It is the late hours of the night when I am awakened from my fast food coma by my phone buzzing. It's not even two in the morning, and usually when I receive a call so late, I put it off until the morning. I'll say I took some sleep aid and I passed out, and they'll accept it because that is what happens fifty percent of the times.

Those late night calls when I get an automated speech outlining vague rules to showing up because it isn't important enough to require a human conversation. That is when I can shake Brendon awake, hand him the phone, and tell Taylor I didn't turn up because he was the one that picked up the call while I was out cold. It works.

Brendon glares at me in the dark as he answers the phone. He doesn't bother to sit up or even sound alive.

I don't expect him to say anything to the robot on the other end, but he does. "No, this is Brendon."

Someone's probably calling to chew me out. Brendon doesn't move. He just keeps listening. "Yeah, he's right here."

He nudges me and almost hits me in the face with my phone. "It's for you, sleepyhead."

I'm not thrilled to take the call. He rolls over immediately and shuts out the world.

"This is Dallon."

"You have to meet up with us immediately," Taylor yells over the police sirens blaring, "it's an emergency. Someone is going to send you the address. I don't have time, but you're on the clock right now. Tick tock, tick tock."

I am suddenly awake. "Just call Pete, he's always up at this time. What happened to my vacation? It's barely been four days." Brendon stirs and sits up to see why I'm lunging out of bed to reach the nightstand, and to inquire as to why someone is screaming at me.

"I said I don't have time to talk about it. I'll see you soon. Call Hayley or she'll call you." She blurts as the sirens blast louder and the phone like cuts off.

Reluctantly, I turn on the lamp and roll out like a hungover muppet. I am dedicated to my job, but not at two in the morning. I glance back at Brendon and see him sitting up against the headboard, watching though sleepy eyes.

I head to the closet and go through the motions a little quicker than usual. It takes a minute to find out where I folded my uniform last, and a few more minutes to locate my good shoes. As soon as I tie up the laces, my phone chirps again.

I know Brendon is listening when I turn on the speaker. "Hello?"

"Hey, I was told to give you a ring," Hayley huffs, equally as exhausted, "who are you with? It sounds like I'm on speakerphone."

"You're on speakerphone but it's just me and Brendon. He's still passed out, don't worry about it." I grab my phone and search for my charger on the nightstand. Brendon's left eye is open while the other is smushed shut by the pillow hugged to his body. He keeps his mouth shut so he can continue to eavesdrop.

She pauses, but continues nevertheless. I take a seat on my side of the bed and feel around the covers until I find Brendon's hand. "Well, we don't know too much right now, but the majority of the department is on their way to the scene right now. We got a call ten minutes ago from a teenage girl taking her dog on a late night run."

"Perfect, because that always yields positive results."

"I know, right? Anyways, she was jogging through the woods and she wanted to report a murder. Wouldn't go into details of the state of the body, or give any information other than her exact coordinates. She's supposedly there waiting near the freeway near the west Cut Bank woods, but that's about all we know."

Wow. Totally worth a phone call and my presence being requested so late at night. "And remind me why I need to come in?"

"Not sure. You are pretty much the better half of the entire homicide department. Better go take a look, bud." She hangs up before I can try to convince her to tell Taylor I could come in later.

Slowly, I slide my phone into my back pocket and turn around to face the simmering anger wedged under the blankets. He's not happy. "...Duty calls."

He's not happy, but he understand. I'm still not technically supposed to be on the job, so as soon as the initial investigation and cleanup are wrapped up, I have to come back home. "I know."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. If they need you, they need you, and it sounds like they do. I'm not mad." I think he's mad, but he says he isn't mad, so he isn't mad, but when people say they aren't mad, they're mad.

"I'll be back soon. In time for lunch, probably. Maybe brunch. I'll take you wherever you want if you're aching to get out of the house."

He shuts his eyes and his breathing begins to slow as we sit together. "That sounds nice. Vegan cuisine it is."

"Please don't."

"I wouldn't force that on you. Just call me when you're out of work and I'll place my order for Dallon delivery. That... that sounds fantastic."

Ever so carefully, I pull on the cord to the lamp. He doesn't say a word let alone resist when I slide my hand out of his.

"Goodnight," I say before I slip out of the bedroom, "I'll be back soon."

I stand on the other side of the door and listen to the silence, just to make sure he's asleep for sure. Once I'm sure, I take the quietest steps I can manage down the stairs, pausing at the blind spot to the kitchen. As soon as I'm positive it's just me roaming around the house, I turn on the overhead lights and go to gather my things.

The reflection of the lights bounce off the glass back door and mirror the empty room. I shut the blinds before I grab my jacket off the counter and leave.

I really don't want to go. Even though I'm wide awake, I can't pick up my feet and move them out the front door. I have my keys in hand, my shoes on my feet, and my badge hung around my neck. Everything I need is on me and I feel like I'm forgetting something.

I pat down my pockets. I have my phone, keys, badge, sunglasses, and any equipment I'll need is going to be at the scene. I don't need to bring my bag yet.

Maybe I just shouldn't go. But I have to go. But I could say I can't go. Whoops, my tire popped. Oh no, my fridge broke again but this time it's burst into flames.

My phone buzzes again. Pete's calling. "Hey, what's up."

People chatter in the background. He's out of breath and most likely searching through something because of the slight echo of his voice. "Hey, where are you?"

"About to leave, why?"

"It's been, like, forty minutes since Taylor called and you live fifteen minutes away from Cut Bank. What's taking so long? If your fiancé is making you breakfast I want some."

I race into the kitchen to glance at the time on the microwave. It's been forty minutes, even though it only felt like ten. "Oh, shit. I'm leaving literally right now."

"You'd better. Weird shit going on, Dallon."

"Weird shit?" I shut off the lights and rush out to my car, turning the ignition and reversing before I've even buckled my seatbelt. "Like, funny weird or twisted weird?"

The slam of a car trunk vibrates through the phone. I was right when I thought he was digging through something. "Uh... like I've-discovered-a-way-to-break-into-Area-51 weird. Unbelievable and almost ridiculous."

"Isn't that just what you want to deal with at three in the morning?" The roads are empty for now but they'll be filling up soon. A lot of commuters rise and shine early to beat the rush hour traffic.

"Shut up." He laughs. "Can you just hurry up?"

"Hey, I'm going as fast as I can."

"Go faster. But not too fast."