Hardy Boys Fan Fiction at the HDA - Brain Child

It was strange. As Frank lay beside Callie, holding her to him, he had opened his eyes for only an instant. Prior to that, he had allowed himself to bask in the relief, the absolute uncorrupted love he had for this woman in his arms, closing his eyes—creating a world in which only he and Callie existed. But then, it had been too powerful to ignore… this feeling in his gut that he needed to LOOK at something.

Callie was asleep, nestled against him. He was so comfortable… but he HAD to look. As soon as he opened his eyes, he saw it. Out of the window of the hospital room, far in the distance, he saw Vanessa being led away. No one else would have noticed, but Vanessa's long, ash- blonde hair was unmistakable… as was the stiffness of her body and the proximity of the man close to her; a man, he saw right away, who was NOT Joe.

At once, he sat up, feeling Callie wince at the sudden movement. Gently, he slid away from her, already his body feeling the physical loss of having her near him. But Vanessa was in trouble, and he had to help.

Daley—it HAD to be. He felt his body stiffen. Eyes never leaving Vanessa and concentrating on the details of the area into which she was heading, he took out his cell phone. Damnit—no reception.

He had no choice. Running out of the room, he looked frantically around. Where was his dad? Collig? The Shaws? SOMEONE?! How long had he been with Callie?! There was no nurse; the station was empty. He had to go.

But he couldn't leave Callie. What if—what if this was a ploy? What if that someone whom he'd seen had been wearing a disguise, made to look like Vanessa? It was a great distance away. What if Daley was here, trying to get to Callie? He could never let that happen. Still, he couldn't let Vanessa be endangered.

At once, a calm descended upon him. Logic fought against the emotion seething inside. This was a HOSPITAL. Everyone had to be close by—somewhere. Collig would have police protection on Callie; Frank just KNEW it. And he could use his cell on the way. It was coming; Judgment Day was at hand.

Taking a deep breath to calm down, Frank mentally plotted his route. And then, he started to run, faster than he had in years, in the general direction where he'd seen Vanessa being taken.

It took less than fifteen minutes before he was outside and almost at the side building a distance from the hospital, which wasn't in the best section of town. He saw immediately where Daley had been headed, and tried to fight back knowledge of the terror that Vanessa must be feeling. He grabbed his cell phone and hit 911. His phone had a GPS locater inside it; he knew he'd eventually be found. But he had no time to talk. He had arrived.

Frank threw open the door and entered at once. The scene before him caused his heart momentarily to skip a beat. Vanessa was on the floor, being forcefully held down. John Daley was on top of her, struggling with his clothing. The sounds of Vanessa's muffled sobs and the thrashing of her body against the floor, as well as Daley's own grunts and curses, hung in the air.

It took Frank only an instant to recognize that Daley had not yet completed his intended task. Vanessa was still fully clothed and Daley was still struggling to get her to submit.

Upon Frank's entrance, Daley looked up, startled.

"Get the hell off her!" Frank screamed out, his voice taking on a tone even he didn't recognize. At once, he rushed into the room and, using all the strength he had, he grabbed Daley by the shirt and flung him off Vanessa.

"Get out of here!" he shouted to Vanessa as he struggled to keep Daley down.

Sobbing, Vanessa unsteadily managed to get to her knees, shaking uncontrollably. Trying to close her shirt around her, she knew that she had to tell him—warn him now.

"He… he's got a gun…" she managed between sobs, trying to stand unsuccessfully as she gasped for air.

"Get out!" Frank shouted again, gesticulating with one free hand as he struggled with Daley. "Go!"

Vanessa, using all of her strength, crawled on her knees out of the room, tears blurring her vision. Had Frank not heard her? Did he not care? "Oh, God," she whimpered out loud once she had made it out of the room.

She took a moment to look around. Where was she? The sky was spinning. She needed to help Frank—but she couldn't go back. Get yourself together, she scolded herself. She was scared; it had never been this hard to breathe before.

Then, she saw it. In the far distance, she recognized the entrance to the hospital. It was so, so far away. She'd never make it in time. The sounds from inside the room were chilling; shouting, scraping metal… at once, a shot rang out. Oh my God. Oh my God. She looked frantically around. "Frank," she whispered to the air; but no one saw; no one heard.

Then, struggling harder than she had in her entire life, Vanessa stood up, quickly adjusted her torn clothing, and, on wobbly legs, tears streaming down her face, she started to run….

*****

Inside, Frank struggled with Daley who had managed to take advantage of Frank's one moment to warn Vanessa to leave to grab him from behind. Daley was strong; the years of street-fighting and training as a cop had evidently paid off.

Whirling around, Frank managed to get the upper hand again. What was happening?! Although he'd tangled with hundreds of criminals over the years, this one was different. This one was personal. He had no control over what was happening. For once in his life, his years of martial arts training left him; all that was left was a savage, primal need to hurt this piece of scum; to tear him to pieces.

At once, the force of their struggle caused them to break apart momentarily. Their eyes met for an instant, both full of fire and desperation. This was it; one way or another—and they both knew it.

Daley reached behind him, and Frank recalled Vanessa's words immediately. "Gun…." he whispered.

Frank pushed forward anyway, knocking Daley back again. Somehow, Daley had managed to free his gun and had fired an errant shot into the air. The sound of it was deafening in the otherwise silent building. Both momentarily caught off guard by the sound, Frank recovered just an instant before Daley and managed to knock the gun to the floor.

The race began as to who could get it first. Crawling desperately, Frank just managed to get his hands on the revolver when another gunshot went off just by his hand. He's got another gun, Frank realized at once.

He whirled around from the floor and stood at once, gun pointed at Daley; and found himself looking right into the barrel of another gun.

They stood, staring at each other, breathing heavily, guns pointed at each other.

And then… Daley smiled.

Frank felt a hardness come into his heart that was so foreign, so unlike anything he had ever felt before, it actually chilled him. Ice ran through his veins. He HATED this man; he couldn't recall ever having hated anyone—anything—before this moment.

"This is it," Daley said, trying to regain his breath.

"This is it," Frank mirrored, totally devoid of any emotion except unadulterated hatred. He didn't know himself anymore. He couldn't think, could not outwit this guy. He didn't want to think, either. It took all the self-control he had not to pull the trigger.

"I was good, wasn't I?" Daley asked. "Had you fooled the whole time."

"You don't deserve any credit for anything," Frank replied icily.

Neither one moved.

"And when this is over, I'll still be a mystery—you'll never know how I did it, will you?" He taunted Frank with a smirk.

"I know your secret," Frank answered evenly.

For just a moment, the look on Daley's face, his calm facade, faltered.

Frank seized the moment. "You sold out your brother. He's going to die and you made him live his last months in jail. How do you do that? Jimmy spent his life protecting you, and you turn on him? I'd protect my brother at all costs."

He saw Daley's weakness. BUT—Daley saw his, too.

Eyes flashing, Daley retorted. "Maybe you would," he answered calmly. "But you couldn't protect your brother against that mind game I created with the explosion, huh? What a way to go—remind him of his dead girlfriend, and mess with your head, too. But you couldn't protect that little girlfriend of yours, could you?" He licked his lips and smiled. "Damn. It was fun to watch her calling out in pain. You should have heard her scream. It's too bad I didn't get to totally have her, though. I bet she's good in bed."

"Shut the hell up," Frank interjected, fury racing through his body.

"Mmmmm," Daley added. "She's a fine piece of---"

Frank raised the gun directly at Daley's head, causing him to stop. In the distance, they both heard sirens.

They glared at each other.

"You couldn't do it, Hardy; drop the gun. You weren't man enough to save those other bitches, including your own. Tell your brother that his girl will always remember me—so I've won. And how is your little Callie? To think, the last image that she'll have of you is how you wanted that hot little redhead, Drew. I made sure to tell her what was going on before our little disappearance together. Poor thing; it brought tears to her eyes."

The siren was getting closer.

"Go to hell," Frank replied coldly.

He pulled the trigger.

*****

Joe ran into the building, somehow knowing that the police were not far behind. Vanessa had come to him, sobbing, telling him what had transpired while he had been sitting on a bench having a pow-wow with his dead ex-girlfriend.

As ridiculous as it sounded, it had been true. He hadn't regretted it; now, after all of these years, he could finally find peace with Iola; with himself. What he did immeasurably regret was leaving Vanessa at all. Although the idea that Daley would return this soon had not even crossed his mind, it should have. But there was no time for chastisement now.

To see Vanessa falling apart, to hear what she'd been through, broke his heart. He wanted to hold her and protect her as much as he wanted to kill Daley. But when Vanessa had mentioned gunshots and shouting, he knew he had to get to his brother before Frank actually made that happen.

He'd taken Vanessa immediately to his dad inside; somehow, he knew she'd feel safe with him. He also knew that his dad would get the police to the building at once. Still, something told him that he needed to get there at once, and he prayed to God that it wasn't to find his brother hurt—or worse, in an impossible match against a deranged and armed criminal.

As he entered the room after finally arriving in the sprint of his lifetime, Joe stopped dead in his tracks, mouth falling open. Sucking in his breath, he assessed the entire situation in under three seconds.

One: his brother on his knees, staring at a still smoking gun in his hand.

Two: another smoking gun lying on the floor.

Three: the dead body of John Daley, covered in blood.

He heard the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching; a siren that had suddenly gone silent.

He realized at once what had happened.

No one would know the time frame—the events were too close together. He thought in an instant what his brother had gone through, what his future held. He thought of what Daley had done to Vanessa; how he'd hurt Callie. He recalled his spoken vow to Vanessa and Nancy that he would protect his brother, die for him if he needed to, rather than watch him live the rest of his life in hell. He knew what he needed to do.

Wordlessly, he knelt beside his brother and took the gun from his hand. Frank didn't even move.

Collig and at least five other officers burst through the door, guns drawn.

"What the hell?" Collig said softly as the officers next to him slowly lowered their revolvers.

Daley was dead. The Hardy brothers were on the floor, a gun in Joe's hand. The smell of gun-smoke filled the room.

Joe Hardy stood slowly and faced Chief Collig—his dad's friend and his own mentor of many years. He extended the gun, handle out, to the Chief. Gently, he placed it on the floor and put his hands up.

"I did it, Chief," he said slowly, looking like he was in a daze. "You can take me in."

Then Frank Hardy seemed to snap to life. Standing up, he walked next to his brother. There was blood on his clothing. "What?" he asked softly. "N… no," he stammered, meeting Collig's eyes. "He… he didn't---"

"I did," Joe replied, effectively silencing his brother.

The coroner's vehicle pulled up outside.

Shaking his head slowly, in absolute awe of the fact that one of these brothers was clearly lying for the other, in shock at the final conclusion of this unbelievable case that had shattered so many lives, staring at the dead body of his once decorated and now disgraced officer, Collig had to turn away for a moment.

One of his officers, a kid, really—no older than Frank Hardy--- asked him if he was okay.

Now THERE'S the question with no answer, he realized at once. There were no witnesses; there had been orders given to shoot and kill Daley anyway at first sighting. Daley had done irreparable damage; the Hardy brothers were as ethical and forthright as people came. One life barely deserved recognition; the other two lives hung in the balance. He thought of his years of friendship with Fenton Hardy and the horrors that these poor girls, living and dead, had gone through at Daley's hands. He knew he could—he should—turn a blind eye to these brothers and what one of them had done. It went against every rule that he knew in his heart was there for a purpose… but sometimes rules had to be broken, even at the cost of something as valuable as his own career.

But just as he was about to do something to the evidence all around him, Fenton Hardy entered the room, followed only by a person from the coroner's office who went to John Daley's body. Collig watched as Fenton realized in an instant what had happened and watched his face drain of color.

"It was me, Dad," Joe said gently to his father.

"No," Frank whispered. "Stop, Joe—please."

Fenton looked over to Collig and both friends exchanged a rare look, one that said, "It's up to you." It had only been exchanged one other time, long ago, on a case that even now neither could bear to think about. That time, Fenton had allowed Collig to take a chance on something. He realized that Collig was giving him the same opportunity now. Although they never spoke of it again, it was, Fenton knew, the reason for their strong loyalty to one another.

Fenton looked at Collig, who was leaving him with the decision. He looked at his boys, who had been through so much pain and who, even now, were going to go down or walk away from this mess together. Always—it would always be together.

His heart broke. It was a life or death decision, probably--- but he knew what to do. If he let them go, even if they, or at least one of them, had been totally justified in killing Daley, what message would that send them? He'd always taught them, and they had learned, to do the right thing.

Taking a small moment to reach over and cup the backs of both of their necks with his hands, he gently ruffled their hair. "It'll be okay. I'm here for you—all the way. I understand. I… I hope you do."

He turned away, blinking back tears, and nodded to Collig, who gave the smallest of smiles.

He walked to the Hardy brothers. "I… I guess if this has to be done, I'd like to be the one who does it." He swallowed the lump in his throat.

He was shocked when he heard Frank's voice. "It's okay, Chief," Frank said firmly. "You're doing the right thing. Just make sure that my little brother over here isn't involved. You know as well as I do that he had nothing to do with it."

He held out his hands.

Joe felt tears fall onto his cheeks and he didn't even attempt to brush them away. He couldn't cover for Frank anymore—they'd find out anyway soon what had really happened. He could only help Frank now as emotional support. He considered the irony, seeing as though he was the one beginning to break down --- but still, Frank did not cry.

It wasn't fair. Frank would be changed forever, and for what? For taking out someone who didn't even deserve to live.

"It's okay, Joe," Frank said quietly. "Just stall in telling Callie, okay? I need to be the one to tell her."

Joe looked down. Even now, in impossible circumstances, Frank was looking out for everyone else instead of himself.

The sound of Collig's voice brought him back to the present, as did the sound of handcuffs snapping shut. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say---"

The voice droned on as Frank was led away.

It was only when Joe felt his dad's hand on his back guiding him out the door that he realized that maybe, if everything had worked out so far, that Fate had one more thing left in Her bag of tricks to save his brother—one last time.

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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.