#emerson cod

The facts are these: Ned, the tall, somewhat socially anxious Pie Maker, had a heart that currently felt like a piece of dough that had been kneaded for far too long. It was tough, tired, and a little bit hollow.

Charlotte "Chuck" Charles, his childhood sweetheart and the girl he had brought back from the dead, was still there. She was in the kitchen, she was at the counter, and she was helping with cases. But she wasn't his anymore. They had decided, with a lot of tears and very few words, that she needed to see the world. She needed to breathe air that didn't smell like flour and secrets. She was leaving in a week to travel the globe with her father.

And then there was Y/N.

Y/N was the waitress. She was the one who wore the bright colors and kept the coffee hot. She was the one who had loved Ned through the Chuck years, through the lonely years, and through every single "no" he had never actually said aloud.

The Pie Hole was filled with a tension that was thicker than the rhubarb filling. Ned was rolling dough with a focused intensity, trying not to look at Chuck, who was organizing the spice rack.

"I’m really going to miss the cinnamon," Chuck said, trying to be lighthearted. "I don’t think they have cinnamon like this in Singapore."

Ned nodded, his eyes fixed on the table. "They have spices. Better ones, probably."

Y/N stood at the end of the counter, a tray tucked under her arm. She watched them, the boy who was heartbroken and the girl who was breaking his heart. It felt like watching a play she had seen a thousand times, and she was just the person who pulled the curtains.

Her heart didn't just ache, it felt heavy. It felt like a stone she had been carrying in her pocket for years. She was tired. She was so very tired of hoping that one day Ned would look at her the way he looked at a perfectly baked crust, or even better, the way he looked at Chuck.

"I’m going to go start the car," Emerson Cod announced, bursting in and saving them all from the silence. "The dead guy is waiting, and he isn’t getting any fresher. Let’s go, Pie Maker. Chuck, bring your notebook. Pocket-sized waitress, bring your... whatever it is you do."

"I bring the common sense," Y/N muttered, grabbing her sweater.

The facts are these: Silas Vane was a man who built things out of metal. He also died by metal. He had been found pinned under a massive iron beam in his abandoned foundry. The police called it a freak accident. The widow, who had a very large life insurance policy to collect, wanted proof of foul play.

The foundry was a cavernous, terrifying place. It was filled with rusting machinery, dangling chains, and the smell of old grease and cold soot.

"Be careful," Ned said, his voice echoing. He looked at Chuck. "It’s slippery.

Y/N walked three steps behind them. She saw the way Ned’s hand twitched, wanting to reach for Chuck’s. She saw the way Chuck smiled sadly back at him. It was a beautiful, tragic dance, and Y/N was the wallflower.

‘I don’t want to do this anymore’, Y/N thought. ‘I don’t want to be the backup. I don’t want to be the one who waits.’

They reached the body. Ned leaned over, his magic finger ready. He touched the cold skin of Silas Vane. The man gasped, his iron-gray eyes snapping open.

"Who’s there?" Silas croaked.

"You have sixty seconds," Emerson said, checking his watch. "Who dropped the beam on you?"

"It wasn't a who," Silas wheezed. "It was the chain. It’s... it’s all rigged. The whole place. Don't touch the—"

*CLANG.*

The sound was like a thunderclap. High above them, a rusted chain snapped. A massive iron hook, the size of a tractor, began to swing wildly across the ceiling. It was coming straight for the platform where they stood.

"Ned, look out!" Chuck screamed, diving to the left.

Ned was frozen. He looked up, his eyes wide. The hook was massive, a blur of rust and death, swinging like a pendulum. He wouldn't be able to jump in time.

Y/N was closer. She didn't scream. She didn't hesitate. She lunged forward, her small frame colliding with Ned’s chest. She threw every ounce of her weight into him, shoving him off the platform and into a pile of soft burlap sacks below.

But the platform was narrow. And the hook was fast.

As Ned tumbled to safety, the edge of the iron hook caught Y/N. It didn't hit her full-on, if it had, she would have been gone instantly, but it slammed into her side with the force of a car, throwing her off the platform in the opposite direction, deep into the shadows of the machinery.

Ned landed hard in the sacks. He scrambled up, gasping. "Chuck! Emerson! Is everyone okay?"

"I'm fine!" Chuck shouted, climbing up from the floor.

"I'm fine, but my suit is ruined!" Emerson grumbled.

Ned looked around, his heart beginning to thud painfully. "Where’s Y/N?"

Silence.

"Y/N?" Ned called out, his voice rising in pitch. "Y/N, where are you?"

Deep in the shadows, tucked behind a massive, rusted boiler, Y/N was curled on the cold concrete. Her side felt like it was on fire, and then, slowly, it began to feel like nothing at all. She could feel the wetness of blood soaking through her favorite yellow cardigan.

She heard Ned calling her name. She opened her mouth to answer, but then she stopped.

‘Why?’ she thought.

If she answered, he would find her. He would be worried. He would be kind to her for a few days, maybe a week. He would bring her soup and tell her she was brave. And then, he would go back to looking at Chuck. He would go back to being the Pie Maker who lived in a dream of a girl who was leaving.

She was so tired of the "almosts." She was tired of the crumbs of affection.

‘Maybe this is okay,’ she thought, her vision blurring. ‘If I just stay quiet... I can just go to sleep. It won't hurt anymore. No more pining. No more heartbreak. Just... quiet.’

She closed her eyes and let her head rest against the cold iron. She felt strangely peaceful. She had saved him. That was her last act. It was the most "Y/N Y/L/N" thing she could have ever done, dying for a man who was looking for someone else.

"She’s not answering," Ned said, his voice trembling. "Emerson, she pushed me. I felt her. She saved me."

"Check the floor," Emerson said, his face turning serious.

Ned began to run. He ignored the swinging hook, he ignored the dust, and he ignored Chuck calling after him. He realized, with a sudden, horrifying clarity, that he hadn't seen Y/N since the hook swung.

He moved toward the back of the foundry. He saw something glinting on the floor. A button. A small, yellow button from her uniform.

"Y/N!" he screamed.

He turned the corner behind the boiler and stopped.

She looked so small. She was tucked away like a discarded toy. The light from the high windows hit her face, making her look pale and ethereal.

"No," Ned whispered. "No, no, no."

He dropped to his knees beside her. He was terrified to touch her, but he saw her chest moving, slow, shallow movements. She was alive.

"Y/N, look at me," he pleaded, gently lifting her head. "Why didn't you shout? I was right there! I was right here!"

Y/N’s eyes flickered open. They were unfocused, but when they finally landed on Ned, a small, sad smile touched her lips.

"Hi, Ned," she whispered. Her voice was barely a breath.

"We have to get you out of here," Ned said, tears streaming down his face. "Why did you do that? You saved me."

"I always... save you," she breathed. "It’s my job. Even when it's not... my job."

She coughed, and a drop of blood escaped her lips. Ned wiped it away with his thumb, his heart breaking into a million pieces.

"Ned?" she whispered.

"I'm here. I'm right here."

"I'm tired," she said. "I’m so tired of being the one who loves you more. So I think... I think I’ll just stop now."

"Don't stop," Ned begged. "Don't you dare stop."

"I love you," she said, her voice suddenly clear, filled with all the years of devotion she had kept tucked inside her apron. "I’ve loved you since the first pie. I just wanted you to know... one last time. Before I go."

Her eyes drifted shut. Her hand, which had been resting on his arm, fell limp.

"Y/N? Y/N!"

Ned pulled her close, burying his face in her neck. He felt the faint, thready pulse. She was still there, but she was slipping away.

And in that moment, the world shifted.

He thought about Chuck. He looked at Chuck, who was standing a few feet away, her hand over her mouth. He felt... affection for her. He felt a deep, old love. But it was a love of the past. It was a love that was already saying goodbye.

Then he looked at the woman in his arms.

He thought about every morning at The Pie Hole. He thought about the way Y/N knew exactly how much flour he used by the sound of the scoop. He thought about the way she defended him to Emerson. He thought about the way she had jumped in front of a literal ton of iron without a second thought.

She hadn't just saved his life today. She had been saving his life every single day for years. She was the one who stayed. She was the one who didn't want to see the world, she just wanted to see him.

"I’ve been so blind," Ned sobbed, rocking her back and forth. "I’ve been such a fool."

He realized that he didn't just need Y/N. He loved her. Not as a backup, not as a friend, but as the person who made his soul feel safe. She was the home he had been looking for while he was staring at the stars.

"Emerson! Call an ambulance!" Ned roared. "Now!"

The facts are these: Y/N did not die. She was too stubborn, and the doctors were too good, and Ned refused to leave her side for even a second.

Three days later, Y/N opened her eyes in a quiet hospital room. The sun was shining through the window, and the room smelled like... pie?

She turned her head. Ned was sitting in a chair by the bed. He looked terrible. His hair was a mess, he had dark circles under his eyes, and he was holding a small, individual-sized pear pie.

"You're awake," he said, his voice cracking.

"I think so," Y/N whispered. She looked around. "Am I... am I still the backup?"

Ned moved to the edge of the bed. He took her hand, carefully, so carefully, and pressed it to his cheek.

"You were never the backup," he said firmly. "I was just too stupid to realize that you were the whole point. Chuck is leaving, Y/N. And I’m staying. But I only want to stay if you’re there with me."

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the hospital blankets. "Ned? Are you sure? Is this the 'I almost died' guilt talking?"

Ned shook his head. He leaned forward and kissed her palm. "It’s the 'I can't imagine a single pie without you' truth talking. I love you, Y/N. I love your red pears, and your yellow sweaters, and the way you save me when I don't deserve it. Please... stay with me?"

Y/N looked at him, really looked at him. She saw the truth in his eyes. The pining was gone. The confusion was gone. There was only Ned.

"Okay," she whispered, a tear of pure happiness sliding down her cheek. "I think I can do that."

The Pie Hole would still be there. The dead would still need questions answered. But for the Pie Maker and his waitress, the facts had finally changed for the better.

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