#ndff

He arrives at the Claw late, rushing to shove his jacket into his locker and get to the kitchen before George notices his absence, when something crinkles unexpectedly in the pocket. Reaching in, he pulls out the polaroid - a bit wrinkled, the right corner completely folded over - but still in one piece even after the events of the day before. He stares at it for a moment, crouching in front of his open locker, trying to recall when he had acted on the impulse to grab it off the coffee table in their rush to leave, and before he can stop to realize what he’s doing he’s studying the picture’s subject instead. Hair falling into her eyes, dirt from the tunnels still smeared across her face, her features set in an expression of determined focus as she dug into the box of files Carson had procured for her, still looking so perfectly…Nancy. A small grin crosses his face as he remembers her amused reaction to the flash of the camera turning into a sincere smile as Carson told her how proud of her he was - Because of her testimony. The grin drops off his face as the memories of the rest of the day rush back into sharp focus. The sense of uselessness he’d felt as he’d dangled from that railing and watched his life be traded for the lives of countless others; the terrifying amount of finality he’d heard in her ‘I couldn’t lose you.’; the way there was no doubt in his mind about what “favor” Celia had asked for in return - a favor that for all he knows Nancy could be fulfilling right this moment. 

As if summoned by his own despondent thoughts, the door to the storeroom suddenly bursts open and Nancy rushes in, her coat hanging off of one arm as she fastens her hair into a hurried bun. Her mad dash stops short upon seeing him, and as their eyes meet he’s suddenly overwhelmed by all the things he wants to say to her; all the things he held back the day before while Grant was around. The questions of  ‘How could you -’ and ‘Why would you -’ and the arguments starting with ‘This will ruin your -’ and ‘I’m not worth -’ cycle around each other in his mind, and he can tell that something’s about to slip out his mouth but he can’t make the connection between them to know what it’ll be - And then suddenly he doesn’t have to. George’s annoyed voice rings out from the kitchen, and he’s never heard the phrase ‘saved by the boss’ before, but after this he might consider adopting it. He quickly crumples the photo into a ball and tosses it into his locker, following it with his jacket as if burying the image would help him bury the feelings it brought up. He gives Nancy a curt nod, avoiding whatever he might have seen in her eyes as he turns and heads towards the stairs, knowing there was a difference between delaying something and running away from it, but not quite sure which side this was falling on.

——————————————————————

It’s several months before he sees it again. Long enough for Everett Hudson’s first case to be declared a mistrial due to jury tampering, and for the time between it and his retrial to be just enough to allow Nick and Ryan to find a smoking gun hidden in Tiffany’s files that put the Hudson patriarch away for his full sentence (officially, at least). Long enough for Amanda to turn to him on her doorstep two weeks after the trial and tell him that she and Gil were leaving - finally following up on his lead in Santa Fe. There were kisses goodbye and offers to help in any way he could, but they both agreed it would be better for her to focus on finding her mother, and at this point it’s been long enough that he’s starting to feel like he’s doing okay after the breakup. He’s starting to feel like everything’s back to…whatever passes for normal in Horseshoe Bay. At least, he is until Nancy announces - midway through George’s mandated After Hours End-of-Summer-Cleaning Locker Inspection, no less - that she’s gotten into Columbia. 

His hand had just closed around a crumpled ball of paper in the back of his locker when the words leave her mouth, and the ball stays in his hand even as he joins in on the group hug an ecstatic Bess initiates; as he tells Nancy how happy he is for her; as he reassures George that he’ll close up so she can ride with Nick to the celebration he’s sure Carson has planned for Nancy back at their place. 

It isn’t until he’s left alone in the storeroom and he drops down onto the bench in front of his locker that he notices how tightly he’s been gripping the paper. Or the…not paper, he corrects himself as he notices the different texture of whatever he was holding. A sneaking suspicion comes from the back of his mind as he starts to smooth out the ball, and once the image is revealed in full - slightly faded with the right corner ripping off altogether after he pulls a bit too hard -  he has to fight the urge to crumple the photo again and toss it into the trash. 

Which is a weird impulse, isn’t it? Because he was happy for her, of course he was. This was Nancy’s dream school, after all, and after the year that she’s had, doesn’t she deserve to do what makes her happy? To move on with her - His thoughts stutter to a stop. He shakes his head and tries again. After all, hasn’t he - haven’t they all - known this was coming, sooner or later? Hasn’t he known from the start that Nancy was meant for bigger and better things? That she wasn’t going to hang around forever, not in this nowhere small town, with her ragtag group of friends and the dishwasher who’s been at a standstill since high school -

He’s being unfair, he knows. Because Nancy doesn’t see it, any of it, like that. He knows how much Nancy cares; about Horseshoe Bay, about her friends…about him. She’d told him as much during the countless knock-down-drag-out arguments they’d had after the incident at the paper mill, hadn’t she? But he can feel annoyance - or maybe even anger -  rising up inside him, and if he doesn’t deflect it towards her, then he’ll have to confront himself, and he’s been avoiding that confrontation for months now. He’d have to actually think about why he’s been keeping Nancy at arm’s length even after they’d both said their piece during those arguments. Why he’d been so insistent that they’d ‘gotten back to normal’ when he honestly wasn’t sure he had any idea of what ‘normal’ was for them. It certainly wasn’t the way she’d avoided his eyes when he’d congratulated her, but he wasn’t sure it was the way she had held onto his hand long after everyone else had left their hug either. He’d have to actually think about how he’d wasted so much time pretending there wasn’t still something to fix between them, and how he didn’t know what to feel now that he’s realized they’ve run out of time anyway.

When Amanda had left, it had felt like they were mutually closing a door - calm and maybe a little sad, but with both of them smiling and understanding on their respective sides. Knowing that Nancy was leaving felt like having to struggle with a door against hurricane-level winds, without a clue of what side he wanted to be on once he finally got it closed. But maybe that’s not a fair comparison to make, he rationalizes. After all, he and Amanda were together. He and Nancy have just been…  He looks back down at the polaroid, his thumb running along the torn edge as he considers just what exactly he and Nancy have been, before dragging a hand through his hair with a sigh. Too late to figure it out now, anyway.

He leans forward and slips the photo between the pages of a library book already overdue by a year at the bottom of his locker. So he’ll have something to remember her by, he tells himself, unsure if the unpleasant feeling that settles in his gut as he slams the locker shut is bitterness or just plain sadness.

——————————————————————

Life goes on in Horseshoe Bay, even without Nancy Drew. It’s not until late fall when he sees the photo again. He’s helping George and Nick with the Claw’s first official Allhallowtide event, spending his day helping kids decorate their lanterns whenever he’s not hyping Bess up over text for her ‘very preliminary, very probational, very terrifying!!!!!’ (her exclamation points, not his) first in-person meeting with Aunt Diana since she’d started slowly rebuilding their relationship. 

He’s sitting on the steps leading into the storeroom after one of their longer text exchanges, laughing when George calls out for him to make himself useful and find more markers, but he rises to follow her instructions anyway. It takes him all of 5 minutes to realize that they are completely marker-free, digging through every drawer and pencil holder in the room and coming up with nothing, before he remembers the pack of Crayolas he’s pretty sure survived his last locker clean-out. 

He unloads his jacket, a few books, and the jumbo pack of earplugs he’s been drawing from ever since that siren incident three weeks ago onto the bench to make it easier to find the markers, but the earplugs overbalance the books and everything comes toppling down before he can even look through what’s left in the locker. 

With a sigh, he leans over and picks up the old library book that fell face-down, watching curiously as a square of paper drops out from between the pages and back down onto the floor. A catalogue card, he wonders, or maybe a note someone stashed and forgot about? But as he picks it up and sees the torn right corner, he realizes that not only is it not regular paper, but that he knows exactly what he’s going to see before he flips the item over. 

A shock runs through him all the same once he does, seeing Nancy’s face for the first time in months. He doesn’t have more than a moment to think about that though, as his phone erupts with seven text tones in rapid succession at the same time George’s shouts for him to hurry up reach the storeroom. After a tiny moment of hesitation, he slides the polaroid into his back pocket and shoves everything else back into the locker before making his way back to the dining room, marker-less and contrite. 

That was a mistake. He spends the rest of the day hyperaware of what he’s holding onto, patting his pocket for reassurance it hasn’t slipped out so many times that one of Ted’s friends asks him - with all the seriousness a 9-year old can muster - if he is also suffering from the ‘wedgie-saurus’. 

It isn’t until that night, after he insists that he’ll close up the Claw so Nick and George can stay with her sisters at the lantern-lighting event, that he has a moment alone to actually look at the picture. He straddles the storeroom bench, placing it down in front of him and resting his elbows on his knees so he can lean in close as a sudden wave of guilt hits him. He remembers the way their text conversations had petered out after long stretches of one-word or emoji-only replies; the way her calls had slowly become less and less frequent until they stopped altogether. He still gets weird looks from the others when he makes excuses to avoid their video calls with her; can still hear Bess’s overly-sympathetic voice after she’d spent a long weekend in New York telling him that everything was fine, that Nancy just misses him.

He misses her too; of course he does. Some days he misses her so much the ache of it catches him by surprise. Like when he'd realized his habit of watching the door for the first ten minutes of every shift, still expecting her to rush through it with her name tag missing and an excuse at the ready. When he made a Big Lebowski reference at dinner one night and got nothing other than a confused smile from his mother in response. When he was researching something at the end of the bar and felt a phantom presence at his shoulder, like she was just outside his peripheral, leaning up against him and waiting impatiently for him to turn towards her and give her the answer she was looking for. 

It didn’t seem possible for someone he’d known for barely a year to have become such a big part of every aspect of his life, but everywhere he’s turned for months there seems to be another reminder of Nancy Drew.

And that just makes everything worse. Because he hadn’t been able to give her the answers she might have needed before she left. And now, now that he’s had the time to figure those answers out, now that they kept him up at night, running endlessly through his head while he stares dejectedly at the ceiling, he doesn’t know if they’re still the same answers she was looking for now. And he’s terrified by the thought that they might not be. He’s gotten himself caught in a mystery he doesn’t know how to solve on his own.

But maybe… His thoughts are interrupted by the chime of the clock hanging above the back door, and he starts when he realizes nearly an hour has passed since he first sat down. Glancing at the photo again, he waits for the urge to tuck it back between the pages of that book; to push his feelings down and avoid having to confront them, but it doesn’t come. 

Something else clicks into place with the last chime of the clock, and holding the polaroid in one hand, he unlocks his phone with the other, ignoring Bess’s 5 recap and 2 goodnight texts for the moment while he taps the contact info for the only other person he’s sure will be awake at midnight on a Tuesday. 

She picks up on the first ring. “Ace?” 

Her voice sounds tired, maybe even a little worried, but so deeply familiar his heart jumps into his throat just at the sound of her saying his name. “Hey, Nancy.” he begins, unable to hold back a small smile as he looks down at her picture. “Can we talk?”

Maybe he doesn’t have to solve this one alone.

Maybe neither of them do.

——————————————————————

Nancy’s bright hair makes her easy to spot, even from his position across the train platform. He watches as she peers through the crowd, noticing him with a grin and a tiny wave, before he pushes off from the wall and starts to make his way over to meet her. 

He’d practically had to fight Ryan to be the one picking her up, he imagines telling her as she laughs. The man had been ready to push him down in the driveway until Carson had stepped in to - heavily, mind you - imply that maybe Nancy and Ace could use a little ‘alone time’. 

That part he might keep to himself, actually. It was bad enough that Carson acted like he was in on some big secret every time he got off the phone with his daughter; he didn’t need her wondering why both her father figures were trading smug smiles every time the four of them were in a room together. 

He realizes too late that he’d gotten caught up in his thoughts and that Nancy was suddenly standing less than a foot away from him. “Hi.” he murmurs, the memory of their last - somewhat awkward - reunion tugging at the back of his mind. (He almost wished his arm was still in a sling. Then at least he’d only have to worry about what to do with one of his hands).

“Hi.” she replies in the same tone, her own hands twisting nervously in the strap of her bag, but a beaming smile on her face. It was the same smile he’d seen during their almost daily video calls for the past month and a half, but he hadn’t thought to prepare for the way it makes his heart flip to see it directed at him, live and in person.

“H-how’s Columbia?” he manages to only stumble over the first word, but it doesn’t really seem to matter because suddenly Nancy’s dropped her luggage and launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck and clinging to him while his arms instinctively wrap around her, pulling her closer still as he breathes in the fact that this is really happening, that it’s not a dream he’s going to wake up from to find the calendar mockingly reminding him there was another three days until her holiday break started.

He’s not sure how long they stay there, wrapped up in each other while the rest of the world moves around them, but when they finally pull away he knows his smile is as bright as hers. There’s a lot they still have to share - he hasn’t told her about his first day interning with John Sander yet, and she has a copy of the Daily Spectator with her first front page article stowed safely in her bag - and a lot - the distance, their schedules, missing each other - that they still have to figure out. But as he holds out his hand and Nancy takes it in hers, intertwining their fingers as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Ace can’t find it in himself to worry. 

Whatever happens, they’ll figure out a way to solve it. Together.

——————————————————————

“Call a spade a spade Bess.” George grumbled as she entered the kitchen with an armful of dirty dishes. “At this point she’s loitering.”

Nick glanced up from where he was reviewing that month’s order form at the prep table with a slight grin. “Don’t know if you can go that far. I mean she did pay for her dinner.”

“Oh please,” George shot back with a roll of her eyes. “It’s been 45 minutes since she paid her bill and she’s still nursing that iced tea like it’s a long island.” As if she knew they were talking about her, the redhead in the corner booth looked up from her glass and gave a small, unsure smile across the sparsely-seated dining room in their direction. She did not receive any in response.

“What I don’t understand is why she keeps coming here, of all places. I mean it’s not like our food is good.” An offended grunt came from Bess’s right, and she spun around to see the Claw’s cook pressing a burger to the grill with a wounded expression. 

“Oh no, Charlie,” she backtracked frantically, hands held out in a feeble attempt to placate the older man. “I just meant compared to what they must have at the yacht club.” 

Charlie gave a noncommittal shrug, apparently forgiving the unintended slight before moving down the line where he hopefully missed Bess’s whispered  “Or anywhere else…”

“Guys, come on.” Ace cut in, voice calm and measured even as he scrubbed determinedly at a rusting lobster pot. “It’s not like we don’t have other customers keeping us here. What’s so bad about Nancy lingering a bit?” 

“The fact that she’s not just ‘Nancy’, Ace.” George admonished as she tipped her dishes into the full sink in front of him, raising the water level until it sloshed dangerously close to the edge. “She’s Nancy Hudson. You know how the hill-toppers treat us townies -”

“When they’re not wheeling and dealing in back rooms to screw us over while they’re sitting pretty in their ivory towers.” Nick interrupted, his attention still on the sheet in front of him.  

“Exactly.” George gave her boyfriend an appreciative look as she leaned up against the prep table next to him. “And now what, I’m supposed to be happy that one of them deigned to grace us with her presence?” 

“Yes, and I had to take her hill-topper order.” Bess lamented, pouting near the line window until she noticed Nick looking at her with raised eyebrows. “What?”

“You know you’re a hill-topper, right Bess?”

She turned towards him, her expression scandalized and defensive. “That is completely different, Mr. Multimillionaire.” (Nick held his hands up in amused defeat). “I only just became a Marvin; I wasn’t born and raised a hill-topper, unlike some people.” 

“Besides,” she glanced back across the dining room with an insulted wrinkle of her nose, “the Hudsons and Marvins are long-standing enemies; it was humiliating to have to serve one of them.”

“The Hudsons and Marvins, maybe, but not you and Nancy.” Ace countered, leaning the lobster pot against the back of the drying rack before reaching into the increasingly murky water to start on George’s dishes. “You two barely know each other.”

Bess paused, playing with her necklace and staring into space as if considering this fact for the first time. “Well, I guess that’s true…"

“And she’s been spending her gap year here in town volunteering and helping Hannah Gruen set up a scholarship with the Historical Society.” Ace continued with a glance over his shoulder at Nick.

“I mean, that’s great, but -” Nick stopped, eyes narrowing “wait, how do you know that?”

Ace’s hands paused their motions, just for a fraction of a second, before he resumed rinsing a plate and gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Must’ve seen it in the paper somewhere.” He muttered offhandedly. “And -”

“And nothing.” George cut him off, crossing her arms across her chest with a scowl. “A few good deeds don’t change the fact that this time next year she’ll be 300 miles away with a full ride to some Ivy League school just because of her last name, and the rest of us will still be stuck here cleaning grease traps in an old clam shack.” Ace’s shoulders tensed more and more with every word that left her mouth. “And since when did you start defending Hudsons anyway?”

“I’m not defending the Hudsons, I’m defending Na-” Ace spun around to face the room and froze, realizing that his raised voice had turned three sets of interested eyes in his direction. (Well, four, if you counted Charlie.) “I’m not defending anybody.” he continued after a beat. “I’m just saying you can’t help who your family is, and at least she’s trying to be better than hers. It wouldn’t kill you guys to try and see that.” 

No one said anything - this was the most upset any of them had seen Ace get since the time that nor'easter put a tree branch through Florence’s windshield. “Anyway, dishes are done; I’m gonna take my break.”

He tossed the towel that had been slung over his shoulder down onto the counter and stomped down the steps towards the storeroom. The back door slammed shut a moment later, and the others turned back towards the dining room to see that Nancy had at last abandoned her iced tea and was heading towards the exit with the air of someone in a rush trying very hard to appear relaxed.

“So…” Bess began, her eyes flicking back and forth between Nancy’s booth and the door. “when do we tell him we saw them making out by the loading dock last Thursday?”  

“I say we make him sweat for a bit.” George said with a shrug as she straightened and headed out to clear the table. “Serves him right for thinking he could keep something like this from us.” Bess and Nick shared an amused smile behind her, then got back to their own work.

If any of them noticed that Ace arrived back from his break 20 minutes late with his hair in disarray, they kept it to themselves.

                                   _____

“Great. I’m going to be picking seaweed out of my hair for a week. Thanks a lot Bess.”

Bess paused her efforts to wring out her dress to shoot an incredulous look in George’s direction. “I’m sorry, how is this my fault!?”

“It’s my birthday George!” Came the response in a mocking imitation of the Brit’s accent. “Just close for inventory George! It’ll be fun George!” 

“Well excuse me for trying to enjoy a nice beach day!” Bess shot back. “How was I supposed to know we’d be attacked by that kelkey-whatever??”

“Kelpie.” Nick corrected, stopping the bickering for a moment while all three turned their attention towards the redhead kneeling in the sand and frantically running her hands over a soaking wet and slightly dazed Ace. “That’s what you called it, right?”

The second Nancy realized she was being addressed, her hands dropped from Ace’s body like they had been burned. “Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, a kelpie. They’re Scottish horse spirits that drag their victims underwater and devour them. That silver necklace Bess had was its bridle, and -” she paused, looking around to see the others staring blankly at her. 

“Sorry.” Her voice sounded almost sheepish. “I volunteer over at the historical society a lot, and there’s some…interesting stuff in their archives.” Another moment passed. No one’s expression changed.

“…Anyway the bridle can be used to control it, so I think it attacked you to try and get it back. And since you didn’t know what it was, it just seemed easier to grab it and toss it then try and explain why it was making the giant horse spirit angry.” She finished with a weak grin, as if she’d been explaining the weather and not the most terrifying thing most of them had ever seen. 

No one spoke for a while longer, and then Bess’s quiet  “Oh.” broke the silence. “Well…okay. For a second I thought you just really didn’t like my necklace.” 

The tension broken, the others looked at her with varying levels of amusement before she let out a gasp and turned to address Nancy directly. “Wait my cousin Cassidy gave me that last night! You don’t think…”

“I don’t think she knew what it was.” Nancy replied with an almost fond smile. “When the historical society got the request to put the necklace in one its deposit boxes, the record just said it was a Marvin family heirloom; brought over aboard the Governance.”

“And the kelpie followed it all the way here?” Nick asked, eying Nancy sideways as he tried to shake water out of his ear.

She shrugged. “There are some records that say kelpies are bound to follow their bridles, wherever they go. They can’t leave the water though, so it could have gotten into the bay and then…gotten lost, I guess.” Bess was already nodding along as if everything Nancy was saying made perfect sense. “We didn’t realize the necklace was anything out of the ordinary until Cassidy came to request it and Hannah thought she recognized it from her research.”

“Well good thing she did, or this might’ve been Bess’s last birthday.” George smirked. “Never thought I’d say this,” she continued, ignoring her friend’s offended huff and turning towards Nancy, “but I’m glad you were around, Hudson.”

“Thanks.” Nancy sounded like she wasn’t sure whether she should be flattered or insulted by the statement. “I was looking for you guys, actually. When we realized what the necklace was, we called Cassidy and she said she’d given it to you for your birthday, and since you were coming to the beach Hannah and I were worried that getting it too close to the water might -”

“Wait, how did you know we’d be at the beach?” Bess interrupted.

Nancy stilled, her eyes darting over to a still-groggy Ace then back to the others so quickly that they might have missed it had they not been watching her so closely. “I must have overheard it the last time I was at the Claw.” Her voice was measured; almost deliberately calm. “When it’s slow there your voices tend to carry.” 

Bess and Nick gave each other an uneasy sidelong glance at Nancy’s implication, while George’s expression grew into something approaching begrudging respect. “Anyway,” Nancy stood, brushing sand off her pants and looking anywhere but in Ace’s direction, “I should get back to Hannah and let her know everything’s okay. See you around.”

She turned and started heading towards the parking lot, and Ace watched with worried eyes as his friends had a rapid fire non-verbal conversation. Bess nodded towards Nick, who responded with a shrug. They both looked over at Ace with small smiles, then turned to George; Nick with one eyebrow raised in question and Bess with what could only be described as puppy dog eyes. George glanced at Ace before letting out a labored sigh and rolling her eyes as she called down the beach: “Hey Hudson!” 

Nancy turned, hands twisting in the strap of the messenger bag. “You wanna meet us at the Claw after we get cleaned up?” George asked. “We’re closed for inventory - it’d be a good place to talk about all…this.” (Bess cleared her throat pointedly.) “And we have cake for Bess’s birthday.”

The smile that bloomed on Nancy’s face was beaming, even at a distance. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

                                 ______

It had been three weeks since the kelpie incident, and for all intents and purposes, Nancy had settled in as the fifth member of their little group. She and Bess had gotten along almost immediately, despite some awkward encounters when they had run into family while together. 

Nick had warmed to her considerably once she started helping him with his plans for a youth center in town. (It certainly hadn’t hurt that she’d ‘misplaced’ her grandfather’s application for the building on Spring St. until Nick’s bid had already closed). 

And while George and Nancy bickered almost constantly, they (usually) did it with smiles on their faces. If asked, they might not call each other ‘friends’, but they were definitely heading in a good direction. 

The first Friday afternoon of July found them sprawled out across the dining table of Nick’s loft, brainstorming ideas for that year’s ‘Still Summer at the Bayside Claw’ event. (Or rather found most of them. Truth be told, Bess’s focus might have been more on her online shopping.) They’d been working for an hour or so when a noise like the rapid honking of a clown nose suddenly interrupted the conversation.

“Shit,” Ace muttered, grabbing his phone and snoozing the alarm, “I’m going to be late for Shabbat.” He gathered his things in a rush, exchanged a quick “Bye” and kiss with Nancy, then froze. 

His eyes moved rapidly between the others - Nancy’s wide-eyed panic; George’s look of shock and disgust; Nick’s eyebrows shooting up his forehead; Bess’s almost giddy expression - before seeming to make a decision.

“Uh…Nick,” he croaked out before anyone could react any further, making his way over to where his friend was sitting with an air of forced normalcy and kissing him like it was something he did every day. “thank you for having me.”

“See you tomorrow, Bess.” He continued, leaning over and giving her a peck on the cheek, causing a giggle to escape her barely-maintained composure.

He turned towards the other end of the table, eying George the way an antelope might eye a lion. “George -”  

“Don’t even think about it.” She cut him off with a glare.

“Right. ‘Course.” He glanced around the room one last time as he backed towards the door, eyes skipping over Nancy as if he was afraid of what his expression might reveal if he focused at all on her. “Um, have a good night everyone.” And then he was gone, the door slamming behind him as his rapid footsteps echoed down the hallway.

A minute passed in complete silence, then another. 

Nick looked absolutely mystified, his fingers stuck halfway to his lips like he couldn’t quite comprehend what had just happened. George’s grimace was slowly turning into an amused smirk, and Bess looked seconds away from breaking into complete hysterics.

Another minute passed before Nancy, staring at the table with a face almost as red as her hair, broke the silence. “So…how long have you guys known?”

“Since before the kelpie incident.” George answered bluntly, while Nick shook off his daze and turned his attention towards Nancy and Bess took a calming breath and tried to bite back her laughter.

“Oh.” 

Nancy’s eyes darted between the table and the door as if trying to decide if it would be worse to try and explain herself or just cut her losses and run. “Ok, well, we were going to tell you, we just -”

“You can relax Nancy.” Nick cut in, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She flinched at the touch, but finally turned to see an understanding smile on his face. “You wouldn’t be here right now if any of us still had a problem with you.”

Bess nodded rapidly, reaching across the table to cover one of Nancy’s hands with her own. “You make Ace happy, and that’s what really matters to us."

A wobbly smile began to grow on Nancy’s face, before she blinked and turned towards George with apprehension and a bit of challenge in her eyes. 

George’s expression stayed firm until Nick cleared his throat and gave her a pointed look. She sighed and rolled her eyes, but the grin she gave Nancy was genuine.“Plus I guess you’re not horrible.”

That pulled a laugh from Nancy, even as she blinked back touched tears she knew George would make fun of. “Thanks guys. I really appreciate that.”

Bess could hear murmured voices coming from inside, and while she couldn’t deny that part of her was dying to know what they were being so secretive about, she was more than a little surprised to see Ace so interested. “You know,” she began, setting the ketchup bottles back onto the bar and sidling over to lean against it next to Ace, “instead of trying to bore a hole through the door with that glare, you could send me in. I’m very good at ‘accidentally overhearing’ things”.

She’d expected that to get a chuckle out of him, or at least a smile, but if anything his expression only darkened. “No thanks.” He said flatly. “I already know what they’re talking about.”

“And are you planning on bringing the rest of us into the loop?” She could feel her face falling into something dangerously close to a pout. “Platanchors are meant to share things, you know - that’s what I’m here for.” He didn’t respond and his eyes stayed fixed on the door. “Is this about your brother?” she tried instead. “Did he make contact with you again? Is that where you and Nancy went yesterd-”

“Bess, please just drop it.” he interrupted, pushing off from the bar and stalking towards the storeroom. 

She watched him go, caught in shock for a moment at his brush off, before she rushed after him. He was already fiddling with his locker by the time she caught up, jabbing maybe a bit too hard at his hunched shoulder. “No I will not ‘just drop it’! I understand that this is a sore subject for you Ace, and I know you and Nancy have your own….thing going on,” he turned towards her with a pained expression at this, but she was too fired up to wonder why. “but you are my best friend, and if you think I’m just going to let you stand around sulking when I might be able to do something about it -”

“Hey!” George’s voice cut in from across the room as she poked her head through the doorway. “Can we save the dramatics for a closed restaurant? We just started getting people back in the door, and I don’t want whatever’s going on here” - a sudden “What?!” in Nick’s voice came from the direction of the office - “…or there to scare away the night owls.”

Bess turned away from Ace with a huff, perching herself on the bench with her back to him and crossing her arms in annoyance. “I’ll stop being dramatic when Ace stops keeping secrets.”

“Really? We can’t have one day of peace?” George sighed as she crossed the room, stopping in front of the bench and staring expectantly at Ace with her arms folded and an eyebrow raised. “Alright, spill it string bean”

“It’s not a secret” he protested weakly, dropping onto the bench next to Bess and swinging his legs over so they were facing the same way, avoiding eye contact the whole time. “I just don’t want to to talk about it.”

“Then you shouldn’t have let me get involved,” George snorted, “because now you’re not leaving without telling us what’s going on”

Ace looked back and forth between them, his face utterly miserable, before leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and stare at the floor. “Nancy recanted her testimony.”

“She what?!” It was hard to tell who between George and Bess looked more shocked.

“She went to the DA and told her she no longer believes Everett was responsible for the Bonny Scot sinking.”

“No she did not -” George spun on her heel before even finishing her sentence and marched up the stairs out of the room. A moment later they could hear the office door click open and slam closed, and her voice joined the muffled (but rapidly increasing in volume) conversation happening inside.

Bess looked almost beside herself. “But I don’t understand….why - how could she do that? She has more reason to distrust the Hudsons than almost anyone. With everything she knows about their shady dealings…what they did to that crew…what they did to Lucy?” Ace’s face grew more and more pained with every word. “Nancy doesn’t want anything to do with them; she hates even being in the same sentence as Everett…why would she help him like this?”

“Because of me.” Ace’s voice was dull as he lifted his head to finally look her in the eye.

“What?”

“This guy, Daniel West, he wanted information that Nancy and I helped Grant find. My brother.” He added, answering Bess’s question before it left her mouth, but continuing on before she could even think to form the countless others his bare-bones explanation brought up. “He grabbed me at the festival and used me as a bargaining chip. To save me, Nancy had to give him the information. And to keep the information from getting to the wrong people, she had to call Celia -”

“And Celia didn’t wait to cash in a favor in return.” Bess finished for him, horrified understanding flooding her face. 

Ace nodded sullenly. “And now a murder is probably going to go free and Nancy has to watch her bio-family cheat justice again because of what she did and it’s my fault.”

“Oh Ace no, it’s not your fault.” Bess murmured, wrapping her arm around his shoulders in an attempt to give any kind of reassurance she could. “There’s no way you could have known what that West guy was willing to do. We’ll just have to find another way to beat the Hudsons, but no one is to blame for this, and I know Nancy would say the same thing. I mean she would probably have done what she did for anyo-”

“But she didn’t do it for ‘anyone’, did she?” Ace finally snapped, springing up from the bench and leaving Bess’s arm to drop back to her side with a smack as he paced back and forth, his face contorted with more anger and guilt than she had ever seen him express before. “She did it for me, Bess! And now not only do I have the deaths of everyone on that ship on my conscience; I have the death of Nancy’s integrity too!”

“Don’t worry.” a weak voice called out, and they both looked up suddenly to see Nancy standing in the doorway to the kitchen, hands twisting in the strap of her bag and eyes wet. “I can’t speak for anyone on the Bonny Scot, but I’m pretty sure my integrity died the moment I found out I’m a Hudson.” It almost seemed like she was trying to make the words into a joke, but her mouth kept twisting into a grimace instead of a grin, and tears had started streaming down her face. She waved Bess back when she moved to get up and comfort her, then with a watery “See you tomorrow” she ran down the steps and out of the Claw, the back door slamming behind her with a bang that shook the bulletin board hanging on the wall next to it. 

His gaze flicked up to the rearview mirror to see Nancy smirking in his direction, seeming perfectly calm and in control despite the bandana covering her eyes. “One day we’re going to have a talk about how casually you say things like that.”

“Maybe.” She replied with a snort of laughter. “Seems more like a fourth date conversation though, don’t you think?”

He laughed and agreed, suddenly very thankful that Nancy couldn’t see how tightly he was gripping Florence’s steering wheel. The idea that she might already be thinking about their fourth date was something that both thrilled and terrified Ace, especially considering how their first was going.   

First there’d been the mix-up at the movies, where whatever high schooler running the projector had decided to sub The Big Lebowski for Nightmare on Elm Street. Then Lu Chow’s had suddenly closed for a family emergency before they’d even put their order in. Nancy had seemed to take it all in stride, but Ace would be lying if he said the missteps were helping his confidence. 

And now Bess had texted him that her weather app was reporting rain on the way, which was the last thing he needed. He was already nervous enough about this last idea - he didn’t need anything else going wrong tonight.  

But, he reminded himself as he parked the car and rushed to the back door to help Nancy out of her seat, it was too late to second-guess himself any further. One hand in each of hers, he walked backwards, guiding her step by step until they were standing between Florence’s now-dark headlights. “Ready?” She nodded with a smile as he reached up and untied the bandana.

There in front of them was a thick flannel blanket, spread out across the rocky ground at the edge of the bluffs and weighed down by two of his dad’s camping lanterns he’d borrowed from their garage. A small cooler he knew contained a pint of blueberry ice cream from Nancy’s favorite shop sat to one side, its lid slightly cracked but still sturdy. 

Bess had - very enthusiastically - agreed to get everything set up for their arrival, and looking at it now, with the moon just starting to rise and the gentle crash of the waves below, Ace had to admit it did look very romantic. He just really hoped he wasn’t the only one who saw it that way.

He chanced a glance over at her, worried he’d find her expression hurt, or worse, angry. But instead she was staring straight ahead with a far-away look in her eyes, like she was seeing something he couldn’t; watching a scene he didn’t know play out in front of her. “Nancy?” She didn’t respond. 

Shit. So much for a fourth date. He’d probably just ruined their first.

“This was stupid, sorry, I don’t know what I was -” Nancy hadn’t moved; hadn’t spoken.

His face was burning; this was terrible idea; he was an idiot.

“I’m so sorry Nance. I just thought… there’s been so many bad memories on these bluffs, that maybe there should be some good ones too; that it could help…” his voice died in his throat as he scrambled to find a way to explain 

“Help that pain become love?” Her voice was quiet as she turned to him, with watery eyes and an expression he couldn’t quite make out in the dim light, but her words struck something inside him and he wondered (not for the first time) how she always seemed to understand exactly what he was thinking.

“…Yeah. Yeah, actually, exactly that. But if you don’t like it or you think it’s weird we can go, we can go right now. I don’t ever want to do anything that would hurt you, or -”

And then she was kissing him.

And the rain started.

There was no warning - no change in the wind or distant rumble of thunder. It was like the sky just opened up and the rain came pouring down.

He could feel the droplets hitting his lucky blue pullover and flattening his hair; knew the blanket must be soaked beyond saving; could imagine the cooler filling with rainwater through the crack in the lid until the ice cream was set afloat.

But when Nancy pulled away she was laughing; really, genuinely laughing for what felt like the first time in ages, and in that moment he decided her laugh was his favorite sound in the world. 

Allowing herself another 20 minutes to be Nancy Drew before she had to wrap herself in armor and spend the night as Nancy Hudson. But despite her best efforts, the dread and guilt she’d been dealing with since the incident at the paper mill had only gotten worse as the day went on. 

And now that she’d finally gotten to the point where she couldn’t avoid leaving any longer, her thoughts had gotten so scrambled that she was starting to wonder if she should just call her grandmother back to say she’d reconsidered. 

She called out one last goodbye to Carson as the front door closed, struggling to pull her phone out of the criminally small clutch she hadn’t used since freshman formal without dropping the coat she really regretted not putting on before she stepped out into the November evening. 

All the while she was still trying - and failing (again) - to figure out the best way to tell a billionaire patriarch with a tendency of permanently removing any slight obstacle that she was his secret out-of-wedlock townie granddaughter. She was so caught up that the low whistle from her driveway nearly caused her to drop the clutch altogether. 

Her head snapped up to see Ace, silhouetted against the sunset as he leaned against Florence. “Tom was right - that really is some dress.” he remarked as she approached him. She ignored the way his eyes looked her up and down too many times to just be appreciating the dress, and hoped he was ignoring the way the flush on her cheeks grew every time. 

(They were ignoring more and more around each other lately. She was trying to ignore how that made her feel.)

“Thanks,” she held out the clutch to him and he took it without question, freeing her hands so she could pull on her coat. “but what are you-”

“Carson called me.” he answered before she could finish asking, his attention flicking to a point behind her with a smile and a wave. Nancy turned to see Carson waving back from a side window. “Said he thought you could use a lift.”

She turned back towards him, tamping down a sudden rush of fondness for both men until she could manage an amused smirk. “Sometimes it’s weird how close you two are.”

His response was an unbothered shrug and a grin as he passed the clutch back to her. “You’re just jealous that he gave me first dibs last pizza night.”

“How could I be?” She shot back with a roll of her eyes. “You went right for the pineapple.”

“Hey, don’t knock pineapple on pizza - it’s a work of underrated genius.”

That seems to be a theme with you, she thought, pausing for moment to consider if calling your best friend a genius while he smiled warmly at you in the dying sunlight that turned the edges of his hair gold was toeing a line. “Whatever you say.” she said instead, shaking her head and walking around Florence to open the passenger door with a sigh. “Now let’s get this over with.”

The smile dropped off Ace’s face at the reminder of why he was there. “Yeah, let’s go.” They climbed in and after coaxing Florence into a squeaking start, they were off.

Most of the drive to the yacht club passed in a comfortable silence - just the quiet hum of whatever 70’s rock station the radio was tuned to and the sporadic popping of Florence’s exhaust. If Nancy closed her eyes, she could almost imagine they were headed to the Claw for a late shift, or Nick’s for movie night, instead of straight into the metaphorical lion’s den. (Maybe even literal - at this point there wasn’t much she’d put past Celia).

There was something bothering Ace though, she could tell. The closer they got to the club, the tighter he gripped the wheel, clenching his jaw like he was trying to hold back whatever words were running through his head. They pulled into the long semi-circle driveway, the lights decorating the entrance of the club shining in front of them and the valet eyeing them with confusion from his podium. Ace cut the engine but didn’t move otherwise, and so Nancy didn’t either. She could wait him out - after all, it was far better than the alternative.

A beat passed, then another, and then: “I just want to say I’m sorry.” That threw her for a loop - what did he have to apologize for? “For what I said yesterday.”

She could feel her eyebrows furrowing as she ran through the conversation she knew he meant - their brief talk in the kitchen before the intergalactic crisis overrode their local one. “No, you were just being honest.” she replied. “This,” she raised her gaze towards the twinkling lights, feeling the pit of dread in her stomach more than ever, “could change everything. And even with Swift-approved armor, I’m afraid of what happens to Nancy Drew once Nancy Hudson is out in the open.” her voice sounded small; vulnerable; honest in a way she wasn’t sure she could be with anyone but him.

“I’m not.” his jaw was set; his face determined when she looked over at him. “I don’t know what’s going to happen in there, and I don’t know what they’re going to ask of Nancy Hudson, but I was wrong when I said this would be the end of Nancy Drew.” he turned to meet her eyes, his own imploring. “Nancy Drew is smart, and caring, and sarcastic, and determined, and self-sacrificing to an almost dangerous degree, but she’s good.” 

The back of Nancy’s neck felt hot; the car suddenly felt a thousand times too small. She wanted to wrench open the door and run, but she couldn’t make herself look away from his eyes; she was almost afraid to blink and end whatever this moment was. “You’re good Nancy. You’re a good daughter and a great detective, and you’re a really, really good friend. You’re one of the best people I know, and no Hudson blood or last name is going to change that.”

There was a pause as he opened his mouth like he was going to say more, but then he closed it and dropped his head, avoiding her gaze as he fiddled with Florence’s gearshift. “Anyway, I know you’ve been dealing with a lot, and I know I’ve been acting like part of the problem, but I just want you to know that if you ever get confused about who you are, I’ll be here to remind you.”

There were a thousand thoughts running through her head, trying to line themselves up in way that she could make enough sense of to put them into words. How what he’d said had almost made her forget what she was about to walk into. How she didn’t think he could be a problem for her if he tried. How similar this felt to another conversation, maybe just over a month ago, when he’d been there to offer her understanding and someone to come to when things got hard. 

She hadn’t had the words then - she wasn’t sure if she would ever find them - but somehow hearing that he still wanted to be there for her after all they’d gone through made her feel like she could face down a hundred Everett Hudsons. But she didn’t say any of that.

Instead, she reached out and covered the hand he was still resting on the gearshift with her own, waiting until his eyes met hers again. “Thank you.” she said softly, giving him what felt like her first genuine smile of the day. “That really means a lot to me Ace.” It wasn’t much; it wasn’t even close to everything she wanted to say to him, but it was all she could manage for now, and she thought he’d understand that. Hoped he would. He seemed to understand her better than she did herself, most days.

“‘Course.”  he replied with a grin, and she felt a little bit of the weight on her shoulders fall away. His eyes dropped down to her hand covering his before meeting hers again. “Nancy -”

But whatever he was going to say was interrupted by a loud knocking on the driver’s side window, causing them both to jump and look to see an anxious valet staring down at them. “Um, excuse me sir,” he began once the window had been rolled down, “but if you aren’t going to use the valet services I’m going to have to ask you to pull forward to the main parking lot. The other guests will be arriving soon and they can get…unhappy if we’re not able to help them quickly.”

“Right, yeah, sorry.” Ace shot the teen an apologetic smile. “One more second and we’ll be out of your way.” Seemingly satisfied, the valet turned and started to make his way back to his podium, casting worried looks over his shoulder at them the whole time. “Guess that’s your cue.” Ace continued, turning back towards Nancy with a resigned expression she was pretty sure matched her own.

“Yeah, guess so.” she turned her attention to the doors of the club as an employee around the valet’s age pulled them open and let the light from inside spill out. She wondered if Celia was in there, looking for her. She wondered what she might have already told her husband; wondered just what she was going to find once she crossed that threshold; what risk she was putting herself in; exactly how far she’d be able to push her luck.

Ace’s “hey” pulled her back into the car. “You’ll call if anything happens? I’ll get the whole crew here for backup.”

She noticed he didn’t ask her to wait for them - they both knew she probably wouldn’t. “I’m not sure Florence could handle a full cabin in such a rush.”

“Hey, Florence is tougher than she looks, and you didn’t answer the question.”

“Of course I’ll call.” she gave his hand a quick squeeze before releasing it and grabbing the clutch instead so she could be ready to go (and not so she could avoid seeing his reaction). The passenger door opened with a high-pitched squeak, and Nancy stepped out into the cool night air. “And Ace?” she turned back to him before closing the door, lingering in her one final moment of only having to be Nancy Drew. “Thanks for the lift.”

He kept playing the events of that day back, trying to figure out what he’d done to cause the change in the detective’s behavior. 

If she’d seemed a little upset as she watched them pull up to the dock, he had assumed it was because she was expecting the other Bobbsey twin, and she’d quickly covered up any disappointment she might’ve felt by explaining her plan for once they’d reached the island. Things had seemed normal on the boat ride out, but as the day went on, he kept noticing Nancy was acting…off. 

Like when he’d felt her lean against his arm to get a better look at the map he had pulled up on his phone, but when he’d turned his head to ask her where to start their search she’d suddenly been a foot away, standing stiffly and looking determinedly in the opposite direction. When she’d shied away from his touch after he tried to tend to the hand she cut on the rocks, wrapping it poorly in her scarf instead and insisting she was fine. When she thanked him for his help after they’d gotten back to the Claw without meeting his eyes and all but ran away to whisper with Bess by the bar.

For one crazy moment he’d thought that it might have something to do with Amanda - that Nancy didn’t like her for some strange reason, and so she was distancing herself from them both. But no, she’d returned Amanda’s hug goodbye sincerely that day, and she’d been genuinely friendly in the times they’d interacted since.

It was Ace she was taking a half step back from every time he met her at the line with a customer’s order; Ace she’d started sitting at the opposite end of the bar from while they researched; Ace she couldn’t seem to be alone in a room with. It was like she was course-correcting herself every time she was around him, and he hadn’t realized how used to her closeness he’d gotten until it was gone. 

He was half hoping Bess might ask what he was talking about; help him believe that this was all in his head, but her eyes were far too full of understanding to pretend that was true. “Oh sweetie she’s not avoiding you.” she began, reaching up to pat his shoulder consolingly. “She’s just…” her words trailed off as Nancy crossed in front of them to put the couple’s order in, returning their smiles with one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“She’s just figuring some things out.” Bess finished, as if that made anything less confusing. He didn’t like the thought that Nancy might have a problem she couldn’t come to him about; much less that the problem might be him. “Give her a little time and everything will be fine, I promise”. Bess sounded so confident. Ace wanted to ask what she knew that he didn’t, but at that same moment Nancy’s own words floated up from his memory: ‘If I find the words I will share them with you’. 

They’re tucked into the corner booth when she says it, re-reviewing the footage of the night Tiffany died while Laura and the others debate the best way to bring Ryan to the Claw. “Not wearing what?” he asks, taking his attention from the laptop for a moment to cast a sidelong glance in her direction.

Nancy’s focus never shifts. “Your earring.” she replies evenly, eyes still glued to the screen in front of them while waving her hand vaguely towards his left ear. “I don’t think you were wearing it last night either - first time I’ve ever seen you without it.”

He gives a considering hum, his hand unconsciously rising to confirm the absence of the small silver ring he usually wears in his ear. “I didn’t really think anyone would notice.” 

“Yeah, well,” she pauses the video and turns towards him with a sardonic smile. “girl detective and all that.”

“Right, of course.” Ace chuckles, before realizing she’s still watching him, expecting an answer. “Well, I was supposed to meet up with Laura yesterday after work. Before all the…everything happened with the Whisper Box.” Something flashes across Nancy’s expression at the mention; memories of whatever details of that alternate reality experience she’s probably already decided to keep to herself. 

“And we rescheduled for tonight, so it just seemed easier to leave it at home to make sure I don’t forget to take it out. Although now that I think about it,” he pauses, casting an unsure look around the room, “a reenactment of someone’s last moments doesn’t exactly scream ‘date night’, does it.”

He half expects another cajoling remark about how ‘romantic’ solving a homicide is, or how he and Laura will have plenty of time for date night once they move to Paris (delivered in a sarcastic tone that makes it very clear how likely she finds that particular scenario). 

But instead she stays silent, watching him from under a slightly furrowed brow; an expression that would have appeared judgmental from anyone else, but seems almost natural for Nancy. “And why doesn’t Laura like the earring?” she asks, easily filling in the gaps in his explanation.

Ace shrugs. “She said she thought I was ‘moving away from that stoner aesthetic’ , whatever that means.”

Nancy’s eyes narrow. “Does she know about the joint you’ve had in your locker for the past week?”

“Let’s maybe keep that between us.” he answers with a laugh.

She gives him a grin before turning her attention back to the laptop. “For what it’s worth,” she begins, “I always thought it looked pretty good.”

“Really?” he can’t keep the slight note of surprise out of his voice. He hadn’t really considered that she might have thought about what looks good on him.

She nods, her finger hovering over the space bar to resume the video “It suits you - a very Ace kind of look.” 

He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can he’s cut off by a hissed “Ace!” from across the dining room. Both his and Nancy’s heads snap up to see Bess frantically waving them over as Laura holds her phone up to her ear. “Ryan!” she chirps into it, her voice light and airy and betraying nothing about her real motivations. “You know I’ve been thinking, we’ve both been through so much after losing Tiffany. We should really meet up and try to start to heal…together.” 

Nancy shuts the laptop and they wordlessly shuffle out of the booth to join the others and hopefully - finally - get some answers.

                                   -

Nancy notices three things in fairly quick succession during the crew’s conversation at the Claw the next morning. First is Ace’s presence, meaning that Paris had ended up being a no for him after all. (Not that she had really allowed herself to doubt that.) 

Second is the reappearance of his earring, glinting in the sunlight as he and Nick follow her out the door and across the parking lot towards the Sunbeam. 

And third is the strange sense of satisfaction that settles in her chest after seeing it; the feeling that something had been set right just by Ace having that bit of metal back in his ear.