Be OK
Marshall Lee drops the photo album to the floor.
It joins the pile of others he's already flipped through. The albums are all stuffed with photographs – all from sporadic Polaroid phases and early childhood. Marshall Lee reaches for the last album, thumbs over the first few decades of his vampire life, and retraces time to pre-Apocalyptic years.
"Bingo."
He holds up the picture and lets the album fall. So he did have that bowl cut at age seven. Marshall Lee does not go through his (poorly) documented life often; too much reminiscing makes for decreased sentimental value. But now he looks at the photograph of himself and his parents. If he's ever been blissfully ignorant of being doomed for vampire-hood, then it is during this one brief period in life.
Marshall Lee turns around and nearly flies into a small body.
"Mothaf—" He hasn't felt this jolt of surprise in ages. "Whoa. Didn't see you there…" Marshall Lee the Vampire King, startled by a little girl.
She stares up at him, hugging Hambo.
You're lucky you're seven. Marshall Lee's fingers are itching to grab the toy.
"You okay?" He circles around her. No bruises, at least none visible when he dumped her into the bubble bath ten hours ago. She's small, thin as a bird; the small plaid shirt he dressed her in reaches her ankles. "So how'd you get on a raft, anyway?" Glob, she has a cowlick. Right where his would be, if his reflection appeared in a mirror. Marshall Lee pats the girl's bed hair down, to little effect. She's quiet. "C'mon, am I speaking in tongues here?"
"Mister," she has a slight lisp. "I'm hungry…"
Marshall Lee is a little disappointed that they won't need to communicate via charades after all. He's good at that.
"Me too," Marshall Lee grins and displays sharp teeth. "Think I'll eat ya?"
Her stomach roars louder than a 50-watt amp.
"Right, food. People eat food," He hasn't thought about eating to survive for a long time.
"So… do you like apples?"
Five minutes, tomato juice, and three apples at the dinner table later, Marshall Lee still doesn't know who this ragamuffin girl is.
"I'm Marshall Lee," he says casually. "What's your name?"
"I'm Marceline," says she. He thinks it suits her; there's some kind of vibe going on there.
"Where you from, Marceline?"
"Ooo."
Marshall Lee has never heard of it.
"Who?"
"Ooo."
Her voice is lyrical, even with a sound made by people with the trots.
"Welcome to Aaa." Marshall Lee is entertained by how she has to hold the glass with both small hands to drink. How easy it would be to break his fast and just eat a human for once. He nods to the teddy bear, which she'd put on its own chair. "You too…"
"He's Hambo," Marceline says. Marshall Lee stares at it. Maybe Hambo is a brand name.
"Where'd you get him?" He'd rather ask where her parents are, so he can ship her off at the nearest post office. Actually, he might even carry her back himself, just to see what this Ooo is like.
"Simon gave him to me."
"Is that like, your dad or something?" She shakes her head. "Little girl, where your parents at?"
Marceline exhales, and for some reason the sigh makes Marshall Lee want to give her candy or whatever makes children happy these days.
"They're gone. Everyone's gone. It's just me and Simon."
"Did Simon put you and Hambo on the raft?" She nods. "That shi- is cray. Why?"
"He said I'd be safe here," Marceline chews on another apple. "Simon says the war isn't over yet, but he'll come get me when Ooo is better."
Marshall Lee whistles. "Still. What kinda dude sends a girl out on a raft alone…"
"I wathn't alone," her cheek is full, like a chipmunk. She's likely just as weak as one. "I had Hambo."
"Well, when is Simon coming for you?" Marshall Lee asks.
Marceline hasn't looked sad before, but she looks sad now.
"I dunno."
Marshall Lee senses waterworks coming and feels the impulse to peace out. He flies over to her side, though. He holds his hands up uselessly; crying females are his undoing. Marceline looks defiant, but he knows that she's simply making herself believe that placating nonsense adults say. "But he's gonna. He's really gonna."
"He will, kid," Marshall Lee pats her head lamely, but he thinks Simon will have to survive this war in Ooo-over-the-ocean first, and wars are hard. He knows himself.
The apple lies forgotten on her plate. He's hit a sentimental bull's-eye. Tears are shining and they're dripping down her small face and oh Glob he's not good with crying children or crying anyone, really.
"Don't cry don't cry don't cry," he requests, and she squeezes her eyes shut but the drops still free-fall and her mouth trembles. He hasn't felt this sorry for anything in years.
Pathetic.
"C'mere," Marceline doesn't move when he slides her off the chair and into his lap. Marshall Lee hands Hambo to her. "I guess if you got to..."
She takes the bear and burrows into his chest, and for the second time today Marshall Lee doesn't mind that his shirt is getting soaked with salt water and additional snot. He rocks the small body in his arms. Marshall Lee has been held as a child; it works wonders when your world has just had the shit bombed out of it. So he hums, over and over, with
"Don't worry
About a thing
'Coz every little thing
is gonna be alright."
He's not sure why he's throwing in a Caribbean accent for extra song-potency.
Eventually, Marceline cries herself to sleep.
Marshall Lee is old enough to know touch comforts women, but this is completely different. He floats off the tile floor (his ass hurts, but it can't be worse than whatever she's feeling) and flies up to his room, where he put her in the first place. The rest of the house is full of bachelor junk.
Marshall Lee tucks her under his covers. Maybe he sympathizes with Marceline so much because she reminds him of himself.
But what do I do with you? he scratches his head.
He throws one more glance behind him as he turns off the lights. He supposes he can think about it when he tosses around on the couch.
"You're lucky you're seven…"
A/N: Thanks for reviews! They motivate :]
Disclaimer: Adventure Time is Pen Ward's brainchild.
