Summary:

Things turn bad when Drake ends up in the hospital because of Josh; a mysterious stalker from Drake's past returns, stopping at nothing to get revenge, perhaps even murder. Drake falls for a sweet girl, but is scared to let her in his heart because of old heartbreaks. Read and review it!

Disclaimer:

Drake and Josh ain't mine.

Note to Readers:

Story: "Party in a Box"

Chapter: "This Is Our Time"; Thirty - Two

Written By: Ginger

Extras:
Italics in "quotation marks" symbolize thoughts of Drake's.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Grammy, hey there, it's Josh."

Josh was on his cell phone, at the moment, as his parents and Drake were talking to the police on the other side of the waiting room.

Neither of the very busy parents had requested this of him, but for some odd reason he'd started to think more like an adult than like his usual teenage self.

"Joshie! How's my little grandson, heh?" the excited and loving voice replied over the phone, making Josh's heart sink at the thought of having to tell her what had occurred.

"I'm… I'm good."

"…Joshie, what's the matter?"

Being truly startled by her immensely perceptive comment, the teenager sputtered out a quick response and returned her with a question of his own: "W—what do you mean?"

"Ya' voice, Joshie! Did Drake hide all of ya' shoes again, or somethin'?"she asked bluntly but out of genuine curiosity, unlike Meghan, earlier.

"Oh no, no, Grammy—Drake didn't do anything to me." he quickly answered, with a little smile peeking out on the edge of his lips, at her ways.

"Wha'd he do?"

"Nothing!" Josh persisted, shaking his head and sighing a deep sigh, as his amused smile faded away again.

"Then what is it? Ya' sound like ya' did when Sheldon passed on."

"… I'm sorry, Grams. I know I must sound upset. But that's only because Drake—well, he sort of had something happen to him."

Hearing the deep and strangely sincere worry in her grandson's words suddenly made Grammy drop her smile and she went on with a voice absent of her usual harsh and comedic nature: "Oh no, Joshie. …What's all this about?"

"His… his real Dad kind of… came back."

May it was because of the exhaustion, or maybe it was because of the stress of feeling for his hurt brother, but the boy's honest answer lacked any of his normal optimism or padding, and at this point he hardly even realize what he was saying.

"What do you mean '…came back'?"

"He—" all at once, Josh lost all reluctance and escaped by himself in to the hall just out side of the waiting room, telling his Grandmother anything and everything that had gone on, with words that rushed so fast that she could barely understand him.

"Oh, Grammy, it's been horrible for him. Right after the accident, his crazy psycho Dad popped up and started stalking him. I knew about it—I knew the whole time. I knew about when he would call Drake and harass him and everything—I didn't know who it was, but I knew that it was happening. I should have stopped him—I should have done something about it, or at least told somebody. …But I didn't. His Dad attacked his girlfriend and now… we're at the hospital with her."

Pausing only to breathe, he went on.

"After he stabbed her, she managed to get back to our house to warn us of him, but he came sooner than we expected. We called the police, but his Dad started beating on the door, and then Drake told me to go wait for the police outside while he held him off."

"Oh dear Lord, Josh, are you two okay? Are you're parents back from that funeral—and do they know about all of this?" she exclaimed, deep panic laced in her words.

"Yes, their back… but how did you know about that?"

"They called me to let me know that they were leaving, a couple days ago. …Josh, is this girl alive?" Grammy spoke, quietly.

"Yeah, but barely. I don't much about it, really—nobody will tell us anything except that she's in surgery." That was all that could say, because honestly he knew nothing else.

"And Drake—how about him?"

It was a long pause before Josh found the words to speak about his brother.

"He's brave." he sighed, going on: "He has got to be the bravest, sweetest guy ever. His Dad used his one call earlier in jail to call Drake's cell and leave a message, and after all he did, he was so syrupy sweet on the message and all—ugh, it was just—just repulsive! Drake got beat up pretty bad in a scuffle with his 'Dad', though. Gosh, Grammy, it makes me feel so bad for him. His ribs are all bruised up and he's hurt… and it's worse than he lets on. He's just not the kind of person to whine or complain to anybody about anything, even if it's really bad. I wish… I wish I could be like him, that way."

A sound in the background made Josh turn around, and he almost jumped in start at meeting glances with his brother, standing directly behind him.

A hot blush of slight embarrassment spread his face, but mostly, he was glad that Drake had over heard him. He truly could never had told him that straight to his face—he would have felt too stupid—and it was almost a relief to let him know what he actually thought.

"Uh… Grammy, what I called to ask you was—Meghan is staying at her friend Charlise's house, and if it wouldn't be too much trouble, would you go and pick her up and maybe keep her for a night? Mom and Dad just have so much stress already, that I thought it would make it easier for everybo—"

With out a moment of hesitation, the kind voice on the other end replied: "I gotcha', Joshie. I'll get right over there-- I've taken Meghan to little Charlise's house before, I should be able to find it easily. Does your sister know anything about what has happened?"

"Not really. Nothing except that there's been an 'accident' of some kind." Josh nodded.

"Okay, then. I'll call you and your parents as soon as I pick up Meghan and head back to my house. ...Take care, sweetie."

"You too, Grammy. …Goodbye."

Josh snapped his cell phone closed and heaved an ample sigh of relief, before turning and sheepishly looking back up at Drake: "I… I, um…"

A quiet and reply came from the lips of the smiling boy a few feet away as he shook his head: "You know, you're really sweet, Josh. …I just wish that all of those things you said about me were true."

"But," Josh exclaimed swiftly and adamantly: "But they are!"

Then he settled back and went on: "I wouldn't just… say it to Grammy for no reason at all."

"I think you're the only one who's brave, brother. And maybe that's the only reason I'm the least bit brave at all." the lighter - haired boy said, throwing his arm around his brother and grabbing him in a soft hug before they both walked back in to the room behind them.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Grammy, could you PLEASE tell me what is going on here?" Meghan finally demanded, after being picked up from her friend's house mysteriously by her grandmother, and as she now sat in the front passenger seat, with her arms crossed.

It wasn't at all that the girl wasn't glad to see the kind lady because as a matter of fact, she liked Grammy a whole lot more than most would think she could like anyone, but after talking to Josh and hearing what he had to say (so vaguely) on the phone a while earlier, she was extremely curious about what had all gone on.

She was tempted as they drove along, to pick up her cell phone and call her brothers back again until they revealed something to her! But no-- she had decided wisely against it.

"Are you really sure you want to know what it is, Meghan? It's not very nice to think about, actually." came the first reply.

"Well, I'll put it this way… Grammy, if you don't tell me what has happened today, I'll personally have to pick up the phone and call Josh and—"

"Okay, okay!" the older woman interrupted, finally going on in her soft Brooklyn accent: "Megs, lemme ask you somethin'. …Do you remember your father at all?"

A very deep frown crossed the girl's face and tightening the knot she had her arms folded in, she stared back up without even so much as a blink: "What about him?"

"You do remember him, then?"

"Of course, I do. I was already seven years old when Mom left him. I was gone all day at school and soccer and oboe practice, but I still remember trying to sleep when he would be downstairs, doing—ugh, anyway what? What about him?" Meghan shook her head in hatred and glared in to the air in front of her as if she could see his face right there.

"He… came back. Or that's what Joshie told me." Grammy spoke, not even finishing as she drove down the road before an outraged Meghan hit the dash - board furiously with one hand and exclaimed her own sentence.

"What?-!" she roared, "So that's what this is all about! It's all about that stupid—"

"He has been stalking Drake for several weeks as your other brother told me, and he… apparently killed you're great uncle Gavin. He meant to kill either one of your brothers, but the only one who got seriously injured was Anita. She's in some kind of surgery now, at St. Schneider's. And that is where ya' parents and Drake and Josh are." Grammy hated being so direct and plain with anyone (very like her own grandson), but she knew that Meghan wasn't one to stand for beating around the bush and that it would be better just to tell her this way.

The deep brunette girl's dark eyes grew large in shock and anger, and her mouth fell open, while everything remained quiet until she finally managed to say: "He killed great uncle Gavin? He came after Drake and Josh, and he put Anita in the hospital?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Drake. …He went after him. Well, of course he would—that makes perfect sense." Meghan was almost too calm as she sighed darkly and sat back in to her seat in the car.

"Why does it?" Grammy only half knew why and was interested as to what the little girl's inside view had to offer.

"Because…" she began, looking toward her Grandmother as they pulled in to her big neighborhood: "He pretended to like me. But with Drake… he hated him. He's always despised Drake—as long as I can remember. He was Dad's main target—and they hated each other so much. But Drake was the only one who had a right reason. He knew what Dad was: a lying, crazy abuser. And that was one thing he couldn't ever stand. Dad wanted a son that would manipulate and love evil like he did, but when he realized Drake was too good to be like him, he made up his mind to hate him for the rest of his life."

"…Are you shocked?" Grammy returned finally, breaking up Meghan's out - loud thoughts, and wondering what she was feeling.

"No. Not really. I mean I'm sorry that this all happened, and I'm really worried about Anita, but I always knew he'd end up doing something crazy like this. It's really horrible. Just… horrible."

She looked very pale and unusually serious as her step brother's Grammy tugged hard on the parking break and the steel - gray Cadillac pulled to a halt in the newly - paved drive way of her home.

In a moment, Meghan got out and walked round the corner of the car and lifted the trunk - door, to pull her suitcase and back - pack from inside, shaking her head one last time in disgust and tough infuriation at the very gall of her so called 'father', before going back up the drive and entering the house with the older woman.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Mindy Crenshaw tapped the steering wheel of her silver convertible to the music playing on the radio.

The dark gray clouds that had been hanging over head, threatening the possibility of rain, had suddenly parted and a yellow streak of blinding, warm sunlight came blazing down.

And as the wind lightly blew her strawberry - brown hair back with a whoosh! Mindy honestly could not find one single fault with this late - afternoon.

Except…

Josh nor Drake, and not even little Meghan had answered the phone that morning. I say morning, because when she had called the house, that's what time it had been. (Though of course, she had no way of possibly knowing that the phone lines just out side of their house had been cut off, just before dawn.)

Josh always answered the home phone when he was nearby. And even Drake hardly ever let it ring more than five or six times. That part worried her a little, but not enough to prompt her to think of calling Josh's cell phone.

After all, she just had to drop off a file folder for the English project that she and her boyfriend had been assigned, and even if their parents had come back home a few hours early or something, she could just drop the papers off, give her Josh a little hello and then be on her merry way until she saw him on their date the next day.

When she rounded the corner and made her next turn, to get in the drive way, she suddenly slammed on brakes and sat staring in confusion.

Two police cars where parked end - to - end in the narrow path to the garage, and several others spilled over in to the grass of the front lawn and the asphalt road before the house, itself. There was even a local cable news van parked in the far corner of the shady lot.

Alarm was (naturally) racing through her mind, as two policemen turned and caught sight of her, departing from the crowd of more officers, detectives and a few interested neighbors to come attend to her as she exited her car.

"Excuse me, m'am, can I help you with anythin'?" the southern drawl laced in this man's Texan - type voice was slow and kind as Mindy tried to recover from the paralyzing shock.

"Please—please tell me what has gone on here!" she spat out, confused and worried.

"I don't think I can really do anything like that, M'am. You see, this whole thing here is kind'a classified."

Before the teenager could speak to explain who she was, the other policeman reached them and asked in a very cocky tone: "What's the problem here, Missy?"

"I—I… nothing! I mean—something. What—what has happened here?"

"Go on and get out of here. We don't need any annoying girls like you screwing up everything." he returned.

"What is going on?" Mindy pressed on, pretending to not care about how mean and blatantly nasty he had been.

"I don't think that's any business of yours!"

Taken aback by he swaggering, rude response from the officer, Mindy bit her lip and stepped back two steps before exclaiming: "Listen here—I'm Josh Nichols' girlfriend, Mindy Crenshaw! I have no idea why the police are at my boyfriend's family's house, and all I ask is that some kind person would inform me!"

The other kinder, Texan officer's face instantly lit up in recognition at the mention of her name—Mindy Crenshaw.

Turning and holding a restraining hand in front of the other man, he exclaimed: "Woah, woah, now—this gal really is his girlfriend. Josh Nichols is the dark haired brother of that Drake—the one who this whole thing's about."

"Oh…" muttered the man (along with some other select words) dressed in dark police garb, turning and walking off, apparently not wanting to admit he was wrong.

Mindy resented the fact that he didn't even attempt to apologize, but then realized that once the friction had been resolved, he had become disinterested and gone to find some other kind of chaos.

"Miss Crenshaw, please excuse him, m'am. He's just temperamental."

"Please, officer, what happened? Who's hurt?" she nodded, frantic and just barely restraining herself from rushing up to the house and throwing open the door to call Josh's name as loud as she could.

"Parker's real Dad went crazy and half - killed his girlfriend. Almost killed him too, and beat him up pretty bad, I heard. The little girl, his sister—"

"Meghan?" Mindy cut in, with big eyes.

"Yeah—she wasn't here. 'At a friend's house or somethin'."

As she looked up at the strong, almost handsome southerner, she could barely force her frightened question off of her tongue: "What about Josh Nichols? Is he… hurt?"

After a momentary pause and a look up at the sky as if he was trying to remember something very hard, the official shook his head and replied: "Naw, that one is okay. He and his brother went on up to that hospital, but just to be there for the girlfriend. She's in some kind'a surgery or somethin'—at least, that's what I heard one of the detectives sayin', over there."

Mindy's hard-pressed breathing broke and she felt her whole body relax in thankful gratitude: "At St. Schneider's hospital? Or—"

"Yeah, that's the one. You go on up there and tell that Detective Becker or Barlow who ya' are—then they'll let you in to see those two, for sure. If you want, you can tell them that Officer Richard Tucker sent ya'—that's me."

Smiling a still - shocked but very thankful smile, Mindy sighed and said: "Thank you so very much, Mister Tucker."

With that, she turned and rushed quicker than ever back to her car and left the Texan cop to himself, so she could find Josh and his brother as fast as possible.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Drake and his brother were sitting amid their parents and even more detectives, sergeants and police officers (nearly a whole room packed full of them), responding to each question that was thrown toward them, though many were rather painful to have to remember.

Drake struggled to answer what was asked of him with a logical response, but it was becoming very difficult for him. Maybe it was the pain flaring up in his ribs, or the lack of good sleep, or the anticipation and anxiousness for Anita to come out of surgery, but he was having to focus all the rest of his sanity and strength on just existing… making questions even almost impossible to answer.

The things the officers were questioning him on were quite various and ranged from Drake's past with the man, to the criminals drug history, to what exactly had happened that day.

...And then came the things that they asked Josh.

His little 'session' with the police was (of course) shorter than Drake's, on account that before the car accident, he had literally no insight on his real father at all.

But no matter what they asked, Josh was ready to supply the best answer he could, because he knew that the more information the law enforcement had against Joe Parker, the easier it would be to keep him in jail.

That is, he was ready to supply an answer, until one officer began to get a little too inquisitive with his sudden, foolish question.

"As far as you know, has Drake your brother ever been under the influence of any type of drug—in the past or present?"

Drake's blank stare at the floor suddenly shattered and his eyes darted up in apparent shock, first to the face of the policeman and then to that of his brother Josh.

"…I'm sorry, excuse me?" Josh asked, frowning deeply and seeming to sit taller in his seat.

"Well, you said yourself that his father was involved with illegal drugs, and it's pretty natural to assume that…" the officer's arrogant sentence trailed off slowly, at the end.

Josh's parents had been talking to another officer in a corner, and had not heard the man's question, but at the tone of Josh's deep voice and the following silence, they began to wonder what had been said.

"Has he? You heard me." the man raised an eyebrow and looked straight back at him, pressing the question even further.

Resisting a deep growl and squaring his broad shoulders, he stared back as well, and spoke in a slow voice that was as firm as an army general.

"Sir, I don't think that you will ever ask such a thing in reference to my brother. It was my belief that the job of the police was to protect the victims of criminals, not accuse them of non-sense. I've seen him harassed by that man day and night until he was nearly out of his mind. So let's keep our criminal lists straight, shall we? As for you question, well… I think that's closed."

Those who knew Josh hardly ever saw the rough side of him, and some didn't even hardly know that it existed, but now with such a flat and cold way he had spoken to a possibly threatening police officer, they saw it. They couldn't help but see it.

"…I—I ap—apologize if I—" the stuttering and ignorant reply of the opposing young man again faded out as Drake himself reached out and took Josh's arm, sitting him back in to his chair, with the soft murmur of his name.

"…Josh."

The light eyed teenager then let down his guard a little bit, realizing that now there was no point in addressing the matter any further and that Drake felt alright about it.

The quizzing went on for a little while longer (if not very successfully, either), until Josh's cell phone began to buzz in his pocket.

(By this time, he had already changed the ring to 'vibrate' a while ago, not intending to let his Oprah ringtone blare out loud in front of all those tough police officers.)

He knew who the caller must be, remembering his Grammy's promise to call either before or after Meghan got picked up. So he quickly answered, still heated from the man's comments about Drake and anxious to escape these annoying questions, about everything.

"Grammy, is that you?"

It was the boy's intentions to say this out loud, so that even his parents could hear and then, with disruption, perhaps it would bring the end to this assembly.

"Yes, Joshie, it's me."

"Oh, good—I'm glad it's you. Did you get Meghan yet?"

"Josh—" his mother instantly spoke, hurrying a few steps over to him: "Your Grammy picked Meghan up?"

Letting a little smile slip to the edge of his lips, he spoke quickly in to the thin phone, "Hold on a minute, Grams," and then turned back to Audrey, covering the receiver with a finger as he replied back: "Yeah, Mom—don't worry about it. I called her and fixed it all up. She said she was happy to help."

"Oh, goodness, do let me talk to her, Josh." she exclaimed, reaching out and taking the cell that was handed to her.

"Hello?"

"Audrey, is that you?" the woman's voice spoke.

"Yes it is! Oh my goodness, I can't thank you enough for doing this—for keeping Meghan, I mean. If it is imposing on you in any way, she could come home and just—"

Oh, nonsense! She's staying with me. And we're going to have a wonderful time too. Besides the fact, you have enough to deal with—Drake, mainly. Is… he doing okay?" Grammy had cut her off with a forceful tone, but slowly softened her way of speaking as she neared the end of her sentence, with the thought of Drake.

"We really—" Audrey began, walking with Josh out in to the hall, leaving her husband with Drake and the police: "Really haven't gotten any time to find out how he is, with all of those… well, kind of annoying policemen around. I just wish they didn't have to bother him. From the answer that he gives to them about what happened, he's been through a major ordeal… and he has to be tired."

"Ah, I see. Audrey dear, I was planning on dropping over with Meghan for a minute—she's been begging and begging to come to the hospital—but… well, I certainly won't if Drake is too worn out. After all, he's had it quite hard enough lately without his little sister and an old lady like me there to bother him."

Suddenly a hand slid the phone from Audrey's grasp and a soft voice spoke in to it: "Grammy, you're not old."

Apparently, the police had finished trying to make a go of the rest of the question session with only Walter and his step son remaining in the room and let them out, because it was Drake himself that had heard his brother's Grandmother speak faintly over the phone and had taken the conversation over, as the officers filed out from the room, behind.

"Oh, Drake." she began, seeming to be extremely glad to hear his voice sounding so near - stable, "You sound well. How are you, sweetheart?"

"Much better, since your Grandson has been helping me. He has very good nursing skills." the way he spoke was still very serious, even though it didn't at all lack the signature playfulness that his step – Grandma was used to, coming from him.

"Joshie is sweet like that. …I was just telling your mother that Meghan has been insisting on me taking her up there to see you two."

"Oh, really?" his question was more just filler conversation, so he could have a little time to figure out why Meghan should want to come.

"Yes, really. Would you be too tired for me to bring her to see you and your parents?" she questioned in return, kindly.

"Oh, no. Go ahead and bring her. It would be nice to see you and… anyway, if I have something to do, maybe I won't think about things so much."

Grammy and all the rest who had heard his sentence knew exactly what the 'things' where, though he made no mention of it; it was a mixture of thoughts about Anita and his father, but really most about her.

"Alright, Drake. …If you're very sure." Grammy returned a minute later, after thinking about it.

"I am. I love you Grammy. Here's Mom again—and… sorry for interrupting your conversation with her." Drake meekly handed the cell phone back to his mother as she rubbed his back for a second with a smile, before she resumed her talk.

After a moment, the dark haired teen looked up at the other boy, standing a few feet away and suddenly moved closer, taking his arm.

When Josh had looked at him, he had had his hand to the side of his head and his eyes were closed. He looked extremely tired and for a split second, as if he were almost too weak to stand up. So his brother had rushed quickly over to him (somehow succeeding to not cause a scene), and catch up his arm, to lead him off toward the elevator at the end of the hall.

With a whisper, he added a concerned smile and spoke: "Come on, you've got to eat something."

Josh's Dad caught sight of them as they started down the hall, and began to speak up, but Josh turned and with only a little knowing wink, calmed his questions.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Drake didn't eat much once they got down to the cafeteria, but to his brother (who was very worried, along with the doctors that Drake might collapse from all of the stress on his body), it was just as reassuring as if he had eaten an entire feast.

Drake had to admit, too, that eating actually did make it easier to stay alert, and it made him feel much stronger (even if it was just a measly sandwich and a bag of potato chips).

And besides the food, it was a good enough thing to get out of that waiting room, because for both boys, it had become to feel a lot like being locked up in a cage.

Now that Drake was out in the open, he realized that it had grown dark outside and the September sky had faded out, and when he looked down at his wrist watch, he was surprised to see that it was almost seven – forty five.

"Man, Josh, she's been in surgery for four hours. Almost five. That's so long…"

It only took Josh a moment to figure out that 'she' was Anita, and that by the voice his brother was using now, Drake was beginning to get genuinely worried and down trodden.

"That might be longer than you would like, Drake, but for a surgery, that's not all so very long. I once knew a girl in school who had a surgery on her spine that was just over eight hours long. So don't worry, Anita will be out in no time."

Drake was truly listening to Josh, but because his mind was filled so much with things to be anxious about, that mostly all he heard was the last part about Anita coming out soon.

"Thanks for the support, Josh," Drake spoke, with a little sigh as he poked at the remainder of his sandwich and went on: "I… I wonder if anybody knows about what happened. …I mean, like—our friends."

Josh was caught off guard for moment and sat in silence, because honestly until now, he hadn't even thought about that.

"Well, gee, bro—" he finally replied quietly: "You know how fast word carries around Belleview High. I wouldn't doubt if they all were just now finding out."

And almost as if written up in a play, at that queue in the conversation, Drake's phone rung on the table, beside his Styrofoam plate.

At first ring, Drake jumped, instinctively assuming that it was only another harassing call, but suddenly the calming thought hit him like a bolt of lightning that he wouldn't be getting any more of those. So with a fearless manner, he reached out and flipped it quickly open, with a:

"H'llo?"

"Oh my GOWSH, DWAKE! I—I—I—OH-H-HH! How howwible! How howwible!"

The lispy, recognizable voice of Lyn shrieked over the speaker.

Drake flinched visibly at it, even though he knew it would only be a matter of time until she found out and threw her hysterical self at him, again.

"Lyn… hi."

"OH, MY, GOSH, DWAKE! You're HUWT, aren't you?-!" she cried, in a tone so hysterical and shrill that anyone who had heard her and not known her would have quite possibly assumed that she had seen her parents shot to death, or something as traumatic as the like.

Looking up at Josh (who wore an amused smile) for a moment, he then answered: "N—no… I'm fine. I'm not the one. Some one must have told you about what my father has done to Anita? She's—"

Before he could finish what he meant to say, she cut in and quieted her yell to a murmur: "Is she dead yet?"

Suddenly, Drake understood something. With such a hatred filled statement as the girl had just made, it was as if something before unsettled in his mind, clicked at once and he gasped: "YOU made that rumor up about my brother Josh and Anita, didn't you?-!"

As fast as he had spoken it, all the hysterical and fake drama fell from her tone and instead came voice that was one deathly afraid of him: "—How—wha—how did you know?"

Whether he was ignoring her question, or if he simply hadn't heard it, Josh couldn't tell, but he could hear every word exchanged next, from across the table.

"Who put you up to that?" and in a deeper growl, Drake went on: "…Who told you to tell me those lies?"

"I… I don't—know." She stuttered, quieter, so much so that the hazel eyed teen had to strain to hear.

"Yes, you do. Tell me, now."

"Alwight! Alwight," her plea followed: "Some guy named Joe cawled me! He towld me he was Anitaw's old boyfwiend and asked if I would hewlp pway a little twick on you. …I thought I could get you back from that girl…"

"That's it! That's all I want to hear! Listen and listen very carefully," Drake finally exclaimed in a tone so forceful that Josh was almost gaping in shock as he finished: "You have done Anita and I a lot of harm—'Joe' who called you was my father, and you made yourself stupid and repulsive, by helping him. You can blame yourself for aiding the stabbing he gave Anita. So I don't want you ever calling me again, you hear me? Never!"

Anyone would expect a normal teenage girl to be in tears of remission and apology after such a truthful and crushing exclamation from him, but the reactions given by Lyn were radically… different.

Oh, not to say that she didn't cry. She cried and cried plenty, but not for him, or Anita and not even for any guilt of what she did. But the only reason she was crying was for her own distorted, twisted self. She was angry at him for calling her on her selfishness; she was hurt because 'that girl' took him away from her, and she was wallowing in miserable pity for herself, on account of all of it.

So, right then, in perhaps the evilest of all thoughts (of those except Drake's father) that day, she wished more than anything that Anita would die. She might have even prayed for her to die, because she wished it so badly, but if she did no one ever knew of it. …Atleast, no one admitted it.

After a most uncomfortable silence, she finally exploded.

"Fine!" she rang out, in a sentence full of spoiled and selfish contempt: "See if I care! I don't care what happens! To ANY of you!"

And for a few seconds before she hung up, Drake and Josh wondered if it had been imagined, or if for a moment she had actually lost her irritating lisp.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The boys finished eating in the cafeteria and decided reluctantly to head back to the monotonous room up a few floors. They linked arms and sighed as they passed through the large archway, heaving a genuine sigh and walking down a long hall, toward the elevator.

Josh let go of Drake's arm and stepped forward to push the 'up' button on the chrome plaque mounted beside the metal doors.

He stepped back and expected atleast one of them to open, but none did.

"Aw, man, people must be using them right now," he mumbled: "We'll have to wait for one."

And so they did. Before long, as the taller, darker haired teenager had predicted, a single ringing noise sounded and the doors of the middle elevator slowly slid open.

The two brothers were, of course, very tired and so while they had been staring at the floor, they hadn't even looked up when they stepped inside—until a sudden, very familiar voice made them snap to attention.

"Josh!"

As the cold steel doors close behind the three in the tiny space, Josh glanced ahead and gasped in return, then speaking quickly to who had spoken to him.

"Mindy! Mindy wha—what are you doing here?"

The slender girl promptly hugged him in a swift (but highly thankful) embrace and stepped backward: "I came because of you—I mean, because of what happened to you!"

Drake stood over in the corner, surveying these activities in quite less excitement than of those who he was watching—he was already having a good enough bout with out Mindy added in to the mix.

And 'what happened to Josh'? Ha! It was just like her to think it all had happened to Josh!

"No bit of sympathy thrown my way, eh?" Drake thought in the very grouchiest of ways, as he looked on at Mindy.

But then, he suddenly shrunk back in humbled humility as Josh spoke up in genuine protest: "It didn't happen to me, Mindy. I'm just counting my blessing of Drake still being alive and well, with us."

"M—Mindy… it was very nice of you to come see us." Drake finally managed after a little quiet, putting fourth enough true effort to give her a thanking, kind smile.

"Oh, no it wasn't! I did it purely for selfish reasons—I was seriously worried about both of you. And that's… why I'm here in this elevator right now." She sighed, laying a hand on Josh's arm: "Josh, how are you guys?"

"Nothing's wrong with me, (especially now that you're here) and Mom and Dad are just in from their travel and they seem to be taking it all quite well. Meghan and Grammy are coming up to see us in a few minutes, so Megs must be okay. But this guy," he turned to look at his brother: "He's worse off than he'll let himself believe."

"I'm okay though," Drake replied as, at last, the elevator reached their desired floor (for it was a very slow moving hospital elevator), and he went on to finish: "But I guess in that way, we're all better off than Anita…"

His speaking trailed off in to a sigh and Mindy and Josh felt very sorry for his anxiety, trading comforting smiles and nods to him before they departed in to the hall way together and started down to the waiting room.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When they finally got there, their plans of sitting down and resting were immediately tossed aside, because everyone who had been tired and slow, sitting and discussing in that room before, were now gathering their things from the table and rushing around, as if readying to leave for somewhere.

The three young people were very confused to say the least and walking up to his mother to barely grab her arm, Drake spoke in urging question: "What's going on? What is all the rush about?"

"Anita—" she only said, hardly even finishing her sentence before darting off with the police: "—She's out."

Only a moment of time did it take for Josh and his brother to figure out what she meant, and even Mindy realized it quickly: Anita must at last be out of her operation.

Suddenly, Drake's thoughts began swirling in his head like an electric current when one flips a power switch.

Was she now conscious? Would he be able to talk to her when he saw her for the first time? If so, what would he possibly say to make her realize how sorry he was about this whole big incident?

Josh knew that the boy should have atleast some time to think, but now was not the right time, with everyone leaving, unless the trio wanted to get left behind and become hopelessly lost.

So gently tapping his shoulder, he reached down and caught his hand, stepping forward and dragging him gently behind.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The very large crowd of people (Drake and Josh, their parents, Mindy, Detective Barlow, Becker, and many more policemen) packed thickly in to all three elevators in the hall and went up ward several, several floors.

Infact, I think it was such a number of floors that Drake himself honestly didn't even know what floor they were on now, when they desired one and stepped out.

Instead of walking all the way down the huge blankly white hall that lay before them, they went only half way down it and turned for a moment to the right so a single knock could be given on the door that stood there ahead, and they all stood waiting for a minute until it opened.

It was the same serious yet soothing young face of Doctor Thorton, the doctor who had tended to Drake earlier, that appeared in the door way and let out a kind smile when he saw him among the large gathering: "Hello gentlemen—ladies. I'm guessing that you've all come after getting word of the end of Miss Prescott's operation?"

"You're very perceptive, Dr. Thorton—and very correct in your guesses, too. Please go to Doctor Reilly and request for us time to see him and perhaps, (if he thinks it wise), the girl." Detective Becker spoke up, of the emergency surgeon, coming to the front of this large group and nodding a greeting as professional and sleek as his own FBI badge.

"Of course. Certainly, I'll be on my way this moment. If only your assembly, here, would take a little rest in the Doctors' lounge while I do?" the twenty-something year old physician asked in return, hospitably waving an inviting hand toward the door from which he'd stepped.

Drake sighed a breath of thankful relief at the very mention of a place to 'rest', but his glad and contented thought was quickly crushed with Becker's pert answer: "No thank you, Thorton—" looking about the bunch as he finished, "I think that none of us need much of a rest. We'll simply wait here in the hall."

Drake resented the man's rather obvious lack of worry about his well being and the kind Thorton was very taken aback at it, himself, but found the words (somehow) to speak up in an extremely awkward voice: "Ah, yes, well… I supposed I ought to be getting over to the Doctor to speak to him, then. I'll be back in a second."

As he turned on his heel and quickly made his exit to arrange the meetings and strode away, Drake watched longingly after him and wished very adamantly that he had such a good excuse as that to escape this overly businesslike federal agent.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Again, it was beginning to seem like a literal eternity before anything at all had happened in the hall.

Drake and Josh were very tired and were standing together, quietly leaning against the wall.

No one had anything to say, so the wait for the doctors was very uncomfortable—both in psychical weariness and in the rigid silence that had taken over.

Poor Drake took up his own quiet time by staring longingly past his dark - haired counterpart, at the warm looking door way of the lounge, seeming to be calling to him. It was only now when the comfort of a seat and a place to sit down was being deprived of him, that he actually wanted to sit.

Mindy was standing a little bit in the middle of the crowd, near Drake & Josh, and was watching down the hall for any sign of those they were waiting on.

Josh's thoughts, however, were focused on his brother, for the moment. He was seriously struggling with a growing dislike of the main detective on the case, Detective Becker—and even a growing dislike of really, the entire police force.

The thing earlier about trying to pin Drake with drugs made him angry enough, but now that Becker had the audacity to make the poor, tired teenager stand in a hallway, and decline him even a place to sit—well, to say the least, Josh was getting quite a bit irritated with the FBI and everyone else in charge of this business.

Infact… the more he thought about it, the more he saw how wrong that their having to wait here really was. And the more he reckoned with himself, the more he seemed to decide to speak up (in a very heated way) about it.

"Why aren't Mom and Dad saying something?-!" he exclaimed to himself in his head, beginning to get dangerously carried away his frustration, as one tends to do sometimes, when they haven't had much sleep and are under a lot of strain.

"They should know how much he has been going through!"

The thoughts continued to flow through his had, until at last, he could contain himself no more.

Perhaps it would have been better for everyone if he had only kept to himself and remained silent, but as it was, he lost all control of his tongue and turned suddenly, looking straight up at Becker and blurting out the most horrible thing he could come up with.

"Well, why don't you just go buddy up with Drake's Dad, in prison? You obviously don't give a hang about what is going to happen to him, either!"

This was one of those times when you say something so suddenly that you begin to wonder if it was actually you who had said it: and when you realize it was you, you are instantly seized with the urge to run away out of shame.

His parents were apparently very shocked by his outburst, (along with Mindy and most of all, Drake), but no one said a word, only waited to see what the other man's reaction would be.

Becker's response was almost as unexpected as Josh's sentence had been, but even stranger was the fact that for a long time, he said nothing, but only stared back in to Josh's face with look a Federal agent alone could possess, not blinking and not moving.

But when he did finally speak, he said in the scariest, yet simplest of tones, only a few words.

"Josh Nichols… there are things about the FBI that neither you, nor anyone else will ever understand. Some are very pleasant, and others are very terrible. Remember that."

Josh didn't know what he was actually talking about—if he was explaining his bad manners, or if he was making a threat—but whatever he had meant, the boy didn't dare speak another syllable more back to him.

And as if by some strange magic, down the hall coming towards the group at that very moment, were Doctor Reilly and Doctor Thorton, saving them all from any more tension filled rows.

Drake wished that he and Josh could only get out of that hospital. He knew that Josh was under a ton of pressure and stress about him, and he really hated it—he had always hated seeing smart, sensible Josh loose his head on account of him. But at the same time he knew that they couldn't leave until he had seen Grammy and Megan, and more importantly Anita.

"Reilly, I'm glad to see you." Barlow said, in the place of his still stirred up fellow detective, reaching out and clapped the surgeon in a kindly handshake.

"Same for you, Barlow." came the tired, (but just as kind), smiling answer.

All at once, Drake got enough strength and courage to step up a little and say what were in his immediate thoughts: "Excuse me, but please—Doctor Reilly, I would really, really appreciate if you could tell me all about my friend."

The doctor looked up and gazed across to see who had spoken, and when he saw, a look of astonishment and soft worry painted his face: "Of course, son. But, Becker—" at this, he wheeled around to look at the younger man: "Why hasn't this boy rested? Look how peaked the color in his cheeks looks! Ah, that should have all been attended to."

His reproach was simple enough, but his wiseness and authoritative frown made the man shrink back and stutter out a prideful and sulky reply: "There—there were things that needed doing…"

"Nevertheless, he shouldn't have been kept standing on his feet for such a length. Come on now, Mister Parker—Mr. Nichols; we can all talk in the lounge."

This put Becker in to a silence and as they all hurried in, to sit down in the warm room and Reilly was introduced to the boys' parents and Mindy, he stayed that way.

The relief that Josh had about his brother having a rest was almost the same as Drake's own, when they all settled in to the cozy seats and slowly began their conversation.

"Excuse me if I'm a little slow in explaining myself everyone, but I am quite tired after Miss Prescott's operation." the physician said with a sigh, as he sat back and with a knowing nod from the others, started his story.

"Well… the surgery went very smoothly. No complications whatsoever. It was successful, and I hear from the anesthesiologist that she is beginning to wake up, now."

"…Doctor," Drake asked, again finding the words to speak, yet cautious not to interrupt him: "I know this has got to sound pretty stupid, but… what—what did he do her? I—I mean what did you fix?"

He sounded very annoying to himself, but his sentence had a completely different effect of the Doctor.

Looking over to Detective Becker again, with that same face full of sternness, he said: "You didn't tell him? No one told him? Becker…"

"I—I…" this time, he had no explanation for his selfish actions.

Maybe now that his proud arrogance had been displayed for them all, they all more or less agreed with the way Josh had been thinking about him, even in the fever of his moment.

Becker was one of a strange kind of people. They're the individuals who have moments of genuine kindness and true niceness, unmarred with any underlying manipulation, but on the other had have moments of selfish pride and unhealthy anger.

But Josh and Drake had already been thinking after observing him, and the conclusion they shared was that with someone of that nature, it's best to ignore them when they are acting wrongly and leave it at that.

So, (as he had figured this out as well), the emergency surgeon only shook his head and turned back to Drake: "I apologize for the lack of communication about Miss Prescott. You shall be told everything."

At this, Drake let out a long breath and then leaned forward; making sure he would hear every word: "Thank you so, so much. …Tell on."

"Well. Really, the injuries were not nearly as bad s they were assumed to be. At first, we thought he may have hit her actual heart, or one of her vital organs, but he hadn't. …It seems to me, that he kind of--" he sat in the edge of his seat and drew his hand in to a fist, brushing Drake's shoulder in illustration: "—Flew in to he shoulder with the blade (just perhaps a centimeter or two deep), between her collarbone and arm. He did hit a vein—excuse my words, but that is what caused much of the blood, for the most part."

He continued on in his explanation.

"She lost a good deal of blood through that vein, so we gave her a small transfusion and closed up the wound in her shoulder. Or… wounds, I should say. He apparently had quite a struggle with her, and so there were multiple lacerations in the same place. The only other thing was a long cut from he made from her shoulder blade to her waist, near her back. We had to give her about one hundred stitches there, but as bad it sounds, she should heal completely and have no real scars."

The man paused for a long minute, to let Drake's mind slow and let this new information sink in before he finished.

"That cut on her back was deeper than the others, and it may hurt her to move a lot for the next month. She'll be able to go home in possibly a week, so don't worry."

"…Wow. I…I'm just so glad it's not any worse than it is." Drake shook his head, with a visibly less colorful look spreading his face and then he quietly asked: "Why… did she keep blacking out at my house, right after we found her?"

"Loss of blood. For that alone, she may still feel light headed or faint with too much activity, for around two weeks. She'll have a rough time getting back to eating like usual because of it, but she should be completely healed before two - months' time has passed."

"See, Drake? She'll be better soon. And just before the Christmas season, too!" the cheery voice came in sweet enthusiasm: "Doctor, we thank you very much for the care you've taken with her. If you had not been as swift as you had, well…"

Drake finished his Mother's sentence with a truthful statement of his own: "She would have bled to death. She was near that point when she got here… but you've made her alright. …May I thank you too, with all of my heart, Doctor Reilly?"

"It wasn't I who kept a cool head through this and would have fought Satan himself for her life. …And it wasn't I who had such a caring love for my brother to help him fight, either."

With that and a knowing look at the two teenage boys who sat beside each other, he turned and all of the grownups crowded around him to talk about many things, while they and Mindy sat alone, left to think about what he had said and to shake off as much sadness as they could.

Drake knew Anita's body would get better for certain now and he knew that he'd not loose her to death, but the growing depression building itself inside him continued to remind him that it was entirely possible that he could loose her love.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The Doctor made it clear that no one could see Anita for a while, because as of now she was just waking, and it would be quite some time before she would be awake and fully settled in her own hospital room (because now she was waking in intensive care).

That was really more than alright for everyone, though, because they all had things that they needed to do.

The two detectives (Barlow and Becker) disappeared from the room for a long time, and no one much noticed they were missing until they came back in, through the door.

Drake, (who had become very quiet in the past hour since they'd been in the lounge), looked up with curious eyes at the familiar policeman that had come along with them, to whom they were whispering quietly and spoke up.

His voice was tired, but still steady in feeling: "What is it, Detective Barlow?"

Becker was obviously offended that Drake had addressed his assistant and not himself, but the boy really was so exhausted that he didn't take notice of him.

"Nothing really bad, Mister Parker." Barlow began, in a returned voice, at which now everyone stopped talking to hear what was being said.

"It's just," he went on, "That we have gotten word that the plane Miss Prescott's parents were coming in on had been delayed because of a bad electrical storm."

A murmur of distress ran among one and all and Becker stepped up finish the details: "Which should holdup their getting here until later tonight. Perhaps even midnight."

Drake groaned and melted back in to his seat as the others asked more questions concerning the flight.

"How much worse can anything possibly get?" he thought, then wishing almost to take that thought back. …Because perhaps he didn't actually want to know how much worse.

Atleast, maybe now he didn't have to worry about what he would say to Anita's parents, for a while.

…He knew that would definitely be a delicate situation, and that had had to be as honest and truthful about his father as he could, no matter what they thought or said about it.

The possibility of the Prescotts blaming him with this whole ordeal was still causing him great anxiety, but he had decided to bear whatever they felt with as much kindness and respect as he could.

Little did he know as he sat deep in the plush arm chair of the coffee lounge and bit his lip in swirling thought, that not more than three feet away from him, in his own chair, Josh was almost as upset for him as he was distressed over his own circumstances.

Neither one of those two boys knew very well that the other was really thinking more about their brother than of themselves; but perhaps before long, they would find it out… and they soon would.