Author's Note: Okay, so... this one feels off to me, but then again, my cold moved into my sinuses and has made breathing painful all day. Work was horrible. My judgment is compromised. I have no beta (I'm not sure I can work with them, I'm this bad mess of neurosis and insecurity mixed with impatience) so if it's wrong, it's my fault. If it works, it's also my fault but likely a fluke.

And no, I am not trying to vilify Ned. His behavior has reasons. Just wait and see.

Here is a bit of irony... The final scene of this chapter was originally the first scene I ever wrote for this story, back when I conceptualized it. It's been edited over a few times now since I changed things around, but it's interesting that it took more than 20,000 words to get to it.

And I noticed that the reviews were working, but I figured people would enjoy having more story rather than my responses, so I prioritized that instead. I will do some responses now that I've updated, though.

Convergence and Confrontation

"Nancy."

"My head hurts like someone bashed me over it with a rock. Joe, I am never drinking with you again," Nancy muttered, reaching her fingers up to her head. This hangover was brutal, the worst she'd ever known, not that she was a big drinker.

"I didn't think Hardy was old enough to drink legally."

"He's only a year younger than me and Frank," Nancy said, blinking as she took in who was in her room. That was not Joe. And she was not hungover, though the bright lights and hospital white did not make her head feel any better.

It had been bashed in by a rock.

"Ah, there it is," Ned said, giving her a half-smile. She could see how forced it was, how he wasn't pleased by what prompted it. "Now you remember what happened. You've caught up to the real reason you're waking up in a strange place with strangers around you."

Nancy groaned. "You are not a stranger. Just because things have been tense between us does not mean that we are strangers. Please. My head aches, and I don't want to fight. I don't even—I remember him hitting me with a rock, but I thought that was it."

"That you had died?"

She grimaced. She'd been close. She knew that. She wasn't superwoman, and she'd been beaten in that fight. He could have killed her if he'd continued to hit her with that rock, bashing her skull in. She should be dead. "I thought I was going to, yes. I don't understand. What happened?"

"I did."

She blinked. "What?"

Ned nodded, though he didn't seem too happy about what he was about to tell her. "I was at the desk to register when I changed my mind and came after you. I didn't know that there was any point to staying when we were fighting, so I came to make things right first. Then I heard breaking branches and someone cursing. I followed that to where you were. I managed to knock him off of you, and he ran. I... I didn't chase him. I stayed with you."

Nancy probably would have ran after leather jacket herself. That just went to show how different she was from Ned. He'd thought of her safety and well-being first and foremost, whereas she had thought only of a killer escaping.

"Well?" Ned asked, and she frowned at him. "Aren't you going to ask me if I got a good look at him before he got away?"

She shook her head, wincing when the pain intensified again. "No. I... I got a pretty good look at him myself—him and the man he killed."

Ned watched her, and she found her fingers twisting in the fabric of her sheets, uncomfortable. She didn't know why she found his look so unsettling, but she did. "So... he killed that man before he came after you? Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes." Nancy didn't understand why that was in question. She would have thought it would be obvious. "I... I saw him kill the man in the suit. He... They argued, the one died, and my phone went off, telling him I was there. I ran, we fought, he won. That's where you apparently came in. Why would you think that he tried to kill me and then killed someone else?"

"Well, when you say it, it sounds ridiculous."

She forced herself to stay calm. It was difficult in the face of her raging headache and his strange behavior. "Why would you think he was after me?"

"It's what Joe Hardy seemed to think."

"You do realize that breaking the speed limit doesn't actually make us reach our destination that much faster. I can show you the math," Frank said, and Joe almost smacked him. He didn't want to think that Frank had somehow become cold-blooded. He had to care, but he wasn't acting much like it right now.

"Nancy's in trouble. You heard Ned."

Frank's grip on the door handle was white. "I know Nancy's in trouble, but Ned said he was getting her an ambulance and her attacker was gone. So unless you think that Ned is lying, that Nancy is already dead or something at his hands—in which case no amount of speed is going to make a difference—you don't need to get us killed trying to get to her. We won't make it there in time to change anything. That's a fact. We're still too far away. All the dangerous driving in the world is not going affect what happens to Nancy now—it will only decide whether or not we die trying to get there."

"You know—I almost want to say that you don't care."

"You're just doing that because you're angry," Frank told him. "You're helpless to do anything for Nancy. We weren't there when she was attacked, and we can't get there now. So you're frustrated and taking it out on the road, trying to convince yourself that you can get us there faster, but the truth is... You're going to get us into an accident or pulled over, neither of which is going to make us reach her faster. I know you won't be okay until you see her with your own eyes, but you need to slow the car down."

Joe shook his head, changing lanes. "Trust you to mix something that sounds all logical in with your speech, but it still sounds to me like you don't care."

"Joe, damn it, did you manage to forget that the last time I was in a car going this fast, it wasn't exactly by my choice? I should be so lucky as to sound calm instead of screaming in a hysterical panic. If you really want, I can start in on what Zollner did after driving like a maniac, but if you want me to think about Nancy and not about what that psychopath did, you need to slow the damn car down."

Joe eased off the accelerator. He had forgotten about that. He shouldn't have, but then Frank liked to gloss over how Zollner had managed to abduct him and what happened whenever he could. He was a lot more willing to talk about what happened with Callie, and that was still difficult.

"I'm sorry, Frank. I forgot."

Frank eased his grip off the handle, folding his hands in his lap. "I have a hundred and one triggers. I don't expect you to have them all memorized. I didn't even think it was an issue until you wouldn't slow down. I... Zollner wanted me afraid before he even started, that was why I was awake during that drive... I don't... I'm not fine. And it's not that I don't care. I just have to believe that Ned was telling the truth and Nancy will be fine. Do you understand that?"

Joe nodded. He did. He could have made some joke about the power of positive thinking, but he didn't. He knew Frank was right. He needed to believe that Nancy was fine because the way Frank's mind worked these days, the horrors he'd picture, the possibilities with Zollner and the things he did to people, the things he'd done to Callie... No, Frank really wouldn't be able to handle that being Nancy, not another friend, not someone he cared about. This could shut him down and send him back into seclusion in his room and his mind.

"Okay. Fine. I need something else I can do, then."

Frank snorted. "You idiot. You're driving. That's enough."

"Not when we're not close enough. It can't be."

Frank sighed. "You did what you could. You told Nancy there was a threat—yes, I know you've been saying you didn't tell her enough over text, but there are some things you just don't say over text messages. Explaining Zollner is one of them. We don't even know that Nancy's attack is connected to Zollner. Ned didn't know who hurt her. He didn't recognize that man. We need to talk to Nancy herself. That is what we will do as soon as we get there."

"I don't know how to stay calm while I'm waiting. You know me."

"Yes. I do."

"You're not helping."

Frank stopped to think. "Well, there is always starting in on Ninety-Nine bottles of beer."

Joe almost stomped on the gas just to spite him. "That is not funny. And now I have that song stuck in my head. I think I hate you."

"You're not thinking about Nancy now, are you?"

As another chorus of the song passed through Joe's head, he grumbled, refusing to admit that Frank was right—though he was definitely willing to admit his brother was evil.

"I'm not sure which is worse, to be honest," Nancy said to Joe as he came into the room, gesturing to her forehead. "This or drinking with you."

Joe laughed, taking over the chair next to her hospital bed. Ned didn't seem pleased that he took it, but she was just glad to see Joe again. She'd seen relief wash over him the moment he got in the door, and it was good to see him smile and hear that laughter in person. She'd been missing both of those things. It had been too long since she'd seen the Hardys, but even on the phone, Joe was too worried to do much laughing. Now he was grinning, like the Joe she knew, and Nancy felt confident that things would get better from here—even if they did get a little worse along the way.

"And yet Frank was the one that managed to drink us both under the table that night. It was like he didn't even feel it," Joe said, almost getting lost in the memories. He leaned back in the chair, shaking his head. "It's always the quiet ones. They surprise you."

Especially when they confess they just had another fight with their girlfriend and think it's over this time for good, Nancy thought. Joe had passed out before that point. Frank had blocked that part of the conversation out by the morning and said things were fine with him and Callie. And as far as Nancy knew, they had been—or Frank really would have blamed himself when she was taken. No, he was safe from that—he hadn't started investigating Zollner until after Joe's infamous party.

Would it have spared Callie, Nancy sometimes wondered, if she had split from Frank before Frank's path connected with Zollner's? Or would the outcome have been the same, with Zollner determined to use anyone he could against Frank?

"Speaking of surprises," Nancy said, raising her hand and gesturing toward Joe, wanting to think about other things. Ned didn't seem very happy with the current direction of their conversation. She'd have to redirect it. "You, here. Now. That is a surprise."

Joe snorted. "It wouldn't have been if you'd taken my calls. I had a lot to discuss with you, and I would have told you then that I'd managed to get Frank out of the house and in the car. We were on the road when I finally got a hold of Ned on your phone. A minor change of destination, and here we are."

"We?"

Joe glanced toward Ned and smiled, though Nancy knew better. The "we" Joe meant was him and Frank, though why Frank wasn't here when Joe was, she didn't know. "So... when do they bust you out of here?"

Ned grunted. Nancy tried not to be bothered by his reaction. She knew he wasn't happy about her plans or the one the police had suggested, and he wasn't shy about saying so. She didn't know what she was going to do now, since she hadn't managed to do anything about their other rift yet. "Actually, Joe, the police want me to stay longer. They're hoping to catch this guy while he thinks he's safe because I'm not awake yet."

"You're kidding."

Nancy had been surprised by the request as well. "No, but I'm actually hoping it works. Their other option was protective custody, and if that happens, I won't be able to do anything."

"And this is one you have to solve yourself?" Ned demanded, almost angrily. "You're a witness. Just let them do their part and find this guy. You do yours when you testify."

"Ned—"

"Forget it. I should have remembered who I was talking to," Ned snapped, leaving the room, and Nancy put her hand back to her head. She didn't want to have that conversation again, and not in front of Joe. This was such a mess.

"Ned wants me to leave it alone. He's worried," Nancy said. She sighed. "I think he has as good a reason as any, but... I saw that man. I can't forget what he did, and I can't sit back and do nothing. That's not who I am, not who I will ever be."

Joe nodded. "I know. I'm not so sure Nickerson gets that, though."

She almost buried her head in her hands. "Ned had just gotten around to saying he was afraid to look at our relationship because he didn't want to lose me when the police showed up."

"Talk about lousy timing."

"Yeah," she agreed with a sigh. "I don't know how to fix this."

"Don't look at me. I am so not the right person for relationship advice." Joe grinned, though, in spite of his words. "I do think I can help a bit with your case, though."

Nancy managed a smile of her own. That was the Joe Hardy she knew and loved.

Frank knocked gently on the door. At her call, he opened it and stepped inside. He had expected worse, and though he'd been relieved just knowing that she was awake. She even appeared fine, other than the bandage on her forehead and her weary expression. No one looked good in a hospital gown, but Nancy managed to seem better than most—if only because she wasn't more than half-dead.

And because Frank couldn't help comparing her to the image of Callie in a similar position, the way she'd been hurt, all the bandages and bruises and machines keeping her alive—sometimes he thought if they hadn't, it would have been a kindness, but he hated himself for it.

He forced himself forward, not willing to dwell on Callie, not now. He touched his fingers to the flowers from Bess as he passed close to the bed. She'd picked things that were bright and cheery, though Frank wasn't sure that was the right choice for someone who'd almost been killed.

Flowers weren't exactly something he found comforting anymore.

He cleared his throat as he reached the bed. "Hey."

"That all you got, Hardy?" Nancy asked, reaching up to touch her head, wincing when she grazed the bandage. "I'm sure I don't look that bad. He missed... Thanks to Ned."

"Your hero," Frank said with a smile. She grimaced. She didn't need to be rescued most days, and she probably didn't want to be reminded of that, even with her tendency to find trouble. She could take care of herself. He knew he hated it when Joe reminded him of the times when he'd rescued Frank. Or he had until he'd become basically dependent on his brother to function. "I don't think he was very happy to pick up your phone just after that and have us on the other end."

"I have to admit—I was surprised when Joe came in without you."

Frank tensed. He hadn't understood all of that himself. He knew that Ned was upset—justifiably so, since Nancy had almost been killed, again—but their last interaction was more hostile than usual. Tension he expected, since mistakes had been made in the past, but with as much time as had gone by and as much of a mess as Frank was now, why did any of that matter?

"What is it?" Nancy prodded, and Frank swallowed. He should have known she would press. She was Nancy Drew, after all.

"I thought it better not to try and see you when Ned was around," Frank answered after a moment. She watched him, waiting for more. He sighed. "When Ned found out that we were here—that I was here—he blew a fuse. I have to assume it was because he almost lost you—the stress got to him. He wanted to blame this attack on me. You really scared him, Drew. You'd better stop that."

Nancy frowned. "I know he was short-tempered with Joe, and he's not happy about the plan the police have, and we have been fighting, but it wasn't about you. I know he's never been entirely comfortable with you being my friend, but this is—it's not about that, and it's ridiculous. This trip was supposed to fix things. I never thought..."

"We never do," Frank said, shaking his head. Sure, he'd had concerns about putting Callie in danger before, and they'd fought over him wanting to keep her out of his cases. He'd thought about her being targeted before, hit by accident like Iola, but what Zollner did had still blindsided him. He still couldn't believe he hadn't seen it coming, but then he'd failed to realize just how twisted Zollner was.

"Frank, this is not your fault."

He snorted, the sound barking out almost hysterically. "Isn't it? Joe thinks it is. He thinks because Zollner is still sending me messages—that because he sent one pretending it was from you—he thinks you're a target. And it is my fault. I brought Zollner down on all of us."

Nancy pushed the guardrail down on her bed and put her legs over the edge, crossing to his side. "Listen to me, Hardy. The guilt is talking, not you. Zollner wants you to believe everything that goes wrong is wrong because of you because that way he hurts you without even trying, but you didn't hit me with that rock and you didn't kill the man in the suit. You had nothing to do with them."

Frank shook his head. "We were on our way to track down names I think are related to Zollner, and if they are, if that's what you got mixed up in, then it is my fault and even if it isn't—those flowers aren't from Bess."

"What?"