Break Out?
"And there you have it!"
I yank off the blindfold even as I hear my guide chuckling at his handiwork. We are indeed outside of the prison. Or at least, I am.
"Yeah, free as a bird," Yancy adds, smiling from the other side of the bars. The gate keeping everyone locked inside stands between him and me, slightly ajar, and I have no clue how he's done it, but when he said he'd break me out, he meant it, and delivered true in the end. I stare, stumped at exactly how he got me out, but also confused as to why he's still over there, behind the bars, and actually smiling about it.
"Yeah. Oh, and I think this is … youse's?" Yancy removes one of his hands from grasping the bars and retrieves the very thing that landed me and my partner in this whole prison mess. He passes the box over to me. I'm almost hesitant to take it back, but my hands accept it on autopilot.
"How did you- ?"
"Yeah, I, uh, I stopped by the warden's office to have a little 'chat.' And I saw that thing that youse walked in with, so's … I dunno. I thought you'd want it." His expression morphs into nonchalance as he shrugs. Grabbing it didn't mean much to him, but he did it anyway. This must be the most considerate convict I've ever met. I haven't met one before today, really, but I doubt I ever will meet another one. Fingers crossed.
My hands work open the box, the top half smoothly clicking up to give me a glimpse of the contents. A key shines from the bottom and I catch my breath.
It couldn't be …
My attention swings back to Yancy. He's back to holding the bars and has opted to look through them rather than step around the angle the partially open gate provides. He's ready to swing them shut when needed, I realize.
I lower the box with one hand and grab onto one of the bars with my other. "What about you?"
Surprise creeps into his roughed up face. "Tch. Me? Out there? With you?" He chuckles again, but it's a dry laugh. He frowns, making a low sound in his throat and shakes his head. "Nah, nah, no. I … I done a lot of bad things. And, uh … hey- this is home!"
He juts a thumb back at the prison facility and offers a small grin before it fades. "For now, anyway."
He may not have ever come right out and fully told me what exactly it is he's done to get himself incarcerated, but I've picked up the not-so subtle hints in his conversation and song-and-dance number to make a good guess. I mean, he's here for a real reason. Me? I made the stupid choice of picking a helicopter as an escape vehicle when neither myself or my partner knew how to pilot it.
And yeah, we stole something from a museum, but I'm not quite sure of the why behind stealing it in the first place.
I've got people waiting for me. This man behind bars likely doesn't, and he's very much aware it's his own fault. He's accepted the consequences and thinks he doesn't deserve a second chance. Nobody who's brave enough to defy prison orders and wardens and lethal-sounding booby traps just to break out a newbie so they can return to their family deserves redemption …
Is he that big of an idiot?
My grip tightens on the bars and I lean forward, meeting his gaze. "Come with me. You can start over!" I can only hope he hears the earnestness in my words.
Yancy's eyebrows shoot upward. He blinks, the weight of the offer before him sinking in. Every moment that passes is precious time neither of us should be wasting right now, but I hold my breath, hoping my expression is doing more pleading than outright begging would. I want him to make the decision himself. I want him to get it.
A grin slowly spreads across his face. "Well … then youse and me'd better get going, huh?"
I let out an unexpected laugh and mirror his giant grin, stepping back and out of his way as I release my hold on the bars.
Yancy yanks the gate shut, locking me outside.
My smile freezes before it fades away. I stare at him, feeling sick to my stomach. He's watching me closely, regret in his dark eyes.
I swallow hard before shakily asking, "Why would you do that?"
Yancy bows his head, shaking it once more. "Don't get me wrong, I appreciate youse's offer, but, uh …" His voice drops low. "There ain't no such thing as a second chance for the likes o' me."
I continue to stare, my eyes stinging with tears, not just for the dirty trick he just pulled, but the fact he genuinely doesn't get it.
Without a word, I hold up the box and force my hand inside, pulling out the key. I hold it up, glaring at the man through the bars. Yancy narrows his eyes, following my movements as I insert the key in the lock. There's a clicking sound. He's too surprised to make a move or protest when I'm the one pulling the barred gate back open and he's left to grasp at thin air. His head lifts, wide eyes meeting my determined glare.
I suck in a breath. "Anyone can have a second chance, but they have to want it. They have to choose it for themselves."
I take one step back and watch him. I want him to take a chance at redemption. But I won't force him.
Yancy's eyes bore into mine, silently searching, questioning me. He says quietly, "Youse really believe that? About … a guy like me?"
I give him a single nod. "Without forgiveness, there's no hope for any of us. I think you already believe it yourself. Or else you wouldn't have bothered to break me out of jail."
The man on the other side of the bars remains quiet for a couple of moments, thinking over my answer. He smirks faintly. "Youse, uh … youse got a point there. But see, forgiveness don't mean there's no consequences. This-" he gestures at himself, his prison attire, then over his shoulder at the facility, "… is how I aim to make things right. Youse get what I'm sayin'?"
I do, but I don't like it. "I don't want you to give up."
Yancy's face hardens and he looks me right in the eye. "You know, youse the first person to say somethin' like that to little ole me."
A few, slow moments pass. Then a small, genuine smile flashes across his face. "I'll make you a deal, see? Next time parole comes around … I'll give it a shot. Look ya up. Yeah." He smiles at his declaration before calming down again. "But, see … I gots'ta serve my time before I step outta this joint."
It's not what I wanted, but it's better than before.
Yancy studies my face for a moment and must see the disappointment there, because he adds, "Hey, I promise. Crisscross my heart." He swipes a finger across his chest several times until I'm smiling, even if sadly.
He got it. But I'm the one who has to understand now. This is how he's going to reach his second chance. It's his decision. He may know that he can have his second chance if he chooses, but his way of choice isn't the same as mine.
"Okay." The word comes out weak, yet understanding. "I'll hold you to that, Yancy."
Yancy smiles. "Aw, there's my buddy," he says, briefly reaching over to nudge my shoulder with his fist. It's funny, almost like he's a proud father releasing his kid out into the wild. I was barely in prison for a full day, but he's definitely taught me a thing or two. Our fight left me victorious, which I wasn't expecting going into it, but I'm glad for it. I won his respect and that made way for the brief friendship we formed in Happy Trails Penitentiary.
I can't bring myself to shut the gate, so it's a relief when Yancy reaches over, grasps the bars and pulls it closed, gently this time. He leans his head against the bars and sticks out a hand. "Good luck out there, buddy."
We shake. Yancy begins walking backwards. He winces and gestures briefly at my face. "And, uh, sorry for the shiner you're goin' home with."
I smirk, moving backwards as well. "You should see the other guy."
That gets him to throw his beat up head back and laugh loud. He looks back at me while continuing his backward walk and points with both hands. "Hey, visitation every third Sunday!"
I smile, but before I can reply my foot catches on a twig, making a loud snap. I stagger and glance down only a moment, and when I look back up Yancy has disappeared. I wonder if he's taken the same way back. He must have it memorized if he was able to break me out so smoothly.
It occurs to me that if he's memorized the nooks and crannies of escaping the prison, perhaps he's done it before. Just how many people has he broken out? I'm grinning as I turn and walk away into the night. Yancy is already on the path of a second chance in his own way. Even if he should never leave the prison, he's still making a difference.
I get it now.
Even so, I'll be back.
This will not be our last goodbye.
Author's Note: I wrote this three years ago for fun and sort of forgot about it. I added the final line three years later, after In Space With Markiplier provided yet another catchy tune for us. Remember when Yancy stole all our hearts? Yeah … Have a fun, comforting/bittersweet little ficlet.
Disclaimer: I do not own Yancy or A Heist With Markiplier