Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Frank balanced the two cans of soda precariously in one hand while he unlocked the motel room door with the other. Walking into the room he saw Joe sitting on one of the beds, leaning up against the headboard, absently fingering the keys on his key ring. Closing the door behind him, Frank walked to the bed and handed Joe one of the cans before settling in on the end of the bed facing Joe. He popped the top and took a long drink. And then he waited…he didn’t push, didn’t press, didn’t say a word…he simply waited patiently until Joe was ready…

“I guess you wanna know why, huh?” Joe finally said.

Frank wasn’t at all surprised by his bluntness and needed no explanation as to the meaning of Joe’s statement. It was just the way Joe was, keeping everything bottled up inside until it was way past the point of combustion. And when he couldn’t keep it inside any longer, it came pouring out. Never in any kind of order that made sense, at least not to most people. It was usually a mass of confusion, but Frank had become an expert at taking that confusion and making perfect sense out of it. He’d learned the key long ago – remain silent. Let Joe do all the talking, at least until he gave up enough pieces for Frank to put the puzzle together.

Joe took a deep breath and Frank shifted slightly, focusing all his attention on his younger brother.

“When Iola died and we found out about Gray and the Network and the Assassins….When we were finally in on the hunt, I felt like I was doing something, ya know? Something constructive, something that would make a difference. I was so mad and angry and…pissed off, and I needed someone or something to take it out on.” Joe stopped, staring at the bedspread as if he could see his past playing out clearly against the worn fabric. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly but it was a bitter, bitter smile. “I don’t know why but I thought if I could just catch the guy who did it, you know – make him pay…get revenge…that everything would be okay…”

Joe took a deep breath in and let it out in a shaky exhale. “But it didn’t….We nailed Al-Rousassa…he paid with his life, but when it was all over…” Joe looked up, his eyes haunted with a pain Frank knew he’d never get over. “Iola was still dead. And there were hundreds more – thousands – just like Al-Rousassa, who couldn’t wait to take his place. And suddenly it was like, what’s the point? It didn’t matter how many terrorists we caught or how we made them pay – there would always be more…and Iola would always be dead…”

Joe stared at Frank and shrugged helplessly. “I guess that’s when I started going off the deep end. And the worse I got, the nicer everyone was to me. Like they knew I was so close to the edge and they didn’t want to be the one to do or say something to push me over.” Joe tried to laugh but it sounded more like a choked sob, and Frank scooted a little closer to him. “And that’s actually what did it. Everyone was so worried about me. Iola was gone – killed in my place – and no one blamed me…no one! I just wanted one person – someone, anyone – to be honest and tell me it was my fault! I mean bottom line, if she’d been dating some geek from the Science club instead of me, she’d probably still be alive today.” Joe scrubbed a hand across his eyes roughly and Frank had to bite his tongue to keep from interrupting; to keep from telling Joe exactly what had pushed him too far all those years ago – ‘It wasn’t your fault!’

So he sat and listened and didn’t say a word…but his heart bled.

Joe looked up, his eyes wet and his voice shaking. “I just couldn’t take it anymore. The sympathy, the pity, the kind words….I wanted someone to blame me, to hate me for what happened to her! But no one would, not you or Mom and Dad; not Callie or her other friends…not even Chet or his parents. I guess I just decided if no one else would hate me – I’d hate myself enough for all of you.”

Frank listened, feeling sick to his stomach. Growing up, Joe had been the happiest kid on the planet. Virtually everyone who knew him, and sometimes total strangers, commented on his happy-go-lucky attitude, his sunny disposition, his eternally positive outlook. As far as Joe was concerned life was, first and foremost, for having fun. And in one horrible afternoon, one man not only took that all away from him, but pushed Joe so far to the other end of the spectrum that just being alive was too much to bear.

“You wanna know something funny?” Joe’s voice broke into Frank’s thoughts, sounding far away, as if he were recalling some dark, long-ago memory.

“What?” Frank said, his voice tight.

“That night…the fight I had with Dad…” Joe shook his head slowly. “To this day I couldn’t tell you what we were fighting about. Not that it mattered anyway. By that time I felt like everything I did was a disappointment to him, like I let him down just by breathing. I don’t know what happened that night but I just…I snapped. I lost it. Iola was dead and no matter where I looked or who I saw – everyone and everything reminded me of her. I couldn’t forget, I couldn’t get away from it, I couldn’t escape….” He stopped and stared at Frank. “Except with Jodi…maybe that’s why I went to see her that night. I didn’t intend to. When I stormed out of the house my plan was to get on my bike and drive up to Shore Road…up to the cliffs…but somehow I ended up at her place. Her dad and step-mom were out; we were all alone, she saw how upset I was, and I don’t know…one thing led to another and before I knew it…” Joe shrugged helplessly as Frank shivered. Joe’s monologue brought home just how very close he’d come to losing his brother that night.

He felt the bed shift as Joe stood up and walked to the window, looking out. “That was probably the single biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my life, but it also helped save my life.” Joe stopped for a moment, then turned and looked at Frank hesitantly before speaking again. “You know…there were really two people who saved my life that night.”

“Two?” Frank echoed as he stood up, his brow knitted in confusion. “Jodi and…”

Joe smiled; a smile that spoke volumes. “…and you,” he said softly.

“Me?” Frank blurted out, shocked. He’d known Joe was upset that night, distraught, but how could he possibly have helped save Joe’s life when he hadn’t foreseen how desperate Joe was, to the point of seriously considering taking his own life? “I…I don’t understand.”

Joe sighed and looked as if he were trying to collect his thoughts, to try and make some kind of sense out of them. “I loved Iola,” he said quietly. “And when she died…God, it hurt so bad…” Joe shook his head like he could shake off the pain that came with the memories. “And even though I was doing my best to push you away back then, I figured you probably loved me at least as much as I loved her.”

Frank couldn’t help but chuckle and said a little hoarsely, “Yeah, you figured right.”

Joe smiled briefly and then was deadly serious again. “I couldn’t do that to you.” His eyes clouded over with pain and regret. “Her death…I was hurting so bad I just wanted to die. I couldn’t make you live with that kind of pain. I couldn’t hurt you like that. The only thing I hated more than myself was the thought of hurting you like that…. So bad that you’d rather be dead…” Joe shrugged. “I just…I couldn’t do that to you.”

Frank’s knees buckled and he sank back onto the bed as the truth hit him hard – how very close Joe had come to ending it all that night…and how only the ties that bound had saved his life.

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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.