On The Last Night of The Year

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.

. . .

The deep steadying breath Ashley took was surprisingly loud in the silence of the room. As she inhaled her mind rushed through the conversation she had rehearsed. Sat opposite the older profiler, his dark eyes boring into her, Ashley felt like a child asking for help to get her out of trouble once more.

"I need your help," she muttered, biting into a hastily grabbed slice of toast. She hadn't really wanted it, but the action bought her time.

"I had gathered that much, the question is what with?" Dave looked sympathetically at the young recruit.

"My Father is dying, and he has requested that I visit before he dies," the words tumbled out.

"Oh," Dave instinctively reached a hand over to cover hers, giving a light squeeze, "How do you feel about that?"

Another huge sigh echoed around the room, "Honestly, I don't know. I'm angry, confused, jealous, intrigued, lost and scared."

Dave had to smile at her honesty.

"Well that gives us plenty to start with. Are you going to see him?"

"Yes," Ashley shot back, without giving the answer a thought.

"That was pretty definite," dave smiled reassuringly.

"I need to see him, I want answers. I just assumed I had longer," her eyes dropped back to the dregs in the bottom of her coffee mug, swirling it slowly as she became lost in her thoughts.

Taking the hint, Dave rose and brought the coffee pot over, topping his up at the same time as hers. Placing the pot on the table between them he helped himself to another slice of toast.

"If you had had another ten years, do you think you would have gone any sooner; or still be sitting here at the last minute?" Dave asked before taking a warming bite of his breakfast.

Ashley thought about the comment. Deep down she knew Dave was right - she would have procrastinated half her life - had it been possible. She had needed fate to force her hand, and now it had and she needed to take the opportunity. The decision to go was the easy part of the equation; the how she was going to deal with it when she got there was the hard part.

"I guess you are right."

"Of course I am," he said smugly. "But we are getting off track here. You wanted my help, and I guess it wasn't just as a sounding board. So where do I come into all of this?"

"I can't face him alone!" Ashley said starkly, her eyes leveled fully with his.

Dave sat back, resting against the cool bar at the back of the high stool, folding his arms across his chest, his eyes narrowed.

"Sorry, I thought . . ." Ashley's voiced tailed off as she picked at the remains of her toast.

"Hey Kid, I never said no."

"You didn't say yes either."

"I just needed to process it. It's a big ask, and I don't want to let you down," Dave said sincerely, lifting his coffee and drinking. "Facing your father doesn't bother me; done it before, I'll do it again. It's supporting you, that's what concerns me. You really think I'm the right person?"

Ashley nodded solemnly.

Sighing out a rush of air, Dave leant forward once more, cradling his coffee mug in his hands.

"I make no promises Ash other than I'm here," Dave paused to regain her full attention. "I don't have a magic wand and I can't fix the unfixable. But I'm here."

The two sat in silence for a while finishing their drinks as they contemplated all that had just passed. The only audible sound was the ticking of the clock as the seconds became minutes. There was no awkwardness between them, just understanding.

"So," Dave said, as he placed his mug down, "let's start at the beginning. How'd you find out?"

Ashley looked up, her mug returned firmly to the counter top, anger clouding her crystal blue eyes.

"The bastard put that little tip-bit in his Christmas card," she spat.

"Nothing like a little added cheer to the Yuletide," Dave added grimly.

"Yeah," Ashley continued, her voice tinged with the anger that he had seen in her eyes. "The best part being that I would never have opened the card if I had realised it was him. He's never sent me a card before, and the handwriting wasn't his. So I opened it. He fooled me."

"Would you have preferred not to know?"

Ashley shook her head, the inner turmoil of conflicting emotions beginning all over again. The washing machine effect in her stomach churning up the little contents it held.

"Shouldn't the authorities or prison or someone have let me know, not him?"

"Maybe," Dave replied with a shrug. "You think it's genuine? It would be easy enough to check. Think that is the best place to start. Though, even if he isn't dying, maybe it is time to face him. One way or another, it's time to move on, Ash."

"Yes," she whispered, nodding slowly as she accepted her immediate future. "But you'll come with me. I need you there. He can't do anything to me if you're there."

The fear in her eyes, that had moments before flared with anger, startled Dave. He began to understand how unstable her emotions were.

"Sure," he reassured. "But he can't do anything to you anyway. You will be safe."

Ashley shook her head franticly.

"He can," she hissed, "he can get back inside my head. He can lure me in, make me believe him again, and I need you to stop him from doing that!"

Her pleading expression cemented her words.

Dave nodded, collecting up the mugs and plate and taking them to the dishwasher. He needed a breather. Stacking the items inside and clearing down the counter top, Dave inwardly prayed that he could help Ashley.

He had sworn to himself that he would protect this girl from the moment he had met her. Remembering the wide-eyed teenager the day they bust the door in and seeing the trembling woman in his kitchen, he realised her journey over the past few years had been long and hard. However, now her destination was in view, he just hoped he could help her reach it.