It was always silent up at the cemetery. Some people probably found it unnerving and associated it with ghosts and death, but to Marceline, it was oddly comforting. Like the souls of those lost were finally getting rest.

She started with the old flowers, getting rid of them and refilling the water pots on the grave. She'd bought plenty of fresh ones, even more so than usual. It felt more important today. She was the only one to come up; Marshall wasn't one for sentiment and despite Hunson's constant claims that he loved her the most, he'd never visited her grave. Not once in nine years. Marceline always tried to get up there at least once a month. It was something that Simon had told her to do when she was younger and really hurting.

"I know it's hard, Marcy. An old man like me, I lost my mom a long time ago, so I know how bad it hurts right now." Simon said, holding her tight. It didn't feel the same as when her mom did it. "But there's another way you can feel close to her. We'll go to the store, and you can buy any flowers you want, and we'll take them up and put them on the grave. And then you can talk to her. She won't be able to talk back, but she'll be listening to you, and she'll know you're there. That would make her really happy, knowing that you're there."

They took the flowers up to the grave and organised them, getting rid of the dead and dying ones from the funeral. Marceline sat down on the freshly lain grass and stared at the gravestone, mumbling, "Mommy. I miss you."

It was all she'd managed to get out before bursting into tears, and Simon had picked her up and soothed her, rocking her backwards and forwards until she cried herself to sleep right there in the cemetery.

Marceline shook the memory from her head and worked on organising the new flowers, making them look beautiful, like she deserved. She took her time, letting that be her sole focus, not the deep ache in her chest. She always missed her mother, always wished she'd had her growing up, but it felt worse on the anniversary. It always did.

She thought of what could've been. Having girls' days, having someone there to talk to about school and friends and crushes. Even something like having her mom explain to her about periods and growing up, rather than her dad passing her a DVD and telling her to 'watch it in her own time'. So many things would be different.

She ran a hand over the carving on the gravestone, over her mother's name. Finally sitting down on the grass, she sighed, running a hand through her hair and murmuring, "Hey, mom."

"I'm sorry it's been a while since I came up here. I guess life has just gotten in the way a little bit. School started back again, and that's as boring as ever, but I've only got this year and then I can run away and be awesome." Marceline plucked a few blades of grass from the ground and tossed them aside. "Do you remember that girl I mentioned? Bonnie? She's my girlfriend now. I really wish I could've introduced her to you, because I know you would've loved her. She's like, basically perfect. She's practically a genius when it comes to math and science, and she could probably discover the meaning of life or something, but she can be kind of a dumbass when it comes to me. It makes me laugh."

"She really cares about me. It's kind of jarring, because I'm not used to people caring that much. But I think she'd do anything she could to protect me." Marceline said, and after a few moments of thought, added. "Actually, she did. I'm back living with Simon right now, and it's… it's weird, but it's good. It's just strange not having to worry all the time or feel like I'm going to get jumped in my own home. And at school, dad's acting like he doesn't know me. He basically ignores me in all of his classes, I think because he's in this weird stalemate with Bonnie and doesn't know how to approach things. He's not used to not having the upper hand, I guess."

"I feel kind of awkward, and a little scared, caught up in the middle of all that, but I only have to endure it until graduation." Quietly, she allowed herself to smile. "And about that… a record label liked our demo and I've been emailing them about maybe signing with them. I haven't told anybody yet, not even the rest of the band, or Bonnie, just in case it falls through, but… I don't know. It's crazy, but I think we might actually have a shot when we leave. I wish you could be here to go to my shows, but I know you're watching them from where you are. Hopefully you don't think my music sucks."

She let herself laugh, but quickly sobered and murmured, "I know you're probably sad with how things are between me and dad. But I don't… I don't ever want to talk to him again, when I leave. I know there's all that stuff about forgiveness setting you free, but I don't owe him that. I don't want to owe him that. He made me think that I'm the reason you're not around, but… but I'm starting to realise that I'm not."

She felt a knot in her throat when she said it, like her body didn't entirely believe it yet. She sighed. "Maybe one day I'll actually pluck up the courage to tell him how much he messed me up, tell him to go fuck himself, but I think I'll just end up running away. I don't know if that makes me a coward or not. I just get so scared of him. He looks at me, and I feel like the ten-year-old kid he left bleeding on the floor. Like I'm shocked it's happening even though it always happens."

Marceline sighed and went back to plucking at the grass. "I should probably go. I think I might call Bonnie later, but for now, I kind of want to be alone with my thoughts. I learned that when I lost you and all I wanted to do was hide under my covers, like it was all some nightmare I was going to wake up from. Maybe it is, and I just haven't woken up yet. I don't know. I just miss you a lot."

She pushed herself up to stand and took one last look at the grave. Images flashed through her mind. Flowers. A coffin. A little black dress. Tears that never seemed to stop falling. "I love you, mom."

Marceline walked back to her car with a heavy heart.

Bonnie knocked on the door concisely, stuffing her hands in her pockets. Now that it was getting into October – she couldn't believe how fast the school year was already flying by – there was a light chill in the Autumn air.

The door swung open, and Simon smiled gently. "Hello. Here to see Marcy?"

"As always," Bonnie said, stepping inside. She heard a vague noise from the television in the living room and asked, "She's not busy, is she?"

"On a little nostalgia trip at the moment," Simon glanced towards the living room door, and his smile morphed into something sad. "She found some old VHS tapes in the attic and has been curled up in a blanket watching them all for the last hour."

"Oh," Bonnie followed his gaze in concern, quickly slipping her shoes off and almost tiptoeing into the room. The lights were off, and the natural light from the window was low. Marceline wasn't on the couch, but rather sat in front of it, in her pyjamas, wrapped up in a blanket, cuddling Hambo and staring at the television.

"How about… you draw a panda. With a hat."

"I don't know," Bonnie recognised little Marceline instantly. "That seems kinda silly."

"Silly?" Bonnie couldn't see the woman behind the camera, but she had a good guess as to who she was. "Nothing is silly if you say it's not. The panda could be really important. And it's good to be a little silly sometimes, anyway."

Little Marcy seemed to consider that, and then picked up her crayon and started to draw. "Okay, mommy."

As she scribbled on the page and drew a panda with a big pointy hat, Elise said, "You're going to be a great artist when you grow up, Marceline."

Little Marcy looked up at her mother and smiled widely, and Bonnie's heart clenched. She smiled at the TV, and without thinking, said, "You're adorable."

Marceline jumped, and scrambled to pause the tape. "Bonnie. I- I didn't know you were coming over."

"I texted, but…" Bonnie trailed off and looked down at Marceline. She could tell that she wasn't feeling well; usually, Marceline had this aura of playful mischief, but today she seemed sombre. She wasn't sure if she wanted to be alone, but Marceline opened up the blanket she was wrapped in as if to invite her. She dropped down next to her and Marceline immediately curled up to her. "What are you doing?"

"I… I remembered that Simon saved a lot of this stuff after mom died, because dad tried to throw it all away." Marceline glanced back at the television almost longingly, and Bonnie's hands found their way into her hair. "I just… felt like looking for it. She, um, she died nine years ago today."

Bonnie let out a quiet "oh," in realisation, and quickly squeezed her tightly, trying to communicate that she was there. Marceline sighed against her and, softly, Bonnie asked after doing the math, "You were only eight?"

"Nearly nine," Marceline mumbled, and Bonnie heard her sniffle and saw her wipe a tear from her eye, "I went up to the cemetery earlier to put fresh flowers on the grave and… talk to her for a while. I always miss her, but it just… it always feels worse today."

"That's understandable," Bonnie said. She wanted to ask if watching the videos was helping or hindering her grief, but Marceline just squeezed Hambo a little tighter and then pressed play again.

The video blurred and changed to a different clip. This time, Elise was in front of the camera, not behind, holding little Marceline in her arms. She was so small, and Bonnie quietly awed and asked, "How old were you here?"

Marceline hummed but didn't look away from the television. "Probably around three."

"Everything stays, right where you left it, everything stays, but it still changes," Elise sang as little Marcy's green eyes fluttered closed, "ever so slightly, daily and nightly, in little ways, when everything stays."

Bonnie saw the moment little Marceline fell asleep, the way she curled into her mother's chest and gripped her t-shirt. Absently, her hand traced the side of Marceline's wrist. "Your tattoo."

"Yeah," Marceline said quietly, "I haven't- I haven't heard her sing that since..."

Bonnie felt Marceline tense when Hunson spoke behind the camera. "You coddle her too much."

"I can't help it," Elise laughed, looking up at the camera with the same smile Bonnie saw on Marceline's face every day. Her hand went through little Marcy's short, messy hair, "She's so little. And like you can talk, I found her with five chocolate wrappers and all she said was 'daddy let me do it'."

"She knows how to get what she wants," Hunson said, and panned the camera over to Marshall, who was sleeping on the adjacent couch. "He'll just take things and then run away when he gets into trouble. She knows she's cute and she uses it to get me to say yes."

Elise held little Marcy closer. "She's cheeky, but she's a good kid. I'm thinking about getting her started on the piano. I saw her trying to play on it the other day."

Bonnie squeezed Marceline comfortingly and said, "So you've just always been musical, even before you could play anything."

"I just wanted to be like her," Marceline said quietly, "She just seemed so cool to me."

"Alright, can you take her? She won't stay down if she's not being cuddled and I've got a little bit of work I have to finish." Elise asked, and Bonnie watched as the camera went down, and after a little shuffling, it moved back up to show little Marcy cuddling into Hunson. "Daddy's little girl."

Bonnie glared at Hunson automatically. Admittedly, she was rather surprised at the way he smiled – it wasn't tight and tense like any time she'd ever seen him smile before. It was real, and he looked down at little Marceline with so much love that Bonnie wondered if Hunson really had been abducted by aliens and was being worn around like a skin suit.

"He looks like a completely different person," Bonnie said aloud, "Like, not physically, just… the way he seems, you know? It's such a dramatic difference."

"Yeah," It came out in a long, heaved sigh, "It was like… when she died, his heart went with her. Like she wasn't just the glue holding the family together, but she was the glue holding him together."

"He's a grown man," Bonnie found it hard to show sympathy for him, "He should've held himself together."

"I know, but I still kinda feel a little bad for him. He never really healed from it, and I know what that's like, because I never really did, either." Marceline's thumb traced against her hand absentmindedly. "We deal with it in extremely different ways, but it's the same pain. Honestly, Marshall's the only one between all three of us that isn't messed up."

Bonnie just held her close. It was easy for her to hate Hunson, knowing how he treated his daughter. For Marceline, it was more complicated. "You just… you deserve so much more than him."

"I have you," Marceline shrugged, "I have Keila, and my brother, and Simon. I told you before, you can make your own family."

Bonnie's stomach jumped, and when Marceline nuzzled into her shoulder affectionately, she murmured, "Do you want kids one day?"

"Moving a little fast there, Bon," Marceline commented, but her usual dry sarcasm was a little bit weaker. She sighed and shrugged again. "I don't know. Yes and no. Yes because it might surprise you, but I do love children. And no because… I don't know. I don't think I'd be the best parent. I'm kind of irresponsible for one thing, but also I've got someone's genes in me."

"You would never do anything to harm anyone, let alone a child. I know that for a fact, so get that out of your head." Bonnie told her matter-of-factly. It was the truth; she didn't think Marceline would ever hurt anybody. "I feel like… people like you and me, who haven't necessarily had the best parents tend to make better parents. I can only speak for myself, but after having parents who would only love me if I met their conditions, if I had a child, I would remember that pain and make sure that they never feel it. That they always know I'll love them no matter what."

"I wanted to make a really bad joke, but you've actually got a pretty good point." Marceline said, and when she met her gaze, she actually smiled. Her eyes still looked a little sad, but that was to be expected. "But you are a genius, so I don't know what I expected."

Bonnie smiled. "Tell me the bad joke anyway."

"I was just going to say what if they're a serial killer." Marceline said, and Bonnie gave her a customary chuckle. She felt like she should always laugh at Marceline's jokes; even the bad ones.

"Oh, it's dark in here," Simon walked in carrying two mugs, and he carefully placed them both on the coffee table. "I made you both some cocoa. Are you feeling alright, Marcy?"

After a few moments of quiet thought, and a sip of her cocoa, Marceline nodded. "Yeah, actually. I think so."

"Good, good," Simon glanced at the television screen, where it was paused on the image of Hunson holding little Marcy. "Are you sure you don't miss home? You don't have to stay here with me, you know. I know how to entertain myself."

"Trying to get rid of me, Simon?" Marceline asked, and when he quickly tried to make amends, she laughed softly. "I know you didn't mean it like that. I like being here. Feels more like home than anything else."

Simon smiled. "Well, I love having you. I've got a meeting with my support worker in twenty minutes, so I'm going to go out. Bonnie, please keep her company. She's not as tough as she acts."

"Yeah, I will," Bonnie squeezed Marceline's hand, "and I don't know about that. I think she's pretty hardcore."

Marceline laughed. "I think that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"Alright, you two kids have fun. I'll be back by five." Simon walked out of the living room humming the Cheers theme song, and Marceline rested her head on Bonnie's shoulder and grabbed the remote again, pressing play.

The clip changed again, to the loud echoes of a kid's play area. This time, it was little Marshall on camera, running around and playing with the other kids.

"Don't you want to go play, Marcy?" It was Elise's voice behind the camera again, and she pointed it at little Marceline, who was sat on the chair next to her, scribbling on a little notepad. "Your brother is having loads of fun."

"No thanks, mommy," Little Marcy didn't look up from her drawing, "I'm okay."

Elise laughed gently. "Sweetie, don't you want to go make some friends? I'm too old and boring to hang out with. Go play."

This time, Marceline did look up from her drawing. She pouted at her mother, and Bonnie wouldn't blame her for giving in. On her Marceline, pouting made Bonnie cave, but on little Marceline… if it were Bonnie, she'd let that kid get away with anything. She was adorable.

"But mommy," little Marcy whined, "I want to stay with you."

"Always so antisocial," Bonnie joked, bumping against Marceline playfully, "I'm guessing you were just born a big grump, then?"

Marceline just shrugged. "I was always really quiet. I think Marshall got all the socialising genes, and I just got the brains, looks, and talent."

Bonnie laughed. "Someone thinks highly of herself."

"Just speaking facts, Bon-Bon," Marceline flashed a grin, and Bonnie was happy she was happy, "I'm serious about him getting all the social stuff, though. I was always really quiet, and the quiet kids don't really make any friends."

"That hits a little too close to home," Bonnie admitted, but then added, "hey, you've got Keila and you've known her since you were kids, so…"

"That's literally because she moved here, therefore had no friends, so the teacher thought 'hey, Marceline has no friends, so they've already got something in common'." Marceline snorted with laughter. "She made me be her 'buddy' for her first week of school. Usually those kinds of things fail, and I thought it would, because she's so extroverted and I'm really not. I figured she'd go make new friends and ditch me, but she hasn't so far even when she had plenty of opportunity and reason to."

Bonnie frowned at the self-deprecating comment. "Because she loves you, dumb-dumb."

"No, I know that, it's… I don't know. When mom passed away, I was kinda catatonic for a while. Didn't want to do anything, even talk. I just sort of hid under my covers like it was all a bad dream I'd wake up from eventually," Marceline said, "and even then, she always made her mom drop her off and she'd just climb under the covers and hide with me. And then there was the angsty phase, where I wasn't exactly the best friend in the world, so…"

Bonnie squeezed her gently and said, "Both were just different forms of grief, though. Don't you know that whole five stages thing? Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance."

"So I've checked off denial and anger, then? Great, nearly halfway there," Marceline replied sarcastically, "What's the bargaining stage? Selling my soul to the devil?"

"Not everyone experiences all of them, and sometimes it comes in different orders," Bonnie said, "bargaining is mostly like… a lot of dwelling on 'what ifs'."

Marceline's eyes widened and she murmured, "Well then. Can't wait for the depression stage."

It was a joke, but Bonnie shook her head and pulled her close. "Didn't you listen to what I said? Not everyone experiences all of them, and… well, from what it sounds like, you must've touched on that in your denial and anger. But… I mean, obviously I can't read your mind, but you've always seemed generally happy. You know? And that's with your horrible dad around."

"I am happy," Marceline said quietly, looking up at Bonnie with a small smile, "most of the time, anyway. Especially… especially now I'm away from him. And even when I'm not happy, I try to be, you know? Because you're right, I basically was there when I was all angry about everything, and I don't ever want to go back to that place. That's why music means so much to me, because it basically helped me out of that place. An emotional outlet, you know?"

"Yeah," Bonnie nodded, slipping a hand up Marceline's pyjama shirt and tracing up and down her spine, "I know. And I'm glad you have that. You always look so… content, when you play music."

Marceline shuffled closer to her, pulling the blanket tight, "It makes me feel close to mom, too. I know… I know she would've loved you."

Bonnie's heart felt warm at the thought. "You think?"

"Yeah," Marceline smiled, "she'd have seen how happy you make me. It wouldn't matter to her that you're a girl."

"I wish I could've met her," Bonnie said, "but I got to meet her daughter, and she's pretty great."

"Bonnie," Marceline nudged her, "stop flirting with me, you'll make me blush."

"That's just more reason to keep going," Bonnie said, but in part, it was because Marceline was smiling, on a day where it was basically guaranteed she wouldn't feel good. "Come on. Let's watch more of this. I want to see Little Marcy being cute."

Marceline rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling when she pressed play.