Participants:
| Scene Title | One Phone Call |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Gillian gets her one phone call. |
| Date | November 16, 2009 |
Aaron and Peyton's Apartment — Upper West Side
One phone call. Most people would call their parents, or a lawyer, but Gillian's calling neither. She's more than aware the call will likely be traced, listened in on, recorded, possibly used against anyone she did call. There's only one person who she knows she can call who would know nothing at all about the worst of the worst. Who couldn't really get in trouble, because… He's a good person.
And of all the people she could call, he's the one who'd probably need it the most.
The cellphone number she knows well rings, and she hopes he picks up.
Of course, the fact that Aaron doesn't recognize the number that comes up on his cell phone is all the more reason not to get out of bed. But since he's already holding the phone and looking at the number and hasn't been sleeping anyway, he may a well answer, right? "Hello?"
"Aaron? It's— It's Gillian," a familiar raspy voice says across the line. The line isn't clear, but it doesn't sound as if she's outdoors, either. There's a distinct echo to her voice, a voice which also sounds a little pained. Perhaps even sleep deprived. "I don't get very long to talk. I— fuck," she grumbles. "I'm in jail."
"I… What?" It's the horrible sound of shock and disbelief, all wrapped into one as Aaron nearly drops the phone while simultaneously feeling everything go eerily still and silent, save for the sound of his heart beating and the distant sound of Gillian and the ambient noises on the line.
"Jail. Arrested. It's— it's a long story, and I don't really get the time to explain it, but I'm okay," Gillian says into the phone, well aware how bad this whole situation will be on him. She tried to say she's a shitty lifeline, and it's proven once again that… she is. "I'm going to be here for a while. But— I'll be okay." As okay as a caged person can be, at least. "You… You can tell Peyton she has permission to check on me for you if you need her to. That way you'll know I'm okay."
Someone hijacking her senses always made her think it was an invasion, but in a way it's the only way she can let him know she's okay right now. Peyton knows the Ferry, knows Phoenix. She can get word to people that way, even if Aaron's the one she's risking calling.
"I…" Aaron can't really get anything else out, at a complete loss of what to do or what to say. He's not even rightly sure where he is right now, the world having slipped right out from under him. Is he even real? Is he dreaming? It's more like a nightmare, but even nightmares seem more real than this does. At some point in his state, he remembers to draw in breath.
Silence. Or the next worst thing to silence. There's only a few minutes allowed for these kinds of calls, especially since Gillian knows there won't be any bail. And… she's surprised they gave her even that much. "Aaron. Go talk to Peyton. I will be all right. I fucking promise you that. You need to hold yourself together for a little while. I can't stay on the phone. So just— promise me you'll be there when I get out."
She'll be all right. What about him? And how can she be all right in prison? How long is she going to be in there? These are questions Aaron might ask if he were in a more attentive state, which is why Gillian's instructions don't phase him immediately. When they finally do, he realizes he's very dizzy, despite the fact that he's lying down. He takes in a breath and comes to the slow realization that he's been silent for a while, and can't remember what she said to him. Promise, promise, promise. Promise what? Stay on the phone… No… that wasn't it. She can't stay on the phone. Shit.
Aaron takes a deep breath. Be there when she gets out. Get Peyton. Be there for him? No, be there when Gillian gets out of jail. Jail. JAIL. Perhaps some other Aaron would get all sarcastic and ask 'when are you getting out?' Aaron can't even think that. Horror stories; evolved people disappearing, never to be heard from again. No, don't think of that, that's not a good thing to think about. Breathe in. Breathe out. "I promise," he finally says, though his words are very airy. He sounds dazed, and he has no real comprehension of what he is promising.
"You better keep it or I'll punch you in the face," Gillian says, sounding threatening, but also a little relieved all at the same time. Course punching him in the face would mean he'd have to be there when she gets out— and she'd have to get out. She doubts anyone will mount a rescue for her sake. Will anyone except him even care that she's not there? "I gotta go. Hold it together until I get myself out of this," she finally says, and then the line cuts off.