premonition

Nancy sat up in bed, her cheeks wet with tears. For a moment she panted, trying to calm herself down and catch her breath.

Ned had broken up with her.

Hadn't he?

"Oh God," she whispered, slumping, her hand pressed against her chest. "Oh God. Just a dream."

Nightmare, more like. It had been a nightmare.

Granted, last night hadn't been great either. Ned had told her that he was tired, he was going back to the Omega house, and he hadn't wanted any company. Finding out about his best friend's involvement in the gambling scheme had to be devastating, and... well, Nancy had wanted to be there for him, despite...

He'd just been so stubborn. Even after everything, he'd refused to see what was right in front of him. And Nancy had been bewildered. She had always thought Ned was rational, reasonable—that the only times he became irrational, unreasonable, were when he was afraid for her and for her own safety.

But Mike was Ned's best friend, and... well, she hadn't been prepared for how vehemently Ned would defend him. How protective he would be, how willing to make excuses. And, a small part of her admitted... she had been jealous. Ned was supposed to be that way about her, with her. Not with Mike. If it came down to her and anyone else, she had always expected Ned to take her side, have her back, especially if no family members were involved.

As she tried to calm down and recenter herself, Nancy sighed, wiping her wet cheeks with her palms. Of course her dream had focused on Ned's feelings of betrayal, and though she could only remember some of it—thankfully, it was beginning to evaporate even now—she did remember that cold, apologetic but firm, version of him telling her that he couldn't support her, because she wouldn't let him. That she was so independent and she didn't truly need him, and this case had only proven that.

She settled back down onto her pillow and stared off into the cold moonlight, considering.

It was fair. Dream-Ned did have a point, even if he'd never brought it up while they were actually together. When he bought her jewelry, she smiled and thanked him, and that was as far as it went; most pieces, she didn't make a point to wear around him, so they just languished on her dresser. She didn't insist that Ned accompany her on cases; while she did love his being there, she became very focused, and sometimes ended up neglecting him so much that his presence became a distraction.

And that was somehow worse here, at Emerson. To be sidelined in this place that was basically his second home, and to solve a mystery that, no matter what, was going to implicate someone on his team, someone he trusted and cared about.

Nancy sighed. She should never have taken the case, but how could she have said no? She had only imagined it as a way to spend time with him, just quickly investigating a few pranks pulled by some culprit with a mean streak first. Not this. Never this.

Her stomach in knots, she turned onto her side. She wanted to be home, in her own bed, away from this, and that broke her heart. She had always loved seeing Ned, but this had turned into...

Well. A genuine, complete nightmare. And she hated that.

She sniffled and squeezed her eyes tight shut, trying to keep herself from crying and waking anyone else up. The last thing she wanted was to talk about this.

Before this, Ned was the one she would have talked to about this: her frustrations on the case, the attempts on her life, the exhilaration at solving the case that had been undercut by how many lives, careers, had been damaged or ruined.

But not by her! Nancy almost choked in frustration. Her involvement hadn't changed the truth; it had only exposed it. In the dream, she could remember Ned accusing her of being harsh, of not understanding. Of driving Mike to a place where he would be hurt instead of working with him. Instead of trusting Ned to talk to his friend, she had just plowed ahead.

Instead of trusting Ned and his judgement, she had pushed Ned away.

She frowned and buried her head in the pillow to stifle her rapid breathing, then gave up with a quiet huff. She had taken a walk last night to clear her head, and Bess and George had understood. No one could mistake the obvious tension between Nancy and Ned; it was just that this time, it was as far from flirtatious as they could get. Cold, sarcastic, bitter, lost.

Maybe Ned did need time, to just clear his head, to grieve what had been lost, what the team could have had.

But she would see him again before they left Emerson, and if her subconscious was giving her a warning, she wanted to heed it. She didn't want to leave everything between them so damaged.

The cold air was a shock, once she was outside the dorm, but she had bundled up and just snuggled deeper into her coat. After her experience in the sauna, she had done as much layering as she could. A cami, button-down, sweater, and warmly-lined jacket probably didn't also need long underwear. Probably.

Her cheeks and chin nestled into a warm cashmere scarf and her knit cap pulled low over her brow, Nancy wandered the predawn campus, her jacket sleeves carefully pulled over the cuffs of her gloves to keep her hands from freezing, her toes curling in anticipation when she saw the refreezing slush of old snow piled high on the sidewalks. She had toured Emerson with Ned, forever ago, when he was narrowing down his college options. She felt like he'd been here for decades now.

Maybe because, when they were apart... he was living his life, taking classes, winning games, working toward his degree and his future, being himself. And Nancy... well, unless she found a position with one of her father's friends, who understood what was shaping up to be a wildly inconsistent résumé with so little practical work experience it would be laughable, the more time she took to "find herself," the less she would be able to find.

The wind shifted directions, blowing a fine rain of what felt like ice powder into her eyes and lashes, and she teared up, slowing her steps as she blinked hard.

Maybe it was cute for him to have a jet-setting girlfriend whose experiences were always fun to discuss at parties. Or maybe it had been, and now that was growing thin.

Nancy grunted in frustration, picking up the pace. She didn't need him. A part of her swore she would be damned if she changed any part of herself to assuage his ego, or to soften herself, to make herself more feminine, to contrast all the more with his unmistakeable masculinity. To give him a job to do, to let him take the lead? That wasn't who she was, and she hadn't thought that was who he was, either.

And what would he have done, huh? Assumed Mike had nothing to do with it, that his teammates were all above suspicion and reproach, and let himself be hurt when Riggs needed a few more points shaved?

Nancy brought herself to an abrupt halt and took a few deep breaths. Getting mad at him about the choices he'd made had brought them here. Suspecting that he might have been involved at all... well, that was when she should have rethought what she was doing.

Ned wasn't perfect, and Nancy knew that. But something had come between them, making her doubt her judgement, making her doubt him. Maybe his confrontational attitude had been part of it. Maybe he had been trying to pick a fight with her... to give himself a reason to break up with her. Maybe her subconscious hadn't so much put the pieces together as let her know the catastrophe was imminent.

Well. Did she want to see what her life would be like, without Ned?

She tried as much as she could to detach herself from the instant fluttering in her stomach, the deeply sick feeling in her heart. She tried to imagine being free to act on the attraction she felt to other guys, and knowing that here, Ned wouldn't even need to work hard to find someone else.

That reminded her, and she closed her eyes tightly, slowing to a stop again. He had told her about the girl, that first week after he'd moved into the Omega house, once he'd joined the fraternity. He'd sworn it was so little he'd debated even mentioning it; he'd sworn that he had never done anything like it since, would never do anything like it again.

And she knew from experience how very hollow that promise could be.

He met someone else, again.

And as soon as the words formed in her mind, she was convinced of the truth of them. It felt right. It felt like it explained so much.

So why hadn't he just told her? Did he feel like he was on the hook because his coach had invited her out here, basically, and he didn't want to upset his coach, but he had also been unprepared for the... the shock of seeing her again, without having figured out how to break it to her?

This time, she was glad of the wind that shifted and could explain her tears. They soaked into the cashmere scarf, and Nancy felt sick at heart, sick for being so naive, for not picking up on his cues. At least her stupid nightmare had spared her that, hearing him say "We should see other people... and, in fact, I've already started."

And if he had, in fact, been cheating on her... then fuck his feelings, his hurt pride, his posturing. On her cases, it was different; she met them, and then they were gone, a few days or a week later. She didn't keep in touch with them. She didn't think about them again. Here... oh, the temptation had to be both strong and constant, but he actually could start a relationship with someone else. Nancy... well, she was gone so much that...

That no one in his right mind would actually choose a relationship with her.

The righteous anger that had puffed her up, temporarily borne her aloft, above the sickened weight of her sudden certainty, deflated just as quickly. He'd be a fool not to consider dating someone else. Dating her had to be—well, she didn't know, but something close to impossible. Graduate-level, even. She and Ned didn't have years of close daily contact behind them; they had attended different high schools, and now he was hours away from her for most of the year, during the brief windows of time she was home. A relationship with almost anyone else would be easier.

He should have told me, she thought, and another pair of hot, fat tears slipped down her cheeks.

God. She had thought her nightmare was bad, but waking to this was infinitely worse.

On autopilot, her steps had taken her where they always had, at this place that she'd been unsure about when he had first shown her: the Omega Chi house. A fraternity? she had asked, her fears nebulous but long-standing. She wasn't sure what, exactly, took place behind those walls, only that she shouldn't approve. Ned had reassured her. Of course he wouldn't be tempted by the parties, the groupies, the lifestyle. Of course.

And maybe he hadn't been, after that one time; she didn't know. But she was also sure that she wanted to rip this bandage off. They could make a clean break of it, she could hit the road before breakfast, and—

Oh God. Talking to Bess and George about this for four hours, she would do almost anything to avoid. Even if it involved flat-out lying to them about the state of her and Ned's relationship until she was safely home and could pretend their phone connection had somehow been interrupted right after she admitted it.

She looked up at the Omega house with wide, tear-stung eyes. Would this be the last time she walked in?

Could it really be over, like this?

Her heart quailed. She could just slink away, wait for him to call her, but that was almost worse. How long would it be, before he called? Before he even considered calling? How long would she remain in limbo?

She wanted to fight for him, for what they had together, but after this case, she was just so, so tired. And her misery was draining her, but she was also incredibly sad that it would be easier for her to just walk away, that anything felt easier than this.

The dawn was just beginning to break, and Nancy didn't recognize the guy who answered the door, but he didn't question her request to visit Ned. That felt ominous, too. How many other girls had done this?

The door of Ned's room was unlocked. Nancy's throat ached, and it felt almost impossible to turn the knob and push his door open. But she managed it, blinking against the thick darkness until her eyes adjusted enough to make out the vague gray-on-black of his silhouette.

He was in his bed, facing away from her, with one arm draped over—

a shape beside him.

Nancy gasped. She hadn't thought her heart could hurt more, but it did.

She had just taken the tiniest step, preparing to turn on her heel and leave as quickly as possible, when Ned released a sound somewhere between a gravelly grunt and a sigh, then raised his head slightly and turned it toward her.

And the shift in the light—

It was a pillow. He was cuddled up to a pillow.

"Nan?"

"Hey," she sighed. The sudden fall of adrenaline had her jittery, almost high. "Sorry."

Ned grunted again. "Shut the door," he muttered, dropping his head to the pillow again.

Just because he wasn't in bed with someone right now, that didn't mean he wasn't seeing someone else, and it didn't solve their problems. But she took a step forward and closed the door behind her anyway, feeling oddly vulnerable, almost as though she were the other woman, the kind of girl who would be alone with a guy in his fraternity house bedroom.

Which she was, but...

Ned grunted again. His eyes were closed. "'s up," he muttered.

"Late night?"

"Yeah."

Nancy tugged her gloves off and tucked them into her pockets, then unzipped her jacket. She wasn't sure what to say, so she just took a deep breath and opened her mouth, hoping that she'd somehow settle on the right thing.

"Are you about to break up with me?"

Ned was quiet, and for a second she was sure he had fallen asleep again. Then he rolled onto his back and groaned.

"I don't know," he admitted, sounding marginally more awake, though his voice was still gravelly. "I don't know what to do. Hence two hours of sleep." He scrubbed his palms over his face and sighed.

She took another step forward, a small one. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry," she said.

"For what?"

Her stomach sank, and her gaze dropped to his desk, all suggestions of light and shadow. The house around them was so quiet, and the weight of it was both immense and freeing.

What was she sorry about? Anything?

"That this turned out nothing like I thought it would," she said, slowly. "I thought this would be a good excuse to see you and spend time with you, but it didn't turn out that way. I've felt like—like you didn't want me here from the moment I arrived."

Ned sat up, fixing her with his dark-eyed gaze. The lighting was so dim, and maybe it was her wishful thinking, but he didn't look quite as cold and angry as he had. He just looked... tired.

"Are you... seeing someone else?" She swallowed. "Other... people?"

He snorted. "I've been eating, sleeping, breathing, dreaming basketball," he replied. "There was so much riding on this season. Now..." He released an explosive, disgusted sigh. "Now that's done. So much is just... done. I've been an asshole, and I really am sorry about that. It's no excuse."

Her heart melted, and she gave him a small smile as she took another step. "I should have trusted you more," she replied. "You were right about that."

He ran his hand through his hair. "I can't imagine—no, I can," he corrected himself. "Mike's alive. We're all alive. Things could have been worse. But not much worse."

"True."

Ned covered his face and just breathed for a moment, until Nancy thought he had fallen asleep again. Then he coughed and lowered his hands.

"I had a—well, a nightmare," she said. "And it got me thinking. I... I know it would be easier for you to date anyone else. And... if you were seeing someone else... it would have explained things."

Ned sighed. "Could I be seeing someone else, really, really damn easily? Yeah." His casual profanity was making her stomach lurch, but she thought that maybe because he was so tired, at least he was being honest with her. "I haven't been. I'm so... God. I'm so tired." He glanced over at his alarm clock and scrubbed his palm against his face again. "C'mere."

Nancy raised her eyebrows, her heart rising into her throat as he shoved aside the pillow that she had mistaken for someone else in his bed and patted the mattress. Ned was barechested, and she had gone swimming with him before, but this...

He'd seen her in a bikini. What made this so different?

Everything, she knew. Everything was different.

After a visit that had felt like he was keeping her at arm's length, preparing her for a decision that was going to significantly change their relationship, this felt like whiplash.

Ned saw her hesitation and gave her a small smile. "I'm tired," he said. "There's no one like you. I think we can find a way through this, but let's do it after a few hours of sleep and a lot of coffee." He yawned hugely, then patted the bed beside him. "I'll be good."

Nancy briefly pressed her lips together, then slowly took her jacket off. She took off her shoes and socks, then paused before tugging off her sweater, slowly unbuttoning the shirt beneath. By the time she had stripped down to her cami and underwear—both more and less than she normally wore around him while swimming—he seemed to be asleep again.

And Nancy's heart was pounding. She looked down at her underwear and her long, bare legs, and blushed. She felt like she needed to leave, to hastily dress again, to go back to her usual room. He wasn't fully awake; he hadn't meant what she thought he did.

He grumbled quietly. "C'mon," he muttered, shifting in the bed. "Not gon' bite."

Nancy swallowed and went over to Ned's bed, to the far side. She grasped the covers, her lips trembling in time with the pounding of her heart, when Ned muttered something profane and reached beside the bed, picking up his underwear. He wriggled some under the covers, then settled down again.

"Sorry. Forgot."

So he had been naked when she'd walked in. Naked and alone in his bed. And now, he was still close to naked.

She felt the utter absurdity of it, as she moved under the covers. Ned murmured in something like contentment as they drew close, as she nestled against him and he draped his arm over her. Her awareness of his skin, the intimacy of being under the covers...

She thought there was no way she could sleep, as keyed up as she was, as much of an emotional roller coaster as the night, the week, had been, but she blinked and drifted away.

She woke to Ned's voice, gravelly with sleep again. "Shit," he breathed.

Nancy could count on her fingers the number of times she had heard Ned curse; either his exhaustion was total, or his usual filters were still down. She blinked, reaching up to rub sleep out of her eyes, and found herself moving at the same time Ned did.

His front was pressed up against hers, and he was—

She gasped, looking into his eyes, and saw him flinch. "Sorry, sorry," he muttered, rolling away from her.

She watched him go, still speechless, as an unmistakeable blush swept up her chest and over her cheeks. She had never slept with a man before; maybe that was... customary? Maybe it was no commentary on her, just...

By the time Ned had returned, she had put the button-down back on, but hadn't bothered actually buttoning it. She was looking around his room, which wasn't quite a mess, but it wasn't tidy either. Like he'd said, basketball had swallowed his life recently. His textbooks were stacked haphazardly on his desk, his laundry hamper was overflowing, and his shoes had taken over an entire corner of his room.

Ned cleared his throat. "Sorry," he said again.

Their gazes met. While Nancy could feel herself blushing again, it only barely touched her cheeks. She was in his bed, half-dressed, looking up at him. By any other metric, this would have to be a dream. This would have to be the dream.

And that spark, the spark she hadn't often felt during this trip, kindled in her, a bright glow in her belly, warm between her ribs.

"Hey," she said softly.

His lips turned up in a small smile, and he sat down on the bed, beside her. "Want to get some breakfast?"

She nodded. "I vaguely remember something about coffee."

"All of it," he groaned. "I haven't had a hangover like this in a while."

"Did you drink last night?" She wasn't sure what she would have done if someone had offered her a drink last night, but she definitely would have considered it. She'd felt like she was at a breaking point, and that damned nightmare hadn't helped.

He shrugged and nodded. "Wasn't in a great place last night," he admitted. His gaze had shied away from hers, and he rubbed the heel of his hand over his stubbled jaw. "I don't think I've said it enough. I'm sorry, Nan. Sorry it worked out this way."

"Me too," she said. Then she smiled. "But we still have some time."

"Yeah." He offered her his hand, and though he did avert his gaze once she had slid out from beneath the covers, it wasn't immediately.

On their way out, her heart still stuttering a bit every time her fingers brushed Ned's or their gazes held, Nancy called Bess and George just to let them know where she was and that she was all right. When Bess heard that Nancy and Ned were having breakfast together so they could "talk," she made a knowing, sympathetic sound. "Oh, sweetie. Say the word and I'll stock up on ice cream and junk food so we can talk it out."

Last night, that would have made her feel sick, like it was so obvious even Bess and George could tell what was going on. Now, though, she felt hope. "I don't think it's going to come to that," she said quietly. "But thanks."

They went to a diner just off campus, one that was frequented by Emerson students; several of them talked to Ned, asking how he was doing, expressing their frustration, condolences, anger over their limited understanding of what had happened. Ned looked infinitely tired, but he bore it all well; even so, as they slid into their booth, he buried his head in his hands for a moment.

Nancy reached across the table and touched his arm. "I am sorry. None of you deserved any of this."

"I know," he replied, his voice muffled. Then he sighed and brought his head up again. "Well, a couple of people deserved to be arrested. All of the rest of it..." He shook his head, his jaw set.

The waiter arrived just then, and Nancy saw his face light up in recognition, but he quickly stifled it. "Coffee?"

"A pot," Ned replied. Then he looked over at Nancy. "Two pots."

Nancy chuckled. "We'll start with that."

"And then, for me, the complete."

The waiter's eyes widened very, very briefly. Nancy started searching the menu, curious about what that meant.

"Waffle?"

"Pecan."

"With cinnamon butter?"

"Yes. Of course."

"Pancakes?"

"Blueberry buttermilk. Three."

"Eggs?"

"Three, over easy. Three strips of bacon."

Nancy's eyes widened. She wasn't sure what wasn't part of his meal.

The waiter finished making his notations. "And you?"

"Uh..." Nancy shrugged and closed her menu. "Three blueberry buttermilk pancakes and a side of strawberries."

As soon as their coffee pot arrived, Ned poured himself a mug, stirred in some sugar, and took a hesitant sip. He closed his eyes as it hit him.

Nancy finished stirring hers, but decided it was still too hot. She toyed with the paper band that had been wrapped around her silverware as she watched Ned perk up.

"Better?"

He nodded and sighed. "This has been one of the—no, I'm gonna own it. One of the worst weeks of my life."

"Mine too."

He gave her a brief smile. "Feels like I'm waking up from... something that I'd thought would be incredible, Nan. Going to the playoffs. The championship. All of it. All of it, just..." He made a negating gesture, an impatient flick of his hand. "And I just... I saw Mike and everything he could have had, and I just wholeheartedly wanted that for him. His last season. Scouts, going pro... and he's incredible, and to see him... to hear the doctor say that yeah, he'd probably be able to walk again, I don't know..." Ned set his jaw and glanced away, and Nancy waited a beat before she reached for his hand again. He accepted it, and just being able to lace her fingers through his made Nancy's heart so, so very light.

"If I could..."

Ned searched her eyes as she tried to find the right words; then he slowly shook his head. "What's done is done," he said quietly. "I spent a lot of time last night grieving it. Raging at it, about it."

"You were right, though. I could have handled things differently."

"And you were right. He wasn't innocent in all this. I wanted to believe that he was, that he would never betray us." He shook his head, his nostrils flaring. "We have to trust each other out there. And actually seeing it fall apart this way is like a gut-punch. And Riggs?" Ned shook his head in disgust again.

"I know that's awful."

"It's all, just... a waste."

At that moment, the waiter arrived and slid their plates of pancakes in front of them. Ned immediately drizzled his in warmed syrup, with a decidedly hungry gleam in his eyes. He descended on the plate with the appetite of a person who hadn't eaten in three days.

Nancy didn't interrupt him until he had slowed slightly, with half his pancakes put away and a second cup of coffee poured. "You seem more like yourself," she said, gently.

He paused and swallowed a bite of pancake. "I feel more like myself," he admitted. "I was just so, so angry, and tense... it feels like I'm really waking up now. I don't know how to explain it."

Nancy paused, her next bite aloft but not yet in her mouth. "Uh..."

"Hmm?" Ned speared another bite. "Out with it, Drew."

"I'm just... it's just an idea, I don't know..."

Ned arched a brow.

She snickered. At least he felt more familiar now, less like the stranger he had been for almost all of her visit. "This is probably crazy, but given everything else Dr. Riggs was doing, is it completely off the wall to think he might have been... I don't know, giving some of the players something to... influence their moods?"

"Make us more aggressive?"

Nancy nodded hesitantly.

Ned's gaze veered off, and she could see him actually considering it. She'd expected him to dismiss it outright.

"It... Considering what he was trying to do..."

"Son of a bitch," he said, with such furious vehemence in his voice that the people at the tables around them turned to look at Nancy and Ned. "Son of a bitch!"

For a split-second she considered shushing him, but she settled on an apologetic look.

Ned ran his hand through his hair, his gaze darting back to her. "Nan, he gave us supplements," he said. "And he was our doctor! Shit! He... he probably did. Do you understand..."

"It would jeopardize everything, wouldn't it?"

He nodded vigorously. "We can be drug-tested at any time. Any irregularities, and any prospect of a career basically vanishes. This is going to be bad enough. Next season, whoever plays—we'll be scrutinized. But... fuck!"

Nancy touched his hand again.

"I thought it was just the stress," Ned said rapidly. "I've been so irritable, so..."

Nancy nodded. Oh, she had seen the change in him, and she hadn't understood it either.

He shook his head. "I... this... I just can't believe this. But it makes sense. And it..." His gaze became almost pleading. "Maybe it goes a little way toward explaining why Mike..."

Nancy nodded again. It was plausible. All of it was too, too plausible.

Ned looked down at his plate, then slowly forked up another bite of pancake.

"Please tell me I didn't just ruin your appetite."

Ned snorted. "If anything, I'm gonna need all this fuel for the fight I'm about to have," he replied.

A knot in her stomach slowly began to loosen. The change in him had felt vicious, cold, like a complete one-eighty from the Ned she knew and loved. The man in front of her was closer to who he had been.

Ned laced his fingers between hers. "Last night, I... I thought about what life would be like without you. Like you said, yeah, it would be easier. But I also don't know any other person who would have done what you did. You figured out what was going on and you didn't give up, even when you could have. Even when I was being—" He shook his head. "A total asshole to you."

She smiled sadly. "It wasn't you," she said softly. "It just... didn't feel like you."

"And it wasn't." He searched her eyes again. "I don't know how to make this up to you, if it's even in my power to..."

She squeezed his hand. "It wasn't your fault," she replied. "It's not your fault to make up. I mean, yeah, if someone decided to look the other way while I punched Dr. Riggs..."

Ned snickered. "You'd have to get in line." He swirled the last bite of pancake in syrup and popped it into his mouth. "It does feel like I... I was so stressed and upset that I wasn't thinking clearly. I know I wasn't, not when it came to you."

"And seeing you like a stranger... I didn't like that. Not at all."

"I can imagine."

He smiled at her, and their gazes held again. She studied him, finding all that was familiar, finding all the softness, the tenderness. The cold, bitter anger was gone.

"Let's make the most of the rest of this trip," she suggested.

Ned sighed happily as his pancake plate was cleared, to be replaced by two more plates, and Nancy smiled her thanks at the waiter for delivering her strawberries. "After this epic breakfast, what did you have in mind?" He dragged his knife through the cinnamon butter, spreading it over his pecan waffle. "I have a lot to make up to you, after all."

"Well..." She tapped her chin. "No drinking tonight. Maybe a movie, something romantic."

Ned nodded in agreement.

"And..." Her heart skipped another beat, but she continued. "Maybe I could find out what it's like to spend the entire night, uh... at the Omega house."

A warm, delighted grin spread across Ned's face. "Oh really," he replied. "Well, I'll definitely take that into consideration. We'd have to find somewhere for you to sleep."

"Definitely." She hoped the slight tremor in her hand wasn't visible as she propped her chin on it. "Somewhere warm."

"And, given how little time we've really been able to spend together..." He took her hand again. "I'll just have to volunteer my room."

"If you must." She giggled, her eyes sparkling.

He was back. He was back, and the relief had tears springing to her eyes.

And, against all the odds, this case hadn't broken them. She knew it had come close, but they had found the other side of it. And more.

He raised her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss against her knuckles. "I love you, Nancy Drew," he replied. "May neither of us ever forget it."

"And I love you," she replied, with a slow, sweet smile. "I'm so glad you're back."

"Hey babe."

"Hi sweetheart." Nancy pressed her cheek against the phone, sandwiching it against her shoulder, then shook her head with a disgusted sigh. "Yeah, I need to be concentrating for that. What's up?"

"What did I catch you in the middle of..."

"Leveling a cake layer."

Ned paused, and Nancy chuckled. "Which of course you're welcome to taste the the next time you're here, but I doubt that's why you were calling."

"Pssh. Now it's exactly why I'm calling." He grunted quietly, probably settling into a chair. "So... I'm going to be house-sitting next week."

"Oh?" Nancy's heart started beating harder. She was almost sure what that meant.

"Yeah, and I'm... easily spooked, or... anyway. Want to come over to my parents' house? My parents have ballet tickets."

Nancy gasped. "Katya Alexandrovna?"

"Wha... You know her? You have tickets too?"

"Oh my God, I wish." Nancy did a little twirl. "I love her. She's fantastic."

"...Oh."

Nancy laughed. "It's okay. Hannah and I were going to watch it together, but I'm sure she'll record it for me."

"Oh, I'll be recording it too. For my parents."

Nancy's brow furrowed. "I...?"

Ned sighed. "So my... second cousin Belinda is in the show. My parents were able to get tickets just based on that. Like my entire extended family is going to be there to support her."

"Except you," Nancy pointed out, after a beat.

"Yeah. She's always been... a snotty, entitled brat?"

Nancy released a startled chuckle. "No, really, you two have a great relationship."

"We tolerate each other," Ned replied. "She's about a year younger than me, so there was a lot of 'go play with your cousin' and having to get along. I almost shoved her out of a treehouse when we were like five."

"That sounds very unlike you."

"It was an accident. A snake had gotten into the treehouse. She darted the wrong way."

"Ah. That sounds more like it."

"Yeah. She went crying to her parents. Things were never quite the same after that."

"So you two are eternal enemies, huh."

"Eh. Not really. Just... I'm not sure we could be more different. Anyway. Would you... want to come over?"

"I'd love to. And maybe we could actually watch some of the show..." Nancy trailed off as she realized Ned hadn't actually said what she thought he was implying.

Ned chuckled. "Sure we could. You know, just to make sure it's recording. And... we could... have some popcorn."

Nancy laughed, but she did glance at the doorway, too. "It's a date," she told Ned. "I can't wait to watch the ballet with you."

After a beat, Ned said, "Ah. Afraid of being overheard?"

"Maybe."

He lowered his voice. "I can't wait to get back to Emerson," he said. "I can't wait until we don't have to steal an hour or two to be together. Every night I'm here, and you know I love my parents—I miss you. In every, every possible way."

Nancy ducked her head, placing the back of her unoccupied hand against her now-flaming cheek. "I miss you too," she said, aiming for something close to normal, but her voice came out almost strangled.

"I might, might, start trying to strip your clothes off as soon as you walk in."

She smiled, aware that her cheeks were still blazing. "Promise?"

--

Ned glanced around. Technically he had invited Nancy over for dinner, and his mother had made a loaf of crusty bread and a pot of equally hearty soup. His parents had departed about thirty minutes ago, and Ned had rushed upstairs to finish his last few preparations before Nancy arrived. The kitchen, even though it was the first thing Nancy would see when she walked in, felt almost like an afterthought.

And that was probably a mistake, a very small part of his brain interjected. He and Nancy were moving slowly toward a significant change in their relationship, beyond the seismic shift that that awful span of days had caused between them. Sometimes he was still shocked, awestruck, that they hadn't broken up. They had felt so, so terribly close to it.

Maybe, if he'd never discovered the extent of Dr. Riggs's machinations, they actually would have, and that thought made him sick. Dr. Riggs had just smiled and folded his hands and said nothing when asked about drugging Ned and his teammates, and Ned, in return, had wanted to punch that smug smile right off his face. His life had been imploding right in front of him, all to help line the doctor's pockets. His relationship with Nancy had been left hanging by a thread.

And against the odds, they had managed to sew it back together.

Now...

He knew what it was like to sleep beside her. He knew what it was to wake up with her, to hold her in his arms while they relaxed—and to feel her bare skin warm under his palm in those few heady seconds before she remembered herself and started pulling back. She was eager, her refusals were reluctant, but the second she expressed any misgivings or doubt, he immediately pulled back too.

He burned for her, but that was nothing new. He had burned for her for a long time. Seeing her gaze at him from beneath lowered lashes, that gaze flicking down to his lips and then back to his eyes... and feeling her soft and breathless under him, his hand under her borrowed shirt, warm brushed cotton, the inviting yield of it as her fingers slid into his hair and she returned his kiss just as eagerly...

Ned returned to himself and gasped in a breath. He needed to get a grip. For all he knew, they would just be fooling around again tonight, with no new progress—but even that felt deliciously excessive.

The doorbell rang, and Ned gave himself one last check—yep, fully dressed, fly zipped, hair smoothed—and opened the door.

Snow blanketed the yard, and more was falling now; traitorously, Ned hoped it would keep his parents in the city and Nancy in his arms. A solid wave of the cold wind hit him as soon as the door was open.

And she was standing there, bundled into a black snow jacket, the hood trimmed in faux fur. She grinned when their gazes met, and her blue eyes were sparkling.

"Ready for an evening of ballet, Ned?"

He stepped back, inviting her in with a sweeping gesture. "Can't wait," he said, without a hint of sarcasm. He would have endured the actual show, for her, sitting in the audience wearing an uncomfortable suit and bored to tears, for as long as their fingers could be interlaced and he could see her avid, fascinated gaze.

"Mmm," she moaned, shivering once more before she tugged off her gloves and unzipped her coat. Underneath, she wore a ridiculously soft-looking sweater in a dark turquoise-black that draped over her curves invitingly, a pair of black jeans that fit her like a second skin, and sherpa-lined boots.

"The soup's on the stove." He reached for her hand, and found her fingers chilly in his grip. "I'd offer to warm you up myself, but..."

"Why not both?" She grinned as she accompanied him.

Nancy rhapsodized over the soup and bread, and Ned glowed with vicarious pride. He finished off two bowls by himself, despite his simmering nervousness, while she declared herself stuffed after one. He took their bowls to the kitchen, returning with warm plates of apple crumble topped with vanilla ice cream—if she was still stuffed, he had no problem finishing off most of it—to find her with her legs tucked under her on the couch, her boots on the floor.

"Hope this is okay."

"Of course. I want you to be comfortable." In every sense, he silently added.

She shot him another of her brilliant smiles. "And what is this?"

"Dessert."

She closed her eyes and moaned quietly at the first bite, and Ned swallowed, averting his gaze. Seeing her so close to orgasmic was dangerous. "Oh, this is incredible," she crooned. "I need to send your mom a thank-you note."

Ned laughed. "Please don't set that precedent. Within a month I'll owe Hannah a small pony."

Nancy pointed her fork at him. "A small waterfront tract of land in the UK," she declared. "I've seen you practically put away half a chocolate cake all by yourself."

"Hey. It's not my fault that she absolutely kills at baking chocolate cakes."

"Or anything, really." Nancy chuckled as she dragged another bite through the softening ice cream. "Between Hannah and Edith, we are very, very lucky."

Nancy cried off a few bites later, and Ned truly was stuffed when he carried their plates back to the kitchen. He returned to find Nancy nestled under the blanket his mother had left draped over the arm of the couch, watching the ballet, her lips softly parted.

Moving quietly, Ned just gazed at her. She was so gorgeous. The color of the sweater set off her eyes and her hair, and her skin glowed.

He gently settled on the couch beside her, and when he slid his arm around her waist, she moved to nestle against him. Slowly they reclined until she was draped over him, and he had to chuckle when he felt her tense and relax in time with the dancers' motions on the screen.

"Ballerina Nancy," he murmured.

"She's incredible," Nancy murmured, and Ned knew she wasn't referring to Belinda. He did grudgingly admit that Belinda was a great dancer, but the older, more experienced one was doing incredible work. He vaguely remembered some hushed, gushing voice announcing something about a famous diamond.

But Nancy was draped across him. Ned wasn't able to think about much beyond that.

He couldn't say for sure, but it took about thirty seconds before his hand made its way to her hip, then slid under the hem of her sweater. She drew a quick, sharp breath, flinching as his fingertips drifted over sensitized skin, and then she was releasing a soft moan as he drew lazy spirals over her belly.

It might have been thirty seconds after that when she shifted and pressed her mouth to his.

Their kiss was hungry and frantic, almost startlingly so. Ned responded eagerly, sliding both arms around her and drawing his fingertips up her spine, touching the closure of her bra. Her hips shifted and Ned groaned as she sighed, as she pressed directly against his erection.

"I've missed this," she gasped against his ear after she broke their kiss.

Ned's cock throbbed, and his heart skipped a beat as he unfastened her bra. "Me too," he murmured.

"Mmm." She kissed him again, shivering as he pushed her bra up above her breasts.

"Can I..."

She pushed herself up and Ned gazed at her, her flushed cheeks and starry eyes, and watched her tug her sweater over her head and shrug her bra off. "They won't," she muttered, glancing at the door, but Ned couldn't look away from her bare chest.

And then she glanced back at the TV screen.

"Oh my God."

It took a minute for Ned to even register what was happening. Nancy wriggled her hips, and then he realized she was moving away from him, not inviting more. Then she covered her breasts with her arm, and it was like a spell had been broken.

"Mmm?"

"Look. Over there, Nickerson."

Ned pushed himself up slightly and glanced over at the TV screen.

"And, yes—the Rajah Diamond has vanished. The audience is shocked, and it appears that Miss Alexandrovna will not be able to complete the performance due to injury she sustained during this incredibly brazen robbery."

"Fuck," Ned muttered.

"I know!" Nancy replied, shaking her head. "I really need to see the playback. Maybe the recording caught something...?"

Ned ran his fingers through his hair. "Well, we can hope that they're stopping to talk to Belinda before they head home..."

Nancy glanced down at Ned with wide, sparkling eyes. "Ned," she cooed.

"Oh God."

She traced a finger in a meandering line down his chest. "Belinda's your cousin," she mused aloud, her voice bright with false innocence.

Ned sighed. "Yeah..."

"And... I think she was on stage when the theft happened?"

"I guess."

"So she's probably a suspect."

"Maybe." Ned narrowed his eyes.

"And I'm sure you want to help me clear her name."

Ned grunted in protest. "Baby..."

She held up her hand and started ticking off her fingers. "One, I get to meet Katya Alexandrovna," she said. "Two, we get to spend time together. Three, time together that is... unsupervised."

Ned's brow cleared. "I question your ranking, but I do think our only choice is to see if she wants your help."

Nancy nodded, grinning hugely. "It's a win-win, really," she said, leaning down to kiss him, and shivering as he cupped her bare breast. "Plus, more of this..."

"Lots more," he agreed before kissing her again. "I'm sure—" kiss "—we can find—" kiss "—some empty—"

During the kiss that followed, Ned completely lost his train of thought. She was arching against him, moaning, as he unfastened her fly and cupped her ass.

"And what?" she gasped as he tried to peel her pants down.

Ned blinked. "I... something about lots of empty rooms at the ballet theatre."

She grinned. "There better be."