A/n: and so we come to the final installment of the POV series. there will be a proper sequel detailing our intrepid hero's recovery. eventually. I actually have another idea that I need to at least get a rough draft written first before sticking my teeth into something else.
The Death of Me
(My son is going to be the death of me) Fenton Hardy thought to himself as he raced towards Bayport, bending a few minor traffic laws in the process. (Forget criminal psychopaths. Forget heart attacks. Never mind kidnappings and torture. My youngest is going to do me in.)
At this late hour, traffic was nonexistent, which made it easier to continue bending minor traffic laws. Not that it would have made a difference. Professional courtesy and all that. Fenton had made it a point to cultivate friendly relationships with every local police department he ever encountered. From the big city departments like NY and Chicago to the one Sheriff hamlets in the middle of God's country, Fenton had always tried to respect their authority while still getting the job done.
It had been less than 24 hours since his contact at the FBI had gotten word to him about Joe's current condition. It took 3 to come up with a reasonable excuse to get him out of the undercover assignment without ruining the objective and another 6 to implement it. And now, here he was, speeding his way towards who knows what. All he knew was that Joe had been shot. He also knew Frank had been with him when it happened and that his elder son was uninjured. Physically, at least. He was all to aware of the close emotional bond his kids shared. He also knew that was mostly his doing.
Or rather, to be entirely accurate, his..not doing. Your average father worked a nice predictable work week. Monday through Friday, 9-5. Weekends and Holidays off, to be spent tossing the football around, imparting important wisdom such as the proper fly to use to attract the salmon every spring. Things like that. Fenton... was so not average it was laughable. Like every other person who choose to serve the public, weekends and National holidays were just a number on the calendar. If he actually knew what day it was half the time, that is. So, instead of his sons having a close personal relationship with their Father, they had it with each other. Some things a growing boy needed a male figure for. Laura did her best, but mothers can only do so much. So Frank and Joe learned to lean on each other. Fenton could not deny that such a relationship had probably saved their lives more than once, so he was grateful for it.
But every so often he allowed himself a small indulgence of self pity. Well, maybe not self pity. Perhaps a tinge of regret. His only sibling was his elder sister Gertrude and she had been more his mother than anything, seeing as how his own mother had died when he was very young. He did not have a frame of reference to understand the relationship his sons had with each other. He often wished he was able to connect to his children on something other than a professional level. Oh, the love was there, and the pride. Also the frustration that comes with having teenagers. (We won't mention the grey hair. Last time I did that I got the dirtiest look from my wife)
But if he was going to be brutally honest with himself, he would have changed nothing. Not even if it meant having a better relationship with his sons. What he did was more than a job or career.. it was a calling. One he was incapable of ignoring despite the sacrifices it entailed. He was supremely lucky to have found Laura, a woman capable of accepting that personality flaw without complaint or bitterness. And to have not one but both of his sons follow in his footsteps despite his never expecting it or even hinting at it? He was blessed and he damn well knew it.
Eventually, Bayport loomed ahead and he stopped bending minor traffic laws as the traffic had picked up as he got closer to the center of town where the hospital was. He swiftly found a parking spot and was quickly on his way upstairs to the ICU. Mandy Keller greeted him with a smile and offered to get him some coffee. He accepted with thanks and headed down the hall into the dark room at the end, knowing that either his wife or his eldest would be there keeping vigil.
He was correct. Laura was instantly in his arms. Neither parent spoke for many minutes. Eventually, though, he broke away and asked "How is he?"
"The surgery went well, so I am told and they expect him to wake up sometime tomorrow." she replied with a trace of relief in her voice.
A wave of emotion swept over Fenton at the news. Once again, Joe had beaten the odds. Or so he thought. Hesitantly, Laura told him about the possibility of paralysis. Fenton grew cold at that pronouncement but refused to show how deeply that affected him. Not in front of Laura. She had enough to deal with . "We'll deal with that if we have to. Right now, one step at a time. Tell me what happened."
So Laura recounted the story as told to her by Frank. Fenton could not help but feel a bit exasperated at Joe's chosen method of rescue. "You would think a quarterback would think 'Tackle!' not 'Shove'" he said with a small smile. Laura returned the smile and said "well according to Tony, quarterbacks try to avoid the whole tackling thing so of course he would not think of it in the heat of the moment. I suspect he was trying to make Frank feel better about what happened." She grew solemn. "He's really beating himself up over this. Keeps saying it was all his fault."
Of course. If there was one thing his sons excelled at, it was the martyr complex. One gets a paper cut and the other wants to slice his finger off to compensate. "I'll knock some sense into him later. You look tired, why don;t you go home and get some rest? My shift."
She nodded and with a last caress of her son and final kiss from her husband, she was gone. Mandy arrived with the promised coffee when she came in to check Joe's vitals. She chatted a few moments, bringing Fenton up to speed before leaving him to his thoughts.
The rest of the night passed quietly. Fenton spent it reminiscing over past events involving Joe. There was no denying he was more like his father in temperament than anyone else. Gertrude had often thew her hands up in despair declaring she had done her penance raising Fenton and she couldn't handle another one like him at her advanced age. He spent a long time going over the argument he and Joe had had over Frank. That one event hammered home more emphatically than any other that Joe and Fenton were exactly alike. So much so that it took his own heart attack to get the two must stubborn people on the planet to reconcile. In the year since he had returned from his stint in the Navy, Joe and Fenton had gone out of their way to try and work on that relationship. He recalled the last conversation they had before his most recent undercover assignment,
"Y'know Dad, I finally get it." Joe had said one early morning while they sat drinking coffee and fighting over the sports page.
"Get what?" he had asked.
"Why you do what you and what it costs you."
"What do you mean, son?"
"I had a few friends who were married on the ship. We would work days, nights, weekends, everything. And they would miss birthdays and anniversaries and all sorts of family events. But they all did it. Most did it without complaint. And they all missed their families, but they did it. Because we had a job that needed doing. And they sacrificed family time to keep the world safe for everybody. And the really successful ones? Still had great relationships with their families. They made every second they were home count. So thanks for making every second count." and with that Joe snatched the sports page out of his father's hand and dashed off into the living room.
It was sometime just before dawn when Fenton heard a stirring on the bed. Rising quickly, he bent over and was rewarded with his son opening those sapphire blue eyes and smiling at him.
A/n: Okay, here's the rationale. It takes a special breed of person to be a cop or a firefighter or a soldier. these people know the sacrifices they have to make and they do so willingly. I never really agreed with all those stories that had Fenton in sackcloth and ashes every time his kids got into a scrape. all that self recrimination is just not in character for him. Of course there will be regrets, every parent has them. but no one should ever be ashamed of the choices they make when those choices benefit society as a whole.