Next chapter. Okay, my Mom is really religious, (I wish I could be as faithful as her. I swear she's a saint.) so there's some Frank/self conflict here and some bible verses that pop up. She really loves combining god nad fanfic, and, let's face it- I haven't even READ the Hardy boys and I like it, so she must be doing something write. Please review!

Bad morning. Dad's top eye doc offered little hope Joe's sight will return.

Joe hasn't said one word since the eye doctor left four hours ago.

"Frank, you have a guest?" Mr. Green asks as I lead Joe up the steps to my condo.

"Yes, my brother is recuperating," I say.

"Did you fill out a guest request?" Mr. Green asks.

"My brother needs to rest," I say and unlock my door. "If you have any questions call my lawyer."

I lead Joe inside and slam the door. When I get Joe over to the couch, my doorbell rings.

"Hey guys," Tony says. "Brought Joe's favorite meatball sub. Thought I'd hang with Joe a while, if that's ok."

"Sounds good," Joe says.

"OK," I say, glad Joe's talking.

Three hours later I've been to police headquarters, the office, Joe's condo, and the supermarket.

I drive Joe's black Mustang into my condo's attached garage. Somehow driving Joe's car makes me feel closer to him.

Quietly, I unlock my kitchen door and let myself in. Don't want to wake Joe if he's asleep. Instead I hear shouting.

"DO IT OR GET OUT!" Joe screams.

"Give yourself more time," Tony says.

"NOT TURNING FRANK INTO MY SEEING EYE DOG!" Joe shouts. "GOOGLE THE VISION REHAB PLACES!"

"OK," Tony mumbles. "If you tell me how you're doing."

"Good," Joe says.

"So we're not looking up anything today," Tony says.

"PRITO, I HATE YOU!" Joe shouts.

"Whatever you tell me goes no further," Tony says.

Silence.

"Remember when we snuck out to the carnival when we were 11 years old?" Joe asks.

"Yeah, your dad found us," Tony says. "Got grounded for two weeks. First time I realized having a friend whose dad is a private eye rots."

"Remember the House of Horror ride?" Joe says. "Pitch black…screams…scary stuff coming at you."

"Yeah," Tony says. "Almost peed myself when those two zombies came at us with chainsaws."

"That's how I feel," Joe says, in a small voice.

I sneak back to the Mustang and drive.

I fix things. Solve problems. Find answers. I'm Frank. It's what I do. Except this time, when it matters the most, I'm stumped.

Ten minutes later, I pull over on the shoulder of a deserted road.

Turn off the Mustang. The night is pitch black, with no moon or stars. My hand brushes Joe's Bible. How did it get here?

I open it and read, "Has the Lord ever abandoned anyone…."

Sirach 2:10**

I toss the Bible in the backseat.

I abandoned Joe for a year. How do you forgive that?

I close my eyes to imagine Joe's life.

Blackness. Like being buried alive. How does Joe do it? I've given Joe a life sentence in his worst nightmare.

My family has lots of enemies – in jail and on the outside. Enemies who will pick the easiest target – Joe.

I have to get him out of here. We'll vanish. Live somewhere off the grid. That's the only way Joe has a chance of surviving.

Unfortunately, that means ripping Joe away from everything familiar. Things he can at least "see" in his memory – like his apartment, our office, the gym and his Mustang.

Which is worse: being a human target or being ripped away from everything familiar?

I don't know. But no one will hurt Joe again as long as I'm alive.

I call Tony's cell. He picks up on the first ring.

"Hey," I say. "Ran late."

"S'okay. Joe just took his meds and a sleeping pill," Tony says. "Hold on."

I feel too guilty to talk to Joe.

"Out partying?" Joe asks.

"No partying," I say. "I'm on my way."

"Oreos?" Joe asks.

"Picked them up at the store," I say and flip my phone to hands free. Somehow Joe's voice calms me.

"Double stuff?" Joe asks.

"Yes."

"Ranch potato chips?"

"I raided the junk food aisle. Happy?" I ask.

"Guess who's got a prostate problem?" Joe asks.

"WHAT?" I ask.

"Mr. Green," Joe says. "He's gone to the bathroom 23 times since you left. Tony and I counted."

"Glad you spent your time productively," I say and smile.

"We can hear his toilet flush through the walls. The water here does weird stuff to your prostate," Joe says, through what sounds like a yawn. "I'm not showering here."

"Going to assume that's the drugs speaking," I say. "Be home in five."

Five minutes later, I pull into my attached garage.

"How's Joe?" I ask and walk in carrying groceries and a bag of Joe's clothes.

"Almost asleep," Tony says. "Think he's waiting up for you. I'll bring in the rest of your stuff."

Joe is in my bedroom, sprawled across my bed. How can one person take up an entire king size bed?

"You awake?" I ask and put my hand on Joe's shoulder.

"Don't wanna sleep," Joe whispers. "What if I dream about Iola dying?"

I'm reminded of Joe when he was five years old sneaking into my bedroom at night because he was scared of monsters.

"I'll wake you up," I say. "Let me read you something."

Joe is barely awake.

I pick up the book of devotionals I found at Joe's apartment.

"As you go through this day, trust Me to provide the strength you need moment by moment." *

Joe is asleep.

Hate that Joe feels so exposed…helpless…trapped.

I pull a blanket over Joe's shoulders and leave the bedroom door open. If Joe has a night terror, I will be there.

Will Joe ever forgive me for locking in a world of darkness and fear? Will I ever forgive me?

"Got time for a beer?" Tony asks.

He pulls two bottles of beer from the fridge before I answer.

"Wanna talk?" Tony asks.

I shrug.

Does Tony blame me for Joe's blindness? Joe was worried everybody would hate him after Iola died. Funny, now I feel the same way.

"Ok, I'll go first," Tony says. "Callie's a fool. She definitely settled when she got engaged."

I take a long swallow of beer to avoid answering.

"Business is dead at the pizzeria. Economy rots," Tony says and sighs. "Why did I add on the new dining room? Gotta pay the contractor $80,000 for a room nobody uses."

I take another long swallow of beer.

"Might borrow Joe a few nights to keep me calm," Tony says. "Joe says he'll do anything to escape the old people here."

"After he gets security and medical clearance," I say.

"Got it," Tony says.

More silence.

"You know, I'm not just Joe's friend. You can talk to me, Frank."

Silence.

"OK, I'll be logical," Tony says. "Figure all the bad feelings you're stuffing down are going to spill out sometime. You don't want it to come out at Joe. So tell me."

I drain my beer in one long swallow.

Tony opens another beer and slides it over to me.

"Trying to get me drunk?" I ask.

"No. Trying to find out how you're doing. Spill. I'm not leaving till you do."

I throw my beer bottle against the wall. It shatters. Glass shards and beer cover the floor, counter and sink.

"Nonverbal communication works," Tony says.

"How does it feel? How am I doing?" I ask. "Joe is blind and it's my fault! That's how I feel!"

"Not your fault," Tony says.

"Really? Someone put a bomb in my car! Do you know why Joe was in my car?" I ask.

"Uh…no," Tony says.

"Told Joe I needed a new partner. So Dad invented an errand for Joe to run in my car," I say.

Tony must hate me now. I hate me.

"The worst part is I've ignored Joe for the past year," I say.

"Frank, you're human. Callie's engaged. You're hurting," Tony says. "Joe knows that."

"Yeah, I'm hurting. But Joe's blind because of me. And I can't fix it," I say.

"Frank, you're here for Joe. That's all he wants."

But it's not enough.

After Tony leaves, I clean up the glass and beer on the floor.

I open another beer and google vision rehab places. I grab another beer as I look over what they offer: braille, guide dogs…Joe's new life courtesy of me.

My head hurts. I stumble into the recliner I've moved next to my bed. How many beers did I drink? Something hard hits my head. Pain. I fall into darkness.

*Jesus Calling, Sarah Young, April 5th devo

**"Has the Lord ever abandoned anyone who held him in constant reverence?" Sirach 2:10