Archive of Our Own

The room is like the musty basement of the River Heights Happy Trails Motel, only worse. The motel was only hiding a teddy bear smuggling operation—or rather, molly bears. The dank chamber she finds herself in now features torture devices and an auspicious blood splatter on the wall, matching the ransom photos slipped into her contact’s mail slot yesterday.

There’s no sign of a kidnapper or kidnappee, now though, nor any obvious clues. Nancy reviews her journal for the umpteenth time.

Can't check that off yet, still have to do that, haven't done that yet, her internal monologue helpfully supplies. There must be something she's missing in this room, but what?

Ugh, I could you a hint.

She’s more self-reliant these days, after an awkward business proposition left her on strange footing with the Hardy Boys. Still, sometimes it’s better to get a little help.

Nancy scrolls down to Ned’s contact. The picture next to his name is years out-of-date, back from his high school days, but it's how she remembers him best in her memories.

“Hey, Nancy,” Ned answers, not nearly as upbeat as she had expected. Maybe he’s busy?

“Is it a bad time? I can try Bess and George instead?”

“So it’s about a case?”

“Oh, Ned, I haven’t even told you about this last string of interconnected mysteries—”

“Yea, you haven’t, Nance," he cuts her off, "How long has it been since we talked? Do you even realize?”

“I’ll be back soon; I just have to finish this.”

“It's fine. You have your priorities and I have mine,” Ned sighs, “I'm not one of yours and I'm learning how to not make you one of mine.”

“Ned?”

“I wanted to end our relationship in person, really, but you get why that's been a problem, right? I stopped calling you and waited for you to reach out. It’s been two months and now that you’re finally calling, it’s so I can be your little rubber duck. Goodbye Nancy, and good luck with your case.”

Ned hangs up without waiting for her response. As the screen turns to his contact info, she takes a second to scroll through, noting the stark lack of any texts between the two of them over the past several weeks.

Opening her journal, she writes herself a quick note before packing her thoughts away.

She scrolls through her contacts, wondering if she should bite the bullet and call Frank—although that feels worse now, remembering the time Deirdre asked her how long he had had a crush on her. A crush she was unaware of at the time, but Deirdre, while exceptionally blunt, always had a better read on social dynamics versus hers. Calling him right after Ned broke up with her? Not a bridge she wanted to cross. Very much a bridge to burn.

Deirdre, though. Deirdre has helped her on cases before. She’d probably even take pleasure in Nancy having to call her because she can’t call Ned anymore and not even complain that much. That, or hang up on her too so she can pester Ned instead.

She chooses the lesser evil and clicks the call icon next to Deirdre’s name.

“Drew? Can't imagine this is a social call,” Deirdre answers, straight to the point.

Nancy responds in kind, “look, I'm on a time crunch. Any chance you know anything about blood splatter analysis?”

“Well, it's pretty much bullshit—as is most of the CSI type evidence. You actually investigating a gruesome murder?”

“Not quite. I think either kidnapping or someone trying to disappear for good.”

“Ahh, so you're trying to see how many people were on the scene. Interesting, send me a pic?”

“Sending. Also sending you some photos delivered courtesy of the culprit, but there’s something off about them. Like they’ve been digitally altered.”

“I can check for that. Give me fifteen minutes to process these data in the software. You want me to call you back, or you want to do the whole girl talk thing?”

“Girl talk?”

“Don't just repeat what I say, ace. There's a reason you called me. While I am the only criminology major you know, I can't imagine being in your fav. contacts list.”

Deirdre’s already agreed to help her, so Nancy supposes it’s only fair to share.

“I called Ned first. Didn’t realize it, but I haven't talked to him in 2 months based on my phone history. He'd been waiting for me to return to River Heights to break up, but given everything, a phone call would have to do. Bet you're thrilled.”

“Hell, you really are offline. I'm a little disappointed my nemesis wasn't stalking my social media and missed my big coming out post last year.”

“But you've always—"

“I've never been interested in Ned, Nancy,” Deirdre interjects, “but he was an attractive enough guy who was taken, so pretending to have a crush on him meant no one ever questioned me on why I wasn't in a relationship. It's like closeted lesbian 101.”

“Oh,” Nancy says, a little sheepishly, “Well congrats. Are you dating anyone now?”

“I'm having fun. The girl I like is a little unavailable right now but I'm not going to be a nun in the meantime.”

She’s probably going to get a bad grade in girl talk, but a noise from one of the walls distracts her.

“That's cool. Hey Deirdre, I think something weird is going on with the room. There’s a strange noise, but I don’t see anything different.”

“You're in the murder room right now? You've gotta be kidding me.”

“Well, it's more of a kidnapping room.”

“Semantics aren't important here. Is the panel from the photoset still there?

“Yeah, although it doesn't seem to be connected to anything.”

“That's because it's a bomb. The noise you heard was likely its activation sound. You could try to escape, but we don't know how much time is left or how wide its range is. Second option, you try to deactivate it.”

“Looks simple, a five wire one,” Nancy says, fiddling with the phone, “Hold on, I’m putting you on speakerphone; I've gotta find a knife.”

“I'm buying you a multi-tool for your birthday.”

“You'd get me a gift? So sweet, Deirdre.”

“Shut up. It'd be one of the $5 ones at best. Nothing fancy.”

“Still though. Ok, I've got it open. There's a random matching game I've got to play before I can cut the wires though.”

“Ugh, I hate how the later models are always introducing those identity checks.”

The line goes silent as Nancy starts combining tiles with pictures of dynamite on them. It's a little unnerving.

“Talk to me please? About anything? Maybe the girl you like?”

“You should be focused on the active threat to your life, you know.”

“I am! Just background noise.”

“Fine, fine. You'll probably block all of this out anyway. You’ve always been oblivious when you're not on the case.”

“Mhmm,” Nancy hums, onto the second stage of stacking batteries into the compartments according to weight requirements.

“I've liked her for a long time, far longer than I care to admit, but I didn't make the best impression on her at first.”

“You? Making a bad impression? I can't believe it”

“Laugh it up. I hope that you deactivate the bomb but a little spark comes out and singes your eyebrows.”

“Rude!”

“Anyway, she's one of the few people who challenges me, makes me want to be better. I can't say if the reverse is true, but I hope it is.”

“Well, I know our one-sided rivalry has challenged me to be better, so I'm sure you're doing the same for her.”

Deirdre laughs on the other end, “You're like so obsessed with me, it's def. a mutual rivalry.”

“So why is she unavailable?”

“Too many reasons to list. She's a free spirit, which I don't mind, but IDK that she would even want to be in a relationship, then there's the whole issue of her having never seen me in that light before.”

“Last time Ned and I fought about my detective work, he said he shouldn't cage me in too, but shouldn't that be my choice? Or your mystery girl's in this case.”

“Ned gets excited when a waitress remembers his order. You get excited when you get a note telling you to quit the case or else. It's less about him not wanting to cage you in and more him wanting to enjoy the coziness of his kennel.”

“Look,” Deirdre pauses, “I'm not even saying this to be mean, but you were a shit girlfriend. Loverboy put up with a lot in terms of you being emotionally and physically elsewhere in your relationship. That isn't some moral failing or anything, but it makes sense as to why he wanted to break up.”

“Gee thanks.”

“Are you done with that bomb yet?”

“Uh yea, just snapping the last wire now.”

“Good, results are back on the photos. There's a ton of artifacting around the blue banner.”

“I'm on it.”

Before Nancy can pull it open, though, she feels another presence in the room.

Turning around, she pleads with him, “You don't want to do this, Sean!”

“Do what? You already destroyed my bomb. I think I should get to destroy some of yours in return”, he says while grabbing her phone, before stomping on it, effectively ending the call.

Several hours of police interrogation later, Sean is in custody, the necklace has been returned, and Nancy is tucked into bed, freshly phoneless but with her laptop at least.

She logs onto MyPage on a whim.

The first post she sees isn't a post at all; it's the notification that Ned has removed their relationship status, but thankfully marked it as a silent change. If nothing else, at least she won't have to read everyone's comments about it.

She navigates past the pictures of Bess and George at the Rawley’s and clicks onto Deirdre's page.

Her page is still tightly curated: pictures of study nights, the lab, scenic landscapes, but an occasional personal post slips through. A recent one makes her laugh.

Further back, she finds the original post. It's just a simple status, not the flashiest post in the world, but Nancy's surprised at how many comments there are.

She likes the status and then heads back to her feed.

Seconds later, she gets a ping.

The next day, she starts her after-case letter ritual. She used to write them to her dad, Hannah, Bess, or George, but she’s been in the habit of writing just to Ned for a while. Another routine of hers she'll need to change. She makes a choice before she can second guess herself and puts pen to paper.