On The Last Night of The Year

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.

. . .

They entered her small apartment in the same silence that they had traveled back in. Dave knew Ashley needed time to process what had happened between her and her father.

Standing with his hands in his pockets, Dave watched as she went routinely through the daily actions of coming home. The keys on the kitchen counter top, coat in the cupboard, sneakers kicked off before she flopped onto the couch.

Dave stepped passed the hap-hazard footwear to perch himself on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. He took in her distance expression as she gazed past him and out of the window opposite.

"Ash, you ok? Do you want me to stay?" he asked softly, his brow furrowing as he noticed the sadness creep back into her light eyes.

"Please stay," she whispered.

"I'm right here Ash, right here," Dave said as he moved to sit beside her on the couch, putting a protective arm around her slender shoulders, pulling her to him.

Ashley snuggled into his strong arms, resting her head on his shoulder. They sat there without saying a word until the room darkened, physical company being the only thing that Ashley needed. Rising to switch a table top lamp on, she turned to Dave.

"Thank you."

"What for?" Dave smiled reassuringly. "I didn't do anything other then what I said. I told you I would be here and I will. This doesn't end today Ash, you know that as well as I do."

She nodded her agreement, before pushing off the couch to get a drink, for herself and Dave. Sat back down she passed the cheap tumbler to him, its contents far from cheap.

Dave smelt it appreciatively. "You have good taste."

She shrugged. "Can't think whose influence that could be?"

He smiled as he remembered the lazy nights that started with a beer and some gaming, and ended with a fine malt and vague ramblings of their inner thoughts.

"You did well today," he added, taking a sip from the glass, enjoying the burn as his swallowed the amber liquid.

"Really," Ashley spoke with a hint of surprise, "it doesn't feel like it."

"What did you expect?" Dave questioned, "You got more out of him then anyone who has tried before. You've seen the records, we caught him out pure dumb luck. He made a mistake after an eight year break. If Valerie Binks hadn't escaped and given us a description, we may never have caught him and he may well have started a second spate of killing, one he may not have been able to reign in."

"Great, so I got a better confession then you and Hotch, add it to my file, it may come in useful one day," her voice dripping in sarcasm, "Ashley Seaver, interviewer of the Redmond Ripper. Would you like me to make a formal record of what he said?"

"Ash that wasn't what I meant and you know it. What I'm trying to say is you got the truth, what you wanted. The reason you went to see him."

"No I didn't," she huffed, "I wanted a reason; I needed there to be an explanation for what he did to all of those women. All I got was some pathetic half excuse. There was no answer for my question."

"Is there any such thing as a reason to do what your father did? Was there anything he could have said today that would have excused his behavior?" Dave asked, hoping to help her make sense of the situation.

Ashley thought for a moment, she knew Dave was right, what excuse could there be for taking another's life, let alone repeatedly doing it in such a horrific way. She shook her head, letting the first of the tears she'd held in roll down her pale cheek.

"I guess I wanted to be proved wrong, that there was something I hadn't thought of; something that would make him my father again, instead of a serial killer," she sobbed.

Dave placed his glass down on the coffee table, reaching out his arms he pulled her tight. The rapid dampness of his shoulder combined with the racking sobs of her body let him know that she was finally releasing the tears she had held back for so long.

. . .

The early spring morning was bright yet cold. Glorious sunshine shone without any heat to its rays. The trees full of bright green leaves nestled next to fresh buds waiting to bloom. It was a truly beautiful day.

Ashley tried to focus on anything other than the dark wooden casket laid out in front of her. The phone call less than a week ago to inform her of her father's death had still been a shook, even though she knew to expect it.

Knowing he was dying made it none the easier. Standing beside his coffin, Ashley had to wonder if she had hated him she could have saved herself the pain of burying another parent. He had been right, a month or so ago, he was still her father, no matter what. It would be a lot easier to label him a monster and be done, but nothing was that simple. Emotions overrode her logic. He had raised her, loved her, provided for her and protected her. To her he had been the perfect parent, until that fateful day when his alter-ego had been revealed.

Dave hovered in the background, still keeping his promise to be there for her, no matter what. Silently stepping forward, his arm reaching effortlessly on her shoulders, as it did her head dipped to rest on his shoulder. His hand softly squeezed before he spoke.

"You okay Ash?"

"This is it, it is finally over."

Dave had to nod in agreement, there was definitely something final about the day, yet there was an element that nagged him still. Somehow he felt this was the end of the chapter, not the end of the book.

Ashley shrugged off his arm as she stepped forward to the deep grave, opening her bag Dave watched as several white envelopes fluttered into the hole.

"Are you sure?" Dave asked as her as he realised what she had just done.

"Yes," Ashley said with conviction, turning to face Dave. "In your own words: 'It's time to move on'. I am moving on, today is the start of my New Year."

Ashley walked away slowly, leaving behind all she owned of her past life. Dave stayed, staring and the blank space awaiting its occupant. The beginning of the end he thought to himself.

. . .

"Move on. It is just a chapter in the past but don't close the book just turn the page."

Anon