Chapter Two, everyone!
When Grace comes to, she finds herself in the designated hospital wing of The Mall Car. Limbs heavy and head feeling as if it were stuffed with cotton, she sinks deeper into her pillow and sighs. It hurts to think. The last thing she could remember without too much struggle is her and Simon's escape from the weird turtle car. Ugh, Grace groaned. That one was a fiasco. Looking back, that raid had been one of their worse choices ever made. The dull throb inside her skull seemed to agree. Yep, that was a pretty bad decision, Grace.
Still, she can not help but to smile at the haphazard pile of Get Well Soon cards and stick man drawings at the foot of her bed made by dozens of grubby little hands. It feels good to be loved.
Using those warm feelings as fuel, Grace forces herself to fight through the dizziness to sit up and throw off the sheets of her sickbed. She is a busy woman after all, and although she has no way as of yet to confirm, she suspects that she's been unconscious for several days. Her Apex are all probably worried sick. And Simon too, she imagines with a chuckle. Grace pictures him absolutely pulling his hair out right now having to deal with thirty children without her around. She is all sunshine as she slips on her shoes which had been tucked underneath her sickbed and pats the head of the Apex child who had been assigned to watch over the hospital wing that day. Grace has a kind word and a motivational pick-me-up for every Apex child she sees.
It is time to get back to work. It wouldn't take long for her to find Simon and get debriefed on everything that has happened during her bout of unconsciousness. Or, if she waits too long, he might even get word she's awake and find her for the debriefing. Simon is a human stick-in-the-mud when he comes to rules. Then she'd call for a powwow of sorts for the kids to inform them that everything at the Apex is back to normal to stop any continued worrying over her absence.
Little did Grace know how differently her day would end.
After a much needed long shower and wardrobe change, as predicted, it doesn't take Grace long to find her first target, who is currently writing at his desk as usual with no clue about the sudden danger he's in. Tiptoeing quietly Grace pops up behind the sitting blond and covered his eyes with her hands. "Guess who, criminal scum!" she cries.
Sighing, Simon dropped his pencil and leaned back in his chair. "One-One. You're either really brave or really stupid to come here into the heart of the Apex and challenge us like this."
"Maybe, but what can a bunch of fleshy, human kids do to me, huh?" Grace leans over his forehead and parts fingers on one hand to reveal one formerly hidden familiar blue eye winking humorously at her. "I've already taken out their extremely gorgeous and talented leader. Do you think that you, the second in command, can do better?"
"Extremely gorgeous and talented leader?" Simon questions as he takes her hands in his and lifts them from his eyes. "That isn't a very analytical observation for a robot."
"I only call them like I see them." Grace shrugs.
Simon laughs. "Then you need to get your opticals checked. Check this out." Grace's eyes trail in the direction of his pointed finger until…
Oh. Oh.
Simon's right arm. Simon's entire right arm from palm to shoulder is covered in green glowing numbers. Grace is speechless.
"Simon… How did you…?" Her mind can not contemplate what is happening. What all had gone on while she was out? It had taken both teens eight years of hard work to build up their numbers to reach as far as their forearms, and in less than a week Simon finds a way to double his all the way to his shoulder? How? What secret of the train did Simon discover in order to get so powerful in such a short period of time?
Having finally noticed her disquiet, Simon's proud grin slips from his face. "Oh. Grace, I… Are you upset?"
Upset? For a moment Grace is almost livid. How could he surpass her in such a way? They had been neck and neck for years in playful competition, but in the very moment Grace is at her weakest—and her number is down an entire row for who knows what reason, which has never happened before—Simon has her beat, and the victory isn't even close. Grace's face reddens before she can stop herself. She has never seen such a high number since…
The Conductor. And as soon as her jealousy peaks, Grace feels a sudden shame well up inside her. She really should feel happy for Simon. Simon is her oldest and best friend. If he surpasses her at being the best on the train, should she not be happy for him? Her sentiment seems hollow even to herself.
"I-" Grace struggles to find an appropriate thing to say. "No, I-"
"Grace-" Simon begins. He suddenly sounds very tired.
"What I meant to say is congratulations," Grace finishes as she holds up a hand in armistice. She even gives him a half smile, one that could fool most of the Apex, but not Simon. He's known her for far too long. "You've finally beat me, Socks with Sandals. You're leader of the Apex now." A part of her enjoys watching Simon's obvious uncertainty in hearing her words. Yes, she might be a bit spiteful, but the thought of losing her position as top dog is going to sting for a while.
"Thanks. I appreciate how ecstatic you are to witness me beat you in something. You really are a true pal." Simon mumbles before turning his back to her and sitting down to begin writing again.
Why does he have to be difficult sometimes? "Look, I said I wasn't upset-"
"And now you're lying." His nose is nearly one with the paper; he doesn't even look up.
Grace gives up. "Okay, fine. I'm upset, but can you blame me? I wake up to find out that my number has gone down and maybe it's broken and everything's changed and I don't know what's going on anymore! Wouldn't you be upset?" Even as she hurls those words aloud, Grace feels guilty. All of the turbulent emotions she feels are legitimate and justified, but Simon has nothing to do with them. Moreover while she was unconscious, he had kept them all fed, watered, alive—it isn't easy to keep a pack of feral children over thirty strong from killing each other over petty everyday issues—and out of the cold, metal hands of One-One. And, well, like it or not, Simon isn't the best at interpersonal skills. How can she be angry at him for doing to correct thing and picking up the slack when she isn't able to do so? That was his job description as second-in-command, right? Still, however hard Grace tries to forcibly muster every part of herself to be enthusiastic for her friend's newly earned promotion, when the first young face beams up at him with the same reverent gaze that was previously reserved for herself, it's going to hurt.
There is a long spell of silence between the two.
"Yeah, I think I would be upset too," Simon replies in a low voice.
Seconds tick by like watching paint dry, and the room's atmosphere becomes a bit too chilly for Grace's liking. It's time to break the ice.
"Alright, allow me to introduce myself," Graces puts a hand over the cluttered table in Simon's general direction. "The name is Grace Monroe, Asshole Friend."
After a pause, Simon takes it. "Charmed. My name is Simon Laurent, Longtime Friend to Asshole Friend."
"Do you find it difficult sometimes being Longtime Friend to Asshole Friend, Mr. Laurent?" Try as he might, Grace can easily detect the smirk Simon is trying, and failing, to hide.
"Extremely difficult as of late," he replies.
"Really…" Grace purrs before approaching Simon from behind and throwing her arms around his neck. She happily ignores the warmth radiating from his face. "And how can I make it up to you?"
"Hmm…." Amazingly Simon seems to seriously consider this offer. "Perhaps… A third—no! We can start by your giving up half of your stash of cheesy poofs-"
Half! What's next? Her right leg and firstborn child? Refusing to capitulate to such unjust terms, Grace kicks out Simon's chair from underneath him and begins to attack his helpless body.
"Tr-traitor!" Simon yells, his face laughing and crimson, as he is assaulted from all angles by Grace's tickling fingers. "Grace! St-stop, stop!" But Grace is not moved by his pleas for mercy.
"You went too far with that last demand. Tsk, tsk, Simon. And not wearing your hoodie just to show off your new numbers? Bad idea. This just gives me more skin to work with." Despite Grace being shorter and lighter than him, it is going to take Simon a while to break her extremely favorable position on top of him, especially with her attacking him with tickling. She watches the wheels turn in his head as he considers the harsh realities of his situation.
And predictably Simon takes the first breather she allows him to attempt to parley. "Okay, Okay, you win. What do you want?"
"I want to know how you doubled the numbers on your arm."
Simon stops laughing. "Grace…"
"Don't 'Grace' me. Come on, we've done everything together since we first met on the train. We've been together forever. Whatever breakthrough you discovered about numbers I need to know about it too so I can get mine up like that, and it's totally unfair to keep it from the rest of the Apex."
A shadow of something unknown flashes across his face. "Everything that happened before I got my number up… I don't think we can replicate that. I don't want to replicate that."
The hollowed haunted look on his face is what stops Grace from inquiring further—at least for now. Simon is normally so gung-ho about everyone getting their numbers up that such an one-eighty like not wanting to discuss a breakthrough like his is unnerving. Just what had happened between the time they fled the turtle car and the moment she woke up in the hospital wing? The way Simon looks as if he is seconds away from re-experiencing the worst moments of his life… Grace leans down and embraces him, placing her cheek against his. Whatever the cause is, the events are too fresh for Simon, but Grace can be patient. Soon, Grace would drag the truth of him.
"I know that numbers are everything, but I almost lost you, Grace," Simon says softly. There is a devastating honesty in the thickness in his voice and the smell of salty wetness against her cheek.
"Well, fat chance, that." Grace lifts her head to look Simon in the eyes. "The train isn't tough enough to get rid of me." There is hard light in her gaze.
Simon meets her gaze with one to match. They both smirk in unison.
"Good."
Grace becomes more and more comfortable living within the new normal as the next few days pass by. In spite of the massive difference between their numbers, Simon never treats her any differently from before. The rest of the Apex, however, takes a little longer to get used to her not having the highest number. That little flash of approval in Simon's direction whenever she gives a direct order is infuriating—why oh why did she agree to the rule that the person with the highest number is leader?— but the impact is softened somewhat with Simon being frequently absent doing dorky Simon things, and it is Grace who deals with the children more often. When she does her usual agenda of spending time with each one, the atmosphere feels almost the same as before.
It is Grace, side by side with Simon, who points the end of her harpoon at the graffitied door to The Mall Car. It is Grace who utters the traditional Apex call to raid. She allows the rest of the Apex to filter past her outstretched hand, screaming and chanting their own battle cries, as they all extend their harpoons into the thick metal walls on the next train car and use their acceleration to leap on to its roof. When Simon with a lopsided grin catches her free hand and challenges her with a race to the target car, she can not help but to respond.
"Oh, you're on!" Grace laughs to the wind as she unleashes her hooks.
And so, our lovable dysfunctional delinquents are off to raid yet another train car! Let's hope it won't go badly for them this time, eh?
Also, I need to write more mall rat fluff. That is all.