Author's Note: So I usually only write Batman stories, and I was taking a break from writing in general, but after watching the heart-wrenching Adventure Time episode, "I Remember You," I was inspired and had to write this and get it off my chest. Hope you like it :)
So cold, why is it so cold? The last time he'd looked at a calendar it had read May, almost June, and it hadn't been very long since he'd last seen one. So why, why was the world so cold?
It took Simon Petrikov a long while to realize that the world wasn't cold. It was gray and broken and rubble as far as the eye could see. The air reeked of smog and the silence was interrupted every now and again by a scream, either a scream of terror or a cry of desolation and despair. But no, the world was not cold, the cold was coming from inside him.
Once Simon realized this, he stood, his joints cracking from having been locked in the same position for so long. He noticed a beam of sunlight shining through a hole in the roof of the shelter they were currently staying in, and so he knew it was still daytime.
He took off the crown and tied it to his belt, and ventured outside. The crown had been speaking to him, and though he hated its voice, whenever it spoke he could not help but listen to it, as though it were the song of a bird from its nest in a tree, when in fact it sounded more horrible than anything he had ever heard. Yet, he still listened.
Outside the shelter, which had once been a medical clinic that had already been raided, he felt and saw the sun shine down on him, doing its best to restore heat to his tired body. But he felt no warmth, none at all. He may as well have been swimming in a frozen ocean for all the good it did him. He wondered what a warm breeze would feel like on his face, or what it felt like to be snuggled under a blanket with a cup of hot chocolate. He had memories of such things, but they did him little good anymore. They may as well have been someone else's memories entirely.
"Mr. Simon!" he heard someone cry out to him. The voice sounded familiar, but it took him a moment to place it. But when he finally did, a smile broke out on his face.
"Marceline!" he called back. Suddenly he forgot the cold, for the little girl with the pointed ears and little fangs was the only source of warmth he had left.
"Mr. Simon, I'm sorry, I couldn't find any food. I looked all over, but there's nothing left. The mutants must have taken it all before we got here," said Marceline, ashamed of herself.
Simon got down on one knee and put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, my dear, we'll just move on and look somewhere else."
"But I'm so hungry, what if we can't find any? What will happen to us?" she asked.
"Don't worry about that now, I'm sure we'll find something to eat," he reassured her.
He collected his backpack filled with their few possessions and took her tiny hand in his, and they started back on their trek through the wreckage of the world, together. They had been journeying so long, they wondered if it would ever end.
After an hour or two of wandering, quietly, Marceline said, "Did you know today is my birthday? Or at least, I think it is. It was getting very close before, before it happened."
"Gracious, no," replied Simon. "How old are you?"
"Seven," she said.
"You're growing up," he whispered, the thought sending a pang of sadness through him. This little girl, this little stranger was the only family he had left. Once she grew older and realized what he was, would she leave him like everyone else had? Or worse, would he be too far gone before she would get the chance?
They continued on in silence for a while, for fear of attracting the mutants. The mutants were the victims from the radiation left by the bombs from the Mushroom War. Not only mutants, but monsters created from the magic that had been revived by the war. Any survivors of the war were constant targets and had to always be on the alert, especially the humans.
As the sun began to set hours later, the duo found themselves too weak from hunger to continue. They could find no buildings that were safe to sleep in, and so they had to settle in an abandoned, broken down bus. In the bus, Marceline took a sharp piece of metal and carved their initials into one of the seats, M and S. She did this every time they made shelter, whether the shelter was a building or a tree or a fallen down mailbox, and Simon never questioned it. He understood that she was marking each one as theirs. They had so little, and no home to go back to, and so with each mark they had something to call their own. It was a way for Marceline to cope with their constant traveling, to have a home, if only for a very short time.
Fortunately for them, that night Simon caught two rats and Marceline found a dead snake, which would serve for their meager dinner.
"It's not fair," muttered Simon as he handed Marceline a charred rat.
"What's not fair?" asked Marceline as she eyed the rat with distaste. She was almost too repulsed to eat it, but she hadn't eaten in days and that rodent looked like a feast. "It's amazing what you can do when you're hungry," she commented as she chewed a small bite.
"It's your birthday, and what have you got to show for it?" said Simon bitterly as he stared into the pitiful fire that was slowly cooking the snake. "You should be opening presents and blowing out candles on a birthday cake, not eating disease-infested rats and seeking shelter in a broken down hunk of junk."
"I may not get to blow out any candles, but can I still make a wish?" she asked.
"Of course Sweetheart, what's your wish?"
"That no matter what, even if we never find a new home and have to eat rats for the rest of our lives, that we'll always be together."
"Really? That's your wish?" he asked, caught off guard. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather wish for a pony, or a new doll or something?"
"Of course not, stupid," the little girl said as she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. "You're my best friend. Besides, ponies and dolls are for princesses, anyway."
"Princesses…" breathed Simon, the word triggering something in his mind. He was teleported away from the campfire, and he heard the crown speak in his ear once more.
"Simon, come to me Simon, and I will save you…" it whispered, like a winter wind in his ear.
He was snapped back to reality when he heard Marceline say, "This rat isn't half bad. Can I try some of that snake, too?"
xxxx
The next morning, Simon awoke to the sound of screaming. He was used to it by now, but this particular scream was cause for alarm.
"Mr. Simon, help me! Wake up!" cried Marceline.
Simon's shot open and he saw Marceline being dragged away by two men wearing strange hats. Marceline was kicking and fighting back, but she was no match for them. Simon realized with a stab of fear that they must be mutants. He leapt to his feet and chased after them.
Now, Simon had never condoned fighting. Not because he wasn't strong and wasn't built for it, although that was part of it. He hated fighting and violence, and had seen more than his fair share of it during and after the War and avoided it as much as he could. But there was no way he was going to let them hurt Marceline. He knew his chances of winning were slim, but he had to fight back. He would do anything for the little lost girl, even at the cost of his own life, however little that might be worth.
He caught up to them and punched one in the jaw, causing him to let go and cry out in pain. The other pulled out a long dagger and swung it at him while maintaining his grip on Marceline. Simon dodged the attack, and the man shoved the knife at Marceline's throat. Simon stopped, knowing that if he tried anything Marceline would end up dead in a second. Marceline took advantage of the distraction and sunk her teeth deep into the man's arm. He released her and grabbed his arm and she ran to Simon.
"Run!" he shouted as he grabbed her hand and pulled her away.
They only made it a few steps before many more mutants surrounded them, all of them wearing those strange animal hats. Simon felt hopeless as the freaks drew nearer, certain they were both goners. One of the mutants swung a huge club and struck him in the side of the head.
"Simon!" was the last thing he heard before the darkness engulfed him completely.
