Phone Tag (Shidge/Klance)

Chapter 1

Some might find the constant clicking of fingers tapping keys irritating. Others might find themselves with a migraine from the non-stop ringing. These people would not find themselves answering calls from the "technologically challenged" at three in the morning.

Katie Holt found herself sitting in her cubicle doing just that. She closed her fingers over her headset's mic. When she'd first started working at Altea Tech, she'd managed to suppress annoyed sighs. It took three days to realize that wasn't possible. It was easier to muffle her irritated breath than hold it in.

"Pidgeon, my Internet is still down."

She bit back a correction. "Pidge Gunderson" was the name she was supposed to use for this job. Apparently there'd been an incident a year or two back involving a dissatisfied customer and a worker. Things got heated and privacy must've been breached.

Unfortunately, most of her clients were hard of hearing, wrinkly, and arthritic. Some probably had white or silver hair—or were bald with liver spots. But they weren't the type to hack into the mainframe and leak data.

"Sir, is your modem plugged in?"

"My what?"

She repeated her question, only slower this time. She also explained what a modem looked like and where it was probably located.

The man on the line chuckled. "It must've been unplugged by my wife's cat. Thanks for your help, Mister Pidgeon."

"No problem. Glad to be of service." Three beeps confirmed the end of the call. Not even thirty seconds later, a new caller was on the line.

"Pidge Gunderson at Altea Tech. How can I help you?"

"Is this an IT center?" The voice on the end of the line was biologically male. If it weren't for the panic in his voice, his breathing pattern might have made him sound like a stalker from a horror movie: Hello, Sidney. Remember me? "Dammit, I can't even get the number for the suicide hotline right. I really shouldn't be alive. I've failed. I'm a failure."

"Hello, Mister...?" Her voice trailed off, hinting for a name.

"Takashi. My name's Takashi."

"Takashi," Katie echoed. "That's a nice name. And if it makes you feel any better, Takashi, most of my callers can't help me much. But that's why I'm here. To help my callers."

Takashi laughed bitterly. "I'm beyond help. I'm better off dead."

"What makes you think you're better off dead?"

There was silence on Takashi's end of the line.

"Takashi, are you still there? Takashi?" Sheer panic and terror flooded Katie's veins, but her voice was calm and collected. "Stay with me. That's an order."

"Yes, ma'am."

Katie let out a sigh of relief. He's alive. She noticed his reply was like that of a soldier's: immediate and disciplined. She could picture a silhouette saluting with one hand and a phone in the other.

"Pidge, if you don't mind me asking, why are you helping me? This isn't what you're supposed to do."

"I already told you, I'm doing my job. I'm here to help my callers." She could practically see him open his mouth to reply, but she continued on. "There's no such thing as a wrong number. And no, that is not Altea Tech's slogan." She couldn't help but smile at her stupid joke. "I don't believe in failures. I believe in opportunities. And if you kill yourself tonight, Takashi, you're going to miss out on a whole world of opportunities."

A reflective pause. "Is... there any way I could get your number? In case this happens again?"

I wish. It was against the rules to give out direct numbers to customers. But Takashi wasn't a customer. Not in the traditional sense. "I'm sorry, Takashi. I wish I could do that, but I can't. Company policy." Katie emphasized the last two words, implying her distaste towards that rule. "But what I can do is have you call the number you dialed. Just ask for Pidge Gunderson. They should be able to transfer you to me."

"Thank you, Pidge."

"Any time, Takashi. Take care of yourself. That's also an order."

"Yes, ma'am."

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Katie tore off her headset and covered her face with her hands. "What am I doing?" She should've given him a suicide hotline number. Called 911. Takashi was right—worrying about a suicidal stranger wasn't in her job description. But what was she supposed to do? She couldn't just leave him hanging. Especially with Takashi's reaction to calling a wrong number.

"Pidge!" One of her coworkers hollered. "I'm transferring a customer to you."

Right now wasn't the time to worry. "Okay, Keith. I'm on it." Katie slipped her headset on over unkempt brown hair. "Hello, this is Pidge Gunderson at Altea Tech. How can I help you?"