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Discoveries	By : vinsmouse Category: G through L > Hardy Boys Series Views: 2987 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own The Hardy Boys, not making any money, just cheap thrills.

Chapter List
- 1-Discoveries
- 2-Two
- 3-three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-Eight
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 13-Thirteen
- 14-Fourteen
- 15-Fifteen
- 16-Sixteen
- 17-Seventeen
- 18-Eighteen
- 2
- 3
- 4
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hardy Boys, not making any money, just cheap thrills.
Warnings: Angst, Slash, Violence
Rating: FRT
Discoveries
Chapter 3
"I wish I could hold you in my arms all night," Dale whispered.
Joe trembled, though whether from desire or fear, he couldn't have said. "Someday," he promised, knowing that if Dale was proven guilty it would never happen. "You better go or neither of us will make it to work tomorrow."
"Yeah," Dale reluctantly agreed. Leaning down, he kissed Joe one more time, "See you tomorrow gorgeous."
Joe stood in front of his door, watching the older boy walking away and wishing things could be different. Turning around, he let himself into his apartment, swinging the door shut behind him.
Frank stood behind the staircase, staring at the scene in front of him. This must have been what Joe was hiding, but when had his little brother started liking men? Maybe he was just pretending for the sake of the case? Frank felt relief flood through him; that must be it. I need to set him straight, Frank thought to himself, nearly giggling at the unintended pun.
Joe had just toed his shoes off when there was a knock at the door. Smiling, he strode to the door and pulled it open, "Forget some...Frank," he gasped.
"Expecting somebody else?" Frank asked.
"What's up?" Joe asked, ignoring his brother's question as he stepped back allowing him to enter.
Frank stepped into the apartment, waiting for his brother to shut the door. "We need to talk Joe," he announced. Moving across the room, he sat down on the couch. He didn't miss the nervous way Joe licked his lips as he moved to sit in the matching chair.
"Look Frank I know I said I'd call but I didn't realize the time. When I did, it was only a little past ten and Dale insisted on walking me home so I didn't have the chance to call."
"That's not what I want to talk to you about."
"It's not?" Joe asked, clearly confused.
"I was in the hallway Joe," Frank quietly informed his brother. Though he tried to hide it, the older boy could clearly hear the accusation in his voice, he only hoped Joe would miss it.
It took a moment for the implications of Frank's words to sink in, when they did Joe felt the blood drain from his face. "It's none of your business," he snapped defensively.
"None of my business?" Frank yelled. "You're my brother, of course it's my business," he continued, lowering his voice.
"Not when you make it sound like I'm doing something wrong."
Frank dropped his eyes, wishing he could take back the accusing tone he'd used before. "Look Joe I know you want to solve this case for Dad but he wouldn't want you doing this," Frank tried again.
Joe stared at him, going over his brothers words, trying to make sense of them. "You think I'm pretending to be attracted to Dale for the case?" he asked, suddenly understanding.
"Of course and you shouldn't do it Joe," Frank spoke softly, confirming Joe's suspicion.
"I see," Joe mumbled. "Don't worry about it Frank, I can handle myself."
"Joe please, I hate to see you putting yourself in this position..."
"What position?" Joe interrupted the older boy. He could see that Frank had a problem with the idea of him being gay. That was obvious by the explanation he'd come up with for Joe's actions. Apparently it was easier for his older brother to think of him selling himself for the case, than to think he was gay. "If Dale were a woman you wouldn't see anything wrong with me dating him, no matter what the reason."
"You're right Joe, but Dale isn't a woman and you're not gay," Frank countered.
"What if I was?" Joe demanded.
Frank just gaped as his brother, why was he even asking such a question? "I never thought about it," he finally replied.
"Maybe you should." Standing up, Joe walked to the door and pulled it open, "I'm tired Frank."
"Joe?" Why are you mad? Don't you understand I'm just looking out for you? I don't understand what's wrong, please explain it little brother. Though unvoiced, all of these questions and more were contained in that one word as Frank joined his brother by the door.
"Just go Frank, please," Joe begged his older brother.
Frank continued to stare for a moment longer, finally he nodded and left the apartment. Turning back, intending to make one more attempt, he saw he was too late as the door was shut in his face.
Joe leaned against the door, tears spilling from his deep blue eyes. Sliding down the wood, he pulled his knees up to his chest as he tried to make sense of the conversation with his brother. He'd never known Frank to have a problem with homosexuals, apparently he'd been wrong. Or maybe it was just the idea of a queer, inwardly he winced at the word, in his own family that bothered him. What was he going to do now? Frank would probably tell Dad about what he'd seen and then his father would pull him from the case. Leaving his brother without proper back-up and robbing Joe of the chance to discover exactly where his new found desires might lead.
Down the hall, Frank paced the length of his living room, unable to come to a satisfactory decision about his brother. Several times he picked up his cell phone, once even going so far as to punch in his father's number. In the end though, he couldn't do it, calling their dad felt too much like a betrayal of his brother. Frustrated beyond expression, he ran his hand through his dark hair. What was he to do? Should he let Joe continue to pretend an interest in Dale or tell their father? Maybe he should just demand that the younger boy stop trying to get close to their suspect this way. "Oh right," he scoffed at his own idea. "Joe will certainly respond well to that Frank." Unfortunately, discarding that idea didn't really help him. He knew well enough what wouldn't work, the problem was in trying to decide what would work. You could try reasoning with him, a small internal voice suggested. Reason with Joe? he scoffed at first. On second thought, maybe it wasn't as crazy as it sounded. His brother might have a quick temper and a tendency to rush in where angels feared to tread, but if you could keep him calm he would listen to reason. Most of the time, Frank corrected himself. He had to find a way to make Joe see the danger of what he was doing. If Dale found out...a shudder ripped through him as he imagined the possible reactions of the larger man if he found out Joe was only pretending. No closer to a decision, Frank finally gave up and went to bed. Though, he didn't expect to sleep, he soon fell into a fitful slumber, filled with shock and fear fueled nightmares.
Joe finally pushed himself to his feet, stumbling off to his bed around one in the morning. Still reeling from the earlier conversation, he automatically readied himself for bed. Sliding between the sheets, he curled in on himself as he drifted into an uneasy sleep. His sleep, like his brother's, was filled with nightmares involving Dale. Several times Joe found himself jolted from sleep as his family, angered by his involvement with Dale, drove him from his home, turning their backs on him.
Finally, the ringing of the alarm ended his night of torment. Pulling himself from the bed, he mechanically got ready for work. Unlike the day before, there was no older brother to start the day with or to make him breakfast. His heart weighed down by grief, he stood beneath the streaming water of the shower, wondering if this what his life would be like from now on? After showering and dressing, Joe stepped into his small kitchen. Glancing around the room, he could easily see the scene of the day before. What little appetite he had deserted him, leaving him feeling vaguely ill. It was too early for work, but Joe couldn't face another moment in the apartment, being assaulted by memories, both good and bad. Tucking his wallet into his jeans, he grabbed his keys and escaped the suddenly too small space.
Joe paid no attention to where he was going as he walked aimlessly, his only intention to kill some time until it was late enough to go to work. Joe's awareness was returned to his surroundings by a rough voice.
"Hey man, where ya going?"
"Heading to work," Joe replied, moving to step around the red-headed man blocking his path.
"Without offering to buy us breakfast? That's cold man," with a motion of his hand, Red gave the order to attack.
Before he could make a move to defend himself, Joe found his arms pinned behind him by two strong men. Though not as tall as him, the two men were more than strong enough to hold the younger Hardy in place. Unable to use his fists, Joe used the only other weapon available to him. As Red closed in, he curled his hand into a fist; suddenly Joe pulled his knees to his chest and kicked out, catching the other man in the chest.
Red stumbled back, falling to the sidewalk where he lay glaring up at Joe. "That was a dumb move kid," he growled while pushing himself to his feet. "Take him into the alley boys, this just got personal," he ordered. He followed his buddies as they dragged the struggling blond into the dark shadows. Pulling a set of brass knuckles from his back pocket, he slipped them onto his hand, and waited while the other two pinned the boy against the wall, this time making sure he couldn't use his feet against them.
Joe stared defiantly at the twenty something punk. The sight of the brass knuckles filled him with fear, though he wasn't about to let Red or his buddies see it. Bracing himself for what was about to happen, Joe glared into the brown eyes of the grinning man in front of him as he drew his fist back. The first punch caught him in the solar plexus, driving the air from his body. Before he could do more than begin to take a breath he was hit again with an uppercut to the chin. The beating went on for an interminable length of time, the other man showing no signs of tiring. Finally, merciful darkness claimed the youngest Hardy, bringing momentary relief.
Red stepped back, nodding to his buddies. He smiled in satisfaction as the blond dropped to the ground, unconscious, covered in bruises and blood. Reaching down, he rolled the boy over, searching his pockets for any valuables. Grabbing his wallet, he pulled the watch from the boy's wrist and calmly walked away.
Dale arrived at work, a smile on his handsome face as he stepped into the locker room. He was surprised that Joe wasn't here yet, he hoped the younger man hadn't overslept. Putting his lunch away, he sat down at the table to wait. He had planned to talk to Tim about Joe getting in on some of the overtime work. He had quickly decided that the day Joe was late wouldn't be a good day to ask. By the time the other men began to arrive, Dale was starting to get worried. He had almost gone by Joe's apartment earlier, thinking to invite him to breakfast. However, he worried that the blond might see the invitation as pressure, so, afraid of scaring the younger, inexperienced man off, Dale had decided against it. A decision he was now kicking himself for as thoughts of what could have happened to Joe rushed through his mind.
"Morris, you seen Harris this morning?" Tim Jones growled an hour later.
"No I haven't, and it's got me worried," Dale replied.
"Worried? Why's that? He have a problem I should know about?" The boy hadn't seemed the type, but he wouldn't be the first man Tim had seen with a drinking or drug problem.
Dale scratched his head, confused for a moment. "Oh, no I don't think so. I meant cause he's new to the city, what if something happened to him on the way to work?"
"You think he got mugged?"
"He could have, or he might've seen something he wasn't supposed to."
Tim laughed outright at this, "You've been watching too many movies Dale. Still, he didn't seem undependable and muggings do happen. I tell you what, if we don't hear anything from him in half an hour we'll start calling the cops and hospitals. In the meantime, we've got work to do," Tim dismissed the younger man.
"Poor kid," Detective Schmidt shook his head as he watched the paramedics load the young blond into the ambulance. Turning away, he began to take a statement from the woman who had found the boy lying in the alley. Unfortunately she couldn't tell him anything, as usual in this neighborhood, nobody had seen a thing. Well, maybe when he woke up the kid would be able to tell them something. If not, it would be one more assault that would never be solved.
Dale looked around the docks for Tim, finally spotting him talking to a tall man in a brown suit. Hurrying over to the two men, he cleared his throat, getting their attention.
"What is it Dale?"
"It's been half an hour, can I go to the break room and make some calls?"
"Yeah, okay," Tim unhesitatingly gave his permission. "Dale," he called after him, "let me know what you find out."
"Will do," Dale quickly agreed. Running off, he headed straight for the break room, praying that he would find something about Joe's fate. The first call he made was to the local precinct house, but they had no reports involving a Joe Harris or anybody matching his description. Moving further afield, he called other police stations, along with hospitals, but nobody had seen Joe.
"Hey Schmidt, I figured out who our John Doe is," Sam Greene called to his partner.
Schmidt gave his partner a disinterested glance before returning to his report, "Yeah?"
"Yeah, Joe Hardy."
"Fenton Hardy's kid?" Schmidt asked, suddenly interested.
"Exactly," Greene confirmed. "I thought he looked familiar, even through all the bruises, so when I ran his prints I didn't just look at the criminal database. I searched the prints on file with those missing kid groups, you know the ones that go to schools and set up those cards for parents to keep."
"Yeah I know the ones, and the prints matched Joe Hardy?"
"They sure did, I already called his dad, he's on his way to the hospital."
Schmidt stood up, his report forgotten, "Let's be there when he arrives, I'd like to know what his kid was doing in that neighborhood."
The cell phone in Frank's pocket beeped, startling him as he was reaching for his cup of coffee. Glancing at the screen, he felt his blood run cold at the text message displayed on the screen. 'Joe hurt, meet at city hospital asap.' Hurrying to the manager's office, he made up a story, for the benefit of anybody who might be eavesdropping. Turning away, he quickly left the room, nearly colliding with Doug Powers.
"Where's the fire Simmons?"
"My old man's in the hospital, they think he might've had a heart attack," he explained, giving the same excuse he'd given the office manager.
"Thought you hated him?" Powers snipped.
"Yeah, well that doesn't mean I want him dead. Besides, if I show up and he survives maybe it'll get me back in his good graces," he winked.
"Good point, well you better get going if you're going to get yourself back in the will," Powers grinned as he stepped aside.
Forcing himself to slow down, Frank walked down the hospital corridor to Joe's room. Pushing open the door, he stepped inside, gasping at the sight which greeted him. Walking over to the bed, he gently brushed back the hair from Joe's bruised face. "Oh god, did Morris do this to him?" he asked his dad.
"Morris? Why would you ask that Frank?"
"Did he do it?" Frank ground out the question between clenched teeth.
"The police think it was just a random mugging," Fenton replied. Frowning, he repeated his earlier question, wondering what Frank knew that he didn't.
Frank debated his options, he could tell his father the truth, betraying his brother's trust and further damaging their relationship. Quickly discarding that idea, he went with his second option, "That's who he's supposed to get close to, I thought maybe he had figured out Joe was undercover."
"Not as far as we know, hopefully Joe can tell us more when he wakes up," Fenton responded. On the surface he accepted Frank's explanation, but his instincts were telling him that his oldest was holding something back.
"What did the doctor say?"
"He said his injuries are mostly just minor cuts and bruises, though plenty of those. The two most serious injuries are three cracked ribs and head trauma."
"Head trauma?" Frank asked, his face paling.
"They won't know how much damage there is, if any, until he wakes up," Fenton explained.
Four hours after Frank arrived at the hospital, a low moan signaled Joe's return to consciousness. Blinking his eyes, he opened them, slamming them shut almost instantly. "Turn it off," he whimpered, the light sending steel knives through his head.
Frank jumped up and quickly dimmed the light, "Is that better Joe?"
Cautiously, blue eyes slowly opened. Joe breathed a small sigh of relief, as he turned his attention to the man who had spoken to him. "Do I know you?"
TBC
I know; I'm evil. :) Hope y'all liked it, please feed the muse with reviews.
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Discoveries