Okay! Sorry for the holdup here but I've suffered an injury that makes doing pretty much anything hard, and that includes writing/typing, but whatever because this is done now and there are some notes at the end.

On the subject of notes, I know I mentioned previously, but Jean gets around with a wheelchair as well as arm crutches.

Onward~!

It was four days later when King sat on the edge of her old bed in the guest room, unbuttoning her blouse, her phone resting a few inches away.

"Alright, what's the verdict, your highness?"

Mary's voice came from the speaker, high, clear, and curious.

"Three more months and five-hundred hours of community service," King answered.
"You lucked out," Mary said. "You know that, right?"
"I do, yes."
"I can help you find a spot to volunteer."
"They gave me a list of places."
"I'll put in a good word for you anyway. Just let me know which one and when."
"Thanks…"

There was a brief pause as King peeled her top off and tossed it into the half-full hamper across the room.

"So! Is there anything you wanna say to me?" Mary suddenly prodded.

The bartender sighed as she reached back and unzipped the charcoal-coloured skirt she had decided to wear to court to look as presentable as possible while not hindering the brace on her knee.

"You were right."
"About what?"
"I should have stopped fighting when you told me to. One and done was stupid," King stated.
"What else?"
"Money isn't everything."
"What else?" Mary lilted.
"I am not slick. In fact, I am the opposite."
"And?"
"And I'll never try to bullshit you again."
"Perfect," the investigator said, and King swore she could almost hear a smile on her face.

There was silence as the bartender carefully slid her skirt off and slowly rose to her feet. Her knee, which ended up requiring medical attention, had been very slightly dislocated; as such, the young woman had been treated in the emergency room not long after meeting with her probation officer and given crutches to help her walk. However, she didn't need them at the moment since the chest of drawers where her clothes were stored was close to the bed. She hopped over on one foot and started rummaging through the top drawer.

"Okay, but seriously," Mary started. "I don't mean to be all 'I told you so,' but I really do hope you've learned a lesson from all of this."
"Stupid-smart," the bartender responded while pulling on a t-shirt with a French pun about cats and numbers printed on it.
"That can't be all you took from this," the private investigator groaned.
"It's not. And, even then, it's not like I would be able to fight any time soon anyway."
"Thank God."
"Hey, I pinky promised that I wouldn't anyway," King retorted.
"Okay I know but I feel like it can be hard to fully trust you sometimes. Not that I don't trust you or anything, but it's just… when you get an idea in your head it's like the Juggernaut. Even if it's the worst idea in the world, nothing can stop it."
"The Juggernaut?"
"Yeah, you know… X-Men? He's the huge guy in the brown helmet who literally can't be stopped when he gets going?"
"Kind of?" King said while making a face. "Jean has shown me his comics before but I don't really remember very well."
"How is the kid, anyway?" Mary asked. "Still pissed?"

King sighed again.

"He hasn't talked to me since I got back from the hospital the other night."
"Ouch."
"Yeah… I can't blame him, though. I lied to him — again. After telling him I wouldn't."
"You didn't pinky promise on that one?"
"No."
"Okay, well… he can't stay mad forever," Mary assured. "Just give him a little time."
"But it's so depressing! As if having to live here didn't suck enough on its own, now my baby brother resents me — more — because I just can't stop getting myself into trouble and lying about it."
"But now you can! Stop getting yourself into trouble and lying about it, I mean. Turn a new leaf, Céc. Really get your shit together. And once your family sees that you're truly making an effort —"
"What do you think I've been doing all this time?!"
"No, what I mean is that once they see that you're not gonna do anything dumb again —"
"They'll still hate me anyway," King interrupted while pulling a pair of very baggy cotton pants from a drawer. She carefully slid them on and hopped back to the bed, where she sat down and then plopped onto her back, her long legs slightly dangling off the side of the mattress. She pressed her lips in a thin line and stared up at the ceiling.

"I did this to myself."
"Well, yeah."
"I wish I hadn't. I should have just kept walking to my car that night, but no. I couldn't leave well enough alone and now look where I am."
"But at least you get that you messed up," Mary reasoned.
"That's true…."
"And… okay, what you did was irresponsible and flat-out dumb but — and I can't believe I'm gonna say this — maybe you should take solace in the fact that you beat the shit outta Dimples — again! — and Jack."

At that, King shut her eyes and tried to will the stress headache that was starting to creep in back to oblivion.

"Was it even worth it, though?"
"You mean the extra money? Or Jack?"
"...Jack," King answered.

She was silent for a second before going on.

"I had always dreamed of getting some kind of revenge on that asshole after everything he did. I wanted to hurt him — really hurt him — and I'm not saying that beating him wasn't satisfying because it was. Immensément! But, now…"
"Now you finally bashed his face in — you did bash his face, right?"
"Yes. And I loved it."
"Okay, but?"
"But now my sentence has been extended, Maddy and Gary are more pissed, and Jean won't even look at me."
"Again, make them see that you're trying, Céc. Remember when I said there's a good person in there?"
"Yeah…?"
"Make them see it."

King scoffed bitterly.

"It's too late for that, Mare. Their minds were made up about me a long time ago."

Mary let out a low humming sound, clearly trying to think of a response. However, before either woman could say anything, there was a soft tapping on the door. King took a deep breath and held it; she was probably about to get into another ridiculous argument with Maddy or Gary the second that thing opened.

"Hey, I have to go," she said while reaching for her phone.
"Okay. Text me later."

More tapping, louder this time.

"I will. Bye."

With that, King promptly hung up and sat upright while calling out that the room was open. The knob turned very slowly before the door was pushed open by none other than her little brother.

"Jean?" King couldn't help sounding as bewildered as she felt. "What…? What's up?"

Without a word, the boy slowly entered the room and approached the bartender's bed, a huge scowl on his face.

"Ouiiiiiiiiiiii…?"

King dragged the word out, puzzled as to what Jean was doing there in the first place since he fucking hated her. Regardless, there was an uncomfortable stretch of silence that felt like it went on forever until the boy finally moved to sit down near King. Without a word, he placed his arm crutches aside and blew air out of his nose.

"You're a jerk," he huffed while crossing his arms over his chest.
"I know," King responded dismally.
"A big one."
"I know."

The siblings fell quiet again, with King staring downward, lips pressed together, and Jean watching her intently. Finally, he reached out and squeezed the bartender's hand, taking her by surprise.

"You're a big jerk, but you're still my sister, and I still love you," he started. "And I get why you did it, but did you really have to break the law again? I mean, couldn't you just get a second job like a normal person?!"
"Getting the job I have now wasn't easy because of my record," King answered candidly, "so getting another would have been just as hard — if not harder — and, even then… I wanted to be with you more. If I had started working a second job, I wouldn't have had time to take care of you or hang out, and I didn't want to not see you. You're the only good part of living here. And… on top of it… I like fighting… and the money was really good."
"But you coulda gotten seriously hurt. In fact, you kinda did," Jean pointed out.
"This?" King asked while gesturing toward her knee. "This will heal in no time."
"But you suck with pain."
"...Point taken."

The pair fell quiet before the boy curtly asked, "Did you at least win?"

King hung her head, thankful that her hair was long enough to (mostly) obscure her eyes because, much to her chagrin, the question caused her to well up a little bit.

"I did," she answered quietly. "But in a lot of ways I lost, too."
"Céc. Don't get all sappy on me," Jean warned.
"I can't help it, kiddo. My lies hurt you — and hurting you is the last thing I want."
"Well we don't always get what we want, do we?"

The boy's tone was bitter and resentful, and it made King feel terrible.

"Is there anything I can do to make things better?" She croaked weakly. She turned toward Jean as he went through some kind of face journey, his scowl shifting to an expression that was mildly displeased, then impassive, and, finally, pensive. He moved close to the bartender so he could rest his head on her shoulder (or try, anyway, as the top of his head only went to her bicep) and then held up his pinky finger.

"Pinky swear. I want you to stop doing things that aren't legal."

Immediately, King hooked her finger around Jean's, not at all surprised by his demand. She shifted and offered a tiny smile but stopped when her brother squinted at her.

"There's more," he told her matter-of-factly. "I also don't want you to fight until your probation is over."
"What if I have to?" King asked as she immediately thought about how she occasionally had to step in when patrons at the bar got rowdy.
"Why would you have to?"
"Drunken customers."
"Okay, fine. Only if they attack you or something."
"Alright."

King started to unhook her finger, but Jean didn't let go — just curled his tighter. The bartender raised her brows at her brother, whose expression was incredibly intense.

"Only if they attack you," he repeated.
"Done. I swear."
"Fine."

Although the two were in agreement, Jean still didn't let go.

"There's one more thing," he added very seriously.
"Yes?" King asked, suddenly highly apprehensive about what her sibling would request. Jean then took a deep breath and looked his sister dead in the face.

"...I also need you to swear that you'll buy me some ice cream. Mint chocolate chip."

The Frenchwoman raised her eyebrows.

"So, wait. Is ice cream all it takes to get you to forgive me?"
"No," Jean responded bluntly.

Once again unsurprised by her brother's answer, King pulled away. Of course she didn't expect the kid to say yes, nor did she wish to attempt to bribe him in the first place. And even then, Jean was very mature for his age and wouldn't be distracted by sweets or other material possessions, no matter how enticing they might be anyway. However, he was still young and, therefore, still believed that everything in life was black or white — no gray areas existed. And that was why King — the queen of morally gray actions — found herself unsure of how to respond. Nothing sounded "right," so she stayed quiet while running a hand through her hair.

"...but… maybe it can be a start?"

King's head instantly snapped up. She turned to Jean and stared momentarily, as that statement did surprise her. Meanwhile, the boy stared back with an open and earnest expression before raising his eyebrows, silently prodding her for an answer.

"I… y-yeah. That would be… that sounds good," she stammered. "I'd like that."

Jean responded with a tiny smile that the bartender quickly returned. She draped an arm over her little brother's shoulders and pulled him close, resolving to do better — to be better — for his sake.

Aaaand there you have it. Here are those notes, of which there aren't really that many:

* 500 hours sounds like a lot, but it's actually a little under a month (twenty days to be exact)
* King and Mary aren't at the bromance level they are currently at just yet, which is why Mary has some doubts about trusting King. (But at the same time she knows that she can trust her, so it's kinda weird at this point in their friendship.)
* The shirt that King is wearing has been mentioned in other fics that take place way after this but here it's nice and new. It's a picture of four cartoon cats and under each one it says "un," "deux," "trois," and instead of "quatre" it says "cat."
* Immensément! = Immensely
* Despite being a fighter, King's pain tolerance isn't so great. She powers through fights via stubbornness and adrenaline.
* On King being the queen of morally grey actions: everything she does benefits either herself or Jean, but she's not a bad person — she just makes bad choices as a means to an end more than anything else. Morally grey.

Anyway, there you have it! Thank you for taking the time read and/or review! Hope you enjoyed it!

Cheers~