Title: All the Broken Pieces

Rating: T/PG-13 (for certain themes)

Word Count: 1,934

Disclaimer: If I wrote it, it wouldn't be published because it would be locked in endless revision.

Summary: Frank struggles after a particularly devastating case, one that forever altered his life and that of Callie Shaw. Joe has been at his wit's end trying to help his brother, but even when Frank seems to be improving, he can't help but fear that Frank hasn't gotten better at all. Trying to ease back into working again, the brothers take on what is supposed to be a routine investigation. Their case quickly proves to be much more than it seems, leading them to cross paths again with Nancy Drew.

Nancy's had her hands full with a case that's very personal to Ned. When it ends badly, they take a trip to help both of them recover from its aftermath. Trouble soon finds them, and when Nancy witnesses a murder, it almost becomes a double homicide. The police want Nancy in protective custody, but she has her own ideas about this case, and since the police aren't willing to let her follow up on them, she needs help from Frank and Joe.

Pairings: Past Frank/Callie, Ned/Nancy for plot, and hints of Frank/Nancy (just hints.)

Author's Note: So recently I came across Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys fanfiction again, and it rekindled my interest in the supermysteries. After rereading the ones I owned and diving into more fanfic, I rummaged through my notebooks until I found an idea and partial start I'd had for a fic.

I started rewriting it, and the idea has diverted from what it was when I first envisioned it. I hope it's still a good one, though I don't know, as I am a very poor judge of my own writing. Still, it's the first fanfic I've done in a while and the first one I've attempted to post in this fandom.

Also, I should say I don't hate Callie, and she didn't deserve what happened to her, but it was essential to the plot. As another disclaimer... while I liked the idea of Ned/Nancy in the yellow books and think they were adorable in the last movie version of Nancy Drew, the supermysteries and a few other things made me love the idea of Frank/Nancy. So... while there is Ned/Nancy in this, it's part of the plot, but it's not where things would end in my ideal world. Just a fair warning, though I don't know that there will be any overt Frank/Nancy in this, either. I don't see them as having a quick path to romance even if Ned and Callie weren't there, though I'd be lying if I said the original version of this wasn't intended for just that purpose: bringing Frank and Nancy together.

I've changed and matured since I created the idea, and I hope the idea has, too, so this should be more of a gen case fic with things to squint at, if anything.

And, I admit, with the horrors I pictured in my head, I kind of scared myself, even though I have no intention of putting all of them on paper and posting them. I glossed over things and went straight to the aftermath and will likely only visit the subject in short flashbacks.

Worries and Guilt

"It's not your fault, you know."

Frank ignored the words. He'd heard them over and over, even tried to say them to himself, but he couldn't believe them. They were hardest to take from Joe, of all people, as he didn't accept them himself, even after all the time that had passed since the bombing. He was no more capable of forgiving himself for that than Frank was this, so why should he listen to Joe now?

He drew in a breath and let it out again. He didn't try and argue the words—he had no interest in fighting with his brother. Not now. He didn't want to fight with anyone.

"You... are going to come out of your room sometime, right?"

Frank thought of all the logical reasons why he should, all the arguments he would make if the situation were reversed. He didn't have to think too hard—he'd already made most of them before, pleading with friends, family, even suspects to see why going on was important, why it still mattered to move forward and keep working.

That changed nothing. He hadn't moved in hours, hadn't left the house in almost a month, and he didn't remember the last time he'd eaten.

"She's not dead, Frank," Joe reminded him, reaching over to touch his arm.

"She might be better off if she were," Frank said, and when Joe couldn't find a way to answer that, he left the room without another word.

"I have to do something," Joe said, wishing he was having this conversation in person, not sneaking around to make it out of everyone else's hearing. Honestly, he'd be glad if Frank interrupted, if he overheard, if something could get to his brother in his current state. It wasn't like Frank to be like this, shutting down, letting nothing but the emotions rule him, the guilt, but he was lost in it, more so than Joe had ever been. "He's almost completely shut down. It's not like him. He's always the one who forces himself to think through situations, to keep moving—he doesn't stop."

"And you think this time he has?"

"I know he has," Joe muttered, shaking his head as he wanted to shake some sense into someone. Maybe more than one. "He won't leave his bed. He doesn't do anything, just sits there. He's aware enough to respond things, and he does, but he's not... he's not working. He's not researching. He doesn't do anything."

"Joe—"

"The guilt is killing him. It's like he just gave up on everything. He made me go on after Iola, but he's not, and she's not even dead."

"That may be part of the problem. Callie still has to live with what they did to her, and it will never go away. He has to live with being the cause of all that pain."

"Frank didn't do that to her," Joe snapped, losing his temper. He smacked a hand into the siding on the house, frustrated. He didn't know why that was so hard for any of them to understand. "He didn't know that they were going to take her—he fought hard to get her back—"

"Do you think Iola's death was your fault?"

Joe winced. "I—That's different. She's dead, and she died in a bomb meant for me."

"Callie was taken, held hostage, tortured, and as good as brainwashed all as a part of revenge against Frank. What they put her through was horrific, and your brother blames himself for every minute of it, every second and every change this forced on her. Worse, he was a part of those changes."

Joe winced. "He didn't know."

"No one knew," the voice on the other end gentled, "but that doesn't make it any less true. They set him up to trigger her conditioned responses. She did things she can't undo, and she did them seemingly on Frank's encouragement. She even did some of them to him. She can't face him. He can't face her."

Joe leaned back against the house. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his head. The ache was nothing new. "None of this seems real. It shouldn't be. Can't be."

"I could start a debate with you over the reality of brainwashing and how it has been disputed by experts over the years, but that won't help. The unarguable fact remains that Callie was subjected to extreme mental trauma, and that damaged her in ways that... that will always linger. She was altered. The person you knew..."

"She's still there," Joe said. "Enough to fool Frank, at least. Or she was."

"And she probably is. What she did was a result of what she endured. She's strong to have survived it at all, and that is what everyone has to be grateful for—though expecting her to be as she was before or Frank to be okay with what happened—that's a bit much."

"I know," Joe said. He sighed. "I have to do something, though. This isn't like Frank."

"Are you kidding, Joe? You know your brother. You know how he feels about the people he loves, about what he would do for them, and how he feels when he can't. There is no quick fix to what happened."

"Frank isn't trying to fix it. He's shutting himself off and shutting down."

"In some ways, that may seem the more logical response. If Frank doesn't do any detective work, if he's not close to anyone, if he stays away... Then he won't get anyone else hurt, won't be the cause of the pain, not like he was with Callie."

"Callie doesn't blame him."

"Yes, but she's still terrified of him, isn't she?"

Joe grimaced. He wanted to deny it, but it was true—being around Frank set off the worst of Callie's PTSD and her fears that he might trigger her into some other thing she didn't want to do—or that she'd try and kill him again.

"It's still not his fault."

"I know."

"What do we do? How do we get Frank to see he can't go on like this?"

"It's Frank. He already knows."

"You showered."

"Don't sound like it's the end of the world or the second coming, Joe," Frank said, not looking at his brother as he opened the fridge. He wasn't hungry, still had no appetite, but he did not know that he could continue as he had been. He hadn't been the same since that horrible night when Callie—

He winced, forcing the memories from his mind. He didn't want to think about that night, about how far things had gone, how he could have killed her in his efforts to stop her. He almost had. He willed himself not to shudder, knowing Joe would see it.

"It's just... not like you. Not these days."

Frank shrugged. "It was time."

"It was time?" Joe repeated dubiously. He stared at Frank in shock, almost letting his mouth hang open after the words.

"Would you rather it wasn't?" Frank countered, taking out the supplies he would need for a sandwich. Nothing too complicated, nothing that would upset his stomach after so long between meals. He didn't know how else to go forward. A part of him still didn't want to, but his war with the logical reasons had been lost.

"No," Joe admitted as he came closer. "Look, Frank, I know I've been pushing a lot, but I don't know that you can just... flip a switch and be back to normal."

"I never said I was." Frank put the bread on top of his sandwich and looked at it, telling himself he was able to eat it. "You tried a case a few days ago. Is it still... open?"

Joe shook his head. "No way. You don't go from staring at the walls like a vegetable to fully functioning in less than an hour."

"I'm not," Frank said. "I don't know that I can eat this sandwich I just made, it took me all day to convince myself to get in the shower and even after I was in it, I almost didn't clean anything... Just do us both a favor and quit trying to tell me I shouldn't be ready for this. Not only do I already know, but I don't need another reason to go back to where I was. It's already too tempting to do just that."

"I... Okay."

"Frank pulling himself out of his room isn't a bad thing, Joe."

Joe sighed, knowing the phone was good enough to carry that across the line. "It's not like I don't know that. I do. I just... He's not ready. I know he's not. No one does that kind of turnaround, not really. He can't be too traumatized and guilt-stricken to function one minute and up and asking for a case the next. He showered and ate and says he's not okay, which is true, but he's still..."

"...Trying?"

Joe frowned. "I'm not sure that's the right word for it."

The voice on the other end was almost amused. "You know what word has always described both of you? Tenacious. That's what the Hardy boys are. When Frank sets his mind on something, he doesn't quit. So if he has made the decision that he's coming back from this, then he will do it with the same stubborn determination that you two face everything with."

"Something's wrong. First he breaks down and now he's fine?"

Hesitation carried a sigh across the line in the other direction this time. "When Iola died, you had revenge to chase, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but Frank got his revenge when Callie was rescued. They were all captured or..." Joe trailed off, not wanting to think about that, either. Frank could have killed someone—Joe had been there after Iola died, had wanted the same thing—and the investigation into what happened still hadn't proved that no one had died at Frank's hands, not for sure.

That must have been eating at Frank, too, though he hadn't let anything get to him until all the weird stuff with Callie happened. He'd been so focused on helping her recover, on making everything up to her, and it almost seemed to be working until that night...

Joe shook his head. "There's no one left to get revenge against."

"No one to blame but himself."

That was half the problem. "What if this new determination to get out of bed isn't some kind of—it's not going to be him trying to get himself killed now that he's realized that he can't just slowly waste away, is it?"

"You'll be with him. You can watch out for him. It's what you do."

Joe nodded. He had that much as a consolation, but it wasn't much. "I wish you were here."

Nancy let a tense moment stretch on before she spoke. "I know."