Day 49: In Which She Goes MIA

Jack really tried not to overreact, but the longer his phone went without the ping of a new message, the hardest his heart tried to jump out of his ribcage. He was barely aware of his surroundings, the only thing that mattered at the moment being that stupid little device on the table. He tapped his finger against the wood to count the time and went as far as thirty-nine seconds before he was picking his phone again.

"Hello, Elsa," he said as his call went to voicemail. "It's me, your favorite neighbor again. I know I may have sounded a bit paranoid in the last three messages I left, and I apologize. But I'm really trying not to freak out right now, so if you could pick up your phone, or your walkie-talkie, or even scream through the wall, that would be great. If I don't hear from you in the next ten minutes, self-isolation or not, I'm gonna bring your fucking door down, so, you know, you've been warned."

He ended the message, and with a sigh, put the phone back on the table. The finger-tapping restarted, and after the number seventeen, he opted for the walkie-talkie this time.

Rubbing his eyes, he grunted on the radio, "Hi, Elsa. Me again." A pause. "I know I said I'd give you ten minutes, but this is your last chance." He paused again, wishful thinking thinning as he waited for a reply. "Show me any sign that you're still alive, or I'm bursting into your apartment in ten…"

"Nine…"

"Eight…"

He almost fell off his chair as the radio screeched with a response.

"Hey! I'm here! I'm alive!" Elsa frantically replied.

Drained like he had just lost three years of his life, Jack let a tired laugh leave his throat. He opened and closed his fists to give his rushing blood somewhere to go as he tried to cool down.

When he no longer felt like he was about to self-combust, he video-called her, and as soon as her face appeared on the screen, he yelled, "WHAT THE FUCK, WOMAN? I CALLED YOU THREE HUNDRED TIMES!"

Elsa recoiled. "Sorry! I slept in!"

He jerked his head back with a frown. "... You never sleep in."

"I was feeling a bit indisposed."

And just like that, paranoia came back to pat him on the shoulder and giggle in his ear. "What's wrong?"

Elsa started smoothing her tousled hair with her fingers, and he noticed that she was still wearing pajamas. Maybe she had just woken up like she claimed, and not been secretly dying like a part of his brain was trying to make him believe.

"Nothing is wrong, Jack. I'm sorry I worried you—"

"Elsa." He really hoped she could get the seriousness in his tone. "Why did you sleep in?"

She didn't say anything for a while, and he huffed impatiently.

"Let's call them lady problems and leave it at that…"

"Oh." He scratched the back of his neck, eyes averting to the wall in embarrassment. "You sure there's nothing else going on?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Elsa replied with a sigh.

"Got it." Jack nodded. "By the way, would you mind deleting all the voice messages I left? I may have overreacted a little bit, and I'd rather you didn't listen to those…"

She chuckled, shaking her head. "How on Earth could they be worse than the things you told me in person up until now?"

"Sweetheart. You don't even wanna know."


Prompts by vnfirwg, French_Furays: she sleeping in, he freaking out / she getting sick, he freaking out