A/N: Once again, as stated in chapters fourteen and fifteen: I took some poetic license in this story. I know some of the things that happen are not possible (I watched the episode of Mythbusters about it) but I wrote this story before the term RESEARCH had entered my vocabulary. As this story is several years old and I do not feel like modifying it any further, I stick to my "poetic license" theory. If you have a problem with me making the impossible happen, talk to my people. :)

A Day Off

Chapter Sixteen

Frank sat in Joe's hospital room the next day, debating over something that had been gnawing at his mind all night. "It just doesn't make sense," he muttered under his breath.

Joe stirred on the bed, having heard what Frank had said. "What doesn't make sense?"

"Oh, you're awake. How're you feeling? D'you need anything? I can call the doctor, if you want."

Joe smiled weakly, and tried to push himself up on the bed. Frank jumped up and raised it. Joe nodded thanks, and then said, "No, I'm good. Just happy to be alive and above ground."

Whether he meant this to be funny or not, Frank didn't know, but he didn't find it humorous at all. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yep. Never better." Joe grinned. "So, what's on your mind?"

"Just thinking."

"About what?"

"Well, you know how I told you earlier that Dr. Angel was arrested?"

"Yeah."

"Well…I don't know if I should really be talking to you about this, you know, after all you've been through."

Joe looked Frank directly in the eyes. "I'm okay," he said. "What's up?"

"Well, when people die…" Frank stole a quick glance at Joe, whose expression did not change, "…aren't they embalmed? I mean, when you…ahem…'died' per say, why weren't you embalmed? Dad arranged the funeral and everything…I, oh gosh, I'm sorry Joe!"

Joe had leaned back on the pillow, eyes closed, looking paler than before.

He opened his eyes and smiled. "Not your fault. Got a headache, that's all. And honestly, I don't know the answer to your question…"

"But I do." The boys jumped as their father made his way into the room. "Joe, it's good to see you," he said, tears in his eyes. He embraced his youngest son, and said, "I talked to the guy who was supposed to do the embalming. He said he got a call right before he was going to begin the procedure. He said it was from someone who said she was Joe's mother. From the description of the voice, I'm almost positive it was Dr. Angel. Anyway, 'Mrs. Hardy' told him that embalming was not necessary. It was a family tradition from way back, before the Hardys even immigrated to America, to burn the dead, and not embalming them. They just needed to be prepared otherwise, you know, dressed up, uh…just ready for the final words before he was burned. The man was hesitant, but went along. So that's the deal with that."

"Okay, that woman was—is—twisted!" Frank spat, looking at his little brother compassionately. "So is Black."

"I agree," Joe said. "I'm just glad they're behind bars."

"And I'm just glad I have my little brother back."

"Thanks for having my back."

"Always," Frank said quietly. "Always. Always, and forever."

And Joe knew without a doubt that every bit was true. He closed his eyes and drifted off into a peaceful sleep, knowing his brother would be by his side every moment. He always was.

THE END

~Emachinescat ^..^