Disclaimer: I don't own RB, sadly.

Rated T because ... I don't know why.

A/N: This came to me an hour ago, and I couldn't stop. I'm extremely tired now, though, lol.

Tag to episode 8, 'Honor Role', even though I already wrote one's that contradict this one, ;).

Please let me know if there are any mistakes; I proofread, but like I said, I'm exhausted and it's late where I am.

Hope you enjoy!

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He's almost asleep when he hears his ringtone begin to play.

Groaning, he brings his pillow up to cover his face, perfectly intent on ignoring it. The sound persists, however, and he groans once more before pushing his pillow away and reaching for the vibrating phone on his bedside table. He pulls it towards him, cursing loudly when the charge cable restricts it and it gets caught. Ridding the phone of the cable none too gently, he flips it open, answering agitatedly, "Yeah, Swarek here."

"Do you always answer your phone that way?" the voice on the other end asks, with a slightly amused twinge to it.

It's a voice he recognizes well, even distorted through a phone.

"Maybe," he responds, a little petulantly. "Why are you calling? Aren't you at Callaghan's fishing cabin, or something?" It's a little blunt, perhaps … and a bit rude, too … but it's nearly midnight, and he's tired, and he already feels bad enough after everything today.

He hears a low sigh through the phone, before Andy continues. "Couldn't sleep," she responds simply. An awkward silence takes over. "You know what, I'm sorry," she tells him seriously after a few moments, the silence shattering with her words. "I shouldn't have called; I'm sorry if I woke you up. I'll just … go."

"Wait!" he calls, breathing out gently when he doesn't hear the tell-tale click of the call disconnecting. "It's okay, really. I wasn't asleep." Not quite yet, anyways. What is it about her that leaves him so incapable of remaining irritated? "There must be a reason you called, though, so … no point not dealing with whatever it is you need now that you've got me."

There's nothing but dead air for a moment, and he wonders if maybe he just missed the sound of her hanging up before. But then her voice comes out of nowhere. "It was what it was," she says clearly, and he's desperately trying to think of a response for that when she continues a moment later, "What does that even mean?"

"It means … I don't even know what it means," he tells her, sighing. That's not exactly true, though. It means a lot of things, some that he's aware of. He just doesn't know if they're things he should share with her. He debates with himself for a moment, before deciding, what the hell. "It means that you're with Luke, not me. And I'm willing to 'disregard' the other night if that's what you want. It means that what happened … happened; but we can pretend that it didn't."

A beat of silence, before, "Is that what you want?" Her voice is small – meek – and painfully curious.

"No," he sighs, because that's absolutely not what he wants. He definitely does not want to pretend that nothing happened. He wants her to dump Luke, actually; and he wants her to be beside him right now, in his bed. But he can't really say any of these things to her, now can he? So he settles for just repeating himself, and says, "No."

He can practically hear her nodding through the phone, and he smiles a little at the thought. "Yeah, me either," she tells him quietly once she realizes that he can't see her. Her next words are hesitant, and a little resigned. "But, I think that … maybe, it's what we should do."

The words pierce through him, even though they're spoken gently. He doesn't know why they hurt so much; especially when he knows that she's right. "Yeah," he replies, eventually, as much as it kills him to do so.

Another beat of silence. "So … disregard, then?" she asks him uncertainly, her voice breathy and quiet.

"Sure," he replies, despite the voice in the back of his head screaming, 'No! No, no, NO!' For her, he thinks to himself, trying to justify the pain he's putting himself through. Only for her.

"Okay," she says, awkwardly. "Well, uh … goodnight, then. Sorry for calling so late," she apologizes again.

"It's okay," he tells her (again), "It's a conversation that needed to be had." And it did need to be had, no matter how much he doesn't like the outcome of it. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she repeats, before he hears a click.

He inhales deeply, gently rubbing his hand across his face. Disregard, then, huh? He can do that, he supposes … maybe.

He sighs.

He'll do it, for her … even if it kills him.

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