The black and silver portable phone on Ben's night table rang shrilly, rousing her from a deep sleep. In her fatigued stupor, she imagined it was her alarm, and smashed her fist down upon the clock, then realized it was the phone and groggily reached for the handset.
"Huh-Hello?" She opened a bleary eye and read the bright red numbers on her clock: half past one in the morning. This had better be important.
"Benjamin Wallace?" came the sharp reply from the other end.
"Um…yeah. Speaking." Who else?
"Dorothy Rutherford calling on behalf of the Miami Crime Lab. We're really busy this evening, and I was asked to phone you to see if you're available to help relieve the night shift."
You have got to be kidding me. Benny sighed grumpily, having been interrupted from her first solid night's sleep in several weeks. "Yeah, um, just hang on. It'll take me a while to get there but—"she yawned sleepily "Yeah, I'll be in as soon as I can."
"The department thanks you for your cooperation, and assures you that you will be compensated with ample overtime hours." replied the too-cheery receptionist.
After hanging up, Benny lay in bed for a moment, visibly distraught that, yes, she was about to go into work on her day off, during someone else's shift. She then pulled on the first clothes she found in her dresser, not even bothering to brush her hair, but merely grabbing a protein bar on her way out.
Despite the thin amount of traffic, it was past two o'clock when Benny pulled into the Crime Lab parking lot. She was in a slightly better mood, having listened to her music loudly throughout the ride, but still in no mood to socialize, so she headed straight to her locker, where she grabbed her gun and badge, and when the receptionist handed her an assignment slip, she barely nodded before stalking out the front doors, only to run right into an equally unpleased colleague.
Ryan Wolfe had clearly not been sleeping well, either. His eyes were noticeably red, surrounded with dark circles, and his hair stuck out in most directions. His clothes, usually so well coordinated and crisply ironed, were unkempt and wrinkled. He had a visible amount of stubble, most of which had accumulated around his chin. His black, thick-framed glasses, which he only ever wore at home, slid down his nose. When Ben collided with him, she noticed that he smelled slightly different than he had before; no longer of washing detergent and faint cologne, but of coffee and an almost indiscernible trace of…rum? All of this Benny noticed in the second they touched; it couldn't have been any longer than that, but it was still just slightly longer than necessary. She was all-too aware of the hot presence of his hand on her hip, the way it had been the first time they kissed.
But they quickly parted, left to look at each other awkwardly.
"Hey, Ben." His eyes were barely open. God, he looks like hell.
"Hey. You get called in, too?"
"Yeah, it's pretty brutal. This was supposed to be my day off, so I just dropped off my car for maintenance yesterday. Figures." He sighed deeply.
"But you still came in?" Benny raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, they said it was all hands on deck. And…" His voice trailed off.
"Ryan…" What's wrong with him?
Just like she used to say it. Long first syllable. Ryyyyyan.
"Ryan, are you OK?" Benny had taken a step back since their collision, but she now moved forward in concern, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Yeah. I hear we're carpooling. Body parts at Disco 14?"
"Huh?" Benny checked her assignment slip. "Yeah, looks like we're on the same case. You need a ride?" Disconcerted by his apparent lack of recognition of her affection, she moved past him, clicked the lock on her keys to unlock her car.
"Um, yeah. If you don't mind." Came his tired response from behind her.