AN: Crappy title, I know. Someone wanted me to write some more. Since the episode comes out today, I thought "Hey, why not?" The last one was from Marcy's PoV. Now it's time to get into Simon's head. Slight spoiler: Betty will not be mentioned in "Simon and Marcy". Perhaps this may explain why. Feedback is always appreciated.
As easy as simply using scissors, I snapped off the tiny bit of thread dangling from Hambo's left button.
"There we go, Marcy," I said, handing the stuffed animal off to the little girl in my lap. "Hambo's all better now."
She snuggled its head against her cheek. I couldn't help but smile, seeing Marceline happy. A girl so young shouldn't have to live through such a bleak period of history. She especially shouldn't have been left alone with a man who can barely remember his name—every night, just for good measure, I repeat the phrase "My name is Simon Petrikov" over and over in my mind. In these times, I needed her to smile.
Just then, Marceline let out a small yawn. I couldn't give her a proper bedtime for it was often difficult to pinpoint the exact hour of the day now. Instead, whenever we felt tired, I knew the day was over for us.
I unhitched the sleeping bag and began to roll it out on the dirt ground. "I think you two need to get some sleep."
"But…but I'm not that tired." She said, yawning again.
"Look Marcy, you may say that now, but one day you're gonna wish you could just lie around and sleep all day."
She started unzipping the sleeping bag. "Mm, I don't think so. I think I'll be like an owl or a bat or something. Then I'll never have to sleep again."
I laughed a little. "You keep thinking that, Marcy."
Soon Marceline was snuggled up in the sleeping bag with Hambo nestled against her shoulder. Feeling a little drowsy myself, I was about to get some sleep myself when she pulled my sleeve.
"Can I look at your watch?"
"Sweetie, I told you that piece of junk hasn't worked in years. But if you must," I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a scuffed up bronze pocket watch.
The thing was probably outdated when I was younger than Marcy and the dial's as frozen as the power of that blasted crown. Yet I still kept it close to me ever since my home was destroyed in the first air raid and everything with it. It was the closest I'd get to having her with me.
The watch was dropped into Marcy's palm, which she then clicks open to reveal the hands stuck at 2:30. "Who's Betty?" she asked, tracing her finger along the engraved 'From: Betty, you're princess' inside the lid.
I sighed. "She's someone very close to me who I'll probably never see again."
That answer didn't seem good enough to the little demon girl anymore; she scowled. "You always say that, Simon. I wanna know more!"
"Well…" I tugged at my beard, trying to remember exactly what Betty was like.
Twelve years have passed since I last saw her: when I returned from my expedition in Scandinavia that I took some of my Archaeology students on. It was sheer luck at the time that I found that crown. Now I could really be her king and she'd have more reason to be my princess. But then I put it on and…she just ran off. Oh for Pete's sake, of all the memories of her that rested in my slow rotting brain it had to be that. Marceline sat up in the sleeping bag so eager, clutching Hambo tightly. How could I tell her that? It would ruin the mood.
"Let's just say she was a very smart and caring woman that I came across completely on accident."
"That's not good enough! You just said the same thing only without the last bit." Marcy crossed her arms.
"Well, I can't think of anything else," I said, which wasn't far from the truth. "How 'bout you get some sleep and form your own image of her."
Marcy groaned. "It won't be the same." She said before laying herself back down, giving the watch back to me.
Trying my best to keep the words back, I leaned over and kissed her hair. "Good night, Marcy."
Within a few minutes, she was snoring soundly on the ground with Hambo close by. I propped my bag up against a hollow bombshell taller than a lamp post. The watch trembled in my hands as I stared down at it. How exactly did I even meet her? What did we do every night? How could I remember the theme song to "Cheers" more than my own fiancée? If only I could selectively decide which memories could stay and go. When Marceline asks me something about my life, I could just tell her the facts.
I was an archaeology professor studying to be an antiquarian. I was engaged to a physics professor named Bessy…no Betty! My name was…oh dear god what was my name. What was it?
Before I could lose it completely, I turned to the sleeping child next to me. Whoever I am, she needs me. Who else will be there to take her in? Lying down on the ground, hugging my bag close to my chest, I told myself once more:
"My name is Simon Petrikov."
Feeling content, I drifted off to sleep. As long as I knew that I was fine and so was Marcy.