Helllooooooooo! I am back! (ominous music) (thunder crashes)

Two-shots rule guys! So I intend for this to be a two-shot. Could evolve into more though. Anything left unsettled by the end of this shall probably be resolved in yet another two-shot... ;)

Please review! Reviews are life to my body!

Sorry for the Joe angst that you find in every other fic, but it was inevitable. (:

I don't have a skull. Or bones.

I also don't own Nancy Drew or The Hardy Boys.


The lights of the city illuminated Frank Hardy's face as he stared out the window. Cars honked distantly every once in awhile. Well, at least he knew there were other people awake at 3:00 am.

He'd been trying to sleep on the couch, but it was no use. Even without the dreams that plagued him, the couch might as well be hewn out of rock. Turning around, he walked back across the dark room.

Earlier in the day it had been easier to be happy. He, Bess and George had alternated between the two rooms, talking, hanging out and laughing with Nancy and Joe while Nancy recovered from her burns and Joe waited for the final diagnosis on his leg.

But now, with everyone fast asleep, he was without comfort.

Frank sighed deeply as he watched Joe sleeping peacefully in the hospital bed. Wonder what he's dreaming of? Then he shuddered. What they'd been through during the last few days was a nightmare in itself.

Sitting down in a light blue armchair by Joe's IV stand, Frank let his head drop into his hands. Every time he closed his eyes, the same scene replayed itself.

Frank looked around wildly. Falling rocks, large stones crashing and rolling all around them… Dust…

He heard Joe cry out sharply, and faintly heard Nancy scream at the same time. What happened? Where were they? "Nancy? Joe?" he yelled, his voice raw. Fear made his stomach tight.

Finally everything settled. He could feel his pulse racing.

Frank stared in shock at the debris around him. How could they have survived?

"Frank!" he heard a muffled cry.

"Nancy!" Frank's heart beat wildly as he ran over to a large uneven boulder.

"Under here!"

"Joe?!"

They were both trapped underneath the same boulder.

"Okay guys, stay calm. I'm going to try to shift this rock," Frank shouted. He braced his shoulder up against the rough stone and pushed steadily. The boulder was uneven, and tilted slowly away from him.

"Aaah!"

Frank stopped immediately at Joe's voice. "What is it?"

"It's pinning down my leg! Any farther and it'll break!"

"Alright," Frank panted, "I'll try the other way." He didn't get very far before he heard Nancy scream.

"Nancy, what's wrong?" he called.

"It's pressing down – on my chest – I can't breathe!" her voice sounded breathy and panicked.

His thoughts spinning wildly, Frank eased the weight back to the middle. He couldn't free either one of them. And the boulder wouldn't tip sideways, and he couldn't lift it… What could he do?

"Frank, just do it," Joe said urgently.

"What?!"

"Push the boulder onto my leg. It's the only way."

"I can't do that to you!"

"You can let both of us die, you can kill Nancy, or you can let my leg break. Your choice." Joe said flatly.

Reluctantly, Frank acknowledged his little brother's point. "How come you have to make sense every once in a while?"

"It's my job. Now hurry!" Joe pleaded.

"Isn't there anything else we can do?" Nancy's voice came.

"No, Nancy. It'll be okay," Joe called back.

"Ready?" Frank's hands shook a little bit as he touched the boulder. He could hardly bear to even think of hurting Joe.

"Ready."

"I'm sorry," Frank whispered as he braced his body against the rock. Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes, clenched his teeth, and shoved.

The boulder rocked away from him, and Joe's agonized scream burst from beneath.

A shaky sigh escaped from his lips. If he was being honest, doing that to Joe had probably hurt himself more than his little brother.

No, he wasn't blaming himself much – there was nothing else he could've done – and Frank wasn't one to deny the logic of their solution. But feelings overrode his logic sometimes, fantasizing that if he'd tried hard enough, maybe he would've been able to save his baby brother from harm.

"Good thing you can't read my thoughts," Frank said softly, even though he knew Joe couldn't hear him. "You'd tell me to shut up, stop being stupid, and quit thinking of you as my baby brother. Well, Joey, we may both be teenagers, but you'll always be the little kid." He gave a small chuckle, remembering how Joe had "found" him and Nancy when they were being taken captive by the horse fighting gang.

"Doctor Matthews just talked to me, since you were asleep." George said. " It's about Joe."

Joe? Was something wrong?

His heart clenching in fear, Frank sat up. "What did he say?"

George swallowed hard, crystal tears welling up in her eyes. She seemed to be trying to find the right words to say.

Frank's heart pounded rapidly. Something was very wrong. "George."

Nancy's friend sighed shakily and sat down on the bed. "Frank… Joe's leg is worse than any of us thought. It's been damaged so badly that – that…"

He grabbed both of George's hands, staring at her. He couldn't breathe. Her gaze slid away from his.

"Frank, they want to amputate it."

Heaving another sigh, Frank placed his hand on the bedsheets next to Joe's shoulder, almost touching, but not wanting to wake him up.

"This sucks, little brother," Frank whispered. "You're seventeen. We're both not even close to adults. You're not out of high school yet. You've got your whole life to live – without your right leg below the knee?"

He closed his eyes again, against his better judgment. All of the times Joe had lay nearly dead in a hospital, the times Joe had been tortured rather than betray his brother, the kidnappings, the bombs, flew through Frank's mind like in a horrifying slideshow.

An image of a laughing sixteen-year-old with dark hair, hugging Joe tight. Iola.

With a strangled sob, Frank forced his eyes open again before the next image could come, the one he knew so well.

Joe at the scene of the car bomb, the flames high in the air, and even though he was alive, looking like the life had been sucked out of his very bones.

"You, have been through, so, much." Frank murmured, emphasizing each part of the sentence. "So much more than any guy your age should have by now, or within their lifetime. More than me. Why is it always you that has to take all the crud that's thrown our way? And sometimes, it is my fault."

The heart monitor beeped steadily. Joe squirmed a little. Frank knew that his little brother was a "tosser" and turned over frequently in his sleep, but he couldn't due to the padded restraints strapping him onto the bed during each night so that he wouldn't further injure his leg by accident.

And Frank? The brunette, computer-savvy teen huffed bitterly. All he'd gotten were some cuts, standard dehydration, and a slight concussion. As it was, while Nancy and Joe were waiting for Frank to get help, Joe nearly died of fever from the infected wound of the main compound fracture in his leg.

"I get off almost untouched, and you get all the pain, nearly every. Single. Time. It's not fair!" Frank choked, his eyes filling with tears.

But there was no answer in the dark room, and Frank continued listening to the heart monitor until he fell into a fitful sleep.


Poor Frank! Poor Joe! Poor readers! Which means, most likely, poor me... (steps discreetly out of reach of various objects being hurled my direction)