"I love you."
Nancy closed her eyes. She could feel the disorientation, the nausea, the confusion, but in the middle of it was Ned. She clung to him, gasping in her breaths, incoherent. She heard a long, ragged keening, hoarse and pleading, and realized it was coming from her throat.
"I love you. Where does it hurt?"
Nancy's hands fluttered, but she found that she couldn't release him; she clung to him as tightly as she could. She could feel that—that things had to be misfiring, that nothing made any real sense. She burrowed against him, her lips parted, still gasping in desperate breaths.
Shit. It was bad this time.
"Okay. It's all right. We're on the way to the hospital. They'll fix you right up."
Dimly, she knew that they wouldn't. She knew that this would take time and rest. It could be a month before the confusion fully cleared. They could do something about the throbbing pain in her knee and hip, her elbow. She felt like she had slammed her entire side into solid steel, and maybe she had. Her recollection was so hazy it was nearly useless.
And the case wasn't resolved.
"Shh," he murmured, and she didn't think she had said anything, but maybe she had. Maybe. "Just relax. Shh."
She drifted off, the scent of him filling her senses, the solid bulk of him beneath her. She had practically wrapped herself around him, as much as she could. They would have to use a crowbar to pull them apart.
And then she was limp weight in his arms, reduced to the pain of her throbbing side and the reassuring feel of Ned.
--
The nurse reassured Ned that Nancy was resting as comfortably as possible, that he would be notified if anything changed, but for now, her prognosis was good. She would need a lot of recovery time and rest, and Ned had the perfect venue in mind for that.
In the meantime, though.
Ned stepped out of the hospital and reached into his pocket. The shattered screen was a jagged-edged spiderweb under his fingertips, and his touch was tentative as he tugged it out. It was the best clue to whoever had done this to Nancy; that, and the limp Ned's tackle had bestowed on Nancy's assailant. Wherever the guy was, he was bearing a gravel-scraped knee and was minus one cell phone.
Joe had bolted after the suspect. Frank had called something about security footage. Neither one of them had spared a second to consider or ask about how Nancy was doing, after her fall onto the storage container from the ledge above. They were so close to finding the culprit that they could taste it.
Well. To hell with both of them.
After three text conversations, Ned had found the safehouse where the guy had gone to ground. An off-duty paramedic was there, per one of the conversations Ned had held while impersonating the guy, and Ned glanced over at George, who was gazing down at her phone in the passenger seat. Bess had promised to message them with any updates.
"Any change?"
George shook her head and put her phone away. "What's the plan?"
"Chokehold."
George snorted. "Well, of course."
"Seriously." Ned ran his fingers through his hair. "I might need you to stop me from killing this guy. Seeing Nan that way..."
"Hey, I get it. You're preaching to the choir."
"It just doesn't get easier."
"No," George agreed. "I'm surprised you wanted me for backup."
Ned snorted. "Let's just say that my faith in the other members of the team is severely lacking, and has been for a long time. They don't give a damn about her. I've given them so many chances, and every time I've regretted it." He shook his head. "I'm done."
George raised her eyebrows, but didn't say anything for a moment. "Can I be there when you tell them?"
Ned grinned. "Of course."
Ned didn't kill him. As it turned out, he didn't need to. He peered through a window to find the paramedic standing up in the main living space with his palms up and out, and a woman with a gun facing Ned's target. He couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but all the signs pointed to a bitter argument.
George circled around and gently touched Ned's elbow when she returned. "So there's a big dog out back," she murmured. "What do you think, disable the car?"
Ned pondered. Taking the time to come all the way out here had let him cool down a bit. He also had zero faith that Frank and Joe had found enough evidence to convince the cops to do anything about their case. Their style was more to confront the possible culprit and then—
Ned pressed his lips together. He wasn't being nice. He also didn't fucking care, not right now.
He had described the Hardys to Mike one night, after another case had taken yet another bad turn, and Mike had cracked up and said, "So they like to play cops and robbers, huh?" That image had never really left Ned's head, and that association had never really detached from them after that. When Nancy took a case, it was almost always to help someone whose problem just couldn't really be resolved by the police, for whatever reason. The Hardys seemed to take pride in taking on cases that were so far above their pay grade, it was laughable. Maybe they were just always hoping to impress their father. Ned didn't know or care.
He couldn't tell Nancy to stop helping them. He knew enough about her to understand just how completely that would backfire, and he trusted her intelligence. He just didn't trust them.
This was a symptom. He was still no closer to a cure.
The sound of a gunshot inside the house had both Ned and George jumping. They risked another glance inside and saw that another figure had entered the scene, and now the paramedic, the suspect, and the new guy were all waving their hands around. The woman's arm was steady, but she looked even more furious.
And Ned felt infinitely tired. The sight of this tableau should have left him feeling energized, heady from a rush of adrenaline. Maybe a few years ago he would have come up with a plan to rush inside, disarm the woman, overpower the suspect. Instead, he just wanted to take Nancy home, take care of her, see her smile at him again. That was all.
"Let's disable the vehicles and call the cops," Ned suggested. "We can let the idiots know what's going on after everyone's in custody."
George nodded. "Sounds fabulous."
--
Nancy woke to salt air and coconut.
She returned to consciousness slowly, feeling as relaxed as she could ever remember. The room was pale, sand-beige and shades of white, framed by potted plants with glossy green leaves, and on the other side of the glass doors, the ocean.
The trip had been long, and Nancy had been semi- or unconscious for most of it. She remembered Ned holding her hand, cradling her to him, his thumb stroking over her skin. The worst of her injuries had begun to heal, but she still tired easily, still had trouble concentrating for long. It would be a few weeks before that became easier.
Apparently Ned had decided that the best environment for this stretch of her recovery was a tropical getaway.
She turned onto her back and stretched, then winced when the motion made her head pound a bit. The bed was luxuriously plush, and she stayed snuggled into the linens a while longer. Then she began to push herself upright.
A man approached the patio, another man alongside, calling out an easy greeting. Then Nancy noticed that Ned was seated on the patio, facing out, like he had been waiting for this. She let herself collapse to the bed again, curious, but with no urgency. Recovering from a concussion seemed to make all her responses slower, like her processing speed had been halved for a while.
"How's she doing?"
"She's recovering. And that's all she's doing."
Frank. Then Ned's reply. On the surface it was friendly, but only just. Underneath, Ned's voice was distant, cold. It was a tone she had only heard him use a few times, and so rarely directed toward her, that it sent a small shiver down her spine.
"Great. That's great."
Ned dragged his hand through his hair in a gesture of exasperation that Nancy knew well. "What's going on?"
Joe answered him. "She was helping us track someone down late last year. He's surfaced again."
"And I'm sure you can manage."
"It's nothing that strenuous. We could handle it all over the phone. Just need to pick her brain for a few possible leads..."
Something struck Nancy as strange about that, but she had found it was much, much easier just to let impressions and anxiety fade without her interference. She could ask Ned for help if she needed it, and—
Ah. If they could have handled it over the phone, why hadn't they? That was what hit her as strange.
Maybe they'd sent her a message. Reading messages made her head hurt, and her father and friends knew to just call, or to message Ned if they needed her.
"Her brain's not available for rent right now. Thanks for stopping by."
On the one hand, Nancy was upset that Ned was answering for her, without even letting her know or consulting her... at least, that she could remember. Thinking too hard about anything, really, still made her head throb and pound. On the other hand... thinking too hard wasn't really an option in her current condition anyway. She really wasn't going to be any help, even if she wanted to be. And Ned knew that.
"We'd love to see her. Just to tell her we hope she feels better soon."
Ned stood. "Do you know what happened to her?"
Nancy's eyes were closed—she felt exhausted again—but she opened them just enough to make out the three figures, long enough to see the brothers shrug and glance at each other.
Ned made a quiet, frustrated sound. "I'm here," he said. "You're not. You're just here long enough to put her in danger again, and you bring her in because you—" He cut himself off with a rough noise that was close to a self-deprecating snort. "She's not disposable. Not to me. And she shouldn't be to you, either. She wasn't put here to pull your asses out of whatever sling you've managed to get them into. At least let her get back to something close to full power before you force her to turn you down."
"And—" Frank cleared his throat. "How long will that be?"
A split second before it happened, Nancy knew it would—and Ned's fingers closed into a fist. She smiled under the covers. Maybe her brain seemed to be moving underwater, but some knowledge was just bone-deep, and her knowledge of him was that.
"Why don't you call her when the heat death of the universe is in progress," Ned suggested. "Until then, fight your own battles."
The conversation wasn't quite over, but Nancy closed her eyes and drifted off, feeling warm. When her lashes fluttered up again a second later, or what had seemed like a second later, the light was different and Ned was somehow in bed with her.
Damned concussion.
The patio doors were closed. They seemed to be alone.
"Hey," Nancy tried to say, but no sound came out. She cleared her throat, and her next attempt was better. She turned onto her back, then her other side, moaning quietly as she adjusted to the shift in angle.
"Hey," Ned replied. His dark eyes were warm, honest, and so loving. She just gazed into them for the longest time, for a long moment, then nestled against him and drew in the scent of him. As it always did, just that trace of him in her lungs seemed to relax her.
"They came by? Or did I dream that."
Ned tensed slightly; she could feel it. Then he relaxed. "They did."
"You sent them away." The words came out on a sigh.
"You need your rest."
The tone of his voice... it was almost resigned. Like he thought no matter what he said, she wouldn't give herself the time and space she needed to recover.
She reached up, still nestled into him, and caressed his cheek, her thumb tracing the soft skin just under his eye. She stroked it down to his earlobe, drew her fingertips over the short hair at the nape of his neck, and felt him shiver. He turned his head far enough to brush his lips in a soft kiss over the center of her palm.
"I do," she agreed. "Thank you. I'm sorry... you're using up leave for this."
"Hey." His breath was warm on her skin, and she shivered. "A beautiful tropical vacation with a beautiful woman. I should be thanking you..."
"If it weren't... this circumstance."
"Go to the beach with me for a little while tomorrow and I'll try to forgive you."
She smiled, her eyes still closed. "You mean two feet away from our room."
"Exactly. No splashing in the water unless you feel up to it. Just sun and sand and a towel and a tall cool drink."
Her fingertips slid down his neck. He was shirtless, and his skin was so warm. "Speaking of being up to things," she murmured, and opened her eyes again.
He was just so damn beautiful, and he was hers. She had heard so many times how lucky she was to be alive, but all her luck was this, him, and his continued presence in her life despite all the odds and how infuriating she was.
"Really?"
"Gently. Yeah." She smiled. "The least I can do."
Ned made a scoffing sound. "You know how many times I wanted to do this, before? Just whisk you off somewhere and take care of you, until you were better?"
"Before..."
"Yeah. When this would have been all separate beds."
"Mmm. I don't miss that." Her exploring fingertips found the elastic of his underwear and slid beneath. "I love sharing a bed with you."
"Me too." He moved to help her, then slid her panties down an inch before pausing. "This can wait."
She started to shake her head, then realized how foolish that would be. "No. I mean yeah, it can, but only if you don't want to."
"If you start feeling lightheaded..."
"I know the drill." She caressed his cheek as he gazed into her eyes. "Although I'm gonna be a little disappointed if I don't feel at least a little lightheaded..."
Ned grinned. "I'll see what I can do."
Her man didn't do things by half-measures, and while he was gentle, the world still moved beneath them. Somehow, no matter what, whether smooth and slow or fierce and demanding, their joining always seemed to leave her breathless, senseless to all beyond their bed. Her legs were wrapped around him, he was panting against her neck, and every little shift sent another echoed spasm of her climax through her.
"Babe," he murmured. "God."
"Yeah," she agreed, her lashes drifting down. "Perfect. God."
They remained that way until she had nearly fallen asleep again, her hand slowing as she stroked his hair and the damp skin of his back.
"I'm sorry if I went too far."
"About," she murmured, too tired to even inflect it as a question. "Baby, you know you fit perfect."
He chuckled, a soft vibration against her. "With those two idiots."
She nuzzled against him. "You're perfect," she whispered, her breath warm on his neck. "'Heat death of the universe.'"
"'When hell freezes over' seemed too over the top."
"Leave them with some sliver of hope. That's my man."
"And don't you forget it." Slowly he moved so they were both on their sides, still tangled together. "I've always known you could take care of yourself. It's just that I don't trust anyone else."
She cuddled against him. "Back at you," she whispered. "Thanks... for never leaving me."
He brushed kisses over her brow, her temple, her ear. "When I make a vow," he murmured, his warm breath sending another delicious shiver down her spine, "I mean it."
And Nancy let herself drift off, content and safe in her husband's arms.