Author's notes: Hi all! This is my first attempt at fan fiction; actually it's my first fiction in a very long time. I've enjoyed every minute (well maybe not every minute, but most of the minutes) of creating it, and I hope you all get some pleasure from reading it.

Just a quick note to give you all some background: should you feel as though some of your beloved Hazzardites are a little out of character, it may be because this story has a similar tone to those episodes that were actually filmed in Georgia. There are ways in which this story may be a little grittier than the series as it came to be in its later years.

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy it!

I do not own the Dukes or any of the major characters. Andy Roach is named for the agent that is mentioned in High Octane, but his personalitywas created by me.


Chapter 1 – Some Decent Wheels

"Lukas?" Both the use of Luke's full name and the slightly elevated pitch of his voice betrayed Bo's anxiety.

"Steady, Bo. Keep 'er on the road."

They weren't on a road, but Bo understood that his job was to keep the car under control while Luke took control of everything else. The only problem was that they were running blacked out, no headlights, on a cloudy night, down a deer path through the woods. And Luke could find nothing to even the odds as the car behind chased them down.

Bo and Luke Duke were in as much trouble as they ever had been. And nothing in the past month had prepared them for it.


One month earlier…

The blonde teen watched with a practiced eye as the sky darkened. The sound of thunder and smell of electricity and moisture in the air alerted him that he had just enough time to gather the tools he'd been using to repair the hound dog pen and get into the house before the afternoon storm could break. Relentless summer heat, coupled with the cooler air dropping down from the mountains to the west led to an almost daily thunderstorm in the northern Georgia climate. The rain rarely brought relief, however. It somehow left both the fields and the farmhouse even steamier than they had been in full sunlight.

Across the farmyard, Bo could see his older cousin Daisy gathering the half-dry clothes off the line next to the house, while his white haired Uncle Jesse pulled the ladder away from the porch where the older man had been patching the roof. He sighed, hoping his uncle'd had sufficient time to complete the repair, considering how much water had come pouring in yesterday, and how ugly the sky was looking right now.

Pushing his too-long bangs out of his eyes, Bo Duke suddenly realized that he'd better stop distracting himself and start focusing or both he and the tools would still be out here when the rain hit. If that happened, he'd not only hear it from his uncle and guardian, but also his oldest cousin, Luke. Not relishing the idea of a two-pronged attack, Bo quickly gathered everything together, stashed it in the barn, and made for the old house just as lightning streaked towards the ground and the sky opened up.

"Hey, I thought maybe you'd built an ark out there and was fixin' to float away," Daisy greeted as a soggy Bo stumbled into the kitchen. He had to grin at his beautiful, but somewhat kooky, cousin's sense of humor. Sometimes that girl said the craziest things, but right now that was just fine with Bo.

"I hope Luke don't float away," commented Jesse, who was pouring himself some leftover coffee. "Them old tires on that truck won't keep him on the road, considerin' the way you boys drive." Bo giggled. "Hope he's got the good sense to stay in town until the storm passes."

"If Luke's got nothin' else, he's got sense," Daisy answered. "Besides, he's likely to see the rain as an excuse to turn a trip into town for supplies into a chance to stop in and spend some time with the guys at the Boar's Nest. I heard that Cooter was lookin' for him."

Bo used this brief interaction to escape unnoticed into the living room, where he could continue, in peace, the train of thought he'd been following before the rain. It was not in Bo's normally gregarious nature to want to be alone much. In fact, of the three cousins, he was the most likely to seek company, though Daisy was pretty outgoing as well. But for the last few weeks, ever since his graduation from high school, Bo had been feeling somewhat out of sorts, or maybe just out of place. He knew that graduation ought to have made him happy, but instead it had left him adrift. Although he'd hated school – absolutely hated it – at least it had been something to do, someplace to play football and be amongst friends. School provided him with a social contact that he was missing here on the farm.

It was not supposed to be this way. When Luke had left three years ago for Vietnam, Bo had been devastated. His cousin's confidence that he could handle whatever the Marines and the war threw at him did not console Bo in the least, nor did Luke's assertions that his youngest cousin would be fine without him.

Luke had found him down by the creek, indigo eyes flashing, body rigid, as if preparing for a fight.

"Why do they gotta take you? They already got so many." Even 15-year-old Bo knew the illogic of this complaint, but he couldn't help himself.

"Aw, Bo…" Luke didn't even try to answer the question. "Listen, if me going now means you won't have to go in four years, then it's worth it."

"Butcha don't know what'll happen in four years, whether you go or not!"

Realizing that this argument could neither be won nor lost, and understanding the emotional nature of the boy standing in front of him with his jaw jutted in anger, but his eyes revealingly moist, Luke said only, "It's OK, Bo," and pulled him close. Past words, Bo expressed his opinion in tears.

Over the next few years, all Bo saw of his cousin was letters and the occasional photo. Those photos brought Bo the most joy – visual proof that his cousin was alive, and also the most pain – an exhausted looking Luke with that horrible crew cut, his arms around boy-men that Bo would never know, and who were clearly replacing Bo in Luke's life. He didn't begrudge Luke his military friends; he knew his cousin needed them. He just minded that Luke was away at all, because if his cousin was here, there'd be photos of him and Bo, both looking young and lively, with full heads of opposite colored curly hair, arms around each other, leaning on the hood of Luke's yellow car. The young blonde was sure that even if his cousin made it home alive, he would forever resent these years taken from them.

And so Bo decided that whenever Luke came home, they would begin to make up for lost time. He imagined all that they would do together: work, play and in-between.

Sitting here in the only house he could remember living in, with the only family he'd ever known, Bo couldn't help but idealize the life he'd lived before Luke left. Even though he recognized that things could not possibly be as perfect as he remembered them, Bo was sure that when they were kids, the four year age difference between himself and Luke hadn't much mattered. Certainly, everything that was important to his life he'd learned from his older cousin: hunting, fishing, how to hit a ball, how to sweet talk a girl. And in his most precious memories, Bo could find times when the young man he thought of as his older brother would talk to him, or just listen, which was really surprising when you thought about it, because neither of the boys tended to sit still for very long.

Since Luke had returned to the tiny town of Hazzard, in the county by the same name, Bo hadn't felt close to him at all. He guessed he spent enough time with his older cousin, seeing as they continued to share a bedroom, as well as chores, and Luke was certainly friendly enough. There just didn't seem to be that close connection between them anymore, and his dark-haired cousin was as quick to go off alone as he was to spend time with Bo. Now that he was out of school, it was even harder on Bo that his once best friend seemed so distant.

"Hey Bo," Daisy greeted as she joined him in the living room, "the mail came; your car magazine is here." The blonde's mood picked up a little as she tossed it to him. He'd been trying to figure out how to soup up his own "runner," a car he could deliver the family wares in. There were several cars around the farm in various states of disrepair, including Jesse's older Ford pickup, a Plymouth that Daisy claimed as hers (though it had been Luke's before he left), the work truck that could move heavy items around the farm but probably was not road-worthy, an ancient pickup that Luke was using now that he was back, and a couple of wrecks stashed out in the old barn at the back of the property, from which the family would scavenge parts for all the working automobiles. But Bo's favorite, heck, everyone except Daisy's favorite, was Uncle Jesse's runner, Sweet Tilly. A deceptively heavy looking Ford, Tilly was actually capable flying down the roads and trails of Hazzard, carrying her precious cargo, which was painstakingly hidden behind false panels that were carefully padded to protect against breakage should some quick maneuvering cause the contents of the car to be jostled.

Under Jesse's skilled hands, Tilly was an amazing machine. Bo longed for more of a chance to drive the big black car; the few times he'd been in control of the vehicle, he'd felt a surge not only of power, but also of confidence. It was as though, behind the wheel of a powerful car like Tilly, he had a sudden sense of who he was and where he was going. Right now, this was a very good thing for Bo Duke.

Jesse had taught him the basics of driving quite some time back. On the confines of the farm, each of them had learned to drive in their early teens. They hadn't hit the blacktop until they were of legal driving age, and their uncle had a family rule about no one making a run (either as a driver or passenger) until they were 18. Since Jesse had taught him the nuts and bolts of driving, Bo had taken it upon himself to figure out handling the car through quick turns and stops, some planned, some spontaneous, and some downright frightening. The blonde felt like he was making progress. But he'd seen Luke make the car do things he'd never seen Jesse do, and hadn't yet figured out how to do on his own. Bo suspected that his uncle was capable of all that Luke was, and maybe more, but he sure wasn't going to teach those skills to his nephews; Jesse stubbornly insisted on keeping the boys alive. So Bo figured maybe he could kill two birds with one stone. If Luke was teaching him the finer points of whiskey moonshine runner driving, they'd also be spending more time together, rebuilding the close friendship they'd once had.

Having at least that much of a plan formed in his mind, Bo relaxed into more of his normal self. With a grin, he bopped his pretty female cousin on the head with his rolled car magazine.

"Bo Duke, I swear!" Daisy said, using one hand to shake a threatening finger while the other hand finger combed her long hair back into place. The scolding was softened by one of Daisy's winning smiles, though. "Just when I think you're growin' up and gettin' all serious, you prove me wrong. Good to know you're still you, sugar. I was startin' to wonder." Her smile turning mischievous, Daisy reached out and gently tickled her younger cousin. Her action was rewarded with a giggle, her favorite sound from the boy.

Stepping away from Bo and the sofa, Daisy took a quick look out the window, scanning the sky for a break in the weather. It was clearly not going to get any nicer out there for a while to come. Sighing, she turned back and faced the room, surprised to find Bo studying her.

"What's out there, Daisy-girl, your Prince Charming?"

Daisy arched an eyebrow at the teen, answering, "Yeah, he's gonna take me away from all this so I don't have to put up with you fellas any more."

"Nah," Bo laughed, "he'll just move in here with the rest of us and be one more guy for you to have to live with."

"It's bad enough looking after the three of you," the young woman chastised. "No wonder I used to always wish for a sister." Not wanting the teasing to get out of hand, because both she and the boy in front of her could be a little sensitive, Daisy sat down next to Bo and squeezed him into a quick hug. As they let go of one another, Bo turned to his magazine, leaving his cousin to her own thoughts.

Daisy silently marveled at how perceptive her teenaged cousin could sometimes be. Most of the time he was interested in his own things – cars, girls and sports, not necessarily in that order. But every now and then he would say something that made her realize that he was paying more attention to his surroundings than it seemed. Like that crack about Prince Charming. Did Bo know? Daisy herself was only figuring it out now, so she didn't think he could. In fact, she really hoped it was a coincidental remark.

Just my luck, Daisy thought. All three Duke cousins were known for their romantic adventures, though none had ever been very serious, at least as far as Daisy knew. Which was part of why she surprised herself with the realization that she was falling very much in love, and not only that, but with the worst possible person. And the best possible person.

Because loving Andy Roach was not a simple thing. Almost everyone in Hazzard had known almost everyone else in Hazzard their whole lives. Daisy found it hard to think of any of the boys she'd grown up with as anything more than the scab-kneed kids they'd been a mere decade before. She was frequently surprised at how attracted they were to her, since she'd been a skinny tomboy that almost no one noticed until well into high school.

But "newcomers" to Hazzard were not only rare, they tended to be dangerous; not because they were all criminals or anything, although the county's size and location did seem to attract an unusual number of those. No, the most dangerous new members of the Hazzard community were the ATF agents that would rotate through the Appalachian town. No agent ever asked to be assigned to the tri-county area, rather it was a rite of passage to learn the ropes in a smaller moonshining town before earning a more pleasant post in Atlanta, Savannah or Albany. Andy Roach was the latest of these inexperienced "revenuers" sworn to stop the illegal liquor trade. In other words, it was Andy's job to put an end to the only real income that the Duke farm produced.

Oh, the farm could come pretty close to sustaining them as far as food went, what with the garden and the animals, but of course the family needed more than food. The farm's primary crop, corn, would sell for only a dollar a bushel, thanks to the tremendous supply in Hazzard and the nonexistent demand. No, the only purpose for the corn was the very thing Andy Roach was placed in the tri-county area to stop: the production and sale of black-market corn whiskey. Uncle Jesse was locally and even regionally famous for his recipe, and as such was one of Agent Roach's prime targets.

Day work never stopped a man from having a social life, however, at least not in Hazzard. This part of the south was not known for its wealth, and like the people of the region, Hazzard could only afford one of most things, and there were some things it needed to borrow from its neighbors. There was just the one general store at which both the law and the law-breakers had to shop, side-by-side. There was only one garage, one doctor, one taxi and one place to go to relax.

This last was where Daisy and Andy had met: The Boar's Nest. While her cousins and uncle tended the farm and the whiskey works, Daisy had been hired to an in-town job. No Duke had ever punched a clock before, nor worked steadily for anyone other than another Duke, but Daisy was already a rarity in the Duke line. Raised by and among boys and men, she was fiercely independent and not likely to marry anytime soon. And while she did her share of the farm chores, she was built light and slender, so even she had to admit that she could not shoulder the kind of heavy work that the boys did. By mutual agreement, keeping house was as minimal a task as possible, since they did not spend a lot of time indoors anyway, and they all did their best to keep things in their rightful place. For that matter, everyone in the household pitched in to keep it running, which meant that everyone could cook to a greater or (in Bo's case) lesser extent, and while such things as laundry were left to Daisy, it was largely because she was the one with all of the clothes. The boys wore only slight variations on a theme, and had several interchangeable sets. Besides, when it came to clothes, Daisy and her male cousins had a very different definition of the word "clean."

And so it was that when the owner and proprietor of the Boar's Nest, County Commissioner Jefferson Davis Hogg, approached the young woman to wait tables at his seedy establishment, Daisy embarked on her own unique adventure, and took to it like a hen to laying. A town job, while historically eschewed by the Duke clan, afforded the family an advantage they'd never had before: someone at the center of activity to keep an eye and an ear out for trouble.

Trouble comes in the strangest, and sometimes most attractive, of packages. One sweltering noon it came strolling into the 'Nest, alongside a known enemy – its predecessor, Agent Joe Higgins. Despite her awareness of the man to his left, however, Daisy was instantly transfixed by Andy Roach. Not as ruggedly handsome as Luke, nor as charmingly cute as Bo, this man was striking nonetheless. His sandy hair and hazel eyes, along with the tall frame that looked solid enough, though not as muscular as a farm boy's, attracted Daisy immediately. But best of all was his charming disposition and quiet intelligence that matched her own.

Nothing more than basic pleasantries were exchanged at that first meeting, but even after Agent Higgins had taken his assignment in Atlanta, Andy Roach seemed to find his way to the Boar's Nest an awful lot during a certain blue-eyed, brunette beauty's shift, and Daisy found herself looking forward to these visits. Within a few weeks, the young Duke realized she was thinking about the newcomer all the time, despite the revenuer's badge and gun that he carried. Somehow they began running into each other in other locations in town as well, until just last night he'd met her at her car (actually Luke's car, to be honest, but he seemed loathe to make her give it up). When her shift ended at 2 AM, he'd been there, casually leaning against the rear fender. They'd walked to a more secluded area and begun the process of getting to know each other better.

This afternoon's rain had disrupted a half-baked plan to go into town before her shift and try to drop in on Andy at his work. Perhaps it was just as well, because Daisy's impulses did not always serve her well. After all, there was certainly no logical reason for a Duke to voluntarily go into a revenuer's office. Should anyone spot her there, the explanation part could get pretty tricky. Daisy was excellent at fast-talking shuck and jive, so long as Luke was the master planner and gave her a role to play, but this budding relationship with the government agent was nothing she wanted to involve her older cousin in. He'd kill her. Well, maybe not kill, but it wouldn't be pretty, and what he did wouldn't hold a candle to the rant that Uncle Jesse would subject her to. Then there would be Bo's disappointed eyes… no this had to stay her little secret.

"Of all the luck," Daisy muttered under her breath. Bo, still sitting at her side on the sofa, was oblivious.


Luke had, in fact, gotten "trapped" in town by the rain. He could have headed for home, but didn't relish the harassment from the local law while dodging mudholes in the ancient pickup, which had been a resident of the farm even longer than Luke himself. Instead, Luke was tolerating the more gentle harassment of his friends, who were, as was frequently the case, gathered at the local garage.

"Losin' yer touch, no doubt about it," Cooter Davenport, the grungy mechanic whose father owned the garage, ribbed Luke.

"Nah, I just don't cheat like you. When I rebuild a carburetor, I make sure to use all the parts, not just the ones I like," Luke retorted, grateful for the easy banter.

"You tell him, baldy," DoBro pitched in, supporting Luke, who laughed gamely, even though the "baldy" comment had cut a little close to the heart. The retired Marine was trying to readjust to his pre-military life, but so far it was an awkward fit at best. His not quite grown out "high and tight" was a visible symptom of his struggle to find his place here at home. He'd seen, done, too much that didn't fit with his old life here. He loved his family just as much as he had three years ago, and appreciated them even more, but he had an instinctive need to keep them separate from his war experience, especially Bo, who would look at him with those dark blue eyes and just about melt his heart with all that innocence. Stubborn as they were and close as they had always been, the Duke family did not understand his need for quite so much privacy. Luke had always been the most reserved of the family, keeping more to himself than even their patient uncle, who thought his eldest probably became that way because he, unlike Bo and Daisy, was actually old enough to know his parents before they had died. The family had missed Luke so much while he was away that they didn't seem to be able to give him much breathing room now, wanting to know what he was thinking, where he'd been, what he'd done, and what he was going to do next. His friends, on the other hand, asked him for nothing more than his company.

"Where's that little cousin of yours?" asked Cooter, who was as fond of Bo as he was of Luke.

"Left him fixin' some stuff at the farm. I'll bring him next time. Or he can bring himself. Sometimes I forget that."

"Yeah, he ain't exactly Luke's little cousin these days," Brody reminded them.

"Pfft. He ain't that much taller than me, but he sure can see every gray hair on the top of your head," Luke retorted, causing Brody to check his reflection in the chrome of a hubcap.

"When you gonna get some decent wheels, anyway, Lukas?" asked Cooter.

Decent wheels were definitely something that the elder Duke boy knew he should want. Like most Hazzard boys, Luke had eaten, slept and breathed cars since he was a kid. He'd begun driving around the farm at 13, driving the dirt-covered back roads a year later and made it official with a license at 15 before hitting the blacktop. He'd learned the family trade since childhood, and had begun delivering it at 18 in Jesse's runner. He'd also done a fair amount of back road racing before Uncle Sam had taken him away from Uncle Jesse.

Somehow none of these activities seemed to interest the Marine since his return to northern Georgia. Actually, nothing much interested him; though he worked harder on the farm than he ever had before, it was mainly to distract himself. He also volunteered for the heavy work at the still, pulling the overnight shifts that his body was far more accustomed to than any of his kin. He preferred the offset schedule for now anyway, since it kept him from having to hold lengthy conversations with anyone. The only people who could understand the way he felt were others who'd experienced the same thing, and there were none currently in Hazzard. In Vietnam, Luke had been lonelier than he'd ever thought possible; here at home he was lonelier still.

"Guys, I gotta go," he announced abruptly, raising eyebrows all around. "Sorry, but Jesse needs me back home…" he added lamely, knowing that he'd just killed the jovial mood in the garage. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "Look, I'll see you guys Friday night, OK?"

The young men shrugged, laughed, patted Luke on the back and sent him on his way.


From his vantage point overlooking Old Mill Road, Enos Strate kept watch. The young deputy's eyes practically popped from his head in his eagerness not to let a single law-breaker get past him. During his short tenure in uniform, Enos had already learned a few important lessons: superior rank did not always mean superior intelligence, the various branches of government and law were often at odds, and a patrol car, though powerful, did not handle like a moonshine runner. Enos knew about runners from both sides, as a former driver for his father back when his old man made moonshine, and now as the lawman he had become.

On a late afternoon like this, however, Enos wasn't expecting to see anyone delivering corn whiskey. About all he could hope for was maybe a speeder. What he got instead was Luke Duke with a busted taillight. With a wide grin born of doing his duty, Enos flipped on his lights and siren, and began the chase.

Luke was not prepared for the light show in his rearview mirror, but it didn't matter. Reacting instinctively, he stood on the accelerator, fishtailing a little as the bald tires fought to grip the loose gravel and dirt surface of the wet road. Strike one. Glancing back, the dark haired Duke boy was surprised to see Enos behind the wheel of the cruiser. Unlike the rest of the sheriff's department, the new deputy could actually drive. Strike two. Luke narrowed his eyes, looking for the escape he'd need. In the meantime, he skirted the edges of the road, weaving from side to side. As the son of a moonshiner, Enos had some moves, but with any luck, Luke could get him to slide himself into a ditch by forcing him to oversteer. Approaching an overgrown cutoff road, Luke allowed himself a tight smirk. Enos had been forced to slow down to maintain control of the unfamiliar cruiser with its loose suspension. If the pickup could manage the turn at high speed, the Duke boy could lose the deputy in the dense brush of the old road. It was a perfect plan that did not take into account that there was another lawman on duty monitoring his newest charge. Just as Luke was preparing to crank the wheel to the right, Sheriff Rosco Coltrane pulled out from the thicket, blocking Luke's escape. Strike three.

"I got 'em, I got 'em!" the sheriff announced to no one in particular, as Luke slammed on the brakes and steered the truck into a 90 degree skid. The pickup managed to stop short of hitting the sheriff's cruiser, but Enos, coming up behind, was unprepared for the impromptu roadblock ahead, and began his skid too late to avoid the cars in front of him. Luke braced himself for impact: Bang-Boom.

"Ijit!"

"Sorry, Sheriff!"

With his pickup sandwiched between the two patrol cars, the Duke boy found he couldn't even get out of the ancient vehicle as both lawmen approached it from the front. Luke glared at Enos.

"That's one way to stop," he muttered.

"Sorry, Luke, but you have a busted taillight, and I had to stop you. It's dangerous and you coulda got hurt!"

"Right, coulda got hurt by getting rear-ended by another car," Luke sassed, one eyebrow raised, waiting for Enos to see the irony. He might have waited all day.

"All right, Luke Duke. License and registration."

Luke rolled his eyes, but stretched his arm out the window and passed Rosco the paperwork he'd asked for. There really was no alternative.

"Why'd you run, Luke?" asked Enos. "If you'da just pulled over, I woulda given you a ticket. Now I'm gonna have to charge you with evading arrest, too."

"Hush up Enos. I'll make the charges," the sheriff interrupted. Both Luke and Enos had known Rosco their whole lives. He was a pretty good lawman with a normally upbeat disposition and an occasionally unusual manner of expressing himself. The sheriff could be serious when dealing with real criminals, which at the moment, Luke was not. Luke's face registered surprise at Rosco's cold tone of voice. Enos simply lowered his head. The shy and somewhat clumsy deputy was desperate to do a good job and please his new boss, but he'd noticed that the sheriff was extremely testy lately. He was also unpredictable.

"All right, Luke Duke. Now I could charge you with evading arrest and damaging county property…"

"I didn't damage no county property Rosco. Enos here done that," Luke protested, pulling himself up to sit in the doorframe of the old truck.

"Now you hush up. I said I could, I didn't say I was gonna. Don't you tempt me, Luke Duke."

Luke held up his hands in mock surrender, watching Rosco carefully. The sheriff had never cut him or any of his family a break before, and Luke didn't believe he was going to do so now.

"Now Enos, you get the garage on the radio there, and have them send a tow truck out to clean up this horrendous mess, and impound that vehicle. Then you give Luke here a citation for that taillight, and another'n for speeding."

"Yes sir, Sheriff, but…"

"Enos, now, no buts. Just do what I said." Rosco handed Luke his documents, then stalked around the front of his patrol car, climbing into the undamaged driver's side. With a shriek of metal on metal, the still-muttering sheriff yanked his car free of the pickup and rattled down the road.

"Listen Luke, I'm awful sorry, buddy. You shoulda stopped. Why didn't you?" Enos was genuinely befuddled, though he shouldn't have been. No moonshine runner would ever intentionally stop for lights and sirens, even if the person sitting below those gumballs was a childhood friend.

Leaving Enos' foolish question hanging because he couldn't have answered it in a civil tone, Luke slid back into the pickup and tried the ignition. When that failed, he shoved at the door. Finally, he climbed up and out of the window, muttering under his breath about stupid deputies.

Enos has seen this side of Luke Duke before, considering they had grown up together. Although he didn't understand this sullen fit of temper now, he chose to let Luke be. After all, he didn't want to have to charge his friend with assaulting an officer of the law.