Summary: Because with all this angst, we really need some happier fic.
A/N: Starts out funny, light, fluffy. May turn darker, or lighter. Hey, my original plan was to have Simon dual-wielding guns and being a lawyer and piloting a mecha...and such...that might still happen XD Whatever happens, enjoy the show and review with ideas.
LETTER RETRIEVED 10/14/54
Hey, how's it been?
This is the only remaining evidence of any correspondence between Simon Harling and Ralph Townsfield. Since then, the survivors of what is documented as 'Case 17' have had no notable connections to the pending 'Case 589-A', dealing with Simon Harling's various criminal charges as of late.
Please contact Penny Ramms for more information.
P.S- This guy seems to be on to something here.
CHAPTER ONE- In which a grown up Simon wishes Piggy would stop hogging the candies (Known here-forth as 'Chapter One')
The rather chubby twenty-two year old turned around with an expression of surprise on his face and a fistful of expensive danish chocolates in his left hand.
Simon had been out buying some groceries, and Piggy had deemed it fit to visit his friend. By 'visit', he meant break into his house and watch TV. After all, Simon wouldn't mind. That is, Piggy was sure he wouldn't mind until the moment in which the door opened to reveal a plastic-bag laden Simon.
As such, Piggy's surprised expression turned to embarrassment as a chocolate dropped to the floor from his palm.
Simon's facial expression was one of mild amusement. "Oh, so you come to visit me for the first time in two months and you raid my candies?" he asked jokingly, balancing plastic bags. "Well, then, how'd you get in? I don't think I left a key under the rug or anything..." The soft-spoken man looked mildly confused at this until an ashamed-looking Piggy confirmed that he hadn't.
"I broke in," Piggy admitted.
"...Why did you deem it fit to break in?" Simon asked, thoroughly perplexed.
"Well, I thought that you wouldn't mind." Piggy now looked a little sheepish. "And besides, I made sure I didn't damage the door getting in, although you might need a new lock."
Simon merely sighed, striding into the nearby kitchen and dropping the groceries onto the counter. "How in the world do you learn these things in college?" he asked, a bit stunned.
"Correction- how in the world can't you learn these things in college?" Piggy replied, smiling broadly.
"You're in college to major in English, for crissakes," Simon muttered, chuckling wryly afterward, his head popping out from around the kitchen's doorframe. "You should be analyzing some sort of depressing book with some sort of symbolism instead of breaking into houses."
The light banter was a comfortable cover to their rather bloody pasts, in which both boys had almost been killed. As such, it was rather uncomfortable to discuss their childhood; they both agreed to try and look to the future unless it were absolutely necessary to talk about past events.
"Yeah," Piggy muttered darkly, popping another chocolate into his mouth. "I think I have a terrible enough impression of humanity already."
Simon merely shrugged, setting down the bananas and then walking back into the living room, careful not to knock over anything. "Well," he murmured thoughtfully, sitting on the large leather couch, "it seems I'm in a bit of a pickle."
Piggy looked over from his candies in curiosity, raising an eyebrow. He grabbed the bowl of sweets, much to Simon's dismay, and sat down on the couch, eating and staring intently. "Welfsh, thgnn, why dn't y- t'll m'?" he asked, the crammed chocolates skewering his words.
After a brief look of mild irritation from Simon, he began. "Well, for starters, the government is chasing me. Stop speaking with your mouth full, please," he commanded afterward. Piggy paused his eating, swallowed, and popped a single chocolate into his mouth.
"Well, that's no good," Piggy observed, chewing.
"No, it's not," Simon conceded. "I'm just glad to be living in a small place like this. Nobody suspects any other motives other than- Piggy, please, you're dropping chocolates all over the place- other than me just being an average everyman."
Piggy shrugged. "Anything else?"
Simon looked rather agitated at the boy's calm mood. "Well, there is the fact that I haven't spoken to Ralph in over a year and I have no clue what that insane boy Roger is doing and also the little detail that Jack's probably gone and drunk himself into oblivion. Not that I care," he muttered afterwards, mouth forming into a pout-like expression.
Piggy sighed. "Well, my life's not so easy either," he muttered, poking a chocolate.
"Oh, really? I thought it'd be rather easy and fun to drop into friends' houses whenever you please and raid their sweets," Simon replied.
Piggy chuckled. "My aunt's a bit agitated with me as of late."
"It may have something to do with you going off for months at a time during college breaks, not explaining anything and coming back with a faint scent of gunpowder," Simon replied thoughtfully.
At that, Piggy burst out laughing, almost so hard that his glasses nearly fell off his nose. He pushed them back up, grinning. "Perhaps," he replied cheerily.
"Well, it seems that your nickname's particularly on-the-spot today," Simon noted dryly.
Piggy's grin faded. "I told you to call me Peter," he snapped. "It's my real name, you know."
"I do," Simon replied. "I never said anything about you being-"
"Yeah, well, I have my own nickname for you." Piggy-Peter gave an irritated look.
Simon merely chuckled inwardly. "And that would be?"
"It's so terribly atrocious about you that I shan't dare repeat it." At this, a smug grin formed over Piggy's face.
Simon's face looked horrified as realization dawned on him.
From outside the house, a very angry Simon could be heard yelling that if Piggy ever called him that again he'd personally shove a boot up his butt.
"Ah! Isn't this wonderful, Eric?" Sam prompted.
"What with all these-"
"And delightful conversation!" Eric finished, laughing as his arms trailed around two young women, both giggling and blushing furiously at the twins' behavior. Sam grinned, two girls near himself as well. "Indeed," he agreed, "who knew that we'd be discussing sociology, of all things!" One of the girls giggled, slinking away from Sam's grip. "Well, y'know, it's very interesting!" she replied.
Being a twin had its perks.
The waitress grimaced as Merridew walked in, the twenty-two year old lanky and rather gaunt in the face. His deep red hair lay in his face, his eyes seeming completely hopeless, a large worn book under an arm.
She hated the boy coming in here. All he did was order a coke-and-rum and sit at the window dejectedly, watching people with this terribly melancholic expression while reading that bloody book. She'd peered at it once when taking his order and it was a depressing history book. How wonderful.
"What will it be today, sir?" she asked, her Scottish accent being slightly more prominent.
Instead of the usual sad little 'coke-and-rum' deal, however, he withdrew a photograph from his pocket.
"My name is Jack Merridew," he whispered hoarsely, green eyes alight with some sort of twisted happiness. "I work for a certain group and I need to find this man. Have you seen him?"
Percival grinned, fourteen and full of life.
"I love you too, Mother," Ralph said dully as the aftereffects of a vodka binge wreaked havoc on his stomach.
The phone number was still in his pocket, the pencil smudged.
...To call or not to call. That was the question.