AN1: This story borrows from the Growing Pains and LL verse, but is not really part of it. Call it an AU of the GP-LL-verse.

AN2: The little country in which most of the action takes place is an invention of the various contributing writers. It does not exist as a country; it does not exist as the described geographical landscape. But the country was set in a region that does exist.

AN3 : This story is a 'challenge' and strings together a number of paragraphs from a number of people into hopefully something that makes sense. Thanks Prank for the Heartland Theory, without which there will be no string to tie all the little snippets into a tale.

HEARTLAND

Introduction

-o-

"Who rules East Europe commands the Heartland;

Who rules the Heartla nd commands the World-Island;

Who rules the World-Island controls the world."

-Sir Halford Mackinder (1861-1947)

The above quote was Mackinder's summary of Heartland Theory, as written in his key paper The Geographical Pivot of History, which he presented at the Royal Geographical Society in 1904.

To Mackinder, the Heartland lay at the centre of the world-island, stretching from the Volga to the Yangtze, and from the Himalayas to the Artic. It was the area, which during his time, was ruled by the Russian Empire.

While the Heartland Theory initially received little attention outside of geography, this theory would eventually come to influence the foreign policies of world powers for the next hundred years. And as the Kiswahili saying goes: when elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers.

Bless the grass of Heartland that grew bright and green despite the trampling of elephants.

HEARTLAND

Chapter One

-o-

Whenever Frank Hardy thinks about the last time he saw Joe in person, what comes most vividly to mind was that unwavering love and respect in Joe's eyes and that classy-looking A4-sized leather-bound book that his little brother gifted to him. Etched onto the leather cover in bold golden letters was a single word: Heartland. Frank opened that leather-bound book most reverently. Every page of artwork within that book was painstakingly and lovingly hand-drawn and meticulously water-colored. On the last page was a short note: You are, have been, and will always be the best big brother in the world. Love, Joe.

That last morning, he woke up early and was rushing down for breakfast at 6:15AM. He and Joe would have to leave the house by seven latest if they wanted to make it to Manhattan city on time, and as usual, Joe was still dilly-dallying in his room. Eighteen year old dark haired and dark eyed Frank Hardy headed towards the kitchen, set the kettle boiling and threw several slices of bread into the toaster before heading back to the foot of the stairs.

"Joe! Hurry! We have to be at The Radisson Lexington by half past nine. We don't want to keep Dad waiting!" Frank hollered up the stairs and hoped his brother would be making his way down soon.

Their father, Fenton Hardy, was a well-known private investigator who formerly worked for the NYPD. Fenton Hardy was currently in the middle of a low profile case, and had asked his sons to join him over in Manhattan city. Frank was eager to see what he and Joe could do to help. It had been a while since he and Joe had the opportunity to help in one of their father's cases. A small part of Frank's eagerness faded as he recalled the two big misunderstandings that almost cost Joe his life. But it took something valuable from Joe; those two incidents took his brother's innocence. But Joe recovered and forgave them. Frank marveled at his brother's generosity of spirit. He might not have; not for the magnitude of their sins and the fact it happened twice in a row so close in time to each other. They had agreed to take time off cases for a while to spend some quality family time together. They spent a month in France, where Joe won an all-expense-paid 4-week fellowship to attend the Ecole Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-arts in Paris. In fact, Fenton Hardy just returned to work about a month ago. This was his father's third case, and it sounded like a big one.

There was a soft 'ping' sound. Frank rushed back to the toasts and glared a little mournfully at the blackened toasts that just popped up in the brand new electric toaster that a neighbor gave to Mom for her birthday. He almost burnt his fingers as he moved those toasts onto the cooling rack. He loved his warm toasts, but he kept forgetting how scorching hot newly toasted bread burnt almost to a crisp could be.

For the hundredth time, he wished his mother was home to make breakfast. Unfortunately for them, Laura Hardy was away on a month long holiday cruise with Aunt Gertrude, and the boys were left to fend for themselves at home alone. This was only Day Six, and Frank was already almost tempted to ring his Mom to beg her to come home. His cooking sucked, the kitchen felt greasy, and his laundry stank. And he certainly did not want to know how Joe was coping. Given the sad sight and smell of his own laundry, he was certain the last thing he wanted to know was the state of Joe's laundry. One reason why he did not call his Mom was pride. It was true that his Mom deserved that holiday given how hard she worked to maintain the house and to look after him and Joe. He should not call her for silly and selfish reasons – like charcoaled toasts and stinky laundry. Moreover, he was all of eighteen, and would be starting college this coming autumn. The very last thing he wanted was for Mom to think that he was not ready. It would be far too humiliating if Mom started popping up every weekend to check on his laundry when he moved into his hostel. He was a perfect 4.0 student at Bayport High; he breezed through his homework, he patiently churned through the boring and tedious grunt work for his father, surely he could handle… housework?

Apparently not… Frank sighed heavily.

He watched helplessly as the eggshell fragments dropped down towards the heated fry-pan in slow motion and embedded itself into the egg which was just turning a nice shade of yellow. It seemed he broke the yolk in addition to crushing the shell. And he was supposed to be the meticulous, controlled, and talented big brother? Frank dumped the half yellow half browned contents of the fry-pan into the bin in disgust. The heat from the newly cooked egg and the oil sizzled on the plastic garbage bag and burned right through, landing at the bottom of the bin with a soft 'plop'.

Frank Hardy conceded defeat, and mentally added 'housework expert' to his list of requirements for his future wife. Callie, his current girlfriend, was going to kill him, but he could not care at that moment in time. Someone needs to do the housework, period. He wrapped the hot eggs in a couple disposable kitchen towelettes before chucking it all into another new garbage bag. Then he gave the oily bottom of the bin a quick wipe. They were going to be spending a week in Manhattan, and the last thing he wanted was to leave anything behind that might attract ants. He would never be able to explain to him Mom how he managed to invite an army of ants into their home in her month long absence. Finally, he picked up a spoon and started scrapping away the charred part of the toasts before putting them on two plates for himself and for Joe.

Then the whistling of the boiling kettle got his full attention as he slowly poured the hot water into two mugs that was already pre-filled with cocoa powder. There would be no tiny barely visible steaming hot water droplets landing on his arm today. Frank never realized what an impatient person he could be until he started learning about making coffee. And after his disastrous attempt with filtered coffee the last two days, Frank wisely figured he'd be better off with hot chocolate. Soon, a light aromatic cocoa scent filled the kitchen, slightly masking the charred smell of the still warm toasts.

And his one year younger blond headed blue-eyed brother came trotting down the stairs just on time to eat. Frank could have sworn his little brother had inbuilt radars where food was concerned.

"Thanks for making breakfast, bro," Joe greeted as he threw his packed duffel bag next to Frank's and sniffed the air. "Did I smell fried eggs?" Joe asked as he craned his neck searching for those elusive eggs. His eyes finally landed on the bin and… Joe picked up the peanut butter jar and started slathering a thick layer of peanut butter jam over his unevenly shaped toast before shoving the entire slice into his mouth.

Frank turned a bright red before reaching for the misshapen toasts on his plate. He was immensely relieved that Joe simply sat down and ate all his miserable cooking the last few days without making any wisecrack comments. He was not certain if his ego could have taken it. Suddenly, a sense of helpless anger washed through him. He pushed his plate away and stood up so quickly, and Joe looked up at him, surprise clearly written across his features.

"Let's head out for breakfast!" Frank blurted out before Joe could make any remarks. "My treat!"

"Thanks for just eating everything I cooked in the last few days, Joe," Frank continued in a self-conscious tone when Joe simply looked at him curiously. "But I think its time we get a proper and well cooked meal." Then he added with a wan smile. "I think I just have to admit that I have no talent for cooking…"

Joe took a quick glance about the kitchen before asking to his brother. "Would you like your eggs sunny side up or scrambled?"

"Huh… sunny side up?" Frank responded warily as he watched his little brother moved swiftly but confidently from the dining table to the cooking area.

Joe grinned as he removed the unwashed fry-pan from the sink and gave it a quick wipe with a sheet of disposable kitchen towelette before placing it back on the stove and turning on the fire. While waiting for the oil to heat up, he removed four eggs and some bacon from the fridge. Then he cracked the eggs over the fry-pan two at a time, then using the spatula to move to cooking eggs to one side, he added several strips of bacon to the fry-pan. Four more pieces of bread went into the toaster after Joe made some adjustments to it. Three minutes later, Joe served two plates of steaming hot breakfasts while Frank stared at him open-mouthed.

"I didn't know you can cook?!" Frank commented almost accusingly.

"A disciple, according to the ancient traditions, handles all the household chores for his Master," Joe answered with a careless shrug. "Pan Shifu didn't insist but I offered. He accepted me as his LuMenDiZi, and I wanted to be a good disciple. So I went all the way. I learned to cook then…"

"Then why did you just kept quiet and eat all those stuff…" Frank turned red again from embarrassment.

"Because you seemed so determined to do everything, and you put so much effort into it," Joe responded with a little smile as he remembered his similar experiences. His eyes darkened as he recalled those dark times, when his confidence was at rock bottom, and when he was so desperate to do something well, to be loved and appreciated if not for succeeding, then at least for trying. "Pan Shifu ate all my horrible cooking those first few days too without a single word of complaint. And Frank, I really appreciate all your efforts, big brother."

"Well… Mom did say to take care of you…" Frank mumbled, feeling more than a little silly. "And I am the big brother here…"

"I didn't know that cooking is a pre-requisite for being a big brother," Joe teased.

"But taking care of my little brother is," Frank murmured sadly in a serious tone and under his breath. "And God knows I haven't been doing a good job lately…"

Joe missed most of Frank's words, but knew his big brother was again remembering the events of the last nine months.

"Hey, big brothers are humans too. They can't do everything! That'll be just too darn scary!" Joe said in a half joking tone, but his eyes remained focus on his brother, his expression serious. He meant what he said. Having a paragon for a brother, or father or mother or girlfriend for the matter, was scary. He knew that better than anyone in his family, after all, he almost killed himself once trying to live up to the high standards that he perceived was set by his brother.

When Frank did not react, he put down his fork and knife, pushed back his half eaten breakfast, and stood up. There was something he meant to do after breakfast, but now seemed like the perfect time.

"Hey bro… do you mind coming up to my room for a second? There's something I need to show you."

It was that something in Joe's voice that got his attention. "Sure!" Frank answered as he got up and followed Joe back up the stairs.

Frank smiled at the sight of Joe's room. At first glance, it looked reasonably neat. Joe had recently mastered the 'Art of Appearances', as Mr. Pan puts it. A closer examination of Joe's room would reveal a mass of irregular shapes under Joe's bed. What appeared to be a neatly stacked pile of books on Joe's study table was actually a pile of books hastily stacked one on top of the other in no particular order. There was a big plastic container under Joe's chair – that was where he simply dumped all the odds and ends into it before Mom or Aunt Gertrude walked into the room. Finally, there was this suspiciously shaped lump under the blankets at the foot-end of the bed. Otherwise, Joe's room looked as spic and span as can be, Frank observed with a chuckle. He leaned against the door and waited patiently as Joe rummaged through his wardrobe and finally emerged with something in his arm.

"Here," Joe handed him an A4-sized leather bound book.

Frank could see that it was a costly gift. Costly not in monetary terms but in the time and efforts invested in it. Etched onto the soft dark leather cover in bold gold letters was the word 'Heartland'. He opened the leather-bound book most carefully and reverently, taking his time to appreciate the hand-drawn artwork on every page. His brother's sweat and efforts was there in every stroke of the pen, and every splash of color. And on the very last page of that book was a short note: You are, have been, and will always be the best big brother in the world. Love, Joe.

"I wanted to give this to you last week during your graduation, but couldn't get it done on time," Joe admitted shyly. "It's my first comic strip – to be published by Dark Horse Comics. This is the only hand-drawn copy in the world, for my big brother, and the best big brother anyone could ask for. I hope you like it."

"Like it?" Frank repeat in wonderment. "Of course I like it! How could you even think otherwise? This is fantastic! And Dark Horse Comics! The third largest comic publisher worldwide! This is great! Congratulations, Joe!"

He meant every word. Dark Horse Comics was one of the largest comic publishers in the business and was known for works such as Sin City, Akira, Hellboy and 300.

"I haven't told Mom and Dad yet," Joe confessed. "I wanted you to be the first to know. I'll tell them together after Mom return from her cruise."

Frank nodded. This was Joe's achievement and Joe's moment of glory. He could keep it a secret until then. Again his fingers traced Joe's note at the end of the book. He could not believe after all that happened Joe still held him in such high esteem.

"Frank?"

He looked up and found himself staring straight into Joe's eyes. In that short instant, he saw what Joe wanted him to see; that rock-steady and unwavering love and respect and belief that the kid brother always had for the big brother. There were moments in the last few months that he had thought he lost that. There were hours he spent brooding in his room, wondering if he could ever earn that back and plotting in his mind how he could do it. There were times when he thought that Joe finally outgrew his boyish hero-worship, and that he would never have it back. And there were moments when he admitted to the deepest part of his soul that he really did not deserve it – not after the number of times he failed his brother…

"I know that I have not been the best little brother in the world," Joe started his little speech without losing his eye contact with Frank. "But I know that matters not to you. It was in every action you took for me, in every thing that you did for me. All those times that you bail me out of trouble, when you rescued me from the consequences of my impulsiveness, when you tried to explain to Mom and Dad what happened without making me looked bad. I know, from all that, that you loved me for who I am, and despite of what I did."

Frank wanted to cut in and deny all that. Joe was too generous as usual. The truth was he let his little brother down. The family let Joe down because they did not truly understand him for what he was simply because Joe was different. His thought processes work differently from the rest of them. He was not as logical, and he was not as scientifically inclined. So they did not truly treasure who they had until it was almost too late…

"Frank."

Joe's firm voice jerked him back into current awareness, and again he found his eyes locked with his brother's deep blue ones. And Joe continued firmly, his voice deep and laden with heartfelt emotions.

"I want you to know that you always came through for me. You have always come through for me, even if it might take a while at times, but at the end of the day, you never let me down. I know that I can always depend on you no matter what. And there is no one in this world I love or trust more than you, big brother. You're really the best!"

It was then that Frank realized that the light that shone from Joe's eyes was no longer that same old boyish hero-worship. It was something else, and something more. Frank knew at that moment his little brother had really outgrown that 'hero-worship'. But that realization did not fill him with despair as he feared. That was because Joe showed him through actions and deeds, that he loved him, and respected him, and admired him for who he was over the last few months. A big brother who kept the bullies away at school, a brilliant student whom he could turn to for tutoring, the best friend whom he turned to for advice, a confidante with whom he shared his deepest concerns, and finally the partner he could depend on in their sleuthing adventures. And this was so much better than boyish hero-worship, because this was the real thing. He need never fear losing his brother's love and respect, because this love and respect included all his flaws and faults, warts and all. This was, Frank knew, so much more infinitely valuable.

His eyes burned.

"Thank you," he said.

What else could he say? At that moment, Frank promised that he would make sure that Joe's faith in him was not misplaced. He swore never to let his brother down again, that the events of the last nine months would never be repeated again, ever. He learned his lessons well.

"You're welcome," Joe replied softly.

"And you're wrong. You're the best little brother in the world, and I wouldn't trade you for anything or anyone else," Frank declared, only to find that little lump in his throat suddenly too big for him to continue. But he would, later, he promised his brother with his eyes.

It was an action that he would later come to regret.

Joe ducked his head, suddenly shy.

And in the sacred silence that follows, Frank carefully rewrapped his priceless graduation gift in the soft tissues and replaced it in the box from whence it came. Then he held that box gently and firmly in his hands, relishing in its comforting weight.

Joe coughed a little uncomfortably. "I think we're going to be late…"

Frank's eyes flew to the clock on his brother's table. Drats! It was fifteen past seven already! He quickly went back to his room, opened the little cabinet within which he kept his most treasured belongs, and carefully lowered Joe's priceless gift into it.

"Hrmmm… Frank? Since I cooked breakfast, can you do the dishes? I still need to hang up my laundry…"

Joe's voice came floating though Frank's half opened door.

"Sure, and hurry!" Frank yelled after Joe's retreating form as he rushed back down towards the kitchen.

"And you'll tell Dad we're late because you burnt breakfast, right?"

Frank could almost see that same old charming wicked grin on Joe's face. He smiled despite knowing that he was being taken advantage of… again. His little brother had not done that to him for a while. Some might thought him crazy, but he missed those moments. It was part of their closeness, that silly bantering between them, him indulging in his brother, and Joe letting him. Joe letting him… Frank now knew with utter certainty. And Joe had not… not since… Frank shoved those remembrances aside. They were okay now, and he would make sure it stayed that way.

"Don't push your luck, little brother!" Frank's exasperated tone was at odds with that wide smile on his face.

"Do that, Frank, and I'll make sure this batch of laundry of yours don't stink," Joe yelled back. This time Frank could certainly see that wicked grin in his mind.

"You mean you knew why my laundry stinks and you didn't tell me??" Frank almost screeched back at his little brother. He did not. That would have been too undignified. But how he hated that horrible musty smell on his clothes when he wore them!

"Well, you never asked…"

The tone was hesitant. Frank halted his actions. It was clear to him that Joe still had issues regarding his self-worth before his family members despite everything he had achieved. And that was in part his doing, and Mom's and Dad's doing. He sighed. They needed to talk. No, they needed to act. And he would start here.

"Why do my clothes stink?" he asked conversationally as he dried the plates and pan and placed them back onto the shelves.

"Because they aren't dry, big brother," Joe answered. "It's the stink of damp clothes."

"They are dry! I do check before packing them into my cupboard!" Frank insisted. Of course he made sure his clothes were dry before keeping them!

"Well… Frank…" Joe drawled. "There are dry, and there are dry."

Frank growled in frustration. Joe as usual made no sense. But if his brother's clothes did not stink, then…

"I'll show you when we get back from Manhattan, Frank. We better hurry now. I'll check the upstairs…" Joe hollered just before heading back up the stairs.

"I'll cover downstairs," Frank returned. "And Joe?"

"Yes Frank?"

"Next time… if I'm doing things wrong and acting like an ass pretending that everything is going well… just give me a whack on the head… okay?"

"If you insist, big brother!"

Frank eyes narrowed at that absolutely wicked looking smile on Joe's face, and suddenly wondered if it was too late for him to take back those words. Then it was too late as Joe disappeared up the stairs.

Five minutes later, after making sure that all the windows were properly closed and locked, and all unnecessary electrical appliances were switched off, they turned on the burglar alarm, locked the doors, before getting into their van and driving off.

Unfortunately, they never got to Manhattan. They never even left Bayport.

They were cruising along Veterans Memorial Drive, happily discussing what kind of assistance their father might require of them. Soon the residential area gave way to Connetquot River State Park, and the brothers halted their discussion for a moment to enjoy the sight of the trees and bushes that lined both sides of the road. Suddenly, a dark colored SUV that was behind them sped up, made to overtake them, but instead rammed them from the side. Frank instinctively swerved, sending the van off the road and down the slope, crash landing amidst several meter high bushes.

The time was 8:10AM on a Saturday morning. It was still early, and there was nary a car in sight to witness that planned accident.

Three masked men emerged from the SUV and made their way down to the wrecked van. They were professionals and knew what they were doing. In minutes, they had the brothers hauled out of the van and nicely tied up and gagged on the ground before they fully recovered from the impact of their 'accident'.

Frank and Joe stopped struggling with their bonds the moment the tallest of the masked men pointed a gun at them and told them in no uncertain terms to keep still. They glared at the three men towering over them and waited with pounding hearts.

"Which one are we taking?" a deep and husky voice asked.

"I have a preference for blondes," another raspy voice stated.

"Blonde it is then," the tall guy who was also obviously the leader agreed. "Put him to sleep. No one would wonder about a sleeping boy in the back seat."

Frank Hardy watched helplessly as the guy with the deep husky voice took out a syringe and plunged it into Joe's arm. There was nothing he could do with his arms and legs tied up and a gun to his head. So he locked eyes with Joe and tried to assure his brother that everything would be fine, that he and Dad would find him and get him back from the kidnappers. And Joe blinked in response, telling Frank he understood. But Frank continued keeping that eye contact until his brother's eyelids started to droop, and was soon fully closed. The moment Joe's body went limp the other two started to undo Joe's bindings and gag.

The tall leader bent down, stared Frank in the eye, and spoke in a clear firm voice.

"Tell your father that if he stays off this case, he'll get his little boy back in two week's time. Otherwise…" leaving that threat hanging, the leader stood up. "And Rocky here like he said, does have a preference for blondes," he added before heading back to his SUV, signaling his men to follow with his little brother.

Frank struggled with his bonds and kept his eyes on his unconscious brother all the way till Joe dropped out of sight. He noted with a sinking heart that the men ignored the SUV. They must have another car waiting, which meant that there was a fourth person, Frank guessed. Then he heard several car doors slammed shut followed by the sounds of an engine fading away.

That was the last Frank saw of his little brother.

But that was not the reason why he lost Joe. It was a series of deliberate choices that he and Dad made later that sealed Joe's fate. They had been overly confident of their own abilities, and his little brother paid the price for their pride.

If he could ever turn back the clock, he would never have made those choices. He would be the selfish bastard that let the world burns as long as he could have his brother with him… he would… he would…

Perhaps…

But Joe was not dead. His little brother was just… lost. And he would find him, no matter the time, and no matter the cost.

He promised he would never let his brother down again. And Joe would be depending on him…

'You have always come through for me, even if it might take a while at times, but at the end of the day, you never let me down. I know that I can always depend on you no matter what…' Joe said.

"It might take a while, brother, but I'll find you," Frank swore. "I'll always find you…"