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.
Lady Emily – Thanks! Here's your update :)
Myra – Thank you. :hugs: And I don't think I intend to be that evil in this… not in line with Pain or WWMB, for example.
Valin – I intend to. :-P
Julzprice – Hope you survived chemistry ;) And, well, you're going to find out very soon what Frank's hiding. Here's your update, so you can breathe again :)
Katie Janeway – No apologies necessary, though I won't deny that I love the reviews :-D Thank you
Angry penguin - :whistles: Well, you'll see…
Caleb – Oh, you ain't seen nothin' yet for cliffies ;) I love them, use them endlessly. And they do just keep getting worse.
Red Hardy – What did you think had happened? I'm curious now :-P I love writing conversations between the boys. Their dynamic is so much fun, even when – hell, especially when – they aren't getting along :-D
Chapter 3
"Hey." Nancy let the door to Frank's room close behind her. "Seen better days, huh?"
"A few," he said, his voice absent the sparkle she was used to hearing when they got together for a case when they hadn't seen each other for a while. "I'm not going to be much company, Nan."
"Who said I was looking for company?" she asked gently, moving toward the bed and sitting down on the side. She reached over and brushed his hair out of his face. "Joe tells me you might be in some trouble."
Frank's eyes narrowed. "He told me he didn't call you!"
"He didn't." Nancy arched an eyebrow. "But are you really one to be getting all angry at people for maybe lying to you?"
He had the good grace to look abashed. "Sorry."
She took his hand, squeezing it lightly. "A lot of people are pretty worried about you. Your parents, Joe, some of you friends… me."
"Don't be."
Nancy gave him a pointed look. "You aren't serious. You're incapable of not worrying about Joe if it even looks like he's in trouble, and now you're lying to your parents – and the police – and you expect us not to worry about you?"
"I'm fine."
"No you aren't. Frank, you're lying to the police, and not in the 'no, officer, I'm staying out of this investigation completely' kind of way. You're hiding things from your parents, from Joe. This isn't like you. At all. Can't you see why we're so worried?"
When Frank shook his head and turned away, she decided to take another approach. "Right now the assumption is that you're into something illegal, Frank. Probably drugs. And for that—"
The older Hardy jerked his head around. "What? Nancy, you know—"
It was her turn to interrupt. "You want to know what I know? I know you'd never lie to Joe. I know that you'd never let someone get away with a crime just because you were scared. You're right. I know you'd never use drugs, or deal, or whatever. But, well, looking at where we stand with the first two, it's sort of shaking my faith in the third."
Frank closed his eyes, pulling his hand away from hers. When he opened them again, the defiance was gone, replaced with pain. "Nancy, I swear – I swear on Joe's life – that this has nothing to do with drugs. I'm not breaking the law at all."
"Withholding—"
"Stop it, Nancy. Believe me or not. I don't care." But she could tell from the look in his eyes that he did.
"Fine. Have it your way." Without another word, she turned and left.
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"Any luck?" Joe asked, hopping to his feet when he saw her heading down the hall in his direction.
"Well, he swears on your life that he's not doing anything illegal."
"Withholding—"
Nancy gave a short laugh. "I tried that. He told me I could believe him or not, he didn't care. He does, but…" she shrugged. "After that I gave up and left."
"And?"
"I believe him."
"Any ideas?"
"A few." Nancy dropped into a chair and Joe sat back down beside her. "He's scared, which means he's scared for someone. Question is who. And right now, everyone is assuming he's afraid for himself. But what if he isn't?"
"You think maybe he's protecting someone else?"
"If someone threatened you or your parents – or even your friends – and threatened to kill whoever it was if he told anyone… would he tell you?"
"Our friends, yeah. Mom and dad… maybe. Me…" Joe shook his head. "Probably not. He's a stubborn jackass like that." When Nancy smirked at him, he ducked his head. "Just like me."
They sat in silence for a second before he asked her, "You really think that's it?"
"No."
"Me either. Why don't you?"
"Because I don't see Frank reacting like this to something like that. He'd be scared, yeah. But there'd be more anger. And I don't see him just rolling over like this. He'd be planning something." She paused. "Your turn."
"I just don't think he'd have lied. I think he'd have told us flat out that something was up but he'd handle it, and he'd let us know if we could help. He wouldn't ever actually let us know, but he'd say he would. Because he knows that the less he tells me the more I'm going to try to find out what the hell is going on."
"Square one," Nancy muttered.
"Square one."
Nancy sagged back in the chair, resting her head on Joe's shoulder. "I'm out of ideas at the moment."
"We may have something."
Joe jerked his head up, hearing Nancy's "Ow!" as she straightened as well. Glancing over at her, he saw her scowl.
"Sorry."
"Yeah, yeah." She raised a hand to rub her neck and then massage the side of her head as he turned toward his father.
"What?"
"Another young man, someone in your class at school, was beaten early this morning. He was brought in around three am."
"You think it's the same people who went after Frank?"
"Might be. We don't know yet. Con's going to call us if he comes up with anything. They're talking to the parents now."
Joe watched his father's eyes shift toward Nancy. "Did you have any luck talking to Frank?"
"Came up empty. He's not talking."
Fenton ran a hand through his hair. "All right. Why don't you two head home? Visiting hours aren't over yet, but I don't see a point in any of us staying around here."
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Joe carried his brother's bag up the stairs, setting it at the foot of his bed, then headed back out into the hall. He watched Frank move slowly up the steps, clinging to the railing, probably fighting off another dizzy spell. Part of him wanted to help him, put an arm around his back and give him something to lean on. But the other part of him – probably a little childish, he had to admit – decided that he didn't want to help Frank.
After all, his older brother had made it clear that he didn't want his help right now. Or, possibly, anytime soon.
Almost at the top of the stairs, Frank raised his eyes, meeting Joe's for just a second before he looked away. Joe stepped aside and Frank passed him, heading straight for his room, not saying a word.
Joe stared at his brother's closed door for a moment before turning and walking into his own bedroom, flopping down on the bed. Frank had been released around three – right around the time Con had shown up at the hospital to inform the Hardys that another Bayport High student had been assaulted. At their father's urging, Con and come into Frank's room to deliver the news.
They wanted to see how Frank would react to the information, and it had both paid off and not. He'd visibly started, convincing Joe that Frank suspected the attacks were related. But it hadn't prompted his brother to open up in the least.
"Damn it, Frank." Joe rolled over and punched his pillow. "Talk to me, you stubborn…"
He wasn't sure how he felt about the idea of the attacks being connected. That just further suggested that Frank was mixed up in something he shouldn't be. But, at least they might have a chance at figuring out what was going on now, since Frank seemed less than inclined to suddenly start singing.
Plus, with other kids involved, the police couldn't decide to shelve the case because the victim was one uncooperative potential druggie – which was the feeling he'd been getting from the police he'd been in contact with over the last couple days.
"Joe!" At his mother's shout, he rolled back over and sat up.
"Coming," he muttered, heading for the door.
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Nancy slipped her and Joe's plates into their spots in the dishwasher, jumping when the phone rang. "Joe?" she shouted. As far as she knew, Frank was asleep.
"I got it," he called back. A second later she heard his muffled, "Hello?"
Turning back around, she surveyed the table, moving to push both their chairs in. Fenton and Laura had gone to pick up Gertrude Hardy from the bus station. They'd tried to talk her out of coming, fearing that her heavy-handedness wouldn't help the situation. But she'd have none of it and had, in fact, purchased her ticket before even talking to them about it.
She wiped down the counter with a cloth and then draped it over the faucet before heading into the living room. Joe was just hanging up the phone. "Nan, I'm going to head over to Vanessa's for a while." He looked a little uncertain. "Do you mind?"
"No, of course not. Go ahead. You deserve a break." She'd lost count of the number of times she'd seen him standing outside his brother's room, staring at the closed door.
"Let me know if Con – or anybody – calls? Or if Frank suddenly decides to spill?"
She gave him a rueful smile. "Somehow, I don't see that happening in the near future, but I'll let you know."
"Thanks." Joe headed upstairs and Nancy headed for the couch. A few minutes later he came back down, jacket slung over his shoulder. "I won't be out too long, Nan."
"Be careful, Joe. We still don't know why—"
The younger Hardy grinned. "Eyes in the back of my head, Nan."
She snickered. "But will they be open, is the question."
"Always."
"Right." Nancy watched him leave and then, as the door closed behind him, turned on the television.
Spending the next fifteen minutes flipping through the stations repeatedly, she finally gave up, leaving it on a music channel while her mind drifted over the conversations she'd had with Frank and Joe in the last day.
She believed in her heart that Frank wasn't involved in anything illegal. She could see his fear in his eyes, and didn't believe she'd be seeing that if what he was worried about was someone finding out he'd committed a crime or something.
Nancy sighed. Part of what bothered her – and, she suspected, Joe – so much wasn't just the deception. It was that she wasn't used to seeing him afraid, and it unnerved her. She found it especially unsettling that he seemed to be afraid of his parents and Joe.
The Hardys were the perfect family; the boys had always been able to go to their parents with anything. And the fact that, suddenly, Frank obviously didn't feel he could talk to anyone about whatever was going on made her nervous.
The ringing of the telephone jerked her out of her thoughts. Standing up, she crossed the floor quickly. "Hardy residence."
"Fenton Hardy please."
"He's… unavailable at the moment."
"Is Laura in?"
"No, she's not." Nancy frowned. "Who's calling?"
There was a hesitation at the other end of the line. "Officer Con Riley."
Nancy snickered. "This is Nancy Drew, Officer Riley." She'd met the man upon her arrival at the hospital earlier that day. "Do you always sound this suspicious?"
"My apologies, Miss Drew. I was a bit concerned with how vague you were about the Hardy's whereabouts."
"I was a bit concerned with who was looking for them. A friend of mine has been attacked," she reminded him. Con chuckled and she redirected the conversation. "Did you find anything out about the other two attacks?"
"We may have."
She frowned. "May have?"
Riley hesitated again. "I really need to speak directly to Mr. and Mrs. Hardy."
"Is that your way of saying you won't tell me?" Nancy padded back toward the couch, phone still to her ear. "Part of why I'm here is to help try to find out what's going on, officer."
She heard his sigh, followed by a shallow laugh. "Do I have you to thank for Frank and Joe's persistence? Or did they train you?"
"My father's a lawyer," Nancy responded, chuckling. After a second, though, she grew serious. "What do you have?"
"We found something that the two other students who were attacked have in common."
"Something that Frank has in common with them?" she asked, toying with the phone cord.
"Maybe. I don't know for sure."
"Riley, what—"
"They're both gay, one openly, and one has only a few friends and family members who know."
Con's words hung in the air and Nancy's eyes went wide. "Oh boy."
"Miss Drew, do you know—"
"I… have no idea. I wouldn't think, but… oh boy." Nancy glanced toward the ceiling under Frank's room. "Could… could you give me some time to talk to Frank, before you tell his parents what you've got? Please?"
"I—"
She could tell from the tone of his voice what he was going to say, and cut him off. "Frank's an adult. He's of legal age, and he has his rights. Please, give me some time to talk to him?"
After a long silence he finally replied, "I can't give you long. If it's true and Frank talks to us and doesn't want anything said, we can do that. But he has to talk. Otherwise, I have no choice but to go to his parents."
Nancy was struck by the compassion in Riley's voice. He seemed to have developed an affection for the Hardys somewhere along the line. "Thank you," she said sincerely.
"You're welcome. Miss Drew, I think you and I have reached the same conclusion. Please let Frank know that I don't care. I just want to catch these people before someone gets hurt worse."
"I will. And thank you," she repeated. Hearing the click on Riley's end, she rose to hang up the phone, then stopped at the bottom of the stairs, just staring up.