"Forgive yourself for your faults and your mistakes and move on."

- Les Brown

Three weeks, six days, twenty two hours and forty seven minutes. That's how long it's been since Marshall Lee has seen Fionna.

It's not that he wants to stay away, he tells himself. After all, when you live forever, little things like weeks are meaningless- you forget to pay attention to them. And it's not that he's afraid of what she'll do when she sees him again, not at all. That would be stupid and silly. (Marshall Lee would have one know, vampires are NOT stupid or silly.)

No, it's just that it's about time he explored Aaa again. Yes, that's it. He's not avoiding Fionna in the slightest- she's probably safer with him gone, anyway.

Or so he tells himself.

But inevitably, despite his innermost protests, he finds himself drawn back to her, to the treehouse she claimed as hers so long after he inhabited it. He finds himself worried about her, because she is small and human and fragile. And if he does not check on her soon, he will go insane.

The night is clear, unusually so. A slight breeze ruffles his hair (when did it get so long? Maybe it's time for a new hair style). Most of the lights in the tree-house are out, although it seems the living room is lit. Upon inspection, Marshall finds Cake already asleep in her drawer, BMO tucked in beside her as though being shielded from a nightmare. Fionna, however, is nowhere to be found; he moves on.

The kitchen window is opened ever so slightly, almost like an invitation (but, Marshall Lee thinks to himself, he's probably just imagining that last bit). In looking through the window, he finds no one in the living room- strange, because he knows Cake would never fall asleep with candles lit; that would be dangerous.

Maybe it's because he doesn't want this house, filled with memories for him, to burn down because of a careless mistake; maybe it's because he doesn't want Cake to die, not just yet anyway; and maybe it's because it makes him feel closer to Fionna, being in the house. Marshall Lee doesn't know. But before he can stop himself, he finds himself opening the window ever so quietly, floating over to the candles, and blowing them out.

Just as the last candle flickers out, he hears a woosh and for once, his vampire instincts fail him. Something yelling a battle cry falls on him from above and knocks him to the ground. He quickly finds himself in a headlock that he could easily break out of - if it weren't the person he's trying to avoid tightening their grip on him. "Marshall Lee, where in Aaa have you been?"

He could turn this around, he could easily escape her grip and she knows it. But suddenly, he's too tired to keep running from her. He's too tired of staying away and he's too tired of feeling guilty for everything. So instead of flipping her over and making his escape, he closes his eyes and rests his cheek against the floorboards.

Fionna tightens her grip as though it'll make him talk. "It's been like a month, and I haven't seen you! What the heck, man? I thought we were dating and junk!" Suddenly her grip slackens, and she shifts off of Marshall Lee's back. When he makes no move to bolt, she exhales and continues with a shaky voice. "I was scared you thought I was too much trouble to be around, Marsh. I thought I wasted your time when you had to help me with that demon."

Suddenly, Marshall Lee realises that he has made a very, very big mistake in avoiding Fionna. He finally gets up, sitting cross-legged on the floor. "No no no, that's not what I meant to do at all!" He grasps for the right words but he can't reach them; they are so close but Marshall Lee is not good at expressing his feelings when he isn't strumming his guitar. "I just… I didn't want to hurt you, not again, and I figured that if I was away from you, I couldn't do anything bad, so-"

"Okay look Marshall. I might not be anywhere near as smart as Gumball, but I know that that's not how relationships work. We're supposed to tell each other junk, not deal with it by ourselves!" Fionna says quietly, staring him down.

"Look, I'm sorry. I made a mistake. I'm just not good at this heart to heart thing or whatever you girls call it!" he retorts, half wondering why his pride is hurt and half wondering why he thought coming back was a good idea.

Fionna opens her mouth as if to argue with him, but no words come out. A frustrated look appears her face. After a few seconds she sighs and takes Marshall Lee's hand. "Yeah, I get it. I'm not good at it either."

And then she lays down on the floor, pulling on Marshall's hand so he copies her movement. There are no words, because neither of them are poets, not really. (Marshall Lee's music was not boring old poetry, thank you very much.) Neither of them can weave the words to say what they mean. So instead of fighting and arguing and making up like they would normally do, they sit until Fionna's breath evens out and Marshall carries her upstairs to bed.

They haven't fixed anything, and Marshall Lee is no closer to forgiving himself, but for the first time in four weeks, one hour and sixteen minutes, a part of him feels complete again.

End Note: I apologize for disappearing for so long. School has been hectic. Thank you for sticking with me!

Word Count (including quote): 948

This is part three of three chronological chapters.