This work of fiction is owned by the author and may not be reproduced in any fashion without the author's express written permission. The Hardy Boys Mysteries, its characters, and its situations are owned by Franklin W. Dixon, Grosset & Dunlap Publishing (New York), and Simon & Schuster, Inc. (New York). The Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries is owned by Glen Larson Productions and MCA/Universal. No copyright infringement is intended. All other rights available under the law belong to the author. Copyright June 2000.
While this story is pre-slash, others in this series will contain incestuous slash activity. Consider yourself warned.
Promises
Stupid, Joe thought, as his life flashed before his eyes. That had been a monumentally stupid thing to do, and he had gone ahead and done it anyway. He'd seen the small puddle on the floor, seen how the toaster suspiciously lurked on the counter, waiting to do him harm, but it hadn't really noticed or changed his behavior.
He'd just gone right ahead and pop some wheat bread in the toaster and press down on the lever. He might never eat wheat bread again. As soon as he'd done that, blue flashed across his face and the world went blank with a hiss.
When Joe looked out at the world again, through slitted eyes, he could hear his Aunt Gertrude fluttering about, worrying about him, but his mother merely watched patiently. A comforting smile lit her eyes and she gently patted him on the shoulder. Her voice was soothing but Joe couldn't make out the words, and the pale yellow kitchen tile was cool on his face. Frank bent down into his line of vision and smiled at him, touching him between his shoulder blades. It was a nice smile, but his brother had always had a nice smile.
Then Frank spoke, and miraculously his words came into focus, sharp and crisp, a better sound than the pounding in his ears. "Why don't we get you to the hospital, okay? Don't worry, you'll be fine." Joe felt his hand brush lightly across his forehead, moving his blond hair out of the way. Aunt Gertrude had been wanting him to cut it for weeks now. Low-pitched and soothing, Frank's voice was a nice contrast to Aunt Gertrude. Joe could hear her in the background, buzzing about brain damage and scarred for life and other things that hurt too much to consider. He couldn't hear Mom's voice anymore. It was good that Frank was so practical. "Don't worry, little brother."
Memory and conscious thought fuzzed away into a cotton-wrapped veil, and Joe was vaguely aware of being turned and lifted to his feet. Wind in his hair. Muzzy voices, asking a multitude of questions he couldn't answer.
Darkness.
They released him from the hospital early the next afternoon, rambling on about the safe side of caution, whatever that meant. Words about watching for strange behavior, dizziness, and headaches. Most of their discussions Joe didn't listen to anyway; he just wanted to leave. The ride home passed quickly and, since bed rest was a requirement, he curled up for a nap. Frank was there, so he could feel safe.
Joe awoke, and Frank was still there, he could nearly feel his brother's presence. How long had he been sleeping? He glanced to the window, but it was covered. Turning back where his brother sat, Joe felt his weight settle on the bed next to him. A hand lowered onto his brow, ghosting over his features, tracing them like a blind man, lingering a bit at favorite places. A faint hollow under the right eye, at the tender skin there, where it was darkened with stress and illness and hospital food. The edging where the cheek becomes profile, jutting out like a smooth blade, its serrated side worn away by time and need. Soft lips that had always offered so much joy and laughter and song.
Frank's hands pulled up again, gently stroking the skin over his cheekbones. Joe could feel the rhythmic motion, calming as the ocean over sand. After several long moments, he spoke. "That was for yesterday. I almost lost you." Frank's voice was soft, only a slight tremor betrayed his fears. His sunny face overcast by clouds, he cupped Joe's chin gently with one hand. "Please be more careful from now on."
"I will." The words left his mouth without thinking; he wasn't sure whether he would be able to live up to his part of the bargain, but at least he could say the words and give Frank some comfort. Joe turned around, resting his back into his older brother's embrace. Frank's arms came around to hold him tightly, and he welcomed the support. Joe felt his brother rest his chin on his shoulder, tilting his head so it would touch his own. Together, they were silent.
Everything that needed to be said had been said. Now, the danger had passed. Here, safe in his brother's arms, Joe heard the tears Frank did not dare let fall.
No, no strange behavior here.
Everything was right with the world.
Please feed the Muses!
© 1997 evermore4@verizon.net
Get your own Free Home Page