Chapter 1: Not broken, just bent
"Good bye and good riddance!" Frank Hardy called out from the front porch. The twenty four year old gave an overly dramatic farewell and salute in the general direction of his younger brother, Joe, and his childhood friend, Allen "Biff" Hooper.
"What're you talking about? We're putting this thing in your shed in case you goof up and break your other leg." Joe retorted as he got down on his knees with a wrench to start loosening the nuts and bolts on the wooden access ramp he and Biff had built several months before.
"Ha, ha, very funny little brother. Biff, do you have room in your truck to haul that to Joe's? He might hurt himself making wisecracks like that, he'll need it next." Frank shot back as he settled himself on the porch swing, his new favorite place. He kicked off with his bad leg as he watched his brother and friend toil away.
Almost eight months had passed since Frank's femur had been nearly shattered by an outraged and ancient vampire patriarch. In addition to the fracture, the damage to his muscles and nerves had been extensive, coupled with the complications of pneumonia and a few broken ribs.
After two surgeries and months of rehabilitative therapy, Frank was finally able to ascend stairs with relative ease. He still relied on the use of a cane and a leg brace for support. The leg continued to give him grief, worse when he was tired, or if it rained. But his gait had improved, even on the days when he didn't use his brace. His therapist, Corey Welker, was hopeful that in a year's time, Frank would be walking well enough that no one would ever know he had a permanent metal rod in this leg.
"Airport security will be a nightmare, but you should be able to get around just fine." the therapist assured. "And by spring you could be light enough on your feet to dance at your wedding. Well, slow dance anyway..."
…
"Hey Frank, take a look." Biff woke Frank from the cat nap he'd succumbed to, which was easy to do when rocking away a hot summer afternoon in the shade of the covered front porch. A breeze rustled the leaves of the massive oak tree in the front yard. Frank leaned back again and let the cool air wash over him.
"Frank, get your hobblin' ass down here." His brother called.
"Just enjoying the breeze." Frank grinned as he stilled the rhythmic motion of the porch swing with his left foot. Joe couldn't help but smile at his brother's genuine enjoyment of such a simple thing. Frank Hardy, who up until about a year ago was Mr. All-Work-and-No-Play, Mr. Never-Stops-to-Smell-the-Roses, had been forced to slow down during his convalescence and appreciate the little things in life. Joe also attributed the change in Frank's outlook on life to the happiness he had finally found in his love life.
After years of hits and misses, Frank had finally realized his truest feelings, and had fallen in love with his best friend and confidant. On a balmy Independence Day evening, under a shower of fireworks, he had proposed marriage to the love of his life.
Just then, Frank's fiancée, Phil Cohen, pulled onto the driveway in a silvery blue Ford Fusion and got out of the car with an armful of groceries.
"Whoa, I'd forgotten what the front of the house looked like without that ramp there!" Phil walked up to the now cleared steps and handed Frank a bag to carry, along with planting a kiss on his cheek.
"Glad to do it. Of course, the promised cookout by the beach was a mild incentive." Biff said as he patted his belly.
"Well, let me get this stuff put away and fill the cooler and we'll be on our way. Does anyone know if Chet's joining us?" Phil asked.
"He's pulling a double shift in the ER tonight." Biff answered, shaking his head.
"What about Vanessa, Joe? Thought she was going to try to make it."
"Van's at her mother's house, they're trying to finish those darn thank you notes from the wedding." Joe pulled a face at the thought of all those small white note cards and envelopes that Vanessa had left house with earlier that day.
"You know, it was your wedding too, you could help her." Frank called back to Joe as he followed Phil into the house.
"But she's so much better at that kind of thing than I am." Which, for Joe, that actually translated to "It's boring, and I'd rather hang with the guys."
Biff and Joe began to clean up their tools and the loosened boards while Phil and Frank filled a cooler with ice, soft drinks, bottled water and the preformed hamburger patties Phil had just purchased. Frank looked back toward the front yard where his brother and friend were finishing up. The heavy ramp was lifted with relative ease by both men, even with Joe supporting the heavier end of the ramp with one hand.
That told Frank several things at once, Joe was still on the stuff, and if he was still on the stuff, that meant he was still helping Biff with his pastime too. The brown haired Hardy groaned inwardly. Wasn't it bad enough Joe had taken on more responsibilities and leg work with the detective agency since he'd been out on recovery? Did he really have to put himself more at risk by helping Biff on the side? Joe and Vanessa had barely been married a month, he had to think about her too. A brotherly chat was in order, and sooner rather than later.
"…nk? Yoo-hoo, Earth to Frank." Frank turned his attention back to Phil who had the cooler in his arms trying to pass him in the doorway from the kitchen. Frank noticed Phil's biceps and forearm muscles were relaxed, despite the weight of the heavy red and white cooler. Oh no, not him too. And why hadn't he noticed before? Too busy enjoying summer breezes and smelling the roses, he guessed.
"Babe? Are you okay?"
"Um, yeah, just lost in thought."
"Well would you grab the front door for me?" Frank obliged and watched Phil put the ice chest in the trunk. Frank had to give Phil a little credit. He probably had a good reason for partaking of the vampire blood that Biff and his cousins, all vampire slayers, harvested when they went on their hunts. Maybe Phil didn't quite trust the protection offered by Amy Johnson and her offspring, both friendly vampires, if one could consider a penitent vampire friendly. Or maybe he felt a need to be overprotective of Frank.
It still seemed a little odd. For years, Frank had been the one who stuck his neck out, looked after his younger brother on cases, always there whenever someone needed him. Now here he was the one being looked after and protected. It warmed his heart, to see his younger brother step up in his responsibilities, and for Phil to look after him as he had. But there were days when being treated with kid gloves chaffed horribly.
He missed his freedom of movement. He missed not being in some form of pain every day. He missed being able to drive, his independence. Frank longed to return to his family's private investigations office. But his father and Joe sent plenty of "busy work" for him to do from his home office to keep him occupied, and still feel like a productive member of the business. Even though Frank was not the social butterfly that Joe was, he had come to miss the person-to-person contact with the clients and witnesses. Indeed, there was a laundry list of things he missed from before he was hurt.
"Let's see, did you pack up a bag with our swim trunks and beach towels?" Phil asked as he re-entered the kitchen.
"Yes, dear." Frank said with just a wee bit of sarcasm. But he smiled and Phil came up to him, wrapping his arms around his fiancée and pressed a kiss to his lips.
"Someone's full of himself this afternoon." Phil noted. Frank kissed him back, running his hands over Phil's bare arms.
"Just looking forward to the beach." Frank replied, "The bag's on the foot of the bed. I'll go get it."
"Okay Babe. I'll see if Joe and Biff are ready too."
Frank walked into the bedroom, sat on the edge of the bed and began tugging on the Velcro straps of his brace. Definitely didn't want to get sand caught up in that thing. He looked at his exposed leg, and traced the long scar on the outside of his thigh that extended down to the side of his knee. Frank sighed heavily as he thought back on the circumstances that had brought him to this point.
His ex-boyfriend, Eric Langhorne, had popped back into his life less than a year ago, and just as quickly he was dead. But his body had been stolen from the morgue and after months of trying to find answers, the case started to go cold, and coincidentally, Frank and Phil's relationship had taken off. Then out of nowhere Eric returned, a vampire, and stole Frank away. Frank had been raped, mentally abused with threats to his family and Phil, and was in the process of being turned into a vampire himself when he had been rescued by his brother, his lover, his friends, and complete strangers. The long, pale scar on his leg wasn't the only scar Frank had been left with. But Phil, Joe and his family had been more than patient with him, and slowly, he was getting there.
Biff had offered Frank a few vials of the deep red elixir, but the older Hardy brother had turned him down. The short-term benefits were outweighed by the knowledge that it wasn't a permanent solution. Sure, taking the vampire blood would give him a day of strength. He would probably walk with greater ease and virtually no pain. But really, it would be a temporary fix, he knew the only way to truly regain his strength and command of his own body was to stick with the physical therapy and allow time to do the healing.
…..
"I don't believe it can get any better than this, boys." Biff announced as he raised his soda bottle in a toast to his friends.
"I'll second that." Phil replied and took a long swig from his bottled water.
The sun had set, and the foursome were gathered around the campfire, well fed and exhausted from a few rounds of Frisbee and horsing around in the waves. Frank was reluctant to get out of the surf. The waters of BarmetBay were a great deal calmer and slightly warmer than the icy waters directly off the Atlantic that lapped up against Fire Island.
The sand around the campfire was still warm from the late July sun, so Frank dug his feet deeper into the powdery turf and sank into the comfort of his umbrella chair, gazing into the flickering flames of the campfire and listening to his brother, fiancée and friend chat and joke.
"So he said, "Witherspoon?" And I said, "No, with a knife!" Biff chortled at the old joke that he'd stumped his roommate and best friend, Chet Morton, with the other day.
"Oh Lord. He fell for that one again?" The honey blonde Hardy brother laughed at the muscle-bound man.
"Run it by him again in six months and he'll still fall for it, poor bastard." Biff ran a hand over his military-styled haircut as he laughed, trying to knock out the dried salt that clung to his stubbly, light brown pelt. He stopped suddenly and drew in a deep breath. Biff turned to Joe, who just raised an eyebrow in confusion, then straight to Frank and Phil across the fire.
"We've got company." he announced and stood from his beach chair, a grim look on his face.
Frank turned in his chair, on the dune behind him stood a dark, short figure. He rolled his eyes and threw a hand in the air.
"Hey Ezekiel!" he greeted the teenager in the distance. Biff narrowed his eyes then sat back down.
"We can't even have a guys' night out without Little Brother watching." Biff grumbled as he unscrewed the cap on his drink.
"You're just mad that it's Amy's night off." Ezekiel shot back as he approached the circle, remaining in the shadows and away from the campfire.
The sandy blonde youth was a one hundred and sixty four year old vampire. His first life had been nearly cut short at the hands of his stepfather. Amy, who was over two centuries older than the lad, had saved him and "adopted" him, more or less.
Ezekiel and his "mother" had sworn to protect the older Hardy brother and Phil from the selfish efforts of Eric Langhorne after Frank had sacrificed his own safety for theirs. It was a rare occurrence, a human saving a vampire. The mystic oath Amy Johnson and Ezekiel Turner had taken bound them to protect the couple for the remainder of their mortal lives. Their vampirehood made them Biff's natural enemies. But an unspoken truce had been struck between the three of them for Frank's sake.
"How's it going Zeke?" Joe asked. If his older brother could trust the teenage vampire, he would too, or at least try.
"Ezekiel, Joseph." The teen huffed as he pushed his glasses back up on his nose.
"Fine. How's it going Ezekiel?"
"Pretty good, thanks for asking." Ezekiel reached into the pocket of his hoodie and produced fluid-filled pouch. "Mind warming that up by the fire for me, Frank?"
"No problem." Though he did grimace as he accepted the pouch from the vampire and set it in the sand close enough to warm the blood within, but not to melt the plastic.
"So where's "Mom" tonight?" Biff inquired.
"Amy's in Manhattan, some small label fashion show. She wanted to check out their fall line."
"Sounds boring as crap."
"Tell me about it." The teen shook his head, then he motioned to Frank for his pouch. Frank handed him his meal and the youth sat in the sand by Frank's chair and quietly fed.
"Not that I don't enjoy your company Ezekiel, but aren't you worried about getting our scent on you being this close?" Phil asked, cringing as he watched the boy casually drink the type AB.
"The salty air and the sea breeze ought to take care of that." Ezekiel shrugged.
"If you say so."
"Besides, if I suspect I have your smell on me, I can just go take a bath in the ocean."
"Well be careful out there." Frank advised, "The water was starting to get a little choppy before we came up to dry off."
"You don't have to worry about that. Vamps aren't known for being the greatest of swimmers, we sink like a rock."
"Oh, really?" Biff could not recall his grandfather imparting this bit of vampiric wisdom on him. Ezekiel laughed nervously at his accidental admission.
"Well, drowning is not an issue for the obvious reasons. But I've crossed the bottom of many a river or lake when I've absolutely had to."
"Hmmm, good to know." Biff nodded and stroked his chin with an evil grin on his face.
"You're hilarious Hooper." The youth turned away and tossed his empty pouch to the closest rubbish bin several yards away. He pumped his fist when he actually made the shot.
Joe's phone chirped from his jacket pocket. He sighed as he fumbled through the pocket for his phone.
"Must be the witching hour." He commented as the chirping stopped just as he flipped it open. Ezekiel looked up from his spot by Frank with a serious look on his young face.
"It's not midnight yet." he whispered, but Frank smirked at his earnest confusion.
"Probably just his wife checking in. It is getting pretty late." the brunette supplied quietly.
"He married a witch?" Ezekiel's eyes widened in curiosity.
"What? No…" Frank shook his head in defeat and turned his attention back to his brother who was returning the call on his phone.
"Hey Chet, you rang?" The wide smile on Joe's face faded as he sat up straighter in his chair. His other hand flew to his hair, and he raked his fingers through the messy locks as he listened intently.
"What's wrong?" Frank mouthed to his brother, but Joe wasn't with them, his focus was totally on whatever Chet Morton was saying on the other end. Biff was on the edge of his seat hoping he could hear what their friend was telling Joe.
"Alright, I'm on my way. Thanks man, for everything." Joe snapped his phone shut and looked up at his brother and friends.
"Van's been in an accident. Chet just got the call from the ambulance that they're en route to the hospital."
…
Author's Note:
The plot and story for "Some Nights" had been in my mind for some time when it was written. I have only the bare bones of this story thus far, so the updates may take a little longer. I hope that you will read, enjoy, and review.
I don't own diddly squat and make no claims toward any of the established characters from the books.