“Dang-nabit!” Francis grunted as he sucked in a deep breath and tried to button up the front of his shirt, “What’d you wash this with? Dang thing’s shrunk!”

“More like you’ve expanded,” Agnes commented as she watched in amusement while her husband tried unsuccessfully to put on his old police uniform.

“Expanded, my butt!“ the man scoffed as he took off the shirt and tossed it on the bed, his face a bit red from exertion.

“That too,” the woman chuckled as she picked up the discarded shirt and started to put it back on the hanger. She appraised her frustrated-looking husband and felt her heart pang with sympathy – she knew he never took this into account when he thought up his ‘brilliant’ plan. “Do you really need to wear the uniform?” she asked.

“Well it would help,” Francis admitted, scowling at the topless reflection of himself in the mirror. He flexed and frowned. “I don’t recall being so – so ‘loose’ before—”  he plucked at the flesh that used to be formidable triceps. “When the hell did this happen? And why wasn’t I informed?”

His wife rolled her eyes and came to stand behind her husband, looking at his reflection in the mirror. She smiled. “Don’t fret too much, Francis. You’ll always be my beefy-boy.”

Francis blushed and then turned to look at her, muttering under his breath as he did so, “That’s the problem…too much beef!” He sighed and added, “I’m still out a shirt.”

“And pants,” his wife pointed out, noticing that he was still in his pajama bottoms.

“Tried them too, but liked breathing too much to keep them on,” the retiree confessed, slumping down on the bed and scrubbing his face in annoyance. “How in the world am I ever supposed to face Frankie again? He’s counting on me to pull this off! I’m the worst grandfather in the whole world,” Francis added dramatically.

Agnes tried to keep from laughing at her melodramatic soul mate. She reached out and touched his shoulder, “Well, you could be an undercover cop – I hear they don’t wear uniforms much.”

Instantly Francis’s eyes lit up. “Of course!” he said, springing to his feet and giving his wife a big hug, “that’s even better! What would I ever do without you?”

“Perish the thought,” Agnes quipped dryly and then reached into the closet and plucked out a white shirt and navy blue tie. When she saw the look of horror cross Francis’s face she shrugged, “What? You were planning on wearing plaid or something? Now get dressed and I’ll get Frankie ready. Your good coat is downstairs. Hurry up, Francis! Fenton said that they were going to let Joey wake up this morning and I don’t want to miss it!”

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” the man said hopping on one foot as he whipped off his pajama bottoms and started to put on a pair of dress pants. “Not exactly how I planned to spend New Year’s Eve,” he grumbled as he did so.

Agnes hurried down the hall to make sure her grandson was ready.

Ten minutes later, the trio left the house and headed towards the hospital.

* * *

Everything hurt. That was the first thing Joe noticed as he slowly regained consciousness. Around him, he could hear muffled voices but they still seemed too far away for him to make out what they were saying or even who they were.

The fleeting image of a dark-haired young boy with almost black eyes, smiled at him and was then gone, replaced with a sucking darkness that threatened to suffocate him, pulling him down into a dark, cold hole –

‘Frankie’ he thought as anxiety filled his body, ‘where’s Frankie?’ The child was overcome with an irrational terror that this had all been a dream and as soon as he opened his eyes, he’d find himself back in the boys’ dorm of Foundling Hall – a state-run facility for children – and that he’d open his eyes to his mirror image smirking at him…

William would be pleased that his latest torment had left the younger boy in so much pain.

‘No, please,’ Joe mentally whimpered. ‘I want Frankie… Frankie’s my brother now – my real brother…’

In an instant he made a decision:  if Frank was a figment of his imagination – if the whole Hardy family was just a dream…then the small child never wanted to wake up again. And with that thought lodged firmly in his mind, Joe squeezed his eyes shut and refused to wake up.

* * *

“Ready?” Francis asked as he knelt down in front of his grandson outside the hospital and slipped a pair of handcuffs on the small boy. The cuffs weren’t child sized and dangled rather uselessly on the thin wrists.

Frank nodded; his dark eyes as somber as they had ever been.

“Okay.”  The ex-cop stood up and straightened his tie. Agnes had already gone inside while he gave the child last-minute instruction before they infiltrated enemy territory. “Remember, Frankie. You gotta stay focused on the task – no matter what! You are the baddest six-year-old in the whole damn state. You are mean—” the child narrowed his eyes menacingly. “You are ill-tempered—”  Frank’s lip curled up in his best scowl. “And you are no one to be messed with—”  The boy actually growled.

Satisfied, the man placed a hand around his grandson’s arm. “Okay boy – let’s go see your brother!”

Agnes turned around in the entranceway and almost doubled over laughing at the image of her young grandson being led towards the hospital in handcuffs. The look on his face was priceless. ‘The only thing missing’, she decided, ‘is a bit of foaming at the mouth!’

Shaking her head, Agnes hurried past the security and triage desks towards the elevators. As much as she would love to hang back and witness this, she was afraid her presence might somehow ruin their charade. Besides which, she hadn’t seen her younger grandson since the prior evening and she was very anxious to get upstairs.

As the elevator door closed, the woman finally let out the laughter she had been holding inside since seeing Francis’ first try to get into his uniform this morning. Still chuckling a few moments later when the doors opened to let her on Joe’s floor, Agnes paused long enough to wish the nursing staff a happy New Year, and then went into her grandson’s room to wait. If all went according to plan, Francis and Frank would be joining them shortly…

* * *

“I’m sorry sir,” a woman’s voice called out as Francis brushed past the triage desk and towards the elevators. Wincing, he plastered a charming smile on his face and turned to meet the young security guard he had just nodded at only moments ago. “Children under twelve are not allowed on the ward floors. It’s a hospital policy.”

“And a damned fine one at that,” the man agreed, keeping a hold of his grandson’s arm. “If all kids are like this punk, you might want to consider rising that age, actually!”

The security guard looked shocked as she seemed to notice the handcuffs for the first time.

With the fluidness that came from a lifetime of experience, Francis flashed his old badge at the girl and said tersely, “Detective Winchester, but you can call me Dean.”

“Well Dean—”  the young security guard never stood a chance as the man cut her off briskly.

“If you’ll excuse me I have to be on my way.”  He punched the button to call the elevator.  “I gotta get this kid to the precinct as soon as possible. Oh, don’t let this innocent little face fool you, this one is the mastermind behind a major crime syndicate – I’m lucky I even caught him without taking some major damage to myself!” He leaned in close to the guard and said conspiratorially, “Mind you, don’t let that get out, as I plan on milking this for all it’s worth. Not every day you get to take down a major crime lord!” The elevator doors slid open and Francis pushed Frank inside before backing in himself. “Anyway, keep up the good work – I’ll put in a word for you at the station. Bye!” The door slid shut, leaving the young security guard to just stare at it for another few moments before shaking her head and turning back to her desk.

Any thoughts she might have had about checking this out any further quickly fled when a drunk man with a busted cheek went loco in the waiting room.

* * *

“Easy peasy,” Francis said, giving Frank a big smile and wink. “Next stop, Joey’s room!”

The child beamed up at him – his hero worship for his grandfather cemented for life.

Things did not go as smoothly as planned, though…

When the elevator doors opened and the pair got out, Francis made a bee-line for Joe’s room, pulling Frank along with him. His hand was just reaching for the door handle when a familiar voice called out to them.

“Mr. Hardy? Frankie?”  Grimacing, the man slowly turned around to see Dr. Beckman hurrying towards them. “What are you doing here?” she asked the little boy.

“I’m under arrest,” the boy said good-naturedly and then, remembering that he was supposed to be a crime lord, he growled at her and added, “so you better stand back ‘cause I might bite!”

Amused, the doctor opened her mouth to say something when the child sneezed, promptly slipped one of hands out of the handcuffs, wiped his nose, and then put it back in the restraint. “And my name ain’t Frankie. It’s Sam—” he winked at his grandfather, “Sam Winchester!” He figured if that name was good enough for his grandfather, it was good enough for him!

Francis groaned and shook his head. The jig was up…but to his surprise the doctor laughed. “Well then,” she said, “I’d better not stand in your way, Sam—”  She looked at the man and winked before walking away.

Not bothering to question this unforeseen turn of events, Francis grabbed Frank’s arm again and pushed open the door to Joe’s room. “Come on squirt,” he whispered, “let’s go see your brother!”

Frank never needed to be told twice!

* * *

Joe lay as still as his hurting body and frightened mind would allow. Around him he could pick out the voices of Fenton and Laura – or who he hoped were his parents, but he just wasn’t too sure; maybe they were strangers who sounded like them because he wanted them to.

“C’mon sweetie,” one of the voices pleaded. “Come back to us.” He was almost positive one was his mother—

“Please son, you need to wake up now,” and that one, his father.

Maybe everything was okay. Maybe he could open his eyes and he’d be all right…then a warm hand took his own and Joe was jolted by the familiarity of that touch. That presence…

Finally opening his eyes, Joe looked right into his brother’s face and – and it was Frank!

“F-Frankie,” he managed to croak as his vision blurred with tears; a combination of pain and relief. This was his life – it wasn’t a dream! And these people were his family; his real family…for now and for always.

And as his family crowded around him in an excited huddle, Joe clung to his brother’s hand – there were no more maybes….He was going to be okay.

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.