Hardy Boys Fan Fiction at the HDA - Brain Child

Ezra Collig took a shaky breath and leaned against the police building, a place that had served very much as his second home for almost a quarter of a century. Normally, it was a place that brought stability and comfort. But not now. Now, as he looked around at the wreckage of what once was Callie Shaw's car in the parking lot, and saw the swarms of officers and medical personnel trying to get everything in order, he could barely believe that he even knew this place.

Swallowing hard, he placed his shaking hands in his pants pockets. He couldn't articulate his thoughts; all he knew was the tremendous guilt that was weighing heavily in his heart. I could have stopped this. I SHOULD have stopped this.

It was all too much for him. His once acclaimed officer, a young man whom he'd treated as his own child, had seemingly betrayed him; had somehow become a criminal of the worst kind. Or had he? Had everything that had gone down hours ago in the building been an illusion? After all, Daley's brother had confessed. DNA evidence had proven his guilt. Really, they had nothing on Daley.

But it didn’t matter. Daley was gone now, presumably killed in the car explosion. Callie Shaw was dead, too. And along with her tragic, still incomprehensible death, were the shattered remains of a family he cared very, very deeply about.

Looking over, he saw Fenton Hardy head toward him. Nodding his head slowly, he acknowledged his presence.

Fenton approached, his pale face barely masking the deep despair and pain in his eyes. Fenton stood next to him, and raised his own trembling hands to his eyes, rubbing them, seemingly trying to gain some insight, some understanding, as to what had just happened. He was speechless.

For a moment they were not detective and Police Chief, but two old friends joined in a shared sorrow too deep for words.

"We'll look after Frank," Ezra managed.

Fenton nodded and turned slowly to his friend. Ezra was shocked to see the tears in his eyes.

"What'll happen to my boy now? I... I thought this could never happen again."

Ezra reached over and slung an arm around Fenton's shoulders. "We should go," he managed in response.

Fenton shook his head in disbelief and exhaled a shaky breath. How would he do this? How could he? But he had to. And he hoped to God he had the strength to carry through with it.

Together, Ezra and Fenton headed over to the awaiting police cruiser. They had to tell the Shaws, in person, that their daughter was gone.

They both wondered if this was what it felt like in hell…

*****

Joe sat inside the building in Chief Collig's personal office, having been escorted –ordered- there close to a half hour ago. He knew that an officer was guarding the room outside, creating a mini jail, not letting him out on his father's orders. It didn't matter; he had absolutely no strength left to fight anyway.

Staring forlornly out the window, he inadvertently flashed back to the events of the last few hours.

Frank.

He remembered using every bit of strength he had to hold his brother down and that no matter how he tried, he couldn't do it. With seemingly superhuman strength and an equally steely resolve, Frank had broken free. In absolute horror, he watched as his brother headed for the inferno.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone tackle Frank again and take him down. How, he didn't know. At once, he got up and started to run for his brother. The heat was overwhelming.

Before he could even get started, he felt arms grab him around his chest from behind. What the HELL was happening?

"LET ME GO." He shouted those words, over and over, caught in the moment; caught in the past.

The arms didn't move.

He was strong; he knew that. What—who—was holding him back?

He felt himself being dragged backwards as he fought all the way.

"Stop. STOP!" A voice whispered—shouted?—in his ear.

He didn't stop.

It wasn't until the car and the fire was a good deal in the distance that the fight left him. For a moment.

He felt the arms tighten on him from behind.

"Frank's okay. He's OKAY."

It was his dad.

What? What was he talking about? The silence all around him, despite the primitive movements by officers he was beginning to see all over, was astoundingly deafening.

The world was on fire. His soul felt like ice.

Suddenly he didn't know what was real or make believe any more. If Frank was okay, why did he have an overwhelming NEED to get back to that car?

Confusion reigned. He felt sick.

Suddenly, his dad turned him around and held him tightly.

"No—no," Joe managed, trying to break free.

Fenton held him tighter. Since when was his dad this strong?

"She's gone. Joe, son, she's gone." He said it again and again.

At once it dawned on him and he felt his knees go weak. Were it not for his father, he would have collapsed on the ground.

His dad was not talking about Callie.

Then reality hit him with such force he felt his breath taken away. It was NOW. This was not Iola driving him to the brink of madness. In some weird and cruel twist of fate, Callie had just suffered the same fate as Iola.

He actually felt his mind begin to split, his current self fighting his seventeen year old self. He needed his big brother. NO! He had to save his big brother! Iola! Callie! Screaming. Silence. Fire. Ice. What was real? I can't breathe. I can't BREATHE.

The thoughts descended upon him, overwhelming him with grief and confusion.

He didn't know where it came from, but all at once he found himself sobbing on his father's shoulder. "Daddy," he cried. He hadn't called his father that since he was five.

Fenton just held him for who knew how long? Five minutes- ten- an hour? Time had no meaning.

His dad had somehow led him into the building, guiding him slowly. He had no more fight in him. He would have moved heaven and earth to get to his brother, but his dad's words echoed over and over.

"Joe," he'd said as soon as they were inside. He would have wondered where everyone was, but it dawned on him that somehow his dad or the Chief had purposely cleared the room, giving them space.

He'd put his hands on Joe's face and met his eyes.

"You need to get yourself together, son."

God, Callie had said the same thing not a day before.

Now, though, Callie was gone.

As his dad looked at him. Joe saw the fear—the terror—in his eyes and he realized that he must have frightened the hell out of him. As if the whole scenario wasn't torture enough, he knew his dad feared for him that he had really lost his mind. It almost made him smile, but it didn't. Instead, he wanted to cry. He felt so vulnerable, and he loathed it.

Finally, he calmed down and forced himself to breathe deeply. He was spent, exhausted to the bone. But he was sane, and his dad saw it. All he had to cling to were his father's words.

"You okay?" Fenton asked finally, releasing him and freeing Joe to sit down at the desk.

Joe nodded.

"You listen to me, Joseph." Fenton's words were forceful despite the fact that his voice was trembling.

Joe had no choice but to look; to listen.

"I am having Frank taken to the hospital as we speak."

"Wh- Why?" he stammered. Then he knew and he turned cold again. Suicide watch.

Fenton didn't answer, but continued. "I need your help, Joe. Please," his dad begged.

Confused, Joe could only stare.

"If I lose you, I lose Frank. He NEEDS you, Joe. I… I don't know how to help him. Only YOU can do that. This… this burden I'm placing on you to save your brother—I know it’s not right. But Joe," his father went on, tears in his eyes, "I HAVE to ask. You're both my life. And even someone as strong as your brother might not get through this. Callie is DEAD." He choked on the word.

Joe felt tears slip onto his cheeks.

"Be strong. Be STRONG," he emphasized. "I know we all want to die ourselves right now, but I can't lose you—either of you."

Wiping at his eyes, Joe weakly stood up and gave his father a hug.

"You won't," he managed. "I just need a little time to sort things out. I just saw my whole life flash back into a nightmare, and then I learned that it's real. Again." He met his dad's eyes. "I'll get to Frank. I HAVE to." He meant it.

"Thank you," Fenton whispered, hating himself for the burden he had placed upon one son to save the other. Rubbing the back of Joe's head, he whispered, "Your daddy loves you."

He turned and left the room, leaving Joe to fight his demons so that they wouldn't make their way to Frank.

*****

Joe barely had time to recover from his reverie before there was a frantic, hurried knock on the door. Just as he turned his gaze from the window, he saw a police officer nod to him in acknowledgment as he ushered a still sobbing Vanessa into the room. As soon as she entered, the officer politely turned away and closed the door.

"Joe!" Vanessa bellowed, tears running down her face, streaking her mascara. The effect was almost comic as the raccoon eyes looked out. Yet it was not remotely funny, as he saw at once that she looked like a wounded, terrified animal that was caught between attack and defeat.

At once, he gathered her in his arms and pulled her close. Feeling her shaking and trying to control her body wracked with sobs was almost too much for him.

Be strong. His father's words—Callie's words—echoed over and over. If I believe it, maybe it'll come true.

Finally, after what seemed like a long time, she pulled back from him and looked him in the eyes, both hands still clinging firmly to his.

"Wh—Why?" she managed.

"I don't know," he whispered, squeezing her hands.

"B…but I can't believe it! I don't know how much more I can take," she sobbed, releasing Joe's hand only long enough to wipe her red- rimmed eyes.

"I know," Joe responded softly, surprised at the strength his voice was conveying despite his own sorrow.

"No, I mean it." Vanessa stood up and took a few shaky steps, pausing only long enough to stare out the window that Joe had just come from.

I hope she finds the meaning in the sky that I couldn't, he prayed silently.

He stood up, carried, it seemed, by some supernatural force, and stood behind Vanessa, again wrapping his arms around her.

"I lost my dad once," she said softly into the air, not moving her eyes from outside. "And I thought that was the worst thing that would ever happen to me. I prayed and I prayed, every night, to have him back. I was angry, you know? And bitter. And I hated life and me and--- and HIM, for leaving me." She shook her head and shuddered as the memories came flooding back.

Joe squeezed her tighter, saying nothing. Vanessa never spoke about her past, and he knew that she needed to say what was on her mind.

She surprised him when she turned around and faced him. It broke his heart to see her in this much pain. The only comfort that he could offer was to share in it.

"I moved to Bayport and slowly, I adjusted. But it wasn't until I met YOU that I thought life might just be worth living again." She smiled sadly, shakily, but went on. "And through you, I gained an extended family. And now… Callie…"She choked back the name. "I lost my best friend, Joe. I lost… my sister."

Joe just reached out and held her. The last phrase she'd uttered ran through his mind, and he forced back the lump in his throat.

"I know," he said at last, pulling back to look at her. "But I can't bring her back. I just hope to God I haven't lost my brother, too."

They stayed together, united in suffering, for a long, long time.

*****

Hours later, Joe found himself outside the psych ward waiting to see his brother. His dad had called him, barely able to speak, to let him know that Frank was apparently being uncooperative and trying to get out. Fenton had left it up to Joe to decide if Frank should be released.

Now, as his dad and Vanessa waited outside in the lobby, Joe took a deep breath. His brother was in the PSYCH ward. His brother, probably the most sane person he'd ever met, the man who, as a kid, had convinced him that there were no demons or monsters to be afraid of in the dark.

That's because he hadn't known darkness. That's because the monsters had never come to get him.

Tears burned his eyes and he took a few moments to compose himself. Despite his father's, Vanessa's, unwavering faith in him to get through to Frank, he had absolutely no idea what he was going to say, to do.

He desperately tried to remember how Frank had pulled him through all those years ago. Had he done anything special? Had he said the right words? Or had he just—been there?

The events of the day were overwhelming. He'd thought of Iola often over the years, felt the pain of her loss deeply, but time had helped him heal the wounds. Or maybe it wasn't Time. Maybe it was Vanessa. Frank. Callie. Again, his eyes burned at the thought.

What the HELL was he supposed to say? I'm sorry. I want to cry, too. I loved her, too, Frank. It'll be okay. Yeah, right. That would be the biggest lie of all. If there was one, tragic fact that was a certainty in all of this, it was that his kind, lighthearted, genuinely good brother would be forever altered by this day.

And he couldn't stand it.

He wanted to break into pieces for the second loss of Iola in that fiery flame. For his brother, who didn't yet even know pain. For Callie, sweet, funny, innocent Callie who was so senselessly taken away. And though he didn't want to admit it, he wanted to cry for himself, for losing a brother whom he knew would never, ever be the same.

Taking a deep breath, he composed himself again. He hadn't seen his brother until this point. He decided to do what he did best—wing it, and pray that he could handle the outcome.

He knocked on the door and entered, not waiting for a response.

Of all the things he was expecting, this was NOT it. He had prepared himself to have Frank silent and brooding, to watch him, for the first time, completely break down. He'd been prepared to be a punching bag, or a safe haven. He was prepared to let Frank talk or to sit with him in silence.

What he hadn't expected was to see Frank sitting on the recliner, papers in his hand, looking—acting—perfectly normal.

"It's about time you got here," Frank said, annoyed. "They have this 24 hour thing that won't allow me to sign myself out. I couldn't get hold of Dad. Are you ready to go?" He stood up.

Shocked, Joe could only stare. Finally he managed, "What are those?" referring to the papers in his brother's hand.

"The release forms. I've already filled them out and taken care of insurance issues. Okay? Can we go?"

"Uh…" Joe stammered, feeling like an idiot. Insurance forms? Release papers? Ignoring the fact that you almost died, the woman you were going to take as your wife was dead, and the fact that you were being locked up in a hospital?

Sensing his brother's confusion, Frank smiled. He SMILED. "I'm not crazy, Joe."

"But…" Joe whispered.

"Yes?" Frank asked, as if this whole situation was perfectly normal.

"Frank, Callie…." He began, but was silenced at once by Frank.

"She's fine, Joe. I just have to get to her."

"What?!" Joe cried. "No, Frank. She…"

"Stop!" Frank cut in with such forcefulness that Joe was stopped mid-sentence.

It was then that he saw it. Somewhere, deep, deep in his brother's eyes, flashed the most transitory flash of pain, of recognition. It was so quick that he almost didn't notice it. But he did.

Frank knew. He was in such a deep shock he was beyond numb, allowing himself to pretend to survive.

God, I did the same thing.

In that one moment, Joe's world changed. His brother stood in front of him, confidant and secure, hiding a truth that would shatter him to the core, a truth so deep it didn't want to come out.

But he knew it would come out, eventually.

And who was he to bring it about faster than necessary? If this is what it took to save Frank even one moment of pain, it was worth it. He didn't need to grieve now; he'd have a whole lifetime for that.

He knew what he needed to do. "So where do we go from here?" he asked Frank, who looked unconsciously so relieved that Joe felt his heart break.

"There are so many unanswered questions," Frank went on. "I still need to assess the DNA angle. We still need to understand Daley's involvement in everything, as well as Jimmy Dee's. I want to know what happened… why she…" His brother's voice broke for the smallest instant, "was upset. I need to know. I need closure. Because I need to get to her. You understand?" His voice sounded factual, but it held the faintest undertone of pleading.

He DID understand. He wished he didn't.

All roads would lead to Callie, one way or another.

"I'll help you," Joe managed. It was the truth, after all.

"We can go?" Frank asked, stated.

"Yes," he answered. His brother was in his own personal jail, living with a sentence that had been so unfairly handed down to him. A death penalty. What did physical walls matter anyhow?

And if it helped Frank to get answers, as inconsequential as they now were, so be it. They gave him a reason to hope. And that gave him a reason to live.

As they signed out, Joe rubbed his eyes, exhausted beyond anything he'd ever felt in his life. He went to follow Frank, who was already heading to the elevator.

He glanced at the clock. 11:17 p.m.

September 28^th.

Then it hit him. As Frank descended on the elevator, Joe fell to his knees.

It was years ago at 11:17 a.m. that his life changed forever.

She was here. He FELT her.

Iola.

And it would have been her twenty-second birthday.

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.