Hey again guys, sorry it took so long for me to write this chapter. It should be pretty obvious before you read it that it's an emotional one, right? This was tough to write. I want to send huge love and thank yous to everyone who reviewed the last chapter as well as an apology for the fan tears that may have been spilt. But you know what's weird? Writing the final scene of last chapter wasn't anywhere near as emotional for me as writing the final scene of this chapter. But just for a brief pace-change this is almost completely reaction based with just a light sprinkling of plot. Kinda. Well, you'll see.

Guys, the sequel to Rehearsal is out! YAY! Go read it as soon as you finish leaving me a review for this chapter! Seriously, it's as awesome as ever and I am so psyched to see were this story is going. It's called Opening Act and it's written by my very good friend CountingWithTurkeys who is not just an amazing author but also a very excellent person.

Content warning: all the sads. So many sads. Shock, pain, violence, reveals, plot devices, grief, more pain.

They spoke in horrified whispers for years afterwards about the night she tried to tear the very stars from the heavens in her grief. They even tried to speak to her directly, tried to reason with her and calm her. Marceline ignored them all. Time passed. Someone yelled her name, shook her shoulder. She ignored them too. How long had she been visiting unspeakable destruction down on the landscape before she'd been forcibly calmed back from grief-fuelled blood lust? Long enough that she didn't know who she was or what she was doing anymore. Long enough that someone had thought to summon Zoe, calm her enough with her lineage's Talent for Peppermint Butler to blow his magical sleeping powder in her face and carry her across the field of carnage back to the palace. Once the inhuman rage had cooled it crystallised, turned cold and hard like lava after an eruption. She no longer had the energy to lift her arms or turn her head, there was no point anymore. Bonnie was dead. Estelle had cut her head off with Finn's axe. And it was Marceline's fault, like every other death in her pointless war. She'd killed the only woman she'd ever loved and cursed herself an eternity alone tortured by with memories and regrets.

"Mom, come on. Please talk to me."

She hadn't cried yet, Marceline realised. Was that normal? She hadn't spoken a word since she'd woken from the magical sleep and found that someone had cleaned the blood and ash from her skin and laid out fresh clothes for her. So now she was clean again, as though a little water could undo all that death.

"Marcy? Please, just nod your head if you can hear me."

In the strange new reality Marceline had woken to nothing made any sense any more. Why did it matter if she was clean or comfortable? Why not just let her rage until daybreak, let the sun put her out of her misery? Was there a point to any of it? Had there ever been?

"Your Highness, I'm sorry to intrude at such a time. But there is a delicate matter. The late queen instructed me to give you this letter without delay should the news of her passing ever reach us. I am so, so sorry. But she insisted. We should honour her last wish."

Something was placed into her hands and perhaps a couple of the words spoken to her did make sense after all because Marceline looked down at the pale pink envelope with her name written on it in perfect script. Grod, her wife had had such amazing handwriting, how had she never noticed before? The way she formed such perfect little circles on round letters, the tiny flourish on every capital. Nothing new would ever be written in that same script, how could the words remain when the hand that formed them was gone? It took her a moment to figure out what she was supposed to be doing.

"From Bonnie?" Marceline heard herself croak. Her voice was rough, throat sore from who knew how many hours of unearthly screaming.

"She insisted it be brought directly to you, Highness."

Oh, it was Peps. Where had he come from? But then Marceline realised she didn't care. The only thing that mattered anymore was the letter sitting in her hands. She stared at it for a long time before she opened it, not hearing any of the gentle encouragements her butler offered. Finally she ripped the envelope open and shook out the letter.

Dear Marceline,

This is not the letter you're hoping for. You want me to say that there's been a mistake, that it wasn't me who died on Estelle's axe. I'm sorry to say that if you are reading this then I am dead. I don't know how she came to have your most prized possession but I know that I must die on its blade. I saw it happen, we both know that there's no escaping from a Cosmic Owl Dream.

This isn't just to let you know that I've passed. I came to a realization in the last few days and I need to share it with you. What Garrett did to me was to take my memories and twist them, direct them to someone else. He made me believe things that weren't true and forget what I knew in my heart. I thought about it a lot and what I realised was that he was only able to do that because there was already such a great depth of feeling there. Garrett couldn't undo the underlying love no matter how hard he tried, he could only put someone else's face on top of it. Because of his Talent my conscious mind is now diverting all of my emotion towards someone else but it hasn't gone anywhere, he couldn't stop me feeling it. What I need you to know is that even when it's been screwed with and diverted and twisted, there is still so much love and that deep down below all of his interference it flows for the woman who stood next to me and repeated vows on our wedding day. Whoever caused that love to stir in me must be someone incredible, someone who could break down my barriers and reach out to the very core of me. I'm not a naturally emotional person, I'm not good at opening myself to someone. But we have three beautiful children together and a marriage that until recently was perfect. I can only imagine what sort of incredible person you must have been to make that possible. Another thing I remember with perfect clarity is that years ago, before we met, I felt nothing but disdain for mortal weaknesses like love and sentiment. It took centuries of slowly falling for you before I allowed myself to own my feelings, we both know how bad I am at analyzing them. I want to thank you for being patient with me even though it must have been torture for you and I wasn't worth it in the end.

But this isn't a love letter. As much as I wish I had the time to wax lyrical about my revelations over my feelings for you we are in the middle of a war. This is a rallying cry. I know I'm going to die, and soon. So I need you to do some important stuff for me. First of all, take care of the children. Jake is fragile since losing Kim, Phoebe is hot headed and unpredictable. But most of all I want you to look after Finn. He's a cosmic entity and I don't want to take any chances with his safety when I'm gone. There's every chance that he's mixed up in stuff we don't even know about and it's so frustrating to try to think of a continuity plan for something that I can't see coming. I'm not going to be here to see it through so I'm putting all of my faith in your abilities to keep him safe. I never thought you'd have to finish this journey alone, I'm so sorry that this is necessary. But circumstances have forced my hand. I can only hope that one day you'll understand even if you can't forgive me for what I had to do. I know I've fucked up beyond repair. I won't insult you by trying to offer platitudes or excuses. I just want you to know that despite what I've done, despite the divorce and the war and my memories being screwed with, I still love my wife with all my heart. Even if I can't recall your smile I feel the empty space in the bed where you should lie, I have the imprint of my wedding ring on my finger. There's a hole in my reality that you should fill and it is my bitterest regret that I go to my grave without making that right. Perhaps I'll come back as a ghost, perhaps in death I'll be free from Garrett's influence. Believe me when I say that this isn't how I wanted it to be, sometimes there's nothing even I can do to find a loophole. Give them hell, love, we both know you were born for it. And when you rip the heads from those usurping bastards' shoulders I hope you'll be at least partly doing it for me. I still love you, Marceline. I just wish I remembered you.

All of my love,

Bonnie

The tears had come, she realised. They'd started spilling quietly down her cheeks somewhere between wondering when Bonnie had written her letter and realising that some part of her wife had still loved her.

"She adored you from the moment she met you." Peppermint Butler told her softly as he pulled the unresisting vampire into a hug. "She loved you so much. She's still counting on you. People like Estelle don't deserve justice. She took away my oldest friend, my creator, my purpose. Now we'll avenge her. I want to watch her turn to ash."

...

The time had finally come. It flicked on like a light switch inside her brain, this wasn't the way it was supposed to be but suddenly things had changed and it all came flooding back. The request, volunteering, the bite. Becoming someone else. And now she was back in control and she had a mission. There was only one fairly large problem and unfortunately he was currently twisting the jagged end of a snapped candy cane pillar into her guts. It went deeper and she hissed in pain and rage. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, she was supposed to be alone when the influence came off!

"You're a spy." Stefan growled in fury. He thrust the broken pillar deeper and she felt it sever her spine, felt her legs disappear from her consciousness. The bastard, she was going to kill him the moment she got free.

"I'll kill you." she growled furiously. He shifted his shape at the same time she did and grappled her back down; she wouldn't escape. Not this time. He knew that if he could only keep her contained long enough then his comrades would return, someone would. They were drawn by the sounds of battling vampires. And sure enough he wasn't alone with the struggling traitor for long.

"Stefan? What the hell? Is that- Keila?"

Elliot. He could have kissed her. She was covered in mud and gore, she looked exhausted, but he felt when her Talent swept the room and her eyes blazed crimson with instant fury. Next second he was holding her back with one shape shifted claw and pinning Keila to the wall with the other.

"Fetch the queen." Stefan instructed her, still with most of his attention on holding the hissing traitor in place.

"Marce? She's fucking catatonic! Or do you mean fetch the other queen, the one who got her head sliced off because you weren't watching her? You fucked up big time, I should stake you both."

"Then fetch Jake! He'll be king now, fetch Jake and Phoebe and anyone you can find! Johnson, Nia, Zoe, I don't care! Bring reinforcements! This would have been a brilliant time for either of us to have lineage still alive!"

Elliot did something else. Stefan didn't know why he'd expected her to listen to him but he didn't care so long as help arrived. She stretched away, shifted her chest and lungs until they were huge and took a breath so deep it seemed like it would never end. Then she opened her unnaturally large mouth and let out a yell so loud it shook the walls.

"HELP! WE NEED HELP DOWN HERE! IN THE QUEEN'S BASEMENT LABORATORY, WE HAVE A TRAITOR!"

Johnson, Nia and their assorted lineage came crashing through the doors moments later armed to the teeth and howling in rage. Keila considered her options, stared around for an exit she might be able to reach and realised her situation was hopeless. Surrender was her only chance, for now.

"Ok, you got me. Take me to Her Royal Fanginess and let me confess, she'll understand. I didn't know what I was doing, Garrett fucked with my memories. He made me a meek little background girl, always here but never noticed. He hid his Talent so far in my sense of self that neither of your brain reading morons could see him; hell I didn't even know he was in there while I was under. But he saw you. And I saw too, and now I know. Even if he's dead now and I have nobody to report to, I saw where-"

"Go to sleep." Stefan commanded her as his massive fist collided with the side of her skull and she flopped unconscious into his hold. He turned to the assembled mass of vampires staring at her, and then to Elliot. She looked back at him and winked with the eye furthest from the rest of the crowd. As uncomfortable as it was he would need to talk to her. But first they needed to deal with the traitor. "Take her to the dungeon and lock her in a vampire-proof cell. Tie her in ropes soaked in garlic oil, you know how to do it. Quickly, before she wakes. She attacked me, she was the one who dressed Queen Bubblegum and sent her onto the battlefield. Her Talent is illusion, don't let her fool you. I thought I had the real queen safe by my side, I'm willing to forfeit my life now if that's what Marceline asks. Go on, take the traitor. I can't look at her."

There were the inevitable questions he answered with brief replies and further commands to leave. Elliot stayed silent, staring at him. Eventually Johnson bowed and though he was reluctant he slung the unconscious vampire over his shoulder before gliding from the room with the others. Finally they were alone and Elliot could speak.

"How long?" she asked. He knew what she meant even if she had the one mind he couldn't read. How long had he known? How long had he been planning?

"Since her second Cosmic Owl Dream. She came to me because she knew I would help. I didn't like it but her logic was flawless as always."

"And did it work?"

He motioned her over to a side wall, unobtrusive but when Elliot thought about it conspicuously free of shelving or any other ornament. It was nothing but smooth pale pink candy-stone.

"I hate you, Elliot Bysshe." Stefan told her seriously. "I hate that I have to trust you and take you into my confidence. Especially since you know what I was forced to do for Marco. But despite that you kept it secret from Marceline to spare her feelings. And I suspect most strongly that it isn't all you're holding secret, is it? Oh don't give me that look, I still can't read your thoughts. But I do observe. I see how you look at her. And I see that you're giving her space, letting her choose. Even if Firefly doesn't know that you're doing it for love, I do. And I know how it feels to watch someone you love slowly fall for someone else. She's in love with Yrran and doesn't know how to tell him, you're in love with her and don't want to hurt her by telling her."

"I don't want to force her to pick one of us. I want her to follow her heart at her own pace, even if it leads away from me." Elliot muttered. A blush was slowly creeping across her cheeks and she looked down at the floor, unable to meet his eyes. "Phoebe is... she's too good for me, man. I'm so broken and dirty, I'm damaged goods. And who can blame her for falling for that demon boy? He's handsome, unique, interesting. He has a pure heart, I'd never tell her so but he's basically like Finn and Jake rolled into one with a dash of both her parents. He's gallant, brave, curious and intelligent and he hasn't turned hard and cynical the way I have. What can I offer her? I'm a loser, now and forever."

"I know how important it is for you to protect her freedom and I understand. That demon cat reminds me of Marco, in a way. Fierce and innocent all at once. But I know that you understand loyalty and duty even if I personally think you're an asshole. There are things you have to do because duty demands it even if it goes against your natural instincts. And there are things I had to do, too. Elliot, I had no choice. Someone told me one time that responsibility demands sacrifice. And now I need you to join me in lying to the world, just for a little longer. I have a plan and I could use the help. I'll keep your secret if you keep mine. Not for malice's sake, though. For duty and responsibility. Deal?"

She hesitated, he could see the doubt in her eyes. But after a long moment of silence Elliot nodded and held out her hand for him to grasp.

"Deal. Now show me what you're been hiding."

He touched a completely ordinary looking brick in the wall and a hidden panel slid away to reveal a small room with a huge cryogenic tank filling almost all of the available space. Through the icy condensation that covered the glass casing she could just make out a shape inside.

"I can't believe you pulled this off." Elliot breathed in awe.

...

The conspicuous signs on the door warning them to keep out might have worked on the candy citizens and even on Finn and Jake when they were younger but Phoebe had been sporadically visiting the attic to say hello to Uncle Neddy since she was very small. The first time she'd been so scared at finding him there, too busy stuttering an explanation to the indifferent dragon that she hadn't heard anyone walk up behind her and it was a shock when she was lifted up in warm arms. She'd squealed in fear and her Mama had laughed before reassuring her that she wasn't in trouble and introducing her for real.

"Magnificent, isn't he?"

"Uh-huh. But Mama, if he's your brother why is he a different shape to you?"

"Because that's the way he came from the Mother Gum. People get built different, sweetie. We don't need to figure it out. We just need to respect it."

"Like how me and Finn and Jake are all different!"

"Exactly like that, yes. But you're all equally important even though you're different. And we love all of you, so much."

The room felt like it had changed, Phoebe thought. It looked so much smaller than in her memory. Was this the angle her Mama had seen the attic from the day she'd caught her six year old daughter snooping where she'd been expressly forbidden from going? Phoebe stopped with one hand still on the door and let that thought soak in. Did that mean she was the same height as Mama now? She was an adult after all, they were the same age biologically. And she'd never know for sure, she'd never thought to check before. Phoebe tried to scan her recent memories of her mother but she still couldn't decide. It was hard to tell, had Queen Bubblegum still been a little taller than her daughter or was Phoebe just remembering her that way because she automatically thought of herself as a child compared to the most powerful queen in Ooo? And had she just thought about her mother in the past tense? But that was correct even if it felt like her chest was being crushed to think it. It was correct, her mother was in the past now. The hand slipped from the door handle and dropped limply to her side. Phoebe stared straight ahead unseeing for a long moment before she swallowed down her unwelcome emotions and forced herself to focus on performing her duty. Just like her mother had taught her.

"Hey Uncle Neddy. It's me, Phoebe."

He didn't react to the sound of her voice but when he heard her name Phoebe could have sworn the huge pink dragon had paused from sucking on his favourite tree root for a moment.

"I came to talk to you. I know, it's been a while. And I bet you've heard a whole load of shouting and stuff that scared you recently, huh? Did Mama come up and tell you what was going on? Well, there are some... bad people. And they did some bad stuff, hurt some people and threatened my Mom. Mama didn't like that, so she decided to stand up to them. There was a fight, there were actually a few different fights. She was so brave. She... she suffered many wounds but still kept going. Until she couldn't keep going anymore. Neddy, I'm here to let you know that your sister, my mother... she died, Neddy. She's dead. And- and it's my fault b-because I didn't think through the consequences of my actions the way she taught me. I killed Garrett, see, while his Talent was still in her mind. She was already unstable from the brain injury and he got in there and twisted up her memories. And then I k-killed him because I was mad he'd hurt Yrran. Isn't that just stupid, though? I can literally burn to death an ancient vampire lord because Yrran got hurt but I can't tell him I like him? And Mama, if she'd known, oh Grod that would have been a fight. I can just hear her yelling, throwing cushions around, storming off. And she says Mom's the drama queen. She said, I guess. She said it. She'll never say it again. She'll never fuss over my dress again or tell me to careful watering the roses again, she'll never go flying with Mom again or dance at a royal ball again. You know she used to let me take the lead in the lab for the day and be my assistant for a change? Just, every now and then. We hadn't done that in ages, I thought maybe, once things were normal again... My Mama is dead. It's never gonna be normal again, is it Neddy?"

Phoebe didn't know when she'd sat down on the step leading to her uncle's pool or when she'd rested her head in her hands to stare with unfocused eyes at her own face flickering back at her from the lethal water. She slowly became aware that she wouldn't much care if she pitched forward into it, it would hurt but then perhaps she'd be feeling something at least. And then the reflection rippled apart with a small splash, then another and another. Phoebe looked up and met the huge eyes of her uncle. He'd abandoned his tree root and had come across to her while she sat, careful not to get too close and get any water on her just like his sister had taught him all those years earlier when they'd first been introduced.

"I just wish I could talk to her one last time." Phoebe whispered as she watched the tears well in his eyes and roll down softly scaled cheeks. "I want her to know that I love her and that I'm so sorry. I want her and Mom to walk me down the aisle when I get married for real, I want her to tuck me into bed and read me a story like when I was little. And I already know which story it would be. It would be the one about the brave princess, the girl who stayed strong and kind even when things got tough. She'd want me to be brave. I wish I could cry like everybody else, Neddy."

He bowed his head until the end of his pink snout almost touched the surface of the water and squeezed his eyes tight shut. A thicker stream of tears flowed away down his cheeks and ever so carefully Phoebe reached out to lay her hand comfortingly against the dry patch of scales between his nostrils.

"Thank you, Neddy." she murmured to him. In response the great dragon opened his mouth and let out a melodic wail that wavered up and down the scale like a kind of odd music. It echoed all around the attic and harmonised with itself, almost like there were two candy voices singing. Phoebe continued stroking the warm scales of her uncle's snout while he cried enough for two and sang his last farewell.