A/N: First off I want to say that I'm sorry for starting another story when I have so many unfinished, but I do have a goal of finishing some of them before the summer is over, so please be patient. I really appreciate those that continue to review, because, really, I understand how annoying it is when someone doesn't update frequently enough for a story that you're interested in reading.

Okay, now some notes about this story. This Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys Crossover is going to deal with some current day controversial and political topics. Now, I'm not overally political so I'm not going to go into great detail, but some references will be made that have affected many of our own lives. Here are some things I want you to keep in mind before you review.

1.) I DO support our troops. It's possible, I believe, to support the men and women who are fighting without supporting the President and his actions in initiating this war.

2.) I am NOT in ANYWAY trying to belittle, ANY events, such as 9/11 that the US has suffered.

3.) I am NOT trying to encourage ANYONE to change their beliefs or political views of President Bush. This is my own story and you're welcome to read it if you want to.

4.) I encourage ANYONE to point out any facts or inconsistencies that you may deem incorrect.

5.) I also am NOT a doctor. However, I am using the names and diagnosis of real diseases and drugs. I apologize if I use them incorrectly.

6.) PLEASE do NOT write reviews of how much you may think I am wrong or how horrible the story may be. I do not respect those kind of reviews. However, constructive criticism with a logical and thoughtful basis is appreciated.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters derived from either the Nancy Drew, the Hardy Boys, or Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys Super-mysteries, however I do own the characters, as written here, that are not apart of any of the above mentioned books.

With all that said, I hope you all enjoy. I know it may seem like a lot for me to write, and probably has undoubtedly gotten you curious about why I've said them, but I said it in the hopes of keeping the fun atmosphere of writing fanfiction. So without further ado, on with the story.

Secretary of War, Dean Ridder, stopped in aggravation on CNN news after flipping through all fifty basic cable channels for the second time. After dropping the television remote he reached for the white bed controller and played with the gray buttons till he found a comfortable position for his bed. After straightening his sterile white sheets, he took a quick glance at his heart monitor before settling deeper into the mattress to relax.

"In other news, yet another one of the President's cabinet is in the hospital this week. Dean Ridder, serving as Secretary of War, entered the hospital yesterday for chest pains." Ridder laughed at the old picture they showed of him. His gray hair had a darker hue to it, and the area of baldness forming at the edge of his forehead had covered less area than it did now. More wrinkles decorated the area around his eyes and lips now; part of the stress of the job. The only part of him that remained the same was the sharp brownness of his eyes. People in the office always claimed that his eyes never missed a thing, giving him the nickname "Hawk Eye" amongst his friends.

"Jennifer Fleming held a press conference earlier this morning declaring that the source of the Secretary's pain is inconclusive but that he is doing well and will expect to return to office within the next few days. Of course, there's a slight uneasiness after the death of the Secretary of Interior, Michael Bernard, just last week. The Secretary had been diagnosed with Type II Diabetes three years ago, and entered the hospital after his blood sugar became abnormally high. Doctors at Georgetown University Hospital immediately diagnosed him with HHNS and began treatment. Unfortunately, none of the Secretary's past doctors had recorded his allergy to morphine, and when morphine was administered to help with the Secretary's pain, he went into anaphylactic shock and died."

Ridder's bowed his head slightly at the memory of his colleague. Bernard and him had always gotten along and had many friends within the cabinet. In fact, it was Bernard's incredible golf game that allowed him to really hit it off with the President, and Bernard had always been as good as he was competitive. The golf games between the two men seemed to be one of the few moments of normalcy when the two could forget for a few hours about running the country. In fact, as far as Ridder could remember, the President had never beaten Bernard, but the joy of each other's company kept them playing anyway.

"In other news,' the newswoman continued. "Another bombing in Iraq lost the lives of two American Marines." Ridder turned away from the news after hearing voices at the door. The next moment, a nurse walked in with a syringe in hand. Before the door closed, the Secretary caught a glimpse of two members of the Secret Service outside his door.

"Good morning, Secretary. How are you feeling this morning?" She asked him with a smile. Ridder smiled back her, taking in her long brown hair, blue eyes, and never ending legs with pleasure.

"Pretty good. Even better, if you're here to give me a sponge bath," the Secretary kidded.

The nurse seemed to be thinking it over, and then said, "I think I'll let Henry take care of you this evening."

"Ouch, harsh," the Secretary said with a slight laugh. "So what drugs are we administering today?" Ridder asked eyeing the syringe and thanking God it wasn't going into his arm and that it could feed into his IV. He had a thing with needles, though he never admitted it to anyone.

"Just some antihypertensives to help lower your blood pressure. You really should exercise more Secretary," the nurse said as she cleared the syringe of air bubbles and picked up the IV line. He watched as she dispensed all the contents before lying back down.

"You sound like my wife," the Secretary laughed.

The nurse smiled. "Well, she's right. I don't want to be seeing you in here for a heart attack."

She picked up his left wrist and placed two fingers there as she watched the second hand on her watch. Ten seconds later, she looked at the heart monitor with a frown. His heart rate was steadily increasing. She turned back to the Secretary and saw beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He'd ripped his left arm away from her grip and held it with an expression of pain.

"What's—what's happen—happening?" he asked, struggling for breath. By now the heart monitor had started beeping loudly.

"You're having a heart attack," the nurse said, looking at him fearfully. She rushed over to the door and yanked it open. She turned to the secret service men with frantic eyes. "Get a doctor now; he's having a heart attack!" She didn't even bother to see if they listened. She ran back over to the Secretary who was convulsing viciously on the table while gripping his chest over his heart. For once she didn't know what to do. She'd just given him drugs that would help slow his heart down and instead they'd initiated a heart attack. How was that possible?

"Rhonda, what happened?" The nurse, Rhonda, looked up at Dr. Melinda Herman with scared eyes.

"I came in here to give the Secretary prazosin, but as soon as I did, his heart rate began to increase."

"Get me 10cc's of Clonidine," Dr. Herman yelled. Rhonda ran over to the cabinet and looked through the labels. Rhonda found a small glass label with the drug's name on the front and quickly filled a syringe. She quickly proceeded to do the same procedure she did when she injected him with the antihypertensives. Both of them watched his heart monitor anxiously for some change, but a few seconds after the administration of clonidine the line on the monitor went flat.

"Get the cart!" Dr. Herman yelled as she reached into a drawer by the bedside. She removed a long plastic tube and quickly lowered the bed so that the Secretary was laying flat on his back. She tilted his head back slightly and peered down his throat, and taking the time to make sure that she cleared the vocal chords. Behind her, she heard Rhonda enter the room along with the grinding sound of wheels from the cart.

"Bag him," Dr. Herman ordered the moment the tube was in. Rhonda searched frantically for her a bag in the cabinets before finally pulling out a light blue plastic bag that was inflated to resemble a balloon. She attached the plastic tube at the end of the bag to the tube in the Secretary's throat and began to squeeze it every three seconds. Meanwhile, Dr. Herman reached over and charged up the crash cart.

"Clear!" Rhonda let go of the bag and Dr. Herman brought the paddles down on either side of the Secretary's chest. The shock caused his body to jump off the stretcher slightly. Dr. Herman observed a small spike in heart rate from the electric current before the line continued to be a straight line. As Dr. Herman charged up the machine again, Rhonda resumed her count.

"Clear!" Dr. Herman shouted. Once again, Rhonda let go, and the Secretary's body gave an unnatural jerk before settling in rhythm with the straight line. Four shocks and five minutes later, there was no change.

"Call it," Dr. Herman said stepping away from the Secretary's body and dropping the paddles on the cart.

"But, Doctor—" Rhonda protested.

"It's over. There's nothing more we can do." Rhonda finished her count and then let go of the bag. She slowly brought her hands down from the bag and to her sides, but she didn't look up from his body.

"9:53 a.m.," Dr. Herman said coldly when Rhonda remained silent. "Do you want to tell me what the hell you were doing administering the Secretary's meds? Michelle was supposed to be on duty."

Rhonda didn't take her eyes off the Secretary's face as she spoke. "Michelle had to take a call and asked me to do it. She gave me the syringe and everything."

Almost on cue, Michelle appeared at the door. She looked at Dr. Herman, Rhonda, and finally stopped at her motionless patient as she listened to the constant beep from the heart monitor. "What happened?" Michelle asked her face white.

"Why did you ask Rhonda to administer medication to your patient?" Dr. Herman demanded.

"The White House was on the phone, asking about his condition, and my shift in the ER starts at 10 a.m. I didn't think I'd have time to do it myself so I asked Rhonda if she could give the Secretary his prazosin after she got done with Mr. Rodriguez," Michelle said timidly.

"Did you administer anything to Mr. Rodriguez?" Dr. Herman asked, turning to Rhonda. At the mention of Mr. Rodriguez, her face went white, but she remained silent. She didn't dare look up. She couldn't believe it. She couldn't believe what she'd done.

"Rhonda, did you give anything to Mr. Rodriguez?" Dr. Herman asked again impatiently.

"Yes," she said quietly. She very slowly brought her eyes up from the Secretary's unchanging face and met those of Dr. Herman. "Mr. Rodriguez was in for low blood pressure. I-I was supposed to give him proamatine and I was supposed to give the Secretary prazosin—I must have switched them." The room was silent. Dr. Herman closed her eyes and raised a hand to the bridge of her nose. She rubbed the spot tiredly.

"Michelle, go check on Mr. Rodriguez," Dr. Herman ordered, her eyes still closed. Michelle nodded and gave Rhonda a sympathetic glance before leaving the room. She knew she was out of the woods, but she knew she couldn't say the same for Rhonda.

As soon as Michelle left the room, she headed to the pharmacy. She removed her key card from her pocket, swiped it, and typed in the four-digit code. As soon as the LCD screen turned green, she opened the door and stepped in. After making sure that no one else was in the room, she removed a small bottle from her pocket and headed to the brightly lit fridge. It had at least ten shelves, all of which contained numerous bottles of different kinds of drugs. She opened the glass door to the refrigerator and placed the glass bottle from her pocket with all the other bottles with the label proamatine. She then removed a cell phone from her pocket and held down the number five key as she waited for the speed dial to take affect. Once she was connected she simply said, "It's done," before hanging up the phone and leaving the room.