Chapter 34 - Finn (Originally Published: 25 March 2016)

Tick… Tock…

Finn watched the hands on the clock above Miss Pearl's head, his leg bouncing impatiently. There were ten minutes left in the school day. Ten minutes before their two week long holiday break. Ten minutes until he would have to focus solely on the Christmas play he'd been rehearsing for months.

Whitewater High School's annual Christmas play was one of the most highly anticipated events of the year—he'd learned—and with all the attention to detail, it didn't come as a surprise. According to some of the more seasoned crew members, the majority of the town's populace never failed to show up to a performance. While the curse of that knowledge may have weighed heavily on another person, Finn found it to be more of an exciting challenge. It was still his first production though, and he was crazy nervous.

If someone had told him a year ago that he would be taking part in the school play, he wouldn't have believed it. He'd never had an interest in theatre before - in fact, he'd only joined the crew to get closer to Phoebe - but after being exposed to the bizarre world of acting, he found that he actually really liked it. Something about taking part in made up roles and crafting fantastical illusions screamed adventure to him. Even the technicalities were incredibly appealing. There was an unfamiliar pride in knowing that the audience would be caught up in the scenarios unfolding in front of them, completely unaware of the dozens of other people working just under their noses to make the scenes more inviting.

He wondered if anyone else felt this kind of nervousness in anticipation of a performance. They'd all had more experience than him, to be sure, but how many plays did one have to be in for the anxieties to subside? Did Phoebe still feel tense before she went on stage? A frown slid down his face. The veteran actress had been in the back of his mind a lot today - creeping up on him, wielding worries as a weapon. Finn knew that he shouldn't be so apprehensive about her. Phoebe wasn't the star of the play for nothing. If the other cast members weren't as concerned about her as he was, then everything was likely fine… yet, something still seemed off.

She and Marceline weren't at lunch earlier that day, which was no real cause for alarm, but when he'd seen Phoebe in literature class she appeared to be struggling to maintain her composure. Maybe it was just some kind of neurosis brought about by the impending production, but he couldn't seem to shake the nagging feeling in his gut.

Whatever his instincts were trying to warn him of was interrupted by a gentle hand on his arm. He looked up to see Bea leaning towards him with that bright, sunshine-y smile of theirs. Finn broke into a big, toothy grin. I'm fine, he tried to communicate.

Even with the upcoming events, his best friend appeared totally calm and collected - not at all phased by the same kinds of feelings that he was. It was perplexing, because Bea's role in the play was much more involved than his own. Where Finn was simply pointing a spotlight at the stage several times throughout the play, they were running around in pitch darkness to fetch props and costumes for Phoebe - all without making any sound at all.

Something was different about Bea though. Finn couldn't really pinpoint when the change had come about. There were small things at first: wearing better fitting clothing, smiling more, better posture. However they'd obtained their newly gained confidence, it certainly seemed to be beneficial all around.

Other people had surely noticed, of course, but Finn found this new side of Bea strangely alluring. Perhaps healing from his disappointment over Phoebe allowed him to finally open his eyes and see what was right in front of him the whole time. Or maybe these feelings were his subconscious attempt to bounce back from the hurt he'd felt. Finn couldn't be totally sure. The one thing that was certain was that Bea made him happy, and seeing their cool exterior made him considerably less nervous.

His train of thought was interrupted by the jarring shriek of the school bell. The joys of being released from school for an extended period of time were delayed by responsibility, but Finn was just one step closer to holiday break.

"Have you sold all of your tickets?" his friend asked, pulling on the huge backpack they took everywhere. That thing must have weighed a ton; Finn was absolutely positive that Bea could lift more than him. "I have a couple left over."

"I haven't, no. I have two with Bonnie and Bongo's names on them. They haven't bought theirs yet and they promised to get them from me." He slung his bag over his shoulder, thinking for a moment. O'Neill had given each and every person involved in the school play the task of selling twenty tickets by the day of the performance. The theatre teacher didn't seem like the kind of person who would be wise to upset, so no one had argued the absurdity of this task. Finn was fairly certain he could take the brunt of O'Neill's anger a little better than Bea. After all, getting into trouble had become his speciality lately. "You can sell your tickets to them, if you want. I'm sure I can find other people who are willing to buy mine."

Bea tucked a curtain of hair behind their ear, the corner of their lips turning up slightly. "It's okay. You already asked them. It wouldn't be fair if I totally owned you like that." The pair turned to exit the classroom, neither of them looking forward to squeezing through the crowded hallways in order to get to their pre-designated meeting place.

"Suit yourself, but that means I win," Finn said with a shrug, trying to stomp out the fluttery feeling in his stomach. The sensation was nothing in comparison to how Phoebe used to make him feel, but that was just one of the many contrasts between his two friends. Being with Bea was never demanding nor expectant. They just worked well together. Phoebe, however, made him feel tongue-tied and anxious, desperate to appear cooler than he really was.

It was just weird. Crushes to him had always meant being floored in their presence. That was just the natural order of things… right?

Jake and Aeryn had an established flow to their relationship, yet when it came to the actual romance they were both racked with nerves. Then again, Bonnie and Bongo acted as though they'd been together for years. Finn wasn't sure what to think anymore. Were relationships meant to start out with one party being awestruck by the other and work towards comfortability? Or was it better to start off with someone who just felt natural to you? He had always assumed relationships that required less effort would fail due to a lack of passion, but maybe he was wrong. All he knew was that here, in this moment, with all their blemishes and imperfections, Bea was the most beautiful person in the world to him.

His feet continued along the route he'd become accustomed to while he was lost in thought, until he realised they'd arrived at the cafeteria. Finn sat himself on top of one of the rounded lunch tables, listening as Bea began to recount the tale of their day. All of their other friends would be meeting them there once they got out of their own classes. It was almost embarrassing, how excited everyone else was to cheer on the pair of budding Thespians in their first production. He had tried and tried to tell them that he and Bea were not even noticeable parts of the play, but that just seemed to make the others think that they were "far too modest" and "shouldn't be ashamed to show the pride they felt in their work." Finn mentally shook his head at his friends' behaviour. It was like they had all morphed into proud parents or something.

"There they are!"

Finn looked up. Sure enough, Bonnie and Bongo were walking towards them, their interlocked hands swinging back and forth in the small space between them. He wondered what it was like to be that happy with another person at such an intimate depth.

"Look at our little techies," Bonnie said, her voice mimicking a mother trying to be adorable about a small child. The earlier comparison he'd made seemed to be only too accurate. Finn groaned internally, embarrassed for himself and Bonnie alike.

"Do you still have those tickets, Finn?" Bongo asked, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. "Also, are we going to have to sit in a specific spot? I was speaking with Noah earlier and he said there's a particular section in row H where you can't hear anything that's going on. Something about the architecture of the room."

"I think I've heard that the seating is pretty lax. No one actually checks, even though there's seat numbers on the tickets. Just find a place you feel comfortable and take it." He chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. "I think you should buy your tickets from Bea though. They only have two left and I could care less if O'Neill gets mad at me."

"Oh." Bongo thumbed through the notes in his wallet, humming softly to himself. Then, he produced double the amount necessary. "Four tickets, please."

"You don't have to do that," Bea interjected, waving their hands as if to ward away the offer. "I don't want you to have to buy extra tickets for my sake. What are you even going to do with those?"

"It's no problem," Bongo said, reaching a hand out to grab a passer-by. Finn was relieved to see that it was just Guy Carson, and not some other random person. "Here you go. Happy late birthday, buddy."

Guy took the tickets and eyed them sceptically. "What's this now?" He tried to hand the cards back to Bongo. "I don't want to see some dumb play. Keila and I had plans."

"No we didn't," Keila said quickly, trailing behind him. She shot her boyfriend a look. "I'd love to go. Finn and Bea are both in it. Phoebe is as well. We could at lea-"

Guy snorted. "I don't give a fuck about Phoebe."

"You should care. She's dating Marce." Keila glanced at Bonnie when she said it. Finn wasn't sure why, but it seemed like there was more to it than just the simple acknowledgement of her presence.

"Yeah, and it's Marce's job to go to her girlfriend's play. Not mine. Besides, why would I want to see a Christmas play? I'm Jewish."

"Bonnie's an atheist," Bongo jumped in, delighted to side with Keila on the matter. He received a death glare from his friend for the comment.

Keila snatched the tickets from her boyfriend's hand. "I don't care. We're going. That's final."

Guy grumbled something unintelligible, but he didn't protest any further. "Well, when is it?"

"At six o'clock," Finn said. "Bea and I have to go to the auditorium in an hour to prepare everything. You can buy concessions at intermission, so it's not all bad."

Guy bobbed his head slowly. "Right then. Good luck, yeah? Or whatever it is they say in the business."

"Break a leg, I think." Bonnie looked to Finn and Bea for confirmation. They both nodded. "I think there's some kind of theatrical superstition against saying 'good luck'."

Bea chuckled at that. "Theatre kids are a superstitious bunch. I unknowingly said the 'M' word once and at least two students cleared the room muttering Hail Marys under their breath." They rested their head on Finn's shoulder, still laughing. It was innocent, and not the first time they'd ever done it, but it was the first time he felt compelled to wrap an arm around their shoulder. It didn't feel awkward or anything, and he hoped Bea wasn't put off by him either.

"Well, break a leg you guys." Bongo clapped Guy on the shoulder. "Bonnie and I are going out to eat before the play. You two are welcome to come along with us."

Keila didn't scold her boyfriend for the rude comment he made - something about food being the only good thing to come out of being forced to go to a stupid play - she seemed more focused on counting heads. "Where are Marce and Phoebe anyway?"

"Probably in the auditorium." Bea nestled closer to Finn, casually allowing their hand to lay on his knee. He wondered if they too could feel his heart pounding against his chest. "I know I saw them in the hallway just a few minutes ago. Why do you ask?"

"I just figured they would be meeting here with you guys. I wanted to talk to Marce about something before I missed her." Keila linked arms with her boyfriend. "Anyway, I guess it can wait. Cheers, you guys. We'll see you after the play tonight."

Finn waved goodbye to them, watching as they melted into the receding crowd of students. He'd been hoping to see his brother sooner rather than later, but Jake had probably gone home already to gather Finn's change of clothes. It was a more frugal use of his time, but he sort of hoped Jake could have seen the way Bea was acting right now. At least then he could ask his brother what it meant from an objective standpoint. Bonnie had been there, but he would have to wait until later to ask her what she thought. There was nobody now - just the two of them wrapped in each other. Finn wondered if the novelty of this situation had dissolved into awkwardness for the other person involved. He looked at Bea, trying to gauge whether or not he should put some distance between them, only to find them looking back.

For a moment, time seemed to stretch out into infinity, leaving them frozen in this head space where thoughts and decisions alike crashed into each other. He thought he could have done something then, made some kind of move - although what, he didn't know - but the moment came to a screeching halt.

"We should probably go turn in our tickets," Bea said, leaning over to pick up their bag. "I think Phoebe might need my help getting ready as well."

"Yeah," Finn mumbled. He couldn't comprehend the chance he'd missed, but he felt the loss of it all too well.

"You look well fit, mate," Noah said, straightening Finn's bowtie.

"Thank you. I would have never figured out how to put this thing on without you." Finn held his breath, nervous about being in such close proximity to the other boy. When Noah had seen him struggling with his bowtie, he'd graciously volunteered to help. At first, Finn was happy to accept the assistance. Now though, as the other boy's deft hands fastened the material at his neck, he found it hard to think straight.

He probably only felt skittish because, well, Noah was hugely popular at their school, even though Finn couldn't understand why. He was friendly, to be sure, and he certainly got on well with everyone he spoke to, however Noah was the kind of person who seemed to slip under the radar. If you were to ask someone the details of his life, they wouldn't be able to tell you anything. Everybody simply knew him; he was just there. Finn aspired to be that cool one day.

"Any time, Finn." The other boy winked at him. "I've got to go get ready too. I'll see you around."

Finn waved goodbye and exited the boy's dressing room, grinning from ear to ear. Was there such a thing as platonically swooning? That didn't matter - Noah knew his name. He caught Marceline's eye and, realising he probably looked like a huge nerd, tried to will away the smile on his face. Instead of the desired effect, he just made a show of twisting his face this way and that. She raised an eyebrow at him, effectively wiping his expression clear with a swipe of embarrassment.

"Wow, Finn, you look really good in a dinner jacket," Bea said from across the room. The compliment was enough to make him smile again, but at least now he had a good reason to. To be frank, he'd been worried about the formality in which O'Neill asked the technical crew to dress. They were the ones that would be out on the floor more, but it didn't seem necessary. At least, knowing that he looked good gave him a sense of pride, as well as the assurance that he would be able to wear the same dashing outfit for prom.

He glanced around the backroom of the auditorium, hoping the familiarity of the disorganised order surrounding him would help quell the apprehensions that threatened to return to the forefront of his mind. His eyes drifted from the shelves in one corner which were stacked to the brim with props and books, to the thousands of costumes hanging on rails fastened high overhead. It was homely here, in the cluttered chaos framed with white walls and a costumed decorative border, and he'd grown to love it. All the jokes and laughs had in this room, all of the shared experiences, the shared sense of community made him want to take part in another theatre production. This was a world that he would have never discovered if it weren't for him fancying Phoebe so much, and even though things didn't work out quite like he'd hoped, he was glad for the opportunity.

"Are you guys ready for the play?" he asked. Phoebe was already in costume, waiting for Bea to finish untangling her stage mic. She was seated on one of the furniture props, her posture tall and straight so as not to ruffle her dress. Marceline and Bea had both curled up on the sofa across from her. Finn wondered if it was okay with O'Neill for Phoebe's girlfriend to be backstage with them.

"I am," Phoebe said, smiling slightly. Regardless of her own words, she didn't look ready. In fact, she just looked nervous. There were beads of sweat forming on her forehead, noticeable through her makeup. Even though Finn had never been with her before a performance, he didn't feel as though this was normal. Phoebe was too relaxed normally to feel anxious about a play she knew so well. No one else seemed to be concerned about it though, so he didn't bring it up. If the others thought this was normal, then it probably was. He was probably just over-thinking things.

"Your eye is healing nicely, Marceline," Finn observed. Part of him just wanted to take his mind off all the other worries nagging at him, but it really was looking much better. All of her recent battle scars made her look so badass. Then again, he truly believed that she could wear a bin bag and still look like a hero in his eyes.

"It's getting there. I'm finally able to see out of it again." Her lips curled up in a smirk. "Probably didn't help that you got gravy in it the other day."

Finn could feel his face flush. They'd been flinging food at each other during lunch when he bragged that he could launch a liquid-like substance without missing, every single time. It turned out that stoking his own ego was fuel for failure.

He wished that there was some way to undo that particular collective memory. "Sorry again about that."

Their conversation came to an abrupt close when the double doors to the auditorium swung inward. O'Neill strode through, as always bringing about a stern sense of authority. "Marceline, leave. We're about to start."

"Right," she mumbled. The languid way that she got to her feet earned Finn's second-hand anxiety. Marceline had zero respect for people in power, teachers especially, and it made him acutely aware of the intense, emotionless stare that O'Neill kept trained on her. "Break their legs," he heard her say as she leaned down to kiss Phoebe on the lips - right in front of the director. Finn wished she would stop trying to provoke the wrath of the theatre professor. He still counted his lucky stars that they hadn't been caught skipping in the auditorium several months earlier. Phoebe didn't seem to mind her girlfriend's blatant disobedience, although to be fair, nothing in the world could make O'Neill dislike his star pupil. Still, Phoebe shouldn't allow Marceline to test the waters, Finn thought.

"Quicker," O'Neill warned.

"Cheers everybody," she grumbled, leaving them to have their pre-performance meeting. Marceline: exit, stage left.

As if the movement was ingrained in them, the rest of the cast and crew gathered around in a circle. Finn fell into his favoured spot between Phoebe and Bea. All eyes were on O'Neill now.

"As you all know, the Christmas play is the most revered event of the year. It is also the only performance that takes place on a single day. I always expect the best out of each and every one of you, but tonight is our night to truly shine. Give the audience the seasonal cheer they've come to see." He smiled for a brief moment, but the expression was replaced with contempt. "And do not forget that even when you are backstage, you must remain completely silent. I won't stand for another production to be interrupted by foolish giggles."

"Yes, sir," came an ashamed chorus of girls. Finn didn't really have to worry about interrupting the play from his placement. He did, however, have to keep a careful eye out for his cues.

After seeing the play performed so many times already, the slow parts had become tedious and sometimes slipped into the monotony of extraneous sound. So far, he'd never missed his signals, but his greatest fear was that he would mess everything up on the one night that mattered.

He wished the other students well and waved goodbye to his friends before he left the room. Unlike the actors and other crew members, he and the sound crew were expected to be in their places as soon as the audience was seated.

Walking out of the well-lit backroom and into the void space behind the stage scenery was strikingly different. The sound crew left without him, insensitive for the length of time it took his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Finn took slow, quiet steps in the direction of the backstage entrance. There were small bits of glow-in-the-dark cello tape stuck to the ground to guide him in the right direction, but he'd be damned if he could actually see them at all. The only advantage that came to him was when one of the other students opened the back door, granting Finn a couple of seconds of light to catch up with them.

Once he was out in the hall, he breathed a sigh of relief. It would be his luck to accidentally trip into one of the painted flats and send the entire set crashing down. Tonight was going to be a good night after all, he told himself.

The hallway that connected the auditorium to the main entrance of the school was eerie at night. The familiar corridor, one that he passed through every day to get to music class, seemed desolate without the usual milling about of students. Finn's footsteps seemed to echo in the emptiness, and the sparse lighting made the walls feel like they were closing in on him.

Despite the unearthly atmosphere, he walked with his head held high. It was going to be a good night, he kept telling himself. Nothing would go wrong, and he would be the best spotlighter Whitewater had ever seen.

There was no one in sight when he turned the corner. Finn opened the door to the auditorium and slipped inside, careful not to make a sound. The lights had been lowered already, and the curtains were closed. We're off to a good start, he decided, and climbed up onto his platform.

From his position, he could only see the backs of the audience's heads as they talked to their neighbours and friends. Their chattering died down when the stage lights flashed on and off - a signal that he'd been taught meant the start of the play.

The production opened with a short introduction from O'Neill, welcoming everyone to the performance. He told a few well-received jokes, asked everyone to silence their cell phones, and walked off the stage.

When the curtains parted, Phoebe fell into motion - flawlessly portraying her role as the main character, while also speaking to the audience and setting the tone for the evening. It was a Christmas story like any other, and even though musicals had always annoyed him previously, Finn rather enjoyed this one. He only wished that he was seeing the tale come to life for the first time alongside the audience. At this point, Finn was almost completely desensitised to the emotional weight of the play. Every action and reaction had been implanted in his memory: turn on the spotlight, follow the characters downstage - now to the right, turn off the spotlight. Wait for about thirty minutes. Pull the lever that switches the filter, making the light more focused on one person. Then, wait for Phoebe to signal him in.

The audience laughed and cried, moved by the story developing before them. He found a comforting sort of pleasure in seeing their reactions, knowing that he could not experience the performance with the kind of emotion it was meant to carry.

Finn recognised his final cue and flicked up the lever on the spotlight, shining the bright beam it emitted at Phoebe as he had done a hundred times prior in dress rehearsal. This was the pivotal moment in the play - when the lonely businesswoman finds that the only thing she truly needed was the company of a ragtag group of orphans. Phoebe, or Beth as she was called in the script, would sing a heart-warming song about holiday cheer. The play would find its resolution in her adopting the little misfits and showing them the loving home that she'd never had herself.

However, as the spotlight shone brightly on her, something was clearly amiss. In one hundred rehearsals, Phoebe had never missed a cue, yet now she was only standing there. This stasis went on for one beat, then two. Her jaw went slack, and Finn thought that surely she was about to spring back into character… but she didn't. Phoebe instead began to shake uncontrollably - her arms and legs and head twitching unnaturally. Her body dropped to the ground like dead weight, still flopping about like a dying fish.

She's having a seizure! Finn realised when the paralysis of shock wore off of him. He shut the spotlight off - leaving the room in total darkness - and jumped off the platform, nearly tripping in the process. Dragging his hand along the wall for guidance, Finn ran to the front of the auditorium. He'd only just found his way up the stairs to the stage when someone flipped on the overhead lights.

Bea was frantic - eyes wide, mind frazzled - but they continued to hold their hands under Phoebe's head to keep it from slamming against the ground with one of her violent movements. The other cast members were crowding around them to see what was going on, but it only served to add fuel to the mass hysteria that swept over the room.

"Back off!" Finn shouted, holding his hands out. "Give her some space! Someone call an ambulance!" Seeing everyone panic at the mention of an ambulance freaked him out more than he thought was already possible.

Marceline's voice could be heard over the clamorous mob, demanding to be let through. Her distinctively scarred hands forcefully shifted aside the people blocking the audience from getting a better view, and as the rest of the cast came to realise who it was that was so desperately trying to reach through them, they parted ways for her. She was white as a ghost, a frightening contrast to her usual caramel complexion. "Phoebe," she squeaked, dropping to her knees to hold her girlfriend's hand. "It's okay. I'm right here." She kissed Phoebe's hand, openly weeping when she spoke to the unresponsive body shaking below her. "We're going to get you out of here. It's going to be okay."

The next several hours seemed to pass by in a haze. Finn could vaguely recall Phoebe being loaded onto a stretcher and taken away in the ambulance. He knew he rode here with Marceline and an older man - Simon, if he were to guess, although he could not remember if pleasantries had been exchanged at all. Not that it was the most important thing right now. He barely even noticed when Phoebe's father met them in the A&E waiting room. The details just seemed to fall to the wayside.

Finn wasn't even sure if he was welcome there. Marceline and Mr. Edan were both much more closely acquainted with Phoebe than he was, but she was his friend nonetheless. He felt a pang of guilt for her sudden condition - why hadn't he told anyone about the way she'd been acting earlier? He just couldn't stand by and go about his day normally when he was burdened with the knowledge that he might have contributed, however little, to Phoebe's current state. It was somehow more comforting to be at the source of the action, if only just to learn that she was okay.

He didn't even know how long he'd been sitting there, but every now and again he'd catch himself staring unblinkingly at the wall in front of him, his head involuntarily replaying Phoebe's collapse.

Finn tried to distract his brain from the terrifying scene that had been spotlighted in front of everyone by thinking of other things. He started recounting all the people who had stopped by, one-by-one, to check up on them at the hospital. Bonnie and Bongo had come with offerings of their leftover takeaway food, but Finn politely declined. He didn't think he had the appetite for anything tonight. Bea had arrived via Jake and Aeryn, who had stopped by on the way to drop them off at home. Bea had been just as shaken as he was, but he was glad for their brief company all the same.

Everyone wanted to talk to him - all except for Marceline, whose colour still hadn't returned to her face - but no one dared to ask about Phoebe. They were too afraid to know. Finn couldn't fault anyone on that - he was scared shitless himself.

There was not much else anyone could do but wait, which was perhaps the most agonising part.

Finn waited and waited, until his growing restlessness overpowered him and compelled him to move. He'd lost track of how long he and Marceline had been sitting there with Mr. Edan, but the act of getting up and stretching reconnected him with his internal clock and he was suddenly very aware of how late it seemed to be. Thankfully, there was an alcove where an expensive looking coffee maker had been set up.

He examined the machine for a moment, trying to reach through the fogginess of his mind to understand how to work it. Apparently it was one of those machines that took small containers in lieu of a filter or teabag, and served single cup portions of your favourite drink.

Finn rifled through the drawer of minuscule drink containers and picked a flavoured coffee for himself as well as two caffeinated teas for Marceline and Mr. Edan; he wasn't sure if they had a preference, but tea was always a safe bet. Then, he popped the containers in one at a time, holding a cardboard cup underneath the spout. If this had been under any other circumstance he would have been awestruck by the sheer brilliance of the machine, but right now his body was working on autopilot.

Juggling the beverages between both of his hands, he brought them back to Marceline and Mr. Edan. Whether or not they took his offering, he wasn't sure. He hadn't even remembered to add cream and sugar to his own drink, which didn't matter in the end; his senses were numb to his need for caffeine.

Eventually, the door into the main building opened, and a kindly nurse poked her head out. She smiled sweetly, but there was no real joy behind her eyes. "Mr. Edan? May I have a word with you?"

The burly man stood to meet her. If his height didn't command a sense of power, his strong, deep voice certainly did. "Yes?"

"Well, Mr. Edan, we have bad news." The nurse cleared her throat, her voice lowering to just above a whisper. The waiting room was small, but Finn still had to strain to hear the conversation happening only a few feet away from him. "I'm afraid we've found traces of benzodiazepines in your daughter's urine. Judging by Phoebe's condition, it's safe to say that she is going through a severe case of withdrawal."

Mr. Edan had his back turned to Finn, but he could only imagine the intense glare on the man's face. "What do you mean? What are these benzodiazepines?" he asked, much too loud for privacy's sake.

The nurse trembled, intimidated by the anger and frustration in Mr. Edan's voice. "It's a type of medication, sir," she said, never raising her own volume to match his. "We see it abused more often than not; Phoebe is not the only case. The silver lining in this is that she has stopped taking the medication on her own accord, although it is unclear whether this was by choice or because her supply was cut off."

"Well? That's good news, isn't it?" Mr. Edan spat, his tone sharp.

"Not quite, sir. Judging by the severity of her current symptoms and the outcome of her urine test, we have reason to believe that Phoebe has been abusing these tablets for a very, very long time. Quitting such an addiction so suddenly, especially one of this magnitude, can be life threatening. Your daughter is lucky to be alive, sir."

Finn felt a shift in the presence to his right. Marceline had been as still as a mouse, reaching to hear every word, just as he had. Now, she was trembling. Her hands were balled into fists in her lap, her knuckles turning white. He could hear her breaths - shaky and uneven - Marceline was… crying?

He was about to ask her if she was okay when she jumped to her feet and stormed out the front door of the waiting room. Finn shot a glance back at Mr. Edan and the nurse, smiling apologetically in an attempt to smooth their confused looks, before running out the door behind her.

"Where are you going?!" he called after her. Marceline was ten paces ahead of him, her body rigid and her hands still clenched into fists at her sides. "Marceline? Come on! We've got to go back!" But his words did not reach her. Something in her body language screamed for him to leave her be, but he couldn't let her be alone again. Not after he'd failed her with Ash. So, he followed her, watching to make sure that she was safe while still trying to coax her into coming back with him. In the darkness, Finn felt his bones turn brittle, crushing under the weight of the biting frost. He wished he'd brought a heavier coat with him.

When she came upon a litter bin, Marceline kicked it, screaming in frustration at the metal receptacle. What it had done to earn her fury, he did not know, but in an instant her single act of rage devolved into a flurry of punches and kicks on the unsuspecting pavement ornament.

"What are you doing?!" Finn tried to duck under her arms to grab her, to try to calm her down, but she'd seen him coming. Marceline spun on her heel and punched him square in the face.

A disorienting surge of pain shot through his nose and made his eyes water. He had never been hit before; the dizzying sensation knocked him off his feet. Finn sat for a moment, in shock of what had just happened. His head had already erupted into a splitting ache.

The shame of unleashing her anger on an innocent bystander put a stop to her rampage. "Finn, I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to!" Her widened eyes were bloodshot, her cheeks streaked with tears.

"It's okay," he said, cautiously touching his nose. When his hand came away, blood coated his fingers. "It's okay. Just come back with me. Please? She needs you. Now more than ever."

Marceline shook her head. A loud whine came from her throat when she tried to speak. It seemed to take every ounce of energy she had left, because she fell to her knees, holding her head and sobbing.

Finn crawled over to her, tentatively wrapping his arms around his shaking friend. He tried to keep his face turned away so as not to get his blood on her, but in the bare light of the street lamps he couldn't tell how successful he was. "It's okay. Phoebe's going to be okay. They'll take care of her."

"You don't understand!" Marceline sobbed louder. "It's my fault!" The admission came over and over again in wails and screams so loud they cracked her voice. Finn had never seen emotion so raw before. She was sobbing, shaking, beating her fist against his chest.

It was nothing compared to her punching him, and he didn't mind. He just held her close to him, cooing softly to balance her distraught wails. Finn wished he knew how else to comfort her, but the echoes of Marceline's cries were as jumbled and chaotic as his thoughts.