It took him almost a full minute to understand.

The ten-year-old’s eyes suddenly went wide and his mouth gaped in shock and astonishment, and then a terrific burst of joy sang through him. He sat up with a gasp and stared wildly around his familiar-unfamiliar room. It had been over a month since he’d seen it with anything but his hands; now he feasted his gaze on the brightness of the colors, the textures, the shapes. He turned back to the window, then crawled down to the foot of the bed and stared avidly out at trees, grass, houses, blue sky, puffy clouds. And sunlight!

‘Frank! I’ve got to tell Frank! I’ve got to see him!’ Joe skittered off the bed, trotted lightly down the hall of the silent house, slipped into his brother’s room, and reached out to shake Frank awake. Then he stopped, taking in the familiar face of his brother with a beaming smile. The messy dark hair, the closed eyes, the features he’d known all his life- Joe shook the older boy by the shoulder. "Frank, wake up. Wake up! Wake up, Frank!"

"Huh? Joey? Whassamatter?" Dark brown eyes blinked open and focused on Joe. "Did you have a-"

Silence, and the slow, incredulous widening of Frank’s own eyes. The two boys stared at each other for a long, long moment, and then the eleven-year old sat up with a gasp. "Joe!"

Joe beamed again, and a second later Frank flung exuberant arms around him.

"Joe, you- your eyes! You can see!"

"Yes!" Joe snuggled into the hug, but kept his eyes open, taking in every detail around him. "I just woke up and there was sunlight and I said wait, what’s happening, and then I knew!" The boy paused for breath.

"Sunlight," Frank repeated softly. Joe nodded; his brother always knew the most important parts right away. Sunlight- no more deep, frightening, devouring darkness. "Did- did you tell anyone else?"

"No. I wanted to tell you first." Joe caught a glimpse of the clock- it was only a little after seven in the morning. "Besides, I don’t think they’re awake."

Frank laughed, his voice shaking as he said, "Well, I wasn’t!" Joe looked at him in mild surprise and saw tears in his brother’s dark eyes.

"Sorry," he said meekly, a little puzzled.

"Don’t." Frank hugged tighter, rocking a little. "It’s okay. Oh, gosh I was hoping!" he burst out suddenly. "Ever since you said, Saturday, that it wasn’t as dark...I hoped and hoped! But you didn’t say anything and I was scared it wasn’t gonna get any better-"

"It kept getting lighter; I would’ve told you, but I was scared to jinx it," Joe admitted. "That was why I was wanting to go outside so much. It was brighter. And I kept thinking I saw little pieces of color, or if a car went by I thought I’d see where the sun shone on it. But I wasn’t sure, it kept happening so quick."

Frank took a breath and let it out in a deep sigh. And then, suddenly, his hands clutched Joe’s arms. "Joe! Now you’ll go to our school!"

The ten-year-old’s mouth dropped open for a moment. Go to regular school, with his friends- with Frank. The worry and fear that had been weighing on him since he first overheard his parents’ conversation vanished like mist on a sunny morning. "Yes!" he exulted, with a convulsive wiggle of sheer glee. Then another thought struck him. "I never thought I’d be glad to do that." His brother laughed again. A sniff followed, and then Frank’s cheek was soft against his, something the older boy had not done for at least a year.

"What d’you want to do today?" the eleven-year-old asked softly.

"Everything!" Joe answered with a grin. "Everything in the world!" Pulling back, he saw something in Frank’s eyes that he only half-understood. "And I’ll never get it all done if you don’t help me," he added, in a deep, unconscious attempt to answer that strange feeling. He was rewarded with the smile that he really liked, the one that made him feel like Frank’s best friend, not just his little brother.

"Like baseball-"

"And ride my bike!"

"And the treehouse."

"And Frisbee. And video games-"

"Those at night," Frank suggested.

"Yeeaahh." Joe wiggled loose. "I’m gonna get dressed. Gosh, Mom’s gonna be surprised."

"I think everyone’s going to be surprised," Frank agreed, pushing the covers back.

That turned out to be the understatement of the summer. Mom and Dad didn’t come downstairs until about eight-thirty and by then the boys had dressed, eaten some cereal and cleaned up after themselves. Joe, who had deeply missed his morning cartoons, was watching the TV intently while Frank read the comics section of the paper. Joe turned when he heard footsteps on the stairs and grinned in anticipation.

Mom kept going into the kitchen with a murmur of ‘Good morning’ but Dad stopped and gave Joe a puzzled look. And then he charged across the room, caught Joe up and swung him over his head. Joe squealed in surprise and delight, then laughed as Dad lowered him for a hug, calling, "Laura! Laura, get out here!"

"What’s all the racket?" Aunt Gertrude demanded, poking her head out the door as Mom came over, looking bewildered. "What-"

"Joe!" Mom shouted, and then she was hugging him at the same time Dad was and crying and laughing and trying to tell Auntie what was right.

"Joe’s eyes are better," he heard Frank explain, and also heard his aunt’s startled exclamation. Then Auntie’s hand was under his chin and he was looking up into her pale-blue eyes and thinking she looked almost like crying. She didn’t, but she surprised him by leaning down to kiss him.

"This calls for a celebration," she said gently, and bustled into the kitchen, still in her bathrobe, to make her special treat: pancakes with blueberries.

After a while, things settled down. Dad let him down, Mom stopped crying- though she didn’t stop smiling- and both of them wanted to know when and what and how and everything. Joe sat down beside Frank, who was still sitting with the paper next to him, and did his best to explain. Not that there was much to explain; one day, it was black with gray that seemed to be getting lighter and lighter; the next day it was back to regular sight.

"You should’ve woken us up," Mom teased, crouching down to kiss him. She was in her bathrobe, too, though Dad was dressed.

Joe didn’t quite know how to explain that he’d wanted to savor the return of his vision, alone with his brother who had helped him so much. "I wanted to get used to it," he offered instead, then glanced at Frank. Frank was looking away. "Anyway, Frank and I are gonna be busy today, doing lots of stuff," he added, and at that, his brother turned and smiled.

"We should take you to the doctor," Mom said, frowning a little.

"You’ll have to make an appointment, Laura," Dad reminded her.

"Well, that’s true. Are things blurry, honey? Or too bright?"

Joe frowned thoughtfully, remembering how the doctor had said he might not have as much sight. "It seems like it always was, but I might’ve forgotten," he admitted. Frank passed him the paper and he squinted at the small print. "A little bit fuzzy. But I can read it."

"I’ll call and see how soon we can get an appointment. And tell us, Joe, if things get fuzzier, or if you get a headache or anything."

"I will," Joe agreed, his delight fading a little. His sight was back- it would stay back, wouldn’t it?

"Don’t look so worried," Dad told him gently. "It’s one of those just-in-case things that aren’t likely to happen at all. Your eyes have had a long vacation. They might be ready to work perfectly right now, or they might need a day or two to get back into the routine. But, at least they’re working again."

Joe had to grin- Dad put things so funny, sometimes. His fear faded, though; Dad was right. His eyes were working, not just seeing grayness among the black, but really seeing.

"Breakfast!" Auntie called, and everyone hurried to the table for a pancake feast.

***

Joe Hardy flopped down onto his bed with a long, contented sigh. He was tired, but he was still wonderfully happy. It had been such a marvelous day! His sight had come back! And he’d spent the day doing all the things he couldn’t do when he was blind. With Frank, who’d been just as happy as Joe.

First they’d biked over to the treehouse and worked on that for about an hour, finishing the long-neglected passage to the next ‘room’, the next tree over. Then they’d gone to meet their friends at the playground. No one had been there yet, so while they waited, they’d played on the equipment. Joe had thought with satisfaction that he still had almost four weeks before they’d be lining up to go in after recess.

When Jerry and Chet showed up, the foursome had played catch for a while with Chet’s new softball. Then Joe had run home, grabbed up the Frisbee, and run back. Tony had arrived by then, so the five had made a complicated new game of Frisbee-ball, involving both the flying disk and the softball.

Joe beamed, remembering how happy his friends had been; twelve-year-old Tony had actually picked Joe up and spun him around so that green grass and blue sky all whirled together. Chet had grinned ear to ear and given high-fives, and Jerry had thumped him on the back. Amused by this, Joe had made ‘motorboat’ noises until they were all laughing too hard to talk.

Unfortunately, they didn’t manage to get enough kids together for a real baseball game, but they all took turns pitching to each other, batting, and catching. Then it had been time for lunch and everyone had headed for home. Mom had insisted that they both rest a little, and Joe didn’t mind much, for once in a way. It was awful hot out, and while he was resting, he read two of his favorite books. They made his eyes water a little, though, and he fell asleep for a while in the middle of the second one.

The one down-side to the day, Joe decided, had been when he’d tried to use his skateboard. He had gotten rusty from not using it and had taken a rather unpleasant tumble into a gravel driveway. Frank had brought him back home and cleaned up his cuts; he’d even used that iodine, even though Joe insisted he really didn’t need it. Bad enough getting the gashes scrubbed, without putting that fiery medicine on ‘em!

Most of the rest of the hot afternoon was spent exploring. Joe had renewed his acquaintance with all the little neighborhood hidden spots, all the forts, all the secret hideouts. He’d climbed a few trees and jumped a few ditches and then gone back up to Willow Woods to look at the river and wade a bit. He’d had a stone-throwing contest with Frank, and wished aloud that they’d gone down to the docks to watch the ships.

"Tomorrow," Frank had told him, tossing him a stone. Joe had caught it with a grin. "Tomorrow we can do all the beach stuff. That takes a whole day anyway, ‘specially if we go in the shops."

Now, with supper over and his brother in the tub, Joe sat up, went to his desk and pulled out a piece of construction paper. He folded it down the middle, then dug out his colored pencils- crayons were too messy for this- and got to work on the idea that had struck him when Frank mentioned the shops.

The hard part was what to actually write, and since he heard the water being let out, he didn’t have as much time as he would’ve liked to think about it. But he managed, dashing into Frank’s room, leaving the thing on the pillow, and then scurrying back down the hall to his own room again.

A few minutes later, a wet-headed Frank appeared in the doorway, wrapped in a towel. "Your turn."

Joe put down his book and went to take his bath, a pleased feeling inside him. Frank was going to be surprised!

***

Frank went back to his room after telling Joe to get into the tub, and immediately spotted what his brother had left for him. It would’ve been just about impossible to miss it; bright red construction paper on a white pillowcase was pretty obvious. Frank quickly pulled on his pajamas, just in case someone came up to check on him, then went over to the bed and picked up the piece of paper.

It was a card, he realized, sitting down with a smile. It had been made in a hurry, and some of the lines were wobbly from lack of practice, but the sentiment was clear enough. The pictures on the front showed a variety of different activities- many of them things they’d done today. A skateboard, a baseball and bat, a bike, a treehouse... Frank opened it to see what was inside. The smile dropped from his face and his eyes burned. On the left side, two little boys, hand in hand. The taller one with dark hair walking in front of the shorter, blond one. On the right side, the words, ‘Thank you for taking such good care of me, big brother. Love, Joe.’ And underneath that, in smaller letters, ‘Thank you isn’t big enough, but I can’t think of any other way to say it.’ The words ‘big enough’ were underlined.

The eleven-year-old gazed at the card for a very long time. Very gradually, his expression changed from one of slightly embarrassed pleasure to wistful sorrow. ‘I took care of him- but now he can see again. He doesn’t need me to take care of him anymore.’

Why the thought made him sad, Frank didn’t know. He’d been wishing and hoping for Joe’s sight to come back for weeks, and now it had. Frank wasn’t awful enough to change his mind and wish it hadn’t, but now he understood why Mom had looked so sad when Joe kept saying he didn’t need her help. Sure, Joe had wanted to spend all that time today with him, but once he got used to seeing again- in a day or two- it’d go back to how it was before.

Sighing, the boy carefully put the card on his desk, where he could see it. He flopped back down on the bed, gazed for a moment at the big book he’d been reading to his brother, and shook his head. Joe could read it by himself now. Another little pang went through him at the thought. Frank bit his lip, then grabbed up a different book and sat with his back against the wall to try and read it. He didn’t have much luck, though. He was too blue.

Frank was staring into space, thinking his gloomy thoughts, when a small, pajama-clad figure stepped into the room. The dark-haired boy blinked, then smiled at his brother as Joe bounded onto the bed and dropped down beside him. "Hi!"

"Hi yourself, bouncy." Frank put the book down. "Thanks for the card."

As one might have expected, Joe turned red. Redder, since he was already pink-cheeked from the bath. "Y’welcome," he mumbled, ducking his head against Frank’s arm. The eleven-year-old made the best of the chance and put his arm around Joe.

"I like the picture," he said softly. "You’re good at drawing."

"Thanks," the blond boy responded shyly, snuggling up and pulling his feet underneath him. Changing the subject, he asked, "You reading that?" and pointed to the book lying half-forgotten beside Frank.

"I was sorta, but I was mostly thinking."

"Is it as adventurous as that one?" Joe nodded at ‘The Chamber of Secrets’, the second in the famous ‘Harry Potter’ series.

"Not by a long shot," Frank began, and then he stopped and looked over into the most innocent blue eyes he’d ever seen. "Is that a hint?" he inquired.

"Hint? Me?" Joe looked aghast. "I just thought that, since you were already reading it..."

Frank wasn’t fooled for a second, of course, and a smile crossed his face again. "You know, you could read it by yourself," he pointed out.

"Yeah, but you do the voices so good..." Joe gave Frank one of those puppy-dog looks that he was so good at. Frank could never resist that look, and he didn’t really want to anyway.

"Well, okay, pass it over," he replied, still smiling. Joe eagerly leaned over to grab up the big book, then cuddled back up against Frank’s side and listened intently as the older boy found his place and started to read.

***

"Bedtime," Mom’s voice said quietly, and both the Hardy boys looked up with a jolt of surprise. Mom was standing in the doorway, smiling at them. Joe glanced over at Frank and saw that his brother was blushing slightly. He wondered about that for a moment as he uncurled himself and stretched. Maybe Frank didn’t want anyone else to hear him doing all the funny character voices.

"Goodnight," he said quietly, leaning over to hug the older boy. Frank dropped the book and hugged back; as Joe slid off the bed and went out of the room, Frank’s light went out and there was a rustling as he got under the covers.

Mom walked down to Joe’s room and tucked him in, giving him a goodnight kiss. "You’ll be going to see the doctor on Tuesday," she told him. "And it won’t hurt," she added before he could ask. Joe relaxed.

"Good. It hurt enough when I was in the hospital," he replied firmly.

Mom nodded. "Sleep well, honey." Her hand stroked his cheek and then she kissed him again. "I’m so glad you can see again!" Her smile looked a little wobbly as she left the room. A few minutes later, Dad came in and gave him a hug, then closed the door as he left.

For a while, Joe lay awake, listening to the sounds of the house and watching the moonlight in his window. Mom and Dad came upstairs. Someone took a shower. Someone went back downstairs again- probably Dad, setting the alarm. Then he came back up and the bedroom door closed at the end of the hall. The moon moved on, leaving the window dark and empty.

Dark and empty... Joe gazed around his room, feeling anxiety tingle in his stomach. He could see. Even in this dark, he could see his closet and desk, the dresser and night-table.

But would he still be able to see in the morning?

‘Of course I will,’ he told himself quickly, but the idea still nagged at him. ‘My eyes are better now.’ But he couldn’t help remembering what his mother had said this morning. He hadn’t had any headaches or pains in his eyes all day, but the thought didn’t reassure him; Mom had clearly been worried that his sight might vanish again. The ten-year-old tried to reassure himself with what Dad had said, that his eyes would work- if maybe not quite as well now- but what if they didn’t? What if he woke up and it was all empty blackness again?

Once lodged in his mind, the idea would not leave. It just grew more awful to think about. Joe lay in his bed, shivering under the covers, not daring to close his eyes for more than a blink. Finally he couldn’t stand it anymore. Sliding out of bed, he slipped out of his room and hurried down the hall to the one person who could always soothe his fears.

***

Frank was almost asleep when he heard his door creak open. Startled, he opened his eyes in time to see a small, ghostly figure drop to its knees beside his bed. "Frank?" the small voice whispered shakily.

"I’m awake," he whispered back. He was taking a much longer time to fall asleep tonight than usual, his mind falling back into the mood of depression he’d experienced earlier. "What’s wrong?" He felt the same lift of spirits as he had before, when he’d read to Joe. His little brother still needed him- for a while longer, at any rate.

"I’m scared," Joe whimpered, and Frank’s good feeling vanished completely, leaving guilt behind it. He pulled back the covers and his brother crawled in, trembling.

"It’s okay," Frank tried to calm him, tugging the covers back up over them both and then draping his arm over Joe. "It’s okay, Joey. Why’re you scared? Did you have a dream?"

"No." Joe sniffed, huddling next to him. "I’m scared to go to sleep. I’m scared that if I sleep, I’ll wake up blind again."

Frank’s eyes went wide in the darkness. That was a horrible thought! "That would be terrible," he murmured, a chill going down his back. "But...Joey, I really don’t think you will. The doctor fixed your eyes, and it took them a while to get better enough to start working right. Now they are. They might not be quite as sharp as they used to be, but you haven’t hurt them again. So now that they are working, they won’t just suddenly stop again. You’d have to have another firecracker for that. And that’s definitely not gonna happen- I’m not letting anyone with a firecracker come near you!"

A few moments of silence went by; Frank could feel his brother’s shivers easing as he thought about the situation. "You- you’re prob’ly right," Joe whispered at last. "But it’s still scary. I went to sleep last night and woke up with my sight; I can’t help thinking maybe it’s going to undo while I’m sleeping tonight!"

"Actually, what you’re doing is giving them a chance to rest and maybe get stronger," Frank encouraged. "Maybe when you wake up, there won’t be as much fuzziness when you read. And maybe they won’t get tired so easy."

Joe’s breath made a startled little sound; encouraged, Frank continued. "It’s just like when you play baseball and hurt your arm throwing and you go to sleep and in the morning, your arm hardly hurts at all, and the next day it’s all better. Or, really, like when you’re tired, so you sleep and then you wake up and want to do seventy-eight things at the same time."

Joe giggled softly. "Eighty-eight!"

"A hundred and eight," Frank teased. He felt his brother’s arms wrap around him in a grateful hug. Joe’s shivers had stopped completely; after a moment, he yawned.

"Thanks, big brother. I’m glad you take care of me," the little boy murmured.

"Well, you won’t need me to take care of you very much anymore," Frank remarked without really thinking.

"Huh?"

"You can see now," Frank stated the obvious.

"So?"

"So...you don’t need me much."

"Yes I do. I needed you right now," Joe answered reasonably, propping himself up on his elbow and looking curiously at Frank.

"Well, tonight, but I mean, once you get used to seeing again..."

"I’m still gonna need you."

Frank shook his head. "What for? You can see where you’re going. You can read and play by yourself and you’ll be able to do your own homework when we’re at school..." He bit his lip, realizing how sour he sounded. "I don’t mean to sound like I want you to be blind," he added quickly. "It’s just...remember how Mom seemed kinda sad that you kept telling her you didn’t need her help? I kinda understand why, now. It’s- it’s nice when you can help someone- when they let you help ‘em."

"Oh, Frank, that’s different," Joe said softly, with a sort of patient scorn. "Mom wanted to do everything for me. She wanted to button my shorts like I was three! And anyway, even if I can do all that stuff you said, that doesn’t mean I don’t need you around anymore. You make it sound like- like I’m gonna leave you behind and go play with those Crabby brats instead, now that I can see. An’ I’m not."

Frank flushed at the pointed reminder. "Well, I didn’t mean that, but- like, are you still gonna want me to read to you, when you can do it perfectly well by yourself? You know you like to do things on your own, without help."

"I like how you read to me," Joe answered simply. "I like doing stuff with you. Maybe you don’t need to tell me to go left or right, but we can still walk together, can’t we?" Now there was a hint of anxiety in his voice. "Frank," he added before the older boy could say anything, "Remember how Mom asked why I didn’t want to wake them up this morning and tell them, but waited till they came down?"

"Yeah..."

"It was ‘cause I wanted to be with you. I knew they’d be happy, but you were the one who watched out for me, so I just wanted to get used to seeing again with you around- and nobody else."

Frank sat up in the bed and looked into his brother’s shy, earnest face. Joe had wanted to share that wonderful happiness with him- and only with him. The eleven-year-old experienced a feeling that was greater than pride: humility. He must have done something quite special for Joe to think that way, but to Frank’s mind, all he’d done was what he could do. Helped as much as he could.

"I think you’re a wonderful brother," he said at last, feeling inadequate. "And that’s definitely not big enough, either, but..."

"Oh, you’re a great brother. And you’re my best friend. And you’re my detective partner, too, and you stick up for me, and you help me with stuff I don’t understand, and you never say my nightmares are silly and I shouldn’t be scared, and you’re the person I trusted..." Joe paused for a breath. "And then you say I won’t need you?" Now he sounded a little hurt.

"I guess I made a mistake," Frank murmured, as much chagrined as relieved. "You won’t need me to say what’s around you, or which way to go, but for other stuff..."

"Lots of other stuff. More than before, too, now that Dad’s teaching us to be detectives. You explain things better than he does, sometimes. And you’re not away much, either," Joe finished with a slightly teasing note in his voice.

"Are you saying you trust me more than Dad?" Frank was astounded.

"And Mom."

"But...?" The idea was almost unthinkable. Kids were supposed to trust their grown-ups- even if the grown-ups did do silly or weird things sometimes. Grown-ups were in charge, and they were experienced; they knew what was right and wrong. They were the ones who took care of kids and helped them when things were wrong or bad.

Joe sighed, obviously feeling impatient. "Because you were there! Always. Right when I needed you. And you knew why I was scared. And when I said ‘don’t help me’, you didn’t argue. You just let me try for myself, and when I couldn’t do it, you didn’t say ‘I told you so’, you just helped me. And you made sure I never got hurt or lost. And when we did stuff, it was stuff we could do together, even though I couldn’t see." He paused for a moment, color visible in his cheeks even in the darkness. "And you...made me feel safe. You hugged me, and stayed near me, and you let me sleep in here where I wasn’t so scared. That’s why! Dad wasn’t home, so he couldn’t do any of that. And you know how Mom was."

Frank nodded slowly, dazzled. Joe really did trust him more than he trusted their parents! He suddenly thought that he knew how Joe must have felt when he opened his eyes to see sunlight that morning: incredulous, awed, exultant. "Yeah," he managed after a moment. "I know how she was...Joe, I didn’t know I was doing anything so wonderful, I just wanted to help and make it less scary for you. I’m so glad it worked. And I’m glad you still want me to look out for you-"

"That’s what partners do, remember?" Joe whispered, leaning over to hug him tightly. "They need each other to look after ‘em."

"I shoulda remembered," Frank admitted sheepishly, hugging back. Of course; detective partners had to trust each other more than anyone else, because their lives might depend on it. Just like his life had already depended on Joe, once. He let out a huge sigh, feeling immensely content and suddenly very sleepy. "Let’s go to sleep."

"Okay..." Joe hesitated, chewing on his lower lip.

"Yes," the dark-haired boy answered the unspoken question. "You can stay with me if you want." He lay down on his side, facing the door, and smiled as Joe settled down beside him. Within minutes, the younger boy was deeply asleep, breathing peacefully, and the sound lulled Frank into slumber.

END

A/N: So which was the most precious gift? The gift of sight? Or the gift of trust? You decide.