"I've seen your flag on the marble arch. Love is not a victory march! It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah." Rufus Wainright

It wasn't two days later when Cathy began following Joe. Once, she cornered him between classes, stared at him with hateful green eyes. "Fix this." She hissed, touching his face in a way that sent shivers up the teen's spine. "Or you'll regret it."

But things were improving. Joe's bruises faded from a startling black-blue to a more hideous color of yellow-green. He laughed more, especially at school, and talked animatedly with Chet about the upcoming Golf season. He didn't avoid Frank in the hallways, something Frank hadn't even noticed he was doing until he suddenly stopped.

While Joe seemed to be waking up, improving with great leaps and bounds, Frank was becoming the opposite. Less animated, maybe, or perhaps just plain lonely. He missed Cathy, even though something inside him knew this was wrong. It didn't help that she started hanging around Joe, making irrational twinges of jealousy erupt in the older brother's chest.

Something was wrong about the way Cathy would interact with Joe, something in the sick expression on Joe's face, or the way her hands seemed to paw at every inch of him, not flirting, not playing. Possessing, as if Joe already belonged to her. Whenever Joe's friends saw this, they'd carefully get Joe away from Cathy, at which point the blond would look at his savior gratefully, thanks all over his face. "Sorry, Biff," Or Tony or Chet or Nicco or the ten other boys who would get him away from Cathy. "I don't know what it is about her."

"She'll get over it. She's just upset that she lost Frank."

"Yeah. I guess that's it."

But that wasn't it. Joe could tell, by the looks Cathy sent him in the hallways, fleeting, fierce, that it was only a matter of time before she intervened in his life again, before she made him suffer for his part in her breakup with Frank. "Frank's mine!" She would state every time she cornered him, which was entirely too often, "You get him back for me, or…" She looked Joe up and down, and for the first time Joe realized that she was taller, that she outweighed him, that he couldn't strike a girl. How was he to defend himself?

She brought her hand down until it was pressing uncomfortably against his crotch. Joe blanched in distaste, tried to get out of her grip without drawing attention from the throng of students. "Do you remember, Joey? Remember how easily I can take you, if I want." She leaned close, seemed to be about to kiss Joe, then suddenly brought up a hand and scratched Joe's face, leaving deep marks.

Before the exclamation of pain and surprise was even out of his mouth, Cathy was gone, and Joe was feeling worse than ever.

He could tell Frank or Biff or Chet or Tony, tell them about Cathy, but then he'd have to tell them about that night, when Joe had been home while Frank was at school and Cathy had walked in…when he was still in pain from surgeries and bullets and she'd laid next to him…no, they couldn't know that. What would they say? What would they think, and say with their eyes? He could already see the emotions: disappointment…disappointment.

And he didn't want Frank to look like that again, not after That Case, when they were in the hospital and the doctor said he'd be able to walk, but never run, no more bad guys and fighting, not if he wanted to walk at all.

And Frank had just stared, and Joe looked at the sheets, eyes burning, fists clenched, and Frank had touched his back, "it's okay, research is important, too. You know Sam…he does so much for dad."

"He does leg work, too, when dad needs back up. Who'll do that for you?" Uncertainty, and Joe shook his head and swore off detecting forever, because it was too painful, like asking a paralyzed football player to coach, even though they could never, ever be in the game again.

So he couldn't tell Frank, or his parents, or his friends. He couldn't tell anyone. Relationships don't last forever. She'll leave for college, right? I'll be okay until then.

It was that afternoon that he began Operation Get Frank Back With Cathy.

"Maybe I broke things off too early." Frank sat with Chet at Mr. Pizza, waiting for Tony to get off work so they could catch a local band that was playing in the park. "I mean, she seemed really sorry for what she did."

"Yeah, but Frank," Chet, always the voice of reason, kept his voice low, yet it was firm, demanded attention. "Remember why she was sorry? She poisoned Joe, gave him way too many pills. You couldn't let her get away with that." He examined his friend and said, gently this time, "I know you thought you loved her, man, but she wasn't right for you."

"How do you know?" Frank asked, watching Nicco make a pizza with everything on it, smoothing out the dough as if it was just that easy to get all the lumps out, to cover up holes. "Everyone deserves a second chance." He looked up, waved to Tony, and pretended to forget about the conversation, about his love, about Cathy.

But love doesn't let you forget, and Cathy sat next to him all day, making sure he smelled the perfume tumbling off her, smelling like pines and gingerbread and winter. She looked at him and, whenever he caught her eye, she would mouth I'm so sorry.

He couldn't take it anymore, couldn't take being so near to her and not be able to do anything about it. One day, he just mouthed back I know.

The next day they were together again, though Frank saw the almost imperceptible frowns on his friends' faces when he told them. Frank didn't know whether to trust Cathy. There had been an awful lot of coincidences involving his girlfriend and Joe. But he loved her, more than just about anything, and couldn't help missing her when she was gone.

"You have to talk to Joe," he told her the afternoon after they'd gotten back together. "I like you a lot, Cathy, but nothing can work out between us if you're not okay with my brother." He remembered the pills, Joe's hand, her words, why do you always talk about Joe? He pushed the thoughts aside and kissed her instead, hoping that he wasn't making a huge mistake.

"Hey Frank." Biff was at his locker, staring around the dark-haired boy to look for the girlfriend. "The succubus around?"

"No, and I wish you guys wouldn't be like that about her. She's trying. Hard." Frank slammed his locker. He didn't know why he was defending his girlfriend to this extent to his friends. He'd never had to do it before. But then again, his girlfriend had never been on the edges of so many unusual coincidences before.

Biff fell into step alongside Frank, and for a moment the older boy wondered why he wasn't hovering around Joe before he remembered that this was last period. Joe had probably already ducked off campus. As if reading his mind, Biff said, "I walked him to the car. Just in case. I think he's taken enough beatings recently." He paused for a fraction of a second, letting his words, the insinuation behind them, sink in. "I know Cathy's coming over to, you know, reconcile with Joe, but I don't think he has to hang around her all night. And I don't think you really want him on your date."

Frank used to double with Joe all the time. Even before his brother had started dating, when he was fourteen and Frank was just beginning to go out with Callie, he'd bring Joe along to the movie and Joe would make himself scarce until it was time to leave again. And Frank had never been uncomfortable about that.

But now, the thought of having Joe and Cathy in one room all night made his head spin. Biff saved him. "I was thinking Joe and I would go see a movie. I don't think he could stand being in the house all night."

"Me and Cathy could leave." Frank said quickly, thinking of his younger brother, who was so sore he'd consented to bringing his cane to school, something he hated to do, thinking it made him seem weak even though Frank knew it made him so much braver than anyone else he knew.

Biff shook his head slowly. "Joe's been cooped up a lot. Plus he feels like you go out of your way to help him." He rushed on, "And I do too, and I know that, and he knows that, but…" Biff sighed, "You're his hero. It's hard for him, especially when he thinks you think he's useless."

"Did he tell you that?" Frank's voice came out harder than he'd meant and Biff stiffened, staring at him.

"Yeah. He's been saying it a lot lately. That he's useless, and a cripple, too weak to do anything." Biff lowered his voice, "He never did that before, Frank. He was so confident, and now all he does is put himself down, and…" He paused, hovering on the precipice, "I think it has something to do with Cathy."

They never talked about each other's girlfriends. It was an unwritten rule; you accept your friend's girls and never put them down, never check them out, and never flirt.

And Frank would have been angry if he hadn't seen this same thing in his brother. "He's in a bad place, Biff. He'll get over it."

He'll get over it. Even to Frank's own ears it sounded cold, distant. He didn't need Biff's incredulous stare to tell him that he'd passed a line.

"I'll pick up Joe at seven. Make sure he's intact until then." Biff turned away from him, leaving a cold space around Frank that said, in silence, that he'd made the wrong choice.

It was an hour later when Frank saw Joe, and he looked terrible. He was sprawled on the couch, laying on his side, his breaths coming out in short gasps as he read A Farewell to Arms. From his position at the door, Frank could see the cane propped on the couch next to Joe. His brother was in so much pain, and Frank didn't know what to do anymore.

"Hey kiddo." He said lightly, ruffling Joe's hair. The younger boy glanced up at him and Frank saw it in his eyes…what Biff had said was true. Joe still viewed him as his hero. How had Frank forgotten that? Ever since they were small all Joe had ever done was follow him, look up to him, try to be just like him. "So Biff wants to take you out tonight." He said, sitting on the couch near Joe's legs, which bore deep red scars from various operations. The doctors had promised that the scars would fade in time, but admitted they'd always be visible. A constant reminder of Frank's mistake.

"Like a man-date?" Joe smirked from over the top of his book. "Cool." But Frank could see his gaze light on the cane; the wince in his eyes as he imagined the strangers seeing him with the prop…there was nothing worse than unsolicited pity.

"Yeah." Frank murmured. "Like a man-date." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Listen, Joe, Cathy's coming over tonight…she's sorry about what she did to you, but if you're uncomfortable with her here, or me going out with her I completely understand." There was a part of him that wished he was the bigger man that wished he could just break off the relationship.

"You been having nightmares?" Frank asked quietly, changing the subject when Joe remained silent so long Frank felt the weight of the quiet upon him. He knew that his younger brother was prone to these night monsters, especially when he was stressed or injured.

"No. Have you?"

"Yeah." Every night. Joe, dying, the gun shot wound a foot above where it had ended up. Joe, being attacked while Frank looked on, helpless. Joe, frightened, cowering as a figure stood over him.

"Me too." Joe slid his eyes over to Frank and blinked once, long lashes coming down to frame a face that was too drawn and thin. Frank abandoned him every night, leaving him behind in favor of Cathy, but he wasn't about to tell the other boy that. Both dropped the subject, feeling marginally better. Misery loved company, after all.

He always said that he would protect his brother at all costs, but in the past four months he'd destroyed Joe's career, and found a girlfriend that may or may not have tried to poison him. But he loved her. God, he loved her.

"No, Frank." Joe's eyes were impossibly, terribly sympathetic, because he was thinking yes, I don't have to do anything, they're already back together. Maybe Cathy would lay off if he laid low, maybe he wouldn't hurt anymore... "We'll…we'll get along." And this admission was made even worse because Frank knew that Joe would do anything to see that Frank was happy, while Frank wasn't quite willing to give up Cathy for the same reason.

They sat side by side for a while before Frank broke the silence, glancing over at the table in the kitchen. "Want to play Clue?"

Joe's grin couldn't possibly get wider. "Thought you'd never ask, freak."

"Jerk." Frank pulled Joe to his feet and handed him the cane, watching, lips pursed, terribly sad, as Joe winced and wobbled his way towards the next room.

"Bet you it's…Frank with the book in the living room?"

"Joe with the cane in the kitchen?"

Laughing, Joe murmured under his breath, so softly that Frank could barely hear it, "Cathy with the car in the driveway," holding his hand, still grotesquely large and purple, and fingering a place on his chest where a necklace used to land.

When Cathy came in that evening she was the picture of contriteness. Carrying a stack of movies from When Harry Met Sally to Rear Window she proclaimed that she was up for anything, and apologized up and down to Joe so profusely that she had entirely won back her boyfriend within ten minutes.

"I have all the stuff for pepperoni bread if you want to stick around, Joe." Cathy invited, her voice dripping with sweetness, although Joe could see the flash of ire behind her eyes. He declined, looking out the window as rain pattered softly down. The night was just begging for a movie.

Biff showed up promptly at seven and Joe was out the door as soon as he saw the headlights pull into the driveway: Biff was the closest to figuring out what Cathy was doing to him, and he didn't want the two in close quarters. "You okay in the rain, kiddo?" Frank asked, catching Joe's arm on the way out.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Joe tried to inject some of his old cockiness into the statement, for Frank's sake. "And you can keep her, bro." he picked up his cane and limped out the door, forgetting his jacket draped over the back of the couch.

As soon as the door closed behind him Cathy flipped the lock shut behind him and, on the pretense of needing a glass of water, got Frank out of the room long enough to lock the garage, back, and side doors.

Outside, the storm raged stronger, rain pelting down harder than before. Joe and Biff laughed through the latest out-of-Japan action movie and grabbed a burger and fries. Joe pretended not to notice that Biff was staring at him too long, making sure he ate. For his part, just to appease his best friend, he did eat. Biff stared at him, his expression unreadable, before asking, quietly. "Do you like Cathy?"

"What?" The younger boy sputtered, surprised even as his body went cold at the mention of the name. "Yeah, I mean." He shrugged, coughed, "I kind of wish she hadn't given me all those pills, but look at what she does to my brother. He can't keep away."

Biff turned hard, and Joe kept talking, willing to say anything to keep this conversation away, "I'm fine, Biff, really. Frank really likes her. A lot. He hasn't liked anyone since Callie."

"And you haven't been out with a girl since Iola. Love isn't a reason, Joe, it's an excuse." Biff's voice was gentle but firm. "Even if Frank was over the moon, honest to God in love with this girl, who, by the way, has never even given any of his friends the time of day, but even if he was in love with her, he'd drop her in a minute if he knew you were being hurt because she was around." He thought of Frank, who had indeed broken up with Cathy after the pill incident, but had also taken the girl back.

But if there was any proof, if Frank got an inkling that Joe was uncomfortable or that Cathy was a sadist, he would dump her and be done with it, even if he was acting like a jerk now.

He stared at Joe, his face concerned. "You know that, right?" His voice got softer, gentler, "He didn't mean to walk away during the fight, Joe. It was a miscommunication." The big teen swallowed, then looped his arm around his best friend, "He loves you, Joe. More than anything."

"I know." Joe murmured. "But Cathy isn't doing anything to me, okay? It's just…bad coincidence."

Biff nodded slowly. "If you say so buddy. " They left the restaurant and Biff drove Joe home. On the way, Biff's mother called, ranting about a criminal on the loose and begging him to come home.

"Sorry about the quick drop-off, Joe," Biff apologized, rolling down the window of his car as it idled outside of the Hardy home, "But my mom's really worried. You okay from here?"

"I think I can limp forty feet, thanks man." Joe got around the car, sheltering himself from the rain and heard Biff's car start up, speeding down the street. It took him a second to plant his cane on the step, another few to get his leg on the slippery slope. He twisted the knob, cursing himself for forgetting his key, his coat.

Locked. "Frank!" He pounded on the door, his shout drowned out by the wind and thunder. "Frank, open up!"

He was tired and cold and wet and wanted to be inside. Where was Frank? He knew that his brother was home, inside the house. The van was visible through one of the garage windows and Frank wouldn't have been stupid enough to take out the motorcycles in weather like this. He pounded again, his cane slipping a little, causing him to pitch forward to land, hard, against the door.

Thunder drowned out even his loudest calls and Joe slumped against the door, shivering in his T-shirt. His wallet was in his back pocket, but what good would that do him? He didn't have a cell phone on him, or his jacket.

In too much pain to even consider limping all the way down to Chet's house three miles away, Joe curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his banged up leg and bowing his head into his lap. "Frank!" He called desperately, hoping to be heard over the screams of the tempest.

Inside, Frank glanced out of the house. "Where's Joe?" He asked aloud. "This storm's getting violent."

"Maybe the movie ran late. He'll be fine." Cathy pulled Frank on top of her and he pushed the thoughts of Joe to the back of his mind. Biff was with him. What's the worst that could happen?

Outside, impossibly cold and wet, Joe wondered if this was somehow the last straw, if (when) he got inside, to Frank, would he tell him about Cathy? Cathy, who was certainly behind this locked door? He shivered, hugged his leg close to his chest and remembered something that Biff had said, He loves you, Joe. Would his big brother, his idol and hero, still love him if he knew what a coward he was being?

More than anything.

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