Written for Nancy Drew Yuletide 2011.

Riverrun was a beautiful little community, even in the dim predawn. Trim, well-appointed cottages lined the shore, the lawns occupied by the occasional swingset. Tall stately pines clustered in the curves of the road, their branches waving in the wind. The sky was the faintest blue, the sun barely above the horizon.

Carson Drew didn't see any of it. His strong jaw was set as he negotiated the turns, pulling onto the rough trail to the riverside rental cabins fast enough to send gravel spinning into the ditch. A chilling mist hung in the thick air.

The police hadn't been able to tell him how long Nancy's car, disabled by two flat tires, had been on the side of the roadway, abandoned. They had been able to tell him, their mouths thin grim slashes in their sallow faces, that bullets had caused the flats.

Bullets. Bullets aimed at his baby girl's car.

Her cabin had no phone, and his repeated calls to the camp's switchboard had gone unanswered. Carson had barely stopped the car before he was launching himself out, at a dead run. Before he had even pounded his fist on the door for the first time, he was already planning what to do if she wasn't here, if he needed to start at the car and direct a search. What if she was hurt, in the woods; the car had been a few miles away, but what if whoever had shot at her had managed to abduct her—

The same panicked litany began every time he began to lose his tight control. Carson thinned his lips and pounded on the door again, his stomach tense with worry.

The door opened under his fist. Ned Nickerson stood there, blinking into the glare of the paling sky. His brown hair and his t-shirt and pants were rumpled from sleep. The boy's eyes were sharp, watchful, until he recognized Nancy's father.

Carson's mouth opened and closed, as Ned cleared his throat. "Mr. Drew," he said.

"Is Nancy—"

"Dad," Nancy said, tossing back the covers on the bed. She wore a long gown trimmed at the hem, sleeves and neck in some frivolous lace. Ned moved out of the way just in time; Carson rushed to his daughter, enfolding her in a hug before pulling back.

"Nancy? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she reassured him, pushing her hair back. "What's wrong?"

"The car—"

"Oh," Nancy and Ned said together, and Carson glanced between the two of them, his brow slightly furrowed.

"The police called me," he explained. "They found your car. I had no idea where you were. Nancy— can I talk to you?"

Nancy nodded, then glanced over at Ned, who self-consciously ran his fingers through his hair. "I'll go see if I can find us some breakfast," he said.

Nancy excused herself and vanished into the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later in a shirtdress, looking much fresher and more awake. Carson was sitting on the bed, gazing down at the pallet of rumpled blankets on the floor near the window.

"So what happened last night," he said, and glanced up at his daughter.

He could see no sign of shame or embarrassment in her, but then she had almost never acted that way, unless she was exposed to profuse adoration. She sat down beside him, smoothing her skirt, and tucked her hair behind her ears.

"Well, we all went to the dance at the yacht club," she began. "George and Bess and Helen, and Ned and I. One of Ned's fraternity brothers invited us all to a house party at the lake, and we accepted. Ned and I were getting into my car when we saw Marjorie Allen. She—"

"Is a known associate of Elias Trotter," Carson finished for her, his gaze narrowing.

Nancy nodded. With one finger she picked at a loose thread in the comforter. "Ned and I followed them, but a long black car came up behind us. We heard some loud popping noises—gunshots. The car... well, you know what happened to the car. There was no way to follow, at that point. We started walking back here, because we were closer, but the black car came back by. We had to duck into the bushes."

Carson nodded. "And how exactly did this result in Ned sleeping in here."

Nancy alternately turned white and red, then clasped her hands hard in her lap. She cleared her throat. "We were both worried that whoever had shot at us would come back to finish the job. Ned... asked if he could sleep in here. He was afraid something would happen to me and he wouldn't be here to do anything about it. He was adamant. And he slept on the floor," she said, nodding at the blankets. "He was a perfect gentleman."

"Nancy..."

A knock sounded on the door. Carson answered it and found Ned standing there, a grocery sack in his arms. He set three bottles of orange juice and a paper sack of biscuits on the table, wordlessly, then turned to face Nancy and her father.

He swallowed visibly.

"Nancy tells me you two were threatened last night," Carson said, and only Nancy knew him well enough to hear that slight tightness in his voice.

Ned glanced at Nancy. "We were, sir," he said, and shrugged out of his coat.

Carson shook his head. "Elias Trotter is a very dangerous man. You were lucky to escape so easily, and I'm sure that if you have raised his suspicions, you'll have to be on your guard until he's safely behind bars. I was prepared to cancel my trip to Boston this afternoon if you were missing, but this might be an even more compelling reason."

"No, no," Nancy said, shaking her head. "Dad, you should go. I would love to have your help, but Ned and I..."

Carson looked between the two of them. Each seemed to visibly shrink beneath his gaze.

"I'm very worried about you, Nancy. You have to be careful. I would feel far more comfortable if Trotter was behind bars."

"As soon as we can find him, that's where he will be."

Carson considered for a moment. "You call me if you run into trouble, Nan, and I will be on the next plane."

Nancy nodded. "I promise."

"And when I get back, the three of us," Carson said, glancing between Nancy and Ned, "are going to sit down and have a long talk."

Ned swallowed again. "Yes, sir," he said faintly.

Nancy's car wasn't in the driveway.

Ned parked his car, letting it idle for a moment before switching it off. He checked his reflection in the side mirror, tightened his tie, and adjusted the shoulder of his sport coat. Then, for the fifth time that day, he considered fleeing the country.

He rang the doorbell and by the time it was answered, Ned's heart was already ready to beat out of his chest. Then he saw Carson Drew standing there in his shirtsleeves, and his mouth went dry.

"Ned," Carson said, stepping back. "Come in. Hannah and Nancy are out running errands."

Ned had a sudden vision of a freshly dug grave in the backyard just waiting for him. He stepped past Nancy's father, sweltering under his jacket.

Carson led Ned to his study and shut the door behind him. The window was open, and a light breeze barely touched the stillness in the room. Ned took the overstuffed chair in front of the desk, and Carson settled in behind it, taking his time. Letting Ned sweat some more.

Carson glanced at Ned with a look of mild surprise. "I apologize. Hannah has spoiled me. Would you like something to drink?"

"Some water," Ned managed to say, and fought the urge to rise when Carson did.

Ned had downed half the glass of iced water when Carson, hands on the desk in front of him, fingers steepled, said, "I would like to know what your intentions are toward my daughter."

Ned cleared his throat. "I beg your pardon?"

Carson's eyes narrowed. "I believe that question was entirely clear."

"My intentions... are entirely honorable."

"And that's an excellent way to say nothing."

Ned began to pick at a hangnail, then stopped himself. "Can I speak frankly, sir?"

"I'd prefer that you did."

"I—and I believe Nancy is fully aware of this, even if she doesn't acknowledge it—I would sincerely ask for your permission to ask for her hand in marriage. Were she at all interested."

Carson raised an eyebrow. "You believe she isn't?"

"I think... that she is perfectly content with our relationship just the way it is."

"But I'm not," Carson said bluntly, and Ned almost choked. "While I fully understand your reasons for doing so, it was highly, monstrously inappropriate for you to spend the night in my daughter's room. You're her steady escort and she spends an inordinate amount of time with you. I'd like to believe she has some fondness for you. But this... no. This isn't enough."

Just then they heard the front door open, but Carson kept his gaze on Ned's face. "Wait here," he told the younger man.

Ned could hear Nancy's laughter as she and Hannah entered, and he slipped out of his jacket, sighing in relief as he rolled up his shirtsleeves. Nancy came in, her blue eyes seeking Ned's face, and sat down in the chair near his. Carson sat back down and glanced between the two of them.

"Nancy, according to Ned, his intentions are entirely honorable."

Ned couldn't stop himself from glancing over at Nancy, in time to see her flush scarlet. "He's always been a perfect gentleman with me," she said, sounding very much as though she had said that before.

Carson sighed and laced his fingers together again. "I like to think that I'm a very generous parent. I don't keep you under my thumb, and I believe I've raised you well, that you have the intelligence to make the right choices when I'm not around. I've watched the relationship between the two of you for quite a while, and I've been pleased to have such a fine man escorting my daughter.

"But this recent lapse in your judgement, Nancy—in both your judgements, is inexcusable."

Nancy's hands twisted in her lap. "Nothing happened," she insisted, and Ned nodded.

"I begged her to let me stay there. It's my fault."

"It is your fault," Carson told Ned. "For insisting. And Nancy, it's your fault for not insisting that he leave you alone there. It looks impossibly damning. You have to understand that."

Nancy opened her mouth and closed it without saying anything.

"I'm not foolish enough to believe this was the first time, either. And even if you swear that it was, there will be another time, another situation, another one of your cases.

"Ned, I can't fault you for trying to keep my daughter safe. I can't. But I can fault you for doing so in such a reckless manner."

He sighed soundlessly. "The two of you need to make some sort of long-term commitment to each other. And if either of you is unable, I would strongly suggest that you stop helping so much with Nancy's cases, Ned."

Nancy and Ned glanced at each other.

"I don't mean," Carson said, then swallowed hard, "a firm engagement. The understanding that it would happen one day would be enough for me. But if the two of you find yourselves in such a compromising position again... I will expect to see definite steps in that direction."

Nancy's blue eyes went impossibly wide, and she glanced back at her father. Ned looked away.

Carson pushed himself to his feet. "Let me go see what Hannah is planning for dinner. You're welcome to stay for it, Ned," he said, and closed the door behind him.

The irony wasn't lost on her, that after he had chastised her so thoroughly, he was leaving her alone with Ned. Granted, neither of them were in improper attire, and it was the middle of the day.

Ned took a long breath, but he didn't say anything. Nancy tugged at the hem of her dress, then glanced up at Ned. His brow was furrowed and he looked almost pained.

"So," he said.

"So," she repeated.

He reached for her hand. "Nancy, I want you to understand that I've always—"

She shook her head, and his grip tightened on her. "Please," she said softly. "Please don't."

"Do you think if I don't say it, that will change it?" Ned's jaw was tight.

She nodded. "I care about you," she began. "I really do. And I know Dad's upset, but as long as we just make sure nothing like this happens again—"

"That wasn't all he asked for," Ned reminded her.

"But it's what's important. As long as we're careful—"

"Forever," he said quietly, and she nodded.

"Yeah. Forever."

Ned sighed. "I can't be careful forever. For the longest time now I've known that I want to—"

She shook her head again. "You want a wife," she said. "A family. Dinner on the table."

He nodded uncertainly.

"I've never... I've never wanted that kind of life for myself. I've never seen myself that way. While I do care about you... I can't... I can't do what Dad's asking. I can't say that this will ever end in our being engaged. And I'm sorry."

Ned scrubbed his hands over his face. "Why didn't you just tell me," he said.

"I tried," she replied. "But I never wanted to hurt you. I just thought that if I avoided the question enough times, you would figure it out."

"I thought you understood," he said. "I thought... Nancy, I love spending time with you. I love helping you out on your cases. But... it's because of how I feel about you. But it just doesn't matter."

Nancy felt sick. Ned's handsome face was pale, his gaze almost stricken. "I like spending time with you, too," she told him. "And you are so helpful on cases."

"So what," he said. "So could any other man."

Nancy looked down. "We can just wait," she said softly. "Until this has blown over."

"And then what," he said, glancing back up at her. "Really, and then what? I help you out until you or I find someone else, and then it's over? Because if it's like this, there will always be some point where it's over."

"Not our friendship. Not our being friends. That won't be over."

"It will be if that's all you feel about me," he said. "Because I'll always want more. I always have. And your father knows that."

"So when we were together in that room..."

He ducked his head a little. "If you... how could you not feel it, how much I..."

Nancy shook her head. "No."

"So you don't feel it." He took her hand again and at the contact, at the touch of her skin against hers, she had to fight down a small shiver. She tugged a little and he released her, his brown eyes dark and intense.

"This is why I never wanted to talk about this," she said softly. "I can't... I can't promise and I hate the way you're looking at me right now."

Even so, he kept his gaze on her for another moment, then began rolling down his shirtsleeves. "Okay," he said, and his voice sounded almost strangled.

"Ned—"

He shook his head. "It's better to know," he told her, rising to his feet. "That I've been wasting this time."

Nancy choked. "Ned, it hasn't been a waste—"

"Hasn't it?" His jaw was set, and he pulled his coat back on. "If you... if you do need help on a case, and I'm around... I think we can do that, but... but I suppose that's all."

His hand lingered on the doorknob. Nancy twisted her hands so hard in her lap that they turned white.

"That's what you want," he said, and with one last glance at her, he was gone.