Written: May 2008

Disclaimer: Because lawyers love suing college kids.

Author's Note: Based on a drawing my girlfriend gave me for Christmas.

Dedication: Thanks Kitty.

Frozen News and Baby Blues

By Pedal

Frank Hardy wanted to tell himself that the reason Nancy Drew was standing in his driveway had something to do with the fact his girlfriend had dumped him half a year before. Joe had just told Nancy in an email days earlier that Frank was no longer dating Callie, mentioning it off-hand as a result of some life-threatening case. Frank wanted to tell himself that, and had in fact started to, when common sense kicked in.

"I got you a present." Nancy dug around in the paper bag as if it were perfectly normal for her to show up in Bayport on a Saturday morning late in December. Frank leaned forward on his battered metal shovel and peered down at her, trying to think of what to say. Nancy's car was no where to be found; she had simply stepped out of his house twenty minutes after he'd started shoveling the walk and driveway. They hadn't seen each other for about three months, and yet here she was for no discernable reason beyond delivering a Christmas present.

Her long reddish hair was swept back by a pair of small powder blue earmuffs that matched the scarf tucked around her throat. Her coat was one he hadn't seen, an olive drab wool peacoat that was only new to her. The worn edges and browned hem told Frank she had probably bought it at a secondhand shop as a quick disguise on a recent case.

Finally her fuzzy green glove located a VHS-sized rectangular box and, shifting around the contents of her grocery bag, she dragged it up and out. All the gifts were wrapped in shimmering blue paper with thin silver ribbon, including his. He took it in his own gloved hands after jamming the shovel into a recently created bank of snow. He still hadn't said anything, nor could he yet think of anything appropriate. "Open it!" insisted Nancy.

Then, stupidly, "Right now?"

She grinned, cheeks and nose pink from the cold. "Yep!"

Frank bit the middle finger of his tan leather glove and let it hang from his mouth as he tore open the small package. Nancy giggled at every face Frank exhausted while he first shifted the ribbon off, saw a glimpse of what was inside, snapped the ribbon in frustration, ripped the final piece of paper away, and finally took in the gift.

"Christmas lights?" he asked, dropping his glove on the driveway.

"Open the box, genius."

He did, and groaned as he extracted hunks of tissue paper; Nancy collected all the garbage, including the leather glove, and stuffed it into the pocket of his blue suede jacket. "Thanks," he muttered as he finally freed his present. "Oh my god." Nancy beamed and huddled next to Frank to view it with him.

In a black walnut frame was a photograph of him and Nancy with New York City sprawled out behind them, hundreds of feet below. It was on the observation deck of the Empire State building. Nancy was holding a white beret to her head, eyes tightly closed in laughter while Frank held her close with one arm, nose buried in her hair as he kissed her temple. It had been taken a year before just after a case.

Frank felt almost guilty having such an intimate piece of their ambiguous past in his hands. It didn't feel right to hold on to it when Nancy had insisted that they could never be together. He had even told her he wanted to be with her. In Egypt, he knew, if not more times. "Nancy, I can't accept this," he said quietly.

"I come all the way to the East Coast to give you a crappy little box, and you don't want it?" she asked incredulously, apparently not noticing his tangle. Hilarity infiltrated her tone, and a crooked smile seemed frozen on her lips.

Frank sighed, the heavy breath visible as a large white puff. "What would Ned say if he saw this picture?"

Nancy's eyes were sharp for a moment, a look usually reserved for their plotters' glances during a kidnapping situation. She looked at her boots, then met his eyes. "When Bess finally dug up the film from that trip and got it developed..." she trailed off, glancing to the side. "It was about Halloween. I had been telling Ned I'd be going to school in either Boston or Washington DC, so we were kind of holding off discussing the inevitable."

"Then Ned saw this and thought, oh good, here's a decent second reason to break up. It's not a complete waste," Frank finished for her. He kept his best poker face.

"You're heartless!" she said.

"But that's what happened," he said more than asked.

"Very roughly and exaggeratedly, yes, that's about what happened." Nancy seemed aggravated, and she adjusted the bag in her arms as if she were getting ready to leave. "God forbid I should bore you with the grueling de—"

"When did you get here?" Frank suddenly burst, gesturing to the house. Everything was too perfect, too good to be true, and his instincts were making him suspicious. There wasn't a light remark in his head, much less a flighty confession of love that would most likely blow up in his face. There had to be something more; there had to be a catch.

"—tails." Nancy glowered at him expectantly, probably figuring he could deduce it himself as the great detective who had hardly let her explain herself anyway.

Grabbing his shovel, he went back to work. "You got here last night after a late flight, after Joe and I had gone to sleep. I got up first this morning, like I usually do on weekends, but I didn't see any evidence that you were here because I came out through the garage. Mom and Dad probably already knew you were coming." She raised her eyebrows at him, lips pursed. He stopped shoveling again. "All right, they invited you."

"Elementary."

"That seems a little elaborate for you. Are you sure Joe didn't help you plan that?"

"Are you going to keep being a sarcastic asshole or tell me that you love me too?" When Frank looked up again, he saw tears trembling in Nancy's eyes. The sight knocked the breath from him much in the same manner a blow to the solar plexus might have.

Joe chose the opportune moment to exit the house wearing a frayed robe and clunky ski boots. "Morning!" he called. Nancy didn't wait for Frank and swept into the house past Joe. He had apparently already known she was there because his look of shock was very mild and slightly amused. "Where's the paper?"

Frank drove his shovel angrily into a particularly stubborn chunk of ice and forced it in with his foot. A moment later, he lifted up the fragment and thrust it at Joe. Encased in the ice was a newspaper. With a quick twist of the handle, Frank dumped the ice, where it shattered over Joe's plastic boots. Joe nudged the soggy paper with his toe. "Never mind," he said. He looked back to Frank with a composed, interested face. "I'll finish up here. Get your sarcastic ass in the house."

Frank frowned and wondered briefly how long Joe had been eavesdropping on them. "Thanks," he said, handing Joe the shovel and darting through the door.

"Nancy!" he called, then stopped short when he saw her sitting at the base of the stairs with her elbows on her knees. She had removed all her outdoor wear except for her scarf, which Frank now saw was actually the thick collar of her sweater. Her hair obstructed her face, so he had no way of telling what she'd do or say, or even how she might feel. His only clue was her slumped but rigid posture and, he saw behind the curtain of titian hair, she was looking at the photograph. He decided against weighing his options and immediately kneeled down to embrace her. "I'm sorry," he said into her ear.

So it wasn't anything completely unbelievable, he reasoned. Here Nancy was, as real as anything and wrapped up in his arms. And here he was, judgment clouded by, as Nancy had said, 'heartless' detective intuition. Just like he and Joe were constantly reminding each other, their people skills were severely lacking. Not because they were socially inept geeks by nature, but because of something ignorant in the human heart. Something that never had a chance to develop between solving mysteries and risking their necks.

But, he thought, at least he and Nancy still found their way. The thought that he had almost thrown that away made Frank tighten his hold on her. "Go to Boston," he said eventually, "because I don't feel like applying to George Washington University."

She pulled back with wide, dry eyes. After opening and closing her mouth several times, she squeaked, "Okay." They both erupted in laughter, hugging again excitedly. Frank barely noticed the front door opening and closing.

"Oh christ, I'm going to throw up."

"Shut up, Joe."

For the picture this is from, remove the spaces from this address: http : / / hellzgranny . deviantart . com / art / Frank - Hardy - and - Nancy - Drew - 73684486

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