Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the Hardy Boys.
A/N: This is set in the Casefiles series universe. So spoiler alert for anyone who hasn't read that series or heard of what took place in the first book of the series. (I'm pretty sure most people are aware of that already, though.)
Joe Hardy blinked his eyes open with a start, and stared around his darkened room in confusion. He rolled over to check the bright red numbers on the digital clock on his nightstand - almost one-thirty in the morning. With a groan, he fell back on his rumpled bedspread. He shifted uncomfortably as his plaid pajamas pants got twisted from the movement, reminding him why he never wore any kind of pants to bed. He hadn't been intending to fall asleep. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, before walking over to the window. Frank's car was back in the driveway. Joe wondered how long his brother had been home. He hadn't heard him come in the front door or go down the hall to his room.
I must have been really out of it. I guess that beach party wiped me out.
He thought about peeking in his brother's room to… check on him or something. But after a few moments, he changed his mind. Frank might not be in the mood to be bothered right now. And usually Joe wasn't the type to really fuss over or "mother-hen" people, but these past few days – or rather weeks – had been… different. So different, in fact, it almost made him physically ill to think about what was coming.
Tomorrow. No, today! It's today!
He could feel the knots starting to form again in his stomach, so he tried his best not to think about tomorrow/today or what would happen then. Instead, he conjured up a mental image of his girlfriend, Vanessa, in her navy blue bikini from earlier that day.
Yes… much better.
Deciding some chocolate milk would help him go back to sleep, he headed out of his room and down the stairs, being careful to skip the creaky step second to the bottom rather than risk waking his sleeping family. He made his way to the kitchen in the dark, his path familiar from many midnight-snack excursions over the years. He found the refrigerator with ease and opened the door, squinting blue eyes against the sudden bright light. He grabbed the milk carton and a bottle of Hershey's chocolate syrup, before shutting the door and setting the items on the counter. He walked over to the cabinets above the sink and started feeling for his favorite glass.
"I hope you're planning on heating that."
Joe almost jumped out of his skin at the sudden voice coming from a darkened corner of the kitchen. He whirled around to see a faint outline of a man sitting at the small kitchen table. He couldn't see very well due to the temporary blinding affects the light from the refrigerator had on his eyes, but it didn't matter. He knew that voice as well as his own. Better, even.
"Jeez, Frank! Don't do that! Why didn't you say something when I came in?" Joe placed his hand dramatically over his heart, which was now beating quite rapidly.
Frank chuckled at his brother's reaction. "It was a golden opportunity - I couldn't pass it up. What kind of big brother would I be if I didn't torture you every chance I got?"
"A pretty awesome one, if you ask me," Joe grumbled good-naturedly, before he moved to turn on the dim light above the sink. He looked back over at Frank as he went to retrieve a couple of mugs for the both of them. His brother was still wearing his black swim trunks and white T-shirt from the beach party, and his usually "picture perfect" hair had been ruffled and curled by the damp ocean breeze. It made him look younger than his nineteen years.
Joe held up an old red mug in silent question and Frank nodded gratefully. Joe set to work pouring milk into both mugs and then placing them in the microwave to heat. Too late, he remembered that Frank didn't really like his hot chocolate nuked, but when he glanced at him his older brother was just staring off into space apparently unbothered by Joe's shortcut method. Joe mentally shrugged.
Well, it's not going to kill him. The kettle takes too long. And it's not like you can tell the difference anyway.
Joe turned and leaned against the counter as he waited. "So… how was your little walk with Callie? You guys were gone a long time."
Frank smiled, a little wistfully. "It was good," he said softly. "She won't be here tomorrow; she's got to get ready to leave by Friday morning, so we took our time. Her parents are following her to California. They'll be staying at her Aunt Emma's place until she gets settled in at UCLA." Frank reached for the napkin holder and started fiddling with it.
That was all he offered and Joe didn't ask for more than that. The brothers were very close, but there were still some personal things that they didn't share with each other, especially things that had to do with girlfriends. Joe figured he probably didn't really want to know anyway, and vice versa.
A series of low beeps disturbed the quiet as the microwave went off. Joe took out the steaming cups of milk and brought them over to the table, along with the bottle of syrup and two spoons. Frank smiled again, this time in appreciation as Joe set one in front of him. Joe moved to pull out the chair directly across from Frank, but then changed his mind and sat in the one perpendicular to him. The table wasn't very big so their knees touched under it, but neither brother pulled away from the contact. Each boy stirred chocolate into his milk, Joe's portion being considerably more generous.
"That's disgusting," Frank said in a kind of horrified awe as he eyed Joe's somewhat darker than usual milk.
Joe swallowed a big sip and smacked his lips in exaggerated satisfaction. "Ah, it's great!"
Frank just shook his head in mock exasperation, and swallowed his own sip of moderately flavored milk. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes while they drank, fully content with just each other's company.
Joe was about to get up and make himself another cup when Frank spoke up. "Do you remember that time we started a club in our old tree house? And we told the guys the only way to get in the club was to drink that disgusting concoction we mixed up?"
Joe blinked at the sudden random topic of discussion, but only for a moment. Then the memory came to him and he laughed. "Oh, man. What was in that stuff? It was nasty. I remember ketchup, mustard, mayo and milk. Oh. And salad dressing." Joe shuddered.
"And chocolate syrup. I think I even added Tabasco sauce," Frank reminded him, making a face. "It was all brownish colored and thick and gooey. I think we just about mixed in everything we could find in the kitchen. We told them that we'd already done it and they had to do it too if they wanted in. Tony backed out right away, but Chet and Biff were game."
"Well, Biff was game at first. But then Chet threw up after he drank the stuff and Biff changed his mind real quick." Joe chuckled. "Ugh, that was sick. Poor Chet."
"I remember Iola wanted to try it. Even after Chet threw up."
Joe smile softened at the mention of his late girlfriend, but didn't disappear. "I forgot about that. You're right, she did."
Frank shook his head, a fond look on his face. "That girl was crazy sometimes. I remember when Tony and I had moved on to junior high and we started hanging out with Phil. Iola hunted me down and chewed me out one time for 'abandoning' you guys for new, older friends. I was so mad at her at first, but then I realized that she kinda had a point. That's when I started inviting Phil and Tony along when the rest of us did stuff together." Frank smiled and finished off his drink.
Joe winced a bit at the mention of the word "abandon" but couldn't help but smile in response to the memory. "Yeah, I remember that, too."
He didn't tell Frank there was another reason Iola read him the riot act. She saw how badly Joe had missed Frank when he started doing more things with his new classmates. Headstrong and opinionated as always, she had quickly decided to do something about it. That marked the time when he started thinking of her more as a friend and less like his friend's pesky sister.
He cared deeply about Vanessa, but he still missed Iola dearly. She had been more than a girlfriend – she had been one of his best friends. He could only hope that he would find something like that or stronger again with another girl, maybe Vanessa. Only time would tell.
He thought of the time immediately after Iola's murder. It had been the darkest, most turbulent period of his life. The guilt, grief, and anger had threatened to consume him completely. It wasn't nearly as bad now that more than a year had passed, but he still had days and moments when the pain felt just as fresh. He found though that as time went by the memories and emotions associated with her death surfaced less and less often. It would be a long, never-ending healing process – Joe knew he would still feel the loss even if he lived to be one hundred – but it would get better.
Joe glanced at his brother's face before returning his gaze to his empty mug. Frank believed that Vanessa played a big part in helping Joe to move on. Meeting Vanessa had helped him to look forward to new relationships. But really, he never would have seriously dated Vanessa if he hadn't already healed substantially.
Frank also credited Joe's resilience with his strong character and stubbornness. Maybe that was true to a certain extent. Joe knew that he was hardy in spirit.
Heh, heh. Pun intended.
He was willing to concede that he had done much to help himself recover from the traumatic event – Joe was no weakling, after all, either physically or emotionally. However, the one he credited the most was not himself or Vanessa but the one sitting next to him.
Frank had always, constantly been there for him during that time, even when Joe didn't think he wanted him around or when others were wary about dealing with Joe's temper. His brother hadn't ever really said anything different than what everyone else had said – that he shouldn't blame himself and he didn't know it would happen and so on. But Frank had just been there, sometimes silent in his support and sometimes encouraging and comforting with his words. And when Frank did speak to him about Iola, Joe found himself more willing to listen. No one knew that day better than the two of them. No one understood what Joe had gone through better than Frank had. The brothers had always been close, but Joe had never loved and appreciated his brother more than he had after Iola died. He truly didn't know what he would have done without him.
Feeling the emotion beginning to swell in his throat, Joe quickly cleared it. He was sure getting sentimental tonight. Deciding he'd been quiet probably for too long, he searched for another fond memory to share. When it came to him, a huge grin broke out on his face.
"Hey, remember when we tried to dye Dad's boxer briefs red for Chet's Superman outfit and they came out pink? So we stuffed them in the clean laundry basket to try to make it look like Mom did it?"
"Oh, man, yeah! I try not to remember that, actually. Mom wasn't very happy with us that day. She wasn't very happy with Dad, either, when he gave us tips on creating better frame-ups."
And so they sat together in the dark, drinking hot chocolate and sharing stories and memories of times passed, until they could barely speak through their yawns. When they finally bid each other goodnight and went to their separate rooms, Joe found himself smiling and feeling much lighter. Despite what he knew was coming, tonight had been great and was a night he would forever remember fondly. Maybe this wouldn't be as hard as he had thought…
***
He was right in a way. It was even worse than he had imagined. All the fond recollections from the night before now only served to multiply the butterflies in his stomach as he helped Frank carry his suitcases out of the house and into his newly acquired car. So far, he would say that he'd put on a pretty good front, joking around and complaining about Frank's heavy packing as expected. He hoped no one noticed his hands shaking, or if they did that they kept it to themselves.
This was happening too soon. He wasn't ready for this.
Frank appeared to be excited and eager, though Joe noticed more than a few prolonged glances at rooms or the neighborhood as if Frank were trying to embed the images in his mind indelibly. For some odd reason, this irritated Joe almost as much as it relieved him.
Quit acting like you'll never see it again... I'm glad you don't want to forget anything.
And while Frank was trying hard not to show it, Joe could tell by the way he kept swiping at his hair and playing with his car keys that he was nervous. They could both be such prideful fakers sometimes. Both scared of the changes that lie ahead but neither willing to admit it.
Their mother was already fighting back tears before they even started loading Frank's belongings. She kept asking if Frank was sure he had everything he needed and if he wanted to wait to leave until after lunch. Frank just patiently answered her questions with firm replies, considerate of her concern but resolved not to prolong his departure. Their father was busy going over Frank's route on a map and offering suggestions on which roads to take in case of detours, heavy traffic, or emergencies. Frank just nodded to demonstrate his acknowledgement but Joe was sure he wasn't even listening to half of what Fenton was saying. Aunt Gertrude busied herself offering what was in her opinion helpful tips on how to properly load the luggage for optimal space.
Finally, car packed and Frank's route planned, the whole Hardy family was assembled on the front lawn to see Frank off. Joe stood back a little and watched his family say their goodbyes.
There was hesitant silence for a few moments while everyone stared at each other before Aunt Gertrude suddenly stepped forward with a small cooler in her hands. She all but shoved it into Frank's arms, explaining to him that it was full of snacks for the road, before she told him to be careful and hugged him quickly. Then she turned and went up the front steps to sit on the porch swing, mouth tightly drawn but completely composed.
Laura was next. Tears now flowing freely, she hugged her eldest son tightly and whispered something Joe couldn't hear. Frank returned the hug and murmured a soft reply, leaning back to smile at her reassuringly. She finally let him go and stepped away to try to calm herself as her husband moved forward to take his turn. Frank held out his hand respectfully to his father, which Fenton used to pull his son closer to him and into a brief and powerful embrace. The senior detective said nothing but his proud smile did all the expressing for him.
Joe observed all of this with an increasing tightness in his throat. With every farewell his turn got closer, and he just didn't want to do it. He really didn't want to have to say goodbye. He hated this.
At last, Frank turned his attention to his younger brother. Joe kept his face carefully blank except for a painfully forced smile. He couldn't seem to make himself move forward, though, so Frank closed the distance for him. Absently, Joe could sense his parents moving back, giving them space and a measure of privacy.
For a second, neither of them said anything. They just stood awkwardly face to face while Frank looked at Joe and Joe alternately looked at the ground, the car, and Frank's right ear. Joe was almost afraid to look his older brother in the eye, afraid that he would lose his poise if he did. He felt a little embarrassed that he was having such a hard time with this while Frank was apparently unaffected. Frank was the one leaving their childhood home for a university across the country after all, not him.
Suck it up, Joe! He opened his mouth to speak, but Frank beat him to the punch.
"So… this is it, I guess. I'll, uh, see you later?" Frank asked, and Joe was surprised to hear Frank's voice sounding a little quieter than usual. It was enough to make him look Frank fully in the face, and he was startled to see the open emotion there. Frank finally looked like he was struggling with himself, his reassuring smile betrayed by the veiled anxiety in his eyes. It gave Joe some confidence to know that his big brother was feeling almost as choked up about this as he was. Really, he should have expected it. They almost always felt the same way about things, despite their differing personalities. Then he thought about what Frank had said.
See you later. Not goodbye… I think I can handle that.
Joe tried to clear his throat of the elephant that had taken up residency there. "Yeah. Yeah, see you later. Definitely." He smiled, much more sincerely this time. He offered out his hand, like Frank had to Fenton.
Maybe I will get through this without humiliating myself. See, big bro? I can pull off "cool, calm, and collected" when I really want to.
That notion was shattered when Frank completely ignored his proffered hand in favor of enveloping Joe in a warm embrace. The uncharacteristic move threw Joe for a second. Outside of near-death or other extreme circumstances, the brothers didn't really hug or otherwise physically demonstrate their affection. That just wasn't their style.
But once Joe's mind processed the gesture, his stoic façade broke. The moment his face was hidden against his brother's shoulder from Frank or his parents' view, he could feel it crumple and his eyes instantly burned with tears. His arms moved up of their own volition to wrap fiercely around broad shoulders and he had to bite his lip to keep it from trembling. All of the thoughts and doubts from the past few weeks flashed through his mind at once.
I don't want to be left behind… We've always done everything together… This changes so much, and I hate it! We can't go back after this! ... Will we still be this close? Will we grow apart? … We're partners. What are you going to do without me there to watch your back? ... You're my best friend… What am I supposed to do without you?
Please… Please, don't forget me…
He fought hard to keep his breath from hitching and to keep from clinging too tightly. Frank didn't say anything, and for that he was grateful. There was no way he could carry on a dignified conversation now. Joe shut his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself, consciously trying to make his tense shoulders relax. Like always, his brother's ever-soothing presence began to take effect, temporarily quieting his distressing thoughts.
When he was confident that he wouldn't start crying or do anything else equally horrifying, he raised his head and the brothers separated and grinned at each other sheepishly. If Frank noticed his red eyes, he didn't show it. Joe was eternally grateful for that.
Frank took a deep breath and pulled out his cellular phone. He held it up and smiled at Joe confidently, dark eyes now in harmony with his expression. "Call me. All the time. Any time. Don't forget."
"I won't. I mean, I will. You know what I mean." Joe managed a genuine grin at his own flubbed answer.
Frank began walking backwards toward his car while never taking his eyes off of his family, his parents and aunt gathered together on the porch steps and Joe in the driveway. He reached the vehicle and opened the door to climb in, turning to wave goodbye one last time. Joe and the rest of the Hardy family waved back, calling out last-second advice and endearments. And then Frank was closing the door and starting the engine.
Joe crossed his arms over his chest and watched the black car back out of the driveway.
There's nothing to worry about, Joe. This is a good thing. I should be happy for him; I am happy for him. We'll keep in touch. We'll always be brothers…
The car stopped in the street and the window rolled down. Frank looked directly at Joe, standing just a few feet away, with a knowing expression on his face. But Frank just smiled again and stuck his arm out the window to wave as he pulled away from the curb.
Joe waved just as enthusiastically as the other Hardy family members as the car started down the street. But when the car moved farther away, Joe found himself walking down the drive and into the street to keep it in sight. He kept on waving until his brother's vehicle disappeared around a curve. Then he stared down the empty road, vision increasingly blurry as his arm fell slowly to his side.
The beeping in his pocket made him jump. He tore his gaze away from the street to check the display of his cell phone, which had alerted him to a new text message. He could barely read through the tears in his eyes but his could just make out Frank's name on the screen. Swallowing hard, he opened the message:
"We're still a team, little bro. We'll always be brothers, partners, & friends. Promise. :)"
Joe sucked in a shaky breath and blinked as a couple of tears finally fell. Then he laughed and shook his head, amazed once again at how well his brother knew him. He saved the message and pushed the button to reply. He hesitated, unsure of how to express his gratitude without getting too sappy. That was Frank's area. He settled with:
"Gonna hold ya to that, bro. :) Love you. Be careful."
Joe found it immensely easier to type the words than to say them aloud. Frank probably realized that.
He wiped his eyes as he waited for a reply, aware that his family was watching him discreetly from the house. He turned and smiled at them to show them he wasn't having a breakdown or anything, and then returned his attention to his phone when it beeped again:
"Love you too. Don't tell me to be careful. YOU be careful! Talk to ya soon."
Joe took one last look at the quiet road ahead of him before heading back up the driveway toward the house, a wistful yet pleased smile on his face.
We'll be fine. We'll both graduate and then we'll work together with Dad's agency or we'll open our own, just like we always talked about as kids. This isn't the end of our close relationship as brothers and partners. We won't let that happen to us. I won't let that happen to us.
And despite the lingering ache in his chest, Joe decided he could really believe that.
Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think! (I hope it wasn't too sappy!)