Author's Note: First and formost, anyone who's read my other HB story, "Lost," I will be posting a new chapter this weekend for sure. If not, feel free to send me hate mail (ducks head), I'm sure I'll deserve it. But honestly, the next chapter is almost done, I'm sure I can finally finish it!

This story is an experiment. This shall be the only author's note (hence why it's a bit long) unless something truly dramatic happens. Five days ago I got an idea in my head, then, with the help of my best sounding board, AuroraDannon, it exploded into a story. From start to finish, gritty details and all. Only problem, none of it was written down. Been having issues with actually writing lately. So, that same awsome, most fantastic, sounding board of mine, suggested I try an experiment, that hopefully will increase my writing on all my other stories as well.

Every day until this fic is finished, I shall write and post something. Be it five pages or five paragraphs. I realize short chapters can be rather annoying, so when the story is complete I shall reformat it into real chapters, as well as send it through a beta, and not just my quick editing abilities.

For those of you who wish to follow along with me on this experiment, while the beginning is predominantly Nancy, it does evolve to i everyone /i . I hope the story is as intriguing to you, as it is, to me. :D

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Nancy Drew hesitated.

When she got up this morning she knew she'd wanted to come today, but now that she was there she wasn't so sure.

Unfortunately, before she could change her mind, Laura Hardy spotted her. Too late now. Breathing in to calm her nerves, Nancy stepped off of the walkway and onto the carefully manicured lawn.

The lot wasn't far in, and she reached the Hardy family soon. Laura smiled, holding her hands out to take Nancy's hands in her's, but the contact was as much to give comfort as to take it. "I'm glad you came," Laura said. From the redness in her eyes, Nancy suspected the woman had been crying that morning.

Her husband, Fenton Hardy, and extremely renown detective, looked much the same, even though he had a smile much like his wife's. Nancy wasn't surprised. She'd cried herself to sleep last night hoping to be out of tears by morning.

Together, the three turned to the Hardy's youngest son, Joe, but he hadn't turned to them, hadn't looked up as Nancy had approached, hadn't moved at all. "Joe," Laura tried, but he didn't respond.

"It's okay," Nancy quickly reassured them. It was obvious the family had been there for a while now, and Joe Hardy had every right to ignore the world right now.

Apparently, Fenton felt much the same, and wisely taking his wife in hand, stated, "Joe can catch up with us later. Nancy, it was good to see you. Don't be a stranger."

"I won't," she promised, but silently wondered how true that was. This last year had been hard, and it was tempting to try and just leave it all behind her.

Nancy watched the couple leave. Then, with another breath, this time to get her courage up, she stepped up next to Joe and looked down at Frank Hardy's grave.

For several minutes neither of them spoke, each of them lost in their own personal struggle. Then, finally, Joe said, "I miss him."

"Me, too," Nancy replied, still lost in the words on the black marble tombstone. It'd been a year, but it still seemed too new, too clean, too fresh in her mind for a year to have passed.

"He shouldn't have died," Joe stated, his voice low and intense. Nancy completely agreed, but she had seen enough in her life to know life wasn't controlled by justice, it was controlled by humans, and humans were completely unpredictable. At least in this case they had found retribution for Frank's death.

"Nan," Joe began, his voice filled with emotion, but when their eyes met he broke away. "It's just not right."

"There's nothing you could have done," she tried to console him, and selfishly, herself at the same time. "You know how stubborn Frank is...was."

Joe was quiet. Nancy bit her lip, ashamed of the slip, but even now it was hard for her to admit he was really gone.

Hands clenched at his side, not angry at her, just angry. Then suddenly he sighed, all the anger draining out of him. "So how have things been going, Nancy?"

"The CIA's more boring than I thought it would be," Nancy truthfully replied, but Joe huffed out a smile as if it were a joke. Life as an adult was nothing like the radical adventures they ended up on in their amateur sleuth days. "What about you?" Nancy asked, hoping to keep the conversation from the gloominess of the day.

An irritated expression creased Joe's face as he looked at her. He shrugged. "It's okay, I guess. We just wrapped up a case involving a crooked accountant at some big corporation. You wouldn't believe how much he'd managed to embezzle out of the company. We're still trying to find all the money trails." His eyes unbidden strayed back to the grave. "It was just the type of case Frank would have loved."

As before, Joe's face hardened in anger. "He should have been there."

At this point, it was pointless to remind Joe that Frank had still been in university when he died, working on his third degree that in all likely hood wasn't going to lead to a life of crime solving. But Nancy knew Frank had still been working with Joe on his cases.

She well knew the pull of a family business.

Then, to her surprise, Joe suddenly grated out, "It was my fault he was there that night." His voice turned husky with emotion. "I told him about the case, didn't want to tackle it on my own. I just never thought he'd go without me." He turned to her, tears brimming at the edges of his eyes as his anger turned to grief. "If he found out where the lab was, why didn't he tell me?" Joe pleaded with her, grasping for a reason that could sooth his grieving mind. "I would have gone with him, he knew that. It was my case, he should have called me!"

Nancy felt like crying, but held the tears back. Squeezing his hand, she quietly replied, "And if he had, you've have died, too."

"You don't know that," but the conviction wasn't there.

Nancy pulled him to her, embracing him tightly in a hug. "Oh Joe," she softly murmured, feeling the hurt he felt almost as strongly. "Lady Luck can't be with us all the time."

He didn't say anything, but she felt him shake with suppressed tears. Nancy just hugged him all that much tighter. Joe had always been like a younger brother to her, or a cousin. She was naturally protective of him, and with Frank gone, she had to be doubly so.

The rest of the morning dragged on and sped up in alternating bursts. They had finally left the graveyard, collecting their thoughts and memories over a couple cups of coffee, but while Joe had the day off work, Nancy didn't, and all too soon she had to excuse herself. At least they were talking again. Nancy made a silent goal to herself to not make the anniversary of Frank's death the only reason for them to get together.

The drive back to New York was a long one. Nancy dreaded work. She wasn't lying when she said it was more boring than she thought it would be. There was more paper work involved than believable, and likely the cause of a good chunk of the people's tax money.

If she ever got into the field, that might change, but she was only a couple years out of school, and still way low on the totem pole. In truth, most CIA agents were trained for the field, but very few actually worked there. Most, like her, spent a large part of their time researching.

tbc…