A/N: Just so everyone knows, the verdict from the previous chapter is technically not possible. But for this fic's reality, it is.

DREW MURDERER NOT GUILTY!

Ian Hendricks acquitted of second-degree murder charge.

Nancy Drew, the famous 18-year-old detective, was murdered a few weeks ago. Yesterday, her killer, Ian Hendricks, was found not guilty of second-degree murder, by reason of self-defense.

Joe threw the paper onto the seat next to him angrily. He hated the press. Hated how they had made Nancy's murder sound like a run-of-the-mill event, with their uncaring articles. And the same tone had carried over to the reports of the verdict. Didn't they care that lives had been ruined? He looked at the article again, skipping ahead a few paragraphs

Family and friends of Drew appear to have found the jury's decision to be a shock. Sources indicate that Frank Hardy, in particular, has taken the verdict as a blow straight to the heart. Rumors abound that…

Rumors. Speculation. The press didn't care who they hurt, didn't care who had already suffered. But if they had been there that night, been there to see Frank at the hospital…

(An hour after Nancy being declared dead)

"Frank?" Joe Hardy rushed in to meet his brother, who was sitting, head in hands, in the hospital waiting room. "Frank, what happened? I left the hotel the minute they called…drove here as fast as I could…"

"Nancy's dead." Frank's voice was surprisingly flat, devoid of all emotion.

"What!" Joe gasped, feeling as though he'd been run over by a truck.

"She's dead." Again, no emotion. But Joe looked at his brother closely, and could tell he was simply hiding the pain. He suspected Frank was afraid to let it out, afraid to break down in this cold hospital waiting room. Frank, Nancy, and Joe had been friends for years, but Frank and Nancy had shared something. They'd had a bond that was tighter than most, which drew them toward each other, although they'd never acted on it. They'd been involved with other people and neither liked the soap-opera-ish idea of leaving their significant others to date each other.

Joe said nothing, knowing that there was nothing he could say. When he lost Iola, Frank's words had held no comfort for him, and he knew Frank would feel the same if he tried to speak now. Instead, he simply sat down, and hugged his brother tightly.

Eventually, he knew, a breakdown would come. Eventually. And when it came, Joe wasn't sure if the fierce hold he had on his brother now, arm around Frank's shoulders, would even be noticed. So he gave it now while he could.

The two of them sat there, how long he didn't know, Frank like a useless mannequin in Joe's arms, until Carson Drew walked into the waiting room. Joe noted that the man's eyes were red, and he seemed to be staggering under an invisible weight.

"Hello, sir," he said slowly, unsure whether he really wanted to talk to this man at the moment, to deal with two broken people. He spotted a woman behind him. "Hello, Hannah." To avoid meeting their eyes, he stole a glance at the clock on the wall, and realized with shock that he and Frank had been there several hours. He looked back to the pair.

"Hello, Joe," they both mumbled. Hannah looked worse than Mr. Drew, her face splotched and puffy, and a tissue clutched in her hand.

"Have you... Did you just get here?" 'Or did I miss you arriving earlier, too wrapped up in my own sadness?'

Carson shook his head. "We've been here for over three hours." Coughing, he added, "We had to make phone calls, to…to let everyone know that…" He couldn't finish.

Joe pulled himself from the memories. If the press had only been there, he had a feeling the article would read a lot more sympathetically today. But there was no use wishing for the past to be rewritten, and he sighed heavily.

Footsteps made Joe look up from the paper he no longer really saw. In the entryway to the Drews' kitchen, Frank Hardy stood. There were no words exchanged, Frank's eyes simply meeting Joe's for a moment, before he glanced at the paper. A muscle twitched near his eye as he read the headline, but he gave no other sign of his emotions. He turned then, and left Joe in the kitchen as abruptly as he'd arrived.

A few minutes later, Joe heard the sound of a car starting in the driveway. He reached the door in time to see their rental car turn the corner at the end of the street.