Work Text:
Ned Nickerson had no use for coffee anymore. By the time he made it to the side of his red Ford F-150, he was already wide awake.
He kept his headlights off—just for now, while he pulled out of the driveway of his shared home—and began the familiar trek through his quiet university town, only turning on the automatic lights when he was clear of the neighborhood. It was well past 2 in the morning, after all, and the last thing he wanted to do was wake someone up on account of his high beams spilling in through their bedroom window.
Once out on the main drag, he allowed himself to sink deeper into his seat, inhaling deep. Nancy’s flight would be arriving in less than forty-five minutes, which meant he needed to pick up the pace if it meant he’d be there to greet her at the gate like he always did. Normally, he’d have a bouquet of flowers for her, but she’d been favoring the red-eye flights as of late, which meant less time spent perusing the floral shop and more time spent blinking at the digital alarm clock on his bedside table, bleary-eyed, scrambling to turn the alarm off before all of his roommates woke up.
It was hard at first. He’d nearly missed the first few flights, arriving in the pickup lane a good fifteen minutes late. But each flight, he learned how to shave off a few minutes of travel time between his front door and the airport doors to make it on time. This usually involved setting out his tennis shoes by the front door the night before, sleeping in his planned outfit so he didn’t have to waste time changing in the wee hours of the morning, and taking the back roads to avoid the downtown traffic, which was especially important during concert season.
Yes, he’d become quite the expert at airport pickups and drop-offs, though it didn’t leave him with the same feeling of accomplishment or pride like the other awards and accolades he’d won over the years. This one made him feel empty. Lonely. Like he’d rather be good at literally anything else.
He maneuvered through the roundabout and veered left, picking up the highway that was more or less a straight shot to the airport. Above him, he could see the blinking lights of arriving planes as they cruised through the lower altitude and the shadows of departing planes as they made their way up into the clear night sky. There was something comforting about it, the way the road opened up to the landscape and allowed for a perfect view of the comings and goings of air travel. Most of the nearby trees and foliage had been cleared to support the new expansion of the terminal, so the closer Ned grew to the airport, the more he could see.
Often, on drives like this, he wondered why Nancy never asked him to come with her on one of her cases. Things were busy with school, sure, and he had football—but she knew he’d give up on both of those things if it meant he could spend more than thirty-six hours in her presence. He was actually surprised Carson kept the house in River Heights at all, considering neither he or his daughter were around long enough to inhabit it, and their housekeeper, Hannah, had taken to watching Togo in her little bungalow on the outskirts of town rather than supervise him in their big, two-story home. Most of the time it sat like a ghost at the end of the street, lifeless and empty.
Lonely.
Why had she never asked, anyway? She’d been on countless cases over the years and never once asked—never once thought to ask if he’d go with her. He wasn’t sure if she was worried about his answer or if she didn’t care enough to have him join. He wasn’t sure which was worse—her lack of faith or her apathy.
When she’d first started traveling abroad, he’d been so happy for her—genuine excitement, that is, from the tip of his head all through his toes. He’d never seen her so alive, so thrilled to be a part of something greater, just like her mom had been. And even though Carson’s worrying drove him mad, he’d been more than happy to follow up with her every night, to stay up until his eyes were red and his head was pounding from a migraine to talk to her for a few minutes—seconds—on the phone, to sit around and wait on his Friday and Saturday nights on the rare chance that she might call him to ask for help.
Or, even better: on the rare chance that she might miss him long enough to want to hear his voice as much as he longed to hear hers.
But then months turned into a year, and that year into another year, and as Nancy’s newfound fame in the detective field grew, so did father’s, and soon Carson’s near-dead career as an attorney was growing exponentially. Nancy took more cases that were farther and farther away from River Heights until she was spending more time alone in hotel rooms than in her own bed. His bed.
In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent the night with her—actually held her in his arms, kissed both her temples, felt the warmth of her skin against his. At the beginning of their relationship, when things were real and fresh and new, he couldn’t get the scent of her off his pillows. It nearly drove him mad—smelling her every single night even though she was several streets away. On a couple of occasions, the madness even drove him to walk a half a mile to her house, grinning like an idiot, waiting until she popped her head out of the second-story window and chastised him for walking alone in the dark.
Now, she rarely ever knew what he was doing. She rarely ever asked. And she rarely ever wanted to talk about anything other than her cases, her work, her latest clue. And so he went from being her closest confidant to her personal escort. He was just the getaway driver, so to speak. The means to an end. The ride to the airport.
His throat grew tight. He readjusted his grip on the steering wheel and merged into the left lane, passing underneath a green sign that read ARRIVALS.
The arrival lanes were nearly abandoned besides the airport shuttle that ran in twenty-minute cycles between here and long-term parking. It was, like most things, quiet in an unsettling way. As he pulled up to the curb and put his car in park, he decided he hated the airport. He hated all of it—the tacky decorations, the smell of fifteen different fast-food restaurants wafting down the crowded terminals, the overpriced snacks and hoodies with poorly-printed sayings like “Welcome to River Heights!” plastered across the front.
Not to mention the fact that time seemed to stand still in the airport and every second spent inside felt like the world was tipping further and further on its axis, misaligning with the current reality. There’s no other place on earth that lets you order coffee well before five in the morning and drink beer with breakfast.
Now imagine coming back to that place multiple times a month.
No, multiple times a week. He’d forgotten that Nancy once had a sixteen-hour visit in between a domestic flight from Arizona to a departing flight to the UK to deal with business in England.
Ned sighed. He’d rather drive. Not that it mattered, anyway. He had no plans to go anywhere anytime soon.
He climbed out of his truck, locked it twice, and made his way through the double doors to the baggage claim area and the arrivals section beyond it, right at the edge of TSA security. Normally, people aren’t allowed to leave their cars in the pickup lane as it created a bottleneck of traffic. But then again, people didn’t normally come to the airport as often as Ned did. He was certain some of the airport staff knew him by name, because he’d learned several of their names over the past few months—Kim at the Starbucks stand in the corner, Louie from the rental car place near baggage claim, even Tucker, who often meandered outside near Departures and offered bag valet for those who were travelling with more than a carry-on.
He hated how familiar this place had become, how he knew exactly where he was going, how his heartrate seemed to slow at the sound of the repeating announcements over the loudspeaker.
Never leave your bags unattended. If you see or hear any suspicious activity, please alert airport security staff as soon as possible. Your safety is our top priority.
He found a familiar spot in the corner where he could lean against the wall. From his vantage point, he could see the doors that Nancy would cross through but was far enough away not to get sideswept by a crowd.
Except he was the only one here, save for an elderly gentleman bundled up in a petticoat standing near the exit. His wrinkles were so set in his face that it looked as if someone had carved them with a knife, and his mouth was pointed down in a permanent scowl.
Ned had never seen this man before, and he figured he’d never see him again. But as he waited for Nancy to deboard, he watched the man from his peripherals, fighting the anxiety building deep in his gut.
Things would be different soon. He’d been planning on asking her to marry him soon—if he ever got her to stay here longer than a few days—and he was confident she’d slow down on the detective work to plan for the big event. He had originally planned to propose at his college graduation, but that was more than six months away, and he knew he couldn’t wait that long. He needed to hear her say yes more than anything, needed her to see how much he loved her. He needed to do something to get her to stay with him. Be with him.
His phone buzzed. He slid his thumb over the home screen.
From Nancy: Getting ready to deboard. I have so much to tell you!!! Spoiler alert, I might be going to JAPAN! :)
He read the message over and over until his vision blurred and he was staring straight down at the carpet, observing the faded swirl patterns coated with mud and dirt. Someone had clearly tried to clean it since the last time he’d been here—there were patches where the color was more vibrant.
He dragged his focus back to his phone and swallowed hard.
Somehow, he knew more about the carpet in the airport than he did about his own girlfriend.
Somehow, he knew that if he were to get down on one knee and ask her to marry him, she wouldn’t be able to say yes.
Somehow, he knew that placing a ring on her finger would be like shackling her wrists around one of the structural beams in his home.
But somehow—and he knew it had to be soon, because he could see her slender silhouette through the frosted glass doors as she made her way over to him—he had to keep it together long enough to grab hold of her luggage, load it in the back of his truck, and drive her home.
In a few days, he’d likely be back here, kissing her softly before watching her board the next plane. It wouldn’t matter where she was going—just that she was going somewhere without him.
But tonight, after he made sure she was safe in bed, he’d drive home, click off his headlights, and let himself unravel. Because even though she was here physically—here, in the flesh, right in front of him—she was always somewhere else, chasing another adventure.
Never chasing him.
No, Ned had no use for coffee to keep him awake during those late-night drives to the airport to pick up the girl he’d spent his whole life loving.
And yet, Ned was still tired.