Hello! I'm back! And I offer you all the final piece of Part I of the Assassin plot that I'm dragging the boys through. (The first two parts are Guardian Stalker and Shattering the Broken, if anyone would like to know/remember.) And I think the first thing I must say is... More torturing Fenton time! And also a lot of confusing understandings due to Fenton being sick. All I will say is that dreams and reality should never go in a blender, and the product fed to a sick person.
The chapter's short, but it pretty much is the intro to Fenton's personal hell. So step on up, boys and girls. It's time to begin the ride.
I do not own the Hardy Boys. However, I do possess a ton of their books... it's not the same, though. *sighs*
Enjoy!
"Sickness comes from the mind sometimes," Jackie stated simply, stirring the soup slowly without much attention. "Of course, extra strain on the body doesn't help the case much, either."
Laura stared at the papers on the table, silently spreading them out as she saw fit. Her eyes seemed to be stained with tears, although they were actually dry.
"You know that he's the reason why both of your sons got the fate that they have. Life is a fickle sometimes."
"You've… why do you talk like that?" It was the first time Laura had spoken that day.
The stirring continued, even though the pace slowed down a bit.
The teenager took in a deep breath, and let it out with a sigh. "Have you ever had a dream broken?"
When Laura didn't answer, Jackie continued.
"This is the second time that any real dream that I longed for was shattered. I always believed that I would end up like this, but now… Now is the time where I have no grasp of the world anymore."
"We've all entertained thoughts of death. It's my turn now." With that, Jackie poured a few ladles into the bowl waiting on the counter, before taking the bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. She left the kitchen for the staircase, ignoring the set of blue eyes that were torn from the paper to watch her.
"What fools this world has created. We all believe, and we all break what we believe in. Is it so hard to see why suicides happen?" she asked herself. Her thoughts paused as she reached the closed door.
"What has happened to us all, anyways?"
Carefully placing the spoon within the soup o that it would not fall into the soup or the ground, Jackie opened the door. There, lying within the tangled sheets suffering from his sickness, Fenton Hardy rested.
"A man like you had so much and lost it all," she muttered, knowing that no one was actually listening. "You gave it all to your career without realizing it, and hurt your sons in the process."
Silently, she walked over and laid the bowl on the night table before turning her attention to the sleeping figure. "Joe told me that you were a father to him for all of a week. Joe is fifteen and Frank is sixteen. Don't you realize how small a week is compared to those years?"
"And then you saw them as failures for messing up one mission. One among their many. You drove Frank to commit suicide, and it was Joe who fixed that blunder. And then Assassin Agents came along, and you thought that your sons were trying to ruin your life."
"Let me tell you something, Fenton Hardy. Killers or not, everyone has reasons and everyone isn't perfect. Frank thought that you would either notice him or it would finally push you out of his life. He dragged Joe in, and now you lost them both."
"What kind of man are you?"
As she left the room, Fenton slowly opened both of his eyes, his brain still trying to drink in every single word that she spoke. Somehow he knew that those worlds would haunt him.
"Daddy?" The voice was high pitch and full of innocence, which made the man wonder for a moment why the voice seemed new and yet so familiar.
"Stop it!"
"But he promised-"
"Dad promises lots of things! But he's important-"
"But he's our dad!"
Fenton wanted to open his eyes and find out what sight would greet him, but they refused his brain's command.
"But he has work!"
"I hates it when he works! He never has time to play!"
"I hates it too."
The voices silent themselves for a moment, seeming to contemplate their current predicament. As the seconds passed by with the grace of syrup, Fenton could feel more questions surface within his head. Why did the voices sound like something he heard long ago? And what were they doing here, in the bedroom?
Another voice entered the conversation, this one distant and full of life. "Boys! Stop bothering your father and come down here!"
"We're not-"
"Coming, Mom!" the other voice interjected, before whispering, "Come on Joe! We should listen to Mom!"
"But… okay…" There was a sigh of defeat. "Do you think Mom has snacks, Frank?"
The light patter of feet on the floor filled the room, just as Fenton won the struggle to open his eyes. The light stung as if hoping to break Fenton's will. But the man continued, and his eyes fully widened when he realized what was in front of him.
The retreating figures of his two sons, both reduced to young boys barely even ready for any kind of schooling, walking towards the door broke his heart. The reminder of the beginning was also a reminder of the end.
As he closed his eyes, a different voice filled his head. It belonged to Frank, the one that had recently taken his own life in a huge fireball. Another one chimed in, that of his other son who had willingly let Frank take his life for reasons still lost on the PI.
"Dreams are killers themselves, don't you think?"
"You're forgetting that ideas are too. After all, that's all we've been chasing in life."
Jackie has pretty much adopted the role as wise ass in that higher up sort of way. She has lost part of the will to live, after all. Laura's taking it pretty hard too. And as for Fenton... it's only the beginning...
