Notes: This is a Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys crossover. It is also non-graphic slash.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hardys, the Drews, their friends, or anything else recognizable.
A/N: Do not expect updates this frequently. I'm on vacation from work, so I have some time on my hands that I normally wouldn't.
Nikki – It's one of those three. Which, I'm not telling. :-P You'll find out soon, though… one or two chapters from this. And thanks!
Red Hardy – People will figure it out, I promise… but not by Frank telling them. :looks mysterious:
Cariluv – Thanks! As for what Frank's hiding, the secret will come out, a little too soon for his comfort…
Haley – :-D I've written a lot of fanfiction, just not Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew before. I do tend to make the characters a bit more serious than they appear in the books, but… :)
Lady Emily – Thank you. I try to keep it clean, and spell check is my best friend.
Nancy Nickerson – Nancy shows up… :drumroll: …now :) Well, sort of... she is in this chapter.
Valin – Thanks, kiddo :hugs: And I'm not being that abusive to them… yet :devil:
Little Kachina Whoa – Thanks :is honored:
Chapter 2
Joe glanced at the dishwasher, the red light indicating they were clean, then dumped his dishes in the sink. He could empty it later. Or mom would. She tended to go on cleaning frenzies when he or Frank was in the hospital, since dad wouldn't let her stay there 24/7.
He dropped back down into his chair, glancing at his watch. His father should be back from the police station in an hour or so, and then they'd head over to see Frank, try to talk him into opening up.
Sighing, he toyed with the placemat in front of him. He believed his brother that he didn't know who had attacked him, but not that he didn't know why. He knew Frank; the number of cases they'd been on together had honed their ability to communicate with each other with the most cryptic of comments, with body language – even just with their eyes. And yesterday, he'd seen in his brother's eyes that Frank was lying through his teeth.
He just couldn't understand why.
The ringing of the telephone dragged him out of his thoughts, away from the image of his brother's battered face and frightened expression. "I'll get it," he yelled for his mother's benefit, rising and grabbing the nearest extension. "Hello?"
"Is this Joe?" a familiar female voice asked, but Joe was too tired and strung out to place it right away.
"Yes." He paused, thinking for a moment, then gave up. "Who's this?"
"Joe, it's Nancy. Nancy Drew. How are you?"
The younger Hardy ran a hand through his hair, debating whether or not to tell Nancy what was happening. He decided he might as well; she knew Frank pretty well, and might be able to give him a new perspective. "Been better." He thought about going back to the chair but instead sat down where he was, leaning against the wall.
Nancy's manner changed instantly, her voice taking on the all-business tone he recognized from the cases they'd worked together. "What's wrong? Are you okay? Is Frank? Your parents?"
Despite himself, Joe chuckled at her rapid-fire questions. "Mom and dad and I are fine. Frank, on the other hand…" He trailed off, shaking his head before remembering she couldn't see him on the other end of the line. "Not so much. He took a pretty bad beating last night, and he knows why it happened, but he won't tell me or dad – or the police. The cops are looking into it, but Con Riley – he's a friend of ours, and dad's – thinks they're going to end up shelving it, because with Frank not talking, it looks…"
"Like he's into something illegal?" Nancy finished for him. He could almost hear her frown. "You know he's not."
Joe sighed. "Yeah, I know. And dad does, and mom. And so does Con, and the Chief, I think. But…" he shrugged mentally and sighed again.
"Do you have any other leads? Anything other than whatever Frank isn't saying?"
"Not a thing. Somebody grabbed him leaving – of all places – the library. Con got that much out of him. And some wino found him down an alley a few hundred yards away. Broken, cracked ribs, broken arm, and a concussion."
"Are you positive he even knows? Maybe he doesn't remember and doesn't want you to know that?"
"No," Joe replied, stretching his legs out in front of him. "He remembers. You can see it in his face. He's… he's hiding something, Nan." Joe heard his voice waver slightly and he shook his head, deciding to change the subject. "But this isn't why you called."
"No, but I'm glad I did." Nancy paused. "My father has to go to New York. His flight is leaving this afternoon and he asked me if I wanted to come with. I was calling to see if you guys would be around. I take it you will be?"
Joe scoffed. "Yeah. We aren't going anywhere. Dad's threatening to not let Frank out of the house until he tells him what happened."
"Frank must be frustrated."
"That's the strange part. He doesn't seem to care. When dad said that, he just nodded and turned away."
"That doesn't sound like him."
"None of this sounds like him," Joe snapped, then hung his head. "Sorry, Nan. I'm just…"
"No apology necessary," she replied warmly. "I understand."
"He's scared of something," he said softly.
"Wouldn't you be?" Nancy asked pointedly. "He was just attacked, Joe."
"I know. But I don't think it's that. It feels like he's afraid of me, or dad. Or the cops. It just doesn't seem like he's afraid of whoever attacked him. And, unless there's something really weird going on, it doesn't make sense to me that he even would be. Frank's been in fights before, been jumped for no reason – well, what seemed like no reason at the time, anyway. And these guys weren't trying to kill him; his injuries aren't bad enough for that." Joe shook his head. "No, I really think he's afraid of us finding out whatever it is he's hiding."
Nancy was quiet for a long moment, so long that Joe was starting to wonder if they'd gotten disconnected when she finally spoke. "Joe, asking as a detective… what are your instincts saying?"
"That he's in trouble. That he's breaking the law. That's he on drugs or… something. I don't know, Nan. But I know he wouldn't do that. He'd at least come to me, if not mom and dad. I know he would."
"How? How do you know he wouldn't try to deal with it on his own?"
He hesitated, glancing toward the doorway. At that moment, he heard the vacuum turn on upstairs. No chance of their mother overhearing, at least. "When he was sixteen, he got into that accident, on his bike… you remember?" It was a hit-and-run. A car had sideswiped Frank not far from their house, not hard enough to kill him, but enough to leave him in serious pain for a long time afterward.
"I remember."
"They put him on Vicodin. After about a week on that stuff, he was starting to get worried, because he wasn't hurting nearly as much anymore, but he still wanted it, and the doctors were still giving it to him. He wasn't addicted, not really, and he wasn't doing anything wrong, but he thought he was heading for trouble and he came to me. Asked me what he should do, even asked me to keep an eye on him!"
He drew a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "I know he'd have come to me, Nan."
"Joe, in that situation, he wasn't in trouble. But what if now, he is? What if he's in over his head, and doesn't want to put that on you?"
"Nancy, he'd come to me!"
Joe could almost picture her holding up her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Just playing devil's advocate, trying to see how sure you were." She went quiet again, and he could imagine the wheels turning in her mind. "I'm going to fly out with my father; I'll rent a car in New York and drive out. Maybe together, we can figure this out? Or maybe I can get Frank to talk to me?"
Now he understood why Frank must like planning so much. Listening to Nancy outline like that made him feel a little better, like they were at least doing something, rather than sitting around feeling frustrated. "Sounds good."
"Oh, and Joe? Have you tried talking to Callie? Maybe she'd have better luck? Or maybe she'd have an idea what's going on?"
"They broke up… months ago, actually."
Nancy was silent for a second. "I didn't know."
"Well, you were out of the country when it happened, then we were, and we haven't gotten together in a long time…" Joe trailed off. "Neither of them seemed that upset about it, and Frank put it behind him pretty quickly. Nan—"
She interrupted him. "It's fine, Joe. I'm just surprised, that's all."
He frowned. "All right." At that moment, a car pulled into the driveway. Hauling himself to his feet, Joe stretched the phone cord to its limit, leaving the kitchen so he could look outside. "Listen, Nancy, my dad's home early. I gotta go, but I'll let everyone know you'll be coming by. You have my cell, right? In case no one's home when you get here?"
"Yeah. I'll call when I'm about to hit Bayport, and you can tell me where I should head."
"Sounds good. I'll talk to you later. And, Nan?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
-------------------------
Frank eyed Joe warily as his younger brother sat down in one of the chairs, raising his feet and resting them on the metal frame of the bed. "What's up, bro?" Joe asked cheerily.
"Not me," he muttered. He wanted to get out of this bed, out of the hospital, away from the nurses and the doctors and the constant beeping of all the machines. He wanted to be at home, in his room, where he could lock the door and not have to deal with anyone if he didn't want to. "Why are you in such a good mood?"
"Nancy's coming to visit," he replied.
Frank's eyes narrowed. "Called in reinforcements?" he asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice – and failing miserably.
Joe looked at him askance and rolled his eyes. "No. Her dad is going to be in New York on business. She called us looking to see if we'd be around, wanting to get together. Chill out, bro. You're acting like you've got something to hide."
He didn't mistake the tone in Joe's voice, nor the look in his eyes, and glared. "Can it, Joe."
"No. Frank, tell me what's going on! You've always trusted me. Why not now?"
"Because it's none of your business."
"Ah ha. So you admit you know something!"
Dammit. "Joe, please…"
"I'll lay off, when you give me a reason to."
"I… I'm not doing anything wrong, Joe. I just… you've always trusted me, too." Frank swallowed hard as the frustration on his brother's face gave way to sadness.
"Yeah, I have. But you've never lied to me before. You've never kept secrets from me before. What do you expect?"
"Please, Joe. This… this is personal, and I'll tell you. Eventually. Just not yet."
"Frank, someone beat the crap out of you, in case you hadn't noticed," Joe replied testily, waving a hand toward the monitors beside the bed. "You are in a hospital. Personal or not, this is obviously something you can't deal with by yourself. And it is my business, because you're my brother and anybody who messes with you gets the honor of messing with me, too. And I'm not as nice as you are."
In spite of himself, Frank cracked a smile. That was one of – just one of – the things he loved about Joe. He couldn't count anymore the number of times they'd been in trouble, literally hours, minutes, seconds away from death, but Joe had always been able to make him laugh, to ease some of the tension. He knew that Joe thought his sense of humor made people – Frank and their father included – not take him seriously. But it was one of things he valued most about his little brother. "Thanks."
"Seriously, though, Frank. What are you afraid of?"
"You wouldn't understand."
"Try me."
Frank stared at Joe as a little voice in his mind scolded him to just tell him and be done with it. He won't care. He'll help. You'll feel better if you tell someone. But he couldn't shake the worry that he'd be letting Joe down somehow. "Not now, Joe. I'm sorry."