Joe intended. "I wasn't sure Josh or Tag would shoot." Quieter, "I knew you would."
"Downs was out there."
"He definitely wouldn't have shot. No one would've believed him." Brief, short laughter shook Joe. "He hates us, so he doesn't dare kill us. How messed up is that? And you were at point-blank range." Joe looked away again. "You wouldn't miss."
"You couldn't have saved Edward," Frank said, just as quietly. "He was willing, every step of the way. He was hurting Rita and Eme even without Thatcher egging him on."
"I know," Joe said. "I…was told."
"I wanted to ask," Frank said, after the silence had become uncomfortable. "That stuff on your chest. Something Tag did for protection?"
Between the blood, the injuries, and all the chaos, Joe was surprised Frank had noticed anything there. Then again, this was Frank. But Joe wasn't about to admit what had happened between him and Jamie. Not yet, anyway. "Nothing. Just…nothing."
Frank raised an eyebrow, but at that point, Mar came in with the nurses, discharge papers, Joe's crutch, and most important, clean clothes. As Joe changed, he looked over his chest and as much of his back as he could see in the bathroom mirror. The phoenix was definitely gone. What the gunshot and blood hadn't ruined, the nurses' scrubbing and hospital procedures had obliterated.
Walking was an effort; even sitting in the back of the car had Joe dozing off long before they reached the Center. He jolted when Frank shook him awake, and accepted Frank's help in walking into the Center. The moment Joe made it through the door into the commons, though, he was ambushed — two screaming missiles grabbed him and hung on, babbling in a flurry of Spanish and English.
Sharp Spanish silenced both Rita and Emelio, but while Emelio looked guiltily back at the speaker — Downs — Rita continued to cling to Joe, sobbing.
"Sorry." Downs didn't sound sorry; his eyes picked Joe over with cold distaste. "They insisted on waiting for you. I didn't realize they'd tackle you like that. Ritacita, Emelio, vienen aquí."
"It's okay." Joe levered himself down to Rita's level, enough to envelop her in his arms. "Rita…Ritacita, honey, it's all right. I'm all right."
She shook her head stubbornly, then flung herself at Frank with another torrent of Spanish, though Joe distinctly heard ángel repeated over and over.
"She thinks you and Frank really are angels," Emelio said, scowling. "I keep tellin' her that real angels have wings and halos, but she keeps sayin' it." The scowl turned on Joe. "You don't look like angels to me."
"They left their wings upstairs," said someone behind Joe and Frank — Kris — and something gold-glittery and itchy dropped onto Joe's head. Joe blinked, then stared in confusion as it sunk in that both he and Frank had Christmas-tinsel garlands on their heads —
— and a flashbulb went off.
"Got it!" Jamie crowed from the stairs, waving her Polaroid. "Our very own Bay Area Angels. That'll be a perfect motto for my takeover."
"Icon, I think you mean," Kris said; Mar had collapsed laughing to a nearby couch. "A motto's a slogan."
Jamie waved that aside. "Motto, slogan, icon, same difference. Us Evil Overlords are divinely appointed, and this proves it."
"If you people don't mind," Downs said, "these two little ruffians have an appointment with CPS. No, Jamie, I will not take the photo with me."
"You're no fun, Uncle Harold," Jamie said.
Downs said something stern in Spanish. Biting her lip, Rita still shook her head, looking from Frank to Joe, then more words tumbled out, breaking down into sobs. "¡Mamá está muerta! ¡La mataron! ¡Está muerta!"
Joe understood mamá, and it didn't take any more translation to know what Rita was saying, not with Emelio standing there, looking like he wanted to throw himself at Frank and Joe and bawl, too…and Frank was rocking Rita back and forth, head bowed.
"Rita…" Joe gathered her from Frank, then pulled Emelio in, too. For a long moment, both brothers hugged the children, let them sob themselves out. Joe was near-tears himself — why him? Why not their mother? What did these children do to deserve this…?
…chè, truly, I have no answer for you. I don't kill anyone. You do that to yourselves…
"Our mama died, too," Frank whispered, and Emelio and Rita looked up, sniffling and wiping at their faces. "When we were your age."
"Angels don't have mothers," Emelio choked out, which got a burst of protest from Rita.
"Well, we did," Frank said. "And she told us she'd always watch over us. Joe saw her — she talked with him, but I didn't believe him, and it really hurt, because I thought he was lying. But he wasn't, and that hurt him even more."
Emelio spoke to Rita, rapid Spanish that sounded as if he was translating.
Then Rita spoke, quiet, slow, breathy. "You…saw your mamá? ¿Su mamá es un ángel?"
Joe nodded, hugged the child tighter.
"You're sayin' Mamá's watching us, too," Emelio said. "But…but…we can't see her. We've been looking, and we can't see her!"
"I couldn't see my mom, either," Frank said, and for a moment, his gaze rested on Joe. "I was really scared of ghosts. Mom knew how scared I was and she didn't want to scare me more. Your mom just doesn't want to scare you."
"I'm not scared," Emelio said, scowling.
"¡Sí, lo eres!" Rita burst out, followed by a heated exchange between her and Emelio…and unexpectedly, Frank started laughing, tightening his hug around the children.
"What are they saying?" Joe said.
"That Eme's just as scared of the ghost in their closet as she is," Frank said.
Now Joe smiled. "Okay. Eme…Rita…" He waited until both children looked at him. "Tell you what. You two go with…with…Harold there. And when you get back, me and Frank'll tell you what we did about the monster in our closet." He leaned closer. "Make Harold buy you baseball bats."
Downs said something in Spanish; Emelio wiped at his face and got to his feet. Rita reluctantly pulled away from the brothers, only to fling her arms around Frank again, then ran to catch up with Downs and Emelio as they went out the door.
"I can't wait to hear you guys tell your dad you want Fred sent out here," Kris said.
"I'll leave that to Frank," Joe said, and saw his brother smile. Okay, now for the rest of it. Take it slow, one thing at a time. He looked at Jamie. "Uncle Harold?"
"CPS," Frank said, at the same time.
"Oh, he's Mom's brother," Jamie said, waving that aside. "He's been keeping an eye on me for her since I moved. He really does take it too far."
Jamie…was Downs' niece. Wonderful.
"Downs is going to foster Rita and Eme," Kris said to Frank. "Him and Cata, I mean…um, Cata's his wife, Catalina. CPS is pushing their application through, since they know them already and it's kind of an emergency. Rita and Eme, I mean."
"Did that make sense to you?" Frank said to Mar, who'd been watching everything.
Mar was grinning. "Yes, dear, it did. Because of the nature of the situation, we were able to push things a little with CPS so that Rita and Eme could be fostered here. CPS will be looking for relatives to permanently take them in, but that can take months. We'll be looking into it, too, much more carefully than CPS will, trust me."
"Back up." Joe tossed the tinsel-garland at Kris. "Angel. Rita. Explain. Now."
"You got upgraded," Kris said. Not even a twitch of a smile. Typical.
"Makes perfect sense to me," Jamie said. "I mean, Frank there's an angel and he's your brother, so genetically that means you're an angel, too, my Fluffy Cute Minion." Then she cocked her head. "Y'know, if you're my minion and you're an angel, that means I'm not just divinely appointed, I'm actually Divine. The capital D kind."
"Don't look at me," Frank said to Joe. "I've been lost since the uncle bit."
Joe only stood there. He was exhausted. He hadn't had much sleep the last three days. He'd spent two of those days getting bombarded by the sounds of seven castaways who couldn't figure out how to build a lousy raft.
"And you and your brother have way too much clothes on for angels." Jamie put her arms around Joe and kissed him on the nose. "If I'm going to do my icon right, I really need both of you to —"
"Frank's tired," Joe said firmly.
"I am?"
"You were snoring in the front seat. I heard you."
"A cup of coffee, and I'll be — hey!" Frank ducked as Joe swung his crutch in Frank's direction. "Brothers. See what I have to put up with, Tag?"
"You're looking at it the wrong way, big brother," Kris said. "Think of it as your chance to cheat Josh out of free pizza. He's talking with Eli right now, so you've got plenty of time to plan your attack."
Frank blinked, then slowly started grinning. Joe looked from Kris to Frank, then decided he didn't want to know. But at that moment, Jamie kissed him, and the feel and warmth of her reminded Joe's body, loudly, that he'd nearly died two days ago and it wanted to do something about that, right now.
"Joe, dear," Mar said gently, "the doctor really did say you should rest."
Mar was out of reach of the crutch. Not to mention she could move a lot faster than Joe…probably not a good idea to throw anything…
"Oh, don't worry, Mar," Jamie said, as she led Joe towards her rooms. "It's just a bit of artwork restoration. I'll make sure he's lying down."
