Heart and Soul

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.

Thank you to Wendylouwho10 for reading my story, finding some errors, and making suggestions! Thanks as always!

Rating/Setting: Rating is T. Setting is AU and paranormal I suppose but leans towards Casefiles. Written for a Contest Challenge on the HDA website. Guidelines were posted on the HDA website. But you can say that this is a story set around a year-end holiday and must include a musical instrument.

Summary: What happens when a brother is lost and can't find his way? Can the past be changed so that life continues?

Chapter One:

New Year's Eve…

The Caretaker pulled the pipe from his mouth and let a curling plume of smoke ascend in front of his eyes. Some would find it interesting that a figure known as Father Time enjoyed a pipe and occasionally a cigar from time to time. It shouldn't surprise anyone since Saint Nicholas was known to smoke a pipe, but somehow Father Time was not. But then Father Time was a misnomer as 'time' was not his child; no, Caretaker was a much better sobriquet. He was one among many, as it took much work to keep up with the time people lost to idleness or how it was wished away by the young who wanted to be older. The Caretaker pushed his ruminations to the side as he waved away the smoke that still wanted to stay in front of his face. No, tonight was a night to remember; a night to remember two deaths and perhaps save more than one life. It was a dangerous thing to attempt to rewrite the melody that time played but sometimes the danger was worth it. The shouts of 'Happy New Year!' rang out in the distance as fireworks were set off. One year was ending and another beginning. The Caretaker took one more look at the grave that was just filled that morning in an unusual New Year's Eve burial. The name 'Hardy' stood in stark distinct lettering on the large stone that was centered in the family plot. It stood as guardian over the two graves that were filled. One grave fresh, the other ten years old….

The Caretaker closed his eyes and traveled back a week; he would have to go carefully, as the further he went back, the more difficult things became as the songs of many stories overlapped.

One week earlier, Christmas Eve…

Frank Hardy sat at the bar of his favorite Bayport watering hole; he finished off his drink and sat the glass down heavily on the counter. "I'll have another one, Andy." Noticing the look on the bartender's face, Frank gave him a smile. "I'm not sloshed." Yet, he added in his mind. But to Andy he said, "One more and I'm done. Promise." I'll be done here, but I'll have more at home.

"Sure, Frank. One more," Andy said with some relief. "It's Christmas Eve; you should be with your family."

Frank only watched the liquor as it filled his glass. Andy was a good guy, but he was new and he didn't realize that family was the reason Frank was at the bar on Christmas Eve. Correction, he thought. The ghost of a family member is why I'm here; one particular blonde-haired, blue-eyed ghost.

Ten minutes later the drink was gone and Frank was buttoning up his coat and heading to his car in the nearby lot. The neon lights from the bars flashed multi-colors into the water that sat in puddles along the edge of the street, a by-product of the salt mixture placed on the road after the recent snow. Frank slipped a little in the parking lot and let out a soft curse as he barely kept himself from falling on the ice slicked parking lot. "Cheap bar. They should have had this salted," he muttered. The liquor made him fumble his keys slightly and slowed his reflexes as the keys dropped to the ground. He retrieved them and stood for a moment. Too late he detected the footsteps behind him. Too late to block the blow that came at his head. Too out of it to put up a fight as the robbers grabbed his keys and then tossed him over a fence. Frank rolled through the snow to land at the bottom of the small hill with his body partially in the freezing water that had collected there. Frank lay there for a moment blinking in the darkness that was alleviated only slightly by the streetlights far above. His head hurt, his leg hurt, he was cold… and he was so tired of facing the memories that haunted him. But he owed his brother more than dying at the bottom of what was essentially an over-sized ditch. Joe would have laughed at him for not finding a better way to die than that. So Frank tried, but the blow to the head was more than a goose egg and slowly his ability to claw his way up gave way to the increasing pressure in his skull and Frank Hardy lost consciousness.

People knew better than to bother Frank on Christmas Eve so it was late the next day before his parents began to look for him. It was a day later that he was found. The cold had gotten to him before the injury could complete its task.

So Fenton and Laura Hardy buried their second son, the date on the temporary marker for Frank showing he too died on Christmas day, just ten years after his brother.

The Caretaker traveled back to New Year's Eve and the funeral that had taken place that morning. As he watched the casket being lowered into the cold ground he knew that this Christmas Eve wasn't far enough back to make a change. Frank Hardy's life had taken a dark turn years before this particular Christmas and there was another life that he needed to investigate. The Caretaker closed his eyes and the scene changed to Christmas Eve two years prior.

Christmas Eve two years ago… Frank…

"Frank, it's Christmas Eve," Fenton said pleadingly. "Won't you come eat at the house? Your mother and I would love to have you there. Your Aunt Gertrude fixed your favorite."

Smiling, Frank said, "Aunt Gert's famous candied yams?"

"The very ones," Fenton said with a matching smile.

Frank could see the hope there but he couldn't make that hope reality. "I'm sorry, dad. I just can't."

"It's been-"

"Don't say it," Frank said angrily. "Don't say that it's been eight years. Eight years doesn't make it right."

Fenton put his hand on Frank's shoulder. "That isn't what I was going to say. I was going to say that it's been too long since you've been home."

Frank looked down guiltily. "Sorry, dad. I just. I don't." He lifted his hands in surrender. "I don't know how to be there and not relive it." Frank knew that his parents worried about him. He took the most dangerous jobs he could for the Network. The scars on his body were nothing compared to the scars to his psyche. He took dangerous assignments and made reckless choices. He had been put on mandatory leave by the Network because he played things too fast and loose even for them.

"How about we eat here? We can bring over the meal and we can all eat here at your place. Say you'll do it, son. Please." Fenton's tone was once again hopeful as he broke into Frank's thoughts and this time Frank did make his wish a reality.

Christmas Eve two years ago… four hours later…

Frank looked at the leftovers his mom had left in the refrigerator for him. It was enough to last him a week. The conversation at the meal had been forced, awkward, and stilted. It certainly hadn't been festive or enjoyable for any of them and Frank had no doubt that the next year his father wouldn't suggest a meal at his apartment. That was fine with him; it would be better that way. Frank closed the door to the fridge and opened the cabinet to the left of it and got out the bottle of Scotch. Grabbing a glass for himself, he took the items to the couch and sat down. He placed the liquor on the coffee table but didn't pour himself anything. It wasn't time yet. He looked at the clock, three more hours until the anniversary. He looked back to the coffee table. Maybe this year he'd start early.

Christmas Eve two years ago… Vanessa…

Vanessa sat in her Manhattan studio apartment staring out at the twinkling lights of the city that never sleeps. She could hear her husband moving around in the kitchen. It was Christmas Eve and they'd had dinner delivered. No home cooked meal here. She never could do it for Christmas. Not with all the memories that went with a family meal on the eve of the big holiday. At first Chris had been understanding, but now he seemed to want her to move on. Vanessa closed her eyes. Perhaps she should but in some ways she would never move past that night eight year previous; the night her heart was ripped open. Her eyes popped open when she heard Chris running his fingers across the keys on their piano. He wouldn't, she thought angrily even as the one-handed melody of 'Heart and Soul' came to her ears.

Turning in anger, her eyes flashed as they locked with her husband's. "Chris!" Her tone conveyed all the anger she felt.

He returned her glare before standing and closing the piano with a jarring sound. Without a word he turned and left the room.

Vanessa's anger left with her husband. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she crossed her arms and turned back toward the window. Her marriage was ending and she knew it. Maybe it was for the best.

…Two lives still lost. The Caretaker shook his head; not far enough. His eyes closed once again.