For sure Frankie Rizzoli thought he was a goner, and in that closed up stairwell, he only had to wonder who was gonna be more pissed—his mother or his big sister. For sure Jane, he had decided, one hand struggling to brace his throbbing side and knowing he couldn't move by himself. He was a sitting target, and part of him wondered why those guys hadn't come back through, yet to finish him off.

The doors had opened, quietly and then he had heard that girl begging, and the shot that silenced her made him jerk, too. He tried not to make a sound, and his heart almost stopped when he heard another door and a shot and then Jane. Definitely Jane. Her voice was never mistaken for anyone else's, and he called out weakly, this time not recognizing his own voice.

She is here, like she always was. And it's okay, until it isn't. Until they have him up on that dead people table, and suddenly it's like something has inflated inside him. For sure Dr. Isle's hands are the softest he's felt, but he's wondering if it's the last thing he's gonna remember feeling. He can't even tell Janie about the inflating inside him, and he clutches desperately at her hand, silently begging as she yells at Dr. Isles. At her best friend. For her kid brother.

It was dark and the curtains at the end of the hall were new, red ones that Ma had just put up. Every time the thunder boomed and the lightening lit everything, those curtains made the window look bright red. Like blood. Seven years didn't feel old enough, and he prayed to all the saints he could remember that he wouldn't piss himself, even if he had just hit the john.

The creaky door was muffled by another round of thunder, and he scrambled the last steps and launched onto the bed, like the thunder might get him if he spent another second touching the ground. As he landed, Frankie knew it was a mistake, and he gave a plea, "Janie?"

An arm, stronger than most of the boys in school probably realized, wrapped around him, and a few seconds later his not-totally-awake sister had him pinned. She had learned fast in field hockey not to take crap from anybody, and there was a reason the football team called her 'Punisher.'"Frankie? What the… god," she sighed, rolling off and flopping onto her back. "Jeez, what is it?"

Frankie bit his bottom lip and was about to slide off the bed and sulk back to his bottom bunk. Tommy would have never let him live it down if he had waken him up because of a storm. And no way was he gonna go running to Ma. No way. "I wanted… you to be okay. 'Cause the storm's bad."

For sure Janie knew what he was getting at, but Frankie never could figure out why she hadn't sent him back to his bed with a shove. Tommy had come home from school with another detention, and he knew his parents had gone through another parent talk about Tommy maybe getting kicked out and reform school. Somewhere in the middle of it, he and Janie were given dish duty, and he'd managed to knock his Ma's ring down the drain.

He'd freaked for a whole half a minute before Janie had turned to him with a, "it's okay," before calling Pop and making Frankie want to bolt. She'd given him her most repentant look and announced that she had accidentally knocked down the ring and asked where the wrench was.

By the end of their Ma's shout/lecture, Janie had been saddled with two weeks of double chores and cleaning the bathrooms for the rest of the month. But she hadn't said a word about Frankie, and he hadn't forgotten that.

"Hey," Janie had grabbed the hem of his night shirt and tugged to the bed. Sometimes he hated that his big sister was stronger. But she did give the best hugs, and he snuggled in beside her, burying his head under the covers as thunder and lightening tried to light up the room again.

She'd tugged up the blankets and handed over the extra blanket. "It's okay, Buddy. You're okay."

"Hey, Buddy … you okay?" Janie was talking to him again, and he gave a gasp, sucking in air this time. There was a sharp pain to go with the bone-deep ache, but he could breathe now. His fingers wrapped tighter around her, and he managed to get out a little bit of a reply this time.

She's shushing him now, and that means he can relax now. "yeah, you're alright… you're alright," she soothes, fingers smoothing over his face. Maybe he is bigger and stronger now, but he's okay with letting his big sister be better at this stuff. Janie's always been there, always stood up for him. He's alright. It's gonna be fine now. For sure.