Frank and Callie were only 18, and maybe that was the beauty of it. They still had the taste of youth in their mouths, but they were sure of themselves, sure of each other. They had been through so much, and they were finally free to run off together.

That's exactly what they did. It was Callie's 18th birthday party, and Frank had celebrated his own birthday a little while before. They talked and laughed with her parents and their friends, and at the end of the night they hopped in his car and sped away down the road. They said they just wanted a vacation, to celebrate their graduation and their adulthood.

But Frank had other things in mind.

It was sunrise, and they had been walking on the beach, when Frank proposed. It was sunset when they made it to Vegas, and he kissed his bride at the stroke of midnight. They slept for a day, and when they awoke they headed back down the road. They didn't know where they were going, or what they were doing. All they knew was that Frank's car had a full tank of gas and Callie's birthday money could pay for three fill-ups.

They never settled down, really. They slept in the car and used the laundromat to wash their clothes and did odd jobs wherever they could to pay for meals. But they were happy, and that's all either of them cared about.

It was Frank's twenty-second birthday when he got the call.

Callie always liked Colorado, so they settled near the mountains and bought their first home. Frank hooked up the phone line and Callie mapped out the best way to get to the library and they laughed at the silly way the birds would wait until the last moment to dodge cars, and the phone rang the moment he plugged in the cord. Frank picked it up, laughter still on his tongue and the taste of Callie still in his mouth.

"This is Frank Shaw-Hardy, how can I help you?"

"Frank? Frank, it's Joe." The voice on the other end was urgent, and the laughter died on Frank's lips.

"Joey? What's going on? How did you get this number? We didn't even know we had it yet."

"That's not important. Frank, I'm in trouble. I did some bad stuff and now someone's gonna kill me, and I don't know how to fix it. I don't know what to do. I need your help, Frank." Joe's voice was strained, and Frank's grip on the phone tightened.

"Slow down, Joey. Breathe. What bad stuff did you do? What kind of trouble are we talking about here?" Frank searched around for a pen and paper, or something to write down details about what was happening.

"I got sick, and I couldn't afford to pay off the debt to the hospital, and they were gonna take mom and dad's house, and I couldn't let them find out. So I found a guy who was willing to loan me enough to pay off the doctors and his payments were cheaper than the ones from the hospital, so I said yes, and I paid off the doctors. But the guy, he wasn't like the hospital. I missed one of his payments and one of his guys came, and they busted up my apartment and roughed me up, and told me if I missed another payment they'd kill me, and I got fired yesterday, and I missed my payment…" Joe's voice was getting more and more frantic. Frank's heart jumped into his throat.

"It's gonna be okay, Joey. How much do you owe the guy? It can't be that much, right? We'll get some money together, pay off what you owe plus extra, and smoothe this whole thing over." He had found a sharpie and notepad.

"Ten thousand dollars."

"You owe how much?" Frank was stunned to say the least. "How sick did you get, Joey?"

"It doesn't matter, Frank. He's gonna kill me if I don't get that money to 'im. He's gonna-"

Frank heard a yell, and then scuffling and what sounded like a baseball bat getting a solid hit, and then silence.

"Joey?"

Silence.

"Joey, answer me."

Silence.

"Joey Hardy, answer me right now."

"Who is this?" A gruff voice that most definitely didn't belong to his little brother answered his cries.

"Who are you?" Frank retorted, "and what did you do to my little brother?"

"It don't matter who I am," the gruff voice said. "All that matters is that you bring twenty thousand dollars to Sal's Saloon in Colorado Springs by Thursday."

A quick glance at the calendar, and Frank realized that Thursday was only 3 days away.

"He only owes ten thousand," Frank said in an attempt to stall.

"He missed two payments. That's two times his debt. Bring the money, or your brother doesn't live to see Friday morning."

Click.

Frank slowly put the phone back on the hook and sunk to his knees.

"Frank, honey? Is everything okay?" Callie called out from the living room.

"Yeah, babydoll. Everything's fine. I just gotta go see Joey on Thursday." Frank's heart pounded in his chest, and his voice caught in his throat. "He got a little sick and needs some help."

"Is he gonna be okay? Do you want me to come with you?" Frank's heart jumped into his throat again at the thought of putting Callie in the same situation as Joe.

"No!" He paused to compose himself. "No, it's okay. You gotta get the house all decorated and stuff." He pulled himself to his feet, steadying himself with the kitchen countertop. "I'll be back before you know it." He walked shakily over to where Callie was sitting on the couch, looking at a city map, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She put her hands on his forearms and leaned her head back against his chest.

Something in him realized that if things didn't go exactly right in the negotiations with Joe's captors, Frank might never make it home. He was afraid, very afraid, and he prayed Callie didn't notice. She did. For once, he hated just how well she knew him.

"Are you sure everything's okay?" She looked up at him, concern in her sparkling eyes. "You seem upset."

"I'm fine, babydoll." He leaned down to kiss the corner of her mouth. "Just a little tired."

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, Callie rested her head against his chest again and closed her eyes.

"I love you, Frank."

"I love you too, Callie." He kissed the top of her head, and tried to ignore the feeling of crushing guilt in his chest.