Author's Note: Man I looked at the date that I last updated, sorry to leave you hanging for so long. I'm completely surprised my story lasted this long. It was supposed to be a ten-chapter story but along the way my muse decided to force new ideas on me. So if any of you are getting tired of my story blame my muse.
Disclaimer: Okay I realize now that sending Joe to tell you that I own nothing was a big mistake as a sandwich and models sidetracked him. I should have just sent Frank. Hey we all learn from our mistakes. Alright it's time to break it to you gently….I don't own any of these characters. I know, I know, it's an incredible shock that the person who actually owns them isn't posting stories online for free but alas, that's the strange new world we live in.
Chapter 14-Sweet Rodriguez, who are you? (Saturday/Sunday)
"Dirty dancing is the most awesome 80s movie I have ever seen!" squealed Vanessa.
Sweet grinned, "And what was your favorite part, Tom Cruise in his underwear?"
"Hey!" Vanessa exclaimed defensively, "I happened to like the movie for it's incredibly cinematography."
The two girls sat on a couch in Vanessa's home living room, giggling like schoolgirls.
"So what 80s movie do you want to watch next?" Vanessa asked.
"Hmmm. How about…..The Heathers?"
"Good choice."
Approximately two hours the girls were laughing at the 120 minutes of ridiculous film they had just chosen to watch.
"I love my dead gay son!" Sweet exclaimed, doing a poor impression of one of her favorite characters.
Vanessa fell off the couch feeling tears form rivers on her cheeks.
* * *
"Great, more planes," muttered Callie. She shuddered, imagining the motion sickness she was prone to experience.
"Look Callie I know you dislike airplanes with a passion but just take these motion sickness pills and you will be out like that," Frank snapped his fingers.
"Are you absolutely sure?" Callie asked, turning her eyes up to meet his.
"Positive." Frank held out a bottle of white pills.
Callie reached out and took the bottle from him, with trust.
Both were sitting near their boarding gate, waiting for not only the plane to arrive but for Michael, Nancy, and Chet to come back with their dinner.
Frank closed his eyes in an attempt to drift off into a dream. Unfortunately his friends chose this moment to arrive with warm food.
"Frank," Callie said, "get up."
Frank's eyes shot open, taking in the sight of Chet's grinning face.
"Dude, now we eat."
"I'm so glad for you Chet," Frank said, more than a hint of sarcasm creeping into his voice.
"Aw, look who's Mr. Cranky Pants," Nancy crooned.
Frank felt himself blush in a way that could only be caused by the beautiful strawberry blonde. Who's just a friend. "Yeah well it's been a long day. Anyway, where's the grub?"
Chet handed Frank a bag with a Taco Bell Logo imprinted on it.
"Again?" Frank asked.
"Hey Taco Bell is great." Insisted Chet.
"Whatever."
Within minutes they had all finished their food and sat impatiently for their plane.
"Man, how long does it take to fly here from Maine?" Michael muttered.
"Maybe they ran into weather issues," suggested Chet.
"Or the pilot got drunk," Nancy said jokingly.
"What?" Callie asked alarmed.
"Callie she was kidding," Frank told her.
"Right," Chet agreed, "flying is totally great."
"Then name one damn thing great about it."
"Well," Nancy began, "You can see rivers, lakes, fields. The view is incredible."
"Except of course when random birds hit the windows," Chet told her.
Callie's eyes widened.
"You guys," Frank said in a low warning tone.
"Wait!" Michael exclaimed, "there is also the food they give you on the plane."
"W-what kind of food?" Callie asked.
"Well for a short trip like this it's probably peanuts and pretzels."
"I like peanuts and, and pretzels."
"Yup," Chet agreed, "In fact the food only gets to be a problem when it's managed to pick up some foreign disease."
"D-disease?" Callie's face paled.
Frank glared at Chet then turned back to Callie, "Callie the flight can feel very soothing and very smooth."
"Except when you're hitting mountain sides," Chet quipped.
"That's it!" Callie exclaimed, "No plane ride for me!"
"Gate 3A, Bayport International, begin boarding process," came the voice over the intercom.
"Come on Callie," Frank said, firm grip on her arm, "we're going home."
* * *
"Yeah Rita, yeah, all right, yes, okay," Nancy sighed. This Lady is too persistent. "Alright, bye."
"Your psychologist?" Frank asked as he looked for Callie's luggage at the baggage claim, she had said she was too tired to get it herself.
"Yeah, the court appointed one. She wants me to have sessions with her over the phone when I'm not in Illinois." Nancy let frustration mar her usually calm face.
"That must be killer on your cell phone bills." Spying Callie's bag he excused himself, reaching out to pull the brown suitcase towards himself.
In ten minutes, all baggage found, the five teenagers were tucked away in a rather small cab. Nancy, having Frank on one side and Michael on the other, found herself being squashed every time the cab driver made a sharp turn. We had better get out of here soon. Nancy took in Callie's half-asleep form on the other side of Frank. At least some one is enjoying the ride.
* * *
Joe sat on the steps of his front porch, glass of lemonade in one hand, snicker's bar in the other. Looking up he was surprised to see bright stars. Incredible how bright they shine, even through the smog. They're beautiful; I wonder what constellations are visible tonight. After a few minutes of searching, the blonde gave up; Frank was always the smarter one.
A smile graced Joe's lips. Frank, he's coming home tonight. Joe took a sip of his lemonade before biting into his candy bar. The combination of the pleasantly sour beverage and deliciously sweet candy caused Joe to wince. Never trying that again sour and sweet just don't mix. Sweet. Joe's thoughts became stuck on that one syllable word, or in Joe's case, one syllable name. Sweet, the girl Joe had been positive would be perfect for him, the girl he was now convinced was in some way connected to a group of terrorists. Sweet, what an ironic name, one fit for an angel, yet labels a girl who is anything but. Joe thought about Sweet's favorite punk/Goth style clothing; the chains, spikes; definitely not an angel. But still, never would have pegged her for a lunatic.
He took in a lung full of Bayport's spring air; slightly humid, cool, calm. Calm, I wish. I mean you'd think a small city would be calm and safe but no we have crazed bank robbers, hacker; you name it they're here. Joe relaxed against the steps enjoying the air, slightly accented by the scent of freshly grown spring flowers. I just hope Frank gets here soon.
* * *
Michael watched the scenery as the taxi rushed by at 50 miles an hour. So this is Bayport? The city born reporter felt an odd sense of awe as he observed the drastically domesticated businesses, houses, even liquor stores. It didn't make any sense to Michael that people should actually choose to live in such, cleanliness.
He felt a slight pressure on his hand. Looking away from the window he locked eyes with Nancy.
"Different isn't it?" She asked with a knowing smile.
"Not Chicago, that's for sure."
"Don't worry, it isn't as quiet as it looks."
"You can say that again," Frank said from the front seat.
"So," Michael said, "How much longer until we get to your house?"
"What's the matter?" Chet asked, "Getting too crowded back here?"
Frank chuckled, he had purposely chosen the front, passenger seat. Looking back at the others, Michael pressed against a window, Nancy next to him being smothered by a few hundred pounds of Chet, and Callie fast asleep in what Frank assumed had to be the most uncomfortable position in the world.
"Don't worry folks," the taxi driver spoke up, "only a few minutes 'till we get to your destination."
"Thank God," a voice mumbled, "the monkeys were getting angry."
"What?" Chet frowned and looked at Callie, "What monkeys?
Callie looked dazed, "Why, the ones chasing us silly."
"Um, Callie," Frank asked, "How many of those pills did you take?"
Callie giggled, "Only five little ones, you know, for the pancakes."
Chet looked at Frank, "Crap Frank, I think she took too many."
"No crap," Frank said, partially turned around in his seat to look at Callie, "Luckily the bottle has six pills as the daily max. Five will keep her dazed for awhile."
Nancy giggled. "I never thought I'd see the day Callie would overdose on drugs."
"Be nice," Frank warned, but fought a smile that threatened to take over.
Frank felt the car stop.
"Alright kids we're here," the driver announced. He stopped to look at his watch, "and it's only 10pm."
* * *
Joe ran up to the taxicab with a child's eagerness. "Frank!" He almost smothered his brother in a hug. Letting his brother breath he let go, "Nancy! Chet!" He came near killing them with his excitement as well. "And even Callie!" he tried to hug her but was surprised by a slap in the face.
"Never touch the Queen of the English!"
Joe looked at Frank. Frank shrugged, "Overdosed on pills."
"Pills?"
"Yeah, to fight nausea."
Joe looked past his brother to see someone he didn't know, "And you must be Michael," he said, giving the man a firm handshake. "Nice to meet the guy Nancy won't stop talking about."
"Joe," Nancy said in a warning voice.
"Aww," Michael said, batting his eyelashes, "you do love me."
Nancy blushed, "Oh shut up."
Michael answered with a cocky smile.
"Let me get your bags," Joe offered, quickly unloading the bags from the taxi.
"You really must have missed us to be offering to do work," Chet said with an amused look.
"Yeah, yeah," Joe said dismissively, "So when do we get to work on the case?"
* * *
"Sir, they are getting closer. What do you want me to do?"
The man smiled, "Let them get closer."
"W-What? I thought the point of this was to get away with it."
"Just do as I say and keep an eye on Ms. Rodriguez. We can't risk her telling them anything."
"Aye Sir."
* * *
As Frank awoke in his comfortable bed, which surprisingly hadn't been moved out of the room by his brother, he couldn't help but feel relief. Home was more than just a house, it was a place where he could feel safe, and the dangers of the outside world could not get him. Except for the psycho snapping pictures of you.
"Frank!" he heard Nancy call through his door.
"Come in."
She entered, looking around the room, "Joe didn't get rid of any of your stuff."
"Yeah," Frank said getting up, "I'm just as surprised."
"Anyway, your Aunt wanted to know how you wanted your eggs."
"Scrambled."
"Cool. Hurry up and get dressed, we're going out right after breakfast."
* * *
Chet found himself sitting at the Hardy's table across from Callie, who looked like she had been run over by a truck. Her characteristically bright eyes seemed dulled out, the whites of her eyes were slightly accented by red, and the bags under her eyes looked as though they could have held the groceries Gertrude had bought that very morning.
"Callie, how are you feeling?"
Callie looked up through a jungle of brown hair to glare at Chet, "Like I ran myself into a brick wall, backed up and did it again."
"Well I hope you feel better soon."
"Yeah I bet you do."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
" 'Hey Callie flying is safe, except when you hit the mountains.'"
"Come on Callie, you know I was just messing with you. You know I love ya."
"Whatever." Callie looked over to her left where Nancy and Frank were engrossed in a conversation. Nancy's boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. "Nancy where is Michael?"
"He hates getting up in the morning, he's sleeping in. I promised to wake him up before we left so he could come."
"Man, he passed up food!" Joe exclaimed.
"Yeah, hard to believe some people eat reasonable amounts of food, isn't it Joe?" Frank asked.
"Ha, ha."
Gertrude, sitting at the head of the table asked, "So where are you kids off to today?" When no one said anything she raised an eyebrow, "Oh so you're working on a new dangerous mystery are you?"
"How…"
"Frank I did not live with you people for this long to not realize when you're up to something. Just be careful."
* * *
"So," Michael said yawning, "They go in and act all cozy with the girl, get her talking. Meanwhile you and I sit out in this van and monitor their conversation on this equipment." Michael motioned towards the surprisingly high tech equipment in Joe's van.
"Yup, the beauty of being able to wire detectives," Nancy replied as she stared at a monitor and turned up the volume on a wireless radio.
"Alright, I understand why the four of them got to go in but what about her," Michael indicated toward the sleeping form of Callie on the backseat.
Nancy continued looking at the monitor, which at the moment was only displaying images of a few items in Sweet's house. "She said she was feeling fine but I guess those pills were stronger than we thought." Nancy sighed, "Poor Vanessa, I wish we could tell her that we were spying on her and her new best friend. When she finds out Joe was wired the whole time she is going to kill him."
Michael stared at the monitor as well, "I hate to sound like Mr. Insensitivity but the world isn't perfect, life plays funny games with your heart, she'll have to learn that." Michael tapped the monitor, "I just hope he can keep his mouth shut about all of this."
"Don't worry," Nancy said distracted, "Biff has had practice in keeping his trap shut."
* * *
Joe sat comfortably on the Rodriguez's living room couch. His brother sat to the right of him, looking as though he was getting ready to take a stroll in the park, Chet sat on a tan, leather loveseat with Vanessa, and Sweet sat to left of Joe.
"So you are Joe's brother," Sweet said, "Vanessa told me you two were complete opposites."
"Better believe it," Chet said, "Frank here is nothing like Joe. See Joe is impulsive, brash, unorganized…"
"Hey!" Joe exclaimed, "There's helping and then there's hurting, can you guess which you're doing?"
Vanessa laughed, "Ah, but the truth hurts."
After a few hours of playful banter and snacks, Joe excused himself to use the restroom. Joe carefully made his way down the hall, where the nearest bathroom was located. Alright Hardy, their backdoor is here somewhere. BINGO.
Joe carefully slipped outside into the backyard. Looking around for someway to climb onto the second floor of the Rodriguez's house he spotted a hose.
* * *
"What is that boy doing?" Nancy asked.
"No idea," Michael responded as he watched Joe pick up a hose and make a loop on one end.
"It looks like he's getting ready to play cowboy," Nancy commented as she watched him swing it around his head.
"I get it," Michael said as Joe threw the looped end of the hose.
"Ah." Nancy said as the looped end caught on a loose nail on a second floor windowsill. Joe had successfully created a make-shift rope. "So he's going to actually attempt to climb that?"
* * *
Joe began to climb the hose, knowing full well that Michael and Nancy were wondering at his insanity through the cameras hidden on the corners of his eyes. Man I love high technology equipment.
He grabbed hold of the windowsill, pulling himself onto the ledge and opening the window. Luckily it's open, wouldn't want to have to add breaking and entering onto my list of felonies. The detective stepped into the bedroom and immediately recognized it as Sweet's. Vanessa's description of the artist's dream was incredibly accurate. But this isn't what I'm looking for.
Joe quickly walked into the hall, trying to find the master bedroom. In front of him were two doors. Opening one he found a small bedroom lacking any real personality. Deciding this must be the guest room, Joe walked to the other door, opening it he found a king sized bed accompanied by several other pieces of furniture. Nice room.
* * *
"Joe this is no time to admire the room, find clues," Nancy whispered.
"But the room is amazing. How could a Colonel in the Air Force afford some of those things?" Michael rubbed his chin, "The Ming Dynasty vase, flat screen TV with DVD player, marble floor…. I mean what army man can afford that kind of taste?"
"I don't know but I know some one who can afford it. In fact he does buy that kind of stuff."
"Maher," Michael murmured as realization dawned on him.
Nancy nodded.
"But why would he have an Air Force Colonel on his payroll? Or buy him some of that stuff?"
"Maybe," Nancy said as Joe looked through a few drawers, "Maybe Maher bought some of those things as gifts, or all rich guys have the same taste."
Michael shrugged, "Next we'll have to find the Bayport company Maher and Valleys work with."
Nancy nodded her agreement, "It could only make some of this make more sense." She attempted to sort out the facts in her head but it only succeeded in giving her a slight headache. "Michael I feel so bad for Joe. I was hoping Sweet would not fit the description we had been given but she fits it to a T."
Michael covered one of Nancy's hands with his own. "From what you've told me he is an honestly great guy, I'm sure he'll find someone."
Nancy laid her head on Michael's shoulder, "I hope so." She rose her head violently as Joe pulled something out of a drawer. "Oh my…"
* * *
"I wonder where Joe is," Sweet wondered out loud.
"Probably still in the bathroom," Biff commented, "Did you see how much he ate?"
"Hmm, maybe we were out of toilet paper on the first floor." Sweet stood up.
"Sweet," Frank said quickly, "if Joe needs anything I'm sure he'll yell."
"I guess you're ri…," She was interrupted by a slamming door. "What the hell was that?"
Chet winced. Now was not the time for Joe to get sloppy.
Immediately following Chet's thought, Joe came barreling down the stairs.
"Joe," Sweet started, "are you okay?"
"Don't even start with that act!" Joe yelled.
* * *
"No, don't lose your temper," Michael said to Joe, knowing that Joe couldn't hear him.
Nancy winced as she watched the scene in front of her.
* * *
Joe grabbed Sweet by the arm.
"Joe that hurts!"
"Where did you get these!" he yelled in her face.
Vanessa immediately jumped up to defend her friend. "Joe what are you doing!?"
Chet, Biff, and Frank were glued to their seats, not knowing what to do.
Without turning his murderous eyes to Vanessa he replied, "Why don't you ask this liar?"
"Joe, explain," Frank demanded.
Joe released Sweet from his death grip. In his other hand were a few things Frank had not noticed, pictures. "Sweet where did you get this picture?" He held a picture of Frank and himself on a case in Japan. "Or this one?" Showing her a picture of Frank on his first day of college he took a step forward, forcing the girl to take a step back, "Or this one damn it!" It was one of Frank kissing Nancy on a case in Egypt.
Frank looked at the photos, his eyes widening in anger. Turning to the speechless girl he calmly asked, "Who are you?"
Vanessa stood, watching in horror. "Sweet? What's going on?"
* * *
"What the hell?" Michael watched in surprise as Sweet buried her face in her hands. He heard her crying.
* * *
"I hoped you wouldn't find out," Sweet said through tears.
Chet, Biff, and Frank continued to look on in confusion.
"Find out what? That you've been lying, spying?" Joe asked, far from sensitive.
Sweet looked at the floor, "I guess I owe you an explanation."
* * *
"Alright! I think we're getting somewhere!" Michael exclaimed happily.
Nancy nodded though Michael didn't see, his eyes were fixed on the monitor.
Joe was talking, "How much of what you told me was a lie?"
* * *
Sweet sighed, "Not much." Looking Joe in the eyes she said, "My father really was stationed here in New York but not by the Air Force."
"Then by who?" Vanessa asked.
"The FBI. My dad received a request by the FBI to relocate to Bayport, he got permission from the Air Force and now we're here."
"But what does that have to do with the pictures?" Frank questioned.
"Well he was sent here on an assignment. You see there was a project that started about twenty years ago, the Powerhouse, that my dad was involved in. The project was to create what the government called superhumans."
"Superhumans?" Biff said incredulously.
Sweet shrugged, "Their term not mine. Anyway they created these beings by.."
* * *
"…cloning already existing humans and perfecting their DNA."
"That's impossible," Michael's words echoed Joe's.
"No it's not," Sweet's voice insisted on the speaker. "The government, actually the FBI, found a way to replicate humans and improve them. There was just one problem."
Nancy frowned at the speaker, "Did you hear that sound?"
* * *
"What problem?" Joe asked.
"Even though they could improve these humans, they couldn't get rid of any serious flaws already existing in the DNA." Sweet sighed, "And the morality of the project was questionable. How do you explain to the clones that they don't have any real family, that they're just copies in some kind of experiment?"
"Playing God," Frank whispered.
Sweet nodded. "One clone went crazy, she couldn't take any of it any more and started killing. Because of this woman the FBI suspended their project. They became so worried about any of their 'superhumans' doing anything drastic that they began to follow them, document their every move."
"How do you know this?" Vanessa asked.
Sweet looked into Vanessa's eyes sadly, "Because I'm a clone."
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I've tallied up the votes I've gotten through email and postings and it looks like most of the pairings could go either way. I got about as many votes for Nancy/Frank as I did for Nancy/Michael. I even got a few for Nancy/Joe (didn't know there were N/J shippers out there). Most of you were confused about any possible Joe pairings, can't say I blame you.
I don't really have time to respond to most of the postings right now but let me just say a few things, yes some of the pictures were taken outside of Bayport and if any of you change your mind about any of the possible relationships just let me know.