Title: The Truth Shouldn't Hurt
Summary: When Frank Hardy is found unconscious in an alley, his family and friends realize he's got a secret that he isn't ready to reveal.
Rating: T
Notes: This is a Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys crossover. It is also non-graphic slash.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hardys, the Drews, their friends, or anything else recognizable.
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Frank Hardy stifled a cry as he sank down on his knees, doubled over in pain. As one of his assailants lashed out again, sending a booted foot into his chest, his attackers taunts played over and over in his mind.
He landed half on his back, half on his side, curled up, tears of pain that he could not stem running down his cheeks, but he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of making so much as a sound. A flurry of blows landed on his back, his sides, his legs and arms – until one mercifully snapped his head back against the concrete of the alley. He blinked, spots of light dancing through the darkness in front of his eyes before fading into utter blackness.
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"Hardy residence," Joe answered the phone almost automatically. Damn thing had been ringing off the hook all night; he was starting to feel like he was sitting behind the desk at Grand Central Station.
"Joe? This is Con Riley. Your parents around?"
Joe's stomach did a somersault, even though the officer hadn't said anything yet. "They went out to dinner." He paused, barely managing to keep the worry out of his voice. "What is it, Con?"
Riley hesitated. "Frank was found in an alley off of Temple Street. He's unconscious and pretty banged up. Ambulance should be reaching Bayport General right about now."
"How bad?" Joe gripped the back of the nearest chair so hard his knuckles had gone white.
"I can only guess, Joe."
"How bad?" he repeated.
"I'd say a concussion, broken arm, cracked ribs. I think he'll be okay, Joe. But I'm no doctor, and I only saw him as they were putting him in the ambulance."
"Meet me at the hospital?"
"I'm on my way now."
"Good." Unceremoniously, Joe hung up and grabbed his cell phone and keys and headed for the door. He could call his parents from the road.
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Fenton Hardy glanced quickly around the emergency room lobby, eyes finally lighting on his younger son. "Over there," he murmured, taking his wife's arm. "Joe!"
The blonde looked up at him, face pale, hair out of place. "Hey, Dad, Mom." Joe gave his mother a quick hug. "The nurse said a doctor would be out in a couple minutes. And Con's around somewhere… he went to get a coffee or something."
"What happened, Joe?" Laura asked, taking their son's hand and sitting down, pulling Joe down with her.
"All I know is it looks like he got jumped in an alley. No leads, no witnesses. Con said he thinks he'll be okay, but he only saw him for a minute or two, when they were loading him into the ambulance."
Fenton frowned, but nodded, glancing past to the uniformed officer making his way toward them. Holding out a hand, he shook Riley's firmly and asked, "Do you know anything?"
To his dismay, Con just shook his head. "No one saw him go into the alley; no one even saw him anywhere near it. Estimate is that he was there ten or fifteen minutes before he was found."
"Weapons used?" Fenton resisted the urge to take his notebook out of his pocket; Laura would leave him unconscious in an alley if she thought he was treating their son's attack like any old case. Besides, it wasn't as if he'd have trouble remembering what Con was telling him. This was their son after all.
"Hands and feet, looks like. Bruising, cuts from hitting the ground, but no bullet wound, no signs that a knife or anything of the sort was used." Fenton saw his wife wince out of the corner of his eye, and a little more color drained from Joe's face.
"Frank Hardy?" A voice behind him caught his attention, and he turned as Laura and Joe stood.
"Right here, Doctor…"
"Galvin." The physician, young with black hair and a friendly, unassuming face, shook Fenton's hand. "You're Frank's father?"
"I am. This is my wife Laura and my younger son Joe." He stepped aside as he made the introductions.
"How is our son?" Laura asked softly.
"He's awake, and asking for you. You can see him in a moment, but let me brief you quickly on his injuries." The doctor sat down, motioning for the others to do the same, and Fenton decided he liked the man.
"Frank sustained a concussion; he took a hard blow to the back of the head and lost a lot of blood. I'm mildly concerned about that, but the fact that he's regained consciousness already is a good sign – as I'm sure you know, given his medical history." Fenton gave him a rueful smile. They were intimately familiar with the nature of concussions; both boys had had more than their fair share of head injuries.
"He also has a broken arm – his left – and two broken, two cracked, and several bruised ribs. Massive bruising on his back and stomach, and more bruises, though less concentrated, on his arms and legs. I've set his arm, and it should heal without complications."
"Doctor, after his family visits with him, will I be able to talk to him?" Riley spoke up. "The sooner we find out what happened, the better off everyone will be."
"You can, but he's on pain medication, so I don't know how coherent he'll be at the moment."
"Anything will be better than what we've got at the moment."
Joe raised an eyebrow at Con. "You haven't seen Frank hopped up on painkillers before, have you?" Fenton couldn't hold back a laugh, despite the seriousness of the situation.
Even Doctor Galvin smiled at that. "Frank is in Exam Three," he said, stepping back and gesturing for them to go on ahead.
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Joe bounded into the room, skidding to a stop by Frank's bedside, not phased in the least by all the equipment and tubes and wires. "Getting into fights without me, big brother?" he chastised, folding his arms across his chest. "That isn't fair."
"Life isn't fair," Frank mumbled. "You'll get used to it."
"No I won't," Joe retorted, then quieted. "How you feeling, Frank?" he asked softly, perching on the edge of the hospital bed.
"Like I got hit by a truck," his older brother muttered. "Did I?"
Joe frowned, glancing over his shoulder at his father, then looked back at Frank. "Do you remember what happened?"
"Was a joke, Joe." Frank reached futilely for Joe's hand. Noticing his brother's movement, Joe took Frank's hand, squeezing it lightly.
"Frank, what happened? Do you know who attacked you?" Joe kept his voice soft, knowing that even with the meds, it wouldn't take much for Frank's head to feel like it was going to explode. "Do you know why?"
A strange expression passed over Frank's face, then he shook his head. "Don't know who."
"But you know why?" Joe asked, his stomach turning over on itself once more.
Frank started to nod, but then shook his head. "No. No, I don't know."
"Yes you do." Resting a hand on Frank's shoulder, Joe gave his brother an encouraging smile. "Why'd they jump you? What did they say to you?"
"N-nothing," Frank stammered. "Didn't say anything."
Joe shifted and looked over at his father. Judging by the look on his face he, too, had picked up on the fact that Frank was hiding something. "Frank, no one's going to hurt you; we just want to know why this happened, so we can catch the people responsible."
"N-no." The older Hardy boy shook his head. "I don't know."
"Yes, you do." Joe studied his brother's face. He knew Frank well enough to know he was hiding something. He knew why he'd been attacked; hell, he'd damn near admitted it himself.
"Stop it, Joe." The pitch of Frank's voice changed and he turned away. "I don't know."
Joe felt hands on his shoulders and turned as his father gestured for him to step aside. Together, they moved toward the wall, allowing their mother to take Joe's spot next to Frank.
"It's okay, sweetie," she said gently, taking his hand. "No one's going to hurt you; we just want to know what happened, that's all."
Frank just shook his head, pulling away from their mother, and Joe sighed, seeing the slightly stunned expression on her face. "All right, baby," she said softly, leaning over and giving Frank a gentle kiss on the forehead.
His father's hand left Joe's shoulder just then and their dad stepped forward. "Con Riley wants to speak with you. At least tell him what happened, son," he said gently, but Frank seemed to be in the mood to display some of the famous Hardy stubbornness.
"I don't know."
"Frank, you can't withhold information from the police." Joe searched his dad's face, trying to discern what the older man was thinking at the moment, but came up empty. It was from him that Frank had garnered the ability to conceal his emotions so well.
As if on cue, the door opened and Con poked his head in. "The doctor said they're getting ready to move Frank to a normal room. Any chance I can talk to him for a minute before they do that?"
"Good luck," Joe muttered, casting one more glance at Frank before stepping around Riley and walking out of the room. He heard his mother tell Frank they'd be back, and his father admonish him to cooperate with Con. Sure. Right.
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Fenton looked up when the door to Frank's room opened and Con came out. "He tell you anything?"
The officer raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be asking me if he could tell me anything?"
"No," Joe mumbled, and Fenton shot his son a look.
"Cool it," he warned him, narrowing his eyes slightly before returning his attention to Riley. "Did he tell you anything?"
"No. It's fairly clear to me that he does know something, but he isn't talking." Con shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, pocketing his notepad. "Fenton, a moment?"
Nodding, he moved away, Con following behind. When they were safely out of earshot, Riley said softly, "I don't need to tell you how this will look. Your boys make a habit of telling us more than we ever wanted to know whenever something happens. That Frank isn't talking now, that he's obviously hiding something… it doesn't look good."
Fenton's eyes narrowed. "Exactly how do you think this is going to look?"
"It's going to look like Frank's into something he doesn't want us to know about. A beating in an alley, Fenton? If this were some case a parent brought to you, what would you think? Right off, without looking into it?"
"Drugs," he answered softly. "Maybe drinking. Gambling…"
"And once you talked to the kid and got nowhere…"
"I'd be even more sure," Fenton sighed. "But this is Frank; he wouldn't…"
"I know." Con shook his head. "I just wanted to give you a heads-up. I'm going to stick with this investigation, and I'll do what I can. But if people think that Frank's hiding something…"
Fenton nodded. "Thanks. Keep me informed."
"I will."