Will kept his word and somehow managed to finish the plans for the west wing by the end of the workday. Mac had tentatively stuck his head into the trailer at five o'clock and Will simply handed the blueprints to him without a word. Mac didn't ask any questions and as soon as he left Will packed up his brief case and locked up the trailer for the night.
His truck somehow managed to take him home—He realized this as he pulled into a parking space in front of his apartment because he couldn't remember a single moment of the drive. It suddenly struck him that this feeling was becoming typical. How many times had he driven from one place to another and not have even remembered pausing at a stop light? For that matter, what had he even been thinking of during the drive? He didn't know for sure. Will climbed wearily out of his truck and lumbered up the stairs to his flat. All I want to do is go to bed, he thought to himself. His head pounded as he fumbled with the keys to his apartment. As the door swung open he heard the buzz of his answering machine as it picked up a call he had just missed.
"Jonah," It was a woman's voice, laughing nervously. "This is Samantha—you know from upstairs? Well, I was wondering if you wanted to come to this party I'm having Saturday night. I just sold my first painting and I plan on celebrating! I would really love for you to come." She laughed again in the same nervous way. "Anyway, give me a call as soon as you can and let me know if you can make it. – Okay, bye!"
Will groaned. It wasn't that he didn't like Samantha. She was smart. And attractive. Only, he just didn't want to think about her right now. He didn't want to think of any woman or anything. He just wanted to veg-out with a microwave dinner in front of the television for a while and then go to bed. His answering machine was flashing that he had one more message, though, and he absently pushed the replay button as he shuffled into the kitchen to get a beer. The first one was only a repeat of Samantha's party invitation and so he ignored it as it played, instead pulling out a beer from the fridge and then randomly picking out a TV dinner from the freezer. After a beep from the machine the next message began to play as he stuck his mystery dinner into the microwave.
"Mr. Tippin."
Will froze with his hand on the microwave pad.
There was a pause and then the British voice continued. "Mr. Tippin, I believe you know who this is."
The sound of that arrogant British voice made his heart catch in his throat.
"There is little time and since I am speaking to your machine instead of you I will bypass the small talk. There is something that I need your assistance with. More pointedly, I have a mission for you." There was a scream in the background. "That was Sydney's voice you just heard. She is a strong woman, a good agent, but some things even she cannot handle." Beer sloshed onto the counter and poured to the floor as Will carelessly cast the bottle aside and ran to the machine. "Which is why I need you to call me as soon as you receive this message." There was a tearful whimpering in the background that he couldn't mistake as coming from anyone other than Sydney.
"Good bye, Mr. Tippin."
The answering machine beeped and then went silent.
