"Is Marianne okay?" Dawn gasped into her cell phone, tears threatening to spill onto her perfectly made-up cheeks. Sunny watched her intently, concerned at the sudden phone call that came minutes before Dawn was to go onstage.

"Is she okay?" Sunny whispered anxiously, only to get a "SHHHH!" from Dawn. She was still listening intently.

"Okay," she sighed, the worry still fresh in her eyes, a few seconds later. "I'll fly back tonight. Please tell her I love her…so much…" Dawn ended the call, sniffling and looking at Sunny with her "I'm-about-to-cry" face. "Something happened at Bog's house with Roland…Daddy said he didn't know much, only that she's with the police now and that she's okay." Sunny breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm so glad that she's okay," the man gave Dawn a slight smile, but she looked at him with her tears already spilling steadily down her cheeks. "Hey, girl, come here," Sunny soothed as he pulled his client into a hug, feeling his heart skip a beat as he did so. "Remember what I told you? Don't worry 'bout a thing…cause every little thing–"

"—is gonna be alright," Dawn finished for her friend, sniffling a little bit and pulling away.

"That's right," Sunny smiled softly at her, reaching out a hand to dry her cheeks. "Let's see a smile." Dawn complied, fueled by a feeling of warmth and affection for her manager and best friend. "There's my girl."

"Sunny…" Dawn began, about to tell him how thankful she felt for his kindness and caring spirit. "…I love you." Her eyes widened a bit, surprised to find that this statement was exactly how she felt about the man that had been by her side for so many years.

"What?" Sunny looked confused at first, eyes as round as Dawn's, but the confusion quickly gave way to a hope that was so raw and desperate that Dawn couldn't help it.

"I LOVE YOU!" she shouted, throwing her arms around Sunny and kissing him deeply. Sunny's wide eyes quickly closed in bliss as the moment he had dreamed about for years finally fell upon him. Dawn had dated a lot of men, and had her fair share of first kisses. This kiss blew all of them out of the water. She pulled away, starstruck by the deep emotional connection that comes with being in love with your best friend. Sunny seemed equally as starstruck, gazing into Dawn's warm eyes with such a depth of emotion that it took Dawn's breath away.

"I…I love you too, Dawn," Sunny breathed, before kissing her again. He would have been perfectly content to kiss her for the rest of the day, month, year, life, but a woman with a headset and clipboard cleared her throat.

"Ms. Primrose, it's time," she stated tersely. "They are waiting for you." The couple broke away, and Dawn squinted at the woman.

"Um, I, uh," she stammered for a bit, before regaining her footing. "Yes. About that…I have a family emergency and I'm going to have to leave right now. Please inform everyone that they will be either refunded their ticket money or given tickets to an alternate show." Dawn turned to Sunny. "Come, darling. I think we have a lot to discuss on the ride home."

"I think you're right," Sunny winked at his now-lover, and the two walked out the door hand-in-hand. The stagehand gulped, now faced with the grim task of informing the audience that Dawn Primrose would not be making an appearance.

"That girl owes me one million drinks," she sighed, rubbing her eyes and walking onstage.

Marianne rubbed her arms as she exited the police station; the air that had been so warm mere hours before now cold and tinged with loneliness. All Marianne knew was that her head hurt, and that Bog was in the hospital. The jingling of a bell announced Stuff and Thang's arrival, and Thang sat on the curb of the station's parking lot while Stuff opened and closed her mouth repeatedly.

"Who knows if we'll even be able to go to The Warehouse now, let alone Banff," Marianne stated woodenly, refusing to make eye contact with her fellow players. "All of our work, all of Bog's work…all for nothing."

"It was just his arm," Thang's still-shaky voice piped up hopefully.

"Can you play the viola without your arm, Thang?" Stuff bitterly replied. "What's going to happen now? Who knows if we'll even be able to play together again." Marianne looked at Stuff in surprise. The young woman was usually more optimistic than her, but one look at Stuff revealed that she was deeply troubled. She was pale, mouth pressed together harshly in anger, fumbling to light a cigarette.

"You promised you'd stop," Thang quietly observed, standing beside Stuff and placing his hand on hers that held the cigarette.

"Go ahead and try to tell me that I don't need one after that shit," Stuff growled, locking eyes with her friend. "Bog just lost his home. We don't know how long he'll be out of commission. His cello is destroyed. We could have died!"

"He got the cello out," Marianne perked up. "He gave it to me before the place…"

"Must've been the dust," Stuff grumbled, throwing the still unlit cigarette to the ground in frustration. "You must not have seen. That wasn't Bog's cello, it's a different case. I'm sure he'd rather you hear it from him." Marianne would've pressed for more, but Stuff looked so sick…

"My father can drive us all home after we gather everything from Bog's…," Marianne offered sullenly as she observed her father's gleaming white car screech into the parking lot. "The last thing we need tonight is any more traumatic events."

"I second that," Thang sighed weakly.

"Marianne," Arthur slammed his car door shut and made it to Marianne in three strides, embracing her tightly. "I'm so sorry…I'm so happy you're okay…I'm so sorry…" Upon seeing her father and being held by him, Marianne felt everything rushing into her at once. She sobbed into her father's shoulder, clutching his shirt tightly and thoroughly dampening the material with her tears. Thang mumbled something about going in the car, and led Stuff to the backseat of the vehicle. They sat in silence.

"Stuff…" Thang began awkwardly. Always the man of few words, Thang was dependent on Stuff interpreting his stammers and half-heard repetitions. In this case, he wasn't so sure that she would. "I know that was really scary, and I know that you're scared for Bog. But—"

"You know I'm a woman, right?" Stuff interrupted suddenly, sitting straight up and not looking at Thang. Thang, taking the bait, immediately became confused.

"Uh…yes, Stuff, I had noticed that," he laughed nervously. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't want to just be 'one of the guys' anymore, Thang," she got out in a strangled voice.

"What do you mean, Stuff?" Thang frowned at the woman. Though she had always been great at reading him, Thang was not good at understanding what she said and often ended up taking it the wrong way.

"My name is STEPH," Stuff yelled before punching the headrest of the seat in front of her. "I'm a woman, and I don't want to be treated like just another one of your friends! I'm tired of just being the strong one, the one to bail you out of trouble again and again!"

"Stuff…Steph, I…" Thang looked at the woman with tears in his eyes. "Of course, you mean the world to me…" Stuff stopped breathing outwards in harsh puffs and began letting out slow exhales. "I didn't know you felt that way about me…"

"Thang, I have stuck by your side no matter what," Stuff muttered, closing her eyes. "That won't change. I lost my temper and I apologize. Everything that's going on with Bog…"

"Let me be the one to be strong for once, Steph," Thang murmured, drawing Stuff's head to his shoulder. "You're my best friend." As Thang placed his cheek on the woman's head, he smelled something like strawberries. "I like that scent," Thang added nervously. "Is it shampoo? Deodorant? Cologne?" This made Stuff snort.

"It's perfume, you idiot," she sniffed, and Thang felt a bit of wetness on his shirt. He placed his arm around Stuff firmly, and continued to attempt to make her laugh.

"I'm sorry I didn't believe you about Roland, my dear," Arthur murmured to his daughter, smoothing her hair as she calmed down. They still stood outside, oblivious to the events in the car. "And I'm sorry to hear about your friend…"

"Sorry won't rebuild Bog's house…it won't put the Knights' Army back together…and it won't make me believe in love," Marianne gulped past the bitter lump in her throat. It seemed so unfair; Roland, no matter what kinds of charges they would try to pursue, would go free with a slap on the wrist, while Bog and his mother were now left without a home. "I wish that I had never met Roland!" she growled angrily, thinking about the man's vile actions. "He's done nothing but ruin my life since he set foot in it. I wish that there was something that I could do to make him pay…"

"Dearest, sometimes bad people go free while good people are punished," Arthur soothed, squeezing his daughter a bit tighter. "The world is an unforgiving place, it is true. As long as there are good people in the world, though, we can continue to make a difference." Marianne stilled suddenly.

"Dad, we could have Bog and Griselda stay in our house," she pulled back and looked at her father. "Maybe we can contact Habitat for Humanity or something…I know I'd gladly help anybody rebuild the house."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about," Arthur beamed and kissed his eldest daughter on the head. "You're a good person, Marianne. No matter how small, the things you do help others, and that makes their world just a little better. I couldn't be more proud of you, my dear, and I know that your mother would have said the same thing. I would be delighted to have your friend and his mother to stay with us."

"Thank you, Dad," Marianne smiled back, her spirits lifting a bit. "I won't let you down. I love you."

"I love you too, Princess," Arthur embraced the woman one more time before leading her towards the car. "Let's get everyone home. I imagine the next few weeks will be very trying."

"I imagine you're right," Marianne's smile faded as they entered the car. Stuff was laughing at something Thang had said, and Thang was enthusiastically telling a joke that Marianne had previously heard about a girl named Sally without any arms. It restored some of the warmth of camaraderie that the group had shared mere hours earlier, but Bog's absence was felt acutely. "We'll take you guys home first," she sighed, peering at Stuff and Thang in the rearview mirror.

"If you think that we would want to go anywhere but the hospital to look in at Bog, then you're crazy," Stuff sniffed disdainfully. "We should be able to go check on him, at least…"

"I suppose you'd fight me if I tried to refuse, huh Stuff?" Marianne chuckled drily. "We have to go back to the Kings'…old house and salvage whatever we can tonight."

"Bog would have our asses if we left the instruments outside like that," Thang added. Though Marianne really didn't want to have to look at the pile of rubble that had once been a happy place full of music and laughter and light, she nodded. Arthur sped into the night, attempting to make small talk with the two musicians in his backseat. Stuff and Thang, however, seemed perfectly happy to merely drift in and out of sleep. When Arthur stopped at the lot, Marianne took a deep breath and let herself out of the car.

"Do you need someone to go with you, Marianne?" Arthur whispered, trying not to wake Stuff and Thang, who snored in the backseat for the time being.

"I got this, Dad," Marianne jerked her chin downwards in what she hoped was a somewhat confident nod. "I'll be right back." Marianne walked around the large pile of wood, glass, and stone to where the back door of the house used to be. Waiting for her in all of their mellow, sweet glory, were the instruments: one cello, one viola, and two violins. Marianne scrutinized the cello, and true to Stuff's words, it was slightly different than Bog's cello. Even to the undiscerned eye, the mystery cello's case was a deep blue, while Marianne remembered the cello that Bog brought to practice residing in a bright orange case. Her gaze barely glanced over the viola and violin before it stopped on her own instrument.

"All you've ever done—" she hissed as if the violin could hear her, "–is cause me problems. I finally thought my life was getting put back together somehow…now I don't know if I even want to play you ever again." Marianne turned away in shame. For years, she had practiced to make a name for herself. Though Dawn had always stood in the spotlight, Marianne's hard work and dedication to the instrument and music in general was widely circulated by high-class private violin teachers. It had truly been a labor of love, as she was sure any musician would attest to. When Marianne had decided to pursue a degree of business rather than music in college, those who knew her best were not surprised, and private violin teachers with an aspiration to raise up a prodigy focused on Dawn instead. No matter how hard she tried, Marianne's life would never be free of music.

She opened the violin case, the violin innocently cradled in the plush velvet that lined the inside. The instrument felt so frail beneath her fingers, and it would be so easy for her to give up entirely, smash the thing and be done with performing forever. Her grip tightened on the fingerboard as she lifted it out of the case, grabbed the bow, tightened the hairs…it was almost routine. She could end it now, as she had with the violin that Roland had given her for her birthday, a lifetime ago. One final song, a farewell to the past, something that could somehow put all of this madness behind her. The theme from Adagio for Strings seemed to pluck itself out of the violin, slowly but surely gaining sound as Marianne put the bow to the strings. It was soft, hesitant, mournful at first, but grew to be something beyond just Marianne. She poured her anger, her helplessness, her malice, her hatred for Roland, her love for her family and friends into a crescendo that grew for several seconds before she ripped the bow away from the climax note. She was breathing hard, body slick with sweat, tears prickling at the edge of her eyes and waiting to spill over. Though summer was only beginning, the night air was cool and it made Marianne shiver. The last note was shimmering on the air, an abrupt cutoff that was meant to be followed by a soft resolution. However, Marianne's life had no soft resolution, and she decided that she did not want to finish the final song yet. Like every other time she had wanted to quit, to smash everything, to give up, she couldn't bring herself to do it. Not this time, Marianne thought as she put the violin in the case and grabbed the other violin and viola. Not yet.

...Hi!

*dodges incoming missiles*

I'm not dead! Just going through a lot (as per usual). I have finally settled into a bit of routine in my up-until-now-crazy life. I decided to revisit this because I really wanted to finish it, and I actually have a lot written ahead of the last chapter. I actually did a few small changes to the rest of the story, and I may update it, but for now I'm just going to upload what I have for chapter 10. :) I got so involved with updating this on Archive of Our Own, I almost forgot about where it all started! But I'm back and there will be semi-regular updates until this is over. I only have a few more chapters to go, so hopefully you guys can stick with me until the end.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, as usual, for reading this story and leaving your feedback. :) And happy 2019, the year of the end of Strange Music!