Written for lilblondie for Nancy Drew Yuletide 2006.

"I should never have let her go."

Around the Drews' big dining room table, clustered around the coffeepot, they sat, quiet and depressed. Bess in a deep crimson cowlnecked sweater, her blonde hair falling in gentle curves over her shoulders, her blue eyes grieved. Her cousin and Nancy's other best friend George, in a clinging black turtleneck, her face buried in her hands. Carson's eyes were deep in his exhaustion-shaded sockets, his collar open at his throat, his coffee untouched. Edith and James Nickerson were holding hands tightly, their heads bent together, silent. Where the rest of them were still, lost in their own thoughts, Hannah was hard at work in the kitchen, bringing fresh coffee, fresh rolls, fresh everything, and no one ever touched any of it.

Ned, facing Carson across the table, was the one who had broken the silence, and he looked worst of them all. His brown hair was ruffled from his nervous fingers, and though even Carson had managed even a few hours' sleep, none of them had seen Ned so much as lie down.

Bess sighed. "You know it doesn't work like that," she murmured.

George shook her head. "When Nancy puts her mind to something..."

"But why today?" Ned took the cup of coffee Hannah gave him, wincing at the first sip. "Dammit..."

Edith shot him a mildly scandalized look, but didn't say a word to her son. Instead she turned to Carson. "How much longer until we can call?"

Carson glanced down at his watch. "The Chief said at eleven," he sighed. "Not yet."

George's gaze traveled around the table, and then she let her fist drop to the wood. "I can't stand this waiting," she cried in frustration. "I can't do this."

Ned glanced up, and the look in his eyes was clear. If George did manage to leave the house, he would be with her.

"We have to," Carson murmured. "The police are all out there looking for her, half the cops in Chicago are looking for her. To go out in this storm..."

Bess glanced out the window, past George, shivering. She could feel the tension radiating from her cousin in waves; she felt the same, but the wind was howling around the Drews' house in terrible creaking gusts, the ice cracking against the windowpanes. Even the sound of it made her feel cold. Visibility ended in a gleaming white wall, a foot away from the windows. Even the thought of driving down the block was terrifying.

"But she could be out there," Ned murmured, voicing what all of them feared. "Somewhere cold."

"And they'll find her," Carson said firmly.

How can you be this calm? George's fist clenched on the arm of her chair and Bess wanted to scream. Nancy had been in tight spots before, so many she could hardly count them all, but Carson... whatever hell Nancy's father had to be going through, he was keeping it to himself. Ned, on the other hand, was coiled tight as a spring, fighting to keep himself from running to the phone every time it rang.

Hannah appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. "The cake's done," she announced, subdued. "If anyone wants some..."

Ned shoved his chair away from the table, but instead of taking Hannah up on her offer, he vanished into the den. A moment later, the howl of the wind rose to a scream before the door slamed closed.

Bess turned to George, her face pale. "I have never seen Ned turn down Hannah's chocolate cake," she said softly.

"Or any chocolate cake," Edith murmured.

Hannah put the cake down on the table, gazing down at it sadly. "Merry Christmas," she said softly.

James Nickerson found his son on the Drews' front porch, without a coat or boots, bent with his forearms against the railing. In the brief lull between the gusts of snow and ice, James could see the faint distant glow of the lights and candles in other windows, the bowing wicker reindeer trembling in the wind.

"She'll come home."

Ned's mouth tightened, but he didn't say anything.

James brushed the drift of snow from the porch swing and sat down, wincing slightly as he bent his knees. "Come here, son."

Ned's sigh was lost in the wind before he turned around, crossing his arms and leaning against the railing. "I need to find her."

James sighed. "If it's tomorrow you're worried about..."

Ned bowed his head and shook it slowly. "It's the rest of our lives," he admitted. "If..." He swallowed hard. "When she gets back, it's going to take everything I have to ever let her out of my sight again. And I know that she would never tolerate that."

James smiled. "You mean the way your mother and I feel every time you tell us that you're helping Nancy out with a new case?"

Ned came over to his father and sat down. "I guess it never is easy, is it."

James shook his head. "Tomorrow," he began.

Ned swallowed hard. "We'll deal with it when it comes," he said softly. "She's always made it back, and maybe they'll find her, before..."

"They will," James said, patting his son's knee. "They'll find her. And when she gets back, I'm sure she won't want to find you in bed with pneumonia. So come inside."

Ned bent forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I'll be in in a minute," he promised.

"You'd better," James returned, patting Ned on the back before he headed inside.

Ned waited a minute before climbing slowly back to his feet, staring out at the storm, unseeing. The wind snatched his breath away, freezing his eyelashes, burning his lungs with the cold, but he couldn't feel it. Somewhere, somewhere in this terrible night, she was alone, and he was frustrated, stranded, waiting.

He saw the blood-red spotlight of the flashers first. He shoved his numb fingers in his pockets, tracing its arc over the ghostly white-blue ice, his breath clouding in the air. "Nancy," he whispered, wishing, wishing, watching the car crawl past their driveway, his heart sinking in his chest.

But the car skidded, fishtailing slightly before it came to a stop, and the back door opened suddenly, hard. Ned found himself turning toward the stairs, breathless, but held himself back.

Until he saw the glint of red-gold hair under the streetlight.

"Nancy," he cried, not caring about anyone or anything else, not the door opening behind him. He didn't feel the stairs, didn't feel the frozen grass under his feet. He had never run like this, not in his closest games, never unless she was in danger, and then he saw her eyes, bright over a livid cut on her cheek.

"Ned!"

He scooped her up in his arms, and his momentum pinned her against the police car, and she was cold and shaking against him but she was alive. "You're safe," he whispered, as she buried her face against his neck. "You're safe. You're okay."

Her fingers dug into his sweater. "What day is it?" she demanded, her eyes wild when he pulled back to look at her. "Did I miss it?"

He laughed in relief. "No, baby," he said, and touched his forehead to hers. "It's okay. You didn't miss anything. It's Christmas Eve."

She sighed. "I was so scared," she said. "I just knew I needed to get back to you..."

He nodded. "Thank God you're here."

"Nancy!"

Ned turned, and Nancy with him, the color high in her bruised cheeks, to see the group waiting for her on the porch. "Wow."

"Yeah," Ned agreed. "We've been here all day, waiting. Hannah made a gorgeous chocolate cake and I couldn't even eat any of it."

"Oh really," Nancy smiled, and when she placed her hand against his cheek her skin was cold, but he didn't care. "So it's been a horrible day for everyone."

"You have no idea," Ned whispered, before their lips met in a long, sweet kiss. He squeezed her one last time before letting her stand on her own again. "But you're okay?"

Nancy shrugged, adjusting the rough blanket over her shoulders. "They wanted to take me to the hospital, but I had to come here first," she confessed, sliding her hand into his as they began the slow walk up to the house. "Really. It's nothing Bess won't be able to cover up with makeup."

Ned's fingers nudged the ring on her finger, and she lifted it up into the light, the diamond sparkling harder than the ice around them. "You sure you're okay? Because, we can wait..."

Nancy stopped walking. "Not on your life, Nickerson," she said, grinning. "The thought of marrying you in the morning is the only thing that kept me going, there at the end."

Ned bent down and kissed her, hard, so hard that she was breathless when he pulled back. "You and me both," he whispered.