Author's Name: Laurie Q
Title of Story: Coming of Age
Type of Story: AU
Rating of Story: T
Characters in Story: F, J, Fe, L, Ch, B, OC
Warnings: major character injuries, very mild swearing, and assorted violent bad guys
Date Originally Posted: April, 2009
Plot Blurb: An old friend of Fenton's lures him halfway around the world to work a case that's not what it appears; a minor coup ensues, endangering his family with one son imprisoned the other on the run…
Special Notes: All place and political names are strictly fictitious and I have no interest in making any sort of political statement with the story. The foreign language sections are Indonesian, but computer translated and likely laughable to anyone who actually speaks the language. There's also always someone with this tale that wants to point out that the medical happenings here aren't very likely. Of course not! I do the medically likely all day and fiction is an outlet. The medical procedures here are all possible, they just shouldn't be done in a hut. Don't construe any of it as actual medical advice, and we'll all be fine.
CHAPTER 1
"Boys? We're going to be late if you don't finish getting that junk in the car. Shake a leg!"
Frank raised an eyebrow at his younger brother, the early morning light glinting off blonde hair and giving him an angelic quality Frank wasn't buying. Although his Dad's voice had distinctly said 'boys,' there was little doubt about which Hardy was making the foursome late.
"So, you going to shake a leg on your own, Joe, or should I help with you that?" The delivery was dry, affectionate grin successfully stifled as he took a step toward his brother, hands miming a grab at his sibling.
"W-what?" Joe's mind was too sleep-fogged to even notice the implied threat. Sighing, he tried to wake up and decipher the problem. "We've got two hours to get to an airport that's eleven miles away. Not to mention that it's too early for anyone else to be on the road. We've still got time to get there even if we walk, Frank." He managed to sound only slightly cranky, which he thought was rather an accomplishment. His body may have gotten out of bed at four-thirty AM today, but his sunny personality wasn't getting up until ten. End of discussion. He crammed the last of a pile of t-shirts into his disaster of a suitcase and started rooting through the remaining mess scattered on the floor.
"And walking is exactly what you're going to be doing! Mom and Dad are already in the car, and we still have to stop at the Hooper's, and we have to get through traffic, and there's still airport security, and….."
Joe sliced through the recitation, finally conjuring a grin as he slipped past his brother into the hall. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that Frank was still in mid-thought and hadn't quite registered that Joe was now ahead of him.
"Frank, are you coming or what, slow poke? Dad says we're going to be late." Joe ducked the swat at back of his head and was in the driveway before his exasperated brother caught up with him.
Three hours later the pre-dawn energy spurt was gone. Joe sat on the floor, idly picking at the tweed of the steel blue carpet. The waiting area was packed and the flight was now over an hour late boarding. Perfect, this made him feel so much better about the ridiculous hour of his wake up call. He looked around, hoping for something even remotely interesting, but no such luck. Biff was on the floor too, thumbing through a magazine. His mom and Frank were going over the flight itinerary for the fiftieth time. His father had his nose stuck in a series of files that he had stashed in a briefcase last night. And as for Chet, well, at least that no smoking/ no food or drink sign didn't mention anything about snoring. Joe contemplated taking up snoring himself simply to have something to do. All in all the morning was just beyond fantastic.
"Joe?"
"Huh?"
"I asked if you wanted this." Biff held out the tattered copy of Car and Driver. "Third time I asked, actually."
"Oh. Sorry, guess I zoned out. We've been up for hours and it's still insanely early." Joe inspected the magazine cover, disappointed at the familiar photo. "Nah, read that one already. Why don't we walk around while we can? It's going to be a long flight."
"Sure. What about Chet?" Biff looked over their snoring friend.
Joe shook his head, wondering how in the world Chet could be comfortable enough to sleep curled in the miniscule plastic chair. "He's still got the tail end of that bug, let him rest."
Eighteen hours and four airports later the six of them stood outside an antiquated baggage return, stretching out kinks. Even the impeccable Laura looked disheveled by now.
"Tired, love?" Fenton pitched his voice softly, a bit surprised when Frank's head turned minutely in their direction. Perhaps he'd taught the boys to be a little too observant.
His wife leaned back against him, simply nodding. She felt stiff and cramped enough by the day's travel and knew her husband and the boys had to be paying for their much larger frames about now. Still, in an hour they'd all be at the hotel collapsing into a deluxe suite for the next two weeks. She smiled as she felt strong arms wrap around her waist.
"Not really boys anymore, are they?" The four teenagers stood a dozen feet from the couple, the clear outlines of young men softened in her memory by a vision of the same four boys a decade before smearing water colors at her kitchen table.
"They can still be boys to you, Laura, mother's prerogative." The detective chuckled as he brushed a kiss across his wife's temple. "But remember all this melancholic fondness when we get to the hotel and they want to hit the surf instead of the bed."
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Fenton unfortunately found himself right on the money. The enthusiastic whooping from the beach drifted through the open windows of their room, disrupting what little concentration he had for the files scattered over the rattan table. Still, he couldn't begrudge his sons and their friends some fun. The spring school break followed a round of midterms complicated by doing all the work for the following week as well since they'd be returning to school six days late. Biffs' parents had been reasonably easy going about their son's request to travel to Southeast Asian seas, but the Mortons had taken a little convincing. Chet had missed five days of the semester already with a nasty flu and his mother was concerned about the additional absence. As a result, all four boys had made certain that they were well ahead with their teachers.
Grinning at their exuberance, Fenton tried to refocus on his paperwork. The dark island wicker of the bed frame was engulfed in a mound of crisp white bedding and the sea breeze fluttered the gauzy mosquito netting and sheers. Laura was barely visible in the center of the overstuffed duvet, golden hair fanned over her sleeping face and brushing along a mostly bare shoulder. Fenton realized, not for the first time, that twenty years and two sons later, his wife was still an extraordinarily beautiful woman.
Fenton Hardy, what the thunder are you doing? The thought rattled around in his brain for a few minutes. The meeting that had brought him all this distance was still two days away. In the meantime, his sons were well occupied surfing in crystal tropical waters, a beautiful woman that just so happened to love him heart and soul was waiting in his bed, a suite Hemmingway would have died for surrounded him, and he was…. He was reading files. Pretty stupid for a supposedly smart guy. There was going to be plenty of time for reading later. Fenton crossed the teak planks of the floor and closed the shutters, shedding his shirt on the way back to the bed.
Frank leaned back on his elbows, athletic torso settling into the pristine powdered sand. Too bad his parents were working instead of enjoying themselves. He idly wondered what his mother had found to do. Probably nothing more than unpacking. The sun was already drying his dark hair and trunks and he shaded his eyes against the glare off the water. Joe and Biff were still surfing, the bantered trash talking of their challenges to one another occasionally drifting back to the shore. Chet had planted his surf board vertically into the sand beside Frank's and was meandering back toward his friend with a handful of shells.
"Maybe I should go find us some dinner." Frank could hear his own stomach growling and thought that Chet's was chiming in too. He really didn't want him to have to be the first one to bring up food. The sandy haired youth had gotten more than his share of teasing about his weight over the years, some of it good natured, some not so much. While Chet never said anything about it, Frank had certainly noticed that his prior pie wolfing tendencies had slowly given way over the last few football seasons. Chet wasn't skinny now by any stretch of the imagination, but previous bulk was definitely moving toward brawn.
"Yeah, I'm hungry too," Chet confirmed. "There was some sort of stand over by the pool. Want me to come and help carry everything?"
Frank nodded, brushing sand off his trunks as he stood before pulling a tan t-shirt over his head. "Um-hmm, it'll take both of us if we're going to bring enough for Joe."
They returned twenty minutes later to find that Joe and Biff were now lounging on the beach as well, their boards joining the other two. "You know, all those boards in a row facing out at the sea, reminds me of those statue thingies."
Statue thingies? Frank searched his mind for the reference, but came up blank. "What, Chet?"
Frank had to wait on his answer as Chet stopped to cough. "You know, because we're on an island. Those gigantic stone ones."
"You mean like Easter Island?"
"Yeah. I read all about those a few years ago when I tried out stone carving."
Now that Frank remembered. Chet hobby number six hundred and twenty-three, or something like that. That one lasted about three weeks, as best as Frank could recall.
"Guess they do sort of bring that to mind." Frank sat down beside his brother and started distributing packets.
Joe accepted a palm leaf wrapped bundle with a slight quirk of his lips. "No cheeseburgers?"
"Sure Joe, plenty of cheeseburgers, as long as you like yours made out of fish and rice." Frank couldn't hide a slight smirk. While Joe certainly ate more than he did, the elder brother was the more adventuresome of the pair when it came to foreign cuisine.
"So… what exactly am I eating?" Joe extracted a leaf wrapped roll of some sort from the package. He was fairly certain the green wrapping was kelp, and the rice was obvious. His tongue quickly identified the red dusting as ground hot pepper. The chopped meat inside, however, he wasn't so sure about. It wasn't plain old fish; that much was certain.
"Nervous about my selections, bro?" Frank knew that Biff was approaching his pouch a bit cautiously also, but decided not to comment on it. "It's shark, squid, and shrimp."
"And what, pray tell, made you think that was what I wanted for dinner?" Joe tried to look indignant, but the mischief that almost always lit his sapphire blue eyes was still evident.
"It's not your favorite?"
"Um, that would be 'no', Frank. Takes a lot of energy to be me and I'm not going to get it from steamed sea mash wrapped up in weeds."
Takes a lot of energy to keep up with you, too. Frank discarded the thought and returned to gently teasing his sibling. "Actually Joe, there are two things that made this the perfect dinner for you."
"Hmm." Joe gave the food another dubious glance. "Such as?"
"You didn't have to pay for it, and its all there is. The main restaurant is already closed."
The blonde boy shrugged his shoulders as he contemplated going hungry and popped the roll in his mouth. "In that case…"
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to be continued...