A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews. dreams of Leilani, Reney, Phoeonix, violetsunshine, dr. drew, ukfan101, Risha, Helen, and franknjoe, especially for the reviews of the last chapter. They are very much appreciated. I hope you enjoy the rest of the story. There's some darkness ahead... but don't lose hope for good to emerge! There are 6-7 chapters left. Thanks again!!

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 25

Joe

As he stood outside on the porch of his parents' house that night, Joe couldn't help but to stare out at the clear evening sky and wonder why, despite all the unspeakable tragedy that had happened in literally the last twenty-four hours, everything seemed so calm… so normal. It seemed wrong – almost cruel—somehow, that life continued to go on, seemingly oblivious to the pain and the shock that had just entered his world.

It was hard to believe that life had turned itself upside down in the last day. Here he was, chilled despite the warm end of summer season, and realizing that nothing would ever be the same again.

Callie was gone. He could barely register the thought, much less expect his brother to understand and to cope with her tragic death. Callie, who had done nothing but to love and support his brother unconditionally, stand by Vanessa's side as her best friend, and steadfastly prove herself as a friend and confidante to anyone who was lucky enough to have met her, was now dead, struck down in a cruel twist of fate that had also taken his first love long ago.

Pulling his light jacket tighter around himself, he felt a sad smile tug at his lips when he thought unexpectedly of Callie and their history together. From their arguments as teens to their closeness today, Callie had always been sassy, funny, and intelligent. Moments flashed before his eyes. Long days at the beach through the years, picnics, countless double dates with Vanessa … with Iola… Callie had proven herself to be worthy of Frank's devotion time and time again. He saw her smiling and laughing, hanging out with Vanessa, and, above all, always being with Frank. Frank and Callie, Callie and Frank. It was virtually impossible to think of one without the other; they were so closely connected.

Through the years, Joe had always had confidence that, through their adventures and bond, no one knew his brother better than he did. It was for that reason that he let Frank see the REAL him because, like it or not, Frank would always tell him the truth, set him straight when he was out of line, offer advice, tease him… and set the bar high for friendly competition. His brother was his idol, his best friend, his hero, really. But deep down he knew, had to admit, that Callie probably knew him just as well. After all, didn't he share a secret world with Vanessa? Wouldn't Frank do the same with Callie—whom he'd been dating for almost a decade?

What will he do without her?

Joe pushed the thought to the back of his mind. It was too painful for him… but it plagued him still.

What will I do? He thought suddenly, and immediately chastised himself for his selfishness. Still, he couldn't help it. He loved Callie, too, for many reasons-- countless times she'd bailed him out of trouble with his brother. She was one of the only people who knew, truly, how he'd loved Iola, and every year she was there to share herself, openly and freely, and to help him remember Iola as she really was. Heck, she'd just stopped him from making one of the biggest mistakes of his life by bursting in on Vanessa without having his head on right. Above all, Callie was one of the most sincere and genuine people he'd ever met, and he would miss her terribly, not simply because every time he would think of her from now on, he would be forced to think of her death… which made him think of Iola… and made him deal once again with horrible demons he thought he'd conquered long ago.

What willI do? Again, the question haunted him. This time, though, it was not because of Callie's death directly, but because of Frank. Joe felt the sting deeply already. He saw, underneath Frank's shock, that his brother would be forever altered. He was different already, and Joe was… lost. There was no other word for it. His easygoing older brother who was quick with a laugh, eager to always help others, sincerely – nice—was dying. That light that had always been there, even in the toughest of times, was gone. The light of what? Innocence? Idealism? Whatever it was, Joe knew without a doubt that it would soon be replaced with doubt, with cynicism, with a genuine understanding that sometimes the bad guys won, and that things in life just might not happen for a reason. After all, didn't that imply that people got what they deserved? Did Iola deserve to die? Did Callie?

He knew now that he had to be strong; that eventually he'd have to play the role of the big brother. He didn't know if he wanted to, if he could—because he'd never do as good of a job as HIS teacher.

He thought of Vanessa, probably tossing and turning in his childhood bedroom, needing him to be there to hold her. He wanted to and he would. Now was NOT the time to think about himself. He would head up to see her soon—after he checked on his brother. With a deep sigh, he turned to go into the house.

He stopped only long enough to gaze out at the clear, unobtrusive sky that was alight with stars at this late hour. He couldn't help but to think of how they looked like twinkling candles on a birthday cake, and he knew, then, that Iola was with him. He didn't fight it and he wasn't afraid. Instead, he chose to embrace her spirit, knowing she wouldn't hurt him and that she would give him strength. He'd never been particularly religious, but he'd learned to know there was a God out there somewhere who'd made Iola his guardian angel. She was trying to tell him something. He KNEW it. He just didn't know what or why.

Taking one last glance at the stars above, he bid Iola a happy birthday, wondering how the ice crystal stars could be made of fire. If fire and ice, opposites that should destroy each other, can co-exist, he thought, maybe there's a line between hope and despair that would allow him, all of them, to survive.

He turned slowly and walked into the house.

Frank

Frank sat up forcefully, heart pounding in his chest. Struggling for breath, he clenched his fists and frantically turned his head around, trying to gain some sense of what was happening; where he was. It took him only an instant to realize that he was in his old house in the bedroom he'd had since he was a kid. It was only another few moments before he realized that he'd just awoken from a terrible nightmare.

Trying to breathe evenly, he shuddered as a cold chill ran through his body. Why was he here?

Involuntarily he flashed back to the nightmare that had just haunted him. A flash of light, of fire… screaming… a sense of loss and helplessness so deep it actually hurt to think about. Of course, he surmised at once. It's Iola's birthday.

Every year, around this time, he would always have a flashback to that moment. The haunted, elusive look in his brother's eyes that had changed Joe forever would appear… and then thankfully, Frank would wake up and his lighthearted brother would be there, without Iola…. but, finally, with a sense of peace that came after many years, for which Frank would always be grateful.

This time, though, it was different. This nightmare had been worse than any other. This time, it was HE who was racing towards the fiery wreck, and it was CALLIE who he was trying desperately to get to. Another chill passed through him and he sucked in a breath.

Callie. Where WAS she?! Looking around the empty room, he truly expected her to be there. No, she wouldn't be. She would have let him go to Joe on this night of the year, being around his brother… just in case.

He closed his eyes and inexplicably felt his lips tremble. The need to hold her was overwhelming and all-consuming; literally, he ached for her. What was going on?!

He flushed suddenly, caught between chills and waves of heat. Struggling to breathe, he got up from bed and looked out the window. His fists remained balled up in terrible tension that he didn't even realize he was feeling. His heart continued to pound like it wanted to break apart.

Confusion reigned.

At once, bits and pieces of -- something—flashed through his mind. A hospital? A fire? Collig. Dee. Joe. Something holding him back—from what? Why? He felt his eyes burn with unshed tears.

What the hell was going on?!

His dad. Joe. Iola. Vanessa. Nancy. Callie. Again, his heart skipped a beat.

Daley.

Daley!

All at once, Frank whirled around, desperate to grab onto something to get him focused. He turned on the light. He had no idea how he knew it, but he knew that his dad would have left files for his perusal in his room. When or where or why or how he had no idea, but he knew they would be there.

They were.

Sitting at his desk, he fought the panic that was trying to get to the surface. Why? I must be getting sick. In some way, he knew it was true.

Ripping open the files, he remembered tidbits of conversations that had happened- when? He didn't care. He knew he had to find something out, and when he saw it, he'd know it.

A knock on the door.

Annoyed at the disruption from the task he knew somehow that he had to complete, despite not knowing why, he looked up as the door opened. He felt his face soften as he looked at his brother. Suddenly, he remembered again about Iola's birthday, and tried to neutralize his fears and to get back into big brother mode. The thing was, he couldn't. To do that, he'd have to be in control of his emotions, and he wasn't. Still, for Joe, he tried to fake it.

"Are you okay?" he asked. His voice sounded strangely foreign to his own ears.

Joe looked shocked.

"Are YOU?" Joe finally answered in response.

Am I? He wanted more than anything to reach out to his brother, to ask him what was going on, to help him find the missing pieces of everything around him. He'd always been a person of logic and reason and nothing now made sense. But there was a sense, deep within him, that wouldn't let him ask Joe anything. Whether it was because he wanted to protect Joe on this day, or whether he really didn't want any answers for some reason, he didn't know. All he could do was to stare dumbly at his brother.

Joe looked at him with—pity? That didn't make sense. But it was there. No—it was more than pity. It was… empathy.

Suddenly, he felt very hot. He wanted to turn away from Joe's eyes, but he couldn't. They were like looking into his own.

Finally, when the silence became too much, he opened his mouth. He wanted to tell Joe that everything would be okay, that Iola was watching. Again, he knew it was true.

So when he spoke, the absolute last thing he thought he would say came out. "Callie…." He whispered.

What?!

The next thing he knew, Joe was at his side, pulling up a chair. He didn't try to hug him; somehow, he must have known that, for some reason, human touch would be unbearable now for Frank. He said simply, "I know. And I'm here. Don't forget that." Joe's voice sounded different, too.

Still, even though he didn't know what he had meant, what Joe had meant, he knew that Joe WAS there; for something. And it gave him some comfort.

He nodded.

At once, the moment was broken as Frank found himself turning to the files at his desk. He needed to get control the only way he knew how to; to get lost in the world of facts and figures, to find order in the simplicity of numbers and science that to so many was elusive, but to him was intrinsically beautiful, a puzzle that always had an answer, that could be explained… unlike so many other things in real life.

He wanted to tear through the files, understand DNA and crime scenes again, draw a map and understand that it had a destination and would reveal its answers in its own time. The need to understand was dire.

At once, he was reminded of Joe's presence as his brother also picked up some files. Like… like he understood what even Frank couldn't fully.

"I'm here to help," he said with such sincerity that it made Frank's heart ache again. The double meaning of his brother's words were crystal clear.

Together, they looked through files, each seeking answers to questions that had not even yet been asked.

Vanessa

Sitting up on the bed in Joe's old room, Vanessa wiped the tears from her eyes again. She looked down at her shaking hands and wondered if peace would ever find her again. How—How could life change so suddenly? It didn't make sense.

A few months ago, joy filled everyone's lives as they prepared to celebrate Frank and Callie's wedding that had been so long in coming. The summer was full of promise, of laughter and hope, of genuine fun. The future had never looked brighter. Vanessa choked back a sob as she thought of it. During the past year, as the wedding had loomed closer and she and Joe had conspired to drag out the wedding fun as long as possible, she had thought she'd seen a change in her boyfriend.

It had been little things. He'd begun to talk about "their" future, had subtly hinted at things they would laugh at "when they were old," had called their moving in together a "memorable first step." She'd never pressured Joe to get engaged or married; really, she was happy just being with him.

But a small part of her dared to hope, was secretly jealous of the fact that Frank and Callie were finally taking their first step towards forever. She found herself overjoyed, living vicariously through Callie, who, despite her reserved manner, was, Vanessa knew, bursting at the seams with joy. She WANTED that for Frank and Callie. They loved each other deeply in a secret world where, it seemed, they had each other first and foremost. The thing was, she also had that world with Joe. And she couldn't wait to follow Callie down the aisle – someday. Now, she knew, that day might not come. Joe would have to save Frank, and then himself, like he had once, long ago, with Iola…. And where would that leave her?

Sometimes, although she loved Joe dearly and knew he loved her, she still felt that she could not compare to the ideal of a memory that Iola represented.

Now, too, Callie, her best friend, was gone. On the surface, they had nothing in common. Vanessa knew she was loud, outgoing, and a bit of a daredevil, while Callie was reserved, sweet, and "fine on solid ground, thank you," as she'd always said. Callie had gone to an Ivy League college; Vanessa had gone to a community college and then on to a four year school. She loved computers and graphic design; Callie didn't even know how to import a file. Vanessa wore the latest fashions; Callie always wore perfectly tailored, expensive and classic pieces. Vanessa only had her mom; Callie had both of her parents.

But, like so many things in life, appearances were not reality. Vanessa smiled sadly, recalling how she'd gotten to know Callie, slowly, over the years. In time, they'd become the best of friends. Callie was far wilder than anyone would anticipate. She had a dry sense of humor and an unassuming presence which often made people underestimate her; but she was one of the smartest people Vanessa had ever met, and kind and generous to a fault. She was also silly and pretty much always up for a good time… a side of her that few other people knew.

She had helped Vanessa through the hardest of times in her life, from the truth about her father, which only Callie and Joe knew, through dealing with Joe's early reckless behavior as a kid after Iola's death, to being a loyal and steadfast friend. They were two only children who had found a family in each other. In every way except blood, they were sisters.

And now, she was an only child again.

Yes, time changed everything. The glorious months turned to fear filled weeks, but they'd been okay. Until today… until today.

Burying her face in her hands as she waited for Joe, she started to sob.

Nancy

Nancy sighed deeply and turned to look at the clock.

3:00 a.m.

Taking a deep breath, she turned on the light at the corner of desk in the room that she'd now shared with Ned for the better part of a month. What had started out as a weekend trip to help an old friend on a case had turned into a nightmare beyond words.

She'd become obsessed with this case and it had almost cost her the relationship that she valued more than anything. Even now, Ned should be sleeping, but somehow he understood that she needed to work and he had slipped out, telling her with a rueful grin that he'd pick up a double shot of espresso for them both at the local coffee shop since it would be a long night.

How could she have wronged him so deeply? More importantly, how could he still love her? Her eyes filled with tears as gratitude overwhelmed her.

The horror of what had happened at the station house was burned into her like fire. She'd never seen such devastation, such shock, on everyone's faces. She was sick with the thought of what had happened to Callie, and it broke her heart to think of the pain that Frank would be going through right now… what all of the Hardys, the Shaws, everyone who knew Callie, must be going through.

She'd come to realize what she should have known all along; that although she loved Frank, it was in a very different way than how she loved Ned. What if it would have been Ned who had died on a case involving her? Even if it wasn't her fault, could she ever really forgive herself?

Was that what motivated Joe still?

Nancy realized with a start that although she knew the Hardy world, she wasn't a part of it directly. That was okay—they weren't a part of her world directly, either.

And no one could live up to an ideal.

Frank would never know, would never care, that she liked dark chocolate and hated white; that she liked her coffee with flavored creamers and exactly two packets of sugar; that she won second place in an expository essay contest as a high school senior, or that she hated the smell of roses.

Frank would never know or care that some friends had hurt her feelings in college, or that she preferred the mountains to the beach, or that, deep down, she kind of liked scary movies.

And unlike Frank, Ned had been there through all of that, to hold her and support her, to happily take second place in the glare of the spotlight, to tell her that he'd "take care" of guys who started rumors about her.

Because Ned was REAL to her, and Frank was not. Frank was the lure of the "other," an idealized conception of himself. He was a handsome, funny, incredibly smart, athletic, and all around great guy… but he probably had faults, too. Maybe he suffered from incurable hiccups when he laughed, just like her. Whatever it was, he wasn't Ned, who was both real and ideal to her.

And it had taken this case to show her that.

What she did know, though, was that Frank needed her help right now—they all did, even though they couldn't ask for it, and understandably so. And she planned to help.

She also knew that she did have a connection with Frank that was uncanny; that he was like her in many ways.

It was because of this that she knew that the only way for Frank to go on with anything was to want answers, because that's what it would take for her to go on, even for a small while.

Despite everything, there was still a case to be solved. She couldn't do it alone. She might never understand the workings of DNA that Frank could, might not have the keen intuition of Joe or Fenton, but she did have a sense of both timing and people… and she knew how the past could affect a person.

With those thoughts in mind, she took out a notepad and began to retrace the history of John Daley.

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….Who, far away, looked at his reflection in the mirror as he removed his now useless colored contacts and stared at ice blue eyes. He smiled. It was done.