Work Text:
DESERT ROSE
(my fancast for IRL Dylan was Will Payne. And this was not exactly Beta-ed so plz be forgiving of any mistakes and typos.)
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Nancy seems to trade one dry, distant world for another when she steps into the hospital. With people speaking a language she doesn’t understand, she finds herself missing the hieroglyphs in the tomb. She could at least decode some of those. But language barriers notwithstanding, Nancy is glad to be amongst the living once again. She traded the smell of musty, dry air of the tomb for the sanitized and sterile environment of healthcare.
“Excuse me,” she begins stepping up to the counter. She hopes that they will understand her. “I’m looking for Dylan Carter?”
“Name?”
“Nancy Drew.”
Nancy watches the person nod, as if that was the correct thing to say. Nancy gets the impression that they might have been waiting for her. She waits patiently as the person types away at the keyword, searching the hospital database.
“Room 256.”
“Thank you.”
The person behind the counter just nods with a smile.
Nancy gently bumps her fists against the hard surface of the counter before setting off for the elevator. It’s a short trip, but Nancy’s mind still wonders. They found Nefatari. Finding the Lost Queen had costs, though. Abdullah. Lily. Jamila. Joe. Dylan…All their lives would now be irreversibly changed. For better or for worse, they would change.
Nancy shakes her head when the elevator pings, announcing arrival to the second floor. She hesitantly steps out of the box, unsure of which way to go. Her insecurity lifts when she spots a sign in front of her with room numbers and arrows.
“256, right? That’s that way,” Nancy tells herself, pointing down the right hall. “Alright, then,” she says as she makes her way right. She counts the room numbers as she goes, mindful of the busybodies buzzing around the hallways.
There it is. There is no window in the door, so Nancy cannot see inside to see if he’s decent, so she just knocks on the door.
“Come on in,” his muffle voice comes from the other side of the door.
Nancy has to take a deep breath as she reaches forward to grab the handle. She doesn’t know what to expect. His voice seemed strong, but still tired on the phone. And in pain, but that’s something that Nancy would expect. He did just have a ceiling collapse on him.
She steps in.
Nancy pauses when Dylan turns to look at her. Yes, turned. Meaning he’s not --
“Fancy seeing you here,” Dylan says in greeting.
Nancy wants to gasp when she sees his face, bruises liberally littering it, but she bites her tongue.
“You are not in traction,” Nancy observes instead.
“Astute as ever,” Dylan replies in a tired voice. “It’s good to see you. Cracked the case, I take it?”
“Cracked as much as your arm,” Nancy jokes.
“Ouch,” Dylan replies with a tight smile. “Mocking the wounded. How very Nancy Drew of you. You’re the reason I’m –”
“I’m so sorry,” Nancy responds, taking a couple of steps towards Dylan’s body on the bed.
“I was meaning to make a joke. But apology accepted. If it were Lily, I might have shoved her underneath, not away.”
Nancy is relieved to hear that his voice is getting stronger.
Nancy rolls her eyes. “No, you wouldn’t.”
“Alright,” The Brit concedes. “You’re right. I wouldn’t. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t feel like it.”
“Oh, come on,” Nancy complains. “Lily’s harmless. Unless you’re the person she copied off of.”
Dylan’s eyebrows launch into his forehead, a signal of his peaked interest. “Oh? Do tell. It’s been quite stale being stuck here. But the all the weird and wonderful drugs are a de-light.”
Nancy just laughs.
Dylan smiles. “Good. You’re laughing. Seems my charms aren’t as busted as my arm.”
“Ha, ha,” Nancy returns in a deadpan tone. “Charms? Don’t you mean charm? You only have one useable arm right now.”
“Yes, yes. I put the ‘arm’ in charm. Singular.”
They softly laugh together.
Then, a moment of silence in the room. A comfortable silence. A friendly one.
“I’m glad you’re alright,” Nancy says, breaking that silence.
“Hard to keep a good man down,” Dylan replies. “Makes you wonder why the hell I’m still here, eh? On my word, Dylan James Carter will be good here on out. Scout’s honor.”
Dylan accompanies the pledge with a lift of his good arm, displaying the salute of the Boy Scouts.
“Were you ever a boy scout?”
“I was, actually. Probably where my love of exploring originated. So, how about you? How did Nancy Drew become a detective?”
“I wish I could say it was something dramatic, but the school bully stole my bike in elementary school and I tracked it down.”
Dylan gasps in mock horror. “She didn’t dare?!”
Nancy just shrugs. “She did, but Deirdre and I are on sort of good terms now.”
“Deirdre?” Dylan asks, his nose scrunched. “What sort of name is Deirdre?”
“Gaelic. Meaning broken-hearted or sorrowful,” Nancy immediately responds.
Nancy catches Dylan’s green eyes starting at her.
He suddenly coughs, clearing his throat. “I’d be broken-hearted if my name were Deirdre, too. No wonder the girl became the school bully. Probably had a ‘bully them before they bully me’ mentality.”
Dylan adjusts himself in his bed as best he can.
“So, what happened? Did you give dear Deirdre what-for?”
“Well, I did try to get my dad to prosecute her, but no dice.”
“Shame.”
“It’s probably why her hate for me escalated.”
“I can’t imagine anyone hating you,” Dylan says with wonder, shaking his head with confusion.
“You’d be surprised. You saw how perfectly tactless I can be. I’m sorry, by the way… for pressing you.”
“No apologies necessary. I deserved it. I was being thick. If any of those black-market dealers had come, it – you could – danger… Not good. It just wouldn’t have been good, would it?”
Nancy’s blue eyes squint at Dylan, trying to make sense of his scattered words.
“No,” she finally relents. “Definitely not good. Is that why you --”
Nancy’s question is halted when the door to the room opens.
Pretended to be in traction? Nancy finishes the question in her mind.
The arriving nurse just pauses at the sight of an additional body in the room. Nancy takes notice of the way her eyes travel between her and Dylan, almost as if she knows she is interrupting something.
“Ginger hair. You must be Nancy. He would not stop talking about you.”
Nancy glances back at Dylan to see that he is turning a particular shade of pink.
“Blame the morphine,” he replies with a non-committal shrug of his shoulders. “Ow!”
“Apparently can’t blame it too much,” Nancy says with a snort.
“Yes, yes! Keep taking the mickey out of the poor injured bloke.”
“Well, he’s getting ready for lunch. I can bring you up a plate so you can join him, if you wish?” the nurse asks.
“That would be great, thanks.”
Finally making herself a little more at home, Nancy finds a chair and scoots it closer to Dylan. She sits when she finds an appropriate position. Not too close, and yet not too far. Nancy waits patiently in the chair as the nurse gets his lunch situated.
“I’ll be right back,” she says, excusing herself from the room.
“I believe you have forgotten that I was injured saving your life,” Dylan begins as he lifts the lid off of his tray. “You continue to be mean to me.”
“What? Are you going to tell on me, Dylan?”
“Nope,” he replies quickly. “So come on, then. Are you going to tell me or not?”
“Tell you what?” Nancy returns.
Dylan just snorts. “About the case, of course!”
And so she does. She tells him everything. From start to finish, she tells the tale of the Lost-but-now-found Queen. Nancy even tells him the things he was there for but probably missed due to him being shunned from the site.
She talks most of the day away, answering Dylan’s questions along the way. He seemed more interested in Egyptology than he put off at first glance. Not in it just for the guides and exploration, but for the rich culture of it all.
But Nancy can hear the fatigue that has entered his voice. She looks down at her watch.
“Oh my gosh!”
“What? What is it?”
“Is that the time?” Nancy exclaims in almost-horror. It’s almost time for her flight. “I’ve got to get to the airport.”
“Oh,” Dylan says, his already tired face falling.
“Take care of yourself, Dylan Carter. And take care of Nefatari’s tomb.”
“You should come by sometime, you know. To check up on this place.”
“I just might do that.”
“It was lovely meeting you, Nancy Drew,” Dylan says, holding out his good arm for her to take.
“Same to you, Dylan Carter.”
“I still have your number, so I’ll ring you if I ever come into any trouble.”
Nancy just snorts. “Trouble just might be your middle name.”
“No, it isn’t. I just told you earlier that my middle name is James. What about you?”
“What about me what?”
“Middle name?”
“Oh. Elanor.”
“Best be seeing you, Nancy Elanor Drew.”
“You take care of yourself, Dylan James Carter.”
“You, too.”
“I’ll try! ‘Bye now!”
“Ta, ta!” Dylan replies, a sad smile gracing his lips.
Nancy feels the warmth leave her hand as her hand slips from Dylan’s grasp. It falls unceremoniously back down to her denim-covered side. She gives one last wave before heading out of the room. She pauses as soon as she steps foot back in the buzzing hallway.
She knows she needs to go. Her Dad…and Ned -- waiting for her, but some other part – some other part of her – no, she won’t go there.
Right. She steels herself. If she’s going anywhere. It’s home.
Nancy’s phone rings as soon as she flags down a cab. She looks down at the screen to see the name DYLAN CARTER flashing up at her.
She smiles as she lifts the communication device to her ear.