oh mary i&#39;m not coming home too soon

Billy presses four.

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"I lied."

Then the whole answering machine message repeats!

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"!@#$%!"

...Billy presses four again, just to be sure.

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"Now you're just tempting fate, sweetiepie."

Repeat! Yes, she did record all of this, just in case.

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One more time. He'll figure out the mystery of four if it kills him.

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"Three point one four one five nine two six five three five eight nine seven nine three two three eight four six two six four three three eight three two seven nine -- see what pressing four gets you? -- five oh two eight eight four one nine seven one six nine three nine nine three seven five one oh five eight two oh nine seven four nine four four."

The sound of Victor drinking coffee from a green swirly-straw. "Five nine two three oh seven eight one six four oh six two eight six two oh eight nine nine eight six two eight oh three four eight two five three four two one one seven oh six seven nine eight two one four eight oh eight six five one three two eight two three oh six six four seven. Oh nine three eight four four six oh nine five five oh five eight two two three one seven two five three five nine four oh eight one two eight four eight one one one seven four five oh two eight four one oh two seven oh one nine three eight five two one one oh five five five nine."

Another slurp of coffee, the rustle of paper. "You know you brought this on yourself. Six four four six two two nine four eight nine five four nine three oh three eight one nine six four four two eight eight one oh nine seven five six six five nine three three four four six one two eight four seven five six four eight two three three seven eight six seven eight three one six five. Two seven one two oh one nine oh nine one four five six four eight five six six nine two three four six oh three four eight six one oh four five four three two six six four eight two one three three nine three six oh seven two six oh two four nine one four one two seven three. Are you still listening? Really? Seven two four five eight seven oh oh six six oh six three one five eight eight one seven four eight eight one five two oh nine two oh nine six two eight two nine two five four oh nine one seven one five three six four three six seven eight nine two five nine oh three six oh oh one one three three oh five three oh five four eight eight two oh four six six five two one three eight four one four six nine five one nine four one five one one six oh nine four three three oh five seven two seven oh three six five seven five nine five nine one nine five three. Oof. That's it. Tired of talking, it finally happened. I don't have a single word left."

From:

He presses two this time.

"You missed a three." And he hangs up.

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At two thirty-nine that afternoon, she calls back. "I did not. You.... four presser!" Click!

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Dark Link presses two on what appears to be a six inch tablet computerphone.

"Guess who?" he asks in his best evil voice.

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In thirty-two minutes, it is five fifty-seven in the morning, and Victor is still awake because she is slightly questionable. "This my favorite devilishly handsome and ridiculously tall doppelgänger? 'Cause if you're not, I'mma feel awful silly in about seven seconds."

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"Hit the nail right on the head. Sorry I've been out of touch for goddessdamned forever; turns out things back home are all sorts of fucked up. And I mean fucked. up. I've got a hold of the master sword now, how's that for irony?"

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"That's some serious irony. And, oh, honeybee, you gotta take care of yourself. How about coffee? We got a lot to catch up on, yeah?" There's this sound in the background like she dropped a whole handful of bent metal nails into a glass container. (She did. She's cleaning up.)

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"I just had saving the world dropped on my lap, literally. I don't think taking care of myself really comes into the picture at this point. I'm not complaining, though. After all, this is what I started a fuckin' revolt on heaven to get to do in the first place.

Coffee sounds good."

He pauses, silent for a moment. "Just between you and me, and maybe Din? I kinda miss brother, though."

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It says something about Vicky that she doesn't skip a beat. "I'm a bit fuzzy on the details of the story. All honesty, I don't remember much about a few years back. It's a haze. But I'll buy you some coffee. We'll talk. Tomorrow good for you?"

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"I can do tomorrow. Things have been... quiet here for a week or so, so I should be fine to leave things in the hands of my generals for an afternoon."

From:

alexa-parker.livejournal.com

Alexa presses two.

"Heeeey you. Rico and I both got stood up on a double date and now we're at a diner looking like idiots. You should totally come hang out with us. Unless, I don't know. You're not cool or something. (It's been awhile, so I have no idea if you're still cool.)

This is Alexa, by the way. Cute blonde one. And-"

"HI VICTOR!"

"...Rico says hi. Goddammit, stop eating all the cheesy fries!"

Click!

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When she gets the message it is twenty-seven minutes later, and she is hopping to put on postshower pants. Hop hop hop. And zip. And a redial, holding the phone between her shoulder and her ear, and trying to tie her shoes at the same time. "Where you at, my dear darling buddies? (I'm still cool!)"

From:

alexa-parker.livejournal.com

"We're at the Multiverse's Greasy Spoon. Rico's been trying to flirt with the waiter all night but no dice." The coordinates are texted to Victor!

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Clark presses two.

"Hey, it's me. Ready to meet the Wall of Weird and go make crop circles? I'm texting you the PINpoint coordinates or however this works."

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A few days after their disastrous encounter in the Nexus, Clark calls her up again. He gets her answering machine a few times and hangs up without saying anything, but finally, he presses two.

"Hey, uh, Victor. It's me. I'm really, really sorry about what happened the other day, with the red kryptonite. I was way out of line. I wish I could say it won't happen again but I don't even know that, so... I'm really sorry."

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It was a long day, so she slept right through her phone, which never happens to her. Never ever. So when she's up again, she listens to the message groggily, lifts her hand with the phone in it to sleep-blurred eyes.

She texts him:
I failed you. I'm really sorry.

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It's not your fault. I'm a stupid asshole when I'm on red.

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I should have been smarter or faster than I was. I was foolish, and I should have done better.

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NOT YOUR FAULT. No way you could've convinced him to take it off.

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