A/N Hello, people! I apologize that I didn't update Friday like I said I would, but I had bowling practice, got horribly lost on the way home, so I got to spend a fun filled two hours lost in the car smooshed in the middle between my friend Margaret, and my sister's friend Caralyn. And by the time I got home I was too annoyed to update. And yesterday was my sister's birthday. So, I am updating today.

Thanks for all the reviews!

Disclaimer: I own nada!

Callie Shaw pulled up in front of the dingy gray apartment building that the GPS locater in her car informed her was Joe's apartment. She glanced at the napkin on which he had scribbled his address to double check that she had the right address. She did. If someone had told her a year ago that her boyfriend would be dead, and his happy go lucky brother would be living in a crappy apartment in New York City she would've laughed in his or her face and told them they should see a psychiatrist. T

he door into the building was being held open with someone's shoe. Callie had a theory that it belonged to the tenant she had passed by on her way in. He'd been standing by a car smoking a cigarette. He probably didn't want to have to unlock the door when he came in. The blonde mentally shrugged, it just made it easier for her. That way she didn't have to wait for Joe to come down and let her in. She paused in the dingy, gray hallway and looked at the list of tenants for Joe's name. She spotted his name almost immediately; he lived in apartment 3B, which she assumed was on the third floor.

The blonde headed up the stairs and wrinkled her nose up as she passed the second floor which reeked of alcohol. Callie breathed a sigh of relief when she finally got to the third floor. Quite frankly, this building kind of grossed her out, she was also mildly afraid of the tenants, excluding Joe. She flinched as the sound of screaming came from above her head. It would seem that Joe's neighbors didn't get along all that well. Callie stopped in front of Joe's door spotting the note on the door.

Callie,

I went to the grocery store. If you're reading this, I didn't get back in time. There's a key under the mat, you can let yourself in. I should be back soon, the grocery store is only about a block away.

Joe.

Callie allowed herself a small smile at the blonde's familiar messy scrawl. She didn't smile that much anymore, no one in their circle of friends did. She knelt down and lifted the mat, quickly locating the dingy bronze colored key underneath. The blonde stood up and dusted off her jeans before inserting the key in the lock and entering the apartment.

The door swung open to reveal a small kitchenette. The walls were white and the counter was bare except for a few pieces of mail and a pen. If she didn't know better she would think no one lived in the house. Callie cautiously advanced further into the house and came to a stop in the living room. The only furniture in the room was a small wooden coffee table and a couch that looked like it had seen better days. There was also a small television set in the corner.

Callie took a seat on the couch and nervously drummed a beat with her fingernails on the arm of said sofa. After ten minutes of waiting in such a fashion Callie glanced at her watch and wondered what on earth was taking Joe so long. If he hadn't given up his old life she would think he'd been kidnapped. She mentally shuddered she hated being alone for longer then a few minutes, whenever she was on her own she couldn't help but remember Frank dying. Callie shook her head in an attempt to keep the thoughts at bay but she was unable to stop the memory she wanted to suppress the most from jumping to the forefront of her mind.

Flashback

Callie Shaw was alone in her house for the night, her parents were out to dinner with some friends of theirs. It was a quarter to eleven and she was contemplating whether she wanted to watch a movie or just flip the channels to find something semi-interesting to watch until she went to bed. She considered her collection of movies for a few moments and decided that she wasn't much interested in watching any of them. Instead she pressed power on her remote and proceeded to flip through the channels looking for something interesting to watch. She paused in her channel switching when she came to channel seven, the local news station, it was a live report of some sort and it was showing the face of some cliff (overlooking Barmet Bay she assumed) which was engulfed in flames. Callie realized that the volume was muted and hit the button to turn it up.

"…police have refused to comment as of yet, but sources reveal that local teens Frank and Joe Hardy were taken hostage by the child serial killer who has been plaguing Bayport and the surrounding cities. Witnesses spotted Joe Hardy being taken by ambulance to Bayport General Hospital. We will be standing by to supply more updates as we get them. Back to you Alex." Some blond haired reporter was speaking but Callie couldn't remember her name. Katie? Carrie? Something like that. She couldn't quite comprehend what had happened. Frank and Joe were in an accident? Joe was hurt? Where was Frank? All thoughts of spending the remainder of the evening curled up on her couch forgotten Callie hurriedly grabbed her car keys and rushed out the door not caring that she was currently dressed in her pajamas or that she had left all the lights on in the house.

Callie reached the hospital in ten minutes, and dimly wondered how she had managed to avoid getting pulled over. She had been going at least thirty miles over the speed limit the entire way to the hospital. If people thought the young woman dressed in plaid pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt proclaiming 'Bayport High' on it looked strange they didn't show it. No one so much as glanced her way as she rushed up to the nurses' station in the emergency room. "Has Frank or Joe Hardy been admitted?" Callie asked the nearest nurse.

"Are you family?" The nurse asked.

"Yes. I'm his sister." Callie replied. The nurse eyed her suspiciously but didn't question her further.

"He's in room 615." She answered. Callie concluded that this nurse must be new considering that the entire hospital staff knew who the Hardys were. Joe had once joked that they had rooms permanently reserved for them. She pondered this no further and headed to the elevator and pressed the button for the sixth floor. Callie navigated the corridors with the ease of someone who'd been there far too many times before. She paused outside of Joe's door feeling a sense of dread wash over her. The blonde pushed the negative feelings aside and knocked lightly on Joe's slightly ajar door before walking in. The detective was awake and staring toward her with haunted eyes.

"He's dead."

"What?" Callie asked not understanding who he was talking about.

"Frank." Joe said a shudder racking his frame.

"Frank what?" She couldn't comprehend the other's words surely he wasn't saying that Frank was dead.

"Frank's dead. Blown up. All my fault." Joe said his lower lip quivering so slightly that she wasn't sure if it was her vision blurring or if Joe was about to start crying. Probably some combination of both because in the next second tears had started pouring down Joe's face and Callie's head spun.

"N-no." She gripped the wall for support. Was the world supposed to spin? Her ears were ringing and it felt like her brain was knocking against the inside of her skull. Joe's blood pressure was starting to sky rocket and a monitor was going off but Callie couldn't hear it over the ringing in her ears. The next thing she knew a doctor, two nurses, and an orderly were rushing into the room. She was aware of them trying to calm down Joe and then the world spun dangerously once more and she sank to the floor, Joe's words echoing in her head. Frank dead. Blown up. Just like Iola. My fault. Dead. Dead. Dead. Blown up. Frank. Iola. Her best friend. Her boyfriend. Joe's brother. His girlfriend. Frank. Dead. Frank. She was going to be sick, there wasn't enough air. Someone was shaking her. She couldn't make out what they were saying.

"Miss? Are you all right?" She wasn't all right. She never would be. The ringing had faded to a faint buzzing and she noted that the sound of Joe's sobs had died away. From her position on the floor she couldn't tell whether he was still awake but she was fairly certain that they would have sedated him. Callie opened her mouth to reply to whoever it was that was speaking to her but she couldn't seem to convince her vocal cords to cooperate. Instead of calmly saying I'm fine like she'd intended the blond burst into tears. Frank could not be dead. There was no way. She would not believe it. No. No. No.

She was being pulled up from the floor by someone, a nurse? Callie blinked at the hospital worker through the tears that obscured her vision. Definitely a nurse. Callie allowed herself to be steered from the room and down the hall where she was deposited in a chair. "What's your name Miss? Can I call someone for you?" Callie didn't respond. She had retreated into her mind and was wondering how Frank could possibly be…gone, she had seen him that morning. He wasn't dead. No way. It was a lie. The nurse snapped her fingers in front of the young woman's face in the hopes of getting a response. She received none. "Jen?" The nurse said calling to another woman in blue scrubs. "I think we should admit this girl for shock she's not responding to anything. I think she's a friend of the Hardys, we found her in Joe Hardy's room." The woman came over to her colleague and eyed Callie.

"Her name is Callie Shaw, she's Frank Hardy's girlfriend…"

"The guy who got blown up?"

"Yeah, it would seem that Miss Shaw just found out. Put her in cubicle three, I'm going to try and contact her parents. I'll look in her file; their number should be in there." Callie was dimly aware of the nurse helping he stand and leading her somewhere. The room was a blur and she wasn't quite sure of what was going on. She allowed herself to be steered toward a bed and obediently sat down on it. The nurse asked her something else but Callie wasn't sure what it was and she didn't much care. So she turned her attention away from the nurse and stared determinedly up at the white ceiling. This was all just a bad dream, she was sure of it, any minute now she would wake up on the couch in her living room and discover that she had fallen asleep in the middle of some boring television show. She was certain of it.

End Flashback

A/N I have Monday and Tuesday off school so I will be trying to write as many chapters as possible so that I can continue to update several times per week. Review. Update tomorrow.