CALEB: indignantly That's IT? Man, this chapter was SHORT. Must you insistently bore us with chapters like these until they get rescued?

Hmmm… it is probably a good thing than that you don't sign my paycheques, Caleb. Oh wait – I forgot – I don't get paid for doing this… Phoenix

:O

Cold Spell

Chapter 22

"I really wish you wouldn't spend so much looking at that." Frank's voice startled Joe out of his thoughts.

The brothers had gotten back from a depressingly unsuccessful fishing trip almost an hour ago, and while Frank spent his time poking around the fire, Joe had pulled out the detective magazine and was staring at the cover, again.

The younger boy knew it bothered his brother but he couldn't help it. All day he'd been thinking about his father, and when they got back he needed to see his face.

"I'm sorry," Joe muttered absently, as he wished he had a picture of their mom, too.

"No, you're not," Frank's voice sounded irritated, and Joe looked up at his brother, surprised a bit, as he'd thought they'd come to some understanding over the photo. But then, he amended, they had never finished that conversation….

The dark-haired boy crouched down by the fire again, and Joe took an appraisingly look at him as Frank poked at the smoldering pit with a longish piece of arctic willow.

The older boy had a perpetual tiredness about him, probably a mixture of stress and fatigue, Joe speculated, as dark circles under his eyes and the forecast of a five o'clock shadow gave him a haunted, almost surreal look.

His face was thinner, gaunt against dark eyes that appeared sharply in contrast to his pale face.

He's lost weight, Joe thought, surprised, but then glancing down at how loosely his own clothes were fitting, he realized, but then again, so have I.

Almost two weeks of meager meals and physical activity were eating their bodies' reserves; and while they weren't actually starving, they weren't really that far off.

Joe wondered if his own countenance was as grim.

He sighed, "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."

Frank looked at him. "Yes, you would have. You say things all the time that you don't mean." His tone wasn't bitter or irritated this time, more defeated than anything else…or maybe just exhausted.

"That's not fair," Joe retorted, although he didn't really have the energy to get upset. The trip to and from the fishing pond always took the good out of him, a further testimony to how weak he'd become since the crash. "So do you."

The muscle in Frank's jaw twitched and then relaxed as he let out a weary sigh and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess we both do, don't we?"

"I understand that you're not comfortable looking at Dad's picture…" Joe started, "but it's not fair for you to tell me I shouldn't, just because you can't."

The older boy pursed his lips and appeared to give it some thought. In truth, he was just trying to figure out how to word this without it turning into a full-blown argument. Like Joe, he didn't have the energy to go another round of Hardy versus Hardy. Finally he just decided to be blunt, tact took too much work right now. "It isn't healthy."

"For who?" Joe asked; his eyes narrowed shrewdly, "Me or you?"

That caught Frank by surprise and Joe couldn't help but smile and shake his head. "Oh, big brother. It isn't any more unhealthy than looking at you. It's just different."

Frank cocked his head to the side and screwed up his face, remnants of an almost-forgotten conversation filtered back to him….

It's just eerie…looking at the picture, seeing him but not seeing him…it's hard to explain….

…Maybe it doesn't bother me like that, because I'm used to seeing things that way….

"What did you mean?" Frank asked suddenly.

"What?"

"When you said that looking at a picture of Dad – seeing him but not seeing him – didn't bother you because you're used to it? What did you mean?" Frank's face was curious. And his curiosity grew as he realized Joe had deliberately side-tracked him out of this conversation the last time.

"Oh that." Joe blushed and turned away, suddenly finding the corner of the cover very interesting as he curled it around his finger.

"Yeah that. Maybe if you told me, it wouldn't bother me so much whenever I see you looking at the photo," Frank admitted.

Joe sighed, and chewed his lip. And then he said, "'Cause I look at you and I see Dad…that's what I meant. So what difference does seeing him in a picture make?" His voice, almost a whisper, sounded loud around them.

Frank was stunned and just stared open-mouthed at his brother for a few moments. Yes, he knew that he looked a lot like their father but it had never really occurred to him before that when Joe looked at him, that he ever saw Fenton Hardy. And he wasn't sure how he felt about that…or even how he was supposed to feel.

The younger boy waited for his brother to say something. And then when he couldn't take the silence for another minute longer, he said, "I'm sorry, Frank."

Breaking through his shock, Frank moved next to Joe and sat down beside him. He looked over at the picture and then held out his hand. Joe gave him the magazine.

Frank stared at it for a long time but still didn't say anything. And when Joe opened his mouth to apologize again, unnerved by his brother's reaction to his confession, the older boy stopped him.

"It's okay, Joe. I guess I never really thought about it like that before," he said softly. "I mean, I know I look like Dad, hardly a new acquaintance goes by without mentioning it…but I guess I never really realized before how difficult it must be for you sometimes to see it all the time. Especially when you're mad at him or…or now…"

Joe looked at his brother, his turn to be shocked, but recovering quickly, he refuted vehemently, "Oh God no, Frank! It's never been difficult for me to look at you! Oh you silly…silly…person! Don't you get it yet?"

Frank shook his head, unsure of what he was supposed to get, except a headache from trying to keep up with this conversation.

"Yes, I see Dad in you, that's pretty obvious, just as I'm sure you see Mom in me—"

Frank nodded his head; he did see a lot of Laura Hardy in his brother, especially in certain facial expressions. Joe continued.

"But this has nothing to do with that! I'm just trying to tell you that I can gain some comfort from his picture because I can look at it and see faith and confidence in our being all right, and then…" he looked at his brother, his eyes suspiciously bright and he reached out and touched his arm, "and then I can touch you…and feel it."

The older boy blinked hard, overcome with such strong feelings for his younger brother that he felt staggered, and he placed his mittened hand over Joe's colder one, as he said, his voice hoarse with emotion, "Thanks, little brother…."

Joe gave the hand he held another little squeeze and they sat together for a little while, in an amicable silence, and then Frank sighed, "I…I think my nerves are shot to all bloody hell."

"Probably," Joe admitted with a small smile. "You really don't do well with helplessness."

"Hey," the older boy scolded lightly, "that's your job. You're the impetuous one…the one with a fidgety bottom!"

Joe gave a little snort and then grinned, "True, but I'm used to feeling helpless!"

"Oh little brother," Frank laughed, "you are anything but helpless…even if you've just left yourself so wide open it's not even worth me saying anything!" As he felt Joe squeeze his hand a bit tighter, he added, "And where are your socks? Your hands are freezing! You've got a cold – do you really want pneumonia?"

The blond teen grinned even as he fished out the pair of socks he was using as mittens, having forgotten about them until Frank mentioned them. "You know as well as I do, weather has nothing to do with pneumonia – it's a viral infection of the lungs!"

"That sounds like the voice of experience speaking," Frank teased, glad to feel the tone lightening up; and even more surprised to see that his own mood was, as well.

"Well as a matter of fact," Joe boasted, "I've been known to have had a case or two in my time."

"Five times, kiddo! You've had pneumonia five times in seventeen years! Dr. Bates says you've set your own best personal record among his patients!"

Joe scowled, but its effectiveness was lost by the mischievous glint in his eyes. He gave up and laughed. "Okay, so I might have outdone myself on that—"

Frank laughed, as he cut his brother off. "You 'might have outdone yourself on that.' Kiddo, I think you outdo yourself on everything!"

The younger boy shrugged. "Do you want me to change?"

His brother smiled affectionately at him. "Never."

"Cool," Joe said, inwardly relieved – that question had set him up pretty badly. He trusted the answer his brother would give, but still it had scared him just a bit. That's a lot of power to give someone…asking them if they would want you to change.

"In that case," Joe continued, "why don't you go lie down for a bit, you look tired. I know how taxing fishing can be."

As if on cue, Frank stifled a yawn and ignored the tease. "I need to make us some supper first."

Joe stood up and extended his good hand to pull his brother up. "I can make us something."

Frank feigned shock, and Joe swatted him lightly across the top of the head even as he shooed him towards the burrow entrance. "Come on, with what I've got to work with, how the heck can I possibly screw it up?"

"Oh I don't know, little brother," Frank said, pulling back one of the door flaps and crouching down. "Surprise me."

The younger boy stuck his tongue out at his retreating brother before he turned back and looked at the fire.

"Okay, let's get this straight right now," he quipped, eyeing the 'stove,' "You give me any trouble and I'll be forced to exterminate you with extreme prejudice…. I know where the water bowl is and I ain't afraid to use it!"

From inside the burrow he heard his brother's laughter and he smiled to himself.

Mission accomplished.

Bending down to scoop up the detective magazine from where it had fallen, Joe looked at the picture once again and then tossed it into the fire.

He didn't need it anymore.