"Life is pain; anyone who says differently is selling something." The Princess Bride

Four Months Later

Frank worried, not for the first time, that Joe wasn't up for this. First of all, it was nineteen degrees. Joe from a year ago would have taken this as an excuse to skip running and sleep in, happy to wake up an hour later, make himself cocoa, and have just enough time to get to school.

Now Joe was determined to get "better". He always said he had to be better, his blue eyes glinting if Frank ever hinted that Joe might need more time, that his lung was still healing, that he had been shot just under four months ago.

They were standing outside, Frank jumping a little to try to warm up his body that had been so comfortable under the covers just ten minutes before. Next to him, he could see Joe shiver slightly, his ears already turning pink at the cold. Joe's beautiful blond hair hadn't yet grown back more than a short spiky stubble on the top of his head that did nothing to keep him warm.

"You should get a hat, bro." Frank suggested quietly. Joe just shook his head, as if admitting he was cold was admitting weakness and, therefore, defeat.

Sighing, Frank started jogging, hearing Joe start up behind him. His brother's black-and-white view of the world used to be what made him a great detective. Joe always trusted his instincts, while Frank needed hard evidence. Now Frank could sense Joe's view of the world get distorted.

In the last four months, the boys hadn't taken a single case. Both brothers had vowed to "go out with a bang", seeing that they would only get this one last year before Frank went off to college. They had expected to take twenty cases, at least.

October 24th changed all that. Now Joe seemed afraid of his own shadow, though he couldn't even remember why. The younger boy ended up in Frank's bed every night, shaking from a dream he could never remember over something he could not recall happening.

In the last four months, Frank had become distant with Callie, and Joe with Vanessa. Neither had been there that day. They couldn't understand. Frank hadn't seen Callie in a month, not since she had said, in a fit of frustration and anger, that she didn't see why Joe was taking up so much of Frank's time.

They hadn't spoke since, and Frank found that he was surprisingly okay with that. He had to help Joe. He had to help Chet and Tony and Biff and John. He had to help himself.

The sound of Joe's labored breathing made Frank turn around. Joe had fallen behind, his face blue with cold and lack of oxygen, his feet still going through the motions of jogging. Frank sprinted back to him and managed to catch him just before he collapsed.

"Joe!" Frank yelled, the word whipping away on the wind as soon as it left his mouth. Joe's hand twisted in Frank's jacket as the boy tried desperately to anchor himself, to keep himself from slipping into unconsciousness.



Frank was scared. In four months, Joe had pushed himself to the limits, but never past him. His proud brother had taken, grudgingly, to asking Frank to slow down on their runs. Never had he let his condition control him to the point of unconsciousness.

"Don't do this to me, Joe!" Frank heard his voice crack. He turned his body so the wind was to his back, creating a shield for his brother.

Some inner battle had been won. Joe looked at Frank, his eyes once again becoming focused. The first words he choked out were, "Sorry, Frank." Even those seemed to take an indecent amount of energy.

They lay there for some time until Joe's breathing became regular again. Frank held him, debating whether or not to bring Joe to the hospital seven blocks away, whether or not to tell their parents.

In the end, Frank helped Joe to his feet, the other boy looking embarrassed and angry. Frank was sympathetic. He knew that Joe hated feeling weak and this was the ultimate display of weakness.

"You're fine, Joe." Frank said, heading off another apology. Joe always seemed to think it was his fault.

Joe kept his mouth open, the next words out of his mouth being. "His trial starts tomorrow."

Frank didn't even have to ask what he was talking about. It was all over town -- all anyone could think to say. John had called him a week ago on the verge of tears, saying he had been asked to testify against Roffman. Joe had gotten a similar request, though he had no useful evidence to add.

Joe's eyes were hard, his face set and determined for a second before it crumpled. He looked worried and confused. "Did I let him win?" he asked aloud.

All Frank wanted to do was hug him, tell him everything was fine. Instead he place a hand on both of Joe's shoulder's forcing his brother to look him in the eye. "Look at me, Joe." He did, and Frank continued, spitting hair out of his mouth. "You already beat him. You survived, didn't you? That's more than...than some people can say."

Both boys turned away at the same time, both too proud to show tears. Joe continued running first, his pace slower. He was continuing forward. Reluctantly, Frank followed him.

Their destination for the past months had been the same. Roughly three and half miles from their house was the site most of the victims of the shooting. Their run would often bring them in contact with grieving families, confused and angry friends, even some media and press people.

Today was no different. The run took them another fifteen minutes even though they were only two miles away. No way was Frank going to let Joe collapse of him again. They slowed as they reached the graves and memorial. Frank always thought of how close Joe had been to becoming a name on that memorial. Looking at his brother, Frank saw him shiver. Not for the first time, Frank wondered what Joe thought when he looked at this. How do you remember an even you've forgotten?

"Frank! Joe!"



Frank turned to see Carrie Garner walking towards them, picking her way between the graves. In was one of the only times Frank had seen her without John. The two seemed to be attached at the hip.

In was only as she drew nearer that you could see the damage. In the four months, Frank had gotten used to the scars that ran down her face, the deep rift that seemed to divide her face in two. Even the acceptance of her appearance didn't entirely stop the wave of pity he always felt for the girl. Carrie had been beautiful, in the most shallow expression of the word. Her face and body were tanned, her muscles toned, her expression soft. The only bright side was that Frank knew that every time John looked at Carrie, her face was full and perfect. He saw her without flaws. Or maybe he saw past them.

Carrie drew level with the boys. She gently shook Joe's head in a way that would have messed up his hair if there had been any. "Still don't remember anything?" Her voice was bright as she said this, as the words had become a greeting between her and Joe. Joe, in his customary way, shook his head.

"What're you doing here so early, Carrie?" Frank asked, knowing for a fact that she and John visited the site together at least once a day.

Carrie put a thumb over her shoulder. "I was talking to Dave. You know, I was supposed to leave for Boston tomorrow. Finally getting that plastic surgery done." Her face quirked into a smile of the side that wasn't paralyzed. Frank had always admired this in Carrie. She didn't let her fate get to her, just accepted it and moved on. Frank was never very good at it. "Anyway, I needed some advice. With the trial starting and everything, I didn't want to leave John, of course. But this surgery wouldn't be available again for eight months."

"Did Dave give you an answer?" Joe asked, his hands deep in his pockets. Frank frowned, shrugging off his top jacket and laying it over Joe's thin sweatshirt. The fact that his brother didn't shrug it off was testimony to how cold he was.

Carrie nodded. "He said to put John before my looks." Again, the smile seemed out of place, one side of her face drooping. "I had kind of guessed that." She looked down the road, hugging herself. Seeing only the back of her head, her thin form in the grey jacket, Frank would have said the four months had never happened at all.

"You guys going to the courthouse?" Carrie asked. Frank nodded; he had to go. He had to make sure that...monster...was going to be far away from Joe and everyone else he had hurt. Preferably dead.

Four months ago, Frank wouldn't have ever wished someone else dead. Four months ago he wouldn't have to slow down to wait for Joe, wouldn't have to worry about his harsh breathing and wonder if he was getting better or worse. Four months ago, Frank wouldn't have been able to tell you what it felt like, running away from a girl he knew was so much stronger than he was.

I don't know if this is what you wanted. I'm trying to get everything set up for the trial. There will be a lot more angst, don't worry.

Sorry for those of you who actually liked the girlfriends. I know I "killed them off" in a sentence. I just really, really don't like them.

Please review.