DISCLAIMER: Murder in Suburbia and its characters are the property of ITV. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I recently caught When Harry Met Sallyon television and immediately thought of Scribbs. Special thanks to the amazing Debbie for burning the midnight oil to beta this one.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
FEEDBACK: To darandkerry[at]yahoo.com
Auld Lang Syne
By Ann
Emma Scribbins pushed the play button on an old-style recorder sitting on the edge of her desk. Cocking her head slightly to the side, she squinted across at a stark white wall and listened intently to the words that had begun to play. Her partner, Kate Ashurst, let out a soft, painful groan and closed her eyes, just able to refrain from repeatedly pounding her head into the center of her desk. She counted silently to herself until the tape finally, and thankfully, came to its end.
"I don't get it, Ash," Scribbs said in a puzzled tone as she pushed the rewind button to replay the cassette tape. She sat back and waited patiently for the loud click that would signal that the tape had properly rewound so that she could listen to it once again.
"You don't get what, Scribbs? How the tape player works?" Ash asked sharply, opening her eyes to glare across at her partner. She'd had enough and had grown tired of watching Scribbs's obsession with the player and the song it kept playing, over and over again. "It's actually very simple; one button plays the tape and one rewinds it back to the beginning," she said facetiously, knowing full well that the tape player was not the source of Scribbs's dilemma.
"No, Ash, the song; I don't get the song," Scribbs clarified unnecessarily as the player suddenly clicked loudly. Ash visibly cringed at the sound.
"Please tell me you're not going to play that again," Ash begged pitifully, a very non-Ash type of office response. She rarely begged and only then whenever she and Scribbs were in the privacy of Ash's bedroom and Scribbs had taken to teasing her mercilessly.
Scribbs ignored her partner and pushed the play button, her full concentration once again focused on the song's refrain. She looked across her desk at Ash when the refrain began to repeat. "Seriously, does it mean we should forget old acquaintances, or if we happen to forget them, that we should remember them, which is not possible because we've already forgotten them?" Scribbs spoke her circular conundrum aloud as the music continued to play in the background.
"What?" Ash sat up in her chair and frowned; she genuinely felt dizzy contemplating Scribbs's question. As silly and inane as it was, Ash had actually heard it before. She just couldn't remember where or when. "What does it matter, Scribbs? It's just a song."
"Of Scottish origin," Scribbs pointed out, her astute observation of the song's history totally uncharacteristic of her. It was usually Ash who pinpointed the history and background of various topics of conversation. Scribbs usually stuck to what she did best: read people.
Ash just nodded and worked to keep the surprise out of her expression. She was truly impressed with her partner at the moment. "Yes, from a poem by Robert Burns." Ash felt a warmth spread within her as fond memories of her studies at posh girls' high reminded her of how much she had enjoyed her poetry classes. She sighed blissfully. Suddenly, it wasn't just a song any longer.
Scribbs glanced around the room and was pleased to find the two of them alone. She hadn't realized that her colleagues had sneaked away, one by one, each time she played Auld Lang Syne on her recorder. "Can you recite it?" she asked with a gentle smile. She really cherished times like this whenever Ash let down her guard and showed her true self, something she usually reserved for the times they spent together after work hours.
Ash followed Scribbs's lead and looked around the room. Even though they were alone now, she wasn't sure it would remain that way for long. "I don't think this is the time or place, Scribbs. Perhaps later this evening," she said, indecision and uncertainty replacing her short-lived joy.
"Oh, c'mon, Ash," Scribbs pleaded as she pushed to her feet and crossed over to where Ash was sitting. She perched on the edge of her partner's desk, careful to keep a respectable distance. "I imagine they'll stay away for a while." She grinned. "I think my song may have driven them crazy."
Ash couldn't agree more. It had certainly been on the verge of driving her mad. "Still, Scribbs, someone may come back."
Scribbs ignored Ash's apprehension and leaned closer, daring to take her partner's hand. "Please, Kate? For me?" she whispered softly, sweetly, waiting expectantly for her lover to comply.
Ash stared into dark, hopeful eyes and licked her dry lips. Clearing her throat, she began to recite, from memory, a poem that was once a favorite of hers.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp,
And surely I'll be mine!
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
We twa hae run about the braes,
And pu'd the gowans fine;
But we've wandered mony a weary fit
Sin' auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
We twa hae paidled i' the burn,
Frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
And there's a hand, my trusty fiere,
And gie's a hand o' thine!
And we'll tak a right guid-willie waught
For auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
"That was beautiful, Kate," Scribbs said softly. She desperately wanted to kiss her lover but knew that would be too risky. She opted for running her thumb back and forth across the back of Ash's hand.
"Yes, well," Ash replied, clearly embarrassed by Scribbs's praise. She ducked her head. "I think I may have the answer your question now, though."
"Oh, what question is that?" Scribbs asked, her earlier confusion replaced by a feeling of awe at how eloquently Ash had spoken the poem.
Ash's head snapped up. "The meaning of the song, Scribbs." She watched her partner's expression brighten as understanding dawned.
"Oh yeah," Scribbs said. "So, what does it mean?"
"Auld Lang Syne literally translates from old Scottish dialect meaning Old Long Ago and is about love and friendship in times past," Ash explained, using the same words her English professor, Mrs. McDermott, had used when Ash had first heard the poem all those years ago. "It's kind of like you said, Scribbs," she continued. "We should take a moment every now and then to remember the good times and the people associated with them."
"I'd like to remember this moment forever," Scribbs admitted softly. She turned Ash's hand over and studied her palm before slowly interlacing their fingers together. Ash looked down at their joined hands; the fit was perfect.
"I think perhaps we should knock off early today. We can head on over to that pub you wanted to try and still make our dinner reservations," Ash suggested, wanting nothing more than to head directly home and spend New Year's Eve alone with her lover.
Scribbs tightened her grip on Ash's hand. "You know what, Kate? I think I'd like to stop by an off-licence and get some wine, pick up some take away, and go to your place instead."
Ash looked up and smiled brightly. She gently squeezed Scribbs's hand. "I'd like that, too, Emma."
With a huge grin, Scribbs pulled Ash to her feet and reached across her desk for her purse. She waited for Ash to do the same and then she tugged her partner toward the exit. The two women leaned into each other and chuckled softly as they left the building.
From behind the door that led to his detectives' desks, Sullivan stepped out into view and smiled as he watched Ash loop her arm through Scribbs's and usher her partner out into the late afternoon sun. Perhaps it was finally time for him to look up an old friend.
With a spring in his step, he began to whistle a familiar tune.
The End