polkadottedmars, a fellow Nancy/Ned fan, started this story; once this year's het-bigbang challenge came around, I asked if she would mind if we co-authored it, and she very generously agreed. I had a blast working on it with her, and I absolutely love this story. I hope you do too. My co-author was absolutely fantastic.

The entire story is complete; I will post a new chapter every 2-3 days.

This is also an edited version of the story, although plot elements are serious/adult and occasionally violent, and this includes occasional adult language/hints of adult situations. If you are an adult and want to read the full version of this story, you can find it on AO3.

In retrospect, Nancy should have known.

There was no way she could, of course, but the entire day had been terrible, starting with sleeping through her alarm. She was wrapping up a case in Chicago, making a formal statement to the officers about the man who had kidnapped her and what she had overheard when he thought she was knocked out. The case had involved smuggling, bribery, unimaginable greed—and it had been just what she needed. Until Chris McNamara, one of her contacts on the case, had started flirting with her, anyway.

She had seen Chris at the police station just before giving her statement, and she had blushed and looked away, fidgeting with the locket she wore with her belted navy shirtdress and flats, the locket Ned had given her last year. Her last message to Chris had been firm and unequivocal, and she had silently begged him to just walk away. When she had found the nerve to glance back to where she had seen him, he had been gone.

Ned had just graduated from Emerson. It was a natural time for him to be considering the next phase of his life, what he wanted to do… reevaluating his relationships, working to keep in touch with the people he had bonded with over the past four years. Nancy was uncomfortably aware that part of that likely meant his considering where he wanted their own relationship to go.

And then Chris had fucking kissed her.

Ned had heard it in her voice when they had next talked, and she had told him. God, she hadn't wanted to, and the weary resignation in his voice had frightened her far more than an explosive outburst would have. There had been a time when he had vowed he would fight for them; she could remember that, the salt tang of the sea in the air, curling her reddish-gold hair, the dampness of his palm, the hurt in his eyes. If he loved her, then this would hurt him. Or maybe she had hurt him so, so many times that he was numb.

Her breathless demand that he say something had escalated into the fight she hadn't wanted to have. She could feel it in him, maybe because she feared it so much: he was ready to give up, to find someone who was a real adult, who could be a devoted girlfriend. It had been good while it lasted, but high school sweethearts were never meant to last.

So she had promised him, in that heavy silence when they were both panting, her eyes squeezed shut, her hand buried in her hair. Her cheek had been damp from one escaped tear. "I'm done," she had sworn, her voice cracking. "Baby, I promise you I didn't lead him on, I thought he knew that there could be nothing between us… and it was all that happened." She had paused. "And this is the last time we're ever going to have this conversation."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

They had spoken since then, and he had agreed to go on a date with her tonight. She wanted to believe she had imagined the reluctance in his voice. But even if he was reluctant, doubting her, if he showed up tonight then she could win him over, she knew she could. His words kept echoing in her head, and she was determined to prove him wrong, if he would only give her the chance.

And he would be there tonight. Ned Nickerson was the sweetest, bravest, most incredible man Nancy had ever known, and he kept his promises. Her words were cheap, though, and now she needed to prove to him that she meant it. He was the only guy for her. He always had been.

As soon as she slid behind the wheel of her Mustang, a fat raindrop splattered against it. Bad omen - the words flashed across her mind before she dismissed them.

"No," she moaned, shooting a glare up at the baleful gray-purple sky. At least she had prepared for her date before she left River Heights; she definitely wasn't going to have time now to stop and change clothes. Ned had always loved her in one particular blue dress, and she hoped the color of this one might help soften his disappointment. She wanted to save his particular-favorite blue dress for a date not starting at a pizza place.

But she definitely didn't want this one to start off on the absolutely wrong fucking foot. She needed to be on time, so she could show him her apology wasn't empty and she really was recommitting to their relationship. She was sure that she had spent most, if not all, of his sympathy and understanding already.

The Mustang hydroplaned several times on the way to River Heights, and the rain slamming against her car created such a din that she glanced down at her phone periodically to check for notifications, her hands locked to the steering wheel, her shoulders tensed. Her windshield wipers were smacking back and forth at their highest speed, but she was still having trouble seeing past the glass. She saw a few cars pulled over, their hazard lights flashing vaguely behind the curtain of water, and set her jaw.

Better to be a few minutes late than dead. Surely Ned would understand she had no control over the weather.

As though responding to her thought, the tires spun as she hydroplaned again. She took her foot off the gas, muttering a string of curses under her breath, and took her hands off the wheel one at a time, shaking them out. During a brief lull, she glanced down to see her cell phone screen fading. She hadn't even heard the alert, and then the rain began pounding against her car again, driving all thought of it out of her head. Cautiously she slowed just a little more, watching with some alarm as a car in front of her changed lanes too quickly and began to skid.

Nancy was practically in River Heights before she was able to pick up her phone and check the notification. No call, but a voicemail had been received. She groaned. Either the rain had interfered with her cell signal, or she had traveled through a bad area at just the right time, because she knew that her phone hadn't actually rung.

The voicemail was from Ned.

"Fuck," she growled. She was thirty minutes late already, thanks to slowdowns, to rubbernecking at a few wrecks on the highway, and the generally shitty conditions. The rain was still too loud, and if she were actually honest, her heart was pounding too hard for her to listen to the message and actually hear anything. If the message was bad, she didn't want to hear it, and she could always tell him she had never received the voicemail and just delete it later.

She checked her watch when she pulled into the parking lot and hastily parked. Forty-one minutes late. Ned was going to be impatient and disappointed at best, frustrated and angry at worst—no, no, she realized as she scanned the parking lot, looking for his familiar car and failing to find it. It would be worse if he had given up on her and left, and if his message was telling her that he was done.

Maybe, she thought, fully aware of how desperate she was, his parents gave him a car as a graduation present and that's why I don't see his here.

She unfurled her umbrella and dashed for the pizza place, noting Bess's canary-yellow Camaro as she dodged puddles and headed for the enticing aroma of garlic, butter, and cheese. Fuck. She should have pulled off the road and called Ned—but the weather had been so bad, and she had been so impatient to get here and see him. Frustrated tears rose in her eyes, but she sniffled and set her jaw, determined not to cry.

Bess Marvin, one of Nancy's three best friends, was seated at a booth and poking at a salad. A soda, presumably diet, was at her right hand. At the seat facing her, Nancy saw, was a tall cup of iced water in a pool of its own condensation, no straw, and no food.

Nancy took all that in at a glance, then scanned the rest of the restaurant, looking for a familiar dark-haired, dark-eyed man. Maybe he's in the restroom, she told herself, but her heart was sinking.

"Hey!"

Nancy had to force a smile she really wasn't feeling as she turned her gaze on Bess. She was happy to see her friend, but she could also feel that second chance she had begged for just going down the drain, and it was killing her. "Hey," she said. "Uh, you haven't seen Ned…?"

"I have!" Bess gestured for Nancy to have a seat. "That's his water. He went out to the parking lot to call you because it was so loud in here, but he didn't come back, and I thought maybe he'd run into you and you'd decided to go somewhere else. It was packed."

The place still was packed, actually. Nancy took her phone out, but she saw no new notifications or messages. "I was in a bad cell area, so I think he tried to call—he left me a message. I haven't had a chance to check it yet."

Bess shrugged, spearing a chunk of tomato with her fork. "He was being so nice. I think Marcus stood me up."

"Oh, honey," Nancy said, almost automatically. Bess just looked so forlorn. "The weather is so awful, I'm sure he's just caught in it…"

Bess shrugged. "Maybe," she said.

And just maybe this was how Ned had felt, too, his doubt and disappointment ascribing malice where there had been none.

Not that Nancy was unwilling to doubt Marcus Vincent, Bess's most recent boyfriend. He was altogether too polished, too—watchful. Nancy couldn't put her finger on it, but the man made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. To Bess, he was dreamy and self-assured and perfect, and clearly well-off, judging by his fastidious wardrobe and flashy jewelry. He reminded her of the kind of guy her father would find some excuse not to accept as a client.

"Let me just…" Nancy nodded at her phone, and Bess shrugged again, giving up on the salad and taking a long sip of her soda. Poor Bess. Maybe it would be best if Marcus really had stood her up. That way she could start looking for someone much, much better.

"Hey. Um, it's…" Ned's recorded voice spoke the time, and Nancy glanced down at her watch. Twenty minutes ago. "I'm at the pizza place and it's pouring. I'm hoping you're still on the way, that the weather's holding you up, but—"

And then Ned went dead quiet, and the hush of the rain filled the silence. Nancy pressed her ear harder against the phone, straining for anything else, wondering if he had been distracted and had put his phone back in his pocket without hanging up. According to her phone, the message wasn't quite finished.

Then his voice returned, but now it was hushed, staccato. "Shit. Nan, I—Bess, she, you need to, when you get here, get her somewhere safe."

The message ended abruptly, with Ned sucking in a breath, but he didn't say anything else.

Nancy pulled the phone away from her ear, her brow furrowed. She rewound the message and listened to it again. The urgency at the end sent a chill down her spine. But when she looked around, nothing seemed out of place, other than poor Bess. At the other tables, couples and groups of friends were joking, laughing, talking. The rain had turned the parking lot into a sea of puddles and gleaming asphalt, and it was still pounding down.

"Hey," Nancy said, and then she cleared her throat. Bess glanced at her. "Looks like our guys ditched us. I'm gonna try to call Ned, and if I don't reach him, why don't we go back to my house and have a girls' night? We can get a pizza to go, some ice cream, invite George over, you know—celebrate being strong ladies who don't need a man to have fun."

Bess gave her a half-smile. "Sounds kinda like what Ned said, that I was welcome to have dinner with you two if Marc didn't show. I mean…"

She was wavering. Nancy reached for her hand and patted it. "I've just had a really shitty day and I'd love to be with my two best friends," she said. "Please?"

Bess dropped her fork, glancing at her salad with unconcealed disgust. "Just 'cause Ned isn't here," she murmured.

"It's not that, I promise. C'mon. Please. I've missed you both."

The cashier handed over a works pizza minus olives ten minutes later, and Nancy smiled and accepted the receipt and the warm cardboard box, her phone sandwiched between her cheek and her shoulder. Her fourth call to Ned's phone clicked over to voicemail, just like the first three had. She sighed and navigated to the messaging screen. Baby, I'm so sorry I was late. Why'd you leave? Please call me.

"Ready?"

Bess wrinkled her nose when she saw the rain still pouring down outside.

"We can share my umbrella."

The bell over the door jangled as a man walked in, and for a fraction of a second, Nancy's heart stopped. But it wasn't Ned. It was Marc.

"Sorry I'm late," Marc said, striding briskly toward Bess. His slacks were soaked to the thigh, his gelled hair limp. "I'm so sorry."

"Why didn't you call?" Bess demanded, crossing her arms. "You're an hour late!"

"I saw someone from work and needed to talk to him. It lasted longer than I expected." Marc's voice was soothing, apologetic. Then he glanced at Nancy, and she saw a sudden sharpness in his eyes, gone so quickly that she could have imagined it. "Nancy."

"Marc," she said, trying to keep her tone less than obviously hostile. She already didn't like him… and Ned's message, his whispered warning, was echoing in her ears. She needed to get Bess somewhere safe; she didn't know if he had meant away from the pizza place or just to her own house, but she didn't want to take any chances. She just wished she could reach him so he could explain. "Bess? Let's go."

Bess nodded, and Nancy felt a wave of relief. "I'll call you," she told Marc haughtily, walking out with her arm linked through Nancy's.

Bess agreed to call George on the way to Nancy's house, and Nancy tried Ned's phone three more times. Now her call was going straight to voicemail, instead of ringing. She was fighting tears when she left him a message. "I know you're probably mad—I'm going back to my house with Bess. We picked up a works pizza, no olives. If you want to come by, at least we could talk? Please… I'm so sorry, but the weather… just please, at least text me back. I want to see you."

George came over to Nancy's house with a bag of baked chips and a six-pack of lightly flavored sparkling water. They supplemented with a gallon of ice cream, a bag of chocolate candies, the pizza, and some of Hannah's leftover cookies, ignoring the television as Nancy poured out her sadness and frustration over the situation with Ned. She had plugged her dying phone in to charge, and couldn't help periodically checking it just to make sure it had signal and wasn't reporting a new message. But nothing did.

Why had he been worried about Bess? If he had just stepped out of the restaurant to call Nancy, then surely it would have been easy for him to just open the door again and ask her to come with him. Mapleton wasn't so far away, and a big part of her wanted to drive to his parents' house, see if his car was in the driveway, and then pound on the door until he answered. But she was worried about what his reaction might be. If he was angry at her, as she fully believed he was, a night to cool off might be the best.

Bad omen.

Don't make promises you can't keep.

Nancy, Bess, and George stayed up until they couldn't keep their eyes open, and then Nancy tucked them into the guest bed and shuffled to her own room. The portrait of Ned she kept at her bedside smiled at her as she stripped her socks off.

"I'm sorry," she told him, and this time when the tears welled up, she didn't fight them. It was two o'clock in the morning. Ned wouldn't be contacting her this late. This dread and sadness was going to linger with her all night.

Nancy slept poorly, tossing and turning, plumping the pillow, sighing, groaning when a few tears slipped out and soaked into her pillowcase. She felt strange, almost drunk, when she finally gave up on sleeping and opened her eyes to the scent of coffee in the air. Hannah and her father were up, and Bess and George would undoubtedly be sleeping in.

And Nancy couldn't relax until she had talked to Ned again. They could set up another date, this one at a nice place. He was always so considerate about giving her gifts; she started considering what she might do to make up for missing their date. Bess had made an offhand comment about guys liking flowers, even though most of them didn't talk about it. That, and a cute teddy bear, maybe. And Hannah's chocolate cake, an entire cake. If she made it herself, she thought that might make him consider talking to her.

She felt a few seconds of indignant anger. It truly hadn't been her fault; none of it had. She hadn't been in control of the weather, and she hadn't been able to leave the city ahead of the storm. Yeah, maybe she should have called him and let him know what was going on, but she hadn't wanted to waste time. She had rushed through that terrible storm for no reason. Ned hadn't even been there. And she hadn't been saving Bess from some awful danger.

But her anger didn't make her feel any better. She released a defeated sigh as she tossed back the comforter. Their conversation would be painful, and—and maybe there was another explanation. She hoped to God there was.

Her heart was pounding when she checked her phone, but she saw only a few new email notifications. Nothing from Ned. What would have kept him from calling her all night, from at least responding to her text, if not anger?

Nancy was just brushing her teeth when her phone began ringing. Ned's ringtone! She almost choked, then spat out a mouthful of lather and raced for it.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Nancy? Oh, I'm glad I reached you. Is Ned with you?"

"Oh." She went back to the bathroom, rinsing her mouth. All Ned's numbers were stored under that ringtone, including his home number; she had forgotten. "Hi, Mrs. Nickerson. No, he isn't. I've been trying to reach him since last night. Did he—is he on his way over here?" Her mind began racing, considering what she should wear, how long she had to get ready.

"Not that I know of. He left last night for his date with you, and I haven't seen or heard from him since. I thought that he must be helping you out with a case, but it's not like him to not check in, and when I call it goes to voicemail."

Nancy's eyebrows went up. Maybe Ned was mad at her, but he wouldn't ignore his own mother. His cell phone could be dead. But where was he?

"Um… me too, actually. Bess saw him last night, so I know he was at the pizza place, at least for a little while. If I hear from him, I will definitely let you know." Nancy swallowed. "So, if you see him or hear from him—I left him a few messages, and could you…"

"I'll ask him to call," Ned's mother said. "Maybe he ran into an old friend… I hope he calls soon. Thanks again, honey."

The entire day, Nancy kept checking her phone, her voicemails, her emails, but she received nothing from Ned. She kept trying to think of possible explanations, but she kept imagining that Ned had become so angry or so disappointed with her that he had gone somewhere to brood, somewhere off the grid. Somewhere she would be unlikely to find him. She was eternally grateful to Bess and George, who offered to go with her to look for him. Nancy even considered trying to track his cell phone, but decided that his turning it off was enough of a sign. She didn't want to invade his privacy too, or intrude if he wanted to be alone.

That didn't mean she didn't go through the photos of them together on social media and linger over each with a pang. She loved him, and she was just exhausted and overthinking things. They would go on a date and everything would work out. It had to. They had to.

George invited her to go play tennis, and then the three of them went to the movies; Bess chuckled when she checked her phone afterward and saw three messages from Marc, and Nancy tamped down her jealousy when she saw no messages on her own phone. Nancy went home afterward and crawled into bed with her cell phone beside her, the volume turned up to maximum. She hadn't heard from Ned or from anyone relaying a message from him. She decided to call Ned's house after her nap, just in case Ned had come home and his mother had forgotten to let her know. Maybe Ned didn't want to talk to her, but if he was home, she could wait there for him, beg him in person to talk to her.

She would wear the blue dress he loved. And if she didn't hear from him by tomorrow, she would track him down. Maybe Ned was hurt, but he wouldn't just cut her off this way. It just didn't make sense.

As soon as she woke up from her nap, she checked her phone. Just one message from Bess; nothing from Ned.

She was still yawning as she came downstairs, her heart heavy, tears pricking in her eyes. At any other time, she would be begging the universe to toss a new case into her lap, something to distract her from what was going on with Ned. Instead, she was just lost.

"Nancy. Grilled chicken okay?" Hannah asked from the kitchen. Nancy's father was sitting in the living room, paging through a magazine, with the evening news playing.

"Sounds good," Nancy said, forcing a smile. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Putting the salad together?" Hannah suggested.

Nancy was on autopilot as she sliced tomatoes and cucumbers, tore romaine lettuce, and added some spinach to the mix. She heard her father exclaim something from the other room, but didn't hear what it was.

She poked her head into the living room. "Dad, croutons?"

He nodded, gazing at the television. "Wonder what happened," he murmured.

"What is it?"

He pointed at the screen. "A car caught fire on the river road. They're about to go live." He shook his head.

Nancy came over to the couch and sat down. She really needed some caffeine, or to get a full night of sleep. She was hardly able to concentrate.

"This is Hal Taylor," the reporter on screen said, as the WRVH Breaking News logo flashed beside him. Nancy felt a quiet pang, remembering when she had worked undercover at the station, investigating threats that had been made against the handsome reporter. During that case Ned had come over to the house, and they had cuddled and made out in front of the fire in this very room. His kisses had left her weak in the knees. She needed that again, so much.

"I'm just outside River Heights, at the scene of what I'm told was a single-vehicle accident. We're live with the fire chief, whose crew has just put out the blaze. Chief Laskey?"

Chief Laskey, the visor pushed back on his helmet, shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. "When we arrived, we found the car in flames," he said, then glanced once at the camera. He seemed intensely uncomfortable. "Only the driver inside. It was too intense to be anything—routine. We suspect that an incendiary device may have been used, but it's too soon to know for sure."

"The driver?" Hal asked, gesturing at the ambulance standing by, its lights flashing. "Can you give us an update on the driver's condition?"

Chief Laskey glanced down, then set his jaw and glanced back up, his brow furrowed by grief. He shook his head. "It was too fast," he said, in a rush. "There just—was no time."

The cameraman followed Hal as he approached the caution tape surrounding the scene, and the wide swath of scorched grass supported the chief's theory. The burned husk of the car was almost skeletal; only the rear was still intact. No one could possibly have survived.

"We'll keep you updated as we find out more," Hal promised. "Tragic fiery accident tonight on the river road between Mapleton and River Heights, now confirmed as fatal. No word yet on the driver's identity."

The white rectangle of the burned car's license plate was cast in alternating red and blue from all the lights flashing around it. Nancy stood, her gaze locked to the television screen as she struggled to read it.

"Nan?"

"Ned," she breathed, and then glanced at her father, tears filling her eyes. "That's—that's his license plate—that's his car!"