He was just clearing the table when he noticed Joe standing at the door, looking out into the night. Though Joe's back was to him, Frank knew there was something wrong by the way Joe was hanging onto the door, as if for support.

"Joe, are you alright?" he asked.

Joe turned around slowly, and the pallor of his brother's face had instantly alarmed Frank, but nothing prepared him for what came next. Joe suddenly grabbed his chest and as his body went slack, his knees buckled under him.

"Joe!" Frank rushed forward and caught his brother in his arms. "Dad!!!!!"

Fenton came rushing from the kitchen, his eyes widening instantly. He knelt down to help Frank lay Joe down on the floor.

"What happened?" he snapped, checking Joe's breathing and pulse. Damn, he thought. Joe's breaths came out shallow and raspy, and he was completely unconscious. "Frank, call an ambulance."

 

"Tuberculosis?" Frank repeated in disbelief. He started shaking his head vehemently. "No, that's impossible!" Frank desperately hoped that the doctor was joking but Dr. Paul Johnson, who had been called in just as soon as Joe was admitted remained stoic and somber, his usually good-natured face dead serious.

Frank knew TB was the number one killer of HIV patients but he'd be damned if Joe were to succumb to it. He forced himself to stay calm, lowering his voice so that his mother who was sitting with Vanessa in the waiting room would not hear it. "No, there must be some kind of mistake."

"I'm afraid there is no mistake. I've run the same test on him twice, and the results came back the same," Dr. Johnson said. He hesitated, and Frank felt alarm grip his heart.

"What is it? Tell us," Frank pressed.

"It doesn't look good," Dr. Johnson said. Frank's breath expelled out of him in a whoosh.

Fenton felt the blood drain from his face. "But how can that be?" he whispered. "Joe has been taking his medication, just as you told him to."

Dr. Johnson shook his head regretfully. "I'm sorry Mr. Hardy. But the tests show that Joe had stopped taking the medication I have prescribed."

"Joe would never do that! Are you accusing-" Frank started to say heatedly but the doctor interrupted him.

"I'm not accusing him of anything, Frank," he said patiently. "Treatment for TB takes a long time and sometimes, most of the time, people with TB tend to stop taking their medication when they feel healthy for some time, thinking that the infection is gone."

"When it actually isn't," Fenton finished for him, his face drawn and pale. He lowered his head, his eyes closed. "Then it flares up again."

"Exactly," Dr. Johnson said gently. "I'm sorry."

"So what you're saying is that Joe might-Joe might die?" The question came out a helpless whimper. Frank's knees went weak when the doctor nodded hesitantly.

"HIV and TB form a lethal combination, each speeding the other's progress. Joe's PPD test showed that his TB infection had developed into 'active tuberculosis', or pulmonary infection. He's in critical condition right now and we're doing everything we can," the doctor said, closing Joe's chart and clasping it to his chest. "If he's strong enough, he'll make it through. All we can do now is pray."

 

Frank sat slumped in the couch, his head leaning heavily against the wall of Joe's hospital room, staring dully at the limp, still form lying on the bed. Both his parents were on both side of Joe, each one clasping his cold hand, as if trying to suffuse some warmth into their younger son. Frank was spent.

Joe's face was no longer pale; it was gray. And he was hooked to so many machines for one second Frank had the crazy impulse to laugh.

"Don't go teary over this, okay? It's your birthday. You're supposed to be happy."

"I am happy, Frank."

A tear rolled down Frank's cheek but Frank didn't even have the strength to wipe it away. He suddenly felt the warm sensation of someone holding his hand. He couldn't believe that only a few hours ago, they were all having a good time, celebrating Joe's birthday. And now- Frank clutched the journal he'd given to Joe close to his chest. He couldn't explain why but his heart just told him to grab it as he rushed to follow the ambulance.

"I'm dying, Frank."

Memories assaulted Frank, suffocating him, making him sick to his stomach.

"If I were destined to die, Frank, I want to die happy."

Joe's words kept coming back to haunt him mercilessly. Every time Frank closed his eyes, he

saw his brother's smiling face. Joe had fought so hard, he battled against cancer, he battled with his demons...and now his brother was fighting for his life. His little brother. My God, he's so young, Frank suddenly realized. He doesn't deserve this.

Another tear slid down his cheek. Is this how it's going to end? Will this torment ever be over? Angrily, Frank swallowed hard, tasting the salty tears at the back of his throat. It's not fair.

Vanessa was squeezing his hand right now, her eyes swollen and red from crying.

Joe, wake up, Frank begged. Please wake up.

 

It had been over 7 hours but still Joe hadn't regained consciousness.

Oh, my baby, Laura wept inside. The tears wouldn't stop flowing. But no matter how much she cried, Joe remained motionless, the only signs of life was the slow beeping of the heart monitor and the rising and falling of his chest as Joe drew in a shallow breath after another, his body jerking spasmodically once in a while as if it hurt him to breathe.

Suddenly Joe started to convulse, his body racking as he began to cough. Frank jumped to his feet.

His face a mask of pain and agony, Joe coughed again violently, letting out a great cough after another.

Vanessa had rushed out of the room, and ran to the first nurse she saw. "I need a doctor in Room 569," she said urgently. And a few seconds later, Dr. Johnson was hovering over Joe with a syringe in hand. Just as the drug entered his veins, Joe's struggles ceased and his face went slack, his head lolling lifelessly to the side as once again the blessed oblivion of unconsciousness consumed him. Laura sank back into her seat, trembling as she sought comfort in her husband's embrace who had wrapped his arms around her.

"Fenton..." She turned and buried her face against her husband's chest and wept.

Dr. Johnson was about to step out of the room when Frank suddenly clutched his arm. The elder man shook his head sadly at the unspoken question in Frank's dull brown eyes. An immediate chill ran down Frank's spine.

Joe coughed again, his brow creased with pain as his body spasmed with the effort. At the audible gasp from his mother, he rushed forward to Joe's bedside. He could hear Joe's ragged wheezing and his soft cries of pain with each exhaled breath from afar but nothing prepared Frank for what he was about to see. Blood. Blood was trickling down the side of Joe's mouth.

Frank felt dizzy, the sickening feeling of helplessness gnawing deep inside him. Joe was coughing up blood.

 

Frank stayed vigil by Joe's bedside for the next four hours or so as his parents took their turns to rest, never once letting go of Joe's hand. It was nearly dawn but Frank couldn't even remember what day it was. All he cared about was Joe.

Frank moved his other hand down to his brother's chest, concerned with the effort it took for Joe to catch his breath. What scared Frank more was the deep, unsettling rattles he could feel under his fingers.

The rattles brought on another bout of coughing. Frank stroked his brother's hot forehead, and waited until Joe's painful coughs subsided. With trembling hands, Frank wiped the trickle of crimson seeping the corner of Joe's mouth chin with a piece of cloth.

Frank couldn't deny it anymore, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. The medication didn't seem to be working. In fact, Joe was getting worse by the second, each breath labored and each cough more violent than the one before. Joe had coughed up more blood in the past few hours, sometimes even clots of dark, red masses.

Frank wished Joe would only open his eyes; even for one second. He would give anything, anything just to see his brother's familiar blue orbs again. He lifted his head up. Vanessa was staring out the window with her back to him. She'd been doing that for more than an hour now. Only her tense, rigid shoulders gave Frank an idea that she was hurting inside. And she had barely spoken a word to anyone.

"Why is this happening?" The question hit Frank out of the blue and at first he thought that he'd just imagined it. Then he saw that Vanessa had turned around and was staring at him with dull, bloodshot eyes.

"Why him?"

"I don't know, Vanessa," Frank whispered in anguish. "I just don't know."

"He's leaving, you know? He told me himself." Vanessa had said it so casually that if it wasn't for the look of pure misery on her face, Frank would have thought she meant Joe was leaving for a summer camp or something. But Frank knew the meaning behind her words. Then he remembered Joe saying earlier that he had never been happier before in his whole life.

"Yeah, he told me too."

That was the last straw. Anguish and grief came crashing down on Frank, and he dropped his head onto the bed and wept. Oh Joe, he thought as tears silently coursed down his face. I know I don't say it often but I love you. I love you so much.

All of a sudden, Joe began to shudder in a convulsing fit, and the machines all around him started beeping like an overloaded supercomputer.

"What the hell-" Frank jumped to his feet. Fenton and Laura who were awakened by the sudden noise also jumped to their feet, the last of sleep instantly disappearing.

"What happened?" Fenton snapped just as a throng of doctors and nurses rushed in.

Frank took a step back and watched in horror as they crowded around Joe, taking his vitals. It's happening all over again, he thought. Laura let out a shrill cry as Joe convulsed again, his body spasming violently. A great cough erupted from deep within his chest and suddenly Dr. Johnson found himself spattered in blood. "We've got to work fast," he snapped.

"Blood pressure 60/20," someone said.

Frank closed his eyes. God please save him, he prayed. I'll do anything. Please.

Just when they thought Joe was stable he started convulsing again, this time so violently the whole bed shook. Vanessa had covered her face with both hands. I can't watch this, she thought, hot tears threatening to spill.

"What the hell-Nurse, hold him down," Dr Johnson ordered. But before the nurse could do so, Joe stopped convulsing and his heart suddenly stopped, a long beeping note suddenly filling the air.

A rush of deja-vu coursed through Frank as a nurse ran in with a defibrillator.

"Charge!" ordered the doctor as he picked the two paddles up from the small box. The whine slowly grew louder and sharper until it was fully charged.

"Clear!" shouted Dr Johnson as he placed the paddles onto Joe's exposed torso. Laura's breath caught in her throat as she watched her son jolt upward as electricity was run through him.

"Again!" the doctor barked, the whine of the defib growing louder as it charged again. He shocked Joe once more, but still the EKG beeped its long, endless note.

"Still no pulse," said a nurse who was watching the monitor.

Frank watched dully as the doctor sent another shock of electricity through his brother. One part of him wanted to tell them to stop, to stop hurting Joe but the other part of him was fervently wishing that they bring Joe back. Bring Joe back, he thought. Bring Joe back to me. To us.

"Give him 50cc's more," Dr Johnson ordered to the nurse at his side who was quick to grab a syringe at the ready on the small trolley beside her. Frank watched as she squeezed a small amount out to check there was no air in the syringe before she injected the 50cc's into Joe's arm, which was now beginning turn blue.

"Clear," Dr Johnson shouted, firing another jolt into Joe. Everyone turned to the EKG. Still nothing.

"Damn. Charge to 300. Now!!" There was a roar in Frank's head, getting louder and louder by the second. A rush coursed through his veins as he watched through blurry tears as the doctor placed the paddles against Joe's chest again.

Stop, please, he begged. You're hurting him. Please. He's hurt enough.

Frank closed his eyes, aware of someone gripping his arm so hard it hurt. But the pain was nothing compared to the anguish in his heart as everyone suddenly fell quiet. A hush of silence veiled over the room except for the unceasing beep of the EKG.

Fenton stared at the straight line on the monitor. No, he thought numbly. Not my son.

The doctors and nurses had stopped working, looking dejected. Some had even started clearing up, packing everything.

"Why have you stopped working!!!" He suddenly screamed at the doctor. "Save him!" He was about to lunge forward when he felt Laura suddenly go limp in his arms.

Dr Johson locked eyes with Frank. I'm sorry, he seemed to say silently.

"Call it?" The other doctor asked him silently. Vanessa's face crumpled and she slowly sank to the floor, feeling the life drain out of her. Joe's gone, she thought in anguish, he's really gone.

"Time of death, five-twenty five," the doctor said quietly. He reached down and touched Joe's hand. It was ice-cold.

Fenton, who was cradling his wife, buried his face against her hair and sobbed. It's over, he thought as his sobs intensified. It's over.

Frank walked slowly forward to Joe's bed. The doctors and nurses retreated, offering him their silent condolences. He looked down at Joe's face.

Joe was deathly pale and a tinge of blue adorned his cold lips. His forehead was smooth, void of any creases of pain and agony he'd gone through. Even in death, Joe looked peaceful and-happy.

Goodbye, Joe, Frank thought numbly, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. You can rest now.

"I love you," Frank whispered, his voice small and strained. He tried to hold his tears back but he couldn't help it. He began to sob, dropping to his knees next to Joe. He buried his face against Joe's cold chest and wept, his heart-wrenching sobs rising to the heavens, the undying love of a brother cut off just like that at the mercy of death. "God, Joe, I love you so much."

Suddenly Frank felt a chill run down his spine and he could swear he felt someone squeezing the back of his neck, someone with ice-cold hand. Joe's watching me, he realized. Trembling, he rose on shaky legs, oblivious to his father's anguished sobs. He stared once more at Joe's face, so serene in his eternal sleep, as if trying to memorize every feature, every contour of his brother's face, knowing that he would never forget how Joe looked like even if he tried. So this is goodbye then, Frank thought numbly. This is where it ends. This is the point of no return.

Frank bent down and kissed his brother's cold forehead. Rest now, little brother. Nothing can touch you now. Just rest.