Chapter 2: Eviction In Reverse

The next morning

Jake frowned as Finn pulled up a chair at the table, staring at his pineapple waffles with disinterest, which was odd, because usually the boy was all about his pineapples and all about his waffles. Mulling over Marceline's declaration had taken up the rest of their prior night, actually pushing them past their usual bedtime. Sadly, they had come to no real conclusion as to why she had reacted the way she had, and while the turn of events had led Jake to sleep uneasily, Finn's baggy eyes and slow gait indicated greater exhaustion.

"Hey buddy. Rough night?" The dog asked tentatively, still wracked with guilt over the situation. How could he not be? He should have left well enough alone.

Finn heaved a sigh, sticking a slice of waffle in his mouth and chewing morosely. After swallowing, he gave a shrug and replied, "I don't know bro. I'm just down about it." Sensing the dog's furthering self-contempt, he frowned as well. "Jake, it wasn't your fault man."

"…I know, but—" Jake started to reply, before Finn smacked his hand on the table.

"No, bro," Finn interrupted, his eyes gleaming with righteousness as they did when he became impassioned. "You were trying to look out for me, and it wasn't like you had been planning on talking to her. It was just spur of the moment, and it's clear neither of us thought she would take it like that." Jake's eyes sparkled with love for his best friend, and he sniffled a bit before the sadness crept in again; not through guilt, but sadness all the same.

"I know, man. I just feel terrible," Jake replied, lowering his jowls to the table, his hunger nowhere to be found. "You and Marceline are good buds, and even though she likes scaring the guts out of my body she's a cool gal. I just wish we could talk to her about it." Before he could slouch back down and mope, Jake caught a glint in Finn's eye, and sighed. He knew where this was going.

"I'm going to see her," The hero stated with determination, nodding his head as Jake sighed yet again. "I can make her talk, I know I can. She needs someone to be there for her, and I refuse to watch someone I care about push me away when they need help. Nothing math about that."

"I figured you would go to see her regardless of what happened," Jake said, shaking his head at his friend's courageous nature. "You and your boom boom determination."

Finn blushed at the term, and shook his head. "One, don't call it that. NEVER call it that," The boy replied, the memory of that day already painful enough. "And two, I think this should be a solo mission."

Jake opened his mouth to object, but then thought better of it, as it made sense that Marceline would be more receptive to Finn, and it would be a lot less awkward if the dog wasn't there. "Deal, as much as I don't like it. At least let me carry you there though."

"Totally dude. I need all my energy for some vampire vamping," Finn replied with a smile and thumbs up, only to elicit a groan from Jake.

"Okay, even if that did mean what you thought it did, and it doesn't, it would still have been weak," The dog chided. "Speaking of weak, that's what our plan is right now. There is a good chance she's going to run away, and if she does, we need to be able to find her."

"Hmm… fair point my fine fellow…" Finn ruminated, stroking his bald chin. "Actually, since it's light out, if we got her sunhat, we could trap her!"

"Yeah, now you're using your brain Finny!" Jake shouted, becoming more convinced they had a shot to make this work by the minute. "And if she does escape, just bring me something from her house for me to sniff. She can't haul everything in there off with her."

"Dude! Radical!" Finn shouted, jumping in the air and clicking his heels together. "Though I don't know how Lady would feel if I told her you were interested in sniffing another woman's clothing." Finn grinned at his teasing, as he usually was the one on the receiving end.

Jake simply scoffed, shaking his head as he began to scarf down the rest of his breakfast. Finn giggled and then followed, and within a minute they were content with the pineapple mingling in their food cavities.

Without much more ado, they headed to the door, but just before they opened it, Jake turned around and shouted, "Hey, BMO!"

The robot, having been enjoying itself playing with a ball of yarn in the corner of the room, looked up. "Yes, Jake?"

"What's your greatness weakness?" Jake asked, and BMO frowned.

"Rhubarb, why?" Their friend answered, slightly put off by the bizarre request.

"Just wondering in case someday I need to take you out," Jake replied, making dagger eyes at the robot and then turning to the door, ignoring the gasps on Finn and BMO's faces for a few moments before rolling his eyes. "What? You never know man. I've been keeping tabs on everybody ever since we found out the Lich can possess people."

"Oh. That's actually pretty smart," Finn replied, biting his lip. "What's my greatest weakness?"

"Romantic encounters, but at this point if I needed to take you out I'd just show Flame Princess your lock of Bubblegum's hair and she'd toast you in a second," Jake said with a satisfying snap, before pausing. "Actually, that might fall under romantic encounters too. Either way."

"…Ignoring my annoyance at your response, what made you think of asking BMO right now?" Finn questioned, and Jake shrugged.

"I figure there's no casual way to bring it up, so I just do it whenever I think of it. Plus, I've got puppies on the brain most of the time, so I rarely think of other junk anymore." The dog smiled dreamily for a moment, and then shook himself out of it.

"Well, that's that I guess," Finn replied, walking out door with Jake. "See you BMO! Have fun with your string! We'll make sure not to pick up any dumb rhubarb while we're out!"

As he shut the door, BMO shook its head. "Silly Finn and Jake," The robot said with a giggle. "I annihilated all the rhubarb a long time ago with fire and plague. Meow!" BMO batted at the string once more.

Of course Marceline had slept late. Why wouldn't she have? It wasn't as if anything ever, Glob forbid, went her way. After quickly throwing on the sun-repellant outfit she had lied out the night before – a gray and black horizontal-striped button-down shirt, tight blue jeans, black leather gloves and her hat (of course), with a emergency umbrella slung on her back for good measure — she had begun to zoom around her house at extreme speeds, and currently was at the tail-end of packing. Which was by no means anywhere near the easiest part.

Marceline grumbled as she tried to fit another piece of clothing in the monstrosity of a bag sitting in front of her. Everything that wasn't fragile was being poured, slammed, pushed, and prodded into said large duffel bag, which looked desperately close to bursting. Everything that was fragile was being delicately wrapped in bubble-wrap, by far one of Marceline's favorite inventions (whenever she popped a bubble it made her incredibly amused, and as such she had already wasted half of it trying to raise her spirits), and then placed in a more plush bag.

She figured the various curses she had on the house to protect it from undesirables would hold for awhile if need be, and as such was content with leaving most of her items. Most of them didn't mean much to her anyway. Schwabl wasn't exactly a travel pet either, even if he was incredibly resilient, so as sad as it made her Marceline had decided to leave him too, with plenty of "Tastes Just Like Brains!" zombie-poodle food in the kitchen for when he got hungry.

Marceline tossed a basketball into the bag before frowning. "Nah, I ain't got game," She muttered to herself, tossing it behind her and wincing as the window shattered. She was wicked stressed from trying to balance how long she had until Finn tried to talk to her, packing, and where the hell she was even going in her mind.

She had even considered ripping open a portal to the Nightosphere; certainly would have been the most convenient option, minus the fact that her father was the LAST person she wanted to see right now. And of course, she was very in the mood to cut out some of her inner-angst with her bass that sat in the corner, beckoning. It was all too much.

As was trying to zip up the damned duffle bag, which took her ten more minutes of tugging even with Vampire-super-strength. She wiped some sweat from her forehead and turned towards the other bag. It was mostly filled as well, and she had very little bubble-wrap left. With a shrug, she went to seal it before a sudden thought struck her.

Marceline floated up through the ladder into her room, lowering herself to her nightstand and opening it. She clawed through it vigorously, one item on her mind, but many flying out that she had forgot even existed. In particular, her sullen face found a small smile when she pulled out the… what had Bonnibel called it when she had given it to her? "Black rubber hot dog?"

"I've heard these are often given amongst couples, but am not quite sure why, or what the exact name is. I figured you would know what it is and what to use it for, though!" The Princess had stated with the most brazen ignorance possible.

Marceline's back arched as she began laughing just as hard as she had that day, and with a shake of her head she placed the object in her jean's pocket. These were going to be some lonely nights, after all.

That thought brought her high back down, and it was further crushed when she found what she had been looking for in the first place.

"Hey, Mom," She whispered softly, staring at the picture frame grasped in her hands, just able to make out her reflection in the glass.

A young woman with raven-black hair that swept down to the floor and blue eyes aged beyond her years stared back, a feeble smile etched upon her face. Hard to smile when you knew the world was coming to an end, apparently. Marceline faced the portrait away, before the tears could come, missing the warmth of her mother's pale skin regardless of the centuries that had passed since it last graced her own.

With a sniffle, she reached into the frame and nearly pulled the picture out to carry with her, before a booming knock on the door startled her. The frame dropped out of her hands, but she caught it just in time, placing it back in the drawer, before realizing what that knock signified; she was out of time.

Racing downstairs to already find Finn having let himself in through the broken window, Marceline halted at his presence. Finn frowned, disheartened to see that Marceline had been planning on leaving regardless of whether or not he attempted to speak with her. Raising his hands in peace, the hero said, "Marceline, please, can we just — wait, why is there a burnt hot-dog in your pocket?"

"I told you NOT to come," Marceline hissed, narrowing her eyes and taking mark of the two items she had to take with her: her bass and her hat. "There's nothing to discuss Finn, I… I need to leave. To get out."

"No, not until we talk," Finn replied resolute, grimacing as he noticed her umbrella. So much for going for her hat. "Jake feels horrible about what happened, and we both want to help."

"THAT'S THE PROBLEM YOU IDIOT!" Marceline screamed, holding her hand out and summoning her bass into her hands as her hat landed on her head. The pain on his face from her outburst made her wince herself, and she softened her tone. "You can't help me, Finn!" She bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood. Pity there was none left. "And you, out of all people, can't understand that. That's why I have to go. Get out of my way… I don't want this to end badly."

"It already is ending badly Marceline!" Finn replied, punching his face in frustration. "You're not making any sense. I know I'm an idiot with personal stuff, but please!"

Marceline shook her head. "It has nothing to do with that. You're the closest anyone's ever gotten, and that's why I've got to go. How many times have I almost led you to your death…?"

"I'm ten times more afraid of you leaving than me dying!" Finn shouted (stupidly) in return, finally risking moving forward. "And I'm horrible at multiplication!" Marceline lowered into a defensive stance as Finn continued to move forward. She wasn't going to get through to him, and had to get over him. Both figuratively, and literally.

At his next step, Marceline flipped over the human, landing gracefully and sprinting towards the window, leaping out of that as well. The moment she darted out of Finn's sight, she turned invisible, and began flying as fast as she could. Of course, if the hero was fast enough, he might be able to glance up and see her bass floating in the air, but it wasn't like she had many options.

That was indeed what happened as she glanced behind her, a small blip in her vision streaking on her path and screaming, "MARCELINE!" at the top of its lungs. It broke her heart, but she could not stop. It was for his own good.

Despite the fact she was flying at a breakneck speed, it was at least ten minutes before the shouts of her name died in the air. Marceline had been through a lot of pain in her life, but had a sickening notion that those ten minutes would linger as one of her worst memories.

She felt sick, depraved, and disgusting. And the worst, most bitter and terrible thing was that it would happen again. She would lose her strength, and find someone who was kind, who would start to ask questions, who would want to…

Marceline couldn't take it, glancing around for the closest thing she could find to shelter and flying into a small cave. Gently propping up her bass and removing her sunhat and umbrella, she curled into a small ball, cursing the world. Cursing Finn for being so damn noble. And most of all, cursing herself. With nowhere to go, and no one to go to, she gripped herself rightly and soaked in her sadness.

Miles away, Finn collapsed into the dirt, his heart beating at a rate he didn't know was possible, his entire body oiled with its own sweat. His lungs ached from lack of hydration, but that did not stop him from muttering "Marceline" as his eyes blinked once more before shutting.

To the east, the sound of steel slicing the air sounded; if the boy had been awake, he would have seen waves of waves of daggers falling from the sky. Instead, he remained broken on the ground, unaware of the cold, hard danger rapidly approaching.

I'll be up-front, I am a butt when it comes to updates. I gave up on controlling my muse a long time ago, and when it strikes me, it does. But, so far, I am cautiously optimistic at how much work I've gotten done on this fic considering how little time I've had to write.

While this story obviously has a ton of angst, it's still Adventure Time, so I want to inject as much of that bizarreness as I can into it (on that note, I hope someone got as much of a kick out of the dildo scene as I did). The only thing I didn't like about this chapter was parentheses and adverbs.

Oh, and I PROMISE the knife-storm isn't just a cliff-hanger for the sake of hanging off of cliffs. It's still a stupid plot device, but it has a bit more legitimacy than that. Also, I edited some of the horribly moronic errors in the first one. No matter how close you read, there's always one lumping mistake. On a positive note, more characters in the next chapter. Thanks for reading!