Frank stood next to his brother who was leaning against one of the cement pillars that ran around the perimeter of the mall’s main court. His dark eyes roamed over the large crowd of people milling about restlessly.

“Walker’s got a lot of support here,” he remarked as he was bumped into yet again by someone trying to get through the crowd.

“Yeah,” Joe agreed. “If he’s this popular in the rest of the country, he shouldn’t have any trouble getting elected.”

“Hey, here comes Iola,” Frank pointed at Joe’s girlfriend who was going against the flow, trying to push her way through the mass of people towards the brothers.

“Isn’t this amazing?!” she said excitedly, standing on tip toe to give Joe a peck on the cheek. She and Frank’s girlfriend, Callie Shaw, had volunteered to work on Philip Walker’s Bayport campaign and had been feverishly handing out brochures and trying to drum up support for the Presidential candidate. “We’re almost out of brochures,” she said, wrapping an arm around Joe’s waist. “Can you help me get another box out of the car?”

“You bet,” Joe agreed, dropping an arm across her shoulders. “Back in a few minutes,” he said to Frank as he and Iola made their way towards the parking lot exit.

Frank smiled as he watched them walk away, thinking they seemed more interested in stealing a few kisses than in hurrying to the car. ‘Don’t think they’ll be in any hurry to get back,’ he mused.

“Hey, did Joe and Iola go out to the car already?”

Frank turned and saw Callie rushing towards him. “Yeah, why?”

“We’re going to need more than one box of brochures,” she said breathlessly. “Could you…”

“Say no more,” Frank grinned holding up a hand. “I’m on my way.”

Pushing against the tide of Philip Walker supporters who were flowing towards the main court slowed Frank’s progress considerably, but eventually he made it to the doors leading out to the parking lot. Once outside he broke into a jog, hoping to catch up with Joe and Iola before they were on their way back. Hurrying along he finally saw his brother’s blonde hair above the roofs of the cars in the lot.

“Joe!” he called out, waving a hand overhead.

Joe turned towards him, at the same time reaching for the handle of the car door. He raised his arm and acknowledged Frank’s call when suddenly there was a massive explosion. Frank was lifted off his feet by the force of the blast and thrown backwards several yards, landing hard on his back. The wind knocked out of him, Frank lay dazed for a moment, trying to figure out what had just happened, when he became aware of the sound of popping and crackling. He felt waves of heat radiating from the direction of their car. Gingerly he lifted his head and saw flames leaping into the sky in the exact spot where Joe had stood only seconds before!

“No,” he said, shakily pushing himself up to a sitting position. “No… Oh, no, no, no, no, no!” Gaining his legs he stumbled forward unable to take his eyes off the dancing flames and clouds of black smoke billowing overhead. “No!” he cried out. “JOE!!!!”

Frank’s eyes flew open and he inhaled so sharply he almost choked. His heart was hammering in his chest and a sheen of cold sweat covered his body. Curling his fingers around the bedspread tightly, Frank closed his eyes and took a deep shaky breath, exhaling slowly.

‘Just a dream…it was just a dream…Joe’s fine…’

He deliberately inhaled and exhaled again, breathing deeply until he felt his heart start to slow down.

“You okay?”

The voice startled him and he flinched. Turning his head slightly, he saw Joe’s shadowy image propped up on one elbow, and was thankful it was too dark for Joe to make out the terror that he was sure still lingered on his face.

“Yeah, fine,” Frank lied, pushing back the covers. He levered himself up and sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, then silently got up and padded to the bathroom. Shutting the door he leaned against it and closed his eyes, reminding himself it was just a bad dream. Reaching out, he flipped on the light and glanced at his reflection in the mirror. “Damn,” he muttered.

It had been years since he’d seen that haunting sadness looking back at him. He’d lost count of how many times he’d awakened in a cold sweat before the nightmare eventually began to decrease in frequency and then finally disappeared altogether. At the time Frank had hoped it was gone for good and with it, the horror he’d always felt upon awakening. For a minute or two, he’d be too disoriented to remember if Joe were dead or alive; if he’d been killed along with Iola or if he was sleeping soundly on the other side of their shared bathroom. Many nights, Frank had to get up and go see for himself that Joe was there, alive and well, before he could really believe it.

Frank used the bathroom, washed his hands and splashed some cold water on his face, reminding himself Joe was fine, it was just an old dream coming back to haunt him and would fade just as quickly as it had arrived. But now, as then, it didn’t matter that logically he knew Joe was safe; it did nothing to alleviate the crippling feeling of loss that had settled over him. Sometimes the dream was just too real…

*****

Joe lay in bed, staring at the shadows playing across the ceiling when Frank emerged from the bathroom. He watched as his brother’s shadowy image walked to the other small bed and crawled between the sheets.

“Sorry I woke you,” Frank mumbled an apology before turning on his side and pulling the covers up over his shoulders, his back to Joe.

Joe was about to say Frank hadn’t awakened him, that he hadn’t yet fallen asleep, but thought better of it. Frank hadn’t fooled him for a second. If there was one thing Joe was intimately familiar with, it was the immediate aftermath of a terrifying nightmare. With Frank’s startling confession about the explosion still fresh in his mind, Joe was sure he knew what had awakened Frank so abruptly. Obviously Frank was being haunted by the memory he thought was long dead and buried, and Joe didn’t want to add to his troubles. If Frank knew Joe couldn’t sleep, he’d be concerned, no matter how many harsh words had been spoken between them earlier in the evening.

Returning his attention to the ceiling, he watched the shadows move and change. The wind had picked up outside and the small crack in the curtains covering the windows allowed a sliver of moonlight in. The branches of the small trees outside the room threw what looked like huge, shadowy misshapen fingers across the ceiling.

Rolling onto his side, Joe stared at the wall, feelings of inadequacy curling around him and gnawing at his soul. Maybe he had an excuse for the bad decisions he’d made seven years ago – common sense and the voice of reason having been drowned out by a tidal wave of guilt and grief. But what about now? How could he possibly justify the decisions he’d made in the last few days? Keeping the fact that he might have a son from his family – the very people who’d pulled him through the darkest year of his life – to appease someone he hadn’t seen since high school?

‘God, what was I thinking?!’

Hearing Frank shift in the other bed, Joe realized that while his brother was only a few feet away he felt more alone than ever – and he put the blame for that squarely on himself.

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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.