#simon lauchlan

“I’m going to kick his ass,” Five sighs, drying their hair with a towel as they step into the dorm common area.

“Hello, nurse,” Simon teases, not looking up from his magazine. He has that ever-present grin as he flips a page. They doubt he’d read a nudie mag at three in the afternoon in the common area, but Five didn’t dare to look and find out— Scratch that, they never doubted him for a second. “Finally put little Sammie down for bed?”

“Normally, I’d defend his honor but he fought me kicking and screaming the entire time. I swear, he’s more of a workaholic than I am, and his little power nap on our way home just made him grumpy.”

Five plops down on the couch and leans forward. Without bothering to ask Simon if he wants to play, they move a chess piece to e4 on the board between them on the coffee table. They wait a moment for him to put down that creepy magazine and when he doesn't, they throw their towel at his head to signal his move.

Simon catches the towel midair and looks up, plastering a pout on his face to which Five responds by glowering at him. “Normally I get a better view when people throw towels at me,” he whines as he makes his move, placing a pawn on d5.

Five rolls their eyes, trying to keep the threat behind them from turning to amusement.

“If you see what’s under here, I’ll have to kill you,” Five warns, twisting their ring for a moment to help them think before placing their piece. If they didn't know him enough to know he's joking, they might have anyway. “So… Fitness Factory, huh?”

They aren't usually one for small talk, but they're a little surprised he's business savvy enough for a chain-gym. He's plenty intelligent, it's not that— though he'd rather die before letting anyone know that— But that doesn't mean they don't find him impulsive.

“Yeah, my pride and joy. You ever been?” Simon asks, carefully considering how to move next.

He doesn't take too long, opting for the ‘fuck it, let’s see what happens’ approach to logic. Five ends up taking that piece.

“A couple times, actually. Couldn’t stand the ugly sign outside so I canceled my membership.”

He clasps a hand over his chest dramatically, completely and utterly wounded. Although, not wounded enough to forfeit the game, positioning a knight to the center once his theatrics are over. “Oh, boo. You too?”

His reaction admittedly gets a snort out of Five. “Nah, I didn’t notice. You just looked too happy, so I had to knock ya down a peg. I actually canceled because I got a flat with a gym.”

“Ever the considerate Five,” Simon deadpans, exchanging a few turns. There's a comfortable silence as they play, but he eventually revives the conversation. “What did you do? ‘Before,’ I mean.”

Five shrugs and dodges the question with a flat tone, not looking up from the chessboard, “international spy." They try to bait him by sacrificing a pawn.

Now it's Simon's turn to snort. “Y’know, with you, I wouldn’t doubt it.” The bait doesn't work and he moves his bishop a few spaces. “I’m actually asking. A job, family, pets?”

Five takes a deep sigh and rests their chin on their hand, trying to come up with a non-answer that might get him to drop it. “There’s not much. I’m tragically boring, I'm afraid.”

They spot an opening and check with their rook.

He blows a raspberry, moving his queen to interpose. “Oh come on, only exciting people play chess.”

They throw their hands up, making a show of giving in. “Alright, I concede. I had just graduated, I settled into my new job for all of about eight weeks before Z day, and my degree was for nothing. Thrilling, I tell you.” They move a pawn, taking the aforementioned knight.

“So that’s why you're so secretive.” Five gives him an unamused look that he must mistake as a sign to continue. “You probably danced to put yourself through college." With that pawn out of the way, his bishop takes their king. To add insult to injury, he points the bishop at them accusingly. "Naughty naughty. Checkmate, by the way."

“Hit the nail on the head," Five starts to snark, not quite paying attention until that little jab. "Wait, what?"

“Checkmate, now what do I win? A little reminder of your college days perhaps?” Simon can't contain his little victory dance. He mimes poking them, but doesn't actually. He chooses life.

Despite the bird they flip him for that last comment, Five isn't a sore loser. As they reset the pieces, they think of a fair prize when a certain craving gives them an idea. “I’ll let you help me finish this,” they offer, taking a long, slender canister out of their pocket. They pop it open and wave it under his nose, letting the skunky smell seep out and permeate the room.

Simon's brows shoot up with surprise… and then approval. “Contraband? Five, I didn’t take you as the type. What’ll Jenny think?” He takes the canister and smells deeper. "Oh, that's good. I haven't had anything like that since Skoobs was destroyed."

"Janine," Five starts, snatching the canister back and getting up, "needs all of her runners as stress free as possible. Besides, she's got a soft spot for you in particular. Hence why I need to implicate you. Now come on," they insist, nodding to the door.

"Can't say no to that."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And here we are! Home sweet home! Ah, there’s no need to look so bloody nervous, I haven’t brought you here to kill you and eat you, you know. Who do you think I am, Jeffrey Dahmer?”

The doors behind Five groan as they shut and their jaw clenches to keep themself from flinching at the sudden noise. They aren’t scared, no— Funnily enough they knew they were safe the moment Simon had dragged them through his fucked up forest of limbs. He's off his rocker and demented, but harmless, at least to Five. No matter how hard he tries to convince them otherwise.

Their jaw clenches to the point of grinding them down so that they wouldn’t give away the flood of anger, bitterness, and relief they felt. He had become important to them before his betrayal, one of the few who Five allowed to get close to them.

They cross their arms and watch as he rummages through his mess. Despite their composure, their head swam. This whole time Five thought he was dead, they can’t take their mind off the fact that they didn’t know him at all. Now they have a new realization— Simon didn’t know a damn thing about them either. “Van Ark didn’t trust me, you know. Didn’t trust anyone.”

"Shocker," Five thought, resisting the urge to roll their eyes.

They lean back against the ramshackle wall, which surprisingly held their weight. They keep their eyes on Simon, trying not to take in the disorganized mess drowning their ankles. His dorm back at Abel had always been neurotically tidy, the only exception being the few weeks after Archie died— was killed. After Archie was killed.

“But he wasn’t as sneaky as he thought. I managed to find out where all his bases were, not just the ones he wanted me to know about. Since he died, I’ve been trawling through them, looking for – well, I’m sure you can guess.” Five doesn’t want to. They scratch at the little pin pricks of itchiness on their neck that bloom whenever the subject comes up. “I didn’t find it, anyway, but at a little underground lab near here, I did find something else. A certain stack of research about a certain company called Comansys.”

Five’s ears perk up at the mention of Comansys. Their glare— stoic expression, if you ask them— drops and they step forward through the clutter, coming up behind Simon. He looks up at them for a moment and they see a flash of his hazel eyes. It makes them want to puke more than anything else behind that mask. “I know you’re interested in them, been listening in to that chatterbox, Sam, and you know me! I do like to be helpful.” Simon stops his rummaging for a second before pulling out a pile of papers from an old desk he must’ve grabbed from a dump. He holds them out for Five to take, who responds by taking a step back. “So there they are. A present for you. Van Ark’s notes on Comansys. Half of it’s in code, but what I could decipher made for a very interesting reading.”

Five looks down numbly at the stack of papers and back up at Simon. He's doing them a favor. Maybe they do know something about him after all.

”Oh, take it, for God’s sake. Take it and go!” Simon shouts suddenly, making Five nearly jump back.

He shakes the papers at them until they snatch it out of his hands, their knuckles going white and the papers crinkling. Somehow, they can’t bring themself to care if it rips. They watch him slump as they take the papers. He looks relieved. They understand the feeling. They choke back a hundred unsaid words and turn back towards the door until he catches their wrist. He doesn’t turn them around, only speaks. “Only please, just one favor. Tell them you found it yourself. Don’t tell them about me. Let Jenny, let everyone think that I’m dead. After all, I should be. Now go. Go!”

Simon lets go of Five’s wrist, expecting them to continue to storm out. Instead, Five whips around and punches him. Hard. The force of the hit skews his mask, offering a sliver of chewed up, mutilated cheek. They shove his shoulders, sending him falling backwards into the jumble of blankets separate from the trash pile he calls home. After the shock subsides, he grins. “Oh so it’s your turn to get revenge on Uncle Si now? Did you feel jealous when Jamie got his turn? Did you want it to be you? Go ahead, I won’t stop you, get your hits in.”

Simon laughs, taunting Five. But they know what he's doing.

“You don’t know me,” Five spits, speaking for the first time since they lost connection with Sam. They grab his shirt and force him to listen. “You don’t know what I’ve done ‘Before.’ I have more blood on my hands than you could ever even imagine.” Their chest heaves as they speak, and they pause for a moment to breathe.

“You’re wrong, I wouldn’t have taken the deal with Van Ark.” They speak crisply despite the acidity of His name on their tongue. “I learned from my mistakes. I already know how fucking empty it feels to take that deal. I didn’t even take it for immortality, I took it for money. Tell me what that's worth now.”

They let go of Simon’s shirt, but he doesn’t move. He just gives them a confused, blank look and Five can’t stop themself. “So what if a couple of lives are lost, they were bad people and I needed to fund my future. Can you guess that it got out of hand? Does this sound familiar, Si?” Their monologue mirrored his own from earlier. “And I lived. Now, I have to carry the weight of all those people everyday. I can’t die because I have to help who I can now. Not for forgiveness, not to ease my guilt, but because it’s the least I can do if I’m forced to sit with it.”

Five stops, their hands pressed into their forehead and pulling at the strands on their hairline to steady themself. No one knew any of this. They take off their pack and shove the papers in a book they had found, but they keep rummaging in their pack. “Your guilt will not absolve you, quit wallowing in it. These notes show that you can get your head out of your ass and stop feeling sorry for yourself for five seconds.” They sigh and find what they're looking for. They toss a little baggie of green buds at him and Simon snaps out of it to stare down at the plastic in his hands. “Smoke some pot, chill out, you can’t make this right but you can keep it from getting worse.”

Five storms out of the hut— rather calmly, they think— until they hear the slam of the door being nearly taken off its hinges.