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Disclaimer: The Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, and all related characters belong to Simon and Schuster as well as the Stratemeyer Syndicate. No copyright infringement is intended.

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The drive into Bayport was silent, and Frank Hardy pulled up to the nursing home uneventfully, cutting the engine and listening to the quiet snowfall briefly before opening the door. Finally stepping out of the rattled but steady Boxster, Frank drew a nervous breath and glanced at his companion over the roof. "I think I'll stay out here for a few minutes. The police said they'd contact us in the morning if they had questions, but I told them where we were headed. You never know."

Bess shook her head, shrugging into her coat and sighing. "Okay, but just for a few minutes. Joe asked about you all day, Frank. He needs his brother. The questions can wait. I have to go do something with my hair before we go to his room anyhow. I'd scare him back into a coma after that ride…"

"You look beautiful. I'll follow in just a few minutes." He pledged obediently, feet grinding impatiently into the snow and eyes trailing as she hurried up the walkway and inside.

Only seconds later a police cruiser pulled into the parking area, lights off, and a fit, graying older man stepped out.

"You're losing your touch, Con." Hardy said dryly. "Because I know my eyes aren't sharper. I spotted you the minute we left the station."

"Frank." The fit, well-aged police officer greeted, pausing just before the vehicle. "Just making sure you got home safely…and indulging a little curiosity too, I suppose. We were beginning to wonder if Bayport's prodigal would ever come home again."

"It wasn't my idea." Brushing the thin layer of snow dusting the hood, his companion shrugged his shoulders, hoping to ease the knots of tension. "But I suppose its good I'm here. I'm guessing you've already heard?"

"Despite Bess' best efforts, there was a bit of a leak from the home to the department. For now it's quiet, but eventually higher authorities will have to be notified. You realize that there's a very strong possibility that the Drew case will be reopened."

"It didn't take you long to bring it up, either, I see. Are you out here still on duty or skulking about unofficially, Con?"

The older man grabbed a shoulder, turning him abruptly. "I'm here as a family friend. And on that level, I'm hoping you intend to look into the case long before it ever reaches upper level. I can tell you, if Joe is questioned, there's the possibility that he could put himself under."

Frank whipped his head around, gaze locking on Bayport's chief. "Are you saying Joe is a suspect? Just what is it you think he did six years ago, arranged to be beaten into a coma?"

"Do you know why your brother was in New York the week he was injured?"

Wry amusement crossed a tired face. "Joe was on break from college, had just finished his junior year. I'd just graduated and reported to my news job. He decided to take a summer gig in the city."

"No details?"

"My little brother was very much into the entire independence thing at the time. We weren't hooked at the hip. I graduated to adult life and as a result Joe rather abruptly felt an urge to graduate from apron strings. He just said that he had a job. No details were offered."

"Well, we investigated. The place he took employment at was an underground nightspot, hotspot as well, I'm afraid. Some unsavory types are known to have hung around the place. Drug traffickers, gangsters, even your odd Assassin."

"So Joe could have been undercover…"

"That's always a possibility." Riley stomped his feet in an effort to get warm, eyes squinting. "He had a couple of misdemeanor violations early that summer here in Bayport. Then there was the small street fight…he clocked a CIA agent."

"You're kidding." Annoyed that his parents hadn't told him and faintly amused despite himself, Frank straightened up. "What was a CIA agent doing here in Bayport?"

"Not surprisingly, he wasn't willing to say. Of course, since he couldn't offer proof of official business I couldn't decently file charges. Joe got off with a warning and a couple of bruises. But I'd still like to know what they were arguing about. A couple of the witnesses made it sound like Joe was resisting being taken for questioning."

"If that was true it seems the agent would have tried a lot harder to have him booked. Unless what they were after dealt with subject matter too sensitive to lay open to outside authorities…" Rubbing his jaw, Hardy frowned. "So if Joe wasn't working for the CIA, he was either a rogue investigator or…"

"Among the investigated, yes." Con slapped the former sleuth on the shoulder. "Enjoy your Christmas at home, Frank. Let Joe reassert himself. The paperwork on this won't be moving until well after the new year, so you've got plenty of time to mull." The officer sighed. "I hope you'll look into it. I intend to give Joe every chance I can pull out of a hat. But others…strangers…won't do it, won't care."

"I know." Releasing his own sigh of frustration, Frank blew tufts of frosty air. "Thanks, Con. Some welcome back to town."

"I have a couple of rookies willing to stand guard at your home…or here, until he's released…off duty."

"Thanks, but no. He's a victim here. I don't want to smother him. If danger knocks, I'm pretty certain Joe has proven that he can take care of himself." Frank said pointedly.

Riley hesitated briefly before shaking his head and turning to walk back to the squad car. "To be brutally honest, that's what I'm afraid of."

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Somewhere down the hall the Christmas caroling had begun again, fresh festoons of garland and tinsel were decked about the corridors and his room, but despite the holiday mood and attentions of those around him, Joe Hardy had never felt so isolated in his life.

Wrapping the old, fuzzy robe Bess had brought by more tightly around himself, he yawned, the Christmas bulbs strung up just outside the window dancing blurrily. "You're not going back to sleep, Hardy." He muttered, slamming his jaw shut before a second yawn could escape and peering further out. His room overlooked the well-tended gardens and a corner of the parking lot. A shiny sports car sat alone, lights glowing dimly, a guy propped against the hood. Squinting, Hardy tried to place familiar stance, and then the man's head turned, a hand being chased through dark hair.

Frank.

His brother didn't seem in any particular hurry to come in out of the weather, but Joe desperately wanted a closer look. Tying the robe tightly, he stepped into house shoes and headed down the corridor, barreling past an orderly and two nurses. A receptionist stood as he passed through the main lobby but made no further movement, and the former detective was out on the porch before she thought to reach for the phone.

Frank had turned and was kneeling by the car, fingers being carefully run over the front left tire.

"Hey, big brother!" Despite all effort, Joe knew his voice wobbled precariously close to tears. Standing uncertainly a few feet away, he could only stare, doubts and fears racing through his head.

The dark-haired stranger stood hastily, drawing forward and then halting just as apprehensively. The differences time had made were subtle but immediately notable to someone who had known Frank Hardy so well for so long. The elder Hardy brother wasn't as athletically fit as he'd been, but looked comfortably healthy, if weary. A few premature strands of white peppered his temple and he wore tailored and clearly pricey clothing. He looked…grim. "Frank?"

"Christ, Joe!" His brother finally muttered, rushing forward and tackling him in a bear hug.

"Hey, hey, watch the stomach." Prying loose gingerly, Joe managed a lop-sided grin.

"Sorry." Frank backed up, a hand running across his mouth, shoulders crumpling. His eyes brimmed, and then flared with outrage. "Are you nuts, kid? What are you doing out here in this weather?"

"Well, you weren't inviting yourself in, were you?" Scolding fading, the patient let his older brother wrap an arm over his shoulder and lead the way back up the sidewalk and indoors. A swarm of orderlies and nurses parted to let Bess through, her eyes widened.

"Joe Hardy! What were you thinking?! Do you know how I felt when I found your room empty?"

"I get the general idea." Her target groused, eyes sparkling as the room cleared and Frank helped him onto a sofa. "So that's your ride? You're looking pretty snazzy now, Frank; though I hope you didn't junk the van, I'm sure it still had a lot left to offer…"

"Pretty shells hide strong souls sometimes, little brother." Frank told him, smile shifting slightly as he glanced over at Bess. She beamed back, sitting in a wing chair and watching them approvingly. "And the van has just been waiting for you."

"I'll hold you to that." Wrapping a palm over his brother's, Joe leaned forward to meet his gaze pleadingly. "Get me out of here tonight."

"Joe, Anet said…" Bess stood, crossing the short distance to sit beside him.

"I feel fine. The tests turned out normal, I'm not dizzy, and I can eat. There's nothing they can do here that I can't do at home. Please."

"He has a point." Frank admitted, trading glances with her over his brother's head.

Marvin sighed, standing again. "I'll go talk to the doctor on duty. You two had might as well use the time wisely and catch up."

After a few moments of awkward silence, Joe accepted the glass of water a nurse offered before moving away, meeting eyes with his companion. "So, how's Vanessa these days?"

"Va…" Head shaking, Frank smiled. "Ness is fine. She works with me. Phil and I, that is. They're married, not that you'd want to know that right now…" Voice trailing doubtfully, he rubbed his hands together.

"I somehow think it'll take more than a broken heart to kill me." His fair-headed brother nodded at the slight gold band displayed on one of the rubbing hands. "And you're married?"

"Now that you mention it, for…must be nearly four years." Staring at his hand in vague surprise, Frank twirled the band.

"And is it any small coincidence that Bess has a matching band?"

"I'm a little surprised she hasn't melted it." His brother muttered.

Joe laughed, slapping him on the back with pale imitation of former strength. "I've missed you. We've got a lot of catching up to do."

"And all night to do it…" Bess appeared before them, arms crossed. "…while I get some beauty sleep. Come on, boys. Let's get the two of you home."

There were no arguments.