shedetect-archive / @nancydrcw.
𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎. she hadn’t expected any communication at all, considering how their last talk had gone. the way he’d left her house, the silence that had followed… even carson’s questions about why he was leaving had gone unanswered. she’d been silent at dinner that night, and breakfast the next morning, and every meal that followed. she could tell hannah and her father were whispering their concerns to one another, but neither of them asked nancy directly, and for once, she was grateful to be left alone. her solitude was all she had left.
the text was the first time she’d picked up her phone in the days since the break up. was it even that? it wasn’t like they’d say so. and while even bess’s messages had gone unanswered, she certainly couldn’t avoid this. she didn’t want to, either. there’d been a chill in the air that ned had left in his wake, and while nancy wasn’t sure she was going to feel any better after this meeting, she certainly wasn’t going to deny ned anything he asked of her now.
but she was clearly off of her game when she was confronted with ned’s older sister. there was no doubt in her mind that andrea knew everything, so when the eldest nickerson stepped out onto the porch instead of inviting her inside, nancy wasn’t going to argue. maybe it was the habit of disuse that kept her silent, arms crossed tight in the mirror image of andrea’s stance, though there was a clear difference here — one of them held power, and for once in her life, it wasn’t nancy.
there’s no relief at ned’s appearance, only minimal once andrea leaves, and all the redhead can do is nod slowly before following him around to the familiar backyard. how many summer days had they spent back here, playing softball with his sisters or laying out to read…
she has to shake the memory now, focusing on ned standing in front of her. for the first time in days, she opens her mouth to speak. “i’m… glad you text me.” but was she, really?
𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙡, 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙢 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙞𝙩, 𝙩𝙤𝙤. but he doesn’t push it on her — doesn’t ask her to sit. he looks out over the river, long legs swinging a bit idly over the wall, sneakers brushing lightly against the city’s overgrown bank of grass. he shrugs. “ 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚞𝚙, ” he says. “ 𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛. ” long-gone are those days of letting her get away with blowing him off, apparently; that filter isn’t there anymore.
he never really feels like she doesn’t want to talk to him, to be fair, not even over the long years they’ve dated because, to be fair, a lot of the time, he’s just as bad as she is about replying to texts. calling people back is one thing he’s good at, and she’s fairly good at it, too — they get along well that way. but that’s about it, and sometimes she’s bad at that. or, she’s just bad at it with him. he’s never sure over the years because joe will mention talking with nancy during times when ned texts her on cases, asking questions or just wanting to check in, and she never gets back to him. ned never thinks too much about it. he’s helpful, he supposes, but he’s not a detective like frank and joe, so naturally nancy would seek out their help. they’re all friends, too. yeah, he never thinks too much about it.
“ 𝚒 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 — 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚒 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎. ” he’s thankful the emotion seems so removed from his voice. he feels like he’s just researching — just seeking out answers, heart apart from everything. easier, safer — nothing like himself.
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