A/N I over slept. I'm in a crappy mood. So, I will sit here and scowl at the computer screen. But, I would like to say thanks so much for all the reviews, and also thanks (to most of you) for not trying to kill/maim/torture me. The chapter where Frank actually died is next. If I have time I'll put it up tommorow. :)

Disclaimer: I own nada.

Joe Hardy awoke with a groan at just after eight in the morning on January 11th. He had fallen asleep on the fire escape and the crisscrossing pattern of the metal was imprinted on the side of his face and part of his left arm making him look a bit like a human checkerboard. He was freezing and his head throbbed; protesting the drinking he had done last night. Joe blinked groggily and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The blond climbed back through the window and into the apartment. The world spun and he gripped the edge of the windowsill until his vision righted itself again. The night before came rushing back accompanied by the painful realization that his brother was dead. He always seemed to forget that Frank was gone. Joe supposed it had something to do with his mind wanting to deny the fact.

He hardly slept anymore; every night visions of the last few days of his brother's life haunted him, and during the day thoughts of his death consumed him. Some days he stayed up all night staring blankly out the window into the alleyway, other times such as last night, the lack of sleep finally took over allowing him to sleep completely knocked out and thus too far gone to have any dreams at all and by extension thoughts of Frank.

Joe laughed bitterly as his thoughts wandered back to the last day of his brother's life. The memories came to the front of his mind easily but then this was probably because he spent half his life thinking about it. Frank hadn't been twenty-one for even a month yet when he died. A huge party had been planned for the 18th of January because Joe had been in the hospital on his actual birthday. And instead of a party to celebrate a milestone in his older brother's life they had held a funeral. In retrospect it was sort of ironic, on the day they had planned to celebrate his birth they had ended up marking his death.

It occurred to Joe that for some reason he was always the one who escaped. He had the Devil's luck as many people informed him. For all the times he was kidnapped and held hostage he always escaped. It just seemed so unfair; he was the reckless one, the one who did stupid things without thinking, but he was never the one who died, he wasn't the one who was taken in the prime of his life. No, of course not, he would probably outlive everyone. Joe was positive that somewhere whoever it is that controlled the universe was having a good laugh at his expense.

He found it almost amusing in a morbid sort of way. No matter what he did he always survived. In fact, he was fairly certain that if he were still with Vanessa and decided to throw himself in front of a bus that the bus would swerve and hit her instead. In a way when he cut himself off from them all and moved away he was actually helping them. Joe was adamant that leaving had probably increased their life spans by years. Half of them probably would be dead by now if he had stayed. Really he had been doing them a favor, right? Or maybe that was just another lie he told himself. He spent so much time lying to himself that he wasn't really sure what was actual reality and what was part of the fantasy he had made up.

Joe had moved to New York City a week after Frank died. Upon moving he cut off all ties to his former life and most days he had no regrets about it. He liked life in the city; he was just another nameless faceless person lost in the bustle of New York, he didn't matter to anyone and he liked it that way. In fact he hardly had to make contact with any person since he waited tables at night; from eleven to six in the morning. Hardly anyone came to the diner during his shift; actually hardly anyone came to the diner at all. The only people he saw were a few regular customers, the other employees, a few of his neighbors, and occasionally a clerk at some store he stopped in to get food or clothes.

Despite the time that had passed since he'd last slept in the house he couldn't forget the terms he'd left on. Joe hadn't left simply out of a desire to escape, that was part of it of course, but it wasn't everything. Fenton Hardy had been…distraught over Frank's death to say the least and he had seen fit to take it out on Joe. Not that in all honesty Joe really blamed his father because as far as the blond was concerned his elder brother's death had been all his fault. Hearing Fenton repeat the doubts Joe himself had felt as fact had finally driven him away. Joe swallowed feeling his throat tighten as memories of those horrible days after Frank died assaulted his mind. Joe shook his head to clear it. He didn't want to think about this.

Not that any of it really mattered anymore. In the life of Joe Hardy there was only one person and that was himself. What had happened in those days after Frank died were between him and Fenton, and Joe felt no need to consider those days.

His current existence was not something he would've wished on his worst enemy, but then the only reason one attains such a cloistered life is tragedy and fear. Joe had suffered horrible things in his lifetime but nothing had ever been as bad as losing his brother. Before when bad things had happened he had been able to keep going but that was only because he knew Frank would always be there. He promised. Frank had never broken a promise...until January 10th 2007 that is.

A/N Review.