If there was one thing Ashlyn was good at, it was waiting.
She had been waiting for three years. Three years now, with no word from him. No word from Jim.
She knew he was alive. She had been the one to help him when he was faking his death in front of that idiotic detective. She had been the one to get him to safety afterwards, to pay off the henchmen.
And then, with nothing more than a night spent together and a kiss goodbye, Jim Moriarty was gone from her life.
She missed him. She missed his voice, she missed how he tapped his fingers against everything. She even missed how he always kept everything in place in the apartment they shared. She even missed that stupid ringtone of his; the song "Staying Alive" that always went off at the worst possible times.
She missed her Moriarty; her sociopath; her consulting criminal.
But he wasn't really hers, was he? He belonged to no one. But Ashlyn could dream. She could reflect on his words and how he had told her he loved her, and proven it to her time and time again. But she could not own him, and she knew that. It would take away the thrill, as he put it when speaking about his latest plan, when asking Ashlyn if she would do this thing for him. If she would plant bombs or shoot someone for him.
She was just as guilty as he was. Yet, she was still in the apartment and Jim...
Jim wasn't.
Ashlyn tapped her fingers against the table the way he used to, thinking about him. She didn't have much time before she had to go to work. She had to keep up innocent appearances... Ashlyn glanced at the clock, the glowing letters standing out in what little light came through the closed curtains and shutters.
She remembered when they first met. She had hidden him, had kept him safe. All because she wanted to help a stranger.
She remembered when he had come home those days after pretending to be Molly Hooper's boyfriend, pretending to be gay. She despised that Molly Hooper. She remembered jealousy, accusing Jim of not loving her.
She remembered his promises, his reassurances. She remembered the two of them embracing, his touch comforting her.
She couldn't help but wonder how different her life would have been had she not met Jim Moriarty. Would she be living an honest life? Well, as honest as she would have gotten. She had a habit of lying, both to herself and to others.
Three years ago, she had nothing to wonder about.
But now, those thoughts strayed into her mind.
Ashlyn was snapped out of her thoughts by a knock on the door. Wondering who on earth it could be, she rose and went to go open it.
Behind the latch, behind the wooden door, there he was. He smiled at the sight of her, eyes seeming amused at her stunned expression. As soon as the door opened, she embraced him.
"I'm home." Jim whispered to her, holding his Ashlyn tightly.
"Took you long enough." Ashlyn mumbled against his shoulder.
Jim chuckled softly. She hadn't changed... "I missed you."
Ashlyn pulled back a little, blue eyes narrowing slightly at him. She slapped him across the face. Then, before he could move, put a hand to his stinging red cheek, she was kissing him, kissing him like there was no tomorrow. And he kissed her back, holding her close.
"Welcome home, Jim." Ashlyn whispered as she eventually pulled back, meeting his gaze.
"I'm guessing I have a lot to make up for?" Jim asked with a smile.
Ashlyn laughed softly, nodding once. "Yes, you do." She replies. Then, she got his hand, leading him inside and closing the door after them.
That night, both the consulting criminal and his liar both slept better than they had in three years.
