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Fulbright sat on his prison cot, thinking over the results of his most recent case. He’d lost, unfortunately, which seemed to be a pattern when he was against Ms.Athena. He supposed he couldn’t complain though. Justice had been served either way, and the death of Ms.Court had been avenged.
It would be rather awkward if he ever happened to cross paths Professor with Means in prison, but he wouldn’t have to deal with that dynamic for very long anyway.
Right, that execution of his. This year had done a good job of making him temporarily forget he was nothing more than a dead man walking. It was a a nice distraction, at the very least, even if his stomach churned just a bit at seeing Athena in court after all these years. Not that he was particularly sure he was allowed to feel such emotions, after being the one to supposedly kill her mother.
He could only hope his appearances in court didn’t cause her too much grief, not that he’d ever show it.
Really, his cases were the highlights of his final months. If not for the simple fact of a change of scenery, it was nice to use his skills of psychology once more, particularly with the power of friendly suggestion. He had to admit, it was pretty funny to see witnesses so easily go along with whatever he said.
Detective Blackquill had always called him mischievous for that, and maybe if Fulbright dissected his tone more than he had any right to, he could almost call it affectionate.
Detective Blackquill…He supposed that’s where this internal ramble was heading.
In all honestly, he didn’t understand the man. He evidently wasn’t fond of Bobby, if the repeated ‘corrective shocks’ were any indicator of his feelings. Fulbright was used to cold attitudes, so it was nothing new. Well, the corrective shocks were new— he could go without those.
If it was just that, Detective Blackquill would be simple, routine even, not counting the goth-samurai aesthetic he seemed to love. But it wasn’t just that.
Blackquill, despite how prickly he always seemed, had been nicer to Fulbright than most. Well, minus the electricity. Was that even legal, he wondered?
Nonetheless, he’d joked with him, laughed with him, even taken him out for coffee. It didn’t add up in the otherwise perfect puzzle pieces that were Simon Blackquill identity.
It was more kindness than anyone would show a death row inmate. It was more kindness than Bobby deserved, actually.
There had to be an angle, Fulbright was sure. Some logical, pragmatic reason Simon was behaving the way he was. Was he really just trying to figure out who Bobby was, like he’d said the first time they’d met?
But why? Why care about the “truth” of a man who was practically already dead?
He wondered if Simon had even considered how much more difficult the truth would make his job. If he knew Fulbright was actually innocent.
The prosecutor sniggered hollowly, leaning back so that his head would touch the cold brick wall. If Metis was still alive, she’d probably make some comment on the irony of the situation.
Metis…Right. He didn’t think about her much these days.
It was hard to think about the woman he’d apparently killed. It felt unjust, in some way. Like him even perceiving her was defiling her legacy. Much less to say about the fact he missed her.
He missed a lot of about his old life. He rarely allowed himself to feel it, it would only make his death harder to stomach after all, but he did. He missed the comfortability of the space station, how homely it felt compared to the dull walls of the prison. He missed studying psychology, with Metis as his mentor. He missed his back and forth’s with Aura, even if they usually culminated in her calling him an uneducated idiot.
He wondered how Aura was doing. She’d visited occasionally in the first few years, none all too pleasant. Mostly questioning, like he hadn’t had enough of that. Not that he was in any position to blame her, with how obvious her grief was.
By her last visit, she’d looked more conflicted than he’d ever saw her. Thats how Aura Blackquill was, though, perceptive as she was stubborn.
Wait—
Aura Blackquill?
Blackquill?
Was that why he—
The doors to his cell opened abruptly, his head snapping up to meet the sound. A guard stared back at him, eyeing him curiously. Fulbright forced his body to relax, his usual grin returning.
“Is it lunchtime already? I must have not noticed!” He started with a chuckle. The guard shifted on their feet nervously. So, not lunch, Fulbright thought. His curiosity peaked, though he tried not to show it on his face.
“Uh, well,” The guard cleared their throat, placing their hands behind their back. “Detective Simon Blackquill has requested to meet with you.”
A beat or silence rang between the two.
“Is this for a last minute case…?” Bobby questioned, raising a brow.
“No sir.” The guard stated, their exasperated tone suggesting they’d asked the same question themselves. “I’m supposed to escort you to him, so…”
Rather unprofessional language, Fulbright thought, but this request seemed like it was as impromptu to them as it was him. He stood up, his chains rattling like a bad omen, and followed the guard out of the cell.
The walk forced him to snap out of his semi-dissociative spiral, which was likely for the best. His mind wasn’t always the best place to be, especially with the path it was on. Checking his surroundings, he could tell they were heading towards the entrance of the facility, which was odd. Every new detail about this confused him more, and he started to feel like a kid being checked out from lunch because of a doctor’s appointment.
The guard stopped at the entrance doors, where Detective Blackquill stood, his crossed arms paired with a blank expression on his face. The look served to intimidate the guard further, but Fulbright would be lying if he said it didn’t simply interest him more. Fulbright smiled slightly, yet Simons look did not waver.
“I’ve delivered you Prosecutor Fulbright, sir!” The guard said, to which Simon nodded. “And I thank you from that.” He waved his hand dismissively, “You may leave now.”
The guard hesitated, their gaze darting between the prosecutor and the detective, as if weighing their options. Fulbright gave a faux oblivious grin, if just to mess with the guy.
Blackquills face twisted into a look of annoyance, his voice lowering until it became something resembling a snarl. “Did I stutter? Leave before I strike you with my blade.”
The guard barely suppressed a scared ‘eep!’ before scurrying away, clearly prioritizing their well-being over their duties. Fulbright chuckled under his breath at the sight, stopping when he heard Blackquill click his tongue in front of him.
“Another actual laugh, are you handing them out like candy now, Prosecutor Fulbright?” Blackquill taunted, spinning his quill pen in his hands.
“Maybe youre just lucky?” Fulbright shrugged his shoulders playfully, faking bashfulness. “Either way, I doubt you called me out of my cell just to hear me laugh. You may be eccentric, but even that would be a lot for you, detective!”
Blackquill snickered, placing his quill pen behind his ear. He pulled out a key set from his back pocket, dangling it in front of Fulbright.
“I can trust you’ve had good behavior during your stay, correct Fool Bright?” Blackquill questioned with an amused smirk.
“Of course sir! Any other behavior would be greatly unjust!” Fulbright boomed. He attempted to salute, hindered from his shackles.
“Good.” The detective responded, satisfied. “It’ll make coming up with an excuse for this significantly easier.”
Then, to Bobby’s shock, with a click of a key Blackquill released him from his cuffs.
Bobby blinked, for once in all these years, stunned into silence. Far too confused to even try to come up with a snarky response, he looked up at Blackquill, the words “What are you doing.” tumbling out of his mouth before he could filter them.
Simon laughed, and Fulbright could almost hear the familiar bench slapping he would usually hear along side it. “You truly are such a dull creature, aren’t you Fool Bright? Should it not be obvious? We’ll be having a bit of an excursion today.”
“But—“ Fulbright sputtered, although he was hardly the tyoe to trip over his words. “Detective Blackquill, this is insane! This cannot be legal, let alone moral or just in any sense of the word! I’m a—“
“Don’t be confused, Fool Bright.” Simon drawled, as if Bobby was irrational for being shocked by the current turn of events. “You’ll still be on as short of a leash as ever, the only difference lies in the lack of metal around your wrists at the moment.”
Fulbright made a noise resembling a laugh, though it really was more of an incredulous huff. “Aren’t samurai’s meant to be about honor? For a samurai, you’re surprisingly willing to break the rules.”
Blackquill shrugged half heartedly. “And for a murderer, you’re oddly concerned about the law.”
Fulbright didn’t have much to say in response to that, so he said nothing.
┈┈・ ✦ ・┈┈
“So, where will you be taking me?” Fulbright asked, sitting in the backseat of Blackquills car.
“Whet Noodles,” Simon answers, “This is non-negotiable, so unless you have some secret allergy not stated in your files, I’d hope you’re not picky.”
Fulbright shook his head and chuckled, gazing out of the car window. “Don’t fret, Detective Blackquill. If I was ever a picky eater, prison has long gotten rid of that.”
Simon looked back, only for a moment. “You’re considerably less energetic today, Fool Bright.”
“I’ve been broken out of jail by a detective who likely got vague permission for this through intimidation. I hate to say it, but I am a bit torn on how to feel on this, Detective Blackquill.” Fulbright said bluntly, a hint of humor to his voice. Simon snickered, though it was more understanding than mocking. A rare feat for Simon, Fulbright noted.
He chose not to bring up that apart of why he was torn was because he was grateful. That even if this was terribly unjust, he was relieved to be out of his cell and out into the world. To feel the sun on his skin, to not have metal weighing down his wrists at every second. It was selfish, he knew that, and Detective Blackquill was clearly off his rockers to be doing this, but…
Despite himself, he didn’t hate it.
┈┈・ ✦ ・┈┈
The two men stepped out of Simons parked car, the detectives’ eyes set on the rather large noodle stand in full view. Only a few patrons were present at the stand, which Fulbright silently hoped would keep him away from the usual glares of the public. The stand read ‘WHET NOODLES’ in big bold letters, an establishment Fulbright had only occasional passed by in the past, though he’d never ordered from them.
“I didn’t peg you as a noodle enjoyer, Detective Blackquill!” Fulbright chirped, hands on his hips. “Then again, I didn’t think you enjoyed much of anything, ha!”
Simon rolled his eyes, arms crossed. “I’ve been a customer at this establishment for longer than you’ve been in the clink, Fool Bright.” He deadpanned. Fulbright wasn’t sure if he was exaggerating for effect, but he was oddly serious about this, of all things, so he didn’t pry.
The two sat in the stand seats, and Blackquill immediately rang the small bell on the counter. The sound of roller skates zipping across the ground whirred in Bobby’s ears, before a visibly-intoxicated man rolled into view, his pompadour-like haircut being the first thing Bobby noticed.
“Bucky Whet, at y’er service sirs…!” The man slurred.
“It’s nice to see you again, Bucky.” Blackquill said, an unexpected warmth in his voice. It didn’t take a rocket scientist for Fulbright to understand that Simon clearly knew whoever this Whet guy was, enough for his icy demeanor to melt just slightly.
“Oh, hey Simey…!” Bucky said, a lazy grin spreading on his face. “Hey, who’s y’er friend here…? Haven’t seen ‘im around b’fore…”
“Prosecutor Bobby Fulbright. An ally in law, you could say.” Simon answered simply.
Fulbright prepared for disgust to show on Buckys face, but it never did. Selfishly, even though he’d willingly taken the fall for the murder of Metis Cykes, it was a relief to go somewhere where people didn’t know who he was.
“Oh geezsh, y’keep bringin’ these fancy shmancy lawyer types ‘round here, I’m g’na get in trouble cuz’a that one way or another…” Bucky whined. “You’d defend me, wouldn’t y’Simey?”
Blackquill snickered, “I’m a detective, Bucky. Or were you too drunk to remember that as well?”
“It’sh all th’same…” Bucky murmured, and Fulbright couldn’t help himself from smiling because, it definitely was not all the same.
“So, what kinda soba y’two want…?”
Bobby ended up ordering the gochujang soba. He was a bit sure that ordering a spicy flavor of a food he’d never eaten wasn’t the best idea, but he couldn’t help it. Prison food was all such samey mush he’d long became indifferent to, that the idea that eating something with even the littlest bit of spice in it was too enticing to miss up on.
Simon had ordered himself kake soba, which Bucky noted was his usual. It only took about 3 times of Simon scolding Bobby on how to hold his chopsticks correctly for him to get the hang of it, to which the detective had made a snide comment about teaching old dogs new tricks.
The excursion as Blackquill put it was going fine. Well, actually. It was a bit surreal for Fulbright, to be able to just exist in the world like this once more. Not as the disgraced lawyer and murderer he was known for, but just as Bobby Fulbright. Hanging out with a man he would dare to call a friend.
Still, the reality of the situation hadn’t escaped him completely. He’d still made the revelation that Simon was certainly the brother to Aura, but what did that mean for their predicament? How had that shaped Detective Blackquills view of Fulbright?
What was even going through Simons head right now?
“Fool Bright.” Simon called, snapping the prosecutor out of his thoughts. Again. Simon was good at doing that, huh?
“Ah— yes, Detective Blackquill?” Fulbright stumbled over his words, offering a nervous smile. Simon pointed to the prosecutors shirt, and when Fulbright looked down, he could clearly see some of the soba broth splattered on the cloth.
Fulbright cursed internally— he really liked this shirt, and the prison washing machines were so dingy that the stain would certainly stay.
“It seems you can’t help but stumble through everything you do.” Simon tutted, smirking. “What am I to do with you?”
Fulbright smiled back, reaching for some paper towels. “Call me a fool again, just for good measure?” He joked, wiping the towels on his now ruined top.
“Don’t do that, you imbecile, you’ll only rub the broth further into the material!” Simon snatched the parchments away. He balled up the paper towels, a look of slight, if not playful annoyance on his face. “I suppose I’ll have to buy you a new shirt, hm? After I’ve already footed the bill for this soba, are you attempting to bleed me dry Fool Bright? A detectives salary isn’t all too high, you know.”
Bobby froze for a second, his smile wavering just a bit. Simon, by all means, had no reason to buy Fulbright a new shirt. Sure, Fulbright would consider them friends, the samurai had been the closest thing Fulbright had to a true friend since the events of UR-1, though he’d never been sure if Blackquill had returned those positive feelings.
But even if Blackquill considered them friends, Fulbright was still a murderer in the eyes of the law. Even if Aura had been suspicious, for all Simon knew, Bobby Fulbright had murdered a woman in cold blood. He’d killed a child’s mother. He’d killed his sister’s girlfriend. There was no way Simon didn’t know so why—
Why was he being so kind to him today?
Bobby briefly considered putting on his usual mask. Maybe saying that Simon really shouldn’t, faux bashful. Or that a little stain would never get in the way of Justice. Anything to stay in character, but he couldn’t, not now.
“Why are you doing all of this for me, Detective Blackquill?” He asked, expression so blank he reckoned he likely looked about dead.
Simon didn’t respond for a short moment, before lifting his chopsticks and biting into some more soba. “Hmn?” He hummed between bites, so casually it felt a little forced.
“Simon,” He said, keeping his voice low. “I don’t know if you remember, but I am a murderer. I killed someone, Detective Blackquill. And you’re taking me out for noodles, doing all these favors for me that I never even asked for—“
“Do you not want the favors?”
“No it isn’t—“ Fulbright breathed in, “I just don’t understand why you’re doing all this. I know you wanted to see what was under my mask, as you put it. But all this, when you know what I’ve done…”
Simon stared back at him, his face clearly hiding inner conflict. His eyebrow twitched, his eyes snapping away from Bobby’s intense gaze. Fulbright was one second away from begging him to just say something, before Simon began to speak.
“As a parole officer, I have had many prisoners to look over in my career. Many murderers, like you claim to be,” The wording made something sickening settle in Fulbrights core, but he didn’t interrupt him. “But for every killer I have met, even the remorseful ones…They have not been like you. You’re like a puzzle I cannot figure out, Fool Bright, irritating and interesting all in one.”
Simon shifted in his seat, still avoiding Fulbrights eyes directly. Fulbright couldn’t help but notice just how gone his eyes seemed, as if the detectives mind was somewhere else entirely. “And you know, Fool Bright, for a murderer, you hide the oddest of things. You don’t contest your guilt, never denied the murder of Metis Cykes, yet you’re so guarded when the topic comes up. You hide your true emotions under the guise of being a happy-go-lucky-idiot. And well, maybe you truly are an idiot, but…”
Simon looked Fulbright in the eyes, his gaze sharp. “It’s a simple fact you learn as a detective. If people are lying, it’s usually to hide something. But you have no reason to hide anything, do you? You’re a killer. You’re on death row. And yet you lie anyway.” His gaze softened, and it only made Bobby feel worse. “It’s weird, isn’t it? It makes no sense. Unless,”
Bobby didn’t want Simon to finish that sentence. He really, really didn’t want Simon to finish that sentence. But he did.
“Unless you aren’t the true killer. Unless this is all some front, and likely, a way to protect someone else.” Simon deduced. Correctly. Because of course he had. “In the name of whatever sense of Justice you never stop preaching, I’m sure.” He added.
It was only when Simon stopped speaking did Bobby realize that somewhere in the middle of his speech, he’d stopped breathing. He breathed in, though the mounting pressure on his chest never left. A mix of emotions swirled through his head, so much so he was sure Athena’s mood matrix would have broken right then and there if she were here to analyze him. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.
He was well and truly cornered, wasn’t he?
He’d been cornered many a time in court, usually by Apollo, Athena, or both. A terrifying duo they were, he’d noted once or twice, their proficiencies as lawyers obvious. But this was different than in court, where he could find loopholes, or explanations, or anything to make the judge swing in his favor once more.
What could he even say? Admit it all now? Admit that he’d been lying all this time, and had let the real killer get away?
But she couldn’t be the real killer, she’d only been a child, she couldn’t have had any idea. But what he saw, what she’d said—
Or lie more? Say Simon had made all this up in his head, that his detective skills had clearly gone too far, all with a dismissive laugh.
He wasn’t sure why, but it felt too cruel to do so.
Whatever it was, he had to come up with it now. This entire time, Fulbrights been staring near emotionlessly at the detective, even with the fact he was internally bordering on what felt like a panic attack.
He has to say something. Anything. He has to, he has to, he has to—
Fulbright gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, tilting his head just slightly. “Do you really think this is the best place to be having this talk, Detective Blackquill? Even if we try not to draw attention…”
Simon stilled. He looked around, and though no attention was on the two, Fulbright was undoubtedly right. This wasn’t the place. But it’s not like he had a lot of time to go with it.
“Fine.” He replied, standing up. He slapped some cash on the counter, enough for the bill, Fulbright assumed, and stared at Fulbright intently as he stood up.
Fulbright stood as well, and he wished his legs didn’t feel like jelly. He could only hope his face didn’t show it, though he’d gotten used to looking calm in times of panic.
He bought some time, and that was it. Barely that, if Simon began questioning him in the car.
Maybe he could wait all this out. His execution wasn’t long from now, it would be soon. Maybe if he—
“But mark my words, Fool Bright.” Simon threatened, voice low. Fulbright flinched just slightly. “I’ll get the truth out of you. I swear to you that.”
Fulbright didn’t respond.
Maybe he couldn’t.