The Twilight Twenty-Five
thetwilight25[dot]com

Prompt: Classroom
Pen Name: Kimmydonn
Pairing/Main Character(s): Berty/Goff
Rating: 18A

This is a multi-chapter story

Photo prompts can be viewed here:
thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts


Tony looked up from the essay he was reading as a ringing filled his empty classroom. He frowned, wondering where it was coming from. He looked over each table, half expecting to find a phone on or under one. When that proved fruitless, he rose from his desk, making his way to the door of the room. The ringing seemed to come from there.

To the right of the door hung a beige phone. It blended perfectly into the neutral wall behind it. He'd never noticed the phone before. Had it always been there? He'd never used it. No calls came to the classroom, only occasional knocks from one or another on the staff. Even those interruptions were rare. Why would they put a phone in the classroom?

"Hello?"

"Tony? Is that you?"

He smiled at the familiar voice. "Bernice. How are you? Still under the weather?" He'd missed seeing her in the mornings or at lunch the last couple of days. He'd hoped to make plans to meet one night this week. He was still trying to scrounge up a letterman jacket, but he had hopes to coax her into meeting him on school grounds.

He heard her sigh over the line and his smile drooped. She didn't sound well. "I'm not sick, Tony. I'm in San Diego."

His brow wrinkled in confusion. "San Diego? What's going on, Bernice?"

He heard a snuffling and then a gasp. He felt a growl growing in his chest. Something was wrong. Since they'd been peeped on by Banner, Tony had felt extra protective of Bernice. She didn't deserve the reputation Bob tried to pin on her. To hear him tell, she was a bitch-slut who slept with anyone and then kicked them to the curb. He was happy to prove the exception on both counts. They were exclusive, for the time being, and Bernice had never been anything but a gem outside their encounters. Sadly, announcing such to the faculty would not improve Bernice's reputation. Tony and Bernice both ignored Bob's mud slinging. The result was that most of the others ignored him as well. Bob continued to be an ass and Tony saw the results on Bernice's face every time she heard them.

He wanted to protect Bernice but had no idea what he was protecting her from. He couldn't begin to help her if he didn't know what she needed.

"I'm being...held for questioning. There's something I've never told you before." The line was quiet and Tony fought impatience. What was going on?

"When I taught in San Diego I...I had a relationship with a student."

Tony gasped. That was why she was always so careful when he brought up students, that was why she almost never played the teacher in their games. In fact, she'd been reluctant to play in the school. It had been his fantasy, his idea. He remembered her sitting at that desk near the front, just a week ago, pretending to be one of his students. He felt like an ass. How hard must that have been for her? He wouldn't suggest it again.

"Tony?" she asked, sounding shaken.

"Yes, Bernice. I'm here. Is that why you're in San Diego? Have they been looking for you since?"

There was a nervous chuckle and choked sob together. Tony tightened his jaw, fighting emotions of his own. He really cared about Bernice. Even if they weren't friends in the traditional sense, he loved having her in his life and would hate it if she didn't come back.

"No. He...he went missing and was found dead. They think he was coming looking for me."

Tony pulled the chair from one of the desks over so he could sit down. "You're a murder suspect?"

"Sort of. I have an alibi, the hotel we stayed at last weekend. Apparently he died on Saturday." She didn't have to say more. He knew exactly what she had been doing. "My lawyer expects I'll only have to be here a few more days. If no new evidence turns up, though, it might be longer. I'm still their only lead."

Tony took off his glasses and rubbed his face. "What can I do?" he asked.

"I...I wondered if you'd like to spend a weekend with me, here in San Diego. I could really use a friend right now, Tony."

He took a deep breath, aching with the sound of her voice.

"You know how close it is to finals," he reminded her, "and I have a pile of marking. After last weekend, I can't really take another-"

"I understand, Tony," she said, cutting him off. "Don't worry about it, really. I...I have family here. I'll be fine. I'll call you again when I know more."

"Yes. Please do. Why did you call me here? You have my home number."

She sniffed and he wondered if she were crying. "I just needed to hear you. To remember what I'd left, what I need to get back to. I needed to remember my life there so I'm not lost in what happens here. I needed it very badly today."

The next sound had to have been Bernice blowing her nose.

"Bernice, I can maybe come next weekend. No, wait, that's the prom and I'm chaperone."

"Don't worry about it, Tony. Really. It was too much to ask."

He wanted to deny it. Wanted to tell her that she could ask anything from him. But that wasn't the way they were. They didn't have that kind of relationship. So instead he said, "It's okay. I'm really glad you called."

He could almost hear her smile when she said goodbye. His small sentiment must have been enough.

He sat in the empty room, looking at the board, his desk, the pile of essays. Tomorrow the teens would pile in, filling these seats and demand more of him than a jaunt to San Diego. Why had he said no? It wasn't because these students meant more to him than Bernice. It wasn't that he couldn't push through some late nights to make up the time.

If she hadn't called here, if he had been at home marking, he probably would have said yes. This room added its own weight, its own responsibilities, its own demands. Here he had to be Mr. Berty. Here he answered to the students, the faculty. If he'd been at home, he might have left immediately, though probably not.

Perhaps he would make it down this weekend. With plans to double his efforts, he returned to his desk. Moments into the first essay, however, the weight of the room and the droning tone of the work made him lethargic. He wouldn't get this done sooner than Friday. By then there'd be another stack.

Take care of yourself, Bernice, he thought.