Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I'm not even sure I own these pants.
A/N: Good day, my lovelies. It would appear to be time for my seasonal update. I really must thank you all for putting up with my sporadic updating schedule with such patience and I'm so lucky to have such fabulous people reading my humble offerings! I've put a lot of thought into the direction I want the story to go and have planned my bum off so everything is underway…but slowly. As is my writing style. By the way, guys…your theories make me dance. Keep them coming! I want so badly to tell you what is going on so that you can gasp and dance with me but alas…that is not how writing works. So I thank you again for your patience! Thank you to VerityD, Cupcake, KennaC, Stork Hardy, Kickin'it, Reader277, Jabba1, Colie88, j, FreshKicks and the three Guest reviewers for reviewing!
The brothers stared down at the picture in Frank's hand in silence. The leaves in the yard blew past them in a tumble of wind, sticking to their legs and then disappearing behind them. A cool sun beat down on them from a sky smeared with white clouds. Somewhere down the road, a child on a bicycle wreaked havoc on their bell. Things kept moving around them, but Joe felt frozen in the moment.
"Well then," he breathed, shoving his hands into his pockets. He inhaled crisp air and held it, raising his eyebrows at Frank. His older brother continued staring at the picture, his eyes tracing over the image as if memorizing its every detail.
"I don't…know," Frank huffed, clutching the photo in his hand. He should have been staring at the man in the picture, but he couldn't take his eyes off of Nancy. Her face was radiant, all flushed and happy. But the more he stared at her, the more evident it became: Nancy's eyes, which should have been as exuberant as the rest of her, were fierce. It was something Frank missed. Nancy knew something. Nancy was lying.
"Look at her face," Frank told his brother, shoving the picture into his hand. He watched as Joe's eyes scanned the photo, stopping briefly on her face before looking up.
"She knew something," Joe blurted incredulously. "I can't describe how I know, but her eyes…"
"She knew something," Frank confirmed, taking back the photo and folding it carefully before placing it in his pocket. "We need to find out who this is."
The brothers began walking out of Nancy's yard and down the street, their footsteps falling into a hurried rhythm. Joe scoffed.
"Do we really?" he asked loudly, his face disbelieving. "It's clearly David!"
"Clearly," Frank replied carefully, looking straight ahead, "it appears to be David. But this guy is blond and we can't afford to jump to conclusions."
"I like jumping to conclusions," Joe grumbled, furrowing his brow. "You've got to admit that there is something weird about him, Frank. Him and Cecelia. There's something…"
"Off," Frank finished, nodding his head slowly. He had been thinking the exact same thing ever since they had seen the couple at the funeral. "I know. But we need to be careful about this."
Joe sighed and nodded his head in resignation. The brothers walked in silence down the street for a few moments before Joe turned to look at his brother again. He examined Frank's serious profile with careful consideration. Everything about the conversation they had just had was so reminiscent of the Frank he knew.
"So," Joe started slowly, clearing his throat. Frank turned to look at him. "How are you?" Frank considered the question for a moment, and Joe felt inexplicably nervous.
"Well," Frank began, his voice devoid of emotion, "I don't really know…"
His words trailed off and Joe felt a pang in his chest.
"You can talk to me, Frank," Joe told him seriously. Frank stared at the ground as if willing it to move faster beneath his feet. "Everything you are feeling about Nancy, I'm feeling too." Frank barked a mirthless laugh, startling Joe enough to stop him in his tracks. When Frank looked back, his eyes closed in pain at the expression on his brother's face.
"What?" Joe demanded, taking long strides towards him. "You don't think that I miss Nancy too?"
"Joe…" Frank groaned, running a hand over his face. "I don't want you to think that."
"Then why did you laugh?" Joe spat, his voice harsh but his face hurt and confused. "I miss her so much, Frank. She was my best friend."
"I know," Frank replied softly, looking down. "I'm sorry. It just came out of nowhere."
"You can't keep using that as an excuse," Joe said sadly, continuing forwards. "I know something is bothering you and if you don't want to tell me, then that is up to you. But I just want to see you smile again."
Frank walked in silence beside his brother, trying to keep his face neutral. There was no possible way he could think of to tell Joe what he had done; what he was feeling. He would call him a monster. He'd probably beat the crap out of him. His little brother, who once idolized him, would never look at him the same way again.
"Actually," Frank began, not daring to look at Joe, "there is something." Joe looked up hopefully at his brother.
"What is it?" he replied, trying to control his voice.
"There was something else in Nancy's room," Frank told him, picking up his pace and pretending not to notice the disappointed droop in Joe's shoulder. "Something else by the window."
"Well?" Joe sighed, not caring about if Frank saw how annoyed he was with his discretion. Frank coughed and looked away, before surprising Joe by looking him straight in the eye. He was trying to be impassive, but he could see his older brother's gaze waver.
"On the windowsill," Frank told him. "Someone carved my initials."
"F.H.?" Joe asked, raising his eyebrows. "I don't know if that is so suspicious, Frank."
"Why not?" he demanded, his voice wavering. Joe rolled his eyes.
"It could have been Nancy," Joe pointed out, rubbing his cold hands together. "Maybe she had a thing for you." There was no ignoring the tension in Frank's shoulders as he said that. Joe observed his brother carefully, waiting for any given movement to give away his thoughts. But, to his distress, Frank regained control of his emotions. Joe cringed at the falsity of his brother's laugh.
"N-Nancy wasn't like that," Frank responded in an attempt at casual. "Besides, Joe…it was fresh. Like someone had just done it. Shavings and all."
"That's a little strange," Joe allowed. The boys turned the corner at a more leisurely pace. "I guess that means that they know we're onto them."
"But who is they?" Frank questioned helplessly. "We have no idea who it could be."
"That's the mystery, my dear brother," Joe sighed again, slinging an arm over his brother's shoulder. Frank grimaced and pulled away from him, but Joe was relieved to see a small smile gracing his brother's face. The brothers continued walking in comfortable silence for a few moments before Frank stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk.
"What is it?" Joe asked, looking around. Frank tilted his head towards his brother and squinted his eyes.
"Where are we going?" Frank questioned, putting his hands on his hips. "I've been following you."
Joe shrugged innocently. Frank took a step towards him, his eyes narrowing further.
"I'm not blind, Joe. I can see David's bookstore in front of us," he continued, smirking slightly. "What happened to being careful?"
"What could be more careful than nonchalantly pursuing a fine selection of books?" Joe offered casually, continuing forwards and giving Frank a sidelong look. "It's just an acceptable coincidence that David happens to own a bookstore."
"Right," Frank snorted, falling back into step with his brother.
"Hey," Joe countered, nudging Frank with his elbow, "it doesn't hurt just to check the place out, does it? It isn't like we're going to give him the third degree."
"Sure…" Frank replied hesitantly, giving his brother a pointed look as they crossed the street.
"I promise, Frank," Joe enunciated, placing a hand on his heart, "I give you my solemn vow that I will say nary a word concerning anything other than books."
The brothers approached the storefront slowly. Frank exhaled a quiet laugh.
"I believe it," Frank told him sincerely. Joe could barely raise his eyebrows before he continued. "I believe you won't, because you won't be talking to him at all. It's closed."
"What?" Joe cried, pressing his hands against the glass door. "I have literary needs, David!"
Frank rolled his eyes and tugged gently on the sleeve of Joe's jacket. "You're going to leave a mark."
"Of course you would care about that," Joe scoffed, pulling away from the window and glancing back with a look of disdain. "What now?"
Frank shrugged before glancing down the street. "Feel like getting some coffee?"
Joe gave him a questioning look, but trailed behind Frank curiously. "How is that a strategic move in the development of this case, exactly?"
"Well, I heard the coffee is really great at this one place," Frank replied, leading Joe down the empty sidewalk.
"Is it Starbucks, by chance?" Joe joked, glancing at the storefronts. One thing he loved about River Heights was that everything was so quaint. "Because I think I've heard of them once or twice."
"Nah," Frank said casually. "It's just this little bakery down the block." Joe almost laughed out loud.
"Cecelia's bakery?" he grinned, glancing at Frank out of the corner of his eye. "What happened to Mr. Careful?"
"Hey now," Frank responded seriously. "I don't see her in the picture."
"Point taken," Joe chuckled, reaching out to open the door for his brother as they approached. No sooner than the he had grabbed the handle did the tantalizing smell of baked goods intoxicate him. Joe inhaled and subsequently emitted a small moan of desire. Frank looked at him and sighed, giving him a pointed look.
"You literally just ate," Frank reminded him. Joe shrugged.
"It's been an exciting morning," Joe replied, eyes widening at the plethora of treats displayed before him. "I need to increase my intake of food in order to cope."
Frank, in an attempt to ignore his brother, charged forward to the counter. The young lady behind the glass smiled up at him.
"How can I help you today?" she asked sweetly, adjusting her flour-streaked apron.
"Hi," Frank replied, leaning on the counter. "We were just in the neighborhood and we were wondering if Cecelia is in today."
The girl looked behind her in response. "I think she's in the back room. Do you want me to go get her?"
"That would be great," Joe piped in, nudging Frank out of the way. "But may I ask what you are making there? It smells divine."
The girl looked at Frank, who shook his head. "Ignore him."
"Come on, Frank," Joe interjected, leaning on the counter. "We all know that ignoring me is neither something she can nor wants to do." He winked at the girl.
With a small giggle, she disappeared into the back room, leaving Frank and Joe alone.
Frank rolled his eyes and looked at Joe, who shrugged his shoulders innocently.
"I'm really hungry, Frank," Joe told his earnestly.
"That must be some sort of prostitution," Frank told him blandly, looking away from him. "Selling yourself for some bread."
"My life is just one long show of Les Misérables," Joe replied dramatically, looking up suddenly as footsteps approached. Cecelia looked at the brothers curiously.
"Hey," she said slowly, putting on a small smile. "What brings you here?"
"We've heard the legend of the coffee," Frank replied, smiling with as much charm as possible, "and we couldn't resist." Cecelia smiled more earnestly.
"I'll get you some," she replied, turning her back towards them. Joe tried to release some tension from his shoulders. Their last meeting hadn't been pleasant, but she didn't appear to be holding it against him. Or, at least, she didn't seem to want to let Frank in on it.
"How is David?" Joe asked casually, picking a string off of his shirt. "We went to check out the bookstore today but it wasn't open." Cecelia nodded as she grabbed some mugs.
"He doesn't usually open until twelve on Sundays," she replied, turning around and placing the steaming cups on the counter. "It's only been open for about a month, so he's still trying to figure things out."
"That's a shame," Frank told her, grabbing one of the cups gently and reaching into his pocket for his wallet. She shook her head.
"It's on me," she told him. "Friends of Nancy and all that jazz." Frank looked up at her. Her tone seemed genuinely friendly, but there was something hard in her eyes.
"Well, thank you," he said quietly. Joe nodded his thanks as well, reaching out for the other cup. There was a moment of silence between the three before Joe looked at her sincerely.
"So, how long have you and David been together for?" he asked, trying not to sound like the question was forced. Cecelia considered the question.
"About two and a half years, I suppose," she told him. "But we've been friends for much longer."
"Where did you guys meet?" Frank asked, taking a sip of the coffee and burning his mouth slightly. Cecelia gave a small smile.
"New York," she replied, busying herself by continuing the dough her employee had been working on. "That's where we lived up until a few weeks ago."
"I love New York," Joe nodded, taking a sip of his own coffee, internally damning himself for liking it. "Did you work in a bakery there?" She nodded again, throwing some flour on the counter.
"That's how I met David," she replied, looking up at him. "I worked in a bakery, he was in the bookstore next door; it was that kind of romantic comedy crap. But it's so hard to make it in the City, and River Heights has always seemed like home to me, so we made the decision to come back a few months ago."
"It must have been nice to be around family again," Frank replied. "Especially since you and Nancy were so close." Cecelia smiled tightly and continued kneading.
"It's just a shame that you didn't get to spend more time with her," Joe piped in, staring down into his coffee. After a moment of silence, he peered at her through his eyelashes. She was pressing her lips together tightly and staring down into the dough. Joe was certain that she was ready to lash out at him again, but instead she spoke quietly:
"It really was terrible."
Frank nodded, his eyebrows drawing together.
"But at least you had David to help you through it," he offered, leaning forwards on the counter. Cecelia inhaled shakily and nodded.
"Thank God," she replied, finally looking up at them. Her forehead was creased. "It would have been just awful otherwise."
"Did he know Nancy well?" Joe asked her. Cecelia glanced at him quickly before looking back down at the dough.
"They only met once," she shrugged. "But they really hit it off. I remember thinking how great it was going to be, all three of us as friends. It didn't really work out that way."
"I'm sorry," Joe said softly. "It must have been hard." Cecelia nodded, wiping her hands on her apron.
"I hate to seem like I don't want to talk," she told them, "but I've got a lot of work to do today and I just can't deal with it if I start crying again." The brothers nodded quickly, straightening up. Frank glanced at Joe; he could tell his brother felt terrible.
"Sorry to have bothered you," Joe apologized, placing his empty mug back on the counter. Cecelia shook her head.
"Don't be sorry," she replied, grabbing the mugs and putting them in the sink behind her. "I know that you guys meant a lot to Nancy, so it was nice to finally get to talk to you a bit."
The brothers nodded in silence.
"I guess we will be seeing you around," Frank said, raising his hand in goodbye. Cecelia nodded, wiping her hands on her apron. The Hardy's turned towards the door. Frank pushed it open for his brother, but when he turned around, Joe was back at the counter.
"We, uh," he started awkwardly, fishing around in his pocket, "found this picture at Nancy's house." He placed it on the counter timidly, looking over his shoulder at Frank.
"I know what you are thinking," she started, her eyes turning hard, "but that isn't David."
"It just looks an awful lot like him," Frank replied hurriedly, stepping away from the door and swiping the photo off of the counter. Cecelia shrugged.
"Sure," she replied, beginning to walk away. "But I know what you are implying, and I would suggest that you stop." With that, she disappeared into the back room. The brothers stared at each other guiltily before walking out.
"Well," Joe said loudly as they stepped onto the street. "That conversation took a turn rather quickly." Frank nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets.
"I can't tell if I buy it or not," he told Joe, who nodded.
"She definitely got a little cranky when she saw that photo," he pointed out.
"Which is understandable, considering she knows what we are accusing her boyfriend of," Frank replied, raising his eyebrows.
"There was not a single accusation in that exchange," Joe told him as they rounded the corner. "It was very pleasant in my opinion."
"Sure," Frank told him. "Definitely in my top ten list of conversations that were definitely not awkward." A beat passed.
"It was a little awkward," Joe admitted, using his fingers to indicate how minuscule the degree of awkwardness was. "But that may have been because of the last interaction I had with her."
"At the funeral?" Frank asked, looking at his brother. Joe shook his head guiltily.
"In front of the motel," he confessed, pulling together his brows. "I may have been very accusatory then." Frank sighed.
"Joe," he groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Why?"
"I was following a hunch!" Joe replied, raising his hands. "It was interesting, to say the least." Frank exhaled loudly again.
"Well, what-." He was cut off by his phone ringing obnoxiously in his pocket. After giving Joe a look that suggested that the conversation was not over, he glanced at the screen: it was Callie. Frank's heart dropped slightly. He had barely spoken to her since he left. Joe peered at the screen.
"What?" he asked his brother with confusion. "Aren't you going to answer it?"
Frank nodded and cleared his throat.
"Hello?" He answered, looking away from Joe.
"Hey," she replied, sounding surprised to hear his voice. "Hey. I, uh, I didn't know if I was going to be able to reach you. You've been missing a lot of my calls."
"I've been busy," Frank replied, his voice guilty. He could feel Joe's eyes on him and he stared at his feet as he walked.
"Are you doing alright?" she asked him, and he could picture her curled up on their couch, wrapped up in her favourite blanket. "I've been so worried."
"I'm doing the best I can," he replied honestly, feeling the pit in his stomach open up and fill with guilt. "It's not easy."
"I know, baby," Callie replied softly. "Just…don't forget that I am here for you. For anything."
"I know," he answered, swallowing hard. "I know that."
"Are you coming home soon?" she asked hopefully. "The house is really empty without you. I miss you a lot." Frank sighed.
"I hope so," he told her. "I mean, we've got to get things sorted out here first. I can't leave until we do."
"I understand," she told him quietly. "I mean, it's just hard without you here. There is so much stuff going on with all of the wedding plans. I don't want to make any decisions without you, so it's been tough…" Frank's stomach turned, and his stomach twinge in annoyance.
"Callie," he said harshly, "I don't really have time to think about the wedding right now. My best friend is dead."
"I didn't mean that—," Callie spoke up, her voice sounding shocked. Frank's annoyance suddenly turned to anger and he stopped dead in his tracks. How could she be concerned about the wedding when Nancy was dead?
"God, Callie, could you be more inconsiderate? Do you really think I want to be talking about what kind of flowers we should get right after I saw Nancy's coffin? You think it's tough planning a wedding? Well, it is a hell of a lot tougher to watch someone you care about get buried."
"I know, Frank, I didn't mean it like that," Callie rushed, her voice sounding teary. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it."
"Of course you didn't," Frank barked. "This is a really hard time for me, Callie; I don't have time for this crap."
"I know!" she cried. "But guess what, Frank? It's hard for me, too."
With a choked sound, Callie hung up, leaving Frank staring at the phone in his hand. He looked up, and felt his stomach drop at the sight of Joe's face. His brother was staring at him with a look of pure rage, his mouth hanging open in shock.
"What the hell, Frank?" he asked quietly and Frank recognized his tone as deadly. The elder Hardy chewed on his bottom lip. "Where do you get off thinking that you can talk to her like that?"
"Joe," Frank started, his face falling.
"No," Joe interrupted, shoving Frank's shoulder. "What the crap is wrong with you? You've been acting ridiculous ever since we got here. Crying one minute, quiet the next and now yelling at Callie. This isn't you! What is going on?"
"Joe, this is really hard on me," Frank pleaded, looking around at the empty street. "I don't want to do this here."
"No, we are doing this here," Joe told him, taking a step closer to him. "If we don't do this here, I know that we aren't ever going to do this. I can't keep acting like I don't notice something is wrong with you. Your attitude has been unbelievable. This is hard on everyone, Frank, not just you! You are delusional if you think that you are the only one hurting!"
"Please," Frank begged, unable to get out any more words. He felt sick to his stomach thinking about what he had just said to Callie. He knew that he had been wrong and he knew that he was being an ass, but what he was feeling…he didn't know how to deal with it.
"No, Frank," Joe retorted, feeling anger building up inside him again. "I'm sick of this. You're acting like you are the one who shot her! Tell me what is going on. Now."
"Joe," Frank croaked and with that, Joe saw more pain reflected in his brother's face than he ever had before. Joe opened his mouth to speak and closed it again. The air between them was intense. Joe swallowed hard.
"You loved Nancy," Joe said quietly, looking at his feet. Frank felt his stomach turn and his eyes widen. "Did you, Frank? Were you in love with Nancy?"
Frank didn't answer, instead looking down at the street in pain. Joe grabbed his shoulders and shook his slightly.
"Did you have feelings for her?" Joe demanded quietly, his throat throbbing. "God, do you even love Callie?"
"Of course," Frank replied quietly, his voice breaking. "God, of course I love Callie." Joe shut his eyes in relief.
"Then why would you talk to her like that?" Joe demanded, exhaling shakily.
"I don't know," Frank moaned, backing away from his brother and putting his head in his hands. "I mean, I love Callie, but Nancy…I've always…thought about being with her. What it would be like. But now she's dead, Joe. She's dead and we weren't talking when she died…and knowing that is actually, physically killing me. I don't know what to do."
Joe, stomach in knots, stared at his brother, feeling the pain radiating off of him. Frank looked so hurt and so lost that it made him want to cry.
"I'm sorry, Frank," Joe told him, shaking his head. "I mean, Iknew you had a thing for her. I'm just…I'm sorry." Taking long strides, Joe walked over to his brother and hugged him tightly. To his immense relief, Frank hugged him back.
"I'm sorry," Frank mumbled, squeezing his brother. "I'm being an ass. I wasn't with Nancy. I'm with Callie. I made the decision to be with Callie and I don't know why I am letting this affect me so much."
"It's okay," Joe replied, pulling away. "I understand. Just…remember that. I loved Nancy, too. We're all dealing with this in different ways."
Frank nodded, his head aching. He knew Joe was right. He knew he loved Callie.
"I'm going to call her back," Frank said silently. Joe nodded, giving him a small smile. Frank walked away, staring down at the phone in his hand with intensity. Joe exhaled deeply and rubbed his eyes. His hands felt shaky. The emotional intensity of the past few days was rubbing off on him. He watched as Frank wandered down the sidewalk with sadness, but was startled as his own phone began to ring.
"Wrong number, Frank," Joe called, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Frank, phone pressed to his ear, looked over his shoulder with his brows creased and shook his head. Looking down at the screen, Joe couldn't help but smile when he saw that it was Bess.
"Well, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Joe answered, shoving his free hand into his jacket pocket and shuffling his feet. "Have I won the lottery?"
"If that is the attitude you're going to have, this is going to be a very disappointing phone call," Bess replied. Joe grinned at his feet.
"What's up?" he asked, looking up to see Frank heading back towards him, not looking very happy.
"George and I wanted to know if you guys wanted to stop by for dinner tonight," Bess answered, her voice even but not nearly as enthusiastic as what Joe was used to hearing from her. "We were thinking about Chinese."
"Well, I could always eat," Joe told her earnestly, looking at Frank. 'Dinner,' he mouthed to his brother, who nodded.
"That is what I thought," Bess said with a small chuckle. "Think you will be hungry around six?"
"I can tell you with the utmost honestly that I'm hungry right now," Joe started, "but I suppose I can survive until six."
"Perfect," Bess replied. A beat passed. "I've really wanted to talk to you guys. Not just about Nancy, but in general."
"We've missed you, too," Joe told her honestly, sighing sadly. "We'll see you at six." With that, he hung up and turned back to Frank.
"No luck with Callie?" he asked. A wave of sadness washed over him as Frank shook his head no. "Just give her some time."
"I shouldn't have yelled," Frank said, shaking his head. "It's my fault."
"I'm sure she understands, Frank," Joe replied, wrapping an arm around his brother's shoulders. "She'll call you back."
"I hope so," Frank nodded, his shoulders drooping. He felt like a complete idiot. As the brothers walked side by side, Frank could feel the weight of his decisions bearing down on him again, pressing in on every crevice of his body in a way that was smothering. He had hurt Nancy, and now he was hurting Callie. Shaking his head slightly, Frank bit back the urge to scream. He was supposed to be the level-headed brother, the one who was reliable and logical. Feeling so out of control with emotion was foreign to him and, the more he experienced it, the less he liked it.
Frank glanced over at Joe, wondering if his brother could see the emotions written on his face, but was surprised to see that he had taken a seat on a bench. Raising his eyebrows, he walked back towards him.
"I was wondering when you would notice you were taking a romantic stroll by yourself," Joe grinned up at him, arms crossed over his chest. Frank rolled his eyes.
"What are you doing?" he asked impatiently, glaring down at him. Joe gestured towards the bench.
"Sit," he requested, scooting over. Frank scoffed.
"No," he replied. "Joe, I just want to lie down. I feel like I've been awake since Thursday. Please, just get up."
"Not until you sit down," Joe said in a sing-song voice. Frank rolled his eyes again and fell back onto the bench.
"You're so juvenile," he told his brother, shaking his head. "Can we leave now, or have you grown some sort of emotional attachment to this bench?"
"Look around," Joe said wistfully, leaning back. "Don't you know where we are?" Frank looked up and down the street.
"Yeah, I do," he replied. "We're freezing our asses off on a park bench. This is really moving for me, too." Joe shook his head.
"Come on, Frank. You have no idea?" Joe demanded, smiling softly. Frank shook his head again, his face irritated. "Let me set the scene for you: a warm, summer day…two bright young lads on the heels of adventure—one of them particularly attractive and always hilarious…driving down the street, hot in what they thought was the pursuit of a mass-murderer…"
Frank gave his brother an incredulous look, but then something clicked. He glanced in front of him again and his face fell.
"This is where we met Nancy," Frank said, almost to himself. "You crashed that stupid rental car into hers."
"That car," Joe said quietly, "was a masterpiece. The person who picked it out must have been a genius. But yeah, you're right."
The brothers sat in silence for a moment.
"I really miss her, Frank," Joe said, his voice small. He leaned forwards so that his elbows were resting on his knees. Frank nodded, his throat feeling tight.
"I know," he replied, sounding equally as pained.
"We've got to do this," Joe spoke up, looking at Frank. "We seriously need to kick some ass or I'm going to lose it. We've got to find out who did this."
Frank looked at his brother and Joe was somewhat surprised at how fierce his eyes were.
"I agree," he said firmly. "We owe it to her." Joe smiled at his brother sadly before standing up.
"Come on," Joe said, pulling his brother to his feet. "We've got work to do."
A/N: Loooooong long chapter of rapid-fire emotion changes. I know that I usually have 'scene breaks' in my chapters, so to speak, but it just didn't turn out that way. I finally let Frank release some emotions, but don't think I've shot the elephant in the room yet. Ohh, no no…that is yet to come.
Also, in case you were wondering I shamelessly plugged my own story of how the boys met Nancy. It was written five (WHAT) years ago, when I was young and impressionable. Read it if you would like to see how I have matured, or to induce vomiting. Viewer discretion.
Finally, I will HOPEFULLY have another chapter up soon (but I know none of you take my promises seriously anymore) so keep your fingers crossed that all goes well. Thank you again!
Reviews?
