Wilted Lillies
by Erin Griffin
Fandom: Murder In Suburbia
Pairing: unrequited (?) Ash/Scribbs
Disclaimer: Murder In Suburbia and all characters belongs to ITV.
Note: This is the sequel of sorts to 'Mocking Lillies'. It is little more than a drabble, I think, and I meant to get it out there a couple of days ago, but my internet is down, so I have only a little bit of time online now adays. Thank you to all who liked the first one. Unbeta'd.
I feel the storm brew within the police station even before I see you. I already know that its because 'The Newest One' had become 'My Ex Fill In the Blank'. I don't look up from the work in front of me, though my pen has been still over the paper for a minute now. If I concentrate, I can see the crisp brown where the once white lillies had been, fallen leaves floating idly on top of the water in the vase. I do not ask, nor do you offer any explaination on your foul mood, so it remains silent between us.
I am still unsure if it was you or me who distanced our friendship, but a new boundary had been set between us that hadn't been there before, even when we'd first met as partners. As sad as this makes me, I feel that maybe it's best. I won't have to fight the urge to do something stupid (again) whenever you're with 'the Newest One', whoever that may become, and you could go and have a nice time without worrying about my broken heart.
You finally look at me and ask if I'd like any coffee, but I'm not sure I like your cool tone, so I point to the mug on my gesk with a murmured, 'No thanks', even though I'd emptied it and do, in fact, want another. You leave, making slightly aggitated footsteps, and I take the time to watch your back as it disappears. I try to avert my eyes when I give into the fact that you're a goddess even when you look like hell. It's not fair.
When you come back, our eyes connect for the first time in days, and for the first time ever, I'm the one who turns away. I can still feel your eyes on me. After a moment, you ask me over to yours tonight. I tell you that I can't because I already made other plans. I tell you about the old school friend who asked me to dinner for a catch up chat. You end the conversation with a noncommital sound. A little while later, you ask, "Friday?"
At first, I had forgotten our previous conversation, but then I nod. If I could speak, I would say something like 'That is acceptable,' but I knew I'd only resemble Seven of Nine. Without the breasts, of course.
My mind stays on you tonight, like every night. In the morning, I see that the wilted lillies on my desk have been repleaced by fresh ones, the vase more than half full of clear water. The rhythm of my heart picks up speed as I drape my jacket over my chair and lean in to smell these new flowers.
To me, they smell like the promise of a new beginning...
