Ok, so apparently that last chapter wasn't quite satisfactory, but I'll just keep going. Thanks to those of you who did review, and to those of you who read as well! Here's the next chapter, where the boys are actually back together again. Yay!

Disclaimer: arg, it's so hard to remember to do this! None of the characters are mine...unfortunately.

-:-

CHAPTER 4

Frank had not moved for what seemed like hours, but in reality was only a few seconds. His mind was racing a mile a minute, trying to figure out what was happening. It had to be some sort of hallucination. Had he finally lost it, gone off the deep end? Or had his brain dug up some new thing to dream, odd as it was? Had he even woken up at all earlier? The form on the street looked like Joe, but maybe his messed up imagination was just projecting what he had been wanting for so long.

"Frank?" The same voice from moments before penetrated his jumbled thoughts and he refocused on the blond boy sitting in the gleam of the streetlight on the edge of the sidewalk just in time to see a relieved smile stretch across his face.

As the younger one was rising to one knee so he could hoist himself to his feet, Joe beamed. He couldn't believe his luck! "Is that you, Frank? Man, am I glad to see y-"

In a flash Frank was in front of Joe, falling to his knees and grabbing him in a tight embrace before the younger teen was able to let out another sound. Joe could feel Frank's whole body shaking as he wrapped his arms around his brother's shoulders in return. Surprised and somewhat alarmed at the intensity of Frank's reaction, he wondered what had happened while he was gone, especially since he could feel that Frank was a lot thinner than he remembered, emaciated, as if he had been sick for a long time. But he was so glad to see his brother again right now that he didn't question it, just buried his face in the hollow of his brother's neck.

Tears streaming down his face, Frank pulled back, but his hands remained on Joe's shoulders, gripping them firmly as if to hold himself up. His still swimming but suddenly warmer chocolate brown eyes scanned his little brother's face. Joe was a bit thinner and paler than he used to be with faded bruises mottling his skin, and his golden locks were longer, but it was definitely and unmistakeably him. He put his hand to Joe's head, then his arm, before resting it back on the base of the younger one's neck, as if making sure he was real. As he stared into Joe's confused azure eyes he genuinely smiled for the first time in three months.

The grin wavered along with his voice as he whispered, "Joe, I- I can't believe it. I thought you were dead."

Joe, thrown by the emotion in his brother's voice, gazed back into his brother's eyes and saw the pain and despair flash in them as he said this, and the younger brother wasn't sure how it got there. He was too tired to put the pieces together at the moment. He tentatively touched the arm that was still on his shoulder. "But you didn't hit me, bro, I'm okay. See? You didn't even graze me..." He trailed off when he caught a glimpse of this weird look that appeared on Frank's face. His concern deepened."What? What is it?"

Frank's visage turned even more grim now that he realized Joe must not know what he had lived through. Motioning towards the bench only about ten feet away and next to the lamppost he replied, "Let's sit down first." Joe nodded, his exhaustion catching up with him again, but sleeping would have to wait a while. He could tell something urgent was on his brother's mind, and he wanted to relate his own story as well.

Frank removed his hands from Joe's shoulders in order to seize the blond around the chest, helping him up. Joe gently pushed his brother's hands away. "It's okay, Frank, I'm not hurt."

With a slightly offended look that disappeared as soon as it came, Frank transferred his hand to Joe's elbow and guided him to the bench.

Sitting down and facing his brother, Joe waited for Frank to explain what was going on. The overhead light caused the gauntness of the older brother's face and the dark circles beneath his eyes to be exaggerated, along with the hauntedness that still remained there.

Frank hesitated a moment, then began in a quiet, forlorn voice that was rough with emotion. "Joe...we all thought you were dead. You were kidnapped, then trapped in the burning house, and then when the bomb went off...we...everyone was so sure there was no chance you could be..." He paused at Joe's shocked expression, then went on. "We...it's been hard, Joe. Really hard. I couldn't..." Unable to continue he hung his head and seemed to droop under the weight of the recollection.

Joe reeled at this revelation. Dead? They'd all thought he was dead? For all this time? But then it made sense. They hadn't seen what had happened, not all of it. He couldn't even begin to imagine what that would be like, if the whole situation was reversed. It felt like a load was lifted off him only to be replaced by a new one. The guilt he had experienced for allowing himself to become somewhat disappointed in his brother and father when they didn't rescue him was transformed into a guilt for doubting them, and for what they had gone through because of him. But that could all be over now.

Joe reached out and rubbed his brother's back, trying to comfort him. "It's all right, Frank. I was a prisoner for a long time, but I'm back, and I don't plan on going anywhere for a while." He paused, then trying to dispel the tension he quipped, "Well, I would kill for a pizza right now, but that can wait."

At this, Frank raised his head and smiled appreciatively, his eyes shining. Without a word he stood and offered his hand to help Joe up. With a return grin, Joe accepted the proffered hand and rose also, glad to be by his brother's side again. Unexpectedly Frank used the hand to pull him into another quick hug as he murmured thickly, "I really missed you, little brother."

With just as much sincerity, Joe replied, "I missed you too, big brother." After one last clap on the shoulder, the brothers separated and started for the van. Joe sighed heavily, "Man, Frank, you have no idea how bad I want to go home." He gave Frank—who was on the other side of the van—an intense look through the window that was interrupted briefly as they climbed in. "Hey, bro...how are Mom and Dad? Are they okay?"

The dark-haired older brother now seated in the driver's seat shot Joe a glum look. "Well, they're as good as they can be, I guess." He grimaced. "Better than me," he muttered almost to himself. Speaking up again he elaborated, "Dad's spent every day trying to track down Crowe and his men...he wants them in jail for life. But they seemed to disappear off the face of the earth. Apparently not," he spit bitterly.

He started up the ignition and carefully made a U-turn to head back home and drove much slower than before, wanting to drag out his first minutes back with his brother. Frank turned to look at him as often as he could, taking in the sight of his living, breathing brother like a blind man whose vision had just been restored. It seemed surreal that just a little while ago, he'd commanded himself to accept that his brother would never sit there beside him ever again. Did Joe have a clue just how important he was to Frank, how much the simple action of being seated next to him in theirvan meant to the older brother?

Joe studied his brother's unfamiliar face, trying to read him. "What about you? Were you looking for them too?"

Frank felt an overwhelming guilt wash over him. He should've helped his dad, then maybe they could've found Crowe, and Joe along with him. "No...I'm sorry, Joe...I couldn't. I couldn't even think about facing Crowe...because..." He pounded the steering wheel, becoming increasingly angry with himself. "I should've helped Dad search for him. We could've found you! You weren't dead..." The ashamed young man clutched the wheel so tightly his knuckles had turned white. "I'm sorry, Joe. I failed you."

Joe regarded his disheartened brother compassionately. This only showed how different the two were. He himself would've been filled with an all-consuming rage, wanting nothing else than revenge. It would have taken over his life, who he was, and he wouldn't have ever stopped until it was satisfied. But Frank wasn't like him.

"No, Frank, I don't blame you, never. I can understand how bad it must have been..." He was thinking of his first girlfriend and true love, Iola Morton, as he said this, who had been killed in a car bomb meant for him and his brother. That had been a desolate time for him, but Frank had helped him through it, the only one who could. If it had been Frank who had died three months ago, or Joe had believed he had, he would've lost himself forever. Then again, his brother didn't look like the same man he once was either...

Frank smiled weakly. His guilt wasn't completely appeased, but he felt a bit lighter now that he'd heard Joe say out loud that he didn't blame him. Also remembering Iola, he glanced over at Joe in understanding. The love Joe had for Iola obviously wasn't the same kind the brothers shared, but it was just as strong. "I know, Joe."

There were a couple minutes of comfortable, companionable silence as they drove, flashes of light passing over them periodically. Then Joe turned and watched his brother for a few moments, a thought suddenly occurring to him. "Frank?"

"Yeah, Joe?"

"What were you doing out here at this time of night?" The younger brother scrutinized Frank's face as he waited for an answer.

Only just recalling where he'd been going himself, Frank shifted, then spoke in a detached undertone. "Like I said...it's been hard."

Joe tried to make sense of this. Then the inkling of an alarming idea crossed his mind. He knew, in the area Frank was driving, there was a tall, old railroad bridge that went across the river and wasn't used anymore... He had to know. "Frank, where were you going...what were you going to do?" he implored in a distressed tone.

Seeming to catch the note in his brother's voice, Frank quickly refuted with a wave of his hand , "No! No, whatever you're thinking, nothing like that..." He sighed and paused again before responding, "The cemetery. I was going to the cemetery to...visit your grave. I...couldn't sleep, and I haven't really been there yet, so I thought maybe going would..." He peered over at his brother who had a weird look on his face and suddenly realized just how morbid all that now sounded.

Dismissing it for now, Joe all of sudden felt anxious as he caught sight of their dark house and they rolled into the driveway. When they had rolled up to the garage and parked the van, he just sat there and stared at the house. How do you just out-of-the-blue show up at home, seemingly back from the dead? How would his parents react?

He felt a hand on his shoulder and directed his nervous gaze at his brother. Frank smiled warmly. "You ready, little bro?" Comforted and encouraged by his brother's presence, Joe nodded, and they both stepped out and headed for the house.