Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.

Thank you! To Wendylouwho10 as usual for reading for flow and content. Typos are mine and I find them all the time!

Rating/Setting: Rating is T. Started as kinda blue spine with a touch of Casefiles but is now completely AU. Frank is 20 and Joe is 19.

Author's Notes: Thanks for reading and reviewing :)

Chapter Seven

Callie sat quietly on the couch in her parents' house with Frank's head in her lap. The only sounds were ambient – the sound of the AC kicking on and the overly loud hum of the refrigerator that her parents desperately needed to replace. She took note of the background sounds and ignored them as she ran her fingers gently through his dark hair that had just a hint of a wave to it. Lifting her hand when it reached her leg she laid it back down at his hairline and began again. She had noticed that his hair was slightly oily which told her that Frank wasn't on his normal shower schedule. Frank had oily hair and always washed it every morning or it would be oily by mid-day. And now his hair was oily and it was only the early afternoon.

"Frank?"

"Yes," he answered opening his eyes and looking up into her face.

"Are you taking care of yourself?" she asked softly.

"I'm eating and sleeping." He closed his eyes. "I'm taking time away to be here with you." The words weren't said with any bitterness or sarcasm.

"You're here because your parents made you come," she said gently. When his eyes snapped to hers she added, "I'm not offended. You're always focused when something happens to Joe." Her eyes took on a far-away quality as she continued. "I remember those weeks when Joe and Iola were abducted. We were both burdened with survivor's guilt."

"It's not guilt that drove me then or now."

"I know," she whispered again. "It's love." Frank stared at her and she didn't turn away. "Don't worry about me during this time. I'll be fine. I want to help you and be there for you." She shook her head in a negative fashion. "But I know I don't have the skills to help and I know you NEED to be involved in this." Her hand went back to combing through his hair. "Do what you need to find Joe and bring him home but you need to be healthy to do that. Make sure you DO take care of yourself.

Come to me when you need to break away. I'll stop whatever I'm doing. I'll take a break from my job. Whatever. YOU are the most important thing to me right now and I know you NEED to find Joe." She smiled sadly. "I need for you to find him too because when you find him, you'll find that piece of you that is missing."

Frank pushed himself up so he was sitting facing her and reached out to touch her face. "What did I do to deserve you, Callie Shaw?"

He leaned in and she surrendered to his kiss. The kiss was passionate and intense. When he pulled back she was gasping for breath.

"I need to go," he said as he leaned in to kiss her lightly. But he didn't move from the couch.

She reached up and touched his face. "Be careful."

Carefully he stood and pulled out his phone. "Hi dad, I'm leaving Callie's now." He dropped his hand and the cell phone with the still open line to his side. "Thanks for understanding."

Callie stood and walked to the door with him. She pulled him into one last kiss not caring about the open phone line and what Mr. Hardy might hear. Joe was missing and there was still a chance that Frank could be targeted and she would not let him leave without another kiss. When they broke apart, she said, "Hurry home."

Frank nodded and left her standing on the porch.

As she watched him drive away she knew that Frank would never be the same if Joe wasn't found… or if he died. Putting a shaking hand to her mouth, she closed the door and leaned against it. She wouldn't just lose a friend in Joe; she might very well lose Frank to the darkness he was sure to enter. Walking away from the door, she hugged herself and tried to dismiss the dark thoughts from her mind.

.**********.

Fenton was waiting on the porch for Frank when he got home. Frank didn't rush out of the vehicle as he'd been on the phone with his father for the whole ride back to the house and if there had been anything new found, he'd already know about it. He stopped on the porch when his dad made no move to enter the house. "You coming in, dad?" Frank asked with his hand on the knob.

"Yates." Fenton turned his gaze from the yard to his son. "I just feel that if we can find out where Yates is or talk to him… we'd know what their game is and how to combat it. Maybe get a feel for what type of structure they might be holding Joe in and if he's near or far." Fenton stopped and shook his head. "We're grasping at straws. Discovering that exit ladder in a section of the campus without much traffic and cameras…." Fenton stopped.

It wasn't anything new to Frank. They had talked about all of this. The absence of any tangible lead had brought their investigation to a screeching halt – not that it had gotten very far to begin with. There was someone on the security recording putting out a 'closed for cleaning' sign in front of the locker/shower room, but no face. No one remembered the janitor who told them the locker was closing for cleaning. There was nothing. "Come on in, dad." Frank waited for his father to make a move forward before he opened the door.

He himself had a task to do. He had posted calendars on his bedroom wall once again listing when VanStall was taken as well as Yates and Joe. He needed to mark off day number four for his brother.

.**********.

Joe's head hung forward listlessly. With his eyes closed it was impossible to anyone to determine if he was awake or asleep just by looking at him. A kick to his leg caused him to raise his head and his eyes slowly opened. "I'm sorry, but you'll need to take a number. I'm afraid we're a little tied up at the moment."

The woman standing before him seemed unfazed. "This is the end of day four, Mr. Hardy. What is your decision about becoming an Assassin?"

"Unless the meaning of never has changed since yesterday, then the answer is the same." Joe's body ached from the constant sitting in the hard chair and his stomach was pained from the lack of food. There was also a constant headache and he was uncertain if that came from being dehydrated or from drugs.

"So be it, Joe. I'm afraid that you've lost what privileges you had," Maya said ignoring the sardonic laugh from Joe. "I'm afraid the rest of your stay won't be so pleasant."

Joe's eyes turned sharply to the door as it swung open and admitted two men he hadn't seen before. Both dressed as the woman before him in white. His eyes were drawn to their hands and concern was instant. One of the men came toward him with a pair of scissors and he was certain that he was about to have a bodily injury, but instead, the man grabbed the leg of Joe's shorts. His attention was removed from the man with the scissors when his head was yanked back and the leather strap placed back around his neck. He could feel the man in front of him cutting his shorts but then a buzzing sound brought his attention back up to his head as his hair began to fall around him. His mind was on overdrive trying to take in what was happening and then suddenly it was all over. His shorts and underwear had been cut off of him leaving him with no clothes and he was certain that all his hair had been shaved off. Joe looked back to the woman in front of him who had never moved during the whole ordeal.

"You have been laid bare, Joe Hardy. Your life is now forfeit. It is the choice you have made." She turned and walked from the room with the men following behind her.

"Wait!" Joe called, but there was no answer and he honestly didn't know what he would say to them. The lights cut off and loud dissonant music blared in the room as he hung his head.

.**********.

Hassan looked at the young broken man in front of him. "You know what you need to do?"

The bowed head was regrowing hair in a jagged, uneven fashion indicating that it had been removed by a quick and rough shave job weeks ago. "I do." The voice was firm and calm.

"You can be trusted to complete your mission?" Hassan asked quietly.

The bowed head rose showing a smattering of freckles across a pale face hollowed by hunger and shadowed with darkness. "She won't get away with what she did to me." The fire that had momentarily lit his eyes faded as they clouded with memories that must have been more pleasant. "I still can't believe…."

Hassan turned and walked to the door exiting the room. He turned back to the young man. "Soon, Jacob. You'll be ready to repay her for what she did."

"Yes," he nodded and lay on the cot in the room.

Hassan exited and walked around the corner to look through the two-way mirror. He glanced for a moment at the man beside him already looking through the mirror. "You are pleased with the progress?"

"I am. You have done well to have him trusting you after the pain you inflicted on him just a few weeks ago."

"Yes. The drug has confused his mind and he thinks that we in some way have rescued him even though he's in a room locked up and not being fed properly." Hassan laughed. "I have been surprised how easy it was to break him and VanStall. They would not have made it through Assassin training."

The man turned and looked at Hassan. "Do you think if we put you through what VanStall and Yates went through that you would have resisted? That you would be stronger than they were?"

Hassan tried to keep the fear from his face and his voice as he turned to his mentor. "I didn't mean—I don't wish to—"

"Then if you do not want to be the subject of an experiment to determine just how strong Assassins are, you would do well to remember that the man in that room was indeed very good at his job. He is not here just because he had a lucky shot. If that were all, we would have no need to teach anyone a lesson." The man turned back to the window.

"You are correct, Al-Rousasa. I will bear that in mind before speaking in the future." Hassan said deferentially.

Al-Rousasa didn't turn back to him but continued to look through the glass. "Be sure that you do."