What starts out as a Spring Break spent helping their father solve a case soon turns into a dangerous confrontation with one of the biggest organized crime syndicates in Atlanta. Along the way, one of the Hardy boys will have to deal with a pain that no young boy should ever have to deal with... a pain that will either turn him into a man or destroy him forever.

A/N: In this story, Frank is 13, Joe is 12. I accept all reviews that offer comments or criticism, but I find flaming to be completely unnecessary. Don't forget, folks… this is fiction. If you don't like it, ignore me quietly.

Thanks, reviewers! You're awesome, as always! Keep it up, and I'll give you more chapters, lol!

Polaris

Fenton Hardy sighed as he entered the company building of his old friend. His trip out to Steinway's house had not produced any results, except for giving him time to clear his head from the dusty sublevel room. The company accountant had not been home, and Fenton knew better than to break in and look around. It would have been an unnecessary risk, and nothing he found could have been used in court anyways.

But, it had been nice to take a break. And who knew? Maybe his sons stumbled on something while he was gone. Fenton shook his head, chuckling to himself. It was more likely that he would go down and find them fast asleep on a pile of paper. He knew the job he had given them was less than exciting, but he had promised Laura he wouldn't give them anything too dangerous to do. And surely even Frank and Joe couldn't get into too much trouble if they stayed in the basement.

"Boys, I'm back!" he called as he stepped out of the elevator. "Did you-" Fenton stopped short as he realized that he was speaking to an empty room. "Frank? Joe?"

Fenton frowned, not happy. Why on earth had he assumed they would stay put? They must be wandering the building somewhere. Completely overlooking the note as just another scrap of paper that meant nothing, Fenton turned and headed back upstairs.

"Excuse me," he called, retracing Frank's footsteps towards the receptionist's desk. "Did you see where my sons went? Two young boys, one brunette and one blonde?"

"You missed them," the receptionist answered, still poring over the latest celebrity gossip. "They left about fifteen minutes ago."

"WHAT?" Fenton yelled, making the receptionist jump and look up for the first time in surprise. By the time her gaze fell upon where Fenton would had been standing, however, he was already gone.

In the storage garage, time seemed to stand still for the three occupants within. A short-lived but ominous silence fell over them, broken quickly by the two young Hardys.

"You're Steinway, aren't you?" Joe asked through clenched teeth at the man holding him.

"Let my brother go!" Frank yelled at the same time.

"How do you two know my name?" he demanded, narrowing his eyes at Frank. "Ah, you must Hardy's sons," he answered himself quickly. A grim smile crossed his face – a look that Frank didn't like at all. He ventured to take a step forward, wishing desperately that Steinway would take the knife away from Joe's throat.

"Hold it there, Hardy, or your brother dies!" Steinway yelled, tightening his grip on Joe. Joe grimaced in pain silently as the knife was dug harder into his neck. Frank froze immediately, terrified that the man would carry out his threat.

"Come on, Steinway," Frank said, giving his best impression of being calm. "You're not in it that deep yet." On a burst of inspiration, he added, "We already called the police from the cab. They're coming right behind us. So why don't you just let him go now?"

"Forget it," Steinway snarled. "If the police really are going to be here any minute, then you boys are my ticket out of here. I'll be damned if I'm going to jail!"

"You don't need both of us," Frank pointed out rationally. "Let Joe go, and I'll come."

Joe didn't dare speak or shake his head with the knife pressing in on his throat, but the flash in his eyes let Frank know exactly how he felt about that particular idea. It didn't matter; neither of the two really expected Steinway to go for the plan, but Frank had to try. Besides, they both knew Joe would have done the same.

The embezzler showed no signs of relinquishing his hold on Joe, however, so Frank cautiously started to move forward again.

"Hold it!" Steinway yelled, yanking himself and Joe backwards. The sudden movement caused the knife to slip, nicking Joe's throat and leaving a thin trail of blood. Frank winced as Joe gasped in pain, but he continued to move forward, holding his hands out placatingly and trying anxiously to think of what his father would do if he were in Frank's position.

"Come on, be smart about this," he urged Steinway. "Embezzling's a light term compared to kidnapping. Just let him go!"

For an instant, he thought Steinway was about to listen to him. He saw as the criminal's eyes flick swiftly from him to the door, then back down at Joe. A moment of hesitation stopped Steinway in his tracks.

A moment was all Joe needed.

Letting go of Steinway, Joe jerked his free arm forward, then sent his elbow slamming back into Steinway's gut. His captor doubled over, taken off guard by the sudden attack, which gave Joe enough time to slip out from his grip.

"Run, Joey!" Frank yelled, dashing forward to help. With an angry bellow, Steinway straightened back up and grabbed hold of Joe again before he could move away. As he saw Frank running towards him though, he threw the younger boy away from him to meet Frank's attack.

Frank didn't stop to see what had happened to Joe. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that his younger brother had hit a stack of crates which came tumbling down in a heap. He heard a cry of pain and knew that Joe had been hit by one of the heavy wooden crates, but there was nothing he could do to help as he and Steinway collided, wrestling for possession of the knife.

From the floor of the storage garage, Joe watched fearfully as Frank and the criminal grappled with each other, each trying to turn the knife on the other. He grunted and tried to pull himself up, determined to help, but he was pinned down by a box that had fallen onto his leg.

"Frank," he whispered, too scared to even find his voice. The flashing knife filled his vision, and he had a horrible mental image of the blade piercing his brother and taking Frank away from him.

Frank smiled grimly. It was obvious that Steinway was unused to using weapons. He was bigger, heavier, and much stronger than the teenager, but he was an accountant, not a fighter; he didn't have a clue what he was doing, and Frank did. Another flash, a yell, and a grunt of pain… Joe watched as Frank backed away, the knife now in his hand and a thin red line of blood trickling from a cut on Steinway's face.

Steinway roared in anger and charged at the young Hardy like a crazed rhinoceros. Frank's eyes opened wide in shock as he saw the enraged man flying towards him. In the heat of the moment, Frank's brain shut down to allow his reflexes to take over.

Deftly swinging his arm out and up to meet his adversary, Frank let out a yell and plunged the knife deep into Steinway's heart.

Time seemed to slow down. Steinway's eyes met Frank's, changing swiftly from anger to confusion, and, finally, to emptiness as the life flew from his body. His dead weight fell onto Frank and both of them crashed to the ground.

"Frank!" Joe yelled. "Frank!"

With an enormous effort, Frank managed to roll Steinway off of him and stumble back from him. There was no need; Steinway wouldn't be coming after either of them anymore. Frank could only stare, shocked and terrified, at the bloody knife that was protruding from Steinway's heart. He glanced down at his own hands and noticed that they were completely soaked in the petty criminal's blood.

"No!" he yelled, as the full realization set in. Forgetting that his brother still needed help, forgetting about everything else, Frank crawled back to Steinway's side and pressed his hands against the wound, trying to stem the blood that seeped forth. The warm, sticky blood gushed over his hands, coating them in a thick layer of bright red. This wasn't what he had wanted. He hadn't meant to kill the man.

"Frank!" Joe yelled again. "Frank, he's gone! There's nothing you can do!" When he saw that his brother was in no state to understand what he was saying, much less do anything to help, Joe turned his attention instead towards getting himself out.

Heaving against the heavy crate with all his strength, Joe managed to lift it high enough to slide himself out from under it. He tried to stand, but the box had smashed his leg into the floor, and he couldn't place any weight on it without it buckling beneath him. Crawling painfully over to Frank and Steinway, Joe tried to get his brother's attention.

"Frank, look at me!" the young boy cried. "Frank!" Joe tugged on his older brother's shoulder, but Frank never looked up from Steinway's dead body. "Frank!" Joe yelled, feeling himself growing more and more hysterical. The twelve year old didn't dare look at the dead body or he knew he would lose control.

Frank ignored him, keeping his hands pressed against the gaping hole in Steinway's chest. The blade had obviously severed a major blood vessel because the blood continued to spurt bright red liquid and his arms were now covered practically up to his elbows. And then, just as suddenly, there was no more. Frank noticed the change in pressure almost instinctively, and that was when he gave up.

Sitting back on the floor, Frank stared at the dead body – the body of the man he had killed – and started shaking, his breathing ragged and uneven. He rocked back and forth, finally managing to tear his gaze away from the corpse to look instead at his hands.

"F-Frank! Wh-why won't you help me?" little Joey cried, scared nearly out of his mind.

But for the first time in his life, Frank had managed to tune out the sound of his brother's voice completely. He could only sit, rocking back and forth and staring at his bloody hands with wide, brown eyes. He didn't even notice as Joe dragged himself to the other side of the body and dug through Steinway's pockets until he pulled out a cell phone.

With trembling fingers, Joe dialed his father's number, still trying not to look at Steinway's corpse. There was no more stopping the tears that coursed down his face. Joe had never been this scared before, not even when Steinway was holding a knife to his throat. He had Frank then, but it was Frank who was scaring him now. He had never seen his brother like this... and there was so much blood… Joe couldn't handle this.

"Hello?"

Joe nearly jumped as he heard his father's voice, filled with tension and worry. He couldn't stop himself from crying in earnest now.

"Hello?" Fenton asked again, hearing the sobs and fearing the worst. "Who's there?"

"Dad?" Joe choked out.

"Joey!" Fenton gasped. "Oh my God, Joe! Where are you? Are you alright? Is Frank there? Joey, what's wrong?"

"D-dad…" Joe sobbed, staring at his brother who was still staring at his hands, rocking back and forth. "S-something's wrong wi-with Frank…"

TBC