Author’s note: Well, the Hardys are just not the Hardys without a little bit of mystery and detective work. So here it is. Frank has a few little mysteries to work out in the aftermath. Most of the loose ends should be covered here. And I promised a Frank story, did I not?

I open my eyes and squint against the faint light of the sun.

Where am I?

I hear voices. Then someone is there, kneeling down before me. And he is talking urgently into his mouthpiece. “Get the paramedics in here, now! We have a survivor, repeat, we have a survivor…”

I try to move, but end up groaning in pain. My guts hurt. My throat is dry and my body aches.

“Relax, just relax, you’re safe now…help will be here soon, you’ll be fine…”

I fade back into the darkness.

*****

I am only half awake, but I know I am in a hospital. I can smell that antiseptic smell. I try to open my eyes but I cannot. I can still feel the drugs, the sedatives and the painkillers, coursing through my system.

But I can hear them talking.

“… he must have been held there a long time.”

“Those people are just sick...”

What happened to me?

“Do we know who he is yet?”

Was it all a dream?

“Yes, we matched his prints to a Frank Hardy…his family’s been informed. They are rushing here…they thought he died just over a year back…”

No, it’s real…

“Hardy? As in Fenton Hardy?”

“Yes. This one’s the elder son.”

“He’s one good detective….I wonder what convinced him of his son’s death?”

“DNA evidence…the remains of a lock of hair at the site of an explosion.”

It’s real, all of it…

“Ah…”

“The family seems to be having a run of tragedy recently.”

“What happened?”

“The younger son went missing two days ago, apparently on the morning of his birthday. No one knows how he was taken from his own bed.”

Oh no… Joe…

“Will he be all right?”

That voice! I know that voice!

“He’s a little anemic, but that’s understandable from the blood loss he sustained from his injuries. A little dehydrated, but that’s easily taken care of. The deep wound on his side is a little more of a worry. The key concern is the risk of infection; otherwise, with proper rest he should make a full recovery.”

Dad?

“Thank God…”

“You might want to consider some counseling for what he has gone through…”

“I will…and thanks, Dr. Henderson.”

“You’re welcome. He should be waking up soon.”

I can feel a gentle hand ruffle my hair in a familiar manner. I can feel a soft finger tracing my features.

“Will he be all right, Fent?”

“He will be, Laur…”

“God, what are we going to tell him about Joe?”

“When he’s strong enough, we tell him the truth.”

“But…”

“Frank’s twenty and he will not want us to treat him as a child…and this time, as long as there is no body, we will continue to search for Joe. And Laur… I will not repeat the same mistake as I did with Frank.”

Oh Dad… if only you knew…

“Do you think Joe’s still alive?”

Oh God… did I kill him? Did I? Did I?

“Yes, honey, Joe’s still alive. He’s still alive for as long as we have no absolute evidence that says otherwise.”

I hope so, Dad, I hope so… please let it be so…

“Frank! Fent, he’s waking up…”

I feel her hands gently touching my face, brushing away my tears.

“Frank…hush…you’re safe, baby, you’re safe and home…”

Mom, Dad, I try to call out. The words refuse to form. A dry rattling sound escapes my sore throat.

“Just relax son, you need to rest and recover…we can talk later.”

I look into their concerned eyes for only a short while, and then I turn away to simply stare at the sunlight coming in through the window. I do not want them to see the shame and guilt in my eyes.

I cry.

I just let the tears flow, and let them comfort me.

*****

I am in the psychiatric ward.

It’s been a week. My physical wound has healed nicely. But I have not spoken since that initial attempt to call out to my parents. I have refused to meet my parents’ eyes since that initial eye contact. I am too ashamed to. And the fear and guilt of what might have happened to Joe weighs heavily on me.

The psychiatrist came and went. Still I keep my silence.

They are all correct to be worried about me. It only makes me feel guiltier. But I am not ready to return to the world I left behind a year ago. I am not ready to face it…not without Joe.

Joe…How is he?

No, he can’t be dead! He won’t leave me here to live on alone. I know he won’t! And I will know if he’s really gone, won’t I? My heart will know….

But if Joe is alive, why isn’t he here?

Is he hiding from me? Did I turn him into a creature of the night after all? Did he trade lives with me? Is that it?

So many questions!

And why did they leave me alone to be found? And Jana…and Jonah…and Jana, Jana....

‘Frank…You were a detective. An amateur detective, but a damned good one. What happened to him?’

That’s a good question, Jana!

What happened to me?

I got lost.

I sit up straighter in my bed, and glance at the clock.

Jana’s right. I am a detective! And I am sure they are expecting me to be able to figure out what happened and help them keep the other world a secret. I know that Jana and Jonah both enrolled in Bayport High last year and where they lived during that year. I am sure I can track down the truth from there.

I feel the old tingle of excitement whenever I was confronted with a mystery and a problem rise in me again. That is a good feeling.

First, I have to get out of here.

I look at the clock again.

Good, my parents will be here soon for their daily visit.

I can’t wait for them to arrive.

Time has a way of crawling so agonizingly slowly when you need it to fly. I glance at that darn clock for the hundredth, mayhap the thousandth time.

It is so difficult to remain calm and patient. But I have to. I know that if I exhibit any signs of agitation or whatever; I will probably end up staying here longer than I want to.

And I refuse to allow that. Not when there is so much for me to do out there.

Finally, I hear the sounds of the door being open. I whirl around to see my parents entering the room.

I look [at] them straight in the eye, and call out to them:

“Mom, Dad…”

I can see their surprise and joy.

I feel a little guilty for making them worry.

“I’m so sorry, Mom, Dad,” I tell them simply.

Then I feel that stinging sensation behind my eyes. I let the tears flow, and relish [in] the feel of the wetness streaking down my cheeks. This act of shedding tears that I once considered a weakness is now an ability I treasure and cherish and...

I am truly human again.

“I’m back, Mom, I’m back, Dad, I’m really back…” I choke out those words in between my sobs as I move towards them to engulf them both in a bear hug. “I’m ready to go home…”

Breaking down like that is a little unexpected. But it does make me feel better. I guess that is all that matters.

“Oh Frank, baby…”

“Frank…Son…good to have you back…”

And the three of us just stand there, just holding on to each other for a long, long while.

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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.