DISCLAIMER: Murder in Suburbia and its characters are the property of ITV. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have nothing to say about this story but 'I'm sorry.' Had I more time, this would have more Britishisms in it.
WARNING: There is character death in this story, which probably just spoiled the story, but I have to put that out there.
CHALLENGE: Written for the first International Day of Femslash.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
By Erin Griffin
Birch Grove: 2050
My hand shook, a constant trembling around the handles to my chair as I inched it closer to the bed. No way could I stalk a murderer in this noisey thing. Her skin was paler, but it stretched with her grin, the grin I'd grown too used to. There she lie at the right side of the bed as I simply stared at her. "Yer no fun," she grumbled.. I watched her closely as she moved back to the left side of the bed.
"Why do you still-"
"Because I bloody can, Kate. If I'm gonna be put on permanent bedrest because I hurt all the time, I'm going to rest on the entire bed if I can move there."
"For Christ sak..." I murmured, but I said nothing more as I shook my head. I felt badly, but it was the same thing every night, a ritual since we moved to the one place we laughed at over the years. We had a flat together before that, though I can't remember now the details of how we had become flatmates. Something about a flood, and her staying at my place for a while and never leaving, not that I minded ever. She may have set her life goal to breaking as many of my rules as possible, but I knew I would have missed her as soon as she left. I stood up, holding on tightly to the bedside table as I shifted from the wheelchair to the bed.
"Honestly Kate, Carolyn-"
"Kate!" Emma said a little louder than she probably needed to in order to stop anything mean I may have definately said.
"For the last time, I am not letting her near me. I'm fine on my own," I said. Carolyn was a nice enough woman, and I didn't dislike her, but summoning her just reminded me that I haven't been young in a long time, and that I finally have to face the fact that I couldn't be the strong willed independant woman I once was. It didn't hurt that Carolyn had been Baby Spice X in The New Spice Generation, an obvious money making scheme that came about when the reunion tour for the original Spice girls became a huge hit in 2007. The New Spice Generation came about in 2012, five years later with their surprisingly catchy hit 'Wreck Your Flat'. Luckily for the world, the record company got into troubles regarding the members of the original Spice Girls and the New Spice Generation was forced to discontinue.
The clock beeped twice, and I barely heard the gears whirring before I took off my hearing aid. I turned to the clock, which opened up and dispenced two blue pills, one tiny yellow pill, a red pill and two long green pills. I gave Emma the green and yellow pills and set the rest on the bedside table. I filled two cups of water and held one to Emma, who popped all three pills in her mouth at once before she took the water. "Thank you."
"Sure," I said, right before leaning my head back and swallowing my own pills. Blood thinners how I hate thee. I shifted to get comfortable under the comforter. It was going to be a cold night if my knee pains said anything. I helped Emma get the comforter over her stiff arm. Slowly though, she turned on her side to look at me, her arm laying underneath her. I knew that would have caused her pain, but she still just looked at me. I waited for her to say something to me or complain about how the pills tasted like rubbish, another ritual right before the lights would go out. She didn't. She just seemed content to look at me, so I did the same, staring back at her.
Emma's hair had greyed and whitened over the years and wrinkles and laughlines etched both of our faces, but Emma's eyes always shone with the same mischievious light, even after we came here (though I suspect that has something to do with the irony that they gave us the so called Honeymoon suite again than anything else). She may have grumped and complained just as I often did, but most of the time when pain wasn't too bad, that mischief was there, often when she told me stories of our past together from her point of view. Sometimes, I would just let her, but you see, Emma had the tendancy to stretch the truth and make me sound more uptight than I really was and I would have to- er correct her, in which case that smile would widen. I noticed as we stared at eachother then that the light was dim, and I knew something was wrong. She lay on the stiff arm long enough to reach for me as if she felt it too. My hand seemed to tremble more as I took the frail hand offered to me, feeling the protruding veins under my thumb.
No, this couldn't be. I was older. I was to be the first to go. It was the natural order of things, right? Age before beauty, Emma would always joke. It came to me then that I had to say what I should've said years ago, for it litterally now or never. 'Come on, Ash' I thought to myself, 'this is what you should have told her when you were partners in Middleford CID, or when she was by your side relentlessly when you were diagnosed with the breast cancer, or when the arthritis pain began, or- bugger all, last night, this morinng...' "Emma I-"
The hand in mine gripped me tighter, though I almost didn't feel anything. I just saw her fingers move. "I know, Kate." As her eyes closed and her last breath left her, I felt her grip go completely. Only then did my tears come.
Of course she knew. She was my Scribbs after all, a fine Detective Seregant and an even better Detective Inspector. She led on that she wasn't as keen as she really was, and often solved the mysteries before I did. If Emma hadn't known how I felt for all those forty five years or more, I doubt she would have stuck around as long as she had. Or maybe she would have. The thing is, she did know. She'd known all along. My Scribbs, my dear Scribbs. I have always loved you.
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