Subtext in Suburbia: The Ash/Scribbs Shipper Comm

IDF Fic: Sunday in Suburbia

Sun, 20 Jul 2008 20:00:24 GMT

Hi all! I didn't get a chance to cross post to here yesterday, so I figured better late than never.

Disclaimer: Murder in Suburbia and its characters are the property of ITV. No infringement intended.

Fandom: Murder in Suburbia

Pairing: Ash/Scribbs

Rating: 18

Beta: Thank you to ms_josephine

A/N: Written for International Day of Femslash, July 19, 2008. First time writing this fandom, be gentle.

Sunday in Suburbia

20 Ash/Scribbs Icons

Sat, 19 Jul 2008 18:58:27 GMT

Teasers:

(Fake cut to more at my lj.)

Fic: Something Good

Sat, 19 Jul 2008 17:04:19 GMT

Title: Something good
Author: the_girl_20
Fandoms: Murder in Suburbia & Waking the Dead
Pairings: Ash/Scribbs, Frankie/Mel
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine.
Summary: A weekend in London turns out to be quite eventful for Ash and Scribbs.
Notes: In honour of the International Day of Femslash.

“I still don’t see why we had to take leave.”

Scribbs rolled her eyes at her colleague’s huffy exclamation. It was at least the tenth time she’d made such a statement since lunch and it was starting to wear on her nerves a bit. They were walking down Oxford Street in London, dressed for an evening out. And Ash was still complaining about not being at work.

“Ash, the reason you are being forced to take leave is because it’s the end of the holiday year and you still have all of your leave entitlement left. Plus you must be due about six months time off in lieu with the hours you put in.”

“I don’t have all of my entitlement left,” Ash muttered.

“No, sorry, I forgot, there was that one day you took off for your cousin’s wedding.”

“Which I still say she could’ve had on a Sunday. Totally inconsiderate of those of us who work for a living.”

“Whatever. If I hadn’t forced you to come away you’d have sat at home doing paperwork and checking your e-mails.”

Ash pouted.

“You think I’m boring.”

“No, I think you’re mad.” Scribbs bumped Ash’s shoulder with her own. “C’mon, we’re in London for a long weekend of doing anything but work. Just relax and let me entertain you. I have it all planned.”

“Somehow the idea of you planning out my weekend for me doesn’t result in me feeling terribly relaxed.”

“Trust me, Ash, you’re going love it.”

Impulsively, Scribbs took Ash’s hand and held it as they walked. Ash didn’t protest.

When they arrived at their destination, Ash was pleasantly surprised. She eyed the posters outside the London Palladium with approval.

“I was convinced you were going to drag me to something awful, like that one with the green people in it.”

Scribbs shrugged.

”Well, I thought I couldn’t go wrong with ‘The Sound of Music’. You probably had a thing for the Captain when you were little, didn’t you? All that regimented discipline would’ve been right up your street.”

Ash raised an eyebrow.

“I…”

”On second thought, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.” Scribbs gestured for Ash to enter the theatre before her. She sighed as she watched Ash’s retreating back.

“No chance you fancied Julie Andrews, I suppose?” she whispered to herself before following Ash in.

*

They had settled into their very good seats in the stalls. Scribbs was organising her snacks for the performance and Ash was glancing disapprovingly at the various noise making foodstuffs in Scribbs’ lap. Scribbs raised her eyebrows, waiting for a comment. The lights went down so none came. They both turned their eyes to the stage, their arms gently tussling for the armrest. They settled for the compromise of sitting with their upper arms pressed together, practically leaning on one another.

Scribbs glanced to the side as the stage transformed itself into the Alps. Maria’s voice rang out in the silent theatre. Ash had a gentle smile on her lips which made every second that Scribbs had spent listening to her complaining worthwhile. She turned to take in the spectacle herself. Right at that moment, a bulky object chose to fall from the heavens into the orchestra pit, resulting in a cacophony of wrong notes and Maria shrieking something very un-nun-like.

Ash was on her feet immediately, making her way out of the row of seats. Scribbs sighed deeply and followed, apologising to the theatre-goers for Ash standing on their feet in her haste. By the time she caught up with her, Ash was already flashing her warrant card at the conductor and advising him to move his orchestra to the dressing rooms backstage.

“Ash,” Scribbs whispered, tugging on her sleeve.

“What?” Ash turned around, a huge smile on her face.

“What are you doing? We don’t have any jurisdiction here.”

Scribbs noticed that the audience were being herded out in the opposite direction and had a very strong compulsion to follow them.

“Go and take a look in there,” Ash said, nodding her head towards the orchestra pit.

Scribbs complied. In the midst of many abandoned instruments, lay a dead body. Scribbs closed her eyes. Only Ash could get excited about a dead body interrupting an evening at the theatre. With a growing feeling of dread in her stomach she traipsed back over to Ash. A couple of uniforms had turned up and Ash was having them secure the scene.

“Ash, I really don’t think we should be getting involved here.”

Ash dismissed that thought with a wave of her hand.

“Look, we’re detectives aren’t we? Do you see any other detectives around here? No, so we have the most knowledge in the room on what to do in this situation. Now go and question Maria.”

“What’s Maria going to know about it? For God’s sake Ash the body’s practically mummified, it’s hardly like she stuffed it up there this afternoon after the matinee is it?”

“Just go and question her.”

Ash was not being argued with and Scribbs did as she was told, fumbling in her bag to locate her own ID. She’d have to cover up the ‘Middleford’ bit with her finger if she was going to show it to anyone.

*

After completing her preliminary examination of the surrounding area, Ash busied herself with climbing into the orchestra pit to have a closer look at the body. The pungent, almost sweet, smell attacked her nostrils and she popped an extra strong mint into her mouth before getting closer. The body was obviously very old, as Scribbs had pointed out. The skin was brown and gooey looking. Ash took a pen out of her bag and used it to push the remnants of the corpse’s jacket aside.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Ash turned to see a woman in a forensic style jumpsuit glaring down at her. She stood up and held up her ID.

“Detective Inspector Ashurst, CID. And you are?”

“In charge of this scene. Get out of there and stop poking about in my body or I’ll have you arrested for tampering with evidence.”

Ash was not used to being spoken to in such a manner. She clambered out of the pit and approached the bolshy scientist, pulling herself up to her full height.

“Look, Ms…”

“Doctor. Wharton.”

“…Wharton, I was attending the performance here this evening with my partner which is why I stepped in to ensure that the scene was preserved and witnesses questioned at the earliest opportunity.”

“And you think that blundering in, dropping your bloody DNA all over the place is preserving the scene, do you?”

Ash’s mouth dropped open. Just as she was about to let the mouthy one have it, a young blonde stepped in between them.

“Hi, DS Mel Silver, pleased to meet you.”

Good breeding and manners prevented Ash from ignoring the introduction and she was forced to drag her eyes away from the brown ones boring into her.

“DI Kate Ashurst, Middleford CID.”

Mel held out her hand and Ash shook it.

“And I see you’ve met our Frankie,” Mel said, glancing over her shoulder where Frankie had made her way into the orchestra pit, still muttering.

“Yes. As I was explaining to Dr Wharton, I was in the audience with my partner and wanted to ensure the scene was preserved.”

Mel smiled.

“Yeah, Frankie’s a bit precious about her crime scenes. We’re with the Cold Case squad, we investigate unsolved crimes. Somebody tipped us off that this might be a bit of an old one.”

A raised voice startled Ash and she looked down to see one of the uniformed officers being shouted at by a tall, distinguished gentleman.

“That’s Boyd, he’s the DCI.” Mel explained.

“Are you all so personable down this way?” Ash enquired, watching the quaking officer practically run up the aisle.

Scribbs approached, eating a tub of ice-cream.

“The Maria didn’t have anything to offer. She’s a bit bonkers if you ask me. She spent most of the time wittering on about missing a high note when the body fell. She actually asked me if we could put it back up and drop it again so that she could prove she could do better.”

Ash rolled her eyes.

“Bloody theatre types. Scribbs, this is DS Silver. My partner, DS Emma Scribbins.”

“Mel, please,” Mel said, shaking Scribbs’ hand. “So, you down here on holiday?”

“A short break, yes,” Ash confirmed.

“Right, well, we shouldn’t keep you long. I’ll get DS Jordan to take your statement, Kate and I’ll do Emma if that’s OK with you.”

Ash felt her face grow warm at that suggestion. Mel had turned and was beckoning to an attractive black man.

“Wait, how will you keep us updated on the development of the case?” Ash asked.

“We don’t bloody need to know about the case, Ash.” Scribbs muttered.

“Well, I…we don’t normally inform witnesses about the progression of an investigation…” Mel began, uncertainly.

“Of course you don’t, it’s fine, she’s just a little uptight at the moment, which is why we’re on holiday to relax, isn’t that right, Kate?” Scribbs said, firmly.

Mel looked from one to the other and came to a decision. She scribbled an address down in her notebook and pressed it into Ash’s hand.

“Look, if you both happen to be in there for a drink tomorrow night at around 8, then I might be able to let you know what’s going on with the case, colleague to colleague.”

Ash smiled and Scribbs groaned. DS Jordan arrived and led Ash away to take her statement. She could barely concentrate on what he was saying. Her attention was drawn by the way Scribbs seemed to be standing awfully close to DS Silver. And by the loud peals of laughter that erupted from the paid every now and again. And Ash didn’t like it. Not one bit.

*

The following evening, Scribbs walked dutifully beside Ash as she theorised on how a body came to be left in the rafters of the London Palladium.

“…I mean, why somewhere so public? And why in such a precarious place? It’s all very intriguing, isn’t it?”

“Hmmm? Oh, yeah, intriguing. This is the place, isn’t it?”

Ash glanced up at the sign outside the pub.

“Yes, this is it, come on.”

The entered and approached the bar. Scribbs tried to get the attention of the barmaid. Ash was looking around curiously. Unexpectedly, she grasped Scribbs’ elbow.

“What is it?”

Ash leaned in close to Scribbs, speaking in a low whisper.

“Scribbs…there are no men in this pub.”

A quick once over of the room confirmed Ash’s assertion.

“You’re right, Ash.”

“Scribbs, I think this may be a lesbian bar.”

Scribbs almost laughed out loud at the hushed emphasis.

“Yep, think you’re right again, Ash. I hadn’t noticed.”

“You really should try to be more observant, Scribbs. You’ll find it a great help in your role as a detective,” Ash lectured.

“Yeah, well, I’m not at work, am I? I’m in a lesbian bar with you.”

Ash paled.

“But…but why would she want us to meet her here?” she asked.

Scribbs looked over Ash’s shoulder.

“Well, here she is, why don’t you ask her?”

Ash turned to see Mel enter, followed closely by Frankie. She turned back to Scribbs, wearing a pained expression.

“Oh, no.”

“What?”

“She brought the moody one with her.”

Scribbs raised her hand to catch Mel’s attention, and raised her eyebrow when Mel took Frankie’s hand and laced their fingers together, dragging her in the direction of the bar. Well, that solved the mystery of the meeting location. Mel let go of Frankie’s hand just before they arrived beside Ash.

“Hiya, you found it then?” Mel asked.

“Oh yes, we found it fine,” Scribbs confirmed.

“Emma, this is Frankie, I don’t think you met yesterday,” Mel said, standing back so that they could shake hands.

Ash’s lips were pressed together so tightly they were turning white. She glanced at Scribbs before turning to Mel.

“So…this is…an unusual choice for a meeting place,” she said, offering a big, fake smile.

Mel looked confused for a moment before realisation dawned.

“Oh God…you mean…that is, the two of you aren’t…”

“No,” Scribbs answered, a little wistfully.

“Oh Jesus, I’m sorry. I just assumed…” she turned to Ash “…when you said she was your partner…”

“She’s my work partner. We work together.” Ash stated, firmly.

Frankie was taking the scene in with a quiet air of amusement, smirking at the blush that was gradually rising up Ash’s neck. Ash caught the look and narrowed her eyes at the scientist, who raised a single eyebrow in response. Ash sighed.

“I’m going to the toilet, I’ll need a drink for when I get back.”

The last part was directed at Scribbs, who dutifully hailed the barmaid. Frankie sidled up so that her shoulder was pressed against Scribbs’.

“Soooooo, how long have you fancied her?” she asked.

“Frankie!” Mel hissed, slapping Frankie lightly on the arm.

“I…ages,” Scribbs admitted, deciding there was no point in lying.

“She fancies you too, you know. She just hides it well under her uptight, tense, work-obsessed demeanour,” Frankie offered. Mel snorted.

“What?” Frankie asked, turning to her girlfriend.

“Eh? Oh, nothing…just you calling someone uptight and work-obsessed…it amused me,” Mel said with a smile.

“Why?”

“Well, it just seems a bit rich coming from a woman who gets her milk and newspaper delivered to ‘The woman in the white coat, the lab, the police station’.”

Scribbs laughed along with Mel while Frankie pouted.

“Yeah, but at least I loosen up when I’m on holiday. That woman would need an enterotome to draw a smile out of her.”

Frankie laughed. Scribbs looked at Mel, questioningly. Mel rolled her eyes.

“Mad scientist humour,” she explained. “She doesn’t realise that normal people don’t get it.”

Frankie stopped laughing and scowled at Mel, who shoved her good-naturedly.

“Look, Ash really isn’t as bad as you’re making her out to be…yes she’s a little uptight, but she’s a really good laugh when you get to know her. She’s funny and sweet and weird and…”

“And we get the picture, thanks,” Frankie interjected.

“When you said that she fancied me…why do you think that?” Scribbs asked, curious.

“It’s obvious. I’m no detective, but her body-language is completely indicative of possession, she wants people to know that you’re hers and you’re not to be approached. And every time you speak to Mel she gets just a little more tense, though how that’s possible I don’t know. She’s jealous.” Frankie finished, nodding.

Mel was impressed.

“Since when are you the big expert on human interactions? You cut up dead people for a living.”

“My sphere of expertise in the area is restricted to chatting up women in bars…I can pick out the ones that are taken a mile off.”

Mel’s foot was tapping.

“Is that so?”

Frankie realised her mistake.

“Of course, that was a while ago, when I was single.”

“Mmmhmm. And if you’re such an expert at reading women, how come it took you so long to realise that I was pining away for you?”

“You hid it better than these two.”

“Now hang about…” Scribbs began.

Frankie continued, ignoring Scribbs.

“If you hadn’t got pissed and thrown yourself at me at the Christmas do, I’d still be none the wiser.”

“I didn’t throw myself at you,” Mel protested.

“You did. Quite literally, given that you could barely stand.”

“I may have stumbled.”

“You may have had fourteen vodka and cokes.”

“Which may have led to me plucking up the courage to…”

“Snog the face off me?” Frankie suggested.

“Yes.”

“Well, thank God for Smirnoff is all I can say!”

Scribbs watched the playful exchange of banter with a sad smile on her face. Frankie and Mel seemed to have the same kind of effortless connection that she shared with Ash. Only, she imagined, they probably had a bit of sex alongside the banter.

“So, are you planning on ever asking her out? Or are you going to be following her around with that puppy-dog expression for the rest of your life? Longing and randy?” Frankie asked, causing Scribbs to blush quite deeply and Mel to shake her head.

“Honestly, Frankie, do you need to be so blunt to people you’ve just met?”

“I’m trying to be helpful!” Frankie objected. She turned back to Scribbs. “Unless you enjoy pining after her? Maybe you’ve got a bit of a masochistic streak?”

Scribbs looked confused.

“No, of course I’m not planning to spend the rest of my life pining away for her. As for the masochism thing…I once did a thing with a whip that I quite enjoyed, but apart from that I hav-“

“Yeah, OK, let’s leave it at that, shall we?” Frankie said before Scribbs over-shared. “As I am, apparently, the only one who knows how to deal with women here…”

“Oi!” Mel said, folding her arms across her chest. Frankie ignored her.

“I have a proposal which might help your situation.”

Scribbs sighed and nodded for Frankie to continue. Her own efforts hadn’t paid off. She might as well take advice from a sarcastic scientist that she’d known for approximately five minutes.

*

Ash returned from the toilet to find Frankie leaning against the bar, drinking from a bottle of beer. Ash rolled her eyes, steeling herself for the woman’s conversation. Frankie caught her eye and gestured towards a drink sitting at her elbow.

“She got you a gin and tonic,” she explained as Ash picked up the drink and sniffed it gingerly before taking a sip.

Ash glanced around the room.

“Where is ‘she’?” she asked, emphasising the word Frankie had chosen to describe Scribbs.

“She’s playing pool with Mel over there.”

Ash followed Frankie’s gaze and frowned.

“Scribbs is awful at pool. Actually, she’s awful at most things that involve hand-eye co-ordination. She was barred from the station’s darts team after a near-miss involving the Chief Superintend….”

Ash’s voice trailed off as Mel got in behind Scribbs, her hips fitting snugly against Scribbs’ bum as they leaned over the table. Mel’s arms and hands draped over Scribbs’ own as they lined up a shot. Frankie hid a smile before replying.

“That’s what she said too, Mel offered to give her some tips,” Frankie said, watching as Ash’s ears turned red at the mention of Mel’s name.

Ash smiled tightly.

“Well, wasn’t that just lovely of her?”

She picked up her drink and tipped it down her throat in one, slamming the glass down onto the bar. She wiped her mouth and gestured to the barmaid.

“Another G&T. And make it a double.”

*

Several doubles later, and Ash’s mouth had slackened considerably. She was regaling Frankie with many, many tales of policing in suburbia. Frankie was drinking at a much slower rate and kept checking her watch, wondering why her plan wasn’t working as quickly as she’d hoped.

“…and she said to him, ‘I don’t give a stuff if you are a member of the royal family, wanking in public isn’t allowed!’” Ash shook her head fondly at the memory of Scribbs’ brush with minor royalty. “That’s what I like about Scribbs…she’s straightforward. And honest. And she treats everybody the same. I like that.”

Frankie leaned forward. This she could work with.

“What else do you like about her?”

Ash’s eyebrows gathered up in thought, her nose starting to crinkle a little with the effort. Finally, she settled on an answer that she was satisfied with. She fixed Frankie with a very serious look.

“I like everything about her.”

Frankie was taken aback by the honesty of the answer. She opened her mouth to respond but couldn’t think of what to say. Ash took this for a lack of understanding and continued with her explanation.

“I mean, she frustrates the hell out of me, rushing into things and relying on some weird instinct thing that she seems to have, and saying the first thing that comes into her head, no matter how inappropriate…but despite all that, I know that her heart is always in the right place and that every single thing about her is genuine…so there isn’t anything about Scribbs that I could point to and say I don’t like that.”

Ash closed one eye and pursed her lips.

“Well, she had a bit of a dodgy fringe for a while that I wasn’t too keen on, but that’s sorted now.”

Frankie laughed at the addendum to Ash’s ode to Scribbs’ perfection. She nudged Ash with her elbow.

“Earlier on, when Mel thought the two of you were partners…you were pretty vehement in your denial. Something tells me now that you wouldn’t be completely opposed to the idea of being Emma’s partner.”

Ash sighed deeply.

“Well, there’s not much chance of that, I’m afraid. Scribbs has a tendency to go for completely inappropriate men.” She glanced over to where Scribbs and Mel were laughing, Scribbs had a hand on Mel’s shoulder and their foreheads were close together. “And, apparently, very nice, young, blonde women.”

Frankie smiled.

“If you went over there right now and asked her to go back to your hotel with you, she’d do it without a thought.”

Ash looked at her doubtfully.

“I know she would. That’s because she’d get lost if I left her here on her own and she’d phone me in the middle of the night from some abandoned tube station in the middle of nowhere that she’d somehow managed to get herself to, begging me to come and find her.”

“Which you would.”

“Yes, I would.”

“Lack of sense of direction, aside, I think she likes everything about you as well,” Frankie tried again.

Ash scoffed.

“No she doesn’t! She thinks I’m a snob…and uptight and repressed and…”

“’Funny and sweet’ was how she chose to describe you earlier.”

Ash’s head whipped around.

“Earlier? When?”

“When you were at the loo and she was telling me how much she fancied you but that you were completely oblivious,” Frankie said, finally running out of patience with the indirect approach.

Ash’s mouth fell open. Then her eyes narrowed.

“Are you lying?” she asked.

Frankie rolled her eyes.

“Look, Mel is my girlfriend. The reason she is currently flirting with Emma is because I said it would be a good idea to make you jealous, OK?”

Ash looked dumbstruck. She blinked a few times. Then she placed her empty glass on the bar and walked over to where Mel and Scribbs were standing chatting, having finished their game of pool. Frankie followed at a discreet distance, hoping that her more direct tactics wouldn’t backfire. Ash tapped Mel on the shoulder.

“Excuse me.”

Mel turned around and stepped aside, casting a questioning look at Frankie, who shrugged.

Ash stood for a moment, looking at a very worried Scribbs. Then she leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss against her mouth. She drew back to gauge the reaction, but didn’t get far before Scribbs grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her in for another, far less chaste, attempt.

Mel made her way over to Frankie, grinning. Frankie wound an arm around Mel’s waist and they both watched the newly formed couple become quite acquainted with one another’s tonsils.

When they finally tore themselves apart, strands of Ash’s hair had started to come loose and Scribbs’ lipstick was all but a memory.

“Do you want to go back to the hotel?” Ash asked, slightly out of breath.

“Bloody right I do!” Scribbs answered, immediately.

Ash’s wide smile gave way to a concerned frown.

“Just to clarify, that’s ‘do you want to go back to the hotel to have sex?’. You know, with me.”

Scribbs laughed a little before kissing Ash squarely on the nose.

“Yeah, I picked up on that bit. Answer’s still a resounding yes.”

“Right,” Ash said, pleased. “Well that’s super.”

“Super, smashing, jolly hockey-sticks, whatever. Let’s just get going,” Scribbs urged, pulling Ash towards the door.

On the way she managed a thumbs-up in Frankie and Mel’s direction, which was returned by both. Once the door had closed behind Ash and Scribbs, Frankie and Mel both turned around and leaned their elbows on the bar, sighing in relief.

“Thank God for that,” Mel said.

“What are you so relieved at?” Frankie asked, incredulously. “I’m the one that had to sit and listen to amusing anecdotes about policing in the sticks for the whole night. You got to flirt with a cute blonde. Which is by far one of my favourite things to do,” she added, bumping Mel’s hip with her own.

“Oh, Emma was lovely and a really good laugh,” Mel agreed. “But I was thinking that if things didn’t start moving, I was gonna have to snog her. And I wasn’t sure how that would go down with you.”

Frankie shook her head.

“Mel, if things hadn’t started moving I was going to tell you to throw her down on the pool table and have sex with her, never mind all this snogging rubbish!”

“Well, thankfully it didn’t come to that,” Mel said, leaning over to peck Frankie on the lips.

Mel’s phone beeped, signalling that a text message had arrived. A second later, Frankie’s did the same. They both reached into their pockets and pulled out their mobiles.

Frankie smiled.

“It’s Emma texting to say thank you.”

Mel laughed.

“Mine isn’t. Mine is Kate texting to say that as we never got around to the update on the case, could I please send my report to her work e-mail address.”

“Bloody hell, imagine thinking about work when you’re about to get a shag,” Frankie said, shaking her head.

“Says the woman who once shouted out ‘haemoperfusion!’ in the middle of sex.”

“It came to me suddenly. And it was an important breakthrough in the case.”

“It was a bit of a passion killer though, wasn’t it?”

Frankie tilted her head to the side and smiled.

“But you love me anyway, eh?”

Mel rolled her eyes dramatically.

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for a woman in a lab coat.”

Frankie reached out and hooked her pinkie around Mel’s, swinging their hands gently back and forth.

“How about we head home and I try to not shout out any medical terms in the throes of passion?”

Mel smiled.

“Can we get chips on the way?”

“Definitely.”

“Sold.”

FF: Breaking Up is Hard to Do

Sat, 19 Jul 2008 14:24:19 GMT

Fandom: Murder in Suburbia
Pairing: Ash/Scribbs
A/N: IDF all the way. Thanks to Ann for the beta.

Ash looked at herself in the mirror and tried to harden her resolve. She'd thought about this, long and hard, and her conclusion had been inescapable; she had to break things off with Scribbs, it was the only logical course of action. Admittedly, she'd miss the sex, which had been surprisingly good and imaginative, but she'd been without sex before, and even though it might be hard, she knew she could do it. Of course, there would be tension, at first, but she was sure they could quickly rebuild their professional relationship and become an even more affective crime fighting team than before.

The image in the mirror frowned as Ash imagined herself dressed as Batman and fighting crime. "This is ridiculous," she told herself, once more straightening her immaculate attire.

She had gone over her reasons for ending the relationship countless times in her mind and no matter how she'd tried to sway the results - which she'd done far more than she was comfortable admitting, even to herself - it always came out the same. If she and Scribbs stayed together, their relationship was bound to come to light, and when that happened, they'd both be assigned new partners and the crime figures in Middleford would go through the roof. Ash had her fair share of ego, but she knew that the main reason their clear up rate was so high was because she and Scribbs worked so well together, intuitively understanding where the other was going and running with the idea until the culprit was captured and the suburbs were once again safe.

Her frown returned.

The dissolution of the most fulfilling and important relationship in her life would, Ash knew, have its consequences, but she had to keep reminding herself that she was a police officer first and a woman in love second. What did it matter if she ended up alone, with a thousand cats and no friends to speak of, so long as she fulfilled her duties as a police officer?

Her frown deepened alarmingly, but she quickly banished the thought.

She would make it as painless as possible. A quick, straightforward declaration of intent, followed by a collection of her property from Scribbs' flat and a solitary and, no doubt, tear-filled drive home. She could do it. She could set them both free and ensure that their careers were safe.

Bile rose in the back of Ash's throat, but she refused to show that kind of weakness. She was doing what was right. She was. She knew it was for the best for both herself and Scribbs.

Closing the bathroom door firmly behind her, Ash went in search of the other heart she was about to break. Scribbs was lounging - she really would need to repeat her rules on posture - in front of the television, idly flicking from one channel to another as she munched on Pringles and deposited crumbs all over the floor - that was another lecture that obviously needed repeating - not that Ash would be in any position to give lectures, she realised, at least until the mourning period was over and they could resume their previous friendship.

"Scribbs," Ash's voice came out far deeper than normal, and she was forced to clear her throat before trying again. "Scribbs?"

"Hmhh?"

"We need to talk." It was the worst opening line imaginable, but Ash couldn't think of anything more suitable. "I think that... You see, I've thought about this and thought about it, and I think... That is, I feel we should..." She would have screamed if she wasn't convinced the neighbours would call 999, and they'd end up the laughingstock of the station. "Break up."

Half a Pringle fell from Scribbs' mouth to land, forgotten, on the carpet. "No," said the blonde, before turning back to the television and studiously avoiding her lover's eyes.

"Scribbs, I've made a decision."

"No," Scribbs repeated. "N. O."

"You can't say 'no'."

"Yes, I can." Scribbs switched off the television and turned her full attention on Ash. "No, see, I can say it just fine. We are not breaking up and that's final."

In all Ash's hours of preparation and soul searching she had never once considered this possibility; what do you do when the person you're breaking up with doesn't want your relationship broken? "If we're discovered, it would mean..."

"Someone wins the pool, and Sullivan can give us the engagement party I know he's been planning." Scribbs was rather looking forward to the day the word got out and she could stop pretending she didn't want to rip Ash's clothes off and do naughty things to her in the stationary cupboard. "If anyone tries to mess with your career, they'll have the equal opportunities lot after them, not to mention the DCI and half the station, and if you're worried about being partnered with someone else, don't. If it happens, and that's still an if, I'll talk them through it and make sure they're up to speed lickety-split."

"Do you really think Sullivan is planning to throw us an engagement party?" Ash asked, momentarily derailed from her purpose.

"Yes."

Her frown returned. "It's not just work," she said, even though it mostly was. "Your mother hates me."

"No she doesn't."

"She made me sleep in the garage when we stayed over on Boxing Day."

"They'd had it converted into a bedroom," Scribbs shrugged. "Sort of."

"Sort of? I couldn't get the smell of oil out of my clothes for weeks."

"Besides, your mother loves me, and she'd be devastated if things went south." That was true; Mrs Ashurst had thrown away a lifetime of conservative ideals to welcome Scribbs into her home like a long-lost daughter, and Ash knew she'd never hear the end of it when she told her that they'd broken up. "See," Scribbs said smugly. "We're much better off staying together."

Ash had been so clearheaded and resolute when she was in the bathroom, but two minutes in Scribbs' company and she was reduced to a confused mess. She turned around and headed back into the cool serenity of the bathroom, slumping down on the closed toilet seat and resting her head in her hands in defeat.

Fifty-eight seconds later, a tap sounded at the door, and it eased open just wide enough for Scribbs to squeeze through. She took up position perched on the edge of the bath. "Do you really want to end things?" she asked.

"It's for the best," Ash mumbled, although she was no longer sure if that was true.

The defeat in Ash's voice was Scribbs' undoing. "Don't you love me anymore?"

Ash looked up, confusion clearly written on her face. "Of course I love you, you idiot, what on Earth made you think that?"

In the fifteen months they'd been dating and the three years before that they'd been friends, Scribbs could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she'd wanted to kill Ash, but this time put all those others to shame. "What do you mean, 'what on Earth made you think that'? You trying to break up with me, what else?" They were in the bathroom, she thought, she could easily drown Ash in the tub and be on the first jet plane out of there in the morning.

"But I never said that I'd stopped loving you."

"It was implied."

"Hardly."

"Strongly," Scribbs argued. "And, do you know what? You're right, maybe we should break up." She got up, left the bathroom, and slammed the door in Ash's face.

Her life had turned into a French farce, Ash realised, but she quickly followed Scribbs into the living room to begin round three of their argument. "Then you agree that it would be best for our careers and the crime rate if we broke up?" she asked.

Scribbs purposefully stomped the lounging Pringle into the carpet. "No, I think it will be the worst thing imaginable for our careers and the crime rate in Middleford if we break up, but right at this minute, I don't want anything more to do with you." She wished she'd saved the crisp stomp for the end of her tirade, but she had to make do with a frown. "I think you should leave."

"No."

Scribbs carefully weighed the chances of her being able to drag Ash kicking and screaming out the door without being arrested for assault and promptly gave up that idea. "Fine, if you're not going to leave, I will."

"You can't!"

"Just watch me."

"Scribbs! Emma!" Scribbs paused momentarily in her hunt for her keys. "You're wearing your pyjamas." They were very cute pyjamas, of which Ash was exceedingly fond, but she doubted the rest of Middleford would appreciate one of its law enforcement officers prowling the streets in baggy shorts and a T-shirt that read 'Kiss me, I'm a deviant'.

Scribbs looked down at the nightwear in question and promptly gave up her search for her keys.

"I'm sorry," Ash apologised, quickly grabbing the only opportunity available to her before Scribbs realised she had a whole closet-full of clothes waiting for her in the next room. "I never meant to imply that I didn't love you." She took a tentative step closer. "It's because I love you that I wanted to break up." She held up a hand to forestall Scribbs' comment. "I know you might not understand, but I can't face the idea that one day you'll look back on your ruined career and blame me." Her voice lost all its force, and Scribbs had to lean forward to hear her last words, "I couldn't handle it if you ever regretted loving me."

"Okay, first," said Scribbs. "You're an idiot. Secondly, you're a stupid, dumb idiot."

"That's just..."

"Don't even think about finishing that sentence," she warned. "Thirdly, if it comes to a choice between the woman I love and my sodding career, I'd pick you every single time, and I wouldn't even have to think about it." Scribbs' voice took on an edge of uncertainty. "I know your career is very important to you, and you probably don't feel the same way, but I would..."

"What do you mean? Of course I'd put you above my career." Ash sounded hurt, even though nearly every word out of her mouth after she'd left the bathroom the first time could have easily supported Scribbs' hypothesis.

"Okay." Scribbs nodded, somewhat confused about the entire conversation and exactly where it left them. "So, I love you, you love me, and we'd neither of us put our jobs first... Good. So does that mean we're staying together?"

"Yes." Ash made a mental note never to spend more than twenty seconds in the bathroom thinking, it obviously deranged her mind. "We're staying together, we're informing Sullivan, and we're letting him throw us an engagement party." Her smile quirked. "Does that mean we're entering into a civil partnership?"

"Getting married, yes." Scribbs had never considered herself the marrying kind, but after talking with Ash's mum a few months before, she'd realised that she wanted to plight her troth, or whatever the civil partnership equivalent was to Ash, as witnessed by all their friends and family. It was dead corny, and she'd never put it in such words to any of her drinking pals, but that was the truth of the matter. "If you want to," she added.

"Shouldn't one of us have got down on one knee?" Ash asked.

"No, we do things on an equal footing." Scribbs smiled. "But if you want Champagne and a posh dinner somewhere so you'll have a better story to tell your folks, I'm okay with that."

Ash thought back to their first time together, when they'd slipped from talking about some God-awful film on Channel 4 to kissing and removing each others' clothes without so much as a polite segue to discuss their feelings, and she knew that conventional romance just wasn't for them. "No, I think this story is more us."

"So, we're getting married?"

"We're getting married."

Scribbs quickly closed the distance between them and deposited the sweetest of kisses on her fiancée's lips; she'd get the vacuum cleaner out later to tackle the embedded Pringle, but for now, she was too busy sweeping her lady off her feet to worry about the lecture she'd receive come morning.

Cross-post to passion_perfect

IDF Fic: Conspiracy Theory

Sat, 19 Jul 2008 10:02:06 GMT

Title: Conspiracy Theory
Author: Ann
Fandom: Murder in Suburbia
Pairing: Ash/Scribbs
Word Count: 2395
Written in joyous celebration of International Day of Femslash
Disclaimer: Murder in Suburbia and its characters are the property of ITV. No infringement intended.
Summary: Ash is framed.

A very special thank you to mrswoman for taking on the job of beta for this fic as well as the 22 others and especially for agreeing to write her specialty, Birds of Prey, as part of the IDF fandom series. Thanks, Deb, I truly do appreciate it.

A huge round of applause for ralst as well for the additional ‘English-izing’ of the fic.

“C’mon, Ash; it’s only for a week.” Scribbs extended her leg and pushed her sock-covered toes up under the hem of her lover’s trousers. Ash jerked her leg away and stood, effectively removing herself from temptation.

“We don’t have time to play footsie; we’re already late.” She reached for her plate and moved toward the sink to place her dinnerware in the soapy water.

“But what about our holiday?” Scribbs pouted and took another sip of her Sugarpuff drink.

“Scribbs, we’ve talked about this; we have to be careful. We simply can’t take the chance of being seen together on a cruise.” Rinsing off the now clean plate, Ash placed it in the drainer. She eyed Scribbs’ glass.

“It’s a gay cruise, Ash. If anyone sees us there, then they’d be gay, too.” Scribbs downed the rest of her drink in a single gulp. Ash grimaced, not understanding the allure of the rather disgusting concoction.

“For the last time – no, Scribbs. Anyone could see us getting on or off the ship. Now, hurry along; we have an interview with the murder victim’s widow at nine sharp.” Wiping her hands on the tea towel, Ash headed for the bedroom to retrieve her jacket, leaving her lover behind to sulk.

Scribbs stared at the clock for another five minutes before she finally rose from the table. She would get Ash on that ship, one way or another.

**********

“Mrs. Foxworthy, approximately what time did your husband leave for his business trip?” Ash took a bite of the rather hard biscuit, hoping she hadn’t just loosened a tooth. She reached for her tea and made a face at its lukewarm temperature. Scribbs chuckled under her breath.

“Exactly what kind of business was your husband attending to?” Scribbs pushed her cup to the side and pretended to write in her notebook. Judging from the look on Ash’s face, the tea must have been quite horrid.

“Um, he’s a dealer in antiquities, um, relics from the past. He was on his way to the Museum of Antiquities in Newcastle. I believe he was to make a sale for a client. He left around six, yesterday morning.” The woman’s hand shook slightly as she lifted her cup to her lips. Ash was certain the cool tea wouldn’t offer her any relief.

“How long was he planning to stay?” Ash followed Scribbs’ lead and placed her cup beside her partner’s. She’d drunk just enough to wash the biscuit down her throat.

“A few days.” Tears filled the widow’s eyes. “I can’t believe someone would kill him over some stupid shield.”

“Shield?” Scribbs sat up straighter. This was the first they’d heard of a possible motive.

“Yes, I can’t remember its significance, but Robert planned to sell it to the museum.”

Ash pushed to her feet and motioned for her partner to do the same. “Well, thank you for the information, Mrs. Foxworthy. We’ll check into this further. And, thank you for your time.” Ash gave the widow one final nod, before moving toward the door.

Scribbs offered a half-smile to Mrs. Foxworthy and quickly followed Ash, curious about their sudden departure. Neither woman said a word until they were belted into their seats.

“Something odd is going on here.” Ash glanced back at the front door of the Foxworthy residence. “The Museum of Antiquities is closed. Their collections are being moved to The Great North Museum. It won’t open until next spring.”

“Surely Foxworthy knew,” said Scribbs, checking the mirror, before wheeling into the street. She glanced over at her partner. “How did you know about the museum being closed?”

“Remember those phone calls from my mother every Saturday? She truly is a wealth of information. Although, this is the first time my attention to her conversation has actually paid off.”

“I didn’t realize you paid attention.” Scribbs grinned, recalling an instance when she’d decided to distract a bored-looking Ash. “Hey, remember that time your mother called, and I knelt down in front of you and . . .”

Ash flushed a bright, crimson shade and quickly cut off Scribbs. “Yes, I remember.” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “But we need to focus on the case at the moment.”

Scribbs grinned, noting the increase in Ash’s respiration. She’d often wondered if Mrs. Ashurst actually believed her daughter’s story that Ash had spilled ice cold water on herself. Scribbs had to admit though – such a scream would have been similar to the one Ash had given that day.

“So, why don’t I go check out Foxworthy’s bank account, while you go see if you can find anything at his office? Sullivan wants some answers today. You can drop me off at the bank.”

“You sure? You might have to wait awhile.” Scribbs eased into the other lane. The victim’s bank was located just a few streets away.

“There are some shops in the area. I can look in the various windows while I wait.” Ash sounded less than enthusiastic about window shopping, but she knew time was of the essence if they were going to catch Foxworthy’s killer. The key was the shield.

Scribbs grinned, knowing how much Ash despised shopping. She pulled next to the curb in front of the bank. “I’ll be as quick as I can, Ash.”

“I’ll be just fine, Scribbs.” Ash climbed from the car and turned back to address her partner. “I *can* window shop, you know.” Pasting on a smile, she slammed the car door, muttering under her breath. “If I have to, that is.”

Scribbs just shook her head and reached for her mobile as she pulled into traffic. She knew it was against the law to use the mobile while driving, but seeing as how Ash wasn’t around to chastise her, she figured it was worth taking the risk that her partner wouldn’t somehow find out what she’d done later.

Standing on the pavement, Ash just missed seeing Scribbs’ impropriety as she turned and walked toward the bank’s entrance. She was counting on Foxworthy’s bank statements to show some sign of impropriety.

**********

The next day, Ash was forcefully pulled into a toilet cubicle as she passed by its door. The door quickly closed and locked behind her before she could face her attacker. A mop of blonde hair gave her the first clue as to the identity of her abductor.

“Scribbs! Are you mad?” Ash’s whispered shout hadn’t been necessary. There wasn’t anyone else in the vicinity.

“We’ve got problems, Ash.” Scribbs kept her voice lowered as well, only she added a left to right glance with her tone as if looking for a hidden person, or perhaps a hidden camera.

Ash stiffened. Had someone found out about the two of them? “Someone knows?”

“Huh?” Scribbs was momentarily side-tracked, but quickly gathered her bearings. “No, that’s the least of our worries.”

“What could be worse?” Ash was really worried now. Were there photographs?

“Rumor has it there’s a copper on the take.”

That got Ash’s attention. “CID or uniformed?”

“A detective, specifically a Detective Inspector.”

Ash furrowed her brow and quickly ran through the possibilities. “Well, that certainly narrows it down, doesn’t it?”

“A female Detective Inspector.”

Scribbs mentally counted: 1, 2, 3 . . .

“What? That’s preposterous. I’m not on the take!” Ash’s whisper was as loud as it could possibly be to still be considered a hushed tone.

“Keep your voice down, Ash. Do you want the others to know you’re here?”

“What do you mean? Of course, I’m here. I work here.”

“CIB are in with Sullivan, Ash. They want a word with you.”

Ash stared at her partner. Scribbs wouldn’t joke about something so serious, would she?

“If you’re lying . . .”

“I swear, Ash; it’s true. There’s physical evidence.”

“How can there be physical evidence? I’m not on the take!!!” Ash’s face turned bright red and her breathing became erratic. Worried her partner was on the verge of hyperventilating, Scribbs guided Ash backward until her lover was sitting, trousers still in place, on the toilet.

“Now, there’s no need to get upset. Sullivan is behind you one hundred percent. He’s going over the video as we speak. He’ll find some way to prove your innocence.”

Ash’s head snapped up. “Video? Oh God . . .” She leaned over and placed her head between her knees.

Moving her hand to her partner’s back, Scribbs began to rub soothing circles. “Yeah, just a few shots of you at the bank today and then window shopping in front of a jeweler’s and then a lingerie shop.” Scribbs smiled; she knew why Ash had stopped at the lingerie shop. In fact, she’d planned to wear the little black number Ash had bought for her tonight.

“But . . .” Ash started but quickly had to put her head back down when black spots suddenly appeared before her eyes. She couldn’t believe someone had seen her inside the lingerie shop, buying a sexy, black teddy for Scribbs. No one would ever believe she’d bought it for herself.

“It’ll be okay, Ash. Sullivan and I have a foolproof plan. Here’s what we’re going to do . . .”

**********

The sun shone brightly across the upper deck of the ship, offering a source of vitamin D as well as harmful UVA and UVB rays to the rows and rows of sunbathers. A lone figure stood along the side of the ship, well away from the sunbathers; however, no one in their right mind would have mistaken the woman for someone who was seeking a tan.

She wore a white, gauzy, long-sleeved shirt and matching long trousers over her bathing suit, the likes of which would never see the light of the day – inside the cabin perhaps, but not outdoors. A straw floppy hat completed her ensemble, its brim wide enough to shield her pale features from the sun. Dark glasses sat perched on her nose as she stared out at the expanse of blue water. So deep in thought, she didn’t realize there was someone behind her until a pair of arms snaked around her waist. She panicked for just a moment before she remembered where she was and whose arms were wrapped around her.

“Hey pretty lady – what are you doing out here all alone?” Scribbs placed her chin on Ash’s shoulder and looked out over the waters.

“My partner's a lazy cow who decided to sleep in. What else was I to do?” Ash leaned back against her lover and sighed. At first, she’d balked at the plan Scribbs and Sullivan had come up with, but she had to admit, the cruise was just what she’d needed, especially when they’d received word after the first day that Ash was in the clear. She and Scribbs had celebrated the night in style with a sexy, black teddy in the starring role.

Ash smiled. The absolutely best part had been the realization that no one could question why they’d come on the cruise. If anyone asked, she’d just explain she was hiding out from the CIB until Sullivan gave them the all clear.

Scribbs squeezed Ash’s middle, pulling her closer. “You could have stayed in bed, too.” She kissed her lover’s neck. “Or, you could have coaxed me from sleep with an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

Ash snorted. “You were snoring.” She didn’t wait for Scribbs to deny her claims, as she always did. “A stick of dynamite couldn’t have coaxed you from sleep.”

“I don’t snore.” Scribbs’ denial fell on deaf ears as she’d moved her lips to Ash’s weak spot where her shoulder met her neck. Ash shivered in response.

“How about if I made that offer now?” Ash turned in her lover’s arms, placing her hands firmly on Scribbs’ hips. “What do you say we go back to our cabin?”

“What’s in it for me?” Scribbs tilted her head and smiled widely. She knew exactly what she was in for. She couldn’t wait.

“Let me think,” teased Ash, looking toward the sky as if the answer was written on one of the white, fluffy clouds that slowly drifted by. “I could model my swimsuit for you.”

Scribbs hesitated for only a second, before grabbing Ash’s hand and tugging her toward their cabin. This cruise was the best idea she’d ever had. It’d brought out a side of Ash that she’d never seen before.

“Hey, Ash, why don’t you go on ahead? I’ll stop by the bar and get us a drink.”

Ash gave a toothy smile and nodded. “Okay, see you in a few.” Turning, she strolled easily toward their cabin. Scribbs grinned as she watched her partner walk away, feeling less and less guilty about tricking Ash into the holiday.

When she’d accidentally come across Sullivan dancing cheek to cheek with a rather dapper DI from a sister station, she’d had no idea the dividends the information would earn for her. In fact, she truly never intended to call in her marker, but desperate times called for desperate measures. And no one was really hurt by her little deception.

There was no investigation, so Ash was really never in danger of losing her job. Sullivan had played along beautifully, ordering Ash to follow along until he could take care of the matter. They’d even caught a break in the Foxworthy case before they’d left on the cruise.

The victim’s partner had tried to sell the shield to another antiquities dealer in the next town. So, all in all, everything had turned out perfectly - everything except Scribbs’ guilt over putting Ash through the wringer.

Giving her order to the bartender, Scribbs sighed. It had only been for a day, and Ash had calmed down considerably after Scribbs had explained ‘the plan.’ When measured against the benefits of the week they were having, had it all been worth it?

An image of Ash, lying on their bed, wearing the form-fitting black bathing suit, pushed its way past her many questions, and Scribbs grinned smugly as she paid the bartender. Maybe one day she’d come clean and tell Ash what she’d done, but for right now, there was a gorgeous brunette, wearing skimpy water apparel, waiting for her.

Scribbs grabbed up the drinks and hurried to their cabin, her focus solely on Ash. It had definitely been worth it.

IDF Fic - Where Magic Never Happens

Sat, 19 Jul 2008 07:51:36 GMT

Title: Where Magic Never Happens
Fandom/Pairing: Murder in Suburbia, Ash/Scribbs
Disclaimer: Murder in Suburbia and its characters are the property of ITV. No infringement intended.
Summary: Ash, Scribbs and witchcraft don’t mix too well.
Author’s Note: Thanks to my wonderful beta darandkerry.

Ash crinkled her nose. When that, unsurprisingly, proved unsuccessful, she waved her hand in front of her face in the dim hope of getting some fresh air. Soon recognising that this, too, was futile, she let her hand drop back to her side and scrunched up her nose again.

“Is that really necessary?”

“It’s not going to work without it.” With each hand, Scribbs cut through the air with an incense stick, weaving intricate patterns, according to her, but to Ash it looked like wild and random waving.

Suppressing a wince, she reminded herself that, luckily, this wasn’t her bed when, suddenly, a spark from one of the sticks swooshed past her head and landed on the sheet, only to be swatted immediately by Scribbs’ palm. Ash stared at the tiny black hole with the charred edges. “Why are we doing this in your bedroom again?”

Scribbs placed the incense sticks into a holder on her bedside cabinet, resumed her cross-legged position, and pulled a nearby tray with various items onto the bed, placing it down between herself and Ash. “The positive energy, Ash. If I’m going to try to make you fall madly in love with me, I have to do it in a room where my love can embrace you, so you can easily recognise that we’re meant for each other.”

“You mean in case it works – which it won’t – you won’t have to drag me upstairs to your love nest; you can work your magic, no pun intended, right here,” Ash muttered.

“Yes!” Scribbs beamed and picked up something from the tray. “You always tell me pragmatism is important. I think I’m being very pragmatic by sparing you the walk upstairs.”

“This love ritual thing is bollocks.” Ash had only agreed to go through with it because Scribbs had nagged her relentlessly, thinking that if Scribbs realised that witchcraft was useless, she’d eventually stop talking about it. Now, however, Ash felt decidely silly, sitting on Scribbs’ bed, somewhat dizzy from the intense scent of sandalwood surrounding her and wondering how on earth she could have thought this wasn’t a childish idea. Resigned, she pointed at her partner’s hand. “And what’s this for?”

Lifting her hand, Scribbs held the item up for Ash to see. “It’s my cauldron.”

“Looks like a plastic cup to me.”

“That’s because it IS a plastic cup. We’re not in Hogwarts.”

“Right, and excuse me if this is a rather bold question, but what do you need a cauldron for?”

“The love potion, of course.”

“Of course. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t witches always have a fire beneath their cauldrons to boil the ingredients?” If Scribbs was going to do this, Ash was determined to see to it that she did it right.

Squinting at the label of a small brown bottle on her tray, Scribbs said absentmindedly, “Don’t be ridiculous, Ash, we can’t start a fire in my bedroom.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t bring a hotplate up here. Plastic cup, hotplate - everything would blend together so nicely, you wouldn’t be able to tell what it originally was.” Ash was beginning to feel snarky.

Scribbs adopted an eerily Ash-like stern look. “Do not, under any circumstances, mock the ritual or its proceedings. If you think it’s so stupid, why’d you agree to do it?”

“I obviously wasn’t aware of the degree of complete and utter silliness it would involve.” Ash made to get up from the bed. “I think we should end your little experiment here and now.”

“No!” Scribbs caught Ash by the sleeve of her shirt and pulled her back down onto the bed. “You can’t interrupt the ritual. The book says if you don’t follow the rules until the end, doom will descend upon you.” It didn’t really. “I know this will work.” She hadn’t a clue. “I’m absolutely sure.” She wasn’t.

With a mildly annoyed sigh, Ash returned to her previous position, sitting on Scribbs’ bed across from her partner. “Fine. So what’s next?”

Scribbs picked up a bottle. “First, a bit of this stuff, and then –“

“What exactly is ‘this stuff’?”

“How am I supposed to know? The lady at the shop gave it to me.”

“Marvellous. And how much of ‘how-am-I-supposed-to-know’ do you use?”

“Dunno, a few drops, I guess…” Scribbs poured a generous amount of the greenish liquid into the plastic cup and unscrewed the lid of a black container that looked highly suspicious to Ash. “Then, a dash of this” – half the contents found their way into the cup – “and some of this.” A lump of an indefinable mass from a second container dropped from Scribbs’ fingers. “Now, I need to stir it so the…Ash? You’re looking at me funny.”

Indeed, it seemed like the hint of disbelief on Ash’s face might turn into maniacal laughter any minute. “I’m trying to decide whether your appalling lack of precision in doing this should worry me because of all the things that could go wrong, or whether I should be relieved because it’s never going to work like this.”

Scribbs inspected her potion. “It’s a bit clotty because I didn’t heat it, but other than that, it looks pretty good to me.” She held out the cup to Ash. “I think it’s ready for you to drink now.”

Ash nearly went over the edge of the bed when she scurried away from the viscious mixture, distaste evident in her face and posture. “Drink it? Scribbs, are you mad? I’m certainly not drinking this.”

“But it’s a potion. You have to drink it.”

“You never told me that!”

“What did you think I was going to do with it once it was ready?”

“I don’t know, sprinkle it around the room? Although, with this colour and texture, spreading it around your bedroom seems like only a marginally better idea than drinking it.”

Scribbs pushed the plastic cup into Ash’s hand, whose fingers automatically clutched around it. “Drink it. Please?” She looked at Ash with what she hoped were her puppy-dog eyes.

Ash glared back at Scribbs, unmoving for a minute, then two, and then finally threw up her free hand in defeat. “Oh bloody hell, fine, I’ll do it.” Without a second glance, she gulped down the contents of the cup and screwed up her face. “There, satisfied? Now what?”

“We wait.” Scribbs placed the tray on the floor beside the bed.

“For how long?”

“I don’t know. Do you feel something already?”

Ash turned her eyes up to the ceiling in concentration and then back down to Scribbs. She shook her head. “No.”

Scribbs seemed uncertain. “Maybe I did it all wrong.”

Ash’s heart twisted at seeing her partner so disappointed, and she wanted to tell her that it didn’t take a silly potion to make her fall madly in love, but her tongue suddenly felt too heavy to speak, so she settled for smiling idiotically.

Wrinkling her forehead, Scribbs leaned forward a little. “You don’t look so good, Ash.”

The smile was replaced by a look of confusion. Ash swayed, focused on regaining her balance for a moment, and then, slowly, also leaned in, her eyes shiny and bright.

Scribbs was torn between concern about how pale Ash looked and how dilated her pupils appeared and eager anticipation of the kiss that was clearly impending, secretly pleased that the rather sloppily mixed potion had been effective. The decision, however, proved irrelevant when Ash keeled over and landed face-forward in Scribbs’ lap, immediately beginning to snore in such an undignified manner that it would have horrified her had she been aware of it.

Blinking with surprise, Scribbs looked down at Ash and prodded her shoulder, with no result whatsoever. She glanced at the empty cup Ash still held on to and smiled.

“Well, she IS between my legs.”

desperately seeking...

Fri, 18 Jul 2008 16:37:07 GMT

Hello! Does anyone know where i could find [watch /download /buy - whatever available] the Afternoon Play: The Trouble With George, with Lisa Faulkner?
Thanks, Merci!
#

Prompts

Thu, 29 May 2008 19:32:41 GMT

I think a lot about stories and fanvideos, especially in the MiS fandom (also Utena, but I digress). I heard a really cute song the other day, and I thought of Scribbs first. So here is a couple of fic/video prompts, and hopefully I will see some more. Hopefully people haven't slowed down writing and stiff for this fandom.

Vid:
Focus: Scribbs POV letting Ash know how she feels
Song: I'm Yours by Jason Mraz
Reason: there is this part of the song that goes 'Won't you come a little, come a little closer dear, and I'll nibble your ear', and the first thing I thought of was that scene in the bar where Scribbs scooches closer and teases Ash about something, which makes Ash nudge her.

Fic: Ash and Scribbs have to go under cover at a convention. You choose the type, but seeing Ash and Scribbs go as Xena and Gabrielle or some anime character would be funny.

That is all for me. Thanks for reading this. Expect three fics from me come the International Day of Femslash on July 19th. Enjoy the rest fo your week.

Erin

Fic: Absence (ficathon entry for darandkerry)

Sun, 25 May 2008 11:54:48 GMT

Title: Absence
Author: kjaneway
Written for: darandkerry
Prompt: Biscotti
Summary: Ash finds that absence makes the heart grow fonder
Author's note: Unfortunately, this isn't so much twice cooked as half baked. My apologies. My sincere apologies for the tardiness of the piece, also.

"You what?"

"I'm going on holiday."

"But..."

"I need a break."

"You've never..."

"These past few weeks, I don't feel I've been at my best."

"But, we've solved five cases in six weeks. No one else has anything like..."

"I'm tired. I'm sick of the rain. It's supposed to be summer. I... I just need to be somewhere else for a while."

"Oh."

"It's... it's not you."

"Oh god. Please..."

"Really. It's me. I'm... I'm... I can't. I have to go. I'm sorry, Emma."

******

The following week had been strange. They still worked well together, but the odd tension between them spread insidiously through the entire team, until, by Friday afternoon, almost everyone seemed to be at each other's throats. It had been a relief to escape from the station, and Scribbs almost regretted her offer to drive Ash to the airport for her flight early the following morning.

Dawn had found them driving, in silence, through quiet back lanes where mist hung above the green fields, that only hinted at the luminous yellow that would come when they finally bloomed. Though the traffic had increased as they neared the terminus, the space between them had remained. Despite contemplating it a couple of time and even once going as far as allowing her hand to drift in its general direction, Scribbs had found herself, as usual, deferring to her passenger's preference for no music.

******

"So... I'll, er, see you in a fortnight, then."

"Yes. Thanks for the lift."

"Would you like me to..."

"No, no. It's fine. I'll just get a cab."

"Are you sure? It's no..."

"No, it's fine. I know you had to turn down a night on the town, last night, to be up and about for this. I don't want to inconvenience you."

"It's no trouble."

"No."

"Really. It's fine. I wan..."

"I'll get a cab. It'll be all right."

"Well, if you're sure..."

"I'm sure. Goodbye, Emma."

"OK. Goodbye, As... Kate. Have fun!"

"I'll... I... Goodbye."

******

It had been a long fortnight. A long, dull fortnight filled with paperwork. Endless drifts of long neglected paperwork tying up loose ends on a variety of cases. Cases that ranged from the high profile, but strictly natural causes, death of a minor local celebrity in a rather more infamous local "gentlemen's club" to the almost unnoticed murder of an single, white, middle aged man in his own home by an itinerant, opportunistic thief being a little heavy handed with the improvised half brick in a sock cosh.

Scribbs put the finishing touches to the final document she'd been working on and sent it to the printer. Closing down her PC, she looked across at the empty desk opposite and sighed gently, the breathy noise mostly masked by the churning of the printer on the far side of the empty room. While she waited for the endless copies to print she reached for the remains of her coffee, carefully navigating it back passed the stack of tidy folders that perched waiting for the review and sign off on her conspicuously missing colleague.

Being alone and stuck in the station with paperwork had worn her down and she had found herself drinking the strange substance served by the canteen. The scummy brown liquid lurked in the bottom of an ugly, green cup which stood squatly on a matching saucer. It was unpleasant when lukewarm, as it had been about three hours ago when she'd first obtained it. Now it was cold and absolutely vile.

*****

She'd turned down the invitation to the pub, just as she had the previous two weeks. She knew there were mutterings among her colleagues; the most common tended to mention that she was no fun any more, the more spiteful said she was turning into her uptight colleague, and one astute voice had suggested that maybe she was pining. However, she'd done her best to ignore the comments and stuck her head firmly back into her work, eager to finish the last of the outstanding files before the end of the day.

Now, she carefully initialled the final sheets of her report and slipped them into their allotted place in the final case folder. Then, after placing the file in the appropriate place in the stack, she shifted the entire pile the two feet from her own cluttered desk to the spacious, tidy one opposite. Finally, after looking around the empty room with a slightly lost feeling, she sighed once more, threw her coat over one arm and headed toward home.

The short drive to her flat was easy. After all, everyone sane had left work many hours since. The golden light of the late evening lingered in the sky and, for a moment, she had a fleeting thought of driving out to the nearby recreational area, and watching the sun sink into one of the lakes formed by allowing spent quarries to fill with water. However, almost immediately after the thought occurred she was offered the sight of a gang of hooded teens colonising a corner. They were huddled together on bicycles, sharing cigarettes and, from the fleeting glance she received as she passed, bodily fluids. The somewhat sordid sight reminded her that, despite the council's best efforts, the park had become a popular location for minors to congregate, drink and engage in other minor infractions. She decided that overall she was better off going home, opening a bottle of wine, and slumping in front of some mindless TV. Monday would come all too soon.

So wrapped up was she in her thoughts, that she didn't notice the hint of light escaping from her window as she passed the front of the house. Once parked, she made her way indoors mechanically, and it took her a moment before the mingled scents of vanilla candles and freshly brewed coffee registered with her tired and work dulled brain.

With the front door shut, and the sun firmly sunk behind the row of houses opposite the hallway was dim, and she could clearly see the flickering light that leaked through the door to the living room. Curiosity thoroughly piqued, and with more than a little trepidation, she stepped into the room.

*****

Some hours earlier
-------------------

"Si, signora. There is a space."

"On the next flight?"

"Si. It will depart in... one and one half hours."

"Fine. Book me on that."

"Certainly, signora, and you will be paying by..."

*****

The scheduled flight had not just arrived on time, it had been early. Which would have been great, if this hadn't meant that they had missed their allotted slot for baggage handling. So she stood impatiently by the empty carousel, inhaling in the plastic air of the terminal, and wondering if she could make it start if she wished hard enough.

The holiday itself had been less of a success that she had hoped for. The aim had been to clear her head, sort out the feelings. Clarify what was happening, simplify everything, even. And yet, as each day passed all she found was a yearning to point out a vista, share a flavour, comment on a sight... to the person who wasn't there.

Finally, she could stay no longer, for all the beauty of the Tuscan countryside and the lures of the Florentine museums and galleries. Even another night was too much. So, despite the expense, she had flown home early.

With a screech and a smattering of applause, the carousel started its lumbering motion. For a few moments, the gods of airline travel smiled on the brunette. Not only did her bag arrive, undamaged, in the first load, but the unheard of occurred, as she barely had to wait when a taxi drew up at the empty rank as she arrived at it.

She wasn't entirely surprised to find the flat empty. It was a Friday night, after all, meaning her colleagues including the only one she wanted to see, were, most likely, in the Red Lion on the third or fourth round of the night. Still, for all the clutter, there were far worse places to be.

*****

A pair of small cases were stacked neatly in one corner of the room. Scribbs knew for sure that they hadn't been there when she'd headed out to work that morning and the tags on them marked them as having recently been through the pot luck of airline baggage handling. Confused, she stepped further into the room, and was met by the sight of Ash, curled up on her sofa, wrapped in a blanket against the unseasonable chill. On the table beside her, in amongst a drift of junk mail and local papers was a clear space which held the remains of a cup of coffee and a plate. Next to these was a fancifully gift wrapped boxy object.

"Ash?"

The brunette jerked awake, clearly startled, and Scribbs was immediately sorry that she had spoken, until Ash looked up at her from under sleepy eyelashes and smiled.

"Scribbs," she said, simply.

"You're... er... you're not supposed..."

"I got an earlier flight."

"But..."

"I suddenly realised that I'd spend two weeks looking at the countryside and not seeing it, eating and not tasting it. I visited museums and art galleries, and there was something missing. All the time, there was something missing."

Ash had become animated as she spoke, but now she lapsed into awkward silence once more. Scribbs, worried and confused by her friend's behaviour, could only join her on the sofa and hope that she would finally explain the unplanned last minute trip, and the sudden, unexpected early return.

"I, er, brought you something," said Ash, suddenly breaking the silence and thrusting the box at Scribbs rather unceremoniously.

"Ooh," said Scribbs, attempting to fake her usual excited reaction to gifts. Shaking the package slightly, she was rewarded with the dull thud of multiple objects against metal. "You got me a really nice... er... tin box. I know it's not alcohol, 'cos it's not heavy enough... so..."

"Just open it, Scribbs," said Ash, an enigmatic smile back on her face.

Scribbs ripped through the wrapping, like a sugar hyped three year old playing pass-the-parcel and it was all Ash could do, not to wince, just a little. The richly decorated tin she revealed was covered in exuberantly scripted Italian and Scribbs was left none the wiser as to the contents.

"They're biscotti," said Ash, as Scribbs extracted one of the wax paper wrapped objects from the tin. "Speciality of the region. The chap in the shop, after he'd stopped flirting, said these were the best ones."

"Why did he stop flirting?"

"It might have been the point where I said I was buying them as a gift... and an apology of kinds... for my, er, girlfriend."

Scribbs looked up from the confection, startled.

"You said..."

"Yes."

"Oh."

"It was you I was missing. Everything I did, everything I saw, everything I tasted and touched and smelled and heard... all of it I would turn to share it with you and you... weren't there.

"And it was my fault. I'm so sorry, Emma."

Ash hung her head, allowing dark hair to fall forward over her slightly tanned skin. At this moment, she couldn't bear to face the blonde's expression. Thus, she had no warning as she was drawn into a warm and comforting hug.

"Ash. Kate. I'm sorry, too."

There was more to be said, however, comfortably enfolded in each other's arms they allowed the silence to stretch around them.

Until it was broken by the rustle of paper and a crunching noise.

"Oh wow," said Scribbs, "these are really good!"

2008 Ash/Scribbs Ficathon Masterlist

Mon, 19 May 2008 22:04:04 GMT

Here are all the stories posted in the second annual ashscribbs ficathon. A big thank-you to all of the authors for the effort that went into producing these for us all to enjoy.

Remember, feedback is always appreciated :)

All Assignments posted: story count = 12

Stories are listed alphabetically by author.

ash_rules wrote Tipsy & Turvy for the_girl_20

atfm wrote Oh Snap! for ralst

badgersprite wrote Great British Menu for atfm

darandkerry wrote Operation Sabotage for zennie

giantessmess wrote Rules not to follow for spazticscrat164

kjaneway wrote Absence for darandkerry

ralst wrote Gone but not forgotten for kjaneway

spazticscrat164 wrote Why Bats Are Scribbs' New Favorite for ash_rules

the_girl_20 wrote When God gave out gaydar and Whodunit? for wonkots42

wonkots42 wrote Nerdy for giantessmess

zennie wrote Lingering for badgersprite

Ficathon entry for: spazticscrat164

Mon, 19 May 2008 02:12:21 GMT

Title: Rules not to follow
Author: giantessmess
Written for: spazticscrat164
Prompt: Trouble is afoot in a local nudist colony - Ash and Scribbs are sent in undercover to find out the naked truth about the murders.
Summary: The prompt says it all.
Warnings: Nudity.
Had some problems with this one, but I hope it turned out enjoyable.

The restaurant was a problem. There were no appropriate places to settle one’s eyes, and the mirror on the far wall just made matters worse. Ash swallowed and stared involuntarily at the people around her. At the mirrored versions of them. At her partner. She looked downwards and decided to button her jacket more tightly. Then she undid the buttons and redid them. Twice.

“Ash, they’re starting to suspect something – I mean you’re not even following the rules.”

“I wish you wouldn’t follow them so religiously.”

“It’s an assignment! It’s not like I’d voluntarily go swanning about with all my bits on show, is it?”

Ash read the menu harder, “The food here’s bloody terrible – look at this.”

“God, you’re making me nervous.”

“I said no from the start,” Ash said evenly.

“Well, not right away, you got this glazed look.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yeah you did, all fuzzy and pink round the edges.”

Ash closed her eyes, feeling a cluster headache coming on.

“This is hardly an appropriate way to investigate a murder. I told you no, I told Sullivan no. Then you go off and volunteer us anyway!”

Scribbs may have been shrugging, but Ash wasn’t looking.

“Who are these people?”

“They’re just nudists, Ash.”

“Oh honestly, I know that. I was going for a slightly deeper analysis into their unseemly characters.”

“For the investigation, or just because you’re a prude?”

“The investigation. Clearly.”

“They’re just a bit more laid back, is all.”

“Laid back? I’d settle for ‘deranged’ as an explanation.”

“S’not that bad,” Scribbs blanched. “It’s actually quite a relief. Soothing.”

Ash looked anywhere but her partner’s curves, and made to examine the doorway leading into the kitchen.

“This place has got to be in violation of several food safety rules. I wonder if they’re actually playing nudist next to the deep fryer.”

“Ash.”

“Maybe the cook should be the suspect….”

“I don’t think the cook’s got anything to do with it,” Scribbs made to stand up. Ash closed her eyes to prevent herself from staring too intensely.

“Scribbs, focus.”

“Focus? On what.”

“Just, don’t stand up. Can you do that?”

Ash fanned herself with her menu, careful to tighten her jacket once more. The waitress came to check up on them.

“Breakfast’s almost over. You sure you’re alright, Ma’am?”

“She’s fine,” Scribbs said quickly, patting Ash on the shoulder. Ash blushed away.

“She’s just a bit queasy. Gets vertigo sometimes, right sweetums?”

Ash forced herself to nod. The waitress eyed them a little sourly and cleared her throat.

“Tell me when you’re ready to order.”

Scribbs sighed once she’d gone.

“You don’t follow the rules here, Ash.”

“They’re nonsensical!”

“We’re going to get found out. Blow the case.”

“So much the better.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I’m not playing along, Scribbs. Sullivan’s clearly playing some kind of cold war, sending us here. I’ll not be a part of it.”

“Suit yourself,” Scribbs said, gesturing for the waitress to come over. “Yeah, I’ll just have the scrambled eggs. She’s not hungry.”

They usually got on fairly well on undercover operations. So long as Scribbs didn’t push the boundaries too much and force Ash to play along with ridiculous twists in their cover story. Scribbs delighted in coming up with them. Like having vertigo. Like being a couple. Goodness knows what else.

They hadn’t been in the nudist colony long, but to Ash it felt like an ice age. Some poor soul had been found butchered in one of the ensuites a week ago. Man in his forties, no kids. No wife. Ash has been too preoccupied with Scribbs’s embrace of the compound’s nudity rules to give the investigation much thought. They’d been there two days and she, unprofessionally, hadn’t even begun to ask questions. Hadn’t even looked at the scene of the crime. They were supposed to be a couple this time, on honeymoon – her and Scribbs. Also a little distracting.

“I think we need to have some ground rules for our room.” Ash started, when they returned from breakfast.

“Yeah?”

“One, no nudity.”

“Not even in the shower?”

“Two, no nudity.”

“I don’t think it’s healthy to shower in swimmers.”

“Three-”

“No nudity?”

“No,” Ash said. “Two mentions should suffice. Three will refer to our intense concentration on all matters pertaining to the case, starting with outlining suspects.”

“You’re a laugh a minute.”

“The more diligent we are, the sooner we can get out of here.”

“You really must hate being undercover with me.”

Ash sighed. “It’s nothing personal.”

“It’s not that bad here!”

“Nudist colony, Scribbs.”

“They’re not lepers.”

“I just prefer to keep my clothes on for day to day things.”

“And the not-so day to day things?”

Ash became aware once more of Scribb’s state of undress. She tried very hard not to look at her, and failed. Scribbs smiled wryly.

“I have some rules too.”

Ash swallowed and looked up, feeling faint.

“Such as?”

“You need to play along.”

“I already said-”

“They have the rule here for a reason.” Scribbs reached for the sleave of Ash’s jacked. Ash found herself complying, leaning into her. “You don’t have to go naked hang-gliding, alright?” She slipped the jacked off and began on Ash’s shirt. “You just have to be a little less uptight.” She paused on Ash’s trousers, as if waiting for confirmation that this was ok. Ash just stared at her dumbly, and Scribbs began unbuttoning. Ash was breathing heavily when she reached her pants, her bra.

“You ok, Ash?”

Ash was having trouble forming a sentence in reply. Scribbs slipped them down and Ash just stood there, breathing an issue, heartbeat erratic. All she could manage was a small noise, before Scribbs kissed her. She pulled away briefly and mumbled.

“If I must play along, I must.”

“It’s pretty dire.”

“For the sake of the case.”

Scribbs grinned. “Yeah...about that...”

Ash narrowed her eyes. She couldn’t manage to get anger into her tone of voice.

"There is a case here, isn't there Scribbs?"

“Look, I thought you could use a holiday.”

“In a nudist colony!”

“It is relaxing though, isn’t it?”

Ash stared at her, at the room. At her clothes on the ground.

“There’s really no case?”

Scribbs pulled Ash closer. “Naked hang-gliding tomorrow, then?”