Watching You by Emachinescat
A Hardy Boys Fan-Fiction
SUMMARY: Fenton discovers what an important role he plays in his sons' lives, and the prospect scares him. Meanwhile, Frank and Joe have yet another adventure.
A/N: "Watching You" does not belong to me, it is performed by Rodney Atkins. I don't own the boys either, despite how much I want to.
Watching You
Driving through town, just my boy and me, with his Happy Meal in his booster seat, knowing that he couldn't have his toy 'til his nuggets were gone. Green traffic light turned straight to red. I hit my brakes and mumbled under my breath. His fries went a flying and his orange drink covered his lap. Then my four-year-old said a four letter word. It started with "s" and I was concerned, so I said, 'Son, where'd you learn to talk like that?'
Fenton Hardy was a world-famous private investigator, and lived in the small town of Bayport with his wife, Laura, and their two small sons, Frank, who was five, and Joe, who had just turned four.
Fenton was frustrated. No, frustrated was too mild of a word. He was enraged. As he paced his second-story office, he tried to think of a way to respond to what the man on the other line of the phone was saying.
The family had been planning on taking a vacation for some time now. Summer was nearing, and he felt that he, Laura, and the boys needed some time to get away from it all, to just have fun and spend time together as a family. But he had gotten a call from the hotel they had reserved a room at, telling him that there had been a mistake, and that there had really been no vacancy when the new employee had supposedly "reserved" their room. They had a "no money back" policy, however, but offered to get them in for free in the dinky "Bedbug Inn" across the street.
As the man finished, Fenton's anger took over. Now what was he going to tell his boys? They had been looking forward to this trip for a long time.
Fenton began to rant, unaware of the clear blue eyes watching him from his office door.
Joe Hardy sniffed, tears in his eyes. Frank was at school, in kindergarten, and there was no one to play with. His mother was busy making lunch, and Daddy was upstairs in his study.
Joe knew his father was a very busy man. He wasn't to little to understand that. He also knew that Daddy had a very important job, and that he didn't need to be disturbed. But he was bored, and when you are young, boredom is the worst thing that can happen to you.
Deciding against his better judgment, Joe slowly climbed up the stairs and stood outside the door to his father's study. He froze, however, as he heard Fenton's angry voice wafting from inside the room. Fenton slammed his
'This is an injustice! If anything, I should have my money back. I am not believing what I am hearing, you are being an absolute idiot!" Idiot. That sounded like a neat name to call someone. Joe decided he'd have to try it on Frank sometime. He didn't know what it meant, but if his daddy said it, it had to be okay.
Fenton came home to chaos the next day. He had left for the grocery store to buy something for dinner, and when he opened the front door…pandemonium. Laura was about to cry, and Frank was sitting on the living room floor, a single tear running down his face. He couldn't see Joe.
Rushing to Laura's side, he said, "What happened?"
"It's Joe," Laura said quietly.
Terrified, Fenton said, "What? Is he okay? Did-?"
"It's nothing like that, dear," Laura said hurriedly. "It's just…Joe acted out very badly today. I think you need to talk to him about it."
"What happened?"
Laura sighed. "He's up in his room. Why don't you go up there to him? I've had enough for right now."
He said, 'I've been watching you, Dad, ain't that cool? I'm your buckaroo, I wanna be like you, and eat all my food, and grow as tall as you are. We've got cowboy boots and camo pants, we're just alike, hey, ain't we, Dad? I wanna do everything you do, so I've been watching you.'
Fenton opened the door to Joe's room to find the small figure of his little boy curled up on the bed, sobs racking his tiny body. "Joe?" he said tentatively. He groaned inwardly. He wasn't used to being the "serious" parent. In fact, although he had been a father for five years, he still wasn't sure of himself. Of course, he loved his boys, and would give his life for them. But punishing them? That was a different story.
Joe looked up, tears pouring down his cheeks. "I was a bad boy, Daddy," he said quietly, fearfully.
Picking him up, Fenton sat down on the toddler's bed with Joe in his lap. "Well…what happened? Can you tell me what you did?"
Joe shook his head. "No."
"Why not?"
"You'll hate me." The words came out as a whisper.
Fenton was astounded. "Why would you even say that?" He murmured, pulling his son into a hug.
"Frank already does."
"No, I promise you, Joe, your brother loves you very much."
"I didn't know I was doing anything wrong."
"Please, Joey, just tell me what you did. I won't hate you, no matter what."
Joe took a deep breath. "Frank took a quarter out of my piggy bank—without asking!" His blue eyes were so indignant that it was hard for Fenton not to laugh. Then again, he had to remind himself, even a quarter was a big deal to young children. "So today, when he got back from school, I told him: 'This is un-justification, and I want my money back.' Then I told him he was a idiot." There was a pause. "Then I hit him."
"Joe!" Fenton said sternly, appalled that his youngest son would do such a thing. "You know not to hit people, and you know it's wrong to call people names."
"I didn't know 'idiot' was a mean thing to say."
"Where did you hear someone call another person an idiot?"
There was silence.
"And where did you see someone hit something—or someone—when they were mad?"
"I've been watching you," was the reply. Joe was about to break into tears again. "I just wanted to be like you."
At midnight, Laura could hear Fenton tossing and turning next to her in the bed. Sighing, she sat up and flipped on the bedside lamp. "Honey? What's wrong?" she muttered sleepily.
Fenton rolled over to face her, stress evident in his eyes. "Laura, they…they watch me…they want to be like me…I…Joe didn't know he was doing anything wrong. He thought it was okay because I called that man on the phone an idiot, and because I hit the desk when I was angry."
"We've talked about this, Fenton," Laura said tiredly. "Joe apologized to Frank, and they were best friends again before bath time. We explained to Joe what he did was wrong, and then we—well, I—let it go. So why are you still obsessing over it?"
"I guess I never realized—I'm being watched all the time. What if they see me do something dangerous, and then repeat it and get hurt? Or what if they see me say something I didn't mean to say, or shouldn't have said, then get in trouble for repeating it? Like what happened tonight?"
He paused, waiting for an answer. All he got was a soft snore. Laura had fallen asleep during his speech. He smiled slightly to himself. He didn't blame her.
We got back home, and I went to the barn. I bowed my head, and I prayed real hard. Said, 'Lord, please help me, help my stupid self.' Then this side of bedtime, later that night, turning on my son's Scooby-Doo nightlight, he crawled out of bed, and he got down on his knees. He closed his little eyes, folded his little hands, and spoke to God like he was talking to a Friend, and I said, 'Son, where'd you learn to pray like that?'
Later on that week, there came word that some new neighbors were moving in next door. It was a wet, dreary Saturday, and Frank and Joe were bored to tears.
"Wanna go play hide and seek?" Joe asked for the umpteenth time.
"No," Frank replied testily. "I'm tired of that game."
"What about tag?"
"It gets boring with just two people."
There was a slight pause. Frank cherished his moment of peace. Then—
"Wanna go chase Mrs. Morton's cat?"
"No, we got in big trouble when we did that this morning. Why don't we go see if Dad wants to do something?" Frank suggested, trying to get his brother's mind elsewhere.
"What about me?" Fenton Hardy had just strode into the room, umbrella in hand.
"Will you play with us?" the boys asked in unison.
"Sorry, you two, but I'm going to help the new neighbors move in."
"Why?" Frank asked, curious as to why his father would give up playing with him and his brother to help someone he didn't even know unpack things.
"Yeah, we're more fun!" Joe insisted.
Fenton smiled. "It's good to do nice things for other people. The Andersons need my help, and I'm going to give up some of my free time to help someone in need. It's called compassion, and it's a very good thing to have."
After he had left, Frank turned to Joe. "Maybe we should start having more compassion," he said.
"Yeah…" came Joe's distracted response. "So, d'ya wanna go over to the Mortons' and tease Iola about her cooties?"
After Frank got home from school the next Wednesday, Fenton and Laura took the boys to the local park. As they watched, a little red-headed boy came over to an even smaller girl and begin to bother her.
Laura nudged Fenton as she saw Frank and Joe approach the bully, just as he was yanking on the child's braid.
"Hey, you need to leave that girl alone," Frank said. The boy turned around.
"Why?"
"'Cuz you're not s'possed to bother girls." Joe lowered his voice to a whisper. "You might catch their cooties."
Fenton chuckled at his youngest son's methods of "standing up" for the girl.
"Why do you even care?" the boy spat. "I wasn't bothering you."
What the boys said next nearly melted Fenton's heart.
"It's called 'compassion'," Frank said matter-of-factly.
"Yeah," agreed Joe. "It's when you are nice to someone, and you help them when they need it."
"And you take time out of what you want to do to help them."
"You really should try it sometime," said Joe. Angry, the kid brought back his fist and hit Joe in the face—hard. Fenton and Laura came running, as did the bully's mother. They could hear her scolding all the way to the car. Joe's eye was beginning to swell and bruise, and a trickle of blood seeped out of his nose, but he didn't cry. Despite the pain, the child felt good. He knew he and his brother had done something good. Plus, that kid was getting the lecture of his life, and for some reason, Joe couldn't find compassion for him right then.
He said, 'I've been watching you, Dad, ain't that cool? I'm your buckaroo, I want to be like you, and eat all my food, and grow as tall as you are. We like fixing things, and holding Mama's hand, we're just alike, hey, ain't we, Dad? I wanna do everything you do, so I've been watching you.' With tears in my eyes, I wrapped him in a hug, said, 'My little bear is growing up,' and he said, 'But when I'm big, I'll still know what to do…'
"You know, that was a very brave thing for you boys to do," Fenton said later that day as he and Laura sat with their sons in the living room. Joe had an icepack on his eye, but had otherwise recovered from his ordeal.
Frank shrugged. "I didn't like seeing that little girl upset."
"I bet that mean old boy gets cooties," Joe muttered. "I warned him not to touch'er!"
Fenton and Laura laughed.
"But tell me, boys, what you said back there, about compassion," Laura began, "that was very grown up and wonderful. Where did you learn something like that?"
Joe and Frank grinned at each other, then turned to their father. "Dad." They said it simultaneously.
Fenton's heart soared, and he felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. "I'm so proud of you boys."
"No, Dad," Frank said seriously. "We're proud of you."
"Yeah, and when we grow up, we're going to be just like you!" Joe added.
Laura kissed her husband lightly on the lips. "Then I know we're going to have two swell men around the house."
Fenton grinned. At first, he had thought that being his sons' role model was a burden, but now, as he looked at the smiling faces of the two children he held dearer than life itself, he realized that it was a blessing. A blessing that he would have to treat with care, and make sure he was the kind of man he wanted his sons to be at all times, but it was a blessing all the same.
'…'cause I've been watching you, Dad, ain't that cool? I'm your buckaroo, I want to be like you, and eat all my food, and grow as tall as you are. By then, I'll be as strong as Superman, we'll be just alike, hey, won't we, Dad? When I can do everything you do…'cause I've been watching you.'
A/N: "Watching You" does not belong to me, it is performed by Rodney Atkins. I don't own the boys either, despite how much I want to.
Please read and review, but no flames please!
~Emachinescat ^..^