AN: Kinda inspired by the Signal, just for all of the cell phone use. Can you hear me now?
The call came at about two in the morning. Alan moaned, untangling an arm from the scratchy hotel sheets and reaching for the nightstand. In his delirium, he overshot the grab and knocked the hotel phone to the ground. He could faintly hear the dial tone from the floor beside him. Stupid thing.
His hand finally clasped onto the familiar black plastic of his cell phone. Squinting at the backlit keypad in the dark, he answered the call and brought the phone up to his face without looking at the ID.
"Hello?" he asked groggily, mashing a hand into his left cheek.
"Alan?"
"Alice?" he responded. Her tone caused Alan's already quite creative mind to go into overdrive. She sounded scared, cornered, nervous; he immediately thought of any number of terrifying scenarios to accompany her voice. "Alice, honey, what's wrong?"
"The light, the hallway light is out. Outside the bedroom it's...God Alan it's so dark."
"Is the door open?"
"No, I shut it."
"Good, don't let it in."
Alan glanced at the digital clock blinking in the darkness. 2:07am.
"You put the lights on in the bedroom?"
"Y-yes. I have them on. But what if they go out Alan? What if the circuitry is failing and—"
"No, no, Alice listen to me," Alan shushed her, "It's just one bulb, ok? It's real early, but later when the sun comes up, you can call Dave from maintenance and have him help you replace it."
"Ok," Alice repeated. "Ok."
"Do you have a flashlight? Our candles?"
"Yeah I have them out, in case," Alice whispered, her breathing less panicked than before.
"Do you have the Clicker?"
"Alan—"
"Come on honey, if I have to be away, I want to make sure you have the best defense against the dark," Alan proclaimed, joking only slightly.
"Alright," Alice sighed, the sounds of her rummaging through the nightstand crackling through the speaker. "I got it now."
"Good. I want you to hold onto it, just in case. If you feel something there, even for a second, you just have to close your eyes, picture it going away, and click it. Can you do that baby?" Alan asked soothingly. It sounded childish, but to him the Clicker really was an artifact of some great magical power. He just hoped it would work for Alice too.
"Thank you Alan," Alice breathed. "I—this is all so silly, I'm sorry for calling you—"
"This isn't silly. Don't you ever believe that what you think is 'silly' to me, Alice," Alan asserted. "If it's real to you then it's real. Just like how the Clicker is real, if you believe it to be."
"Thank you Alan," Alice said, her words so twisted by relief and love they were near a sob. "I love you so much baby."
"I love you too," Alice replied with a smile. "Are you in bed? If not, lay down, I'm going to tell you a story…"
Alan waited for his wife to relax before beginning a tale to ease her back to sleep. It was a story about a bard who fell in love with a painter. The bard was determined to write a song to charm her, but he could never find the perfect words. Meanwhile the painter kept sending him small canvases with renditions of his likeness, which left him even more desperate to compose a masterpiece. When he finally explained his troubles to the painter, she had laughed. She had sent the portraits to woo him herself, as she knew no other way to do so.
Alice's breathing had become steady throughout, and her quiet laughs and hums had grown less and less as he approached the happily ever after.
"Alice?" he whispered, having ended his story. "You still there?"
The only response was soft puffs of air crackling through the connection.
"Goodnight Alice, I love you," he whispered before ending the call.
Thank God for unlimited minutes.
