"It's not a good idea for you to go back to school," Fenton Hardy said slowly as his son picked nervously at the gauze on his wrists.
"I want to, Dad."
"Joe, no."
"I'm not gonna do it again."
Laura Hardy reached out to touch her youngest son, but he shied away. He didn't want to talk, didn't want the mush; he just wasn't good at sentimental stuff, and everything felt awkward around his parents.
It's like we're always waiting for him; we're just not complete.
"Sweetie," Laura murmured, "college just isn't a good idea right now. So much pressure, and all those new kids who may not understand…"
"Understand what Mom? That I'm crazy? You don't understand, and I don't understand, and Dad and Aunt Gertrude don't understand, so why is it crucial that they do?"
"Joseph," Fenton warned, but it was a half-hearted admonishment because he knew his son was right and was too tired to try to convince him he wasn't.
Laura sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Honey," she said slowly, and Joe knew what was coming, "we've had a really hard time with losing Frank too…"
"I don't want to talk about Frank," Joe's voice caught on his brother's name as he remembered the "conversation" he'd had with the dead teen and suddenly felt the urge to scream.
"But that's why you did this…"
"Leave Frank out of it! No one made me do this! I wanted to, okay? I'm a self-centered psychotic wimp. Leave me alone."
"That's not a way to talk to your mother," Fenton snapped as Laura winced at her son's outburst. "She didn't say that anyone made you…"
"I don't want to hear it. I don't want to talk about him. Or counselors or medicine or how everyone misses him and I'm a selfish bastard for trying to hurt myself and make it all about me, and I don't want to hear that it wasn't my fault that Frank died. Just leave."
Laura turned away so her son wouldn't see her tears; they came too fast and too easily these days. She didn't know how to tell him that she understood, didn't know how to tell him that if he'd see a therapist and go on medication all of this torment would go away. Or at least enough that he could begin to rebuild himself.
But he wouldn't, no, couldn't see past that night.
I wake up wanting to scream, his suicide note had read, feeling his blood on my arms, paralyzed with that same terror I had as we waited for help, help we knew wouldn't get there in time. No matter what you say, I know the truth. I killed him. I do love you.
I just love him best.
Joe curled up on his bed and covered his ears, shut his eyes, blocked them out. He didn't want their support; was too far gone to understand it.
And Laura was just too drained to deal. She'd buried one son. She was watching the other kill himself.
She bent, kissed Joe's forehead, then quickly left the room, fumbling through her purse for tissues and Valium. Fenton patted his younger son on the back, then reluctantly followed.
When Joe opened his eyes they were gone.
Just like magic. Just like Ghost Frank. Maybe they're a hallucination too. Maybe I really did die and this is my own private hell.
He sat up, placed his bare feet on the cold linoleum and trekked across the floor to the barred windows on the opposite side of his room.
Never thought I'd end up on the opposite side of the bars. They're jailing me in, trying to keep the suicidal psycho from nose-diving out the window. Should have done that to begin with, instead of taking the risk of getting caught before losing enough blood. Stupid, stupid me, never could plan anything…
"Why do you have to be so damn impulsive?"
"It worked, didn't it!"
"Yeah, you got us information, but you damn near got yourself killed!"
"But I didn't. I'm here."
"You're not invincible Joe."
Joe sighed and leaned against the metal, unable to reach the glass beyond.
The real cage is my mind. I'm trapped underground holding my dying brother and knowing that I'll never be whole again.
"No, you can't jump," the voice snapped.
Joe spun around in shock and found Frank standing behind him.
"Even if the bars weren't there, you couldn't jump. I'd go sound the alarm."
Joe only debated for a moment whether or not he was real, then decided it didn't even matter at this point. "I wasn't going to try," he said tiredly.
"Well, get away from the window then. There's nothing to see down there. You'd be better off thinking about how cruel you're being to Mom and Dad."
"I'm not being cruel."
"You are so. They love you. They're trying to help you."
"I know that."
"What's your problem then?"
Joe turned to the window again. I don't know. I don't deserve it, I guess. Frank's ambulance came too late. Why did mine have to be on time?
"Can you fly, Frank?" he changed the subject. His brother chuckled.
"I'm a ghost, not an X-man."
"But what if you fell?"
"I'd have a nice long drop down, land nimbly on the pavement, pick myself up, and walk to the elevator in the lobby so I could come back up here and bug you."
"You can't fly or transport yourself places or
anything? How do you get around?"
"Same as you do."
"How'd you get here?"
"I rode in the ambulance with Dad."
Joe started and whirled to face his brother. "You were there for everything?"
"I told you I was. I'm the one who got him."
"What do you mean?"
"I saw you flipping out and wrecking my room and I saw you find the pocket-knife and I ran to get Dad to check on you."
"You can do that? I thought you said only I can see you."
"You can. But sometimes if I stay near enough to someone and talk enough I can get ideas to pop into their heads, and Dad's idea was to go and check on you. Good thing."
Joe sighed and crossed the room slowly, slumping down on the bed. "Frank?"
"Yeah?"
"How come you're different?"
"Different? As in dead?"
"No. I mean…sarcastic, I guess. And you keep giving me riddles instead of answers. It's not like you."
Frank smiled, but it was a nice, gentle smile, one that Joe had seen nearly everyday during his eighteen years and had come to violently miss in the last two months, the stable, assuring smile that let Joe know that Frank cared.
"I'm here to help you heal, Joe. To help you be strong again. I can't be with you forever and I can't get you to depend on me to do things you'll have to do on your own once I'm gone."
"When are you leaving?"
"Don't worry about that. We have lots of work to do and plenty of time to get it all done."
"Work?"
"Yup. Starting with college."
"They're not gonna let me go back."
"Yes they will. But you have to get out of here first. And to do that you have to be on your best behavior and see a shrink."
"I don't want to."
"You have to. You will."
"Will you be with me?"
"I'm always with you."
"Will I be able to see you though?"
"Depends."
"On what?"
"On whether or not I think you need me."
"I do need you."
Frank came and settled beside his younger brother.
"No, you've convinced yourself that you can't take a breath with me gone, but that's not true. You're stronger than you think. You just need to remember that."
Joe swallowed, hard, taking it in, swallowing his words and adding them to the emotions churning inside him. He shivered.
"Frank…if I tell you something, will you act like you used to?"
Frank just looked at him, but his eyes were kind. "Go ahead."
"I'm scared."
Frank patted his hand, and Joe felt a wisp of his brother's cool touch. His hands weren't solid, but he distinctly felt something on his skin, so faint he could almost be imagining it.
"Haven't I always been there for you when you felt like this? That's not changing now. We're going to get through this together. Like we always do."
"Did," Joe murmured sadly.
Frank reached out and grasped his brother's hand in his own. "Do."
The brothers shared a moment of silence, then Joe sprawled back across his bed. He was tired, but he refused to let himself sleep. The nightmare would be waiting. "Thanks, Frank."
"That's what I'm here for. And we've got to get to work."
"Now?"
"Now. When was the last time you slept?"
"The first night I saw you."
"That was awhile ago. You should sleep."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
Joe looked away, the bars looking horizontal with his head turned. A ladder. Maybe I can climb up and out of here.
"I have nightmares."
"Of that night?"
Joe turned and stared straight into his brother's handsome face. "About the whole case."
Frank nodded slowly. If he could still dream, he would have them to.
