This was written for a challenge over at livejournal! Enjoy!

I hope everyone has a wonderful Christmas!

He still wasn't back. Shivering and weary, Nancy awoke to that certainty, fear swelling in her heart at the thought of where her boyfriend could be. He had left hours ago; concern etched on his face at the worsening state of her injured leg, the graze of stubble against her cheek her last conscious memory of him. Nancy had begged him not to go, had pleaded with him to stay with her, wrapped in the warm cocoon of blankets and sheets heaped on the cold concrete floor, their captor's only concession to comfort. But Ned had steadfastedly refused, determined in his quest to save them from this, a neglectful guard and a rusty lock making it all too easy for him to escape out into the night. He had been worried about her, she knew, her energy slowly waning as the blood seeped unrelentlessly from the gaping wound. There were no doctors here, much less medicine and the hastily improvised bandage was sadly lacking, the extent of the injury necessitating surgery or stitches at the very least and not this ragged length of material, the blood having long penetrated the threadbare surface.

Now it was Nancy's turn to be worried about Ned. It was dangerous outside, the harsh landscape as cruel and unforgiving as the men who prowled through it, fierce rifles strapped to their backs and knives slung in their pockets and Nancy knew they were not shy about using their weapons, the bloodied wound on her leg a testament to this.

Though Nancy had no real idea of time, she knew it had been hours since Ned had left. It had been inky dark when he had crept silently from their makeshift prison and now the faint beginnings of the day were just beginning to stir, the sky having faded to murky-blue. Rubbing her eyes wearily, Nancy sat up with difficulty, wondering what the hell had possessed her to fall asleep like that, especially when Ned was out there alone, battling god only knows what. But Nancy was tired, and dizzy from blood loss and it was only inevitable she would have given into her exhaustion at some point. Her leg didn't even hurt that much anymore, the bitter cold and the pit of worry in her stomach overtaking any physical pain she could have felt

It wasn't meant to be like this, Nancy thought in despair, resting her aching head against the cold, brick wall. The case was supposed to be easy, a bit of a pre-Christmas holiday and they had just succeeded in locating the last crucial piece of evidence, when the steady pulse of boots crunching through the snow sent the group scattering in all directions. The sound of gunfire followed the footsteps and that was the last thing Nancy remembered before waking up terror-stricken and cold, Ned holding her in his arms and murmuring to her comfortingly.

Now he was gone and it was all her fault. Frank had succeeded in getting away and though Ned denied it and Nancy didn't remember it, she was certain he would have made it too, would have escaped from all this, if he hadn't rushed to her side after the fateful shot.

Where the hell is he?

She had never expected him to be gone for so long and every time she heard the echo of voices or the tread of footsteps on the stairs, she jumped, terrified the guards would burst into the room and discover him gone. So far, they had been lucky, no one had checked on them in hours but Nancy knew that time was running out and someone was bound to come investigating soon.

It was so cold. The crumbling house was dark and damp and though the temperatures were well below freezing, the building was pitifully heated. Icicles hung like crystals from the window and the air was so cold, her breath came out in little puffs of vapor. Snowflakes were drifting heavily down and Nancy dreaded to think about how deep the snowfall was outside, which was yet another obstacle to consider.

Hearing a shuffling at the door, Nancy's body stiffened instantaneously. But the movements were hesitant and uncertain, not at all like the confident swagger of the guards and when Nancy saw Frank Hardy poke his head around the door, she almost collapsed in relief.

"Thank God you're here, Frank," Nancy mumbled gratefully, throwing her arms around her friend, the tears that had been threatening all along suddenly springing to her eyes. She hated being like this, trapped and defenseless in the small prison room, hated not knowing what was going on but most of all she hated that she didn't know where Ned was, didn't know whether he was dead or alive.

"Hey, it's okay, Nancy," Frank said gently, dropping to her side and wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulder.

"No, it's not," she sighed miserably, rubbing angrily at her eyes with tight, balled-up fists. "Ned's gone and I don't know where he is."

"I'm sure he's fine," Frank spoke reassuringly, though his body language told another story. The guards had already proven they had a mean, viscous streak and Nancy dreaded to think what their reaction would be, if they happened upon the unwelcome intruder and judging by the look on his face, Frank was obviously thinking something pretty similar.

"How is your leg," Frank asked gently, suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of protectiveness towards his friend. Nancy had always been such a strong person and it was unnerving to see her in such a vulnerable state.

"It really hurts," Nancy admitted forlornly, gingerly lifting the blanket, not missing the way Frank's face flinched as he took in the bloodied state of her leg.

"Fuck, that looks bad, Nan," he winced, "It must hurt like hell."

"Just a little," she joked weakly, her face screwed up in pain as she carefully adjusting the blood-sodden bandage.

"Don't worry, Nancy," Frank reassured her almost desperately, disturbed by the pained look on her face. "We're going to get you out of here. Do you think you could manage to walk on your leg?"

Nodding vehemently, Nancy struggled to her feet, stars exploding behind her eyes as an almost blinding pain shot through her knee.

"Here, grab hold of me," Frank instructed her worriedly, wrapping a strong arm around her shoulder and supporting her weight on him. "How is that?"

"Okay," she gasped, already dizzy with pain, wondering how the hell she'd make it to the door, much less get out of here alive.

Half-shuffling, half-hopping, Nancy clung onto Frank, the worn remains of a carpet dampening their footsteps and though voices traveled up the set of narrow stairs, the hall appeared to be mercifully unoccupied.

"We need to get out of here now," Frank muttered almost to himself, wincing when he spotted the pained expression in her eyes. She really was worryingly pale and though Nancy was a strong, capable person, he doubted what sort of fight she could put up in her current state. "Are you sure you can manage this?" he asked, certain the mere question would evoke a fiery reaction from her but was surprised when Nancy merely shrugged.

She was exhausted, sick of fighting and just wanted to find Ned and get the hell out of here.

Momentarily resisting, Nancy eventually gave in as Frank bundled her into his arms, her head resting wearily on his shoulder. "You'll regret this," she warned, her voice barely a whisper. "I'll kill your back,"

"Nancy, I've lifted suitcases heavier than you," Frank smiled dismissively, as he shifted her weight and ventured silently out onto the narrow, winding hallway, a finger to his lips gesturing at her to be quiet.

The clinking of glasses and their voices high spirited and boisterous, the guards below seemed to be enjoying a celebration of sorts. She could hear laughing and singing, the men shouting over one another in to be heard and suddenly the reason they hadn't been checked on in hours became very clear.

Creeping down the stairs, Frank was grateful for the dim light that allowed them to hide in the shadows. In a house so old, it was inevitable that one would creak so every step was a minefield; Frank never knowing which misplaced foot could betray them. A last dash for the door and then they were outside the pair seeking cover behind the ruins of an old outhouse, Frank collapsing to his knees and laying Nancy out on the snow, her red-gold hair like fire against the white.

"Stay here and I'll go back to look for Ned," he whispered firmly and look in his eyes told her it wasn't a request but a demand.

"Be careful," she murmured softly, throwing her arms around his neck and giving him one last hug before he left.

Pulling her coat tightly around her, Nancy shivered as she rested against the wall. Sleep was tempting but she didn't allow herself give in to it, choosing instead to gaze up at the falling snow, her eyes almost hypnotized by the swirling, dancing white. She didn't feel so cold anymore, the cold that had permeated her every bone while locked in that room suddenly seemed muted, much less palpable, which struck Nancy as odd considering she hadn't so much as a blanket out here to keep warm.

Feeling a warm, stickiness on her leg, Nancy looked down and was fascinated to see the shining, crimson red, melt into the icy snow. It was surreal, like it wasn't really happening to her, Nancy feeling like she was monitoring a medical experiment or watching an episode of E.R. It didn't hurt and it should have given that Nancy was sure she had never seen this much blood before, outside of on some horror movie on the television, during which she would have clung terrified to Ned, her head darting for cover into the comfort of his chest.

Ned. Thinking of him, Nancy realized how much she needed him to be with her now. He would kiss and hold her, make her feel better just by the comfort of his words and the warmth of his touch. She loved him so much and Nancy realized that she would sell her soul right now, just to get the chance to speak those words to him again and see the look in his eyes as she kissed him long and deep.

The snow seemed to be coming down harder now, her view obliterated by the blinding, almost ethereal white. She couldn't see the trees anymore or the house, just the vast, falling white and suddenly she knew that everything was going to be okay.

xxxxx

Their footsteps crisscrossing the snow, Frank and Ned walked thoughtfully through the frosted white, each on the alert for any sign of danger. The snowfall had dwindled away to almost nothing but it was still icy cold and Ned quickened his pace slightly, not liking the idea of Nancy being exposed to the elements like this, especially in her current condition. His face was battered and bruised and a slight cut above his eye oozed blood but he had otherwise escaped relatively unscathed, Ned figuring that his captor had definitely been on the receiving end of the worst deal in the scuffle. The euphoria of his escape fading, Ned was suddenly desperate to see Nancy, the memory of her blood soaked bandages still fresh in his memory.

"Are we almost there?" he asked, as he impatiently kicked through the deep snowdrift, every footstep a battle. It was almost morning and Ned knew time was running out; that as soon as the sun hit the bright, white snow, it would be over and any chance they had of escaping out of this alive would be gone.

"Over there," he replied, gesturing at a tumbledown outhouse, the roof long gone, pale yellow weeds and grass sprouting from the brickwork. "Nancy's around the back."

The final hurdle reached, Ned practically raced to the stone building, his steps stumbling and awkward as he struggled through the deep snow.

"Nancy," he called out almost desperately, rushing to her side, sudden fear penetrating his heart when she failed to respond.

"Nancy," he tried again, this time a little more forcefully, dropping to her side and placing his hand over hers.

It was cold, he noticed, her lips having acquired a slight bluish tinge that he knew couldn't be good.

"What's wrong?" Frank asked worriedly and it was only then Ned noticed the other man kneeling in the snow beside him, his eyes fixed on Nancy as though hoping she would get up suddenly, laughing at how easily they were taken in.

But she didn't and Ned leaned in closer, brushing away the tangled lengths of hair from her face and whispering softly in her ear, the way he always did when she was hurt, not caring that Frank Hardy was behind him and could hear every word. "Baby, wake up, " he pleaded softly, gently tracing his fingers down her cheek. "We need to get you out of here."

Pushing Ned aside, Frank gently leaned in and placed his fingers against her neck

"What the hell do you think you are doing, Hardy?" Ned demanded, knowing but finding it infinitely easier to be angry with Frank than accept that his girlfriend could be dying in front of him, could well be already dead.

"I can't feel anything," he muttered disbelievingly, pressing his fingers harder against her skin, as though willing some life into her lifeless form. "There's no pulse."

"You're wrong," Ned shot back defiantly, taking Frank's place and placing his now trembling fingers on the soft hollow of her neck that she loved him to kiss. "Nancy will be fine. We just need to get her out of here and she'll be fine."

Though the words gave him comfort, the truth was he could find no pulse either, no matter how hard he pressed against her skin or inwardly prayed, begged for her to give him some response.

"There's got to be something I can do," he muttered brokenly, looking to Frank for reassurance. "If we get her out of here now and get her to a hospital, she might make it," he suddenly decided, the words spilling out in a frenzied rush.

Frank didn't answer but the look on his face said it all. She was gone and no hospital or team of doctors in the world could save her now. The snow started to come down heavier after that, the flakes landing on their clothes and melting cold and miserably into their skin but neither made any move to go, the sun taking it's place in the morning sky, illuminating everything around them.