Fourth chapter is up! I hope you enjoy!

Flashback

"Hey Grace, we're…friends…right?" Simon asks as he lies crosslegged with his back to the ground, body partially hidden in sweet-smelling grass. He guesses that this is a right time to ask; it's been a month since the cockroach monster incident—or what he thinks is a month—it is difficult to keep track of time when there is no set day or night or seasons. Simon has known one or two people whom he could possibly say was a friend before the train, but never had it taken such a long time for them to declare themselves as such, and never has he spent so much time alone with them as he has with Grace.

He briefly wonders if the true reason why is because Grace is a girl. Girls are known to do things bizarrely. It doesn't hurt to ask.

"Yeah, of course we are," Grace replies, sitting up. Her tone confirms this statement as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. "We've been hanging out for a while. We're practically best friends."

Best friends… That's nice. "Okay," whispers Simon. He has had a friend or two, but until now he hasn't been considered best friend material by anyone. Simon hopes he doesn't disappoint.

"Yep, and best friends stick together, you know. Forever and ever."

...

"This is Simon. He's my second-in-command. I trust him with my life."

Present

"I trust Simon with my life."

Simon gives in to panic. He temporarily forgets that he is Simon, Apex Leader, and if his cry of acute desperation brings back a few children who had been hanging around in hopes of catching a glimpse of Grace all better again, Simon doesn't notice. He calls her name, but Grace is somewhere he cannot reach. He manages to catch her using his chest and unoccupied arm. Grace's nose digs painfully into his collarbone, and Simon's mind starts wondering about suffocation—she has to be feeling her nose slowly being crushed, right? Why won't she move? Her sudden dead weight shatters his balance, and Simon's backside smashes against the Turtle Dog counter under their combined load. No, no, this can not be happening…

"Grace! Grace, snap out of it!" The awkward angle into which they've fallen is making it difficult for him to straighten up. Damn it, she's heavy... He needs his other hand to balance himself. Simon wiggles his elbow and his fingers in an attempt to free his hand out of Grace's death grip. Come on… Come on…

His eye catches a peek of that stupid mascot bolted to the wall, and suddenly Simon's heart is struck by déjà vu— Turtles! Turtles… Hazel… that old lady…

"A lot of turtles, too many turtles, a number of turtles that makes you think-"

The pitter patter of approaching feet. "Simon?"

Simon blinks back into reality. Gradually he realizes that he is shaking, that his eyes are blurry and that his face is wet. There is a quiver of uncertainty in that young voice—the trembling squeak of a child seeing one of her leaders in the midst of despair while holding the other. This must look really, really bad, Simon thinks. He cannot hide his tears or Grace's current state. Simon feels the gravity of so many eyes falling upon him. He is not like Grace. Simon has never been able to really hide what he thinks or how he feels; he can only pull himself together as much as he can. The blond takes a deep breath and fights the overwhelming sound of his own heartbeat drumming in his ears.

"Prepare a fresh bed in the hospital wing…" Simon hears himself say. There is a pause as both the silence and the tension mounts; two or three of the Apex are left standing, eyeing Grace's now limp body as Simon finally has enough momentum to shift her from right chest to opposite arm. "Now," Simon finishes in a low voice—today's apprehension has hardened him—and finally the remaining scatter.

Delivering Grace to the hospital wing is the most logical action to take, but deep inside himself, Simon is beginning to believe this action will be a simple bandaid to a much more serious problem. He can feel Grace's warmth, the rise and fall of her breathing, but for all purposes she might as well be a giant sack of flour. There is only one other time had she been in a state like this… Déjà vu, Simon. He prepares to squat low and lift her up into a fireman's carry. Déjà vu. The atmosphere is suddenly filled with a terrible sort of mockery; it wasn't fair. It isn't fair... For all that he wants to have her, it seems he is destined to somehow lose her.

It is now when they are all alone that grief truly strikes him—he had just gotten Grace back and things had been settling down to normal. That is all he had wanted, just a continuation of the life he shared with her, the only life he can see himself living on the train. Was it wrong to strive for happiness? Even Grace is happier in one week post memory wipe than she had been in all their weeks of travel with the nulls and the old lady. No confusion, no tears, just the Apex, and raids, and her and him, as it should be. If only… Simon holds her closer. If only, it were guaranteed this peace can last.

Simon concludes he should have never trusted The Cat. He had been out of options— first his and Grace's once close relationship becomes strained; then all of a sudden she spends all of her time catering to the null and bending all of their actions to its wishes; she stops communicating with him, full stop, and they have always had open communication with each other; they had never kept a single thing from each other. Thinking back, he should have known that desperation would lead to disaster. Simon had had so many questions, but no one to turn to for answers. Why was Grace behaving so strangely? Why was her number malfunctioning? Who was the old lady and how did she get so powerful to have numbers all the way to her neck? There was no other person to turn to, in the end.

Simon is not suspicious enough to believe that the Cat would do this on purpose, but she and Grace are enemies well-established… If there is the slightest chance—no, a sudden opportunity, Simon knows well how Samantha calculates risk to beings other than herself—if she could get rid of an enemy and fulfill Simon's request at the same time, she would do it. That is too tempting for a gambler like her to pass up—a Grace handicapped is a Grace not leading raids on her various black market operations—and it is Grace who takes the lead on all Cat-related cars. Simon has long since made it a goal to avoid any possibility of every crossing paths with the Cat ever again.

Simon pictures the Cat warming her white coat by the fire, smiling to herself as she resumes her reading, knowing that Simon might just be stupid enough to use that device on Grace… No. He shakes his head for that is a thought too callous to be associated with her—the Cat may be a selfish pathological liar and a coward who could leave a ten year old child to die, but—but it is the only thing that could make sense… Right? But why else would the Cat give him such a thing? Simon could not have known a catastrophe like this could happen—he had felt like he had been the only person in this whole journey who had been in the dark. He had just wanted answers. He had not meant for Grace to come to any harm.

Déjà vu, Simon.

"!" Calloused fingers grip Simon's arm. The squeeze shakes Simon out of his thoughts, and he looks down to see Grace, now conscious again. Glistening droplets of sweat, or possibly tears sparkle across her cheeks and she is almost hyperventilating, but her brown eyes are sharp. Her other hand entangles itself into the back of his shirt, and between the two she uses Simon like an anchor to steady herself. Grace!

All other worries dissipate like smoke into the wind, and Simon wants to embrace her, to ask if she is alright, but Grace turns away from him. However, before she does, Simon snatches a glimpse of her face—confusion, shame—expressions that seem alien on so familiar a face. Simon is an expert on the subject of Grace, but he has now entered uncharted ground. He doesn't know what she is thinking. The junction between his shoulder and collarbone where her head rests grows damp, and he doesn't know how to fix it.

"What is happening?" Grace's voice is soft, though partially muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

"I don't know," Simon answers. The words slides out of him before he could stop himself. "Just don't—don't look at the wall. There is something there, I think, that triggers this." Grace stiffens at these words, and for a long horrible moment Simon assumes that she had done just the opposite and dared to take a peek at the turtle on the wall, but no…she is thinking, frowning and thinking, long and hard.

"Simon…" She lifts her head to peer up at him.

"Yes?"

Grace's leg wobbles as she removes one hand from his upper arm and cups it against the stubble dusting the side of his jaw. Simon shudders involuntarily at the contact—why must he always react in this way? Surely she must know by now—and when he opens his eyes again, Grace is staring at him. Her beautiful brown eyes swallow him whole; there is an honest, desperate plea within them. And at that exact moment in time, Simon knows that the question Grace is going to ask next is going to be the one that dooms him. He just knows.

"You will tell me everything that happened after the-" Grace startles herself as she casually forgets the word "turtle" again, "weird car, won't you? Please… I have to know." So I can fix this… Her expression is the look of one who is starting to realize that she has lost control over her life—and she is afraid. It is not often that Grace allows herself to be vulnerable.

"…Best friends stick together, you know. Forever and ever."

"This is Simon… I trust him with my life."

Simon is the mouse who sees the kill bar vibrating above him but decides to reach for the cheese anyway. He has no idea what he is doing or how anything will turn out, but in that second he realizes that he cares for Grace too much to leave her without answers. In that moment Simon places her above himself. His reply comes easily. "Of course. Anytime you want. We're a team, Grace."

Grace wavers for just a second and bites her bottom lip, but then she smiles, and there is something so supremely radiant about her smile through the tears that Simon grins back. "And we always will be, huh?" she adds.

In the end, Grace decides not to spend the rest of the night in the hospital wing. As usual she shoots down every argument Simon has against this foolhardy idea—Why would she need someone to watch over her? It would be a waste since she can barely keep her eyes open; for some reason she feels as if she can sleep halfway through until the next day—however she doesn't decline his notion of walking her to her living quarters at least. For all of her bravado, even Grace seems hesitant to the idea of waking up on the ground again. She doesn't remember her first fall at all, or even their conversation before entering the food court hours earlier, and when told about this, Grace attempts to make a good show of shrugging it off, but the tightness of her jaw and the aversion of her eyes demonstrates otherwise.

They stop at her door, or what used to be the storefront of Big Box Brian's Furniture Liquidators. Grace still brags occasionally that she has the decadent option of sleeping in a room stylized as a mountainside villa or seaside bungalow every night.

"So…" Grace lingers before entering, toying with the automated glass doors. To anyone else she might have appeared as if she was casually making conversation, but Simon knows she is anxious. Grace doesn't want to be left alone, despite her complaints earlier about being overly coddled, but her nature prevents her from asking directly. Unfortunately for Grace, Simon has already decided how he shall spent the remainder of his evening twenty minutes ago, and it doesn't involve making up some excuse to spend more time with her.

"So…" repeats Simon. "You think you're going to be ok?" His back leg is jittering with impatience.

Grace immediately stops and stares at Simon in surprise. "Um, sure…. Of course." Her accompanying smile is weak, and momentarily she opens her mouth to add something but ultimately decides against it. The amount of times that Simon has not backed her up or went along with her idea during their entire time together Grace can count on one hand—an event so rare that it's practically unnerving to witness. She takes a step back to observe Simon, really observe him, and notes all the recent changes she sees—the more neatly combed hair, the atrociously large number climbing his arm, the absence of that ratty white hoody she had poked at him about in private amongst other things… Some unidentified portion of Grace's subconscious comments to itself that things—he, she, they— are changing far too quickly for her liking.

"Okay… Alright. Goodnight." Simon turns to leave.

"Goodnight," Grace calls after him. She remains in the doorway, glass doors continuously opening and closing, for a long time after he leaves, but Simon never sees.

A long time ago two children made the pledge to stick together, forever, and never to leave the other behind—this still means something to Simon.

I trust Simon with my life.

Whenever Grace declares that statement to a potential Apex inductee, Simon always feels a flash of pride that he could be that person to her, that one person in the entire world whom Grace trusts the most. There is no chance that Simon would fail her now, now when his oldest and best friend needs him more than ever.

Simon packs quickly and carefully, heavier objects on bottom, lighter, more delicate things on top, enough nonperishable food to sustain him for at least two weeks. One never knows when transversing the train what to expect. Simon can't predict how long he would be gone as his quarry is a particularly sly one, but he gives himself a month to get the job done. Any longer and the Apex would start to think him dead. They would still have Grace, but… Grace's condition is an unknown; they might not have Grace for long. Simon hooks his number tracker onto a belt loop and pats it for good measure.

The truth is that Grace has asked him for answers; however, Simon can only give a partial explanation—or confession, rather. There is only one being on the train who will be able to deliver a true explanation, the one who gave him the damned memory tape in the first place, the only one responsible for this entire mess. Grace has asked him for answers, but Simon cannot even start until he has an answer for her condition. The only thing he can do is to track down the one responsible and drag her back to face judgment by her shiny, white coat.

It is time to track down the Cat.

Thanks for reading!