For my Social Sciences class, one of the things I was allowed to do for our current unit was to write a short story about justice. It… well, it turned into fanfiction, as you can clearly see. And I really like the dynamic between Sam and Eight, so this is what happened. :) Sorry for the rambling and stuff. I had to get a point across for this to be accepted. Enjoy one thousand-or-so words of introspection and fluff.
The clicking of Sam's footsteps rang loudly in the bewildered sort-of silence that formed about the forest at night. She was the only one travelling the cobblestone path that wound through the trees tonight. That was good. She liked it that way- just her and her thoughts, and the rustling of the leaves above her.
"The thing I don't understand," she said aloud, tugging her Save The Future For Me t-shirt down from where it had ridden up her back. "is, why does justice exist?"
There was no response, which was completely predicable. Sam sighed, and turned on her heel to examine the trees. She picked a large one with lots of branches, and rubbed her hands together before running towards it and grabbing hold of a low-hanging limb. She swung forwards on it, using her momentum to propel herself upwards, and continued forwards. Before she knew it, she was sitting about midway up the tree, short-cropped blonde hair messy and dishevelled. With a free hand, she patted it into shape, and rubbed the smooth bark of her tree. "Cheers, mate."
She tucked her legs up next to her, and looked out over the forest. The moonlight was turning the leaves all around her silver, creating a rippling, shimmering effect.
"So," she continued, letting her voice echo out into the silence. It wasn't as if anyone was around to hear her. "Justice."
Sam paused to rub at her neck. "It's a bit of a weird thing, isn't it? It's one of those concepts, like love, peace, and politics that no-one really understands. I don't think I know a single person that really gets it."
On the branch above her, a beetle was crawling by, quite slowly. Sam reached out a finger, and poked it. It seemed to look at her indignantly for a second, before turning and walking away sniffily.
"I have a friend," she told the beetle. "He's really great, honestly. But sometimes I think he takes the concept of 'justice' just… well, just a bit too far, you know? He looks at the big picture without looking at the smaller people." She closed her eyes, shrugging. "I guess those people need to exist. The ones who don't get worked up about making big decisions. But I really wish I wasn't friends with one of them."
She opened her eyes, and looked at the moon. "There was this thought experiment," she said, directing the thought at the beetle- which was, still oblivious, crawling along the branch. "It's kind of silly, really- there's four people on the train tracks, and there's a train hurtling towards them, and there's no way to get them off in time. But you can flick a switch which will send the train in a different direction, to kill just one person. And no one else can do anything." She watched the light glinting off the beetle's shiny black-blue back. "And it's all down to moral stuff, you know? Of course it's the right thing to do, to go and kill that one person and save the others- it's what everyone says they'll do- but it's easier to walk away, and it's what anyone would actually do in the circumstances."
The beetle chirruped; annoyed at the human that was interrupting its leisurely stroll.
"It's the same thing with justice," Sam added. "There's all these people yelling about how there should be equal rights, and freedom for all, and all of that crap, but when it really comes down to making a choice, no one does a single thing. Everyone talks about justice, but when it comes down to it… there's not many people acting on it, is there?"
There was the sound of fast-paced footsteps from below- well-tailored shoes, by the sound of them. They stopped suddenly.
"Sam?" came a voice from below, loud and carrying.
Sam tucked her legs around the branch, and fell backwards, hanging onto the tree by her legs. She looked around, and spotted the owner of the voice. "Over here!" she called, waving.
A tall, peculiar man emerged from the undergrowth. He was dressed in a distinctly Edwardian style, and had frizzy brown hair that seemed to go everywhere, even from her upside-down position. He brightened instantly at the sight of her. "Sam! I thought you had gone this way- you just ran off, and I was so worried..."
"Wanted some peace and quiet," she sighed, dangling back and forth. "Sorry. I guess I should've told you."
"Yes, well…" He frowned at her. "There's something wrong, Sam, something very wrong."
"I'm hanging upside-down," she told him, widening her eyes for effect.
He tilted his head at her, and waved a hand in the air dismissively. "No, that can't be it. Let me think…" He considered for a moment, and then clicked his fingers together in delight. "I've got it!"
"Yes?"
"Sam, you're hanging upside-down!"
"No, really?" she asked sarcastically, even as he moved forwards to help her down, which basically consisted of him trying to tug her legs from the branch, succeeding, and both of them ending in an awkward pile on the ground.
He was the first to speak. "I'll admit that could've gone better."
Sam ruffled his hair. "I'll say."
He stood up elegantly, and helped her to her feet. "Sam… Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam… what were you doing out here?"
"Thinking," she said, and they set out together on the path back. "About, you know, stuff. Justice."
"Justice," he echoed, hand shooting up to scratch his ear absentmindedly. "Interesting topic. Politicians and intellectuals have been debating for centuries about what it means."
"And?"
"No definite answer yet," he replied, shooting her a cheerful wink. "Get back to me in a couple centuries. Maybe they'll have finished up the rebuttals by then."
Sam elbowed him. "Come on. Give me a preview or something. You're the big picture guy, right?"
"What?" he asked, confused, and she realized that he hadn't been around to hear that bit of her monologue.
"Uh, nothing. Never mind," she said, a rueful smile flitting across her face. "Seriously, though. Opinion on justice?"
He stopped walking for a second, and thought. "Well," he said eventually. "I certainly think that humanity's capable of it. But they don't seem to be trying very hard, do they? I think that's the problem."
"Wise words," Sam said, and yawned suddenly. "Wow. I'm shattered. Could do with some kip."
"Come on, you," the man told her affectionately, squeezing her in a one-armed hug. "Let's get home."
She laughed, and the two friends walked off into the darkness together.