Hardy Boys Fan Fiction at the HDA - Brain Child

As Frank listened to Mr. Shaw describing what had happened to Callie, he felt himself struggling to maintain his composure. She'd been through hell—and for what? Why? Because I didn't solve the case faster. Because it wasn't CALLIE who had been targeted prior to this. He fought back the self-loathing.

More than even those thoughts, though, he couldn't get his mind off what Callie had gone through. For as long as he and Callie had been together, it had always been second nature for him to protect her, physically, emotionally… in any way he could. She had always had such a beautiful and vibrant spirit characterized by undaunted optimism that things would work out for the best. It was, he was well aware, the very same thing that Joe thought about HIM. But he wasn't the innocent spirit his brother always believed him to be; he'd just tried really hard throughout their lives to present that image to his brother; and in a very real sense, it had worked.

But Joe was a thought for later. Right now, he knew that he was still trembling, and he was beginning to feel a sense of rage that he had never known before. Someone had touched Callie; HURT her. THAT was unforgivable. He wished he could say that he was filled with a blind rage, an uncontrolled fury to get revenge upon Daley. But he wasn't—it was far worse than that, and it honestly scared him. He WOULD get revenge on Daley… and he was perfectly rational and totally in control of that thought. He owned it. No, he thought bitterly. It owns me. And that day of reckoning would come soon enough.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his brother run from Callie's room, and immediately his heart stopped beating in his chest. In the background, he thought he saw Vanessa begin to go after Joe, thought he heard his dad or Mr. Shaw calling for him. But he didn't care—he needed to get to her now, to make sure she was all right.

As soon as he entered the room, he froze as he caught sight of Callie. He literally felt the wind knocked out of him. He'd thought she was gone; had just begun to see that she might have been senselessly taken from him. But here she was. Reality was unbearably fickle, and he couldn't quite register the shock.

Silently, wordlessly, he made his way to her bedside. He stared down at her, physically aching to hold her. He would NOT let her be hurt again, ever… he didn't even know if he could ever let her go. He couldn't touch her--- not yet. Mentally, he willed the tears to come. They wouldn't; it was still too raw. If he started to cry, how could he stop? Still, he longed for some relief from his pain.

He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. What could he say? What words could express what only his heart really knew? "I love you," sounded weak and childish. "I would die without you," sounded overdramatic and sentimental. "You're my world… my heart… my soul mate…" They all sounded like bad Hallmark cards.

But, God help him, they were all true.

Then, as he gazed down at her, he saw her struggle to open her eyes. Already, he could sense her pain, could see that she was struggling to know what was going on around her. But then, the strangest thing happened. She opened her eyes, focused on Frank, and a sense of peace came over her face, softening her features. She gave the smallest of smiles when she saw him.

Sitting on the bed beside her, he could no longer hold back. Wrapping his arms around her, cognizant that he could not hurt her, he held her to him. Feeling her in his arms, a sense of tremendous calm came over him, a relief greater than anything he had ever known. He had been so far way from her, and now—he was home.

And it was not until he felt Callie reach up and gently stroke his cheek that he realized that he had been crying all along…

*****

John Daley sat in his car outside the hospital, clenching his fists in tension. He still had access to the police radios; he'd made sure of that when he had staged his latest getaway, what was supposed to be his FINAL getaway. But things hadn't gone according to plan-- no, not exactly. He'd been distracted by the Shaw girl, and it had caused him to hit the remote start only an instant too soon. He'd been far enough away to avoid the full extent of the blast, and she had only been hurt, not killed.

Instead, he'd had to grab her, too, to make the perfect getaway to his car hidden in the distance. He smiled briefly as he remembered the "interrogation." Watching Collig squirm, watching Hardy and his sons try to bluff their way through the "evidence"—it had been comical. They had nothing on him, but they KNEW—it was the perfect crime.

Had it not been for the fact that Callie Shaw was alive, there would be no question of whether he was alive, either.

But she had ruined it. And she would pay.

Even now it boggled his mind how she had been found. He'd been a COP. He knew where to dump her, knew that no one would have come down that road. The thought of her suffering, waking up in pain, abandoned and lost, had been exciting. There was no way she would have lasted more than a day. He'd even toyed with the idea of returning the next day, REALLY teaching her a lesson, having his way with her. She would have been screaming even louder, the pain from her injuries, in the past and as they happened, mixing in with his pleasure. The thought even now held a lure for him. The bitch.

But now, it was ruined. He could get away; he knew that. All the arrangements had been made ahead of time. But if there was one thing he hated it was unfinished business. He knew it was a risk, but he had to finish what he had started. It was more than a risk, really—but he had a compulsion, a lust for revenge that could only be satisfied when the task at hand was completed. It was a factor that had been a part of him since as far back as he could remember; since Jimmy had gotten sick. He shook off the thought, but it plagued him still.

As kids, he and his brother had only had each other. When Jimmy had been diagnosed with leukemia everything had changed. Although he'd given bone marrow several times to his brother, and the prognosis had improved for Jimmy's longterm survival, he had lost all sense of innocence at that time and his childhood had been shattered forever. Always, always it was the women who had ruined everything for them. His mother had abandoned them; he'd been raised by a drug addict aunt who'd let her various boyfriends pummel everyone and everything, including him and Jimmy. One boyfriend in particular had beaten his aunt so severely she'd almost died; but his lawyer, a hot chick who probably couldn't waste her time on these "low level" crimes, had gotten him off. His own first girlfriend at the age of 13 had played him. It wasn't until years later that he found out she'd been eighteen, and had simply used him for experimentation.

And at that time, he learned that the only thing that he could do to make himself feel better was to get revenge upon these holier than thou women who thought they were God's gift and heaven, itself. Well, he could do better than that; he could provide hell.

He'd spent his teen years wild and reckless and doing whatever he wanted to whomever he wanted. And Jimmy always covered for him, even going to the detention center in his place. John knew he'd always been smart; he could see things most people couldn't, and it hadn't been long before he'd made the connection to the very unusual bond that he'd shared with his brother.

But a long time ago he'd separated from his brother. To make a connection, to feel a bond so strong with someone you knew would die, the only person who really looked out for you, would be unbearable. So he'd kept a relationship with Jimmy, but had never let himself FEEL again.

Still, Jimmy covered for him, having a literal sense that he owed his brother his life. Jimmy had always been a good kid; John knew he was appalled by what he suspected John of doing, but never had the heart to verify his suspicions. And when he'd gone after Leslie Smith... well, he'd done that for Jimmy who, once he had found out, simply turned away, defeat in his eyes. To this day, John didn't really understand it. After all, he'd taught her a lesson, made her pay the ultimate price for what she did to his brother.

And so, he cared for his brother, but never understood how he thought; why Jimmy wasn't bitter and outraged; why he never wanted to get back what had been taken from him. Jimmy was naïve; and now, as his death approached, John could only hope that he found the peace he deserved. As for himself, he didn't believe much in a God and he pretty much knew that hell existed on earth. But he could mix the two; give others hell and feel a divine sense of power and fulfillment from his desires.

And that thought brought him back to the present. Death was too good for Callie Shaw; he would make her live in unbearable horror for as long as he needed to. Then he had some unfinished business with Vanessa Bender, the tall, leggy blonde. THAT would be fun. And finally, there'd been that hot -to -trot redhead who thought she could pretend that her brains were more important than her looks. He had a plane to catch in four days time; and three days and three girls to lead him into his glorious escape.

He was just about to leave his care when he saw her; Vanessa Bender. Daley paused. Callie Shaw had been first on his agenda, but there was the other one—alone. He saw a golden opportunity. At once, he felt himself begin to change as he became the hunter after his prey. And he was hungry…

*****

Vanessa stopped by the entrance to the side door of the hospital. It had been only a short time since she'd arrived there and it was turning out to be a much different trip than she had anticipated. When Nancy had first approached her with her theory that Callie might be alive, she allowed herself to hope. As they gave Joe the news, she began to BELIEVE. Callie couldn't be taken away from her—from all of them. Life simply couldn't be that cruel.

Now, when she'd heard the news that Callie was okay and in the hospital, Vanessa couldn't wait to see her. She knew that she'd be second only to the Shaws and Frank to see her best friend, but even that hadn't turned out the way she thought that it would. It was Joe who was sitting by Callie's bedside, apparently at her request… and Frank who was sitting in the waiting room, the shock still imprinted on his face.

Then, just when she thought that Joe would be coming out, he did--- running away like he'd just been given a terrible shock. She was stunned; they all were. It seemed like instantaneously Frank stood up and ran into Callie's room; Mr. Hardy and the Shaws exchanged confused looks; she was left speechless. But just as she knew almost at once that Callie really was okay, she knew that she needed to get to Joe as quickly as possible just to… be there for him.

It wasn't hard to follow Joe—he'd headed straight out of the hospital and sat down on a bench. Vanessa stood in the background by the door. Something about her boyfriend's posture was so serene and struck her as so poignant she couldn't progress. Was he talking to someone? Looking for someone? Praying? She couldn't tell. All she knew was that he seemed to need some time by himself.

Vanessa was, in fact, so wrapped up in her thoughts about Joe that she almost didn't notice the person who had surreptitiously crept beside her. Almost…

When she whirled around to face her unknown adversary, all she saw was a gun. His face was masked by a low slung baseball cap.

"Scream and I'll kill you. Right here. Now."

She KNEW. At once, Vanessa felt her blood turn to ice, felt her knees begin to collapse. That voice--- that voice.

She wanted to scream, because she knew that if she went with him, she'd die anyway. Here, at least she had a chance. But she couldn't. Her voice caught in her throat and she felt herself begin to shake uncontrollably as he pressed the revolver deeper into her side.

Still, she went to open her mouth when she heard him, felt him press against her forcefully enough to scare her and subtly enough so that any passers by wouldn't notice anything at all. Then she heard his words.

"I've got a gun on you now, and your boyfriend under surveillance out there. You scream, he dies, too." His breath was hot upon her cheek and his grasp firm and painful on her arm.

He's bluffing. He HAS to be. But what if he isn't? Would Joe die? Oh, God.

She couldn't risk it.

As they made their way calmly further and further from the hospital entrance, Vanessa had the strangest feeling that she was watching her own death. She transcended her body knowing what was to come.

It came far sooner than she had expected. The forceful push to the ground snapped her back to reality. She was thrown to the floor, felt his hands gripping hers forcefully above her head. He was on top of her and she couldn't breathe.

"Look at me," he hissed.

Shaking violently, Vanessa had no choice. She was struck in this moment of intense violence by two facts: he had brown eyes now, and his eyes were far away, not in this moment, really, either. They were totally devoid of feeling, the very definition of apathy. It was the most frightening thing she'd ever seen.

Keeping one arm pinned above her head and using the other to turn her face to his, he made her watch him… smile.

"It's the last thing that you'll ever see."

And it would have been…

Had not the door slammed open,

And Frank Hardy stepped inside.

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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.