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If you want to know his heart, pay close attention to what angers him.
Ace’s anger has always surprised him. He always took pride in his ability to be in control of his emotions. But his anger was always twisted darkly around another emotion, distorting it until no longer recognizable. He pulled the towel tighter around the meat hook, twisting it around trying to prevent it from causing future injuries.
His anger built itself around good intentions until the looming shadows cast over every other emotion - fear, sadness, and jealousy. Sometimes it would simmer beneath his skin as if trying to slip through into his actions, into his words. The slam of doors, a quick brush of shoulders, and bitter words leaving his mouth.
It left him frustrated, pulling at his hair, searching for words that he couldn’t always put in the order he wanted. And it almost always resulted in a migraine, leaving a residue over his mind that took time to wipe clean.
He heard her steps on the concrete floor behind him - he didn’t want to face Nancy. He couldn’t. Not when he could feel his emotions coiling tighter thinking about the day’s events.
“Ace, I know that you blame me,” Nancy started, her voice drifting into the freezer, “for getting us into this situation.”
Ace couldn’t turn to face her because he knew she was right - she was usually right. He did blame her, but he mostly blamed himself. Would she have stayed on that bus if he hadn’t said those words? His anger tightened again at the memory of his legs refusing to run toward that stupid bus. He should have been the one to run for her, not some guy they just met, who probably only ran back for the money.
Instead of turning, he kept his eyes on the cause of his death looming in front of him, covered in a desperate attempt to soften the killing blow. All he could do was keep his focus on the task twisting between his fingers, knowing the towel wouldn't help in the slightest.
She hesitated, but only for a moment before saying, “And I really want to make it right, but I can't do that if you're mad at me.”
That was the concept he had been wrestling all day - could he ever be truly mad at Nancy? Yes, it was her call to the aglaeca that brought this on. Yes, she walked them into a haunted forest, but they all wanted to help her. He wanted to help her.
He hated hearing the guilt in her voice, hearing that self-hatred, because she didn’t deserve it, because he knew she’d push them all away to keep them safe. If walking out of their lives kept them safe, she wouldn’t look back. But Ace didn’t know how he’d continue life without her anymore.
“What I'm mad at is the idea that I might die very soon,” he finally manages to get out.
The words still didn’t feel quite right. He is mad about dying but it isn’t the main cause for his anger right now. His mind was still sorting through why he was even angry in the first place - aglaeca portent, almost losing Nancy tonight, dying himself - all these nightmares throbbed against his temples. Was he angry about Nancy almost dying or because she felt the need to prove to him that she wasn’t a Hudson?
“Right when I'm finally figuring out how to be a part of something I really care about,” Ace continued, finally turning to give Nancy his full attention. “Cause I've never had a crew like us.”
His words slipped from his mouth slowly as they found their way through the molasses-like migraine settling on his mind. He could practically see the guilt - her own and his - placed on her shoulders. Why did she always do this? Why couldn’t she see that they cared about her?
“I'm not gonna let us die,” she replied. The conviction in her voice pierced Ace’s chest sharply. There’s the Nancy he’d always admired, the one he couldn’t bear the thought of losing. Not after she just started to let them in, let him in.
“I never doubted that,” Ace answered her honestly as he walked down the stairs, passing her as he went. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could control this anger simmering along his nerves and he didn’t want Nancy to see him breakdown.
“So, you're still mad?” she asked, almost pleading with him.
“I'm scared,” he admitted, turning to look at her from the lockers. “Sometimes you just have to let fear be.”
He wanted to hold her and take on some of her fear, to share that burden that he knew was breaking her. They could shoulder it together. And not being able to hold her created another twisting tendril of anger, one that he didn’t feel he had a right to, that he could never imagine possible. Ace could feel his frustration - over her guilt, almost losing her, their whole situation - starting to rise up like a sickness.
“The next time you feel like sacrificing yourself to prove you're not a Hudson, please don't.” his words dropped between them as she continued to stare at him. Ace slammed the locker shut, knowing he had to escape her suffocating gaze before his splitting migraine had him doubling over in pain.
“Just 'cause I'm mad at you, doesn't mean I want to lose you,” he stated as he walked past her before he said anything worse. Before he confessed anything more, anything that could ruin their already fragile friendship. But for a brief moment, as the slamming locker echoed behind him, his migraine eased as he acknowledged the heart of anger - he couldn’t lose her.
He barely acknowledged George and Nick as he stormed out of The Claw, mumbling something about not coming in tomorrow to avoid death by meat hook. When he finally reached the safety of Florence, it felt like he had run a marathon. His lungs burned as he tried to keep his frustration contained. The door shut behind him before he let out a groan, his fists slammed against the steering wheel.
He was angry at the storm raging in his mind, pressure shifting and morphing. He was angry at his loss of control, his emotions distorted and unrecognizable tainted with this anger. He knew he couldn’t drive in his state, just thinking about the headlights beaming into his eyes had him cringing and leaning his head back into his seat. His ragged breath was the only sound within Florence as he tried to force it into a rhythm he recognized.
He kept his gaze on his shaking fingers resting on the steering wheel. He couldn’t close his eyes. Each time he did, he saw a meat hook, a bus in flames, and Nancy’s guilt as she stared up at him in the locker room. He wanted to shove all this anger and guilt back to her, but he also wanted her to be safe and happy. When was the last time she was truly happy? For more than a passing moment?
If you want to know his mind, listen for the words that linger in his silence.
Ace learned the weight of words after his dad’s accident, oftentimes becoming frustrated as his fingers fumbled to learn a new language, the words always failing to mean what he wanted. He grew to control each word, to slow down, to feel their importance before saying them. But he learned the power of silence as his parents' once constant words suddenly shifted to subtle glances and lingering stares as they created their own language in the silence. He grew up knowing silence always meant more than what it was; it could hold an expanse of emotions beyond what words could never get right.
He wanted to tell George that the silence was more valuable than she thought, that the silence meant words weren’t enough to describe how Nick was feeling. That maybe his silence was because she was all he could think about. Ace’s thoughts pulled his gaze towards Nancy ahead of him.
But how does he explain that to someone whose thoughts have always run faster than their words could form?
Since returning from his road trip, he could tell most days that Nancy was fighting her own mind. He knew she’d talk to him when she found the words, but her silence felt different this time - their silence felt different. Nancy’s silence had always been easy for him to translate, to read, to communicate within, but recently his understanding of her language, her silence, had slipped. Her lingering glances were now quick and fleeting, her hand brushing his shoulder was non-existent, and this new unfamiliar language was painful for Ace to understand.
He couldn’t help but wonder if the wraith had caused this rift to appear in what he thought was stable ground for her and him. But the one time he tried to ask her about it she’d have an excuse or quick response about trees and lotus flowers.
Ace knew he’d have to wait, though, because Nancy hides her struggles by packing any lingering emotions away into perfectly labelled boxes to revisit once a case is solved. He’d keep offering anything he could to find a path back to what they were before.
“I can help you carry it,” he volunteered, falling into step behind her, expecting her to say no.
“Yeah, thanks,” Nancy replied, barely meeting his gaze.
“What's wrong?” he asked as they stepped outside.
He could tell when they were all waiting for George and Nick to arrive that she seemed more stressed? Upset? He couldn’t place the emotion in her eyes. This was never a conversation they had to have before, he always knew what was wrong, even if she didn’t herself.
“What do you mean?” she asked, her steps faltering as she turned to him.
“You didn't even try to stop me from helping you,” Ace explained, she always pushed back and eventually she’d accept. “Normally you'd say something like, ‘The cider's not that heavy,’ or you'd rather do it all yourself or something.”
“Well, maybe it's exceptionally heavy cider,” she tried to joke and brush it away.
“Or maybe something's on your mind,” he said, knowing full well there was and he wanted her to be able to talk to him, talk like they used to.
“It's not about George and Nick.” He glanced down at her waiting for her to continue.
“They're great together. The - the Columbia admissions portal opened an hour ago. I didn't get in. They didn't wait list me. They didn't say to apply again later. Columbia just said no.”
“I'm sorry,” Ace replied, his heart betraying his head as a jolt went through him that she wasn’t going to be leaving, but his guilt was overpowering. He knew how much she wanted Columbia - how much she wanted to escape.
He watched her as she searched for her words, “It's just…I don't understand why they didn't want me.” Her eyes were desperate for him to give any reason to explain this pain; a hauntingly similar look to when she found out about Lucy giving her up.
“Nancy, that's their loss,” he voiced, cracking slightly as it dropped to a softer octave. “Some other school is gonna see right away how amazing you are and -”
He took a step towards her, wanting to comfort her, but his outstretched hand fell against his leg as she turned away from him. His words faded into the breeze, sweeping them away to the water. He wanted to tell her if Columbia couldn’t see how amazing she was, if they couldn’t see that, then he’d happily spend every day telling her if she’d let him.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, already feeling her boxing away this conversation.
He understood the pressures of this small town, but he had never endured what Nancy was going through. The gossip, her traumas being constantly advertised, whispers following her wherever she went. Even at The Claw, it was impossible for him not to hear the whispers as he cleared her tables, customers unable to help themselves from commenting on the infamous Nancy Drew and her tragic history.
“I don't know.”
He could hear the tears between her words, even facing away from him, he knew the sound of heartbreak in her silence. It was the one thing he knew he’d never forget.
Amongst the disappearing cats, crazy campers, and dead bodies, it was nice to finally have a warm moment at the Drew’s house with everyone. Ace liked being here, even when things seemed to be going wrong, being at Nancy’s felt safe.
“It's just…” Ace waited as she found her words, “I was so sure that this one was where I wanted to go and figure it all out.”
He struggled with Nancy wanting to leave so desperately when she had given him such a sense of belonging in the last few months. How could someone who finally made him feel like he belonged be so determined to run from it? Was their entire friendship that one-sided and he just never saw it?
He didn’t want to lose her, but if she wanted to leave he wouldn’t be able to keep her here. For Nancy to stay, she would have to come to that decision on her own. He swallowed all the words he wanted to tell her.
“Hmm. Guess the point is just to go elsewhere, right?” He pushed the words through his lips, “If it's what you want.”
Ace wondered if she could see the desperation in his eyes for her to say no. For her to stay. He wanted to say he would miss her, that he already misses her and she hasn’t even left yet. But he missed her while he was on his road trip, when it came in unexpected waves. And even with her next to him, he missed the way they once were.
He watched her fingers fidget before she said, “Yeah, yeah, I'll um - I could start some supplemental essay prompts this weekend or something.”
“I can help you proofread,” he offered, always ready to help. Even if it meant losing her in Horseshoe Bay, he could still help her; he still wanted to help her figure things out.
“Thanks,” she smiled back. It was through silent smiles and quiet promises where Ace felt at home again with her. A home he wanted her to stay in, but one he couldn’t hold her in.
If you want to know his soul, look at where his eyes are when you catch him smiling.
After so much darkness, everything felt bright and easy. The lunch shift was slow, but the sunshine was sparkling off the water projecting small shimmers throughout the restaurant. To Ace, this was almost as perfect as driving Florence along the coast, forest on one side, ocean on the other, AC/DC blasting over the stereo.
But this kind of happiness was quickly shoved aside by Bess’ sharp elbow to his ribs. At some point, Bess had started to notice, the smallest grin on his face whenever he was watching Nancy.
“You’re doing it again,” Bess whispered, as Nancy grabbed an order from the kitchen window.
“What?” he glanced down at her, trying to feign innocence.
“You’re staring,” she explained, “And you’re smiling.”
“But -” he tried to find an excuse, “It’s just - she seems more like herself. And I’m allowed to be happy for her.”
Bess only gave him a knowing look in response and he spun back around to focus on the dirty dishes.
“Since Gil, the wraith, and Trott,” he looked back over his shoulder briefly at Nancy, “It’s just been a while.” The smile gradually returned to his face, starting in his eyes before reaching and pulling at his lips.
“Oh sure, of course,” Bess hummed in agreement, her eyes never leaving him.
He knew what Bess was insinuating. Ace stared down at the murky water in front of him, hoping the dishes would distract him from Nancy. From Amanda. He wanted the dishes to work their magic and provide some sense of zen, some sense to his conflicting emotions. The organized stacks of clean dishes weren’t providing their usual calm to his frantic thoughts.
It wasn’t as if Amanda didn’t make him happy, everything was great, never better. But those words felt wrong even when he repeated them to himself. They were great, they were just new. He hadn’t had enough time to understand all of Amanda. With Nancy, it had always been easy, like a second language he didn’t have to try to be fluent in. But Amanda, he had to take time to understand, time they just hadn’t had yet.
“So...when does Amanda get back from Spain?” Bess asked as she started to roll the cutlery into napkins.
“Soon,” he answered, but the lie tasted bitter. He couldn’t tell Bess that he had been unable to connect with Amanda for most of the time she’d been in Spain. He grabbed another bowl and scrubbed frantically at the silver surface.
“Are we angrily rewashing dishes because we want Amanda home or because she is having too much fun in Spain without you?” Bess asked cautiously.
He looked at the clean bowl in his hands, already shiny and clean. Ace sighed, letting his shoulders collapse down as he rinsed the suds off and set it to dry.
“Undecided.”
Bess looked at him expectantly, her eyes demanding more of an answer from him. Platanchors always know.
“I guess -” he started, sifting through his emotions, “I guess it just kind of feels like Laura all over again.”
He could hear Nancy laugh’s drift through into the kitchen. His eyes found her standing by a table, arms crossed, with ol’Ralph rattling on about his day.
“Bess,” he whispered, “Am I not enough?”
Ace knew Laura and him would never have worked out, but it still hurt that she could leave him behind so easily. And why it was so easy for him to let her go the second time. Ace thought he and Amanda could be what the other needed, he thought they would make sense; that they would fit. With her family, Gil often stole the spotlight and as much as Ace loved his parents, after the accident, his mom prioritized his father, and The Captain prioritized his secrets to the point where Ace was never quite sure where he fit in.
“Oh Ace,” Bess sighed, “You’re more than enough.”
He sighed, turning back to the sink. Ace grew up believing that if he was good it’d be enough, good enough for his parents, for his friends, for someone he loved. But maybe after it all, being good won’t ever be enough. His constant need to be there for the people in his life, to help them in any way he could, was constantly weighing him down. Every time he tried to help, his fear of failure echoed in his mind drowning out any hopeful intentions.
“Hey Ace!” Nancy called from the kitchen window.
Surprised, he dropped the spatula he was washing into the sink. “Oh, hey Nancy!” he bumbled as he spun around.
“Quick favour -” she started, her curls bounced as she leaned up into the window.
“Yeah, I can help,” he answered a bit too quickly, and Bess’ stare felt almost as sharp as her elbows.
Nancy gave him a sideways look, “Uh - can you just pass me some extra soup crackers for Ralph?”
“Yeah, of course,” he frantically pulled off his gloves before grabbing a handful of soup crackers, “How many do you need?” He held the bunch out to her and his grin mirrored the growing smile on her face.
Nancy plucked two packets from his hands, “This should be enough, thanks!”
“Anytime!” he called back at her, “I also know where George keeps the secret stash if we ever run out!”
“Of course you do,” she said, spinning back to him for a moment with a laugh. His grin never falling, he realized that this made him happy. He didn’t need Paris or Spain. Horseshoe Bay, home, was enough for him.
All he wanted was for someone to look at him and see that he is worthy of their love, he wanted to be good enough for their love. He wanted her to see him, to see that he could be good enough. He hovered near the kitchen window, hands full of soup cracker packets, as he watched her walk away. A sharp elbow to his side pulled him from his thoughts.
“You’re smiling again,” Bess teased, as she grabbed her plated dishes and walked out.