Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

This story was originally written around 2003. There are many technological differences from today's world. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Note: Cherylann and Max2013 asked for immediate posting of the next story after Ides of August. Here it is. It takes place about 6 weeks after the end of Ides. I hope readers continue to enjoy the story arc.

September Reprise

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 1

He stared down at the photograph, his eyes grim and his jaw set. The object of his scrutiny appeared innocent enough – a group photo, people smiling for the camera. Everyone looking happy….

I don't want you to be happy! I want you to pay for what you've done – how you ruined everything! You and your…associates. Your friends. I want you – and them – to pay! And you will…you will!

He reached across the counter for the paper cutter, and laid the photograph on the square-etched surface. He raised the blade and brought it down, a miniature guillotine, beheading his enemies – and then stopped, holding the slicing edge a scant inch above the paper. If I cut it off like that, he mused, I'll take MY head off, too! After a moment's thought, he rotated the photograph, and moved it beneath the blade once more.

"Take THAT!" the spoken words came in unison with the sound of the paper cutter blade viciously slamming down. With a satisfied smile, he struck a match, and held it to the corner of the sliced-off portion, watching the paper curl and turn to smoke….

#####

A TUESDAY IN MID-SEPTEMBER

Frank Hardy sat at a small table in the student commons of Bayport Community College, the contents of his backpack spread over the tabletop. His dark head bent over a textbook, he scanned the pages, dutifully marking sentences and paragraphs with a yellow highlighter pen. Occasionally, he looked up, glancing around the busy room, keeping an eye out for his lunch companion – who was late. With a sigh, Frank consulted his wristwatch and frowned a little. She's never late like this…where could she be? She said she had an appointment – what kind of an appointment? He felt an irrational uneasiness at the continued absence.

Deeply engrossed in his reading, Frank didn't hear the light footsteps which approached him from behind, and he didn't catch the movement from the corner of his eye. The first indication he had that he was no longer alone was when warm fingers covered his eyes, and a soft, teasing voice whispered in his ear, "Guess who?"

"Megan!" Frank dropped the highlighter and reached with his right hand to grasp the ones obscuring his vision. His left remained where it was, snuggled against his chest, secure in the plaster cast and sling he had been wearing since the middle of August. "Where've you been? I was starting to get worried!"

He turned in his chair to greet his girlfriend – and froze, welcoming words dying on his lips. He blinked. "Megan?"

For the young woman who stood behind him – although undeniably Megan Wright, his girlfriend of a year – looked almost like a stranger. There were the huge blue-green eyes with the impossibly long eyelashes, true…and those amazingly beautiful eyes were alight with teasing laughter as she gazed at his incredulous face. The clothes were familiar, the scattering of tiny freckles on her nose was still there – but where was the riot of auburn curls? Instead, he saw smooth copper-golden waves hugging her cheeks, and drifting tantalizingly over her forehead in an artful swoosh.

"B-baby?" Frank managed to gulp out one word.

"I got tired of looking like Shirley Temple," Megan stated, her warm chuckle tumbling through the words. "So I had it cut and straightened and restyled….What do you think?" She whirled quickly around, showing the new hairstyle off from all angles, then turned back to Frank. And then she stopped, and the anticipatory light died from her eyes, to be replaced by apprehension and disappointment. The smile disappeared. "You don't like it," she said flatly.

Frank, flabbergasted though he might be by the sudden change in her appearance, knew trouble when he heard it. He cast a hasty prayer to the heavens for guidance.

"Like it? Of course I like it! It's just – such a change! I – I wasn't expecting it! I almost didn't recognize you." Frank quickly reached to pull out the other chair at the table. "Sit down and let me look at you!"

Slowly, Megan sat, and stared at him almost challengingly across the table, all smiles gone. The happy animation had faded from her piquant face, and Frank knew without a doubt that he had to say exactly the right things just now. He rested his chin on his fist, and gave her his complete attention, surveying her carefully before he spoke. And to Frank's credit, when he did speak, his words were completely honest.

"Baby, you were beautiful before…I loved those curls, even if you do say you looked like Shirley Temple. But now—" Frank smiled the warm grin which lighted his lean, handsome features. "Now…I've never seen you look more beautiful than you do right now."

She began to smile a little, although there was still a tinge of doubt in her eyes. "You're sure you like it?"

"Absolutely sure!" Frank reached out a tentative hand and cautiously touched the sleek coppery curve hugging one of her cheeks. "But now I'm afraid to touch you; I'll mess it up, or something!"

"No, you can touch it," she assured him. The smile grew a little more, and to his relief, Frank saw her single dimple appear.

Very gently, he stroked her hair, then moved his hand to the back of her head and pulled her towards him. He leaned forward over the table, and they met halfway for a lengthy kiss that Frank fervently hoped would remove any lingering doubts Megan might have about his opinion of her new hairstyle. "Love you, beautiful…" he murmured against her mouth, then resumed kissing her again.

When he finally released her and they sat back in their chairs, Megan's eyes held their customary sparkle. "Are you ready for lunch?" she asked.

"More than ready!" Frank nodded emphatically. He started to get to his feet, but she put out a forestalling hand.

"Just stay put, I'll get yours too. There's no need for you to try and juggle things with one hand when you've got a willing slave right here," she said teasingly. "I even know what you want – I'll pick it up."

"Honey, I'm hardly incapacitated you know," he began to protest mildly, but Megan shook her head decisively.

"You can spend the time clearing all this stuff off," gesturing towards the littered table, "so that we have a place to put our lunches." She leaned to quickly kiss him, and was gone, walking briskly through the mass of people, small in comparison to others in the crowd, but moving with the calm self-assurance that she nearly always displayed.

Frank dutifully kept his half of the bargain, packing his books and other paraphernalia into his backpack. With only one usable hand, it was slow going, and he had barely finished when his girlfriend returned, carrying a tray piled high with food. She was giggling as she sat down, that contagious ripple of sound that was one of the things Frank loved about her the most.

"Sean Hewitt said I looked like a fashion model," she bubbled, setting down the tray and beginning to dole out the items on it.

"You do," Frank replied, smiling. He arranged his hamburger, fries and soft drink in front of him, and waited until Megan had started on her fruit salad, before beginning to eat. "The most beautiful fashion model in the whole world."

She wrinkled her nose impudently at him. "Yeah, if I stand on a box so that I'm eight inches taller, maybe…and weighed less. And had a different face. Don't push it, Hardy; I like compliments as much as the next girl, but let's get real, here!"

"You'll probably start a mad dash for hairstylists – every girl who sees you is going to want a haircut that looks just like yours." Frank set about eating his lunch. By now, he had mastered the art of eating a hamburger with one hand. It involved using his other hand to steady the thing before he lifted it to his mouth, and meant he had to lean close to his plate, but at least he no longer dropped half of it when he attempted to take a bite.

"Well, I could believe that," she agreed complacently, and turned her attention to her lunch.

They were about halfway done when Frank, glancing around the commons, smiled and lifted his hand in a wave of welcome. Megan, whose back was to the room, raised an inquiring eyebrow, and turned to see who Frank had signaled to.

"Joe and Vanessa," Frank explained. "Our little froshes!" His grin was devilish. "Now we can practice looking old and world-weary, as befits college sophomores!"

"You can look old and world-weary if you want to," Megan responded tartly, "but it wouldn't be my first choice!"

"Kitten, you couldn't look that way, no matter what." Frank smiled warmly at her before turning to greet his brother.

Joe Hardy, at age 18 a year younger than Frank, was the antithesis of his elder brother in looks. Where Frank's hair was dark, Joe's was wavy blonde; where Frank's eyes were warm brown, Joe's were clear blue, and almost always held a mischievous twinkle. They were close in height, with Frank's six-foot-one topping Joe by an inch, but Joe was built more ruggedly, and outweighed Frank by ten or fifteen pounds of muscle.

The table was too small to comfortably seat two more people, but Joe dragged chairs close for himself and Vanessa. Vanessa dropped a large canvas bag on the floor with a resounding thud before taking a seat.

"Someone tell me why graphic art books have to weigh three tons apiece?" she demanded, heaving a tired sigh. "I'm considering bringing a little wagon to school to drag them around in!" She tossed back her long, ash-blonde hair, and looked directly at Frank and Megan for the first time. She stared, blinked, and then shrieked: "MEGAN WRIGHT! What did you do with your hair?"

Megan, blushing crimson, laughed and made shushing motions at her friend, as people all over the room turned at Vanessa's cry. "Shhh, shhh!" She glanced at Joe, who was staring at her in shock, then back at Vanessa. "What do you think?"

"It's marvelous! It's totally gorgeous! You look beautiful!" Vanessa let her voice drop to a conversational level. "Joe, isn't she gorgeous?"

Joe winked surreptitiously at Frank, then surveyed Megan thoughtfully, poker-faced.

Still pink-cheeked, she endured his appraisal as long as she could. "Well?" she demanded, at last.

"Not bad, Red – not bad at all!" he drawled, then let an affectionate grin spread across his face. "You look like a magazine ad….Yeah, it's pretty slick!"

Vanessa's hand went to her blonde locks. "I wonder how I'd look…" she mused.

Joe's eyes widened with dismay. "Babe, you wouldn't cut yours off – would you?" he implored, stretching out a hand to stroke the silky strands cascading down Vanessa's back. "I mean, Megan's was already pretty short, but yours…."

"Oh, probably not, but it's sort of fun to contemplate."

"So how're the classes going?" Frank hastily asked his brother, deciding to change the subject. Joe was looking entirely too appalled at the thought of Vanessa cutting her hair; Frank didn't want Megan's feelings to inadvertently be hurt by Joe. I already did that myself!

The younger Hardy made a wry face. "I now know why you spent all last year studying," he admitted, "but it's interesting, at least." Joe was taking many of the same classes Frank had taken the previous year, following his brother's lead in electing to study criminal investigation.

###

Frank and Joe were the sons of Fenton Hardy and his wife Laura. Fenton had been a highly successful police detective with the New York City police, but had resigned from the force when the boys were small, and moved to Bayport to open his own private investigative business. He was now considered to be tops in his field, and was widely sought after to handle all sorts of cases. From their early teens on, both Joe and Frank had found that following in their father's footsteps was what they wanted to do with their lives. They had solved many mysteries and captured many criminals while still in high school; now that they were in college, they felt that they were formally declaring their intent to join Fenton in his work.

Vanessa Bender, Joe's girlfriend, had chosen to major in graphic arts, with additional emphasis on computers. Nearly as tall as Joe, and slender, with wide-spaced blue-gray eyes and a quick, dry wit, Vanessa was the daughter of Andrea Bender, a computer animation artist who drew the popular TV cartoon Rex Rover. Vanessa's expertise with all things computer-related was well-known and often well-used, by her friends.

Megan had started out the prior year in some of the same criminal investigation classes that Frank had, but this semester she had cut back on them, and was taking things in a wider range, and trying to decide on a major. Not having as many classes together made their on-campus meetings such as this lunch date even more precious to the two of them. Now, Megan glanced at her wristwatch.

"I have to go in a few minutes, I'm afraid," she said regretfully. "I have a class at 2:00."

Frank's face fell; he had hoped to have more time with her. "I'll walk you to your class," he offered. He looked over at Joe and Vanessa. "Sorry to leave just as you got here," he apologized.

"It's okay…be like that…see if we care!" Joe pretended to sob into a giggling Vanessa's shoulder. "We're just bewildered little freshman, hoping for a kind word from you important, illustrious upperclassmen – and you go off and leave us stranded – AACCKK!" He broke off as Megan attacked his ribs with her fingertips. "Okay, okay, truce!" He squirmed out of her reach. "Jeez, you're vicious for such a little thing!"

"Trained to attack," she grinned, then reached for her bag and got to her feet. "I'm not done until 5," she said. "Anyone else around until then?"

"I am," Joe replied. "Football practice at 3:30"

"Me too," Vanessa nodded, then laughed. "Not football practice," she amended. "Classes until five."

"I had all mine this morning," Frank shook his head. "I'm done for the day." He glanced at his brother. "Try not to get roughed up too much at practice." Although nothing was evident to the casual eye now, Joe had received a concussion at the same time Frank's arm had been fractured, and even after this length of time, he was supposed to be careful. "I'll see you when you get home."

"See you in the parking lot, maybe?" Megan said to Vanessa, who nodded.

Megan and Frank took their leave, and Joe and Vanessa went to pick up their lunches.

###

Frank and Megan walked along the curving concrete pathway, heading for the Fine Arts building where Megan's Music Appreciation class was held. The diminutive redhead snuggled close to her boyfriend's side as they walked, Frank's arm draped protectively about her shoulders. When they reached their destination, they paused momentarily, and stepped away from the sidewalk.

"You'll take care…?" Frank's voice was somber. Even after nearly a year, the memory of Megan's abduction from the campus was fresh in his mind. He rarely felt secure about leaving her alone and unguarded. He had to do it, day after day, but the memories continued to haunt him, making his heart flutter and his stomach clench with irrational fear for her safety. His logical mind told him it was silly. She told him it was silly. He knew it was silly. But still the possibility clutched at him every time he left her alone there.

"Always." Megan had long ago stopped trying to argue him out of his apprehensions. She knew why he felt as he did. "I promise I'll watch out for myself, Frank; don't worry. And I'll try to connect with Joe and Vanessa before I leave for home." She tiptoed and pulled his face down to kiss his cheek. "You're going home now? Should I call you, later?"

"Yeah – please." He smiled down at her, and felt his fears subside a little, the little cold, creeping fingers of worry dissolving in the warmth of her loving smile. "Love the haircut, Baby," he added, and watched her eyes light with gratitude. "Now, scram, or you'll be late!"

Megan spun away and hurried towards the entrance. Frank stood and watched her go. She's so special…so beautiful, and warm and loving. It doesn't seem like it's been only a year since I met her…. A reminiscent smile crossed his face as he recalled the circumstances of their meeting, and the year which had followed.

Still thinking dreamy thoughts, Frank turned and retraced his steps along the cement pathway, heading towards the student parking lots.