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naceisonthecase · 3 years

Text

Summary: Basically, red string of fate but make it supernatural.

Word Count: 5,218

[Read on AO3]

@aceandnancy @bughead-bones @ismokechurros @nacegolden @nocturne-alley

🔎

The Red String of Fate: Fact or Fiction? The title of the article read. Nancy couldn’t read anymore, not even if it was Bess who had sent it and was most likely going to broach the subject as soon as she came downstairs. Grabbing her bag off the hook she left her room and headed down the stairs.

“Good morning Nancy!” Her dad and Ryan echoed as she entered the kitchen. This was still taking some time to get used to, her two dads side by side drinking coffee and cooking breakfast as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Which, Nancy thought, would explain the state and smell of the kitchen.

“Morning,” Nancy replied. She moved through the kitchen toward Carson, letting him wrap his arms around her. As he moved away Nancy spied a circle of red around his pinky finger. “What happened to your finger?” Her eyes wandered away from the mark on his finger, the same size and shape of his wedding ring, scanning his face for any sort of incriminating clues.

“Must have burned it when helping Ryan cook.” He said, nonchalantly. He shook his hand as if that would erase the mark.

“That’s unusual for a burn. It’s a perfect circle.” Nancy had grabbed her father’s hand and was turning it back and forth to observe it more completely. “Does it hurt?”

Carson wrestled his hand back. Placing both hands on Nancy’s shoulders he held his daughter at arm’s length. “It’s just a burn, Nancy. Nothing serious, nothing supernatural.” Another thing that would take some getting used to -- her dad knowing about the weird, paranormal happenings around their seaside town. “And, no it doesn’t hurt. Not even a little.”

Nancy nodded at her father, not quite convinced, and he released her. She wandered over to a cabinet and grabbed a mug to pour herself a cup of coffee. The action caused a small red object to be knocked off the countertop. Her coffee momentarily forgotten, Nancy bent down and picked it up. A spool of red thread. How did it get there? Who did it belong to?

“What’s this?” She showed the spool to Carson. He had started dishing himself up a plate of food and squinted at the object in Nancy’s hand.

“It's a spool of thread. Probably belonged to your mother.”

“Mom didn’t sew.”

Carson shrugged. “We’ve reached our before breakfast question quota. Can we discuss it after we eat?”

Nancy put the spool back on the counter and turned to Ryan. He was wearing an apron and a gaudy chef’s hat standing by the stove with a spatula in hand.

It would have been comical if it wasn’t so disastrous.

“You want some,” Ryan asked proudly, showcasing his burnt scrambled eggs as if they were a masterpiece.

Nancy screwed up her face. “I think I’ll pass.” She said, finally pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“They aren’t as bad as they look or smell.” Nancy turned to see Bess seated at the breakfast table. She had a plate of burnt eggs, bacon, and toast in front of her and was smiling around a mouthful of food.

“Nancy, you have to eat something,” Carson said, passing by Nancy to seat himself down by Bess.

“I’m fine with just coffee. I’ll just get something at The Claw,” she said, shrugging off her father’s recommendation. She snuck a look at her phone to check the time. “Speaking of, Bess, I think we should get a move on. You know how George is when we’re late.”

“You think it’s a good idea to go back to work so soon after…” The rest of Carson’s sentence faded away, the implication of after hanging heavy in the air.

“Yeah, Nancy, George ok’d your extended absence. Just as she did Ace’s.” Bess was quick to add, filling the silence.

At the mention of his name, Nancy’s hand tightened around her mug, her stomach spinning. She put the mug back down on the counter. She hadn’t mentioned her dreamscape or the part each of them played in the journey to any of her friends. The closest she had come was Ace, and that hadn’t gone as planned.

“It's been weeks. I need some semblance of normalcy back in my life, and that means,” Nancy swung her bag over her shoulder so it hung across her body, “returning for my usual shift at The Claw.”

“Remember, you can come home at any time.”

The smoke alarm chose then to blare its angry head. Carson rushed off to the smoke alarm, ordering Ryan to begin opening windows around the house.

“And, I think that’s our cue to leave,” Nancy said to Bess, speaking louder over the wails going off in her house.

Bess nodded, just as happy to escape the chaoticness of the household as Nancy was. She reached for a napkin that was laying on her lap, dabbing at her lips politely as if she were dining at a fancy restaurant, and quickly went off to get her belongings.

🔎

“Don’t you think it’s quite romantic though?” Bess said, continuing the conversation they were having on the ride over about the article she had sent Nancy.

“It sure is something.”

Bess gasped, a hand flying to her chest in shock. “You don’t believe in soulmates?” She nearly screeched.

“Love I believe in,” Nancy said, approaching the door to The Claw, “but soulmates…there’s no proof.” Nancy pushed open the door to The Claw. Her gaze travelled over the room -- she spotted George and Nick at the bar. With Ace.

Ace was home? He wasn’t supposed to be home for another two weeks.

Nancy felt her throat constrict, she stood frozen in place. She thought facing him with these new fully realized feelings would be difficult enough standing on his front stoop, a rehearsed speech at the ready, but that didn’t hold a candle to seeing him unexpectedly here amongst their friends in a familiar environment and completely lost for words.

Ace looked up at the door at the sound of the chime. He beamed when he saw his two friends but his eyes remained on Nancy longer, Bess having already sauntered into the restaurant and over to the bar, wrapping her arms around Ace from behind, Ace’s hand coming up to pat her arm. His concentration broke off Nancy for the time being.

Nancy took a deep breath, then crossed the threshold.

Out of Bess’s hold, Ace was off his stool and was coming towards her before Nancy was even halfway across the restaurant. She froze in her tracks.

“Hey, Nancy!”

“Hey, Ace! Uh, how was your trip? How is...how is Amanda?” She felt a sudden prick against her finger, nothing more than a needlepoint but it made her look down anyway. Her finger was snagged in her bag buckle and she yanked it free.

“It was great.” She heard Ace saying And looked back up. “Amanda is good too.” It was as if he wanted to say more but shut his mouth instead.

They were such simple answers but it made her heart ache. The throbbing in her finger intensified and she jammed her hands into her coat pockets, slowly moving away.

“I should put my things in the back,” Nancy announced, walking away.

“Wait, Nancy.” He reached out a hand to stop her progress, his hand lingering on her arm. “How are you doing?”

She took a deep breath in before answering. “I’m alright.” She nodded, a faint smile tracing her lips. “Just recovering from nearly dying. So, you know, the usual.”

Ace nodded, not taking his hand or eyes off her. The pain in her finger had subsided, it was nothing more than pinched flesh after all. She was only thinking about it because she couldn’t allow her thoughts to settle on how Ace’s touch felt on her arm. Like his touch was meant to be there.

She gulped, trying to find her voice, and pulled away. “Ace, I need to go.”

She saw visible disappointment, concern, and curiosity flash through his eyes. Then she turned and disappeared into the kitchen. He stood there watching after her until Bess called him back to the bar to fill them in on his romantic getaway, and as a loyal platanchor he willingly obliged.

🔎

Nancy sat on the bench in front of the set of lockers. The kitchen was empty and she could spend the short time before her shift alone. And, Ace wasn’t yet in the kitchen, watching her from above.

He was with Amanda, and according to him, they were doing good. She couldn’t have these thoughts. She had to forget about this crush, or whatever it was, and move on. No matter how much she wanted to run her fingers through his gorgeous locks, again, or kiss him, and not an almost dreamscape kiss this time, she couldn’t act on it. She wouldn’t. She would just have to figure out a way to get through this shift without these feelings interfering and then figure out how to get over him.

“Drew, get your ass out here. We need you.” George called from the dining area signalling that her shift had begun.

She stood from the bench and smoothed down the front of her uniform, composing herself before heading out into the thick of it. Her first day back in weeks.

Ace was entering the kitchen as she was leaving, the two were in a dance for access to the door. He moved to his left, she moved to her right. Then vice versa. Eventually Ace allowed her enough room to scoot by, laughing. She felt his eyes on her back as she moved past. What greeted her on the other side was the typical Saturday lunch rush. She did want normalcy, she remembered, as she dug into her pocket for her notebook and flipped it open to a clean sheet to begin taking orders.

From there the hours became a blur of jotting down orders, filling and refilling water glasses, and polite smiles that she didn’t wholeheartedly feel. It was filled with lobster rolls, fried calamari, fish and chips, and The Claw’s famous clam chowder being passed from the kitchen to the awaiting customers. She was more or less in a state of workflow uncommon to her gig as a waitress when Nick stopped her, pulling her aside.

“Nancy, your hand looks serious.”

It had begun to hurt more, a constant pounding but she continued to play off as best she could even though the pain was getting to her. She looked down and saw that her finger was scratched up and bleeding, and a rash was beginning to spread through her entire hand.

“I must have been itching it. Not a big deal.”

George and Bess had gravitated towards her too and Ace had moved to the serving hatch, a cloth hung over his shoulder and his arms resting on the ledge. Great a full audience!

“I know first aid,” Ace piped up eagerly from the hatch, “I was a Boy Scout”

Nancy’s heartbeat quickened but she kept her voice steady as she said, “as much as I appreciate your concern, and I do, it’s just a few scratches. I can easily wash it up in the bathroom and be back in a minute.”

“You are not serving food with that,” George pointed in the direction of Nancy’s hand, a look of horror on her face.

“Oh, Nancy, it’s dripping!” Bess exclaimed, hands fluttering to her mouth. A few patrons close enough to be in earshot turned to see what the commotion was about.

Sure enough, during the few seconds of the conversation, it had gotten worse and now a green goo was emanating from the wound.

“Oh, ew,” Nancy said, extending her other hand quickly just in time to catch a glob before it fell to the floor.

“Take Ace up on his offer,” George ordered, nodding towards the kitchen, “then go home. The rest of you back to work.”

Nancy sighed. Keeping her mind preoccupied and not focusing on her crush on Ace hadn’t worked and now she was going to be in a room alone with him. Unprepared and in unknown territory. Then she winced and pulled her hand toward her chest. Her hand was in excruciating pain and she had to admit that it needed tending to. So, with a groan, she turned to meet him.

🔎

Ace was sitting on the bench searching around in the first aid kit when Nancy arrived in the back room.

“Let me take a closer look,” he said when he saw her paused at the top of the steps. He tucked his hair behind his ear, watching her descend the stairs and closing the distance between them.’God, that hair!’ she thought as she sat down beside him and extended her hand for him to inspect. “It looks like an infection. A gnarly one.”

“Gnarly?” Nancy said an awkward laugh in her voice. He smiled. She looked away. She couldn’t fall back into their usual behaviour no matter how easy and familiar it was.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing we can’t fix.” Ace said, picking up and ripping into the small packet, unfolding the wipe into the perfect square with such care.

She found herself staring too long at his hands as he took her own and wiped away the blood and grime from her skin. She flinched, shaking herself away from the memory of those fingers entwined in hers.

“Does it sting?” Ace’s hands slowed. Nancy shook her head. “Good,” he said, ripping into another packet. “Because this isn’t a one-and-done job.”

In the end, it took seven of the tiny wipes to clean the blood and green goopy mess. During which, Nancy had gone through all the symptoms she’d experienced with the lust butterflies, many times over. Although, fortunately for her, under better control. By the time Ace was applying a thin layer of an antibiotic ointment to the scratches she was wondering if he could feel how fast her pulse was racing, how sweaty her hand was in his or if he could see the heat upon her cheeks, and if he did, did he assume it was just a side effect from the infection or something more? After he secured the bandage in place he dropped his hands to his lap.

“All done.” He said, proudly. He admired his handiwork for a moment then looked up, meeting Nancy’s eye.

The two of them shared an extended moment of eye contact, his eyes so blue and portraying a deepness that many didn’t know the extent of, an ocean she was falling into. She scrambled to her feet at once conscious of how close she had gravitated to him. She had been practically sitting in his lap.

“Uh, thanks, Ace. It feels better already.” She felt herself falling back into those eyes, and pulled away before it could last any longer by heading for her locker. “I should be getting home.”

“I can give you a ride.” Ace said. Nancy popped off her lock and turned to look behind her. Ace was still on the bench, his hands balled together in his lap. He was rubbing his thumb against his other hand, watching her, eager for her to accept.

“It’s fine, Ace,” Nancy said. “I can walk. Bess can drive my car home.” She proceeded to shimmy into her jacket, careful not to upset her bandaged finger and fanned out her hair that had been trapped behind the collar. She then reached into her pocket for her car keys, putting them into her empty locker and writing a quick note, slipping it through the slates of Bess’s locker.

“Are you mad at me?”

Nancy faced Ace, her hands stilled on her coat buttons. “No--no I’m not mad at you.” She couldn’t take that sad, puppy dog-eyed look and busied herself with her coat.

“Then why have you been avoiding me all day?”

Nancy thought back on her shift as she continued with the buttons. When Ace was at the serving hatch she would wait until he was back at the sink before continuing her job. When she was in the kitchen she would ignore his calls and waves for her attention, And, if he was out in the dining area fetching something or chatting with George, Nick, or Bess she would take the longer route to where she was going. It hurt to stay away. It almost felt as if she was being pulled in his direction but she fought against that feeling.

“I--I wasn’t -- I haven’t been avoiding you.” Nancy lied.

“And, you’re letting Bess drive your car? She still drives on the wrong side of the road.”

“You should keep Florence here,” Nancy said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “For when you pick up Amanda from the hotel.”

“Um, Nancy, actually about that.” Ace started. He stood from the bench in an attempt to stop her but she had already made her exit through the back door.

Outside, Nancy leaned back on the wall of The Claw. Her eyes shut.

When did this become so hard?

Ace was her best friend. But she had to put a kibosh on these thoughts before it ruined what they had. And, luckily for her, she had a mystery on her hands to do just that. Literally.

🔎

Nancy hadn’t walked home. Instead, she had made the trek to The Historical Society. She had let herself in and found Hannah doing inventory.

“I need your help,” Nancy said after acquiring Hannah’s attention. She had her bandaged hand raised. When she had left The Claw it was, as she had told Ace, feeling significantly better but by the time she had reached The Historical Society the pain level was off the charts and the green goo was seeping through the bandaging. And, she was beginning to feel faint.

Hannah was at her side at once, immediately leading her over to a chair. She re-cleaned and bandaged the wound and handed Nancy a high-strength painkiller and a glass of water, which dulled the pain a bit. Hannah sat down across from her to hear the events that lead to this predicament.

“Hand me your bag.” Hannah requested after Nancy finished detailing the story. “I’m going to test the buckle for any supernatural or natural causes of this infection.” Nancy did as she was told, but the short litmus paper-type test turned up nothing of concern.

“Could it be something from the lockboxes, something I let out when I got the shroud? Which, again, I profusely apologize for.”

Hannah was silent for a moment, in thought. “This is nothing like anything I recall seeing or hearing about before. But we can take a look.” Hannah got up from the table and returned with an armload of gathered papers, records, and books that could be of use.

That had been four hours ago and still, there were no answers. And, her finger was again protesting loudly.

“I’m sorry, Nancy.” Hannah placed a hand on the younger woman's uninfected hand and squeezed it.

“It’s alright. We tried.” Nancy reassured her. “Actually, Hannah, while I’m here could we discuss something else?”

“Anything.”

Right now Nancy needed motherly advice. And, after losing a mother, a grandmother, a potential step-mother, and learning about her biological mother’s death all in less than a year, Hannah Gruen was the last maternal figure she had.

Nancy took a deep breath, letting it out in a slow exhale. “Have you ever had a crush on someone that wasn’t available?”

“Yes, I have. My best friend.”

“What did you do about it?”

“I told them.”

Nancy’s eyebrows shot up. “You told them?” She said in disbelief. “Even though there was no chance you’d be together? Weren’t you worried you were risking your friendship?”

Hannah shook her head. “I was at the beginning. But, it ended up being better for the both of us that I told the truth. The truth holds power.”

The truth holds power, that was something Nancy believed too.

“Thanks.” Hannah gave Nancy’s hand another squeeze, then she got up from the table to return to her work.

Nancy felt a sudden weight in her coat pocket. Reaching in she pulled out the spool she had found in her kitchen that morning. She stared at it for a few seconds in bewilderment. How had it magically appeared in her pocket when she had left it on the counter before she left for The Claw? The longer she stared at it the object and the colour became familiar for some reason, something that Bess was talking about. Nancy dug her phone out of her other pocket and opened it. The article that Bess had sent her was still on the screen. The red string of fate. Nancy scanned the article.

‘According to Japanese legend,’ she read, ‘there is a thread that originates from the heart and extends through our pinky finger connecting us to those that we are fated to meet.’ Nancy looked down at her finger. The infected finger, the one now covered in bandages, was her pinky. The red mark her dad swore was a burn wound its way around his pinky. ‘It is said that no matter how much you stretch or tangle the invisible red string it can never be broken.’

Nancy recalled how her finger felt better when feelings of attraction were coursing through her body when she was in the back room with Ace and had gotten worse when that attraction was being suppressed, as she was trying to do the entire day. How she had felt that strange pull whenever she was near him as if being pulled closer by a thread.

So much for forgetting these feelings. They were as much a part of her as her traumas.

“Hannah,” Nancy called, and the owner of The Historical Society appeared in her office doorway, “I think I know what this is.”

Nancy placed the spool on the table and handed her phone to Hannah so she could read through the article herself. She recounted for Hannah finding the mark on her dad’s finger. Him downplaying it as a burn.

Nancy’s eyes widened, as a thought occurred to her. “I need to see if he’s alright.”

“You check on your dad, and I’ll look further into this,” Hannah said, handing Nancy her phone back. “I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

Nancy grabbed her bag off the table and ran out of The Historical Society. Her phone clutched in her hand, she dialled her home number. Carson didn’t answer after the first or second ring and the worry began to build in Nancy until her stomach ached. When he did pick up on the third ring he could hear him talking to someone in the background. Ryan she presumed.

“Did you happen to touch the spool? The one I knocked off the counter this morning.”

“Hello to you too,” Carson replied sarcastically. He covered the receiver but she could still make out him saying “It’s Nancy.” to Ryan. They had a snippet of a side conversation and then she could hear the sound of the speakerphone being turned on.

This wasn’t the time for the speakerphone.

“What were you saying?” Carson asked and Nancy repeated herself. “I kicked it off the stairs by accident, picked it up and put it on the kitchen counter. Is this important for something sleuthing-related?”

“I’ll get back to you on that,” Nancy said, putting an end to that line of conversation. She decided to change her tactic to avoid his growing suspicion. “Hey, by the way, how’s your hand?”

“Same as the last time you asked.”

“Alright then, I’ll see you soon.”

“You’re coming home?”

“Yeah, I’ve had a long day.” Nancy ended the call and dropped her phone into her pocket. She slowed her pace, suddenly feeling weak and dizzy. Her worry catching up to her.

She had nothing to worry about. Her dad was fine. Good even, he seemed to enjoy having Ryan around. Maybe she was wrong about this lead and the spool hadn’t caused the infection. But that still brought to mind why she had found it in her pocket. Nancy caught herself itching her finger over the bandage as she thought this over. The wound had begun leaking through the bandages again and she stopped her itching.

Suddenly her phone began ringing and she took it back out to answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Nancy,” it was Nick who answered the phone, “you have to return to The Claw ASAP.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

There was a shuffling as the phone was passed between hands. Now it was George’s voice on the other end. “It’s Ace, he’s caught whatever weird finger fungus you have.”

No, this was definitely the spool.

🔎

Nancy got back to The Claw in record time. Although it was not yet eight o’clock the restaurant was empty of patrons and only Nick and George could be seen in the dining area.

“They’re in the back,” Nick called as soon as Nancy passed through The Claw’s doors.

Ace was sitting on the bench, Bess knelt in front of him pressing a damp cloth to his face. “Oh, Nancy, you’re back!” She exclaimed once she saw her.

Ace turned. He was pale, too pale, showing off dark bags under his eyes and a sheen of sweat glistened on his skin, soaking through his clothes. And, his pinky was just as green and goopy as hers was. Despite this, he smiled at the sight of her. Nancy threw her bag to the side and knelt beside Bess.

“I’ll give you two some time alone,” Bess said, handing Nancy the wet cloth, then she exited the backroom.

Her phone then decided to ring. She snuck a look at the caller ID. “It’s Hannah.” She said to Ace. “I should take it.” Getting to her feet she walked a few paces away to take the call.

“I was looking through my photocopies of the Women in White’s spellbook,” Hannah explained after Nancy accepted the call, “and found a spell similar to this red string of fate curse.”

“This isn’t exactly the Women in White’s MO.” The moment she voiced it she knew. “It’s Temperance’s.”

“I was thinking the same thing. She’s changed the spell in some way. To only hex those who haven’t found or confessed to their destined partner. If they have it shows up only as a red mark around their pinky, no infection.”

The red mark showed her dad had met his soulmate, her mom, and even though she was gone she was still his soulmate.

“The bad news does remain the same,” Hannah continued, “when the infection gets to the heart both destined partners die.”

Nancy swallowed hard and looked back at Ace. He was looking back at her. This time when they shared a long moment of eye contact she didn’t avert her eyes. Her heart pounded. “Is there a cure?” Nancy felt her voice crack on the final word.

“Nothing that I’ve found yet, but I’ll keep looking.”

There was no discernable cure. Ace was running out of time. And, because this curse had connected the two of them, so was she.

Nancy thanked Hannah and hung up, gravitating back to Ace, and sitting by his side. She entwined her hands with his cold, clammy ones. Not caring how the goop squelched between their fingers. It had made her feel better when she was at her worst when they were unattaching the wraith from feeding on her life force, and she wanted to show the same compassion to him. The longer they sat there, the worse her symptoms got until she was the same feverish mess that he was.

She held his hand as tight as she could, ignoring all the butterflies fluttering inside her. “This is my fault,” Ace parted his chapped lips to protest but Nancy silenced him. “No, that’s the truth.”

This reminded her of what Hannah had told her back at The Historical Society. Truth has power. Maybe confessing would lessen the curse.

She couldn’t look at him as she spoke instead looking over his shoulder as she recited a modified version of the script she had planned weeks previously. “In New York, I had this dreamscape experience with you at the bluffs. It was -- it was powerful and I felt things. For you. At first, I thought that it was the wraith manipulating how I felt but it wasn’t. I-- I know that now. And, I know you’re with Amanda and I don’t want to ruin that. And, right now I should be my first priority and put relationships on the backburner. And, I know this could risk everything we have, but, I needed -- I needed to tell you.”

Ace was silent, and he removed his hands from hers. Nancy was preparing herself for the worst, for Ace to say that he didn’t want to be friends with her anymore. That she should stay out of his and Amanda’s relationship. She frantically wiped at her eyes, trying to compose herself for what was coming.

“And, you don’t need to reciprocate. You’ve--you’ve become very special to me and I--I can’t lose you.”

“Nancy, slow down,” Nancy looked tearfully into his eyes, stopping her unconscious stream of thought, and he grabbed her hand again. Some of his colour had returned and the dark circles under his eyes weren’t as pronounced. “Amanda broke up with me.

Nancy gulped. “She did what now?” She hadn’t expected this.

“She said I wasn’t all in. And, she’s right. I’m not. So, she stayed behind in Portland.” Ace squeezed their conjoined hands. “And, you’re right too. Your first priority should be yourself right now. You shouldn’t be jumping into a relationship with me or anyone else until you're ready. But, I’m always going to be by your side. Nothing will change that.”

A sudden green smoke filled the room making Nancy and Ace cough. When enough smoke cleared away, and they were able to get a good look at each other, Nancy noticed Ace’s pinky had healed, good as new, and quickly removed her bandages. Except for the line of scratches, it was as if nothing had happened in the first place.

George, Nick, and Bess rushed into the back room, waving the smoke away with their hands that was drifting towards them as it drifted to the kitchen windows.

“What the hell is going on back here?” George said, “We smelled smoke.”

“It’s the tail-end of Temperance’s soulmate curse,” Nancy responded.

When each of her friends looked back at her with confused and shocked expressions she unclasped her hands from Ace’s and stood to face her friends. She had another truth to reveal.

“Temperance is back. She used my blood from her machine to return. Now, she’s somewhere in Horseshoe Bay. Waiting. Trying to learn about me. About us. About this town. So she can destroy it.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Ace said, coming up to join her. “How are we going to kick this bitch out of our house?”

Nancy smiled at him.

Maybe there was something about this soulmate thing after all.

#Nace #Nancy Drew CW #Nace fanfiction #ndcentral #ahhhh my first Nancy Drew fic #I hope this is good and that people like it

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