"I'm so sorry for your loss, Sir."
Now what was Fool Bright blathering on about? "Fool Bright, if you're referring to the last thread of sanity I possessed, which your presence has so cleanly snipped, your condolences are long past acceptably due."
"Sir, don't play dumb with me. You know I'm talking about your stepmother!" Fool Bright clung to the bars separating him and Simon, pushing as close he could, as though he were trying to escape into Simon's cell. "I'm sorry to hear she passed at such a young age. There's no bigger injustice in the world than the incurable blight known as cancer."
"Hmph." Simon remained expressionless, save for the tic of annoyance in his voice that Fool Bright would choose to dwell on this topic for longer than Simon himself mentally had. "Although I never did wish for her to meet such a early and likely painful end, I can not say I'm experiencing any grief at the thought of never seeing or talking to her again. That chapter of my life is behind me, and she was never even an integral part of it to begin with."
"...That's not what I heard from Ms. Blackquill – your sister – when she left from visiting you the other day! She said you would be devastated if you were unable to attend your stepmother's funeral this weekend."
"And you believed her?!" Curse Aura! Why was she so meddlesome, and seemingly even more so when she knew how much it would irritate Simon? Well, he supposed she would not be much of an older sister if she were not. "Fool Bright, did it not occur to you she was merely using that as a ploy to attempt to spring me from here, if only momentarily?"
"Oh... Well! I didn't know, honestly!"
And Fool Bright wouldn't, seeing as how Simon rarely, if ever, brought up either of his parents, other than their names and that they had divorced when he was still a small child. Fool Bright intuitively understood how much Simon cared for Aura despite their differences, and Simon barely discussed her, either. This deception from Aura was hardly anything Simon could blame Fool Bright – or anyone other than Aura herself – for.
"Consider yourself informed, and find a way to relay to Aura that there is absolutely no feasible way I could attend."
"I already..." Fool Bright dropped his head, causing his words to become slightly muffled. "I already put in the request to grant you permission to attend, and... and it wasn't easy, but I... I did get you it. You've been on such good behavior since... since we've... well, anyway, I told them it's kind of an extenuating circumstance and -"
"And nothing, Fool Bright, I'm not-"
"Sir!" Fool Bright met Simon's gaze again, his voice becoming sharper. "I'm taking time off to do this for you; it's the only way they agreed! They're not going to pay me for this. It'd be different if the funeral were a quick drive down the road, but it's twelve hours away, in Albuquerque!"
"You think I don't know that?" Shortly after his conviction, his dad and stepmother had fled to New Mexico, where his stepmother was originally from. Doing their best to avoid all the media coverage of their bloodthirsty sociopath of a son. "And what do you mean, you're 'taking time off', what on earth does that -"
"Well, obviously... I would take you, in my squad car." Fool Bright smiled in a most uncharacteristic manner, not huge and beaming but more of a mild, subdued happiness. A contented child. "We'll leave tomorrow, around noon. If we allow time for breaks, we would get there with a couple hours to spare before the funeral on Saturday! And we'd leave right afterwards, I had to promise to that, too."
"Dammit, you could have consulted me first, Fool Bright!" Who did Fool Bright think he was, going so much out of his way to see to it that Simon was treated so especially like a person and not the felon that the legal system had declared he was? That he had declared he was.
It was something one did for someone they - dare Simon think it? – cared about as a person. Even with them having forged a relationship that was, in fact, rather deeply personal, Simon still had a difficult time believing he was little more than an assignment, a task, to keep Fool Bright occupied.
But he now sometimes wondered if he was the only one who thought – had ever thought – that.
"Sorry, Sir, but I'm just doing what's best for you. Even if you don't want to go to the funeral, I think it's just... really important you start to acclimate yourself back to the... the real world. For when you're released. I didn't think you'd say 'no' to that opportunity."
"If I'm released, Fool Bright."
"For when you're released, Sir." Fool Bright repeated, a gentle kindness outweighing the enthusiasm present through most of their conversation. "Would it really be that bad?"
Simon looked beyond Fool Bright – they were alone as could be – and drew his right hand up to curl it around the same bar as Fool Bright's left. His thumb grazed in slow, lazy circles over the soft cloth covering Fool Bright's knuckles.
"I suppose that no, ultimately there are far worse ways to while away a weekend." What Simon held back was that, try as he might to rack his brain for anything better than to waste nearly two days accompanied by both freedom and his Fool Bright, he could not.
Being ready to die was not entirely exclusive of still, sometimes, wanting to very much live.
Fool Bright's unamused stare met Simon's smirking one via the rear view mirror.
"Fool Bright, I believe I asked you a question, and I would like for you to -"
"Sir! You know perfectly well as I do that we are not 'there yet'." Currently, they were several blocks from the prison, caught in the crush of L.A. traffic that never seemed to wane. "Now, please, we can talk if you'd like but I can't have you distracting me on purpose. I have a perfect driving record, and I can't even begin to guess the kind of trouble I'd get into if I received any kind of infraction while transporting a prisoner!"
Oh, Fool Bright. He'd certainly never protested any of the ways Simon attempted to distract him when they were alone together in the past.
"Hmph, and then how do you suggest I pass the next twelve hours, without you as an option for my entertainment?"
"Well, I'm going to listen to these audiobooks I brought along, so you can listen too if you want." He fiddled with a thin cord plugged into his radio, attached to a small audio device. "Do you know the Ryan Jackson series, by Clancy Thomas? Ah, it's one of my favorites and I've been meaning to catch up, and now's the perfect chance."
Now it was Simon's turn to appear unamused. "Fool Bright, I have not exactly a large selection of novels at my disposal, in the prison."
"Oh... yeah, I guess not, but I could always find more if you really wanted some. Though I guess you more like those... what's it called, Ranuto? And Sailor Scouts, and – well, all those comics I find stashed under your pillow. Maybe Ryan Jackson wouldn't really be your thing."
Dammit, Simon tried his best to hide the manga Aura mailed him every so often, but there weren't exactly many places in which to do so. It didn't help that Fool Bright had become so intimately familiar with his cell, either.
"Silence! None of this is pertinent to our trip. Forget I asked, I shall merely enjoy the scenery."
"Oh, sure it is. Pertinent, I mean. I put some of those comics in that backpack there!" He reached back to wave towards the backpack resting on the floor. "Only a couple, but I think they're new ones; they're the ones Ms. Blackquill brought in when she came to visit you about your stepmom. I thought it'd be a nice surprise to wait until... well, now, to give them to you."
Sure enough, when Simon unzipped the backpack, he found a stash of mint-condition manga issues. Inside the cover of the latest Sailor Scouts was a post-it note with distinct slanted cursive.
"Have fun with the only girlfriends you'll ever get, you fucking weeb. - Aura"
A wisp of a smile curled Simon's lips. Ever since his sentence, he hadn't been one to follow through any of Aura's demands but this... well, he could oblige.
"There's some snacks in there too, Sir. I hope you like licorice... I think it's one of the best travel foods there is! I got the red and the black kinds."
"I see that." Simon ripped open a bag of the black licorice; how Fool Bright could have guessed his preference for it, he didn't know. Likely, it was the case that Fool Bright favored the red, and Simon's tastes always seemed to oppose his, leading Fool Bright to the correct supposition.
Simon settled further down into the seat, shifting around a bit that the lime green travel pillow Fool Bright had provided him with was cushy and comfortable around his neck. He wedged the bag of licorice into the crook of his bent arm, pulled a string out, and opened to the first page of Sailor Scouts.
He couldn't recall the last time he didn't read an issue of Sailor Scouts entirely in one sitting, but this would likely be the first. For all Fool Bright had chided Simon about him not becoming a distraction, Simon was the one very much distracted.
He kept lifting his head to glance out the window, and every time his breath would still. Had it always looked like this, the outside? It wasn't as if he hadn't ever been outside of the prison walls in the past six years, not with all the hearings and evaluations he needed to be transported to. But ultimately it was all part of one extensive cage, a labyrinth with no exits and only dead ends. Simon could not put his arms out without feeling the weight of his shackles, without the knowledge his fingers would only come to land on iron bars regardless of what direction he reached towards.
But here, in the confines of the backseat of Fool Bright's squad car, he felt freer than... than he rightly should, as a death row inmate. Was this what Fool Bright had meant, slowly introducing Simon back into the "real world"? Because Simon knew that (it wouldn't happen, but theoretically speaking) if he were to one day be led out of prison alive and not in a wooden box, it would bring him to his knees.
Everything caught his attention, every last minuscule detail in the small frame he was viewing it from. The city sky, beautiful even with the skyscrapers and smog intruding upon it, even more stunning as the grey dissipated to a lucid blue. The buildings that soon became majestic trees, and the rainbow of flora that he couldn't discern as they sped by.
And sometimes, when he needed the briefest recess from the scenery around him, he'd glance towards the rear view mirror. And Fool Bright, even with being so diligently determined to remain focused on the road ahead, would always glance back.
The last thing Simon remembered was Fool Bright asking him if he wanted anything when they stopped to refill for gas. When he opened his eyes again, they were pulling into a lot amid a cluster of fast food restaurants.
"Oh great, you're awake, Sir!"
Simon straightened in the backseat, mumbling unintelligibly as he did. Had he really been asleep? The steady lull of Fool Bright having consistently gone the speed limit combined with the warmth of the afternoon sun blanketing him through the window must have led him straight into Hypnos's clutches.
"This is perfect, I just got to the end of a chapter." Fool Bright unbuckled his seatbelt, turned in his seat the best he could to address Simon. "Whaddya say to lunch?"
"Already?" Simon's mouth was sticky (likely the entire bag of licorice he'd consumed) and his stomach heavy (again, the licorice). What he would say to lunch was a vehement 'no'.
But – he watched Fool Bright gather up the manacles and exit the front – it wasn't really his decision, when it came down to it all.
"'Already'?" Fool Bright folded the driver's seat down to give Simon access, but Simon didn't budge. "It's been four hours! We're almost to Arizona. Now, c'mon, let's get a quick bite to eat."
"I..." He couldn't take his eyes off the heavy iron shackles. "Is it necessary to bind me in those for, as you say, a 'quick bite'?"
"Well, to be honest, Sir, since I'm not on department time I don't have to comply to every single rule. For instance, you should have been cuffed the entire ride, but I thought... well, I am trying to get you used to being back... here. But I have to when we're out among the public, you know that. It's always been like that." Fool Bright paused, likely having realized Simon was the last person he needed to point that out to. "But it won't always be, okay? So just... come on."
"I'd much prefer if we kept going, Fool Bright. Even though I haven't been out amongst civilization in years, I can still assure you that we will approach another one of these swill-shilling huts some time in the near future."
"Of course we will, Sir, but that one will have people too! So let's just get it over with? Hey, we could always eat outside here, on the patio." He threw the manacles over his shoulder so he could wave towards the art-deco design tables and benches surrounding the front portion of the restaurant. The chains jangled harshly, offsetting his friendly tone. "It's such a nice day. And that way, no one would really notice your um... situation. It'd be... just the two of us, sort of."
Simon ignored responding to the final sentence, and tried to ignore the way it swam so warmly into his ears, down inside him and spreading everywhere. "Fool Bright, you are driving a police cruiser. They will somewhat notice. I'm not hungry, either, I-"
"Sir, you always say that, and I know it's not-"
Simon balled up the empty licorice bag and tossed it at Fool Bright. It binked off his chest and fell to the ground.
"Sir!" Fool Bright snatched it up and stuffed it into his pocket, as incredulous as he'd been insistent upon lunch. "That was supposed to last us the whole trip – and back!"
"I thought you were the one who urged that I eat more."
"Not an entire bag of licorice! That's... you know what?!"
Simon didn't have time to answer, because his arms were grabbed and he was yanked forward, finding himself awkwardly twisted that he were laying halfway out of the cruiser, legs bent up on the driver's seat, back on the pavement. In the time it took him to establish his bearings, his wrists had already been seized in metal.
Even upside-down, he had a perfect view of the fact that they were being watched – by families, children, everyone passing by. The flashbacks resurfacing in his mind were sickeningly unpleasant in how vivid they were, even years later. How he had always been looked at, by family, by classmates, by complete strangers; by the courts, and not without judgment. Never without judgment.
Except by the two people he'd proudly sacrificed his freedom for, and the grinning face hovering over him.
"I despise you, Fool Bright," Simon growled.
"That's great, Sir!" Simon was hauled to his feet, and he caught the beginning of a smirk as Fool Bright placed his hand firmly on Simon's lower back to usher him towards the patio tables. "You can keep on despising me over lunch!"
Despite his insistence earlier, Fool Bright seemed content to allow Simon only a large beverage (unsweetened iced tea, of course; nothing sugary after his licorice binge), while he occupied himself with a cheeseburger and fries.
And Simon, for all his protesting, found the intermittent glances in their direction bearable compared to being able to stretch his legs out. To breathing in air that was dry, but naturally so and not just recycled perpetually through dusty pipes and vents.
To viewing the whole of the sky above and before them, cloudless and spectacular and dotted with the occasional string of birds. Simon could have easily envied their position – their freedom – but he only felt the sheerest sense of joy being able to simply watch them fly, so untouched by any cares or troubles.
Fool Bright didn't try to make conversation either, which Simon didn't find outstandingly strange, if only because Fool Bright seemed, this entire time, determined to remain solemn due to the whole catalyst for them being on this journey in the first place. Simon was certain that, in Fool Bright's mind, he was giving Simon the space one would typically require if attempting to grapple with the loss of a parent or guardian.
Simon pressed in all the little bubbles on the lid of his iced tea designating what sort of drink it was, and was met with no opposition from Fool Bright as he took his soda and did the same.
"You're enjoying yourself, Sir?"
Simon passed Fool Bright's soda back to him. "Hmph. I am just idling away the time until you finish."
"I'm just about done, we can get going in a few! ...If you're ready to, of course. We're making pretty good time, so I'm not in a hurry."
Simon kept his head down as he sipped his iced tea and avoided Fool Bright's gaze, one he knew was honed on him with only the utmost fondness and... and affection. He'd been exposed to it numerous times but had still not grown accustomed to it, how intense it was, imprinting on his being even more than the welts his shackles had permanently created around his wrists.
"Fool Bright, I... you were correct when you said it was a nice day, and so..." Another slurp of tea, this one loud and signifying he was reaching the bottom of the cup. " I.. I am glad we ate outside. You and I."
"Well, I'm glad that you're glad! See, I knew it'd be good to ease you back into... all this. It can really go a long way into how..." He paused thoughtfully. "You know, sometimes it's easy to lose sight of just how possible a positive outcome can be, when no one's around to remind you."
"Yes, I..." Simon turned his head, continuing to force out every last drop of iced tea through his straw, and was met with a curious sight.
A flock of pigeons had congregated in the lot fairly close to Fool Bright's car, around a baggie of onion rings some miscreant had been too lazy to bother walking ten feet to dispose of in the nearest trash receptacle.
"Fool Bright, wait a moment." From Fool Bright's tray, Simon took the little wrapper of fries, which had no more than a dozen left. He tore a few of them into smaller pieces, then rose from his seat to slowly approach the gaggle of pigeons.
"Uh... Sir? You might not want to-"
"Fool Bright..." Warning edged Simon's voice, and he scattered some of the bits towards the pigeons. He really had no inkling as to why Fool Bright should care about this.
"Sir, you really shouldn't-"
"Silence, Fool Bright." He inched closer, lightly underhanded another smattering of fry bits at the birds. "What, have you suddenly been possessed by the spirit of my departed stepmother? For you sound exactly like her. 'Don't feed the pigeons, Simon, they're nothing but vermin with wings!'"
Fool Bright too had left his seat at the table, and was now standing a few feet to Simon's side, leaning back against the trunk of his cruiser. "Oh, Sir, I wasn't going to say that at all. You shouldn't feed them, but because it could make them sick. You should know that."
He did know that, very well, but the poor creatures... them gorging themselves on greasy orts thrown aside was different than being given one or two by a generous hand. They were scum that most would gladly see eradicated from this earth, and Simon had felt a kinship with them even before his conviction, before adopting his label as the scourge known as the Twisted Samurai. He could never see why they were considered such a nuisance, other than that was just what was commonly bandied about amongst society. Much like he, himself, hadn't any understanding of what made him such a wretched, unlovable thing, except for that was what he had been constantly treated as, through all the verbal and physical abuse from his peers.
And through the explicit disinterest, from... well, he'd already brought her up; it seemed a fitting segue.
"My stepmother..." How should he phrase this? He did not want to speak poorly of her, as she was not evil or even bad in any sense. Just someone Simon paid very little mind to, or she, him. "Well, let me just say that it is quite odd to refer to her by that title. To Aura and myself, she has always simply been our father's second wife. There is nothing remotely 'motherly' about the relationship she had with us."
Fool Bright remained quiet, which Simon took as a symbol of surprise – that Simon was actually speaking about his stepmother, and not, exactly, what he was divulging.
"Aura was a teenager when Carmen – that's my stepmother – and my father married. And if you can believe it, Aura could be even more abrasive at times than she is now. She did not get along with most people because of that; our stepmother was not a special case. I, on the other hand..."
"You were just a kid."
"Well, yes, but... more than that, I... I missed my mother dearly; I was not able to adjust to life without her the way Aura did. I didn't see her much after the divorce, and had no interest in this veritable stranger fulfilling that role. You see, my mother – she did not speak fluent English, nor did she have a full-time job – the courts sided heavily with my father. After my father remarried, she moved back to Japan, and I... I haven't seen her since."
When he glanced over from the pigeons, it appeared that Fool Bright was attentively hanging on his every word. Was this a professional or personal interest? Simon wasn't sure which would be the better option.
"I think the divorce just destroyed her mentally and emotionally, to the point she couldn't even... bear to hold on to anything that had come from the marriage, lest she tear herself apart further. It was devastating to behold what little I did. You know, now that I think about it, I don't even know if she's aware of..." Simon raised his chained arms. "Nor do I wish for her to be."
"Pardon my saying so, Sir, but it sounds like quite a delicate situation, and I'm sure your stepmother didn't think she'd replace your... your mother." Fool Bright had straightened from his previous position and was now standing alongside Simon. "She must have cared about you and Ms. Blackquill in her own way. Would she have really married your father if she didn't?"
"Yes, I... yes, in her own way." And he wasn't saying that to appease Fool Bright. It was very much the truth. She'd never been cruel with Simon the way classmates or even Aura could sometimes be; that would involve her having connected with Simon in the first place.
"But I think with Aura being so disagreeable and myself so fiercely clinging to the interest in my mother's culture and heritage – Carmen took that as a slight, and didn't even want to try becoming... close to us. Now that I look back on it, I can understand; she was young, what one would consider a 'career woman', and ill-prepared to take on two children of completely separate ages and temperaments, even if she did care. There was no animosity between us, Fool Bright; there was only nothing at all."
"Hm... but some people aren't meant to be parents, Sir." Fool Bright sounded less like he was speaking to Simon and more reciting a fact. "At least she realized that and didn't... exacerbate what surely was already difficult for everyone involved!"
"You have a very valid point, there." The pigeons had grown bored of the onion rings, and seeing as how Simon had ceased providing them with fries, flapped away in a misshapen gray cloud. "Also... you seem quite... resolute in that statement. About parental instincts and abilities."
"Well, I am an officer, Sir! I've witnessed a great many injustices during my time on the force. Sadly, even those committed by unfit parents upon their own helpless children!"
Simon didn't respond; Fool Bright's words were undoubtedly true, but at the same time strangely... vague. This was normally the part where Fool Bright would launch into one of his many yarns about all the justice he served to assist these woebegone children, preventing them from falling through the cracks and into a life that only perpetuated the unfortunate existences they were bred into.
But since Fool Bright wasn't elaborating, Simon decided this was simply a continuation of being given the opportunity to speak so openly. That it were less of a conversation and more of an airing of whatever grievances weighed on him concerning his late stepmother.
"You understand, Fool Bright, that I'm not trying to besmirch her name. Carmen did make my father happy where my mother did not. I am not saying she didn't, and for that, I am regretful she is no longer of this world." He wasn't going to broach the whole different topic, of how little his opinions now, as a convicted murderer, meant to his father. "But we've no attachment to her and I'm certain Aura's only attending the funeral in order to see if I'm present, and rail against the system if I'm not. There's no other explanation as to why she would inform you of Carmen's passing."
And there they were, come full-circle, back to the beginning. To what Simon had initially told Fool Bright, except this time, he could truly, deeply exhale after all of it, knowing that he would not have to speak of it again. Fool Bright was constantly prodding him to let others in by sharing bits about himself, and Simon made no bones about viewing it as an exercise in futility – he was a criminal; what else did he have to share?
But he found, it was more the act of speaking openly – much like how he'd grown close to Cykes-sama – that was most beneficial, not specifically what was shared.
One could also argue it was with whom he was confiding, that chiseled away the wall of distrust he'd so carefully constructed. Since when had it not been anything other than petrifying to think of another person involved so innately in his well-being? And while it was, yes, terrifying on some levels, how overpowering this unnameable thing he felt towards Fool Bright was, that he could some days feel very human because of it was worth the fear.
"I really appreciate you sharing all that with me," Fool Bright said as he unlocked Simon's cuffs and set them aside on the passenger's seat.
Simon avoided looking at Fool Bright by way of climbing into the backseat and settling in. "Think nothing of it. Although, you would have discovered much of what I told you, had you bothered to dig around my files and reports deep enough."
"Sir, not everything can be found in a file."
"Hmph, I was only preparing you for the dysfunction that is sure to abound tomorrow morning." Simon cracked open Sailor Scouts, and heard the dull drone of Fool Bright's audiobook starting back up. However, he still had one last word to get in edgewise, and stared down Fool Bright via the rear view mirror. "Justice, as you've reminded me so often, can never be too prepared. Is that right?"
Fool Bright now had his sunglasses on, that Simon couldn't quite read the look in his eyes. But he guessed it was filled with the soft kindness it had been all afternoon. "If you say so, Sir."
