CHAPTER THREE- Ralph calls! Roger stares! THE PLOT THICKENS! Also known as 'the chapter where 'bloody' is used much too frequently'. Also, JackxDesk OTP. Hereforth referred to as Chapter Three. Also, for those fluent in TVTropes, I hope this story is the launcher of a thousand ships. I also hope that it is awesome. If it is not, please let me know. If it is, likewise. Review, and enjoy!

TO MY REVIEWERS-

THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT, CRITICISM AND COMMENTS. I appreciate it sincerely, and I will ship the kidneys to your houses next week.

Uh, I mean...no, that's what I meant. XD With that being said, thank youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu.

Ralph dialed the number.

The phone rang at Piggy's house, and his Auntie grabbed the phone. "Hello? Oh! Peter, it's for you!" she said with a smile. "It's so good that you have friends-"

"Yes, Auntie," he said with a tense smile, grabbing the phone. "Hello?"

"Piggy, it's Ralph."

Instinct made Piggy first feel offended at the nickname. His second reaction was utter bafflement at the fact that it was Ralph.

"Oh, my God. Ralph." Piggy's voice quavered. "H-how are you? I didn't...I mean...Are you okay?"

It was silent, and then Ralph spoke. "I'm...okay."

Piggy breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, that's great. Do you want to come ove-"

"No," Ralph replied firmly. He hadn't wanted to call Piggy in the first place, and going to the boy's house would only further arouse suspicion. He didn't want Piggy to get caught up in his work.

"I needed to ask if you've talked to Simon lately." He was speaking quietly.

"Yes. I visit him often...why do you ask-"

"Tell him to meet me at the AT headquarters."

"...What?" Piggy asked, confused.

"AT headquarters. Just...tell him that. He'll know what I mean." Ralph seemed ready to get off the phone.

"But-..Can't we even talk a litt-"

"I have to go. Goodbye." The phone rung dully, indicating Ralph had hung up.

Piggy sighed.

After about twenty minutes of unwelcome small talk, Jack finally got up from the table, stretched and seemed as if he were going to leave.

"I'll see you tomorrow, the-" he began, only to be curtly cut off.

"I don't believe so," Simon replied.

Jack quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Why not?"

"Your presence irritates me. Do I need a better reason?" The brunet boy stared at Jack, as if daring him to say something, and then motioned for him to leave.

"Well, goodbye, then. I'll keep in contact about the cases-"

"Goodbye," Simon said abruptly, shutting the door behind Jack as he half-shooed and half-pushed him out of the home.

"Hello?" Simon asked irritably into the phone. "Yes? Piggy?"

Back at EFA headquarters, Jack asked a passing-by woman for some aspirin. Why? For the pounding headache that he was sure Roger would incur.

"You didn't get hurt, did you?" Roger asked testily, confirming his suspicions of an oncoming headache.

A knee-jerk reaction was to sigh, and so Jack did. Partially from the sheer stupidity of the situations he was in, exhaustion, and also the fact that he didn't like being interrogated. "Am I bleeding from a head wound? No," he stated, answering his own question. "I'm plenty alive and well."

Roger shook his head. "I don't know what's so important about this case that you won't tell me anything," he grumbled.

"Nothing's important about the case. It's just none of your business." Jack grimaced and pinched the bridge of his nose; the woman came back with the painkillers, and he thanked her before downing them.

Roger glared at Jack for a moment before sighing and placing his head on the table. "I'd tell you about my case today if you asked..."

"I don't want to hear about your case. That's the fundamental difference between us. You have to know every bloody thing that happens anywhere at anytime. I, on the other hand, care about the important things." At that, the red-head opened a drawer briskly and started to tidy papers in an effort to get Roger to leave.

Roger didn't look up from his face-plant on the desk. "Well," he said, his words muffled by the wood, "what is that supposed to mean?"

"What is what supposed to mean?" Jack was tired of beating a dead horse. To be quite honest, there wasn't even a horse to beat; it seemed as if Roger was constantly grasping on anything anyone said and twisting it to mean something else.

"'You only care about the important things'," Roger said.

Jack groaned. "I mean I care about what affects me and not why in the world this or that."

"Oh, so I bloody well don't matter?"

"Will you please shut up?" A compelling urge to punch Roger in the face filled Jack.

Roger's head rose from the desk, and he gave a harsh stare. "Why? You can't answer, you-"

"No, because every time I talk to you lately I get a headache." Jack's voice was dull now, and fighting a painful throbbing in his skull.

"I thought we were friends," Roger hissed venomously. "Even back on the island, we-"

"DON'T TALK ABOUT THE ISLAND!" Jack snapped, causing heads to turn and then look away uncomfortably.

The silence was almost painful. Roger stared at the ground and Jack looked away. The first one to speak was eventually Jack.

"I thought we were friends too," Jack said, grimacing. "But as of late it seems all you want to do is pick at everything I say and complain."

"That's not true." Roger's voice was quiet, now, and Jack felt a bit guilty. "I'm just worried about you."

Jack sighed, placing his head in his hands. He remained silent for a moment before speaking. "Roger, what is going to happen to me? I can go out there and I won't get shot or anything, I don't do those jobs. If anything-"

"I know," Roger interrupted curtly. "It's not logical. But if you die, then who've I got left? You're all I have now."

Jack froze, and his throat constricted. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asked, mirroring Roger's earlier sentiment.

Roger merely shook his head, rising from the seat. A hurt expression was on his face, which looked wrong; usually it was stern or angry. Never hurt. "I'm sorry. Never mind. Forget I said anything, okay?"

The pounding of shoes on the floor sounded loud to Jack, and he sighed. His head lay on his desk.

"Bloody stupid people," Jack groaned into the wood. "At least I have this desk," he muttered dryly.

"Meet who where?"

For the last ten minutes, Piggy had been excitedly rambling on the phone; so quickly rambling, in fact, that his words became mish-mashed and he sounded as if he were trying to eat and speak at the same time.

"ANDIREALLY-"

"Piggy! Calm down, please," Simon begged.

"Oh-ohkay," Piggy wheezed, not even bothering to get angry over the nickname. "Okay, well, Ralphcalledme."

Simon stiffened, unsure if this were good or bad. "Continue," he murmured thoughtfully.

"Andhesaid for you..." he breathed deeply, catching his breath; "to meet him at the AT headquarters. What is that?"

Simon struggled to maintain his composure at the mention of the Alliance of Truth. Piggy wasn't meant to know about the resistance, he muttered, only bits and details. Hopefully Piggy didn't know too much.

"Nothing important," Simon responded, lying smoothly. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"NO! Wait! I need your help!"

Simon frowned. "Fine. What is it?"

"Okay, Auntie's dog threw up on the carpet and it looks really gross and I don't know how to get the stain ou-"

The dull tone of a hang-up filled Piggy's ear.

"What ever happened to people saying 'goodbye' before hanging up?" Piggy huffed, putting the phone on the counter.

...

"Sammmm?" Eric groaned, rising from his bed.

Sam "uhmffghhyeah?"-ed in response.

"...Where is our television?"

Sam immediately popped up, looking around as his migraine threatened to consume him.

"Oh fuck! Where is our television?" A frantic expression covered Sam's face.

"...I don't know!" Eric, to be quite honest, didn't even know how he got into bed last night.

"...Crap!" the two said in unison.

"...Why am I naked?" the two asked miserably and simultaneously.

...

Percival was currently debating whether or not to ask a pretty girl out.

He decided yes, and basically flung the note at her.

She stared at the crumpled piece of paper and daintily opened it. Percival admired this, and took note of the way her slender fingers were shaped.

sarah,

i know that your with that thomas guy but wil you gow ot with me?

-percival

ps. i like your hair. did you get a perm?

Sarah turned around and giggled shyly at Percival. He wasn't exactly the best speller, but he was still sweet. And, why yes, she had gotten a perm! How nice of him to notice. She wrote 'yes, after I break up with thomas' and threw the note at his head, surprising him and knocking him out of his daydreaming. He opened the note, then grinned and smiled at her.

...

"Ralph. Long time, no see."

...