A/N: I am so, so sorry for being slow in updating. There were a lot of reasons for it, including some crazy travels in my life, as well as me struggling a lot with this chapter. I have to admit, this chapter was a hard one to write, and (without begging too much) I would love to hear everyone's thoughts on it. Also, I just want to thank everyone who's stuck with this story so far, despite the long waits between updates. I promise you, no matter how long it takes me to update, I will not abandon you guys or this story. There is an ending to this, and we will get there eventually!

Disclaimer: Nancy – not mine. Joe – not mine. Frank – not mine (sadly). Other characters from the books – not mine either. I think you get the picture.

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Joe awoke to the sound of the television being turned on in the living room. He was normally a sound sleeper; it usually took his brother multiple attempts, and lots of grumbling and cursing (mainly by him, Joe admitted to himself) to get him up in the morning. But since his father had gone missing, he was constantly alert, even in sleep. He rose from the bed, grumbling slightly to himself. Being alert still didn't mean he was a morning person, and he glared at the alarm clock, which read 7:55 a.m., an ungodly early hour by his standards. Glancing down at his attire of a rumpled gray T-shirt and an even more rumpled pair of red boxer shorts, he shrugged his shoulders and decided that he wasn't going to shock Nancy with the outfit. After all, she had seen him in considerably less before.

He stumbled into the living room, squinting his eyes against the sudden brightness of the room, where someone had been thoughtful enough to open the blinds and let the morning sunlight stream in. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw his brother sitting on the couch, watching television. Nancy was nowhere in sight, and the door to her room was still closed.

Good, Joe thought. She needs the sleep.

"Morning, Frank," Joe mumbled, plopping down next to his brother on the couch. When Frank didn't respond, Joe grumbled under his breath, "And I thought I wasn't a morning person."

There was still no response.

Joe turned to look at his brother, about to snap at him for ignoring him. But the words died in his throat as he saw the look of frozen shock on his brother's face. Following Frank's gaze to the TV screen, Joe felt his own blood run cold.

There, on the television screen, larger than life and yet reduced to the size of a small electric box, was an image of the Peabody hotel. But it was not the Peabody hotel as Joe remembered it, from the case that they had solved in Memphis so long ago. The building's brick façade and the charming awnings that shaded the lower windows were all covered in black soot. Charred ashes rained from the sky to cover the sidewalk in front of the entrance below. As Joe watched, horror-stricken, an explosion erupted in front of his eyes, an aftershock to the much larger one that had obviously occurred before it. Two windows blew outwards from the impact, followed by a glaring ball of fire. Burning debris were pushed outward into the air with the force, suspended in mid-air as though time had frozen, before falling rapidly to the ground below, their charred shapes twisted beyond recognition. Through the boom of noise, people's screams could be heard in the background.

"Oh my God," Joe whispered.

Frank didn't respond. He wasn't capable. His throat had locked up on him the moment he had seen the images flash across the television screen.

"Oh my God."

The words were repeated, but it wasn't Joe who said them. The brothers whirled at the sound of Nancy's voice, and both leaped up from the sofa. She was standing behind the couch, her hair disheveled from sleep, shivering slightly in the tank top and flannel pajamas that she wore. Joe attempted to block the television screen with his body, but it was futile. Nancy simply stepped around him, her horror-filled gaze glued to the screen. As they all watched, the newscamera panned the area around the front of the hotel and to its sides. A police barrier had been erected, blockading what appeared to be a safe distance from the still occurring explosions. Beyond the barrier, ambulance lights flashed and fire truck sirens wailed. As the camera zoomed in, people could be seen sitting on the ground, covered in ash, faces smeared with blood and soot. Many were crying, while others sat dazed, still in shock. On the far right corner of the screen, a person could be seen laying on a stretcher. A paramedic came into view, and he pulled a sheet over the person's head, grief etched into his features. The chilling sight was interrupted by an anchorwoman appearing on the screen, her face somber.

"As you can see, the explosion that ripped through the famous Peabody Hotel in Memphis, Tennessee at 7 a.m. this morning has already claimed lives. Although we do not have an official count at this time, it is estimated that at least eight people have died from the explosion. Rescue personnel are attempting to reach the affected area now, but their efforts are being hampered by the fires still burning in the building. As they reach the original site of where the first explosion was believed to occur, on the eleventh floor of the hotel, it is expected that the death toll will rise as they locate people who were not able to escape. At this time, the cause of the explosion is still unknown. Reporting live, this is Amber Collins."

"My room was on the eleventh floor," Nancy whispered. "The room that the kidnappers had booked for me." She looked at Frank then, but she didn't see him. Her gaze simply looked right through him.

"They did this…because of me." She stumbled over the words. "All those people…hurt…dead…because of me."

"Nancy, no." Frank reached out to her, but she pulled back from his outstretched hand.

"Because of me," she repeated in a heart-breaking whisper, and turned and fled from the room.

Frank sank to the coffee table, his legs giving way under him. His head dropped into his hands, and his fingers gripped his hair tightly.

"Oh my God," he whispered.

Joe squeezed his brother's shoulder, but he had no idea what to say to him. His own stomach had yet to unclench after seeing that horrific news report, and after realizing that Nancy had nearly been one of the casualties. He could only imagine what his brother and Nancy might be feeling right now.

He sighed, dragging his hand through his curly blond hair. He went back into the bedroom and came out moments later, dressed in a more respectable attire of jeans and a gray V-neck sweater. Frank was still sitting where he had left him. Joe walked over to him and shook his shoulder slightly. Frank dragged his head up to look at him, the lines of his face tight with worry.

"I think it's time to get the FBI involved, Frank."

Frank stared at him blankly for a moment, then slowly nodded his head.

"You're right, Joe. This isn't just about us anymore. Innocent people are getting hurt, and we're not doing so hot on our own right now."

The last words were self-deprecating, and Joe gave his shoulder another bracing squeeze.

"We'll figure it out, Frank. We always do. Right now, I'm going to go to the Chicago FBI headquarters and drop off the note and the hotel reservations for fingerprinting. The FBI's already going to be involved in this," Joe said, looking at the television screen, which was still flashing through the devastating images. "We need to let them know our suspicions, and that this may not have been caused by foreign terrorists. While I'm there, I'll also give our director a call and catch him up on what's going on." Joe gave a wry smile. "Once he's finished yelling at me, I'm sure he'll help."

Frank returned the smile, but it was weak at best. Joe gave him a firm look. "Meanwhile, you check on Nancy. And make her talk. If she doesn't let it out soon, she's going to explode."

Frank paled, and Joe grimaced. "Bad choice of words. Really bad choice. But you know what I mean."

Frank nodded slowly and rose from the coffee table. "Yeah. Yeah, I do." He thumped his brother on the back in a brotherly hug. "Thanks, Joe."

Joe was relieved to see a determined gleam replace the haunted look in his brother's eyes. Without another word, he flipped the television off, grabbed the Ziploc bag that contained the tainted papers from the desk and left the room.

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The door to Nancy's room was open, but the bathroom door was closed. Frank leaned his forehead against it for a moment, trying to gather words that simply weren't there. On the other side of the door, he could hear small sounds which sounded terribly like retching. Those sounds were followed by the more distinct ones of sobbing. Frank knocked on the door softly -- words or no words, he wasn't leaving her alone.

"Nancy?" he called.

There was no reply.

"Nancy?" he tried again. "It's me, Frank. Please open up."

Again, there was no response, but it seemed that the sobs got slightly louder. Unable to wait any longer, he opened the door, which was thankfully unlocked.

Nancy was on the floor of the bathroom, her back braced against the cabinet under the sink. Her legs were pulled into her chest, and her arms were wrapped tightly around them. Her forehead rested against her knees, her face pressed hard against the bone. She was crying, huge, racking sobs that shook her slender frame with their force. The sound of them ripped at Frank's heart. In all the years that he had known her, he had never, ever seen her like this. She was always so determined, so spirited, even when things seemed at their bleakest. It was rare to ever see her cry, and never like this, as if she would shatter from the force of it.

Wordlessly, he walked over and knelt beside her. He slipped one arm behind her head, between her back and the cabinet. The other arm he slipped under the bend of her legs. Rising, he lifted her up from the floor into his arms, adjusting her more comfortably as he stood. Nancy didn't protest; she simply released her arms from her knees to wrap them around his neck, burying her face against his chest. He walked out into the living room, where he sat down on the sofa, cradling her on his lap. He didn't say anything; he just held her tightly pressed against his chest while the storm ran its course.

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Nancy cried until she simply had no tears left. Her violent sobs slowed to small choking sounds, then to slight gasps, until she finally quieted, spent from her outburst. In the silence, she could hear Frank's steady heartbeat under her cheek, and she felt herself gradually begin to calm. His left hand was tracing soothing circles on her back, while his right one stroked her hair tenderly. She took a deep steadying breath, then spoke into his chest.

"I'm sorry."

He said nothing for a moment, just continued to hold her. Then, he pulled her away from him slightly and tipped her chin up so that she was looking at him. He gave her a mildly reproachful look.

"You know you have absolutely nothing to apologize for, Nan."

She laughed, but the sound held nothing but bitterness.

"Don't I?"

She took a deep breath, then continued. "I made somebody angry enough that they kidnapped my father, nearly blew up my two best friends, and now murdered God-knows how many people, just to get at me. And now, to top it all off, I've just gone and cried all over you."

His gaze was at once exasperated and sorrowful. "You can't blame yourself for this, Nancy. The only actions that you can be responsible for are your own, and everything that you just mentioned are not your actions. Well, except for the crying bit," he amended. "But that's certainly not something that you need to apologize for."

He tried to give her a light smile, but she was having none of it.

"How can you say that I'm not responsible?" she cried. "Fine, maybe I'm not the one who kidnapped my father, or going around blowing people up, but it's happening because of me. Of course I'm responsible!"

Frank grasped her shoulders and shook her slightly. "Stop it, Nancy! What's gotten into you? Since when do you blame yourself for the actions of madmen?"

"Since those madmen kidnapped my father and nearly killed my friends!" she retorted angrily. Then, suddenly, she slumped forward, burying her head against his chest, the fight gone out of her as suddenly as it had appeared. "Since innocent people were killed because I didn't do as I was told," she whispered brokenly.

"Oh, Nan," Frank murmured. He laid his cheek against the top of her head, rubbing it against her hair gently. "You don't know that. They were most likely planning on setting that bomb off anyway. And if you had gone, if you had been in your room like they had planned…" His voice cracked, and his arms tightened around her convulsively. It was moments before he could speak again.

"If something had happened to you, I don't know what I would have done," he finished brokenly.

"Frank…" Nancy pulled slightly away to look up at him, and the look in his warm brown eyes made her own throat lock up. She laid a comforting hand against his cheek and stroked it gently. "Oh Frank, I'm sorry. I didn't even think…"

He shook his head, silencing her. "It's okay, Nan." His smile was gentle. "It's a risk that we take every day. You know that as well as I do. And so do our families and loved ones. Bess and George don't blame you, Nan. They know the dangers associated with what you do, both for yourself and for them. And they still choose to be a part of your life."

"But what if they're wrong? What if that choice gets them killed one day? How could I ever live with that?"

Frank started to respond, then stopped when he realized that he had no easy answer. The logical side of him wanted to argue that it wouldn't be her fault, that it was still Bess and George's choice to make. But he knew it wasn't that simple. If something did happen to her loved ones, either directly or indirectly because of her, Nancy would blame herself. That was just the kind of person she was. And he wasn't sure what to say that would convince her otherwise.

Nancy's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Do you know, it's been almost a year since I've taken on a case or solved a mystery?" she said, almost conversationally. She felt, rather than saw, Frank's small jerk of surprise. Meeting his eyes, she gave him a small, bitter smile.

"It was right after Ned and I broke up. He predicted something like this would happen. He asked me what I would do if we started a family, and someone came after them because of my detective work." She gave another small, bitter laugh.

"I didn't have an answer for him then, and I definitely don't have one now."

Frank felt a small surge of anger towards the other man, which he ruthlessly squashed. Whether it was justified anger or irrational jealousy, neither would help Nancy at the moment. Instead, he replied calmly, "You would protect them."

"What?"

"Your family. You would protect them, with your life if that's what it took."

Frank's gaze was even on hers, and Nancy felt a small burst of warmth inside her at the unwavering faith in his voice. He believes in me, a small voice inside of her said. But a year's worth of self-doubt and disillusionment was not so simple to overcome.

"They wouldn't need protecting if I weren't who I am."

Frank grasped her shoulders tightly, the force in his voice echoing the force in his touch. "You're looking at this all wrong, Nancy. The world we live in is full of dangers, full of psychopaths and criminals. Whether or not you are who you are, your loved ones will always be exposed to them. But by being who you are, you help make this world a safer place for them. You put the bad guys away, and you fight for what's right."

Nancy jerked her shoulders free from his tight grasp. "Stop making me sound like a damn hero, Frank. I'm not. I'm just a woman, that's all. Just an ordinary woman."

"If you're just an ordinary woman, then I'm the queen of England," Frank muttered, growing frustrated. But he saw Nancy's lips twitch, ever so slightly, and a reluctant smile spread on his own face. "You're the farthest thing possible from an ordinary woman." His voice grew serious again, and he cupped his right hand gently against her cheek. "You're amazing, Nancy Drew. You're a loyal friend, a loving daughter, a brilliant detective, and an incredible woman. If anyone's ever tried to tell you otherwise, they're just plain wrong." Like Ned, he finished silently, but he didn't say it aloud.

But he had forgotten about her uncanny ability to read his thoughts.

"You mean Ned," she said, and it wasn't a question.

Frank sighed deeply. "Yeah, I meant Ned." He gave her a look that was simultaneously apologetic and probing. "I promised myself I wasn't going to bring him up, Nan, but…"

"…I brought him up myself," Nancy finished for him.

"Yeah."

Now it was Nancy's turn to sigh. She tried to shift off Frank's lap, simply because she knew this conversation would be awkward enough without their seating arrangements, but Frank didn't loosen his arms from around her. Rather than make the situation more uncomfortable by struggling, she stilled and met his gaze.

"You want to know why we broke up."

To her surprise, Frank shook his head. "No. I told you before that I wouldn't ask you what happened, and I meant it. But what I do want to know is why you lost touch with me over the years, even before you and Ned broke up. You said that the break-up happened about a year ago, but you started drawing away from me long before then. Why?"

Nancy's breath caught in her throat. A part of her had hoped that Frank wouldn't have noticed the distance that she had gradually put between them over the years, but another part of her, the more honest part, knew that he was too intelligent and knew her too well not to. And she had dreaded the day that he would ask her why, because she was ashamed of the answer. That shame was reflected in her eyes, and her gaze dropped away from his. Frank caught the gesture and frowned.

"Nancy?" he probed gently. "Whatever it was, you can tell me. I promise you won't hurt my feelings. I just need to know. Was it something I did?"

At this, the guilt in her expression increased, and Frank knew that she was about to confirm what he had been suspecting for a long time now.

"Did it have something to do with Ned?" he guessed.

Agitated, Nancy rose to her feet, forcing Frank to release her. She paced several steps away, keeping her back to him. Finally, after Frank had become nearly positive that she wasn't going to respond, she spoke.

"Yes," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Frank felt a twist in his gut at the single word, but he didn't say anything, waiting for her to continue. He watched as her arms wrapped around her slender waist, her hands gripping her elbows tightly. Gathering her bearings, she turned around to face him, but she still did not meet his eyes.

"I was wrong, Frank, and as much as I hate to admit it, I was weak. Ned and I got into a really huge argument about you, right after I started college, and he told me that I had to choose between you and him." Against her will, tears filled her eyes as she finally looked at Frank. "I chose him, Frank. I'm so sorry." The tears spilled over and streamed silently down her cheeks. Despite the pain that her words had caused him, Frank rose to go to her, but she shook her head, stopping him.

"I know it was wrong. It was wrong of Ned to give me that ultimatum, and it was wrong of me to sacrifice a friendship that meant so much to me. But I was so afraid of losing him." She gave a bitter laugh. "Imagine that, Nancy Drew, girl detective, afraid of losing her boyfriend. It almost sounds pathetic in hindsight. But he had been my constant, the one steady thing in my life. No matter where my cases took me, what horrors I encountered, he was always there for me to come home to. I had built my dreams around him, envisioned us married, having a family. And I was so afraid of losing those dreams."

"Nan," Frank began, but she shook her head at him again. Now that she had started, she wanted to get it all out.

"In the end, it still wasn't enough. Even though I had pushed you away, Ned still resented my being a detective and the fact that I never seemed to have enough time for him. And he was right – I didn't. He tried to be understanding, tried not to get mad at me every time I had to cancel a date, or weekend plans, or a vacation because I was on a case. But I guess understanding has its limits. And in the end, he realized that his dreams didn't include being married to a detective who would put her career before him, who would endanger her family with her work. So he left."

Her gaze refocused on Frank, her eyes piercing.

"And then there was you."

"But I was already out of the picture." Frank tried hard to keep the bitterness from his voice, but he wasn't entirely successful.

"No, you weren't. I may have stopped seeing you, stopped solving cases with you, but Ned knew that we still occasionally stayed in touch. And even though my e-mails and phone calls may have seemed distant to you, Ned knew me too well. He knew that despite everything, my feelings for you never went away. When he broke up with me, he said that he almost regretted asking me to choose between you both, but that he only did it because he resented the connection that you and I have. In the end, though, he said that he couldn't break that bond, nor compete with it. And so he walked away."

"I never wanted to be the cause for your break-up, Nancy," Frank said quietly.

"You weren't. The only person responsible for my break-up with Ned was me. I couldn't be what he wanted. I was a detective, and he didn't want that. He broke up with me, but I felt responsible because it was my passion for investigating that drove him away. That's what made me stop taking on cases – my heart just wasn't in it anymore."

"You should have called me, Nancy. No matter how complicated our relationship is, I'm your friend. I would have been there for you."

Nancy's throat tightened. "I know," she said. "But I didn't trust myself to be around you. I didn't want to confirm Ned's suspicions, but a part of me knew that he was right about my feelings." Her voice broke at the end. She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders and forcing herself to look him in the eye. When she spoke, her voice was stronger.

"I was wrong, Frank. I never should have pushed you away. You've always been a good friend to me, and you deserved better than that. I wish that I could go back, that I could do things differently, but I can't. All I can do is tell you how sorry I am, and ask you to forgive me."

Frank stepped forward and wrapped his arms tightly around her. "You don't need to ask me to forgive you, Nan. I'm still here, and I'm not going anywhere. Neither is your passion for solving mysteries. Being a detective is in your blood. It's who you are. And loving someone means loving them for who they are, not despite of it. Ned was a fool if he couldn't understand that."

Nancy made a sound that could have been either a sob or a laugh, but it was muffled against his chest. "I missed you, Frank Hardy," she said quietly.

"I missed you too, Nan," Frank replied, placing a soft kiss on the top of her head. Nancy pulled back in his arms slightly, her vivid blue eyes meeting his warm chocolate ones. Without a conscious thought on either of their parts, they drew together, their lips meeting gently. Nancy's fingers threaded through Frank's thick hair, and his hands tightened around her waist. Neither of them heard the hotel room door open, or the sound of a throat clearing. It was only when Joe's "Um, guys?" penetrated that they pulled apart. Nancy's cheeks flushed bright red, and she tried to pull away from Frank, but he didn't release her. He simply wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close to his side, turning them in the direction of his brother. Joe couldn't help the broad smile that spread across his face, in direct contrast to the growing embarrassment on Nancy's and the utter calm on his brother's.

"Sorry, guys," Joe said, although his tone was anything but apologetic. "Normally, I would never think of breaking up a romantic moment like that, but I have news."

Nancy was still working on getting her voice back, so Frank was the one who responded, in a much more normal voice than he thought was possible given the circumstances.

"What is it, Joe? What did you find?"

"Krieger escaped from his Egyptian jail cell three weeks ago. The Egyptian police were never able to catch up with him, but I ran some of his known aliases through the FBI database and finally found him."

Frank felt Nancy tense beside him. "Where is he?" Nancy asked, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it anyway.

Joe's expression turned grim. "He's back in the United States."

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A/N: I hope this chapter helped make up a bit for the long wait. For the action buffs out there, I promise that the pace will definitely pick up in the next chapter. Please review and let me know what you think!