Hardy Boys Fan Fiction at the HDA - Brain Child

As their speeding car finally reached the hospital and they pulled into a parking spot, Fenton glanced sidelong at his eldest son. Still, he didn't know what to make of him. Frank hadn't said a word to anyone on the trip. He had just sat quietly, clenching and unclenching his fists. He was still trembling.

When the car pulled to a stop, Fenton immediately put a hand on Frank's shoulder.

"You two go ahead," he said, motioning for Vanessa and Joe to go into the hospital.

Joe stared at his father, dumbfounded. If it was Vanessa in the hospital, and he'd just been told she was okay after thinking she was dead, neither hell nor high water could keep him from running to her side immediately. But then he glanced at Frank, who was still sitting frozen in the front seat, and he realized that maybe his dad was right; maybe it was better if Fenton could get through to Frank before he went to see Callie.

Finally nodding his head slowly in understanding, he took Vanessa's hand, and they made their way into the building.

When Joe and Vanessa were out of sight, Fenton turned to Frank, who had just started to open the door, as if he just realized where they were and what was happening.

"Dad, I need to go," Frank pleaded, eyes wide.

"No," Fenton said. "I need to talk to you first."

Frank froze. He still hadn't fully grasped everything that had occurred, but he knew one thing, and it pressed on him almost more than he could bear. Get to Callie. I have to get to Callie.

As if he could read his mind, Fenton spoke. "In a minute, son. She'll be there. She's okay."

"I…" Frank managed, but Fenton reached over and rubbed Frank's arm, silencing him.

"Did you hear me, Frank? She's OKAY."

Frank could only stare. The weight of his father's words slowly descended on him and he let out a slow, shaky breath. He felt his bottom lip begin to quiver, and immediately turned away and looked out the front windshield of the car. He couldn't stop shaking; finally, he raised a hand to his forehead, rubbing it.

Fenton's heart went out to his son. For once, he was at a loss for words. He wanted to reach out to him and tell him that everything would be okay. He wanted to take away the shock Frank was in and replace it once again with a sense of security that, even now, he feared was gone.

At last, all he could manage to get out was, "Frank, I just wish… that you didn't keep everything locked up inside of you. It's not… good. I'm just so worried…"

Finally, Frank turned to him. Fenton was shocked into silence. It seemed that, for the first real time he could remember, he was looking at a person who was much older than he knew. His little boy wasn't there anymore; instead, he was looking into a face that was a younger version of his own. He was looking at a man, not a boy. At the same time, he knew at once that it was Frank's eyes that were different. They seemed wiser, more worldly somehow.

But they were also here, in the present. In whatever form he had him, Frank was back.

Deliberately, seeming to think hard about what he was saying, Frank reached over and patted his father's hand. "Dad," he said softly, "I'm okay. Really, I am. I need to go see Callie, but I think I need to tell you something, too."

"Go on," Fenton encouraged, shocked at the change in his son.

Frank managed the smallest of smiles. "Dad, you have to stop worrying about me so much, okay? I… I handle things differently than you, and certainly differently than Joe. But I DO handle them." He paused, searching for the right words. "I can't help who I am, any more than Joe can. He will always be impulsive and fun; I'll always be more reserved. It's just the way I am."

Fenton listened attentively. He couldn't remember the last time he had talked—really TALKED—with Frank. Seizing the opportunity, he nodded but expressed his concern. "Oh, Frank," he sighed. "You just hold everything inside and I…"

"No, I don't," Frank cut him off. "Listen, Dad," Frank went on softly but firmly. "I don't think you give me enough credit sometimes. Am I quiet at times? Yes. Do I think before I speak? Yes. But I KNOW that I have great parents and terrific friends. I talk to you all. And even more, I have Joe. And Callie." He fought back the lump in his throat. "I guess that everyone just knows a different side of me. And that's not so unusual, really."

Fenton, captivated, could only interject, "But your reaction all this time… you didn't grieve…."

"No," Frank shook his head slowly and raised a hand to his chest, covering his heart. "Dad, I… I just can't… cry right now…it goes beyond tears." Despite his words, he felt his eyes brim with tears that he promptly fought back. Still, he'd gone this far; he might as well finish. "I don't know what I would do without Callie. She's my…" He searched for words, and, finding none, simply concluded, "heart. She's my life, Dad."

Fenton felt his own eyes well with tears. Frank, usually so reserved and private, had expressed himself with such candor and raw emotion it was almost hard to hear.

"And so," Frank added, "I can't think of my life without her—literally. And thank God I don't have to." He gave the smallest of smiles again. "So I'm me, dad. And you won't see me break apart. Working things out on my own is just as much a part of me as watching out for Joe or Callie; it's literally second nature. But I'll try to express myself a little better from now on, okay?"

Fenton could only nod. Frank had changed; he saw it and wondered where it would lead.

Putting a still slightly trembling hand on the door handle, Frank opened the door. "Now I need to go see my fiancée." As he was about to go, it seemed to Fenton that something literally stopped Frank and he turned around. Unexpectedly, and totally out of character, Frank reached over and hugged his father. "I love you dad. Thanks." He turned around and sprinted towards the hospital entrance.

Stunned, Fenton could only watch his eldest son leave him. He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just watched Frank grow up in front of his eyes and he wondered if, maybe, he'd ever really known him at all.

*****

As Vanessa ran ahead to find out which room Callie was located in, Joe stayed behind momentarily as he caught sight of Chief Collig, who was in the lobby sipping a cup of coffee. When he saw Joe, he motioned for him to come over.

"We got good news today," he said simply to Joe. As he spoke, Joe noted at once that he looked relieved, like a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Then it made sense to him. Collig had let Daley go; the amount of guilt he must have felt for that decision must have been enormous.

Instinctively, Joe reached over and extended his hand. "Thanks for everything, Chief," he said sincerely. As Collig reached out to shake his hand, Joe couldn't help but to smile. He'd known Chief Collig since he'd been a kid through his father's friendship with him. Sometimes it was easy to forget that this man, who was gruff and no nonsense was simply that—a man. Joe had a feeling that there was a lot more to Collig than met the eye, and somehow his dad was privy to some of that. He was, at heart, a good person; just someone who'd become slightly embittered at the world after everything he'd seen.

Like me, Joe realized with a start. Maybe that's why he gives me such a hard time.

Collig interrupted his thoughts. "Where's Frank, son? Where's your dad?"

"Outside. Dad, uh, needed to talk to Frank for a few minutes," he answered.

Collig nodded. "How's he doing? Your brother, I mean," he went on.

"Better now," Joe responded. "Thank God." He paused for a moment and then continued. "Chief, is that why you're here? Did you get the call? What happened?"

"You know, Joe, it's incredible," Collig answered, shaking his head in disbelief. "It's truly a miracle that Callie is okay. She was found several miles outside of Bayport. The road she was found on was a stretch of highway that had actually been closed for repairs. It would be very difficult for any traffic to get through. She was found at the bottom of a steep embankment----" Collig stopped as he saw Joe wince.

"I'm sorry," Collig went on. "I'll stop."

"No," Joe responded, shaking off the images that Collig was conjuring. "It's okay. I'm just grateful that she survived." He paused a moment before continuing. "So how did you find her?"

"Anonymous phone call. It came into the station. The caller—a woman—simply said that there'd been an accident and that Callie Shaw had been found, alive but hurt. She told us exactly where to look. In fact, she said she would mark the spot with a mauve sweatshirt by the side of the road on a marker next to the embankment." Collig shrugged. "Amazing, but miraculous."

Joe shook his head in disbelief. "Did she leave any information? A name? Contact number?" Even now, he was preparing to eventually get in touch with the woman to thank her.

"Nothing," Collig answered. "In fact, when we arrived, there was no car. It was almost like she vanished. And of course, she was only on the phone with the station a minute or two, certainly not long enough to trace the call."

Joe sighed. "At least Callie's okay—that's the most important thing, right?" he responded.

"That it is," Collig answered with a small smile. "And I think your girlfriend is waiting over there by the elevator to go see her—now." He pointed in Vanessa's direction. "Go ahead. I'll wait for your dad."

Joe turned to go, but was stopped by the sound of Collig's voice calling him back.

"One more thing," Collig went on, meeting Joe's eyes directly. "If Callie is okay, that means she had to somehow get away from the explosion. That also means someone took her and attempted to kill her. I'm telling you, son, had it not been for that phone call, Callie Shaw would be dead—period. Daley's alive, Joe. So keep a real close eye on that girlfriend of yours. In fact, I think I may just put someone on the force—one of my old timers—" he added quickly, "to shadow her. But the more eyes out, the better, right?" His tone indicated it was statement, not a question.

Fighting back the image that Collig had just created, Joe nodded slowly. Then, hurriedly, he ran to Vanessa, determined not to let her out of his sight.

*****

Once upstairs, Joe and Vanessa immediately caught sight of Callie's parents. Vanessa ran up to Mrs. Shaw and embraced her tightly. Together, they headed for a corner of the room where they could speak quietly. Joe approached Mr. Shaw, who looked troubled and clearly surprised to see the wrong Hardy brother there.

In answer to the unasked question, Joe quickly shook hands with Mr. Shaw and said, "Frank's downstairs. He's on his way. How's Callie?"

Mr. Shaw let out a shaky breath. He had no idea how he was about to articulate what he had to say. The grief of losing his only child had been unbearable; the shock of her return had been unbelievable. He was caught between planning a funeral and planning a celebration. It was surreal. At the same time, he couldn't believe what he had to say.

"She'll… she'll be all right," he came out with, voice strained. "She has lots of cuts and bruises, two broken ribs… but a very serious concussion. She's just now beginning to come to."

"Is she in much pain?" Joe asked, concerned.

"She's under heavy sedation. The doctors said that what she says for the next few days might not make much sense. They're actually surprised that she's actually regaining consciousness this quickly." He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"I'm so sorry," Joe replied. "But it's good that she's awake now, right? Frank is…" Joe shook off the chill that came over him.

"No, Joe," Mr. Shaw cut him off. He met Joe's eyes, the confusion apparent. "That would make sense, I know. She saw us, but could barely speak. And then I swore that I saw her silently mouth Frank's name. But when I finally could get close enough to understand what she wanted… well, Joe…" He raised his hands in confusion, "She said that she needed to see you."

"Me?" Joe asked, stunned. "Are you sure?"

"Go to her, Joe. Please. Try to figure out what happened to her. I'll stay with Frank as soon as he arrives and hold him off while I can."

At a loss for words, Joe simply nodded and made his way towards Callie's room.

When he went inside, Joe sucked in a deep breath. Callie was on a hospital bed, face as ashen as the sheets that surrounded her. She had a large bandage on the side of her head, and already her bruises were beginning to show, an ugly rainbow of blacks and browns and blues. He hands were clasped on the sheet in front of her, and he was struck for a moment of how, with the pale colors and utter quietness of the room, it looked like she was in a coffin, just for a moment. It was one moment too long, as he felt a tear form at the corner of his eye that he quickly wiped away.

Making his way to her, he sat down in the chair next to her bed and took her hand, feeling somehow that Frank should be there.

Weakly, slowly, Callie struggled to open her eyes. They fluttered open and shut several times before she was finally able to open them completely. "Frank?" she whispered.

He knew it! Mr. Shaw had been wrong. Of course Callie wanted to see Frank; not him. He squeezed her hand. "Hey Cal," he said quietly to her. "It's Joe. Frank's coming. He'll be here any moment. Hang on, okay?"

"Joe?" Callie asked weakly, finally managing to focus her eyes.

Looking at her, Joe noted the faraway gaze in her eyes. Her speech was slightly slurred. "Yeah, it's me. I'm... I'm glad to see you." Somehow, he couldn't find the right words.

"No, Joe…" she responded softly, both looking at him and not looking at him at the same time. "Need to see YOU," she hesitantly began.

"Uh, okay," he said, giving her hand a quick squeeze. "Go ahead. Anything you need; just let me know."

"Saw her Joe. She saved me," Callie murmured.

"What?" Joe asked, leaning closer. "Saw who? Who saved you?"

Callie smiled a dreamy smile. "You know who."

At a complete loss, Joe shook his head. "No, Cal. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I talked to her. She's good. Says she loves you forever." Callie's speech was slurred.

"What are you saying, Callie? I don't understand." Joe was worried. He heard Mr. Shaw's words ring in the back of his head. What she's saying might not make any sense. Severe concussion. He tried to find the center of her words and to extract the nonsense, but she couldn't make heads or tails of what she meant.

"Iola," Callie replied, eyes heavy.

Joe froze. Then, coming to his senses, he gently squeezed her hand. "No, Callie. No. Iola's gone. Vanessa's here. She's waiting to see you and…"

"Iola!" Callie replied more adamantly. She felt tears slip onto her cheeks. Her stomach hurt. She didn't quite know exactly what had happened, and the words were so hard to form. She HAD to make him understand. God, she wanted Frank. She needed him. But she had to do this first. Even in her pain and confusion, she knew somehow that she had to deliver this message that even she didn't understand.

"It's okay, Cal," Joe responded, eyes reflecting deep concern and sympathy. He brushed away a tear from her eyes. Callie, like his brother, rarely cried. Something was wrong. "I'm listening," he said seriously to her. And he was.

Callie looked slightly more lucid, but he could tell that she was struggling for how to express herself. She took a deep breath and sputtered out what she could remember in fragments. "Said her name was Erin. Wanted to give me cola and… and apple. 'Member, Joe?" God, the words came so hard. "At the grave. When she died. We... gave her apple, and cola, right? She knew things. Said help on the way. Said that love is forever.” Callie's head started to pound. "She said it wasn't my time. She looked like an angel." Callie closed her eyes. "Frank, Joe. I…"

"I'll get him," Joe whispered, his voice barely a whisper.

As soon as he left the room, he ran down the hallway, past the Shaws, Vanessa, Fenton, and even Frank. He needed to get outside. When he did, he found the closest bench and sat down. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he felt the tears flow. But, he realized at once, they were tears of joy.

Because he knew what Callie had said was true, even if she never spoke the words again. The sweatshirt that Collig had described had been the exact same color as the one Iola had worn on the day she died. The caller knew Callie's name, and Callie had never given it, since Callie was just gaining consciousness now. Callie had been right; when they had met this year to remember Iola, he'd started his story talking about an apple, and had toasted her with a Coke. Above all, though, there was one thing he could not refute.

Very few people knew this, but Erin was Iola's middle name.

And she had forgiven him, and loved him still.

"Thank you, baby," he whispered into the wind and he could swear that he felt the slightest touch of a kiss on his skin as he looked into the bright summer sun….

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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.