The Phone Call:

A woman sings to a piano melody played in the key of C. It's moderately slowly, but the deep rumble of a female tenor adds to the melancholy. Elizaveta listens. She listens and stares at a blanket TV screen. The lights are all off, save the dim kitchen light that flickers every so off behind her. The song isn't one she would normal pick but she's listening to satellite radio and it somehow ended up in the playlist. In one hand is a half-finished beer, soon to join the three other bottles on the table. Normally, she doesn't drink. The beers in the refrigerator are not hers. But tonight, Elizaveta tucks her feet under and sits on the couch alone. The other clutches the end of her sweatshirt, his sweatshirt. . Tonight, she cradles a bottle of Gilbert's beer and wears his clothes. It's the closes she's been to him in what feels like forever. It's a sad song, Elizaveta can tell and her hand curls into a fist at the hem because of it.

"Pride can stand a thousand trails, the strong will never fall, but watching stars without you, my soul cries." The woman sings with such passion, such wanting. Elizaveta drinks, staring at the screen. She wonders if this woman has known wanting. If she knows what it is like for one's soul to cry. There is pain, which clenches at the heart and threats the life of whoever it holds. There is longing and twitch fingers that can only have indirect touches. She frowns and drinks more. Judging by the way the singer carries woeful notes over even sadder chords, the Hungarian reasons that this woman does know that kind of sorrow.

There is a noise, ringing, that didn't go with the song. Elizaveta slowly pulls the bottle from her lips and her eyes slant in the direction of the house phone. It would be a lie to say that her heartbeat didn't pick up. 'It could be anyone', she thinks but doesn't make a move to answer it. The phone continues and the noise is somehow louder than the piano score of the songs she's listening to. Hesitantly, her socked feet uncurl themselves and slowly touch the floor. Her legs feel like lead, heavy and weighted but she walks the few steps to the end table that sits next to the bed. Elizaveta stares and jumps once the ringing starts again. Her hands shake as she reaches, the music in the background is building to a crescendo. She holds the receiver to her ear.

"Hello?" Her voice comes out as barely a whisper and Elizaveta clears her throat. "Who's calling?"

Nothing. No one answers. Her eyes immediately dart to the alarm clock. It's not late, only 9 p.m. She pulls the phone from her ear to check the screen. The numbers indicating how long the phone call has been are still moving but the phone number is private.

"Who is this?" She tries again, standing a bit straighter, with more authority in her voice. Still, the person on the other end says nothing but Elizaveta knows they have not hung up. There is no dial tone. Immediately, she looks around the tiny apartment, checking to see if all windows were closed. They were and the front door did look locked from where she stands. In foolish hope, she bites her lip and draws the receiver a bit closer to her face.

Her voice is unsure and even before she speaks it cracks. "Gil?" Click. Elizaveta's fingers clench so hard around the phone that her knuckles turn white. The music reaches the crescendo before settling and the singer's voice reaches her ears, just as loud as the dial tone. 'Where are you now? Where are you now? Because I'm kissing you..." The words are so eerily in touch with her current emotions that her knees give way and she slides down the bedroom wall. Unable to hold back, Elizaveta covers her eyes and tears that have been resisted and restrained pour out. Her hand covers her mouth to hide the croak in her throat, though no one else is around to hear her.

The phone dangles loosely in her hands, dial tone beeping over the new song that's started. Elizaveta pulls her knees up, resting her forehead against it. "I can't…" she grips the receiver, "I can't keep doing this…" Her eyes sting and her tears are silent but the continuous stream causes her hair to stick to her face but she doesn't both moving it. Elizaveta lets the phone slip through her fingers and it hits the old wooden floor with a thud. Slowly, her head rises with rigid breaths and she cries without restraint or sound because things were going to shit and she couldn't do anything to stop the free fall.

"Ms. Hedevary!" The loud bang of Alfred pounding on the door quickly draws Elizaveta to her feet. No. No. No, not now.

He lets loose another round of ear-piercing knocks. "Open the door now, Ms. Hedevary!" She glances around, grabbing the first pair of boots in sight and shoves them on. In a rush of panic, Elizaveta kicks Gilbert's house arrest bracelet under the bed and scrambles to the living room to gather as much of the papers about Antonio as she can.

"Shit. Shit. Shit." She swears while shoving them into the envelope, folding papers and pictures so that they could fit. For a moment she consider turning off the radio, but by now she reasons that Alfred may have already heard the noise. The beer bottles are thrown in the trash and she dashes back to the bedroom and closes the door, grabbing her car keys in the process.

"I'm coming in!" Alfred yells and she could hear his boot kicking at the flimsy wooden door even as she pulls up the window. A rush of night air hits her face and she braces herself at the splintering sound of Gilbert's front door being kicked in. Elizaveta hurries down the fire escape, powering down the small ladder until her nervousness of getting caught makes her jump the few inches to the ground. She presses against the wall, heart drumming, with the envelope squeezed in her palm. If Alfred is looking down, he shouldn't be able to see her.

This is wrong, she thinks as she mad dashes toward her car. All of this is wrong, but if Alfred finds that Gilbert isn't home, Elizaveta is in trouble anyway. She could always feign ignorance. He did leave a note saying he was getting breakfast and she reasons, as her fingers fumble with the key in the ignition, that the note can be used to her advantage, and his.

"Don't look. Don't look, god damn it!" Elizaveta screams to herself as her car speeds from the lot. Surely Alfred has realized either she's left or isn't there at all, but against her will, her eyes glance at the rearview mirror and she can see him running in the dark. His hand is on his waist and she gasp at realizing he's pulling his gun. Out of sheer panic, her foot stomps on the gas and the car rams forward, pressing her back to the seat. But her headlights are off and she nearly misses the car that speeds through the coming intersecting quickly forcing her the press the brakes. Elizaveta is nearly thrown over out of the front window; her chest hits the steering wheel as the car jolts to a complete stop.

"I can't breathe…" She wheezes and grabs at her sweatshirt. "I can't bre…I can't breathe…"

The driver door flies open and the feeling of cold metal pressed to her forehead makes Elizaveta blanch and chest tighten. She freezes. "Get out of the car!" Alfred screams. He doesn't wait for her to move but reaches over her and forces the car in park. With the gun still to her head he removes the keys from the ignition and grabs her by the arm. He throws her on the hood; face down, before she could get a glimpse of his. The force makes her eyes cross and leaves an aluminum taste in her mouth.

Her mind has stopped working, eyes dazed, but through the blur and blinding street lights, Elizaveta can make out the growing crowd of people who watch as Alfred pats her down. Groaning, she tries to lift her head only to have it shoved back down by Alfred's strong hand.

"Keep your fucking head down." He sneers and her arms are twisted into an inhuman backwards position, which draws a shriek of pain from her lips. Something wet is running into her mouth and when Alfred jerks her up by the elbow, the thick liquid drips on her tongue. Automatically Elizaveta spits it out to see that it's blood and more of it his dripping on the ground. "You and your little boy toy are gonna rot in jail together. Move," he orders and pushes her forward toward his police car.


A/N: The song used here is 'Kissing You' by Des'ree if anyone is wondering! Ah, it's late and I'm hungry lol.

-CeCe ^_^