Title: Far from Home

Rating: T/PG-13

Warnings: Some violence, implied abuse.

Summary: Fenton disappeared and is presumed dead while on a case in Chicago, leaving Frank and Joe to the mercy of the foster care system. Assigned to separate foster homes, the boys try to prove that their father is alive so they can fix their family and return to Bayport.

Meanwhile, Nancy Drew has become suspicious of the two new students at her school. The story they tell doesn't make sense, and with the rash of petty crime affecting the school, Bess' new neighbor is on the top of her suspect list, along with his secretive older brother.

Author's Note: I could have sworn I read a book where Joe and Frank were suspects in Nancy's case and their first meeting was hostile, and that was what I figured the first supermystery must have been. I read it and found nothing of the sort. They were all old friends. Having watched the meeting of them on the seventies television show, I wondered if maybe that was why I thought it, but what I pictured was still different from what was on screen.

So... In the end, I decided to write my own version where they meet as her suspects. I came up with an entire AU starting where Frank and Joe were "orphaned" as teens in Chicago. They've never crossed paths with Nancy before, and they're in trouble with no one to trust.

Or, I am insane, and this is the result.

It may end up Frank/Nancy (maybe even Joe/Bess) but I haven't finished it yet, so I'm still seeing how things play out. I let stories choose their direction as they go.

Dangerous Placements

"Dad's not dead," Joe shouted, looking like he was going to take a run at the social worker. "And we have family. We shouldn't have to stay here."

Frank put a hand on Joe's shoulder, trying to calm his younger brother. That argument might have worked a few months ago, just after Fenton's disappearance and before the car was found in the river, but now it was hard to believe, especially for skeptics who didn't know their father like they did. Frank didn't believe he was dead, but he didn't think anyone else would see that as any more than grief talking. They were, unfortunately, stuck.

"Your father is gone," Mrs. Hausler said, keeping her voice gentle, "and since we've been unable to reach any of your family, you have been declared wards of the state."

"I don't understand," Frank said, attempting to stay calm. "What about Mom? Aunt Gertrude?"

"You were aware that they were traveling in Europe?"

Frank nodded. "That was their plan, but that trip was only two weeks long. They should be back by now and—you're not suggesting they're dead, too?"

"No one knows," Hausler said, reaching up to adjust her glasses. She took them off and let them rest on the chain around her neck. "I'm sorry, boys. With your mother and aunt out of contact and your father dead, there is no other course for us to take."

Frank swallowed. "What about... emancipation? Can I file for that? I can get a job and support myself."

"Perhaps, but that's not an option for Joe right now, and even if you were able to gain that status, it wouldn't be enough to grant you custody of your brother," Hausler explained. She gave Frank a look of pity that made him sick to his stomach. "I'm afraid my bad news doesn't end there."

"You're placing us separately," Frank said, and bile rose up his throat. How was he supposed to take being in a different home from Joe? More importantly, how was Joe going to take that? "You can't. We need to—"

"I'm afraid it's very difficult to keep families together, but in the case of two teenage boys... Well, houses might be willing to take in one, but not two. I'm sorry. Joe is going to a nice home with two other children. The mother is a stay-at-home mom, and the father is an accountant. Frank, you're going to be the first child we've placed in this home. They're a bit nervous about that, but I'm sure they'll be impressed with your maturity."

Frank nodded. He knew he could handle whatever was coming, but Joe had a tendency to be hot-headed and impulsive. He might cause trouble. "Are we... at least in the same school?"

"Oh, yes. You'll be in a nice suburb of the city. River Heights. It'll be a good place for both of you. Trust me."

Frank forced a smile, tightening his grip on Joe's shoulder, but he knew that none of this was good. Not for them. Not for anyone.

"I don't want to do this," Joe said, hand on the door handle. "I won't do this."

Frank sighed, and Joe wished he'd get madder about all this. His brother's ability to be calm about this whole situation was infuriating. Frank just stood back and took all of this, never once letting it get to him, when he should. They had family, they weren't orphans, and their father wasn't dead. He was out there, and they had to find him. And their mom. And their aunt.

"You have to," Frank told him. He leaned over so the social worker couldn't hear him. "If we are going to find Dad, we have to go along with this. We couldn't do much from the group home, but we'll have more flexibility now that we're being placed in homes. We'll be able to talk at school and make plans from there. Go on. It'll be okay."

Joe nodded glumly, giving Frank a final, fierce hug before he got out of the car. He stood, letting the social worker lead him toward the house. Hausler knocked on the door, and a woman with a warm smile opened it. She reminded him a bit of his mother, he thought, feeling sick.

"Joe, this is Mrs. King," Hausler said, making the introduction. "This is Joe Harding."

He frowned as he looked at the social worker. She had his name wrong? No wonder they couldn't find his mom or his aunt. "Um, Mrs. Hausler—"

"Hi, I'm Linda. I'm glad to meet you," Mrs. King said, and Joe smiled back at her, though he wished he could go back to the car and drag Frank up with him. He'd have something to say about the social worker using the wrong name. He'd have to. "Your room will be upstairs on the left, and we'll have dinner in about fifteen minutes. The girls went next door if you want to fetch them after you're done putting your stuff away."

Joe gave her words a nod. "I think there's been a mistake, though. My name isn't—"

"I have to take your brother to where he'll be staying," Mrs. Hausler said. "You go ahead and settle in for the night. You start school tomorrow, so you'll have a busy day."

"But I'm not—" Joe began, only to have Hausler shut the door behind her, leaving him in the house. He sighed. He knew he'd been what Frank called unreasonable when he tried to tell people that his father was alive, but that didn't mean they should ignore him when he tried to talk. He was not being difficult—if Hausler really had the name wrong, then maybe his mother could end all of this so he and Frank could do what they did best. They would find their father.

"I'm sorry. This must be very difficult for you," Linda said. "I am glad you're here. I hope you don't mind too much—I wish we'd had room for more, but with the girls and my bad hip... I'm afraid I may have had an ulterior motive in taking in a teenage boy. There's so much around here I just can't do, and if you're willing to help..."

Joe looked down at her cane, feeling like a jerk. "Uh... Yeah, I can help. Frank would have, too."

She sighed. "My husband was nervous about having a grown boy around our little girls. Two was out of the question. I'm sorry."

Joe supposed he couldn't blame her for that, though he didn't like leaving Frank behind. "I'll go get the girls for you now. Which house is it?"

She pointed to the left, her hand tight on her cane, and he figured she was probably hurting bad right now. He gave her a reassuring smile and headed out. Maybe it wasn't so bad. If he could help out the Kings just by being here, it was almost worth the mix up, though he'd be sure to tell Frank about Hausler's mistake with the name so they could get that fixed right away.

He jogged across the yard and rang the bell. After a minute, it opened to a beautiful blonde. He tried not to stare as he looked at her. "Hi. I'm Joe. Mrs. King sent me over to collect the girls."

"Oh!" She smiled at him. "She kept hoping she'd find someone to help them out, and now you're here. That's so good of you. I've been keeping the girls busy in the afternoons, but I'm afraid I'm not very good at helping them with their homework. They sure look pretty though, don't they?"

She gestured back to the twins, about ten, he thought, with bouncing brown curls and big chocolate eyes. Both of them had been dolled up with bows and makeup, and he figured that was the teen's doing. "I guess it's time for dinner, girls."

They groaned, and Joe wondered if their mom was a bad cook. The twin with the pink barrettes stepped forward, hugging the older girl. "Thank you for playing dress up, Bess."

"Any time," she assured them. "And tomorrow, when Nancy's free, we'll actually get some of your homework done. I promise."

Joe looked at the girls. "You need to grab anything or...?"

"No, we're good," the second twin said. "I just wish I could say the same about Mom's cooking."

Joe groaned. The next few days would be torture.

"This is it, Frank."

He swallowed, looking up at the brick. He didn't think this tenement qualified as a suburb. Joe's house had been in a cookie-cutter cul-de-sac, but he would have said he was in one of the worst neighborhoods in the city. None of this looked right. "I thought Joe and I were going to the same school. This... doesn't look right."

Mrs. Hausler reached to open her door, ignoring the beeping of the car as she got out. "We made sure that it was okay with the district for you to attend out of your residential zone, but we weren't able to place you both in the same neighborhood."

Frank nodded, but he didn't open his door. "I don't think this is—"

"You are a good kid, and they need help," Hausler said, trying to explain, but why Joe was in a four bedroom house in the suburbs and Frank was looking to be knifed before he reached the apartment she was sending him to, he didn't know. Something about this was very wrong. "The Marascos have a small convenience store that's been having a rough time. That's why they asked about an older child when they approached us about fostering someone."

Frank still felt sick as he looked up at the building. "I can understand that. I'm a little concerned about all of this, though. It doesn't feel right."

"Sweetheart, you don't believe your father is dead. None of this will feel right," Hausler said. She came around and opened his door. "Come on. We shouldn't keep them waiting."

Frank followed her to the steps, climbing up them to jump back as the door opened. The man holding it was almost three times Frank's size, almost all of it looking to be muscle. He didn't seem like a shop owner, not when he could crush his inventory in a single fist. A large scar ran across one side of his face, and Frank hoped he wasn't staring because he had a feeling offending this guy would end in a lot of pain.

"I thought you were bringing a girl," Marasco said, and Frank's stomach twisted at that again, not liking the implications of that.

"She was fostered to another home," Hausler told him. "I'm sure Frank can be an asset. He's a smart young man with a good work ethic."

Marasco looked Frank over, and he tried not to fidget under the harsh stare. After a moment, he nodded. "Fine. I can work with this."

"Good," Hausler said, relieved. "Frank starts school in the morning, and if you have any questions, give me a call."

She started to leave, and Frank almost pulled her back. He didn't want to stay here. His instincts were screaming at him to run. He faced Marasco and forced a smile. "What would you like me to do?"

Marasco pointed to the back. "Broom. Sweep. Whole store."

Frank nodded, moving to the back of the store. He had just pushed open the employees only door when he remembered where he'd heard the name Marasco before—in his father's files. The case he'd been investigating before he disappeared.

Marasco was the name of a mob enforcer suspected of at least a dozen murders.