"Marcy?" Finn called aloud as he entered his friend's cave. "You there?" Silence, not so much as a grunt of acknowledgement, the house seemed devoid of life, no light was on inside it even though it was late afternoon. There was a feeling in the back of his head. Something was wrong, though Marceline was supposed to be awake by now, the sun had set and darkness was falling upon the land of Ooo, she wasn't. Nothing stirred in the house at all.
He approached her old style house, drawing his sword. "Marcy?" He called out again. Nothing. He approached her house and gave a knock on the wooden door. The knock echoed in the cave, and yet it was a loud, frantic knock, nothing came to answer it.
The door was unlocked thankfully, and he pushed inside. Nothing was in the living room and so he turned on the light, looking behind the couches. It was probably nothing. He thought, she probably just had a late night and was sleeping in.
But something contradicted that feeling, the sense of doom overhead. Not so much doom though, instead a sense of extreme despair that nothing could match. It felt thick in the air, almost hard enough to cut. Something bad had happened or was happening.
Then he entered the kitchen and dropped his sword as he saw the black ichor on the floor leading from the sink to the pantry. "Marceline!" He cried, running to the pantry and swinging the door open, finding a paler then usual Marceline in a fetal position. He could tell instantly the wound was self-inflicted, who couldn't? The wound was too neatly cut. And for a moment, he stood there. Just paralyzed at never seeing anyone have done this before.
"Oh damn it Marcy what in Glob's name did you do!" He cried and with a great strength he rarely found other than in life or death situations, he raised Marceline into his arms. She was not fat, she was actually skin, but her size was the thing that contributed to her weight.
He walked to the couch as fast he could with the Vampire queen in his arms. Setting her down easily on the rock hard couch, and put two fingers over her nose, she was breathing thank Glob. Then the panic set in the, he had no idea in hell what to do!
Finn stood, nervously, rubbing his temples and walking circles around his dying friend. "Why Marcy! Why?!" He cried out, nearly in tears because of the shock and the sheer fear that had consumed his heart.
Not knowing what to do, he climbed the ladder up to her bedroom and trashed the room. Throwing panties, shirts, jeans, everything as he tried to find her sewing kit, in tears now, thinking what might happen if he couldn't find it. And when he couldn't he punched a large hole into her wall and flipped over one her dressers in rage and sadness. It hit the floor and it felt like the whole house shook on its foundations.
She was dying, slowly and painfully, in a blood depleted sleep and unless Finn did something she would never awake from the sleep. He banged his head against the plaster walls of her room. "Think Finn damn it!" He repeated over and over again in a hushed whisper.
Then, remembering something Jake had taught him long ago when he had been harmed greatly, he jumped down the hole in the far end of the room. He had thought, in a stupid rage, that there was no time to use the ladder. He instantly regretting it as a spike of pain hit his ankle. The pain was extraordinary, and the only thing that kept him from passing out was the thought of Marceline passing away.
He knew he couldn't hold back the pain forever and sooner or later it would take him into unconsciousness, but he had to work quickly if he wanted to save his friend. Moving to the kitchen he grabbed a knife from the wooden holder and limped over to her gas powered stove and flicked it on, holding the blade over it.
That was the part, looking back on it, he feared most, it took him several minutes to heat the blade and he felt light headed from the pain, he thought he might've broken his ankle. Swaying back in forth, he felt like sleeping, just giving up on his friend and falling asleep. Half way through he just thought, his body and mind weak from the pain. She had wanted to die right? Why not leave her to her wishes and let her die.
His eyes shot open and so did his mouth, how the hell could he be thinking these thoughts, she may want to die but damn it he would travel through hell and swim through high water before he left her pass on. He knew there was truly only one way from passing out, the only option he had at the moment. Finn needed something that could jolt him awake and get his adrenaline pumping.
He lay the flat of the blade again his elbow and cried out, fully awake in this searing pain. Limping as fast as he could he reached Marceline, she looked much worse. If he hadn't reached her when he did Finn was sure she would've passed on into the unknown. Luck was a strange thing, Jake had told him. But that day he thanked Glob for it being on his side.
Picking up her wrist without hesitation he lay the flat of the searing hot blade against the open wound, cauterizing it and making Marceline scream in pain. She jolted awake from her sleep and scratched Finn on the face, her nails sinking deep into the flesh of his cheek. She was struggling her hardest not to be saved and began crying again, begging Finn to stop.
Finally the pain faded as he lowered the blade and used it to cut open his own wrist. Very lightly though, not nearly as deep she had done hers thankfully, else they might've both died that day. He pushed his wound to her face, she moved her head away so the blood didn't get in her mouth.
He slapped her with all his might in a one back hand movement and then screamed at one of his best friends. "Glob damn it, drink Marceline!" Her ears were ringing and a large red mark was on her face. She had been dreary and dazed, but now she only felt worse, her eyes seeming not under her control.
Finn gripped her jaw so she couldn't move away and pushed his wrist against her mouth. It seemed like forever she didn't drink from his wound, it was acting like a crimson well of life that could breathe precious life back into her poor pale body. She didn't want to drink the red thick liquid, and fought for as long as she could, crying and wanting to die, but eventually, she gave in. Sucking on the blood like a babe at its mother's tit.
