A/N: Sorry it took so long to update (what? A month?) My brother's been sick, in and out of the hospital and all that. He's just getting well enough to yell at me about not updating anything.

"When angry, count to four. When very angry, swear." Mark Twain

Frank sat down next to Joe. On his other side was Chet. Biff sat next to Joe and John, Carrie, and Tony sat across from the four of them.

The group resolutely stayed away from that. Biff talked about his baseball scholarship that he had just won. Frank knew that he wasn't saying how hard it had been to get the scholarship since the school wasn't participating in inter-school sports this year.

Tony followed this news up by saying he was going to CalTech. Frank reached over and clapped him on the back, grinning broadly. They all knew that Tony was a great student -- all honors, and the top grades in the school for math and science. But CalTech was elite, and Frank knew it had been his friend's dream to go there.

The waitress came over then, a slim girl with short red hair and horn-rimmed glasses. She looked over at them, a slow smile appearing over her features as she saw six guys, five of which appeared to be without girlfriends. "Hi, I'm Becca, what can I get ya'll?" she spoke with a slight southern accent that made her seemed softer.

Frank relaxed slightly. He knew right then that Chet had been right by suggesting they go out of Bayport for the evening. They had driven nearly an hour away to Little Egg Harbor, found a small family-owned diner and hunkered down. No one here was obsessed with the shootings, and no one was agonizing over the trial the next day.

The one Frank (might) be testifying at.

Carrie ordered for them all. The girl had accompanied John and seemed totally unaffected by the fact that she was the only female there. Callie had yet to acknowledge Frank again since their breakup and Vanessa's family had moved. A lot of people had moved, especially those who had lost someone.

The waitress left with both Biff and Chet looking after her. Frank had barely glanced at her and Joe hadn't even looked up, yet another testament to his changed personality. The old Joe was a flirt, talking to every girl that walked by. And he never passed up one that was cute. Now Joe was looking at his hands, turning them over and looking at them a different way. He didn't meet anyone's eye and didn't join in the conversation.

Frank sighed and focused on his friends. He wondered in the back of his mind what he would do about Joe, who had just jumped as the waitress set down the drink glasses. In four months they hadn't taken on a case, which was the most amount of time they had spent without one since Frank was twelve.

"Where are you going, Frank?" They were still talking about colleges, and John's eyes were on him, a slight smile on his face. They all knew that Frank had been accepted to five different places -- University of Delaware, Penn State, Brown, NYU, and ACCC. He hadn't told anyone his final decision yet.

Taking a deep breath, Frank mentally braced himself -- now was as good a time as any. "Well…I was thinking about waiting a semester, maybe stay around home and take some courses at the community college."

To his surprise, this statement was the one that drove Joe from his silence. "You what?" Joe asked, his voice an octave higher than it usually was. "When were you going to say something?"

Frank turned to him, his hands automatically held up in front of his body, trying to show peace. "I know, Joe, I was just thinking that you might --"

"Might what, Frank?" Joe asked, quieter now as both he and Frank resolutely ignored the fact that that brief outburst had caused Joe's breath to quicken. "I can take care of myself here, Frank. I'm --"

"Don't even think about saying your fine." It wasn't Frank who said this, but Biff. Biff turned in his seat so he faced Joe, his dancing grey eyes stormy. "You're not fine, Joe. Not even close. You think we don't notice? You think I don't notice?" Biff's voice was deeper and gruffer than Frank's and Frank could hear genuine concern and compassion in the voice. "You're scared of everything Joe, and Frank makes it better, and you're just going to have to deal with that."

Carrie reached across the table and grabbed Joe's hand, holding it tight in her own small one. "Don't be afraid to ask for help. It's not a sign of weakness. It takes strength to overcome senseless pride." She dropped his hand, a smile coming over her warped features, twisting her face even more. "Stupid boys." She muttered, which made John laugh a little.

Joe ignored them, his eyes still trained on Frank. The fire in them was impossible to miss, even for Frank who hadn't seen it there in four months. "I'm getting better -- I'm getting way better. I can almost keep up with you when we run and I'm not as tired. You deserve to go off to college."

Frank ran a hand through his hair. He had envisioned, at the end of the last school year, what it might be like when he went off to college. He knew that it would be hard on both him and Joe. He hadn't imagined a scenario where Joe would be pushing him to leave. But he couldn't. Joe might be better physically, but he still had nightmares at least three times a weeks and wound up in Frank's room. He still jumped at every loud or unexpected noise. He still jumped at a touch. He still wasn't Joe.

"It's not really your decision Joe." Frank said quietly to his brother. As the food was put down he realized he wasn't hungry.

Joe got into the van. It was just him and Frank on the ride back, since Biff and Chet had gone with Tony and John and Carrie had left early to visit Dave. He watched warily as Frank climbed into the driver's seat. The brothers directly during the rest of the meal.

As Frank turned onto the highway that would lead them back to Bayport Joe said, quietly, "I remember."

He refused to look up, eyes instead focused on the lights that they passed by. He counted them in his head as he continued. "I remember what happened. I remember all of it."

"How long?" Joe cringed at Frank's voice and knew that he was disappointed that Joe hadn't told him earlier. "How long have you remembered?"

Joe shrugged. They had come to him in bits and pieces, disjointed memories that could only belong to the hours he had lost on that day. "I don't know. They started coming back about a month ago." He bit his lip at Frank's huff of annoyance. Or was it impatience? He was too anxious to tell.

"Ummm…." He couldn't remember why he brought it up, except that he wanted Frank to know. Wanted him to know everything. "I've been trying to put them in order. I remember you putting me on the grass outside the school with blood all over your shirt and thinking that I didn't know we were chasing criminals that day." He heard a snort or a choked-off laugh. He couldn't tell which. He was still counting the lights.

"And then you weren't there, and I was worried. Oh." Joe gulped, knowing he'd missed something. "I remember Roffman pointing the gun at me. Straight at me. I knew he meant to hit me, that he meant to kill me. We locked eyes for a second before he pulled the trigger. It was long enough for me to know I was dead, which was why the rest of it didn't make sense."

Forty-seven. Forty-eight. Forty-nine. The lights zipped by on the highway, harsh white against the velvety blackness.

"They put me in the ambulance when I thought I was dead. I remember wondering why it hurt so bad if you had been the one that was shot. I was wondering where you were, and if you were alive when I…died." Joe choked, his count cut off as his vision fogged. Impatient with tears, he swiped at them quickly. Frank made no noise. That seemed to make everything worse.

"It was different from what you'd expect. I only knew I was dead -- for real this time -- because the pain finally stopped. But the first thing I noticed was you on the grass with your shirt all bloody. I was afraid you were dead. And when I tried to call out to you I didn't make any noise." He shivered at the memory, knowing that he was too far away to help his brother and at the same time knowing that he could do something in order to get back to him.

Finally he couldn't take it anymore. Joe turned around towards Frank who was still looking straight at the road as if Joe hadn't said anything at all. "Damnit, Frank, just say something!" Anger, real anger, burst out of him for the first time in…forever, it seemed. It felt good.

"I don't know what you want me to say." Frank admitted, eyes still trained on the road.

"Say…say that you know what it feels like. That everything's alright now. Tell me that I was stupid for thinking I could see you when I'd died. Tell me all of this means something!" He was breathing hard, his 

face screwed up in righteous anger as he raged at the one person who had been beside him the entire time.

Frank pulled over to the side of the road so that they were right under a light. Then, inexplicably, he wrapped Joe in a hug so tight Joe felt his bruised chest protest under the pressure. But he didn't even think of pulling away. "Be angry Joe. Please." It didn't make much sense to the younger Hardy and besides, he wasn't angry anymore. He was crying. Again. "I can't tell you everything's going to be alright because that doesn't fit right now. But I can say I'll be here as long as you need me. I'll be here as long as you're still angry and fighting."

It took the rest of the night for Joe to realize he wasn't the least bit angry at Frank.

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