What's Done

by Erin Griffin

Fandom: Murder in Suburbia

Pairing: Ash/Scribbs

Rating: PG/K+ depending where I post this

Summary: "I had just found my first grey hair two weeks ago, and you get to sit there looking better than ever? How the hell was that fair?"

Disclaimer: Ash and Scribbs belong to me. Oh, April Fools. *Nervous chuckle* Murder in Suburbia belongs to ITV.

Note: I'm experimenting with this writing style and perspective. I might get it horribly wrong and be forced to go back to writing all of my stories in third person. This is what I get for listening to A*Teen's Pop Till You Drop CD on repeat for the last three weeks when I wasn't hypnotized by Dr. Who series three, and more specifically, Martha Jones. (Don't judge me!) All Americanisms, bad grammar, typos or other signs of laziness are of the fault of the author (that would be me).

There was the oddly calming sound of the wind even as it seemed to throw the large raindrops towards my window, towards me in some childhood fit. I kept my eyes trained ahead, keeping my focus not on the reflection of the room behind me, but instead at the few cars on the road trying to brave the weather. Finally, I turned from the window when my upbringing reminded me that I wasn't alone at the moment, that were I to linger there, it would've been rude. I twisted my body, allowing my eyes to flicker around my flat. Looking around- not for the first time, mind- I found that nothing had changed. A place for everything and everything in its place, right? Even my attire hasn't changed in the seven years since you were last here on my sofa, careful not to spill your tea everywhere. I suppose I could add in the old cliche' of things staying the same even as they've changed so drastically. You've certainly changed. I supposed a married life would do that to a person. I could see where you're still the same old Scribbs, if I looked hard enough. Part of me was afraid of looking, or worse yet, finding that woman I used to know, the one who had,in the end, broken my heart. Even as I thought those things, I still didn't know why you were there, and on one of the wettest days Middleford had seen since... Well, you know. You were there. I had by then seven years to think about the reasons why we were there in that awkward moment, with me as far from the couch as I could have possibly been without leaving the room, and you stirring the tea in the mug even though we both knew it had long since gone cold. Neither of us moved or spoke as the past seemed to play out between us, as echoes of that fateful argument drifted around the room.

His name was Victor. I had rules against men named Victor, Vincent- any man who's name happened to begin with a V, really. I knew when I met him that there was something... What was the word then? Hinky. There was something very hinky, very odd about him, but for the life of me I couldn't ever figure out what it was about him that I didn't like. It had nothing to do with the fact that I was in the delicate process of slowly courting you (though, thinking back, I admit it would have gone a little smoother had I informed you of my intentions), though it didn't really help. Still, you were just so enamoured with him, and I never could see it. It seemed the more I tried to warn you off of him, the more you were drawn to him, and the more you were drawn to him, the more I hated him. Talk about vicious were very angry with me when I refused to spend time with you when he was there or double date with you two and some other bloke I had no interest in dating. We fought often about him, when I would have rather never had to mention his name ever again. When you'd gotten engaged to him and left the CID, we fought even more, but one day was just too much. Words were said that, though true, should never have been said to a best friend. You left my flat that day madder than hell, and though for some reason you sent me an invitation to your wedding almost a year later, we never spoke again. Until today, when I opened the door to you, soaking wet and asking to be let in.

"It's been a long time," you startled me by saying after a few minutes of our silence finally getting to you. You never could stay still and silent for long.

"Yeah," I agreed, wishing you would just tell me why you'd come so I can get on with my life. From the slight glance your way, I could tell that you got this silent messege. You always would know me better than anyone, and at that moment, in my sitting room, I regretted that fact and wished it wasn't still true.

"I.. I miss you," you tried again, and I nodded, but I didn't comment either way at first.

"Is that why you're here?"

"Yes, partly. I wanted to see how you were."

I wanted to say something cheeky, like 'And now that you've seen me?' I only nodded again. "I'm still here," I said instead. I opened my mouth to tell you something else, to ask, but I bit my lip and looked away like the coward I was. "You?"

"I'm alright," you said, and you looked well, once I finally allowed myself to really have a look at you. You're hair was long, longer than I had ever seen it before and possibly down to the middle of your back by now. Fringe framed your face perfectly, a blonde curtain to sometimes hide your eyes if you wished it. There, in your eyes, I saw the years that had gone by, years where I didn't get to look at you everyday, hear your laugh or feel the swats to the shoulder when I wasn't being nice to the newest What's His Face. With age, you've gotten even more beautiful. I had just found my first grey hair two weeks ago, and you get to sit there looking better than ever? How the hell was that fair? "Ash, I-"

I turned away from you then, which stopped your speech, whatever it may have been that you were going to say. Your finally week at Middleford CID was the last time anyone had called me Ash. It felt almost foreign, but at the same time, more familiar than anything I had ever felt, as if I was finally stepping into my home after being abroad for years. Your voice hits me again, but it startled me again when it came so close to my ear. I was afraid of turning to you, of seeing your face right next to mine and giving in to everything I had fought back those years ago. "Ash, I left Victor. You were right about him."

"I don't know what to say," I admitted.

"I thought that you'd be happy to know that," you said.

"I admit to not liking him, but I never wanted to be right." Slowly I looked towards you, and I was correct in the assumption that you were close to me. Our heads nearly hit when I did turn, and had I nod done so slowly, we would have smacked foreheads. I instantly took a step back.

"Well, you were, and I should have listened to you."

This was all wrong. Though I had hoped to hear these sorts of words seven years ago, I felt so badly now. "Are you alright, though?" I asked, tilting my head to consider you.

"As I'll ever be, I suppose. I'm... almost releaved that we couldn't have children, or things would have been so much worse."

"So... What do you plan to do now?"

"I dunno. I miss so much now. I thought maybe I would come back here and apologize to you... see if we could try to be friends again."

"I don't know if I can. I mean, I already let go of everything. I was never truly mad at you. After all, you were in love. I knew what that was all about. But it was so hard for me to be friends with you then, and I know that it would be even harder to be friends with you now."

I swallowed as I watched your face shift into a painfull expression. "Ash?"

"I don't mean-" I tried to explain, but I stopped speaking and took in a deep breath. "It was so hard standing there next to you... I was in love with you, and try as I might to forget... I still am. I tried to- to tell you, to show you somehow, but I didn't know how. I didn't know how to just..." I put my hand to the bridge of my nose as if to ward off a headache, but really I was trying to hide the fact that tears had welled in my eyes. "If I'd just had a little more time... but time had run out." I said, more to myself than to you, as it was stupid of me to even think that with that added time, you would have been with me. There was never a time where I thought I had any sort of chance, but there was always the slightest of hope.

My hand was then moved, and I found myself staring into your eyes as you brought it to your lips. "I was in love with you, too," was all you said, before you leaned forward, and kissed me. It wasn't at all the deep, hungry kiss of someone longing for another for so long, nor was it unpleasurable. My body reacted to her closeness as it always had, and I brought a hand to your hip just before you backed away. "If I promise you- If we promise eachother a little more time... Will you let me stay?"

"Stay?"

"In your life." I swallowed as so many other implications vame to me, and though I didn't want to assume anything, I missed you as well. I couldn't bring myself to ask you why you married Victor if you loved me. If this was really our chance to start over, to start anew, then what was done was done, and we could talk about all the rest later, now that we had the time.

I nodded.