Benjy doesn’t call her the next night or day-and the phone doesn’t ring.
It’s shifted between them, and though he can’t put his finger on it, something of him tells him Cleona picked up that he’d been lying when he’d told her he’d forgotten what he’d wanted to say.
Benjy just really hopes she also didn’t pick up on the truth.
He’s almost to napping when the phone rings, and were anyone in the room to see how quickly Benjy snaps to attention, it’d be embarrassing. He clears his throat before he picks up the receiver.
Maybe nothing was weird and Benjy was just reading into things-wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe last night was just a busy one at the bar or she had a test or-
“Hi.” The sound of Moody’s voice on the other end of the line pops the hope in Benjy’s chest like a cheap balloon.
“Not who you were expecting?”
Benjy detests the smugness in his friend’s voice.
“No...just surprised. I don’t get many phone calls.”
The way his former partner scoffs lets Benjy he doesn’t believe him, but Al doesn’t push.
“Shacklebolt was er, talking about your nurse. How pretty she is.”
A surge of possessiveness rips through him and Benjy forces himself to keep his breathing steady.
“Thrilling news, Al. Is that all?”
“You know that’s not bloody all. When are you going to stop fucking around, Benjy? You’re clearly mad for the girl.”
Weirdly, hearing Moody exasperated at him just like he always used to be almost makes Benjy feel a fondness towards him. Almost. Immeasurable indignation surpasses any other emotions.
“Jesus fucking Christ. What’d Mary tell you?”
“Doesn’t matter-I was around the two of you for two seconds, and I’m not bloody blind or stupid. You’ve been mooning over her for months and now you finally have some fucking time to get to know each other and...what? The spark’s gone?”
“My fucking legs are gone, Alastor.”
Benjy says this so fiercely he actually spits onto the phone. Rage comes to him so quickly when it comes to her-and that’s scary within itself. Benjy’s worst fears are true-this love runs deep.There’s silence on the other end. And then-
“I don’t think that matters to her, mate.”
Benjy hates the softness in his friend’s voice. He hates everything about this conversation, but most of all, he hates that he’s having to have it again.
Benjy can almost picture Alastor and it hurts. At his desk, looking out over the organized chaos of the station, finding Shacklebolt in the crowd maybe, for the sole purpose of sizing him up. Benjy will never be back in that bull pen.
“Unless you’ve got a solution by way of a bloody miracle.”
“Hmm. So you wouldn’t care if Kingsley looked her up and gave her a ring? Took her out?”
“I hope they go dancing.” That’s what he was going to do. For their first date. If she’d ever said yes-there was a place pretty close by that gave ballroom lessons for pretty cheap on Thursdays-he’d thought about taking lots of girls there, but something told him with Cleona along, it actually would’ve been fun, no matter how helpless Benjy actually was at dancing.
Would’ve would’ve would’ve.
If he can’t make her happy, at the very least, he owes it to her to try to pay her back. Somehow. Someway. The gears turn and click into place. A replacement.
“You know what, Al? I’ll do him one better. I’ll ring her for him-do the fucking heavy lifting for Shacklebolt to swoop in just in time to get the glory-sound alright to you?”
Benjy’s voice is cold and he hangs up without another word. His hand rests on the handset, gripping the plastic so tight Benjy actually hears it start to crack. He wants to throw the whole bloody thing against the wall with all his regrown strength-but that’d land him in some deep shit, deep shit that might make it’s way back to the girl who hasn’t called.
Almost robotically, with every fiber of his sense screaming at him not to, Benjy dials Cleona’s number.
