Chapter 11: Fathers and Sons

*Chapter warning: Mention of a Character death from a closely associated fandom.

"N.D. Rodman? Mapleton, Illinois? None of that rang a bell with you?" Frank asked incredulously as he examined the carefully removed packaging that had once contained a very nice, but now dusty, wine rack. The wince rack was still in good condition, but the gift wrap paper and even the attached greeting card were now hermetically sealed and had a fine dusting of black powder on them from where Ezra Collig's crack team of crime scene investigators had thoroughly examined the wedding gift that had arrived at the Hardys' office days before.

Joe pierced his lips together as he listened to Frank rant.

"Nancy Drew Rodman! She married Ned's best friend a few years after Ned died in Iraq! Mapleton had been Ned and Buck's hometown!" Joe rolled his eyes at this older brother.

"Well if had said "Nancy" or "River Heights" or even "Drew" I might not have jumped the gun!" The younger brother defended. Frank shook his head and picked up the plastic-sealed greeting card that Joe had brought home with the gift.

"To Frank and Phil,

Wedding Joy to Both of you!

Love is a journey.

Love is looking into each other's eyes every morning as if it were the first time,

And closing each day with a kiss that says "I can't wait until tomorrow"

Love is growing old together and falling in love over and over again,

All along this journey you share.

Warmest wishes and special thoughts as you begin your life together!

Love,

Nancy and Buck"

There was a note at the bottom of the card in Nancy's immaculate script… "Buck and I really wish we could make it to your wedding. But little Neddie is teething and I wouldn't want his screaming to disrupt your nuptials. Give Phil a hug from me, and call me after you get back from your honeymoon. I'm thinking about getting back in the game and I'd love to work with you and Joe again! Lots of Love, Nan"

Frank smiled, thinking sentimentally back to those old days when he and Joe paired up with Nancy and her gal pals to solve cases that landed them near Chicago, or Nancy near New York. And good ole Ned… To think the big lug had once been jealous of Nancy working with Frank, that was until Bess had let Frank's little "secret" slip. After that Ned had no qualms whatsoever with Frank, Joe and Nancy working on cases together.

"Well, it's a lovely wine rack." Laura interjected as she ran a cleaning cloth over it to get more of the black finger-print powder off of it. "Don't forget to jot this down and her new address in the notebook in the kitchen so you can send her a Thank You note when you get back from Mexico."

"I know, you lucky dog!" Joe clapped his brother on the shoulder, glad to have the topic change from the wine rack debacle to something more pleasant. "Mexico sounds a lot more exciting than the cruise Van and I took up to Nova Scotia. Although, we weren't really interested in leaving our cabin anyway." Joe winked and enjoyed seeing the color rise in his brother's cheeks.

"Joe…" Laura admonished, but she did smile at her older son. "I know it's hearsay, but drink plenty of bottled water while you're down there. You're going to want to stay well hydrated. The heat and humidity down there can really contribute to getting dehydrated and wearing yourself down. Nut much of a honeymoon if you get sick, or G-d forbid, the runs."

"Mom!" Frank was astonished and embarrassed by this mother speaking so frankly about that kind of thing. Laura laughed and handed her son the now clean wine rack.

ooOoo

True to his word, Moshe Cohen had a few cardboard boxes already pulled out in the driveway when Phil pulled up to his parents' home.

"What are you doing?" Phil asked as he pulled his suitcase and messenger bag out of his car.

"Take a look through some of these and see if there's anything you want to keep. Everything else is going to either Goodwill or the D.A.V."

Phil sighed and set his messenger bag and suitcase down. The first dusty box he opened contained his old tennis and swimming trophies.

"Hey now, don't want to get rid of these, I worked hard to be awarded these." Phil pulled a swimming trophy out and blew at the coating of dust that had collected on it.

"Yeah, well your mom didn't want Ruben playing with them when he spends the night, so she packed them up in here." Moshe said. "We figured you might want to show them to your own kids one day."

Phil opened another box and found old Bayport High and University of Bayport memorabilia, like year books, his letterman's jacket… He cracked open one of the burgundy leather-bound annuals. It was his freshman year, and the first signature he came across was Biff's, right where the front cover and the fist page met.

"Yo Phil! I'm the first person to sign your crack! - Biff Hooper"

"Hope you have a great summer. See you at the pool!" - Callie Shaw"

There were scads of other entries in various colors of ink. Ah! Here was the one…

"Phil! We made it through freshman year intact, can you believe it? Good luck at swim camp, I'll call you when we get back from Uncle Wade's. Have a great summer! - Frank H."

Phil sat there for a spell, flipping through the yearbooks until he reached the one from Senior year. Oh yeah, the year he "came out". There were drastically fewer signatures, most of them from girls who still saw him as a friend. There were a few that were blacked out with a Sharpie, those were comments from assholes who didn't have anything non-homophobic to write.

The ones from his true friends, the ones who had stuck by him through the years, were there. Chet, Tony, Jerry, Biff, Joe and Frank. But he could see even the tone of their comments had changed.

"I've got your back, man!"

"Keep your head up, Phil…"

And yes, even the tone of Frank's comments had changed, but it seemed like he had put more thought into it.

"Good bye Bayport High! Hello future! Next to me (ha ha) you're the smartest and most talented guy I know. You're a great friend and I know you'll go far. Best buds always - Frank"

Phil could feel his eyes begin to sting with tears. He felt a presence over his shoulder, his father was standing there smiling.

"The first time my Bubbe Phyllis held you after you were born, she smiled and shook her head at the same time. She said "I can look into his eyes and see his life will be different. He'll break your heart, but he'll mend it right back. He'll live a long, happy life, just not the way you think he should. But you'll grow to be very proud of him." Moshe sighed and sat beside Phil in a old lawn chair.

"Are you trying to tell me my coming out broke your heart?" Phil asked, his throat tightening. Moshe looked away for a moment, as if the cluttered garage was very interesting. Then he cleared his throat and looked back at his youngest son.

"I'd be lying if I said no. But my Bubbe was wrong about one thing. I didn't have to grow to be very proud of you. I've always been proud of you Phillip. And when your mother and I walk you down the aisle Saturday night, I want you to know I'm not doing it for show, or placating your mother. Frankie's a fine young man. And the love and faithfulness you've shown each other during your good times and bad… I know in my heart he is your true bashert. And that's all any father could want for their child. To see them happy." Phil could see unshed tears welling up in Moshe Cohen's eyes.

"Oh, Abba!" Phil moved over to where his father was sitting and the father and son embraced. The younger Cohen sobbed as Moshe cried silently.

"Thank you Abba!" Phil rasped as his tears dampened his father's shoulder. Moshe hugged his son tighter. Phil hadn't called him "Abba" since they left New Jersey.

"I love you son." Moshe said.

"I love you too Abba." Phillip whispered.

"Moshe! Phillip! When you're done bonding get this mess cleaned up and head to Wu Fong's. I called in for take out, should be ready in about thirty minutes." Pearl hollered from the storm door that led to the garage.

"Yes, Mamen!" Phil called back.

"Mamen? Moshe, what in the world have you said to him?" But Pearl didn't wait for an answer. She let the back door slam shut itself shut as she headed back into the kitchen to set the table for the three of them.

"Mamen…" She chuckled to herself. Probably was influenced by Sammy. Her oldest son had started calling her "Mom" in what, third grade? She was surprised it took her baby so long to follow in his brother's footsteps. But shoot, Sammy was in college when Phillip first called her "Mom". No, it was more like "Moooommm!" She'd done something; kissed his cheek in public, or mussed his wet, wavy hair after winning a swim meet."

"Stop over-thinking it Pearl." she said to herself. "You've got your baby back for a few days, and then he'll be a married man. You're not losing a son, you're gaining… a son." She giggled again in spite of herself.

OoOoo

-So how was work?

~We got a new client. The big guys put me on top of it, but they said it could wait until we got back from Mexico.

~You?

-Sat in on Halstead's housekeeper's interview. Well, behind the glass. Then looked up some files in Circuit Court. Dad's got me back on light duty suddenly.

~He doesn't want you to get in the middle of anything before the wedding.

-True. But I think I'd rather be on a stakeout right now than downstairs. The folks are entertaining some of the family who've come in for the wedding. Melissa's here with her kids and it's like Romper Room downstairs!

~What? You can't handle a couple of kids?

-A couple? Yes. Ours? Yes. Five under the age of three and two of them are just a few months older than Ashleigh? No. Hell no! I begged off with a headache and came into my so-called "sanctuary".

~Oh yes! The Martha Stewart on crack room.

-It's hard to believe this was ever Joe's room. At least they got a new bed. Jeez, if you knew how many time Joe changed his own sheets from the time he was sixteen until he moved out so Mom wouldn't know he'd been jerking off…

~G-d, I hope they burned that mattress! Betcha Gertie knew though.

-Oh, of course she did. She's the one who showed him how to operate the damn washing machine and how much bleach to use. Mom thought he was being more responsible and then got on my ass that I should start washing my own sheets. I got the little shit back. Told him I was on to him, so he got towels too whenever he had to do his sheets.

~Good on ya!

There was a knock at Frank's bedroom door.

-Uh, I've got company.

~I'll chat with you tomorrow. Love you, Baby.

-Love you too, Hon.

Frank powered down his tablet and set it aside.

"Come in?"

The door opened and Fenton poked his head in.

"How's your headache?" Frank scoffed at the question.

"Better." His father chuckled.

"Got a minute?"

"Sure, c'mon in." Fenton closed the door and came over to sit on the edge of the bed near Frank's knee.

"A couple of days before Joe got married, I gave him a few pointers on marriage and how to treat your wife. I don't see how having the same talk with you should be any different. Just the mechanics of it are a little different, I guess." Frank chuckled heartily as his father fumbled over his words. Even the seasoned detective laughed at his own blundering.

"My point is, Frank, just remember to respect each other, to be open and honest with each other. And even if you can't show him because you're out of town, on a case, what have you… Let him know you love him. There were many times when I couldn't contact your mother when I was out, up to my eyeballs in a case. Be sure if something like that ever happens that you make it up to Phillip as soon as you're in the clear.

The path you and Joe have chosen to follow, to be detectives like your old man, makes me both proud and sad. Sad, because I know your spouses will have to go through what I've had to put Laura through all these years. But both of you were fortunate enough to be loved by people who knew what they're getting into. For that I'm thankful."

"Thanks Dad." Frank said quietly. He looked down at his hands. "And thanks for being so understanding about my, I dunno… at least about Phil. Seemed like you never liked the other guys I dated in college. I sorta felt like you didn't approve of me, or me dating guys…"

"It wasn't you I didn't approve of. None of them were good enough for my boy." Fenton smiled and rested a reassuring hand on Frank's shoulder. Frank's pale cheeks colored as well as the tip of his nose. Just like his mother does before she cries.

"Now I didn't come up here to get you worked up. I have something for you." Fenton reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, tattered box and handed it to Frank. Inside, being held onto by the worn green velvet lining inside, were two gold, art-deco cufflinks.

"They belonged to my great grandfather, then my grandfather, and my father passed them on to me to wear the day of my wedding. Now they're yours. It's sort of a Hardy family tradition to pass them down from father to the oldest son. And after Saturday you'll hold on to them until your son gets married."

"But Dad, you knew I was gay when Joe got married last year. There's a greater chance of him having a son to pass them down to than me…" Frank didn't want to bother his father with the possible future he and his mother had seen where Frank and Phil indeed have a son, just not one who was biologically theirs.

"You and Phil have dropped enough hints about your intention to adopt someday. And even though he won't be your flesh and blood son, he'll be a Hardy just the same." Fenton curled his hand around Frank's, and gently pushed their joined hands to Frank's chest.

"Thanks Dad. I really mean it. Thank you for everything." Fenton scooted forward to meet his son in a strong bear hug.

OoOoo

In a dingy single-wide trailer suspended six feet above the ground by a rather imprecise decking system, Ramon Hernandez sat nervously at the trailer's kitchen bar. A motley gathering of men entered the mobile home and seated themselves in the small space of a den. A ceiling fan and a window unit air conditioner worked on full blast to keep the dwelling cool. Ramon dreaded to think how hot that trailer must get during the dog days of summer, and this was just May.

"Alright boy, I think everyone's here. Say whatcha gotta say so I can get these S.O.B.'s outta mah house." Ezora Dupuis said as she sidled up to Ramon and lit a cigarette.

Ramon cleared his throat and looked around the room. It seemed like Emile Louvel's old pack was a slice of Louisiana's demographic diversity. A few business types in suits, a couple of Creoles, Cajuns, an African American… there was even a man nestled in a corner who looked to be of Hispanic descent, he even looked a little familiar.

Ramon went on into his speech, speaking of knowing the members of the group would want to seek revenge for Emile and Miguel's deaths and Jacques' incarceration. That he knew where to locate the man responsible. But vengeance wasn't the end of this, Frank Hardy's death wouldn't solve their problems or bring Emile and Miguel back, or get Jacques out of prison any sooner. However, by finishing what Emile started, they could all benefit from a slice of that pie, and even help support Ezora and give Ramon's mother the chance to give Miguel a decent headstone in the prison cemetery.

One man in business suit looked past Ramon to Ezora.

"Ezora? Are you willing to perform the spell to contact Delebon?"

"We gotta have more of a plan before we contact that Elf. They're too skiddish to come to the same pick up twice." said the slim African American. Others spoke up with their own questions and doubts about getting involved with the Dark Elves again. It was obvious they both feared and respected the Dark Elves, and that Emile's last botched transaction was the first sale of a captured Light Elf (or half-Elf) that went wrong.

"What if they bring down their price for a halfie? Simply because they don't trust us or because he won't be dealing with Emile himself?"

"We just have to earn his trust again." The Hispanic man stood up and stepped out of the shadows. "I couldn't give two shits for avenging that back-stabbing Emile. But the kid is right, Miguel deserved better, and Ezora and her kids need something to live on. That Hardy boy's askin' price will probably be lower, but it's a way to get back in their good graces. We can all get a cut of whatever's left over."

"But we still need to think this through a little better." the black man Ramon would come to know as Leon Pinchback, came across as very cautious and paranoid. "We gotta figure out a way to make this whole thing go down during the daylight. That was half Emile's problem from what I heard. He was trying to satisfy the Dark Elves by doing it at night, but he hadn't counted on that boy having a posse of vampires on his side. So which is worse, inconveniencing the Elves or ensuring that vampires won't be around when the shit goes down?"

"The way Jacques talks, those Elves are hella scared of vampires." Ezora spoke up. "We might want to play that card when we negotiate with them."

One of the Weres who was wearing a business suit pulled out his checkbook.

"Ezora, how much do you need to get the supplies for the spell?"

"Two hundred." She over-shot, but the kids needed new shoes. The man didn't raise an eyebrow. He filled out the check and handed it to Ezora. "I need to get home, Wanda's got dinner waiting." He looked at Ramon.

"Contact us when you come up with a place and time."

One by one they left, only the Hispanic man lingering behind. When Ezora realized he wasn't ready to leave yet she sighed in exasperation.

"Ya'll wanna beer? I gotta go to Mama's and pick up the kids." Ramon nodded and so did the other man. She handed them their beers and gave the older man a pointed look.

"When I get back I want ya'll gone and my house in one piece or I'll hex your dick off!" She warned. He nodded and watched as Ezora picked up her keys, purse and let the flimsy storm door slam behind her.

"So kid, how's your mom?" The older man asked as he popped the cap off of his beer bottle. Ramon narrowed his eyes at the other man. "You look a lot like her, ya know? Got her nose and eyes."

"How the hell do you know my mom?" The older man chuckled and set his beer on the kitchen's bar. "She never talks about your old man?"

"No. He died when I was five. Miguel took off and when I was ten and I was raised by my mom and my aunts. They never talked about my father. So again, how do you know my mom?"

"Know her? Hell, after nearly thirty years I'm still married to her!"

Ramon felt his world fall out from under him. At the same time, he wanted to either puke or punch the man before him square in the face.

"What's the matter hijo? You don't recognize your own Papi?"

ooOoo

Author's Notes:

*I'll admit, I'm only familiar with the world of Nancy Drew from where she is mentioned in the Hardy's stories. So I did a little Wikipedia searching and found out that Buck Rodman was one of Ned Nickerson's best friends from earlier in her series. So I pulled a JKR and had Nancy marry Ned's bestie (like she had George marry Angelina in her interview post-Deathly Hallows. Neat and tidy my ass, JKR!). But I digress.

Hey, how do you like the look of my new chapter breaks? The dots (periods and dashes) kept getting eaten up by some word processor goblin whenever I did the cut and paste thing to add a new chapter.

So, no wedding this chapter, the hubs had the laptop when he was out of town and all the info I had collected for their wedding details were on it. (Who, me back-up?) So while he was gone I hand-wrote this chapter in a little notebook, thought this would be a good wind up before the actual wedding chapter… which will be a long chapter, and if it's too long I may have to split it in two parts. But at least now you know where Ramon had run off to and that even he has Daddy issues.

*Sigh* So it may be a while (over a week) before chapter 12 is ready because I want their wedding to be a very special thing for you to read.

Thanks always to my faithful reviewer, I look forward to your take on my work. And a warm hello to a few new followers. Ya'll don't be shy about leaving reviews now, I don't bite. I'm just a sweet southern girl who serves up sweet tea and lemon bars, I just happen to like to write slashy smut. Especially if it involves Frank Hardy. ;D