Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I did my best to purge the alcohol from his system as best I could, but I didn't have the right kind of equipment, and my first aid course back home didn't exactly cover this,” Frank explained, passing Gabe over to the paramedics. They'd been a little more concerned with Trish—the craziness of an emergency tracheotomy was a little hard to ignore—until he'd explained that Gabe had mixed Jack Daniels and Skittles—and not the candy kind. They recognized that for what it was and took over, much to Frank's relief.

“I think you did fine,” Joe told him, and Frank tried to force a smile. He knew Joe might gloat a bit more if the situation was reversed, but Frank had never liked being responsible for other people's lives. He hated feeling helpless. “Ooh, that looks like it might be Nancy's dad.”

“Our cover and hers will be blown if he sees me,” Frank said, stepping back from the ambulance and looking around. He'd suggested that the rest of Gabe's friends go to the emergency room as well, but he didn't know if they'd listened to him.

Joe met him over in the shadows. “I think it's time we had a little talk with a guy named Churchill, don't you?”

Frank eyed the crowd, nodding. As interesting as their time in LA had been, it was time to end it. Past time, really.

“We're looking for a man named Churchill.”

“Think you're about fifty years too late for that.”

“If we were seeking Winston, yes, but not every Churchill is the prime minister of Britain, and not everyone has a father accused of being a part of the Ripper conspiracy, either,” Frank said, and Joe looked over at him. His brother really was a dork. Who knew all that stuff? More importantly, who cared?

Then again, he had a feeling that it might work on Nancy, of all people.

“You know your history, kid,” the guy told Frank, who shrugged. Joe hoped that bit of trivia was somewhat useful, but he didn't know—the guy hadn't seemed all that impressed with what Frank had said. “Shouldn't waste a mind like yours on what Churchill sells.”

“My mind is my own,” Frank said, and he was right because he could be pretty darn stubborn sometimes. Joe just smiled. “Look, we need to talk to him. He sold a friend of ours something, and the guy's in the emergency room now. We need some of it so they can help him.”

The guy jerked his thumb to the back of the building, and Frank thanked him as he moved forward. Joe followed after him, ready to get this case finished. All they needed was a few things from Churchill, and they'd have this Skittles trade shut down for good.

Frank stopped abruptly, and Joe walked into his back. “Ow. What the hell?”

“Well, well. I knew you two boys were trouble the minute you showed up at that school,” a voice said, and Joe recognized it as his chemistry teacher with a sick feeling in his stomach.

This was not good.

“You're Churchill?”

“And you're Joe and Frank Hardy.”

Okay, Joe took it back. This was really, really bad.