AN: Here, have some angst for Thanksgiving. I just so much stuff going on that I really can't do much more then drabbles at the moment. Hopefully that'll change soon, but we'll have to see.
Disclaimer: I do not own Adventure Time. Cartoon Network does.
She noticed everything.
How Jake always flinched when she came through the walls, as if expecting something more than the fairly harmless hiss she always sent his way. How he always curled into a ball under blankets during movie night, his eyes the only thing seeable when he was wrapped up and paying attention. How there was a difference between the smiles he gave his friends and those he gave sarcastically; the former were real, easy to come and hard to go, while the latter never stayed for more than a minute.
She noticed how Lady always pointed her toes when she walked, her heels never touching the ground except when she was offering someone a ride. She noticed how, when she was angry or worried or overly happy, Lady's horn would take on the faintest hint of red or blue or yellow, an indicator of the rainicorn's feelings. And she noticed the wistful glance Lady always sent her boyfriend when the topic of their children came up, and the small smile she always hid it with.
She noticed how Finn would always fiddle with the stem of his flower and, later, where his mechanical arm was fused to his skin, loosening and tightening the screws and bolts whenever he was nervous or bored. She noticed how sometimes he grimaced at the things Jake ate, though only for a moment; he was then always more than willing to give it a try. And she noticed, more than anything, just how lonely the kid was. How he sometimes thought about the parents he had never known, and whether or not he was the last of the (mostly) unmutated humans. And what life would be like had he never been left on that mountain.
And she noticed how the crow's feet deepened around Bubblegum's eyes when she hadn't slept in a long while, just hinting at the eight-hundred years the princess had really lived. How she chewed on the end of her chalk when she was worried, either unaware or uncaring of the bitter, drying powder that coated her tongue. How her smile when she visited the candy children at the school was always tainted with the knowledge that she would outlive them all. She noticed how Bubblegum stressed her words differently when she was tired, and that most of what she babbled in German actually made sense, when taken into context and she cared to translate.
How her eyes went dim when she had to lock away what she was feeling in order to do what was right for her people, even when it hurt her.
Just like they had the first time Bubblegum had asked her to leave. And they had every time after.
Marceline noticed everything, and she memorized it all. Because, as she knew well, her memories were all she'd have left when they were gone.