Chapter 13: Epilogue

A/N: Last chapter! You guys have no idea how excited I am about this. Not only have I had fun writing this, but it represents a big step for me. I'm usually all about one-shots, snippets, character exploration; the idea of writing anything longer was always too daunting. I've started and abandoned more stories than I can count. And now I've done it! Thank you so much for reading and for all your kind reviews. I'm already in the planning stage of a sequel, so stick around!

"Nancy Drew," Joe said, opening his apartment door to her knock. "You did not really bake me a cake."

"I always pay my debts," she said cheerfully, popping up on tip-toe to kiss him as she breezed by. A bit bemused, Joe followed her inside. He leaned against the counter, hands in his pockets, and watched her busy herself in his kitchen.

Feeling his eyes on her, she paused, knife in hand, and looked up. "Besides," she said, "I had to get out of the house. Dad and Hannah were babying me. Dad drove me to the station this morning to give my statement, and Hannah's been plying me with tea and rice pudding all day. I love them dearly, but I needed some space. Is Frank home?"

Joe reached down two plates from the cabinet and set them down next to her cake. "No. He's working," he said. "Nan, I'm really glad to see you, but you look like you should be home in bed." Nancy's eyes were bright and happy, but she still looked tired, and the stiffness in her movements betrayed lingering pain from her bruises. She deftly transferred a slice of cake onto a plate and shook her head at him.

"Lying around will only make things worse. You know that."

"Yeah, I know. I just don't like seeing you in pain." Joe's eyes were hard. "At least that creep is in worse shape than you are."

"Joe. What did you do to him?"

"No more than I had to. Guy pulls a gun on me, I'm not obliged to go easy on him."

Nancy stepped forward, offering him a plate. "Let's sit. Couch or table?"

"Couch."

Joe's mood softened after a few bites of his cake. "This is really good."

"You doubted me?" Nancy grinned at him. "It's Bess's Nana's recipe, so don't get any ideas."

"Ideas?"

"About the sexy potential of chocolate icing. I promised."

"Well, I didn't have any ideas before you said that, but now I'm starting to think." Joe's eyes gleamed with mischief.

"You're going to get yourself haunted by the ghost of a scandalized grandmother," Nancy said.

"Somehow, that doesn't worry me."

"Really?" Nancy teased. "Imagine having an entity in your bedroom who shrieked objections every time you brought a girl in there. Total mood killer."

"It's a good thing my girl is dauntless." Joe abruptly set both their plates on the coffee table and pulled Nancy close, his hands ghosting tenderly over her battered body but his lips crashing down on hers. The kiss was rough, fierce and dark with chocolate and fear. His roaming fingers found a resting place on either side of her head, twining into her hair and tugging just to the point of pain. Nancy made a small sound of surprise and pleasure and rose up on her knees to press the length of her body against his, abandoning herself to his raw need. When the kiss finally ended (both of them panting, leaning into each other, foreheads pressed together), Nancy was surprised to find her face wet with tears. Embarrassed, she reached up with a shaking hand to brush the wetness away. Joe intercepted that hand, circling the wrist with his fingers.

"Nancy," he said hesitantly.

"What is it?"

He looked at her, unable to articulate his thoughts, eyes pleading with her to understand- and Nancy was sure she knew what he meant. I was terrified. I don't want to lose you. Neither of them wanted to speak the words aloud. There was no point indulging in regrets or fears. This was not going to be the last time she or Joe was in danger. Nancy knew that if she cared for Joe, she would have to trust in his abilities and allow him the freedom to do the job he loved; and if Joe cared for her, he would afford her the same freedom. So she made no attempt to articulate the residual fear and relief they were both feeling. Instead, she lay one caressing hand against his cheek and she nodded, showing him she understood. Joe nodded back, letting the tension run out of his muscles.

"I'm glad you're here," he said, releasing her wrist to brush away her tears with his own fingers.

They sat for a while, wrapped up in each other, letting themselves be at peace. Finally Nancy roused herself enough to reach for their abandoned cake.

"I'll fall asleep if I just sit like that."

"That's fine with me," Joe told her. "I'm here to take care of you."

"I know," Nancy said. "But I want to finish my cake."

"I'm considering a second slice," Joe said. "In the interests of placating Nana Marvin's outraged spirit, of course."

"Of course," Nancy said, laughing. Joe eased himself up off the couch, trying not to jostle her.

"Anything for you while I'm up?"

"A glass of water, please. This icing is really rich."

"It's perfect. Chet would get down on one knee and propose marriage to this cake." Joe returned with a second slice and Nancy's water.

"Thanks," she said.

"How's Bess doing?" Joe asked, digging into his cake as though it were not his second large helping.

"She'll be all right. She was still pretty shaken up when we talked this morning, but she's stronger than she gives herself credit for. Have you eaten anything else today?"

Joe swallowed a large bite. "Yeah, why?"

"No reason."

"I went for a really long run earlier. I'm hungry."

"No judgment. Carry on, Bruce Bogtrotter."

Joe laughed at that and went on eating. "Did they find those letters we were searching for?"

"They were at the guesthouse, with the rest of Amber's things."

"So she was really living there."

"She was," Nancy confirmed. "And dealing drugs from there, too. Minor stuff, mostly marijuana and small quantities of pills stolen from her job at the pharmacy."

"That poor kid," Joe said, looking angry again. "That is no life for a child. She has no excuse, either. She had a legitimate job and friends who cared about her."

"I know. Bess is miserable about the whole thing."

"Is Ryan still with her and Tom?"

"No. He's with Sir Morgan now. Chief McGinnis said they took to each other right away."

"Good," Joe said. "So everything is wrapped up, then."

"Everything is wrapped up," Nancy echoed. As always, her satisfaction with her completed job rang just a bit hollow. Joe knew the feeling. The high of solving a case was incredible, but it only lasted a little while and it was always replaced by an emptiness, a need for more puzzles to solve. He patted her knee in silent sympathy.

"I'm sorry I ran out on you after your song," Nancy said. She was feeling tired again and she curled into him, leaning into his chest. Joe stroked her red-blonde hair idly, twirling strands between his fingers.

"I'm sorry I was too busy to notice you running out," he replied. "Been kicking myself for that all day."

"You were giving out autographs to your adoring public, I think," Nancy said lightly.

"Such is the life," Joe sighed. "Detective by day, rock star by night. It's a heavy burden."

Nancy rolled her eyes at him. "I wish I'd gotten to congratulate Frank and Callie, too."

"They understand."

They sat together in companionable silence for a few moments. Joe set his plate aside and finished Nancy's glass of water. She nuzzled her face into his shoulder and sighed.

"Did you hear that Linda Davis passed away this morning?"

"I'm sorry to hear that," Joe said.

"I know that look. What are you thinking about?"

"I'm thinking it's too bad she never knew the truth about her husband."

Nancy looked surprised. "Don't you think that would have been excessively painful for both of them? Sir Morgan told me he didn't want things to end that way."

"Yeah, maybe not at the end of her life like that. But can you imagine being married to someone for- how long?"

"Fifty years, at least. Maybe closer to 60. Their daughter is around Dad's age."

"Fifty years," Joe repeated. "That's a long time to keep a secret. Is it really possible to live with someone that long and never really know them?"

Nancy was quiet for a moment. "It's a frightening thought," she said. "I think a lot of it has to do with natural self-centeredness. We see what we expect to see, what we want to see. What makes us feel good."

Joe looked down into her face. "Got any secrets, Drew?"

"Hmm." Nancy pretended to think. "Well, not really, unless you count the fact that Biff Hooper and I got married in first grade. Totally legally binding. Frank was the minister and Bess was my bridesmaid. I think we used a zipper pull of George's backpack for my ring."

"Dammit," Joe said. "When were you planning to get that annulled?"

"I'm not sure we want an annulment. Biff and I could have a beautiful future together." They both laughed at that. The Hardys' old friend Biff was happily married and living in Colorado with his wife and two children.

"Joe, think about it," Nancy said, sobering. "We're both detectives. I think our relationship is a bit unusual in that we are habitually going to notice a lot more about each other than a normal couple."

Joe grinned. "That is true."

"I mean, we'll probably let our guard down. We'll fall into that same trick of seeing what we want to see. But I'm not that kind of girl and I know you're not that kind of guy. We'll be okay." Nancy sat up suddenly and looked at him, color rising in her cheeks. "Shit. I sound so creepy right now. We've only been dating a few days and I don't mean to sound like I have the whole future mapped out, just- "

"Drew. I get it," Joe interrupted.

"Good. I thought I was going to scare you off."

"Nah," Joe said, shrugging. "I can't think of a better person to get old and secretive with."

"One day at a time, you clown." Nancy lay her head back down on his shoulder, sighing with true contentment. Joe's arm slipped around her waist. The next case will draw us back into action soon enough, Nancy thought, and Joe seemed to hold a similar sentiment. Her restless mind and his energetic body both, for once, grew still; and they rested together, all the long, lazy afternoon, in the peaceful strength of companionable idleness.