hardy boys fan fiction

NOT ONCE, BUT TWICE

hardy boys nancy drew fan fiction

by

hbfan26

The Story

hardy boys fan fiction

THE CHAPTERS

INTRO

THE STORY

Disclaimer: I don’t own the Hardy Boys, and I definitely don’t make any money from them…

They say the more you do a thing the easier it gets. The more you experience the less you react. That’s what they say anyway.

The first time had been unbearable. The pain, the absolute gut-wrenching-soul-destroying-absolute-despair that totally enveloped his whole being not allowing in any other emotions…..and then the guilt, oh god the agonising horrific guilt, the likes of which he had never known possible..the guilt weighed down on him like a solid block of concrete sitting on both shoulders and pressing him slowly to the ground until he could see no way out.

Looking at that car exploding, seeing the anger in her eyes, watching her die and then watching her coffin as it was lowered gently into the ground. Nothing could ever be worse, right, nothing could ever ever match that feeling, and nothing could ever be as bad….

That was it; right there was the worst moment of his life thus far. There were no words to define it. There was nothing that he could really say to anyone, no way of verbalising his feelings; that ball of pain which sat in his stomach, the despair which seemed to continuously wash over him in waves, even months afterwards.

He could be eating breakfast and read something in the paper that he would know she was interested in, and remember that he couldn’t tell her about it later and there all of sudden his stomach would churn as that horrible feeling of total and utter devastation would wash through him….

And so it happened and so it passed and eventually it got easier…..and eventually she wasn’t the first thing he though about every morning and the last thing he though about at night, and he didn’t see her face in every shop window and every mirror he passed, and he didn’t wake up in the night crying as he watched the car explode again and again and again.

It just got easier. It has to. People expect it to….You learn to cope and you close away that little part of your heart and only open it every once in a while.

Maybe he was changed because of it, a little tougher, a little less emotional, because he had to be. It was the only way he could cope.

And then she came back. Standing there in front of him with a gun pointed at his chest, standing there looking like Iola… Iola’s eyes, her hair, everything.

Except they were in the middle of nowhere in some kind of freaky psycho mental institution, they’d already dug their own graves, fought each others clones, given away information…neither of them could truly understand what was happening, they were caught up in the work of people who’s ideas and objectives were so tightly guarded that even they themselves seemed to have lost sight of their objectives.

The Lazurus Clinic was full of lies and secrets, secrets that they forced people to tell, lies that they spun to get those secrets, lies they told each other, secrets that no-one was supposed to tell and everyone knew and others that people desperately needed to know and would never be told.

And this….girl….Iola….she was standing there as plain as day, as if she’d never died, as if there had never been any explosion…

It wasn’t Iola. Not really. Frank knew from the moment he saw her. Joe had known it too, but part of him, that little part of his heart that he’d locked away had suddenly opened up again, just a little, just a crack…but only for a moment, just for a few minutes.

It was like a small child peeping into his mothers jewellary box, he know’s he shouldn’t go it, but there is  moment of excitement, of pure joy when he opens the box just a little and the gold and silver shine up at him….and then just as quickly he snaps the box shut and runs away.

Joe could feel himself closing up once again…it wasn’t Iola. Just another girl, just some poor girl caught up in the secrets and lies.

It was hard though, harder than he had expected to persuade her to hand over the gun, to fool her into thinking that he believed her and then, oh god! standing there with his arms around her, leading her out of the clinic, hand in hand like they had been just months previously. It was like a dream, or a nightmare, or maybe a little of both…

Poor Frank, how much can one brother cope with, he joked once that Frank would be better off joining one of those communes on a remote pacific island where they don’t speak and spend all their days in silent contemplation. At least then he would get some time to himself and his own problems, and he wouldn’t have to spend so much time worrying about everyone elses.

So there you are, a girlfriend lost not once but twice…hardly the same thing as losing your wallet in a restaurant was it?...not really something to joke about either…

He went to visit her almost 3 weeks later, he hadnt told anyone, just decided one day. He knew where she was likely to be, the psychiatric wing of Bayport Memorial, and that’s where he found her. The girl who looked like Iola still looking like Iola…

They talked a little. She was very confused. Her family were there, they’d just gone out to lunch…Joe was careful to leave before they came back, he didn’t want to face them, he didn’t really want to be involved, he…he just had to see her..

In a way, she didn’t look so much like Iola anymore…her eyes, her eyes were different. Iola’s eyes used to dance, they sparkled and shone and danced, this girl’s eyes were weary and sad.

He could see that part of her still thought she was Iola Morton and there were flashes of recognition, times where she truly believed that this boy sitting beside her in the room was her boyfriend.

Then the greater rational part of her mind would kick in and she would withdraw into herself… She would talk about her old life, her family, her boyfriend back home, what she wanted to do in the future…and he could see so clearly then that she was not Iola Morton, she was just a girl who got caught up in the middle of a nightmare..….

He left after about an hour…and the last person he expected to see leaning up against the driver door of their van was Frank.  That’s was the thing about Frank, he had a habit of surprising people.

Sometimes you have to leave it all behind; cruel as it may sound you have to take the good bits and bring them with you and leave everything else behind.

And sometimes you just need a friend.

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