Chapter 1: The Last Straw

"I don't know how you do this." Eric Langhorne rested his elbows on his knees as he turned to Frank Hardy. They were seated in Bayport Memorial Hospital's emergency waiting room, awaiting news on Frank Hardy's younger brother Joe's condition. The older Hardy brother turned to Eric, chocolate brown eyes blinking tiredly.

"It's not easy, but it's part of the job sometimes." Frank replied flatly. They'd solved their latest mystery, bagged the culprits, but things did not end as clean and tidy as anyone would have liked.

Frank was sporting a sling to ease the strain on his dislocated (and now relocated) shoulder. Joe Hardy had tackled one of the suspects and sustained a couple of stab wounds in the ensuing struggle for the suspect's knife, and that was what had brought them to their current vigil.

Joe's fiancée, Vanessa Bender, sat beside the brothers' mother, Laura, her blonde head resting on the older woman's shoulder. The family patriarch, Fenton Hardy, paced to and fro across the waiting room, nervous energy and worry fueling his pace, and making it impossible to sit still.

"You're going to wear a hole in the linoleum, Fenton." Mrs. Hardy mentioned wearily. Mr. Hardy halted. "I'm fidgety." He replied, as he ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair.

"Why don't you find a vending machine? I could use a caffeine boost." Laura opened her purse to get out some change until Fenton stopped her.

"I've got it, Hon." he dug into his pockets, the silvery coins rattling as he pulled them out.

"I'll go with you Mr. H," spoke up Chet Morton from the other corner of the room where he, Phil Cohen and Biff Hooper, the boys' lifelong friends, had been sharing in the family's wait. "I need to stretch my legs anyway. You two need anything?"

"I'm good, Phil?"

"Phil?"

"Hey, um, what?" Phil looked up suddenly from where he'd been lost in thought.

"Wanna Pepsi?"

"Nah, I'm fine." Chet shrugged and turned to follow Fenton out into the hallway.

Phil tried to resume his train of thought as he sat back, glancing across the room to Eric and Frank. Although he was bruised and scraped up, Frank still looked handsome as always. The fringe of his chestnut brown hair spilled over onto his forehead, Phil itched to take his fingers and brush them out of the way. Frank sat shoulder to shoulder with Eric, gently rubbing the knuckles of his left hand against Eric's knee, a small (but big for Frank) display of comfort and affection (as if Eric was the one in need of it right now), but the other man seemed not to notice. Instead he appeared to be a thousand miles away himself, staring out to some fixed point, mulling over something serious.

Eric was a pale, tall, ginger haired young man. He was nice looking, enough, and he seemed nice, enough. He seemed to make Frank happy, but lately he had noticed an air of tension between the two. He hoped their relationship wasn't about to take a nosedive after this mess. Even though he could be stubborn at times, Frank was an old soul and he had a heart of gold in Phil's eyes. But Phil could never figure out why he never seemed to be very lucky in love. If anyone deserved to be happy, it was Frank Hardy. And if anyone ever had the worst timing in the world, it was Phil Cohen. Every time Phil thought he might ask Frank out, he was already dating someone, had just broken up with them (there was no way Phil was going to allow himself to be someone's rebound again, been there, done that) or was up to his elbows in a mystery and it was just not the right time.

"I need some fresh air." Speak of the devil, thought Phil. Frank glanced up at his boyfriend and Eric leaned over, gave Frank a peck on the top of his head, and exited the room. Biff stood too, stretching his tall frame until his fingertips could nearly touch the dropped ceiling tiles above him.

"I'm going to get some air too." He playfully smacked at the foot Frank had resting on his knee as he walked past. When they were gone Frank ran his free hand over his face, trying to massage his temples with his thumb and over extended middle finger.

"Lemme guess, you haven't taken the meds the ER doctor gave you?" Phil's remark caused Laura and Vanessa to sit up and Frank groaned.

"Asshat!"

"Eeyngeshparter!"*

"Franklin!"

"Frank, c'mon, at least a half of one to take the edge off." Vanessa pleaded with her future brother-in-law.

"I'm afraid it'll knock me out, I want to be alert when we get news about Joe." defended Frank, "and a half one might make me too loopy to drive."

"Unless you haven't noticed pal, you dislocated your right shoulder," said Phil, "you can't drive anyway."

"Do you wanna make a bet?"

"Frank, be reasonable." Laura's tone meant only one thing - even though her oldest son was an adult and freshly graduated from college, this argument was over. Frank groaned again, this time in defeat, and fumbled for the pill bottle in his jeans pocket.

….

An hour later the family and friends had reconvened in the waiting room, slightly more alert from the fresh night air, short walks, and caffeine. With the exception of Frank, who had finally succumbed to the effects of the pain medication and was softly snoring in the crook of Eric's shoulder and neck.

Dr. Bates, the ER's attending physician entered the room and approached Mr. and Mrs. Hardy. Eric tried to gently shake Frank awake, but he only snuffled in the material of Eric's shirt and continued to sleep.

"How is he?" burst out Vanessa, anxious for news. Dr. Bates smiled warmly at the young woman, "He'll be fine, Miss Bender. He's stable and awake, but we're going to admit him to the ICU for twenty four hours of observation. He lost quite a bit of blood, but we've sutured …"

The details of Joe's injuries had started to blur together for Eric. In a nutshell, Joe was going to live, but he was going to be laid up for a while. There was a significant amount of blood loss, the puncture wounds had come dangerously close to a main artery.

That could have been Frank.

From what Frank, his friends and family could tell him, this was not either brother's first brush with death or serious injury. Considering the career path Frank and Joe had chosen, this would not be the last.

Eric felt like an ice-cold hand was squeezing his heart. He'd lost his beloved mother to a heart attack when he was fifteen years old. His father had kicked him out when he'd come out to him and moved in with his grandmother during his junior year, and later drank himself to death before Eric could graduate from high school. He lost a friend he'd gone to high school with to suicide, and another to a hate crime. His dear grandmother who had taken him in suffered a debilitating stroke and was currently receiving palliative care in a hospice. For Eric, it seemed everyone he loved or held dear in his life was taken away. Wasn't all that he'd lost been enough loss for one lifetime?

Eric glanced down at Frank's sleeping face, and then over to Vanessa. Vanessa was so strong, so positive. As she was rising to follow Dr. Bates and Mr. and Mrs. Hardy to the ICU, she smiled at Eric. She was radiant, despite the late hour. Joe was going to be okay, and she would be there for him, every step of the way.

What if that was Frank in ICU? What if Frank had been a breath away from dying? He had fallen head over heels for Frank, he'd come to love him more than he'd loved anyone in his adult life. But the thought of losing yet someone else, Eric couldn't bear it.

…..

It was still dark outside when Biff and Phil helped Eric get Frank into Biff's SUV, and arrived at Frank and Joe's flat across town. The going was slow, but they finally managed to walk a semi- conscious Frank to the elevator, into the apartment, out of his soiled, bloody clothes, and gently eased him into his bed.

"Are you going to stay and look after him tonight?" Phil asked once Eric had pulled the covers just under Frank's chin.

"Yeah." Eric sighed. He walked Biff and Phil to the door.

"Call us if you need us, I know Mr. and Mrs. H are going to be tied up with Joe until they release him from the hospital." Said Biff.

"Will do." Eric tried to sound appreciative for their concern, but he had too much on his mind. As he locked the deadbolt to the door and turned out the lights in the den, the events and emotions of the night seemed to press down on him like a dead weight.

In a few hours it would be daylight, Frank would wake up and would want to see his brother. In a few days, when he was sure Frank would be okay, and that Joe would be okay, he knew he had to do one thing. He and Frank were going to have to have a long talk.

Authors note:

*Eeyngeshparter - Yiddish for a stubborn person.