This takes place after Iola's death and before Vanessa arrives in the endless space-time continuum that is the Hardys' senior year.
Warnings: Swearing and heavily implied sex. FrankNancy JoeCallie
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Broken Trust
Chapter 1
"Score one for the good guys!" exulted Joe Hardy, slapping his brother on the back as the two young men clattered down the steps of Bayport police station.
Frank Hardy shrugged off his hand and stalked across the street to their van. Joe sighed.
"So, dinner," he said, remaining determinedly cheerful. He checked his watch. "Mr Pizza will be shut by now but Mom left us plenty of stuff in the freezer. What do you say to lasagne?"
Frank stopped abruptly, forcing Joe jump backwards to avoid running into him.
"Frank?"
"Do not talk to me."
"Huh?"
"Unless you fancy walking, you will keep your big mouth shut until we get home."
"Yes, oh master," said Joe sarcastically.
"Zip it."
"Fine."
They rode home in silence.
-
Frank pulled up onto the driveway, put the handbrake on and turned off the ignition. He slumped forwards, resting his head against the steering wheel. It sounded as if he was counting to ten under his breath. Joe stared sulkily out into the darkness, avoiding looking at his brother.
Finally Frank straightened up.
"So are you going to get out the van?"
"Oh? I can talk now, can I?
"Do not push me, Joe." Frank got out the van and walked towards the house. He still wasn't looking at his brother. Joe followed him meekly through the front door but grabbed his arm before Frank could disappear upstairs.
"Look Frank, we've had a long day. I'm tired, hungry and wired after too much bad coffee from the station. I'm sure you're not feeling your best either. How about we put some lasagne to cook in oven, have showers, eat dinner and then go to bed? We'll feel about a hundred percent better tomorrow and you can yell at me all you want. I really don't think I can take it tonight."
Joe knew his last words were a mistake even as they spilled out of his mouth. Frank's face, which had been softening, tightened into an angry mask.
"You can't take it! The only reason I'm in this state is because I had to drag you out of a burning warehouse. Because you had the stupid idea to check it out on your own."
"You told me 'Interstate Removals' had nothing do with the case, therefore I should have been perfectly safe."
"Yet you clearly thought it had something do with the case, or you'd never have gone there after hours."
"I told you it was strange Mike worked as a driver for an Interstate removal company but was never away from home over night. I just went to have a look around."
"And stumbled into the largest drug deal in Bayport's history. And took on the armed dealers on your own. Completely ignoring me when I told you to stay put."
"I didn't have any choice."
"There's always a choice. For my sake Joe, would you once, just once, consider the consequences before you act?"
"It all worked out in the end, didn't it?" Joe glowered at his brother with sullen defiance. He could see Frank clenching his fists and loosing all patience but he didn't care.
"That is not the point." Frank looked down his nose at Joe, doing a disturbingly good imitation of their father at his most superior. Joe gave up trying to be sympathetic.
"I'm sorry, okay?" he shouted. "I'm sorry I couldn't stand by and watch them torture the poor guy. I'm sorry I couldn't take on four thugs at once. I'm sorry the police seized a record haul of drugs. I'm sorry they've decided to reopen the inquiry into Mike's death. I'm sorry I survived."
"Shut up!" shrieked Frank, driven beyond screaming point. He swung at Joe. Joe dodged to one side, catching Frank's arm and forcing it down. His own anger had faded as Frank's exploded, so he was able to speak calmly.
"Look, Frank, big brother, I truly am sorry I worried you. But we saved a guy's life and convinced the police Mike was murdered. Everything's cool."
"It is not cool. It will never be cool until you get rid of your reckless disregard for the consequences."
"I did the best…"
"Shut up! I don't care about your stupid excuses. All I care about is never getting another phone call that starts, 'Frank, I'm in trouble.' I am sick and tired of pulling you out of holes you've dug for yourself. Is that understood?"
"Frank," Joe held out one hand in appeal.
"Shut up. The only words I want to hear you say are, 'Yes, I understand.'"
"Yes I understand, but Frank…"
"No, no buts, no ifs, no ands, no ors. You understand?"
"Yes," hissed Joe, tone edging into exasperation.
"Good. Now I am getting out of Bayport before I have to start thinking up ways to explain your sudden murder to Mom and Dad. Mind you, I think Dad would understand."
Joe drew back hurt, it was against the rules to bring Dad into their arguments.
"Don't give me that look. If we told him what you did, you be grounded until next year. Well I might not be able to ground you but I can sure as hell get out of town. I'm going to River Heights to see Nancy. She emailed me yesterday for advice on her current case. Don't expect me back before Mom and Dad. And do not call on me to bail you out of your own irresponsibility. Understood?"
"Fine," Joe shouted, slamming out of the house.
"Good," Frank yelled back, slamming through the house to his bedroom.
-
Frank packed with a vicious swiftness. If he were still there when Joe got back, he'd give into temptation and try and shake some sense into his baby brother. He couldn't believe Joe had been so stupid. Hs heart had nearly stopped when he saw the warehouse explode with flames
He closed his eyes, trying to block out the sight. If he had been five minutes later Joe would have died. He had to get Joe to stop relying on him to turn up in the nick of time. He couldn't take the pressure anymore.
Even more determined to get away for at least a fortnight, Frank packed a second bag of books and CDs. Firing up his laptop, he sent a quick email to Nancy to let her know he'd arrive the next day, and then packed that too. Then he slung his backpack over his shoulder, grabbed his bags and hurried downstairs.
He contemplated calling a taxi but changed his mind. He might not be able to ground Joe, but he could leave him with out transportation. With a malicious smirk, he grabbed the van's keys.
-
Joe doubled over, panting for breath. His furious sprint had run all the anger out of him. Straightening up he forced himself to move in order to stop his muscles stiffening up. Slowly running through a series of stretches he admitted he could see Frank's point of view. The case had come very close to killing Joe.
"I still don't see what alternative I had though. I mean sure, if I had Frank's genius maybe I could have come up with something better. But given I'm a bear of very little brain, it was the only plan I could think of."
Joe shrugged his shoulders. He tried not to take Frank's occasional blow-ups personally. His private opinion was they were his brother's way of dealing with stress of the case.
"Just wish he'd take it out on the criminals instead of me. Still I better get back. I don't want him jetting off to River Heights still mad with me. And he'll need a lift to the airport."
He jogged back towards the house.
-
Joe was surprised to see the van was missing. He dashed into the house, calling for Frank. Reaching Frank's bedroom, he stopped, stunned.
Frank's room looked ransacked. Clothes were piled up on the bed and two abandoned suitcases stood off to one side. The drawers Frank kept his CDs in stood open and half empty. Hastily, he searched through the books cluttered across the floor. Frank obviously planned to be gone for sometime.
Running downstairs, he checked the message board. Pinned on top was a short angry note.
'Left for Nancy's. Don't call. Frank.'
"Damnit Frank."
Somewhere Frank must be calming down because Joe was suddenly burning furious.
He stormed down to the punching bag hung up in the basement. Not bothering with gloves, he started punching. Picturing Frank's face on the canvas, he imagined he was thumping his overbearing, perfect, know-it-all brother.
Finally too tired to lift his arms, he collapsed on the mat, chest heaving. He was still angry with Frank but was too exhausted to really feel it. In it's place came hurt. He couldn't believe his brother had taken the van and left without saying goodbye.
As he slowly recovered his breath, Joe ran through the scenario at the warehouse yet again. He still couldn't see any better way of handling the situation. He lay there running through the possibilities until he realised he was shivering in his sweat-soaked clothes. Peeling himself off the floor, he staggered upstairs for a glass of water and then took a shower.
Clean and dressed in comfy sweats and thick socks, he felt marginally more human. His stomach growled and he remembered he hadn't eaten anything since lunchtime. Heating a can of tomato soup, he hunted out some bread rolls from the freezer and nuked them. Whenever his mother left on a trip with his father, she always left lots of ready prepared dinner in the freezer but somehow he and Frank never ended up eating them.
Thinking about his brother aggravated him so he resolutely blanked his mind. Pouring the soup into a mug, he grabbed the rolls and retreated to the TV room. Aimlessly flicking through the channels he sipped at his soup.
His resentment had faded completely by the time the house phone rang. Joe raced across the room and eagerly seized the phone, hoping it was Frank.
"Hello, is that you Frank?"
"This is your wife," said a tearful lady, "Oh darling I'm so pleased to hear your voice."
"I'm sorry, do you have the right number," said Joe. He didn't know what she was talking bout or why she sounded sort of familiar.
"It's so dreadful. I don't know what to do." Her voice trembled and broke. Joe could hear her swallowing her sobs.
"It's okay," he said quickly, her identity becoming of secondary importance. "Don't worry; I'll help you sort things out. Just tell me what the matter is and we'll go from there."