Real talk: And we're back!
A couple of announcements before you start on this chapter. You all keep asking me about Phoebe. It's literally the #1 comment/question I get. So let me say something about Phoebe. She has an important role in Opening Act. She has an even bigger, vital role in Opening Act's sequel. You'll be getting a lot of Phoebe, don't worry. But, like I said, because I write for you guys while the Musicology trilogy will be completed regardless of anything else (we're in too deep now) my motivation comes from you.
Case in point: you may have noticed that I'm writing about the same speed I wrote Rehearsal, despite saying I'd be a lot slower. Why? Because you guys give me so much love it motivates me and makes me really happy to know that I make other people happy.
The #2 comment/question I get? You'll learn about Lady Evil's message sooner than you think. Not this chapter, but sooner than you think. I'm very much looking forward to that chapter. Probably more than any of you.
Content warnings:
So many feels
Beginning of a panic attack
A bad word (in German!)
Schwabl is the real hero
Description of cognitive dissonance with physical symptoms
Light implications of lady sexing (probably the lightest I've ever done, but still there)
Is that... is that Bonnibel and Marceline briefly getting along?!
"He had one job. One. That was it."
No one said it out loud, but they kind of sort of agreed with Marceline's ire. The plan had been for Hunson to open a portal directly at Marceline's porch door to limit her exposure to the rest of the world until Finn, Jake, and Bonnibel collectively agreed she was ready. Unfortunately, like the rest of their plans it seemed, this one went awry, in that the portal instead opened in the middle of the Grasslands.
"One. Job."
Objectively speaking, all three knew the area intimately, so it wasn't like they were hopelessly lost. Finn and Jake were residents, after all, and it wasn't like Marceline's cave house was far away; in any other circumstance it would be a couple hours tops, and that's assuming someone - namely Jake - would get distracted at least once or twice by something edible, or some poor sap who need to be rescued or otherwise aided. But these weren't ideal circumstances. They were, in fact, less than ideal circumstances, because they were travelling with someone afflicted with considerable mood swings, the potential for great destruction, and a fleeting understanding of the difference between the real Ooo and the one that lay dormant within her subconscious. The truth was as simple as it was irksome: the three would have to make their way across the landscape, in the dark, while directing Marceline without taking their eyes off of her. Though he knew better than to voice the suggestion, Jake was sorely tempted to tie a string to her ankle, lest she wander off. A fair concern; she did love wandering.
"I mean… he got us pretty close. You know, for a guy that can't even leave the Nightosphere unless he's summoned and has been to your house like... twice." Finn sounded hopeful that logic would win out over Marceline's temper, a difficult to imagine circumstance even in the best of times. Nonetheless, the three had a plan to stick to, even if it was one the vampire didn't know the full details of; Bonnibel had been quite clear that, in many cases, the mere act of observation could change the outcome, and thus if Marceline knew all of the fine details it may change the course of her recovery. It all sounded very science-y to the brothers so they only smiled and nodded, a response that would always be respectable.
Besides, the plan made sense, even to the decidedly unscientific gallant heroes. Step one: Bring Marceline to her cave house, which had been neutral territory in her mind, where the bad guys couldn't even get through the door, a building that hadn't even changed all that much except for some new furniture and an altered color scheme. Step two: Convince her to eat something, because Bonnibel had quietly voiced a suspicion to the boys that her mate wasn't eating. After all, she didn't need to within her mind. Who's to say she remembered she had to in the real world, especially if she briefly didn't remember the Sky Ball of Death? Jake had hastily agreed, the memory of his ladybro almost gutting him to eat his inside-guts forever burned into his mind. Step three: See if the change in scenery jogs her memory any and, if so, help her work through it in a safe space, all the while hoping that the unearthed memory was positive for a change. Step four: Convince her to sleep before dawn, because there was no way in fuzz she was ready for 'day'. This, of course, had a similar problem to step two, in that sleep had also been unnecessary in her mind-prison, but the princess had lulled Unifier to sleep and hoped that the same principle carried over. If she was lucky. Secretly, Bonnibel had a step five: convince her to return to the castle, but she had yet to mention it to her champions. It may just be wishful thinking, and she had a life policy against blind hope. Cold logic had always won out over such things before, and this would be no different unless the situation demonstrated otherwise.
It had been a clever plan, but now there was a new step one, and it involved traversing the Grasslands, and who knew how long that would take, because the group was still standing around, watching their friend. Their friend who was clearly on edge, surveying the area with sharp eyes aided by perfect night vision, axe tightly clutched. Finn frowned, some part of him recognizing this behavior from somewhere. But where? "What's up, Marce?"
At first the half-demon said nothing, responding just before Finn could verbally prod her once more. "...I don't know. Something. Something's wrong."
She sounded focused, as if she were concentrating intently. Listening closely, not even blinking if she could help it. Finn quickly ran down the list of differences between the Real Grasslands and the Fake Grasslands in his mind, but it was Jake who caught it. Then revealed it tactlessly, as was the style of the times. "Probably 'cause of the monsters in your mindmeats."
That got her attention and she blinked, turning briefly to him as a signal that she was listening before returning to her visual patrol. "Monsters? I thought it was just me in my brain." Her tone was skeptical, sprinkled with an undertone of 'what else aren't you telling me?' A fair if not silent accusation, all things considered.
Although she wasn't looking Jake shrugged anyway, as was the style of the times. "Sorry, forgot about 'em." Only half a lie; he had actually mentally blocked them out for his own sanity, but if Finn and Bubblegum weren't going to solve the mystery and start the journey… well, he did, and that was that. "But yeah, there were monsters there. Dunno how many, we only saw a couple. One of you called them 'repressed thoughts'."
"...Repressed thoughts." She sounded both disbelieving and confused, and she almost looked to Bonnibel for an explanation, or at least a definition. Almost, but not quite.
"Yeah. She said that everyone has these thoughts that are so messed up and you know they're so messed up that you just push 'em down and try to block 'em out."
That was odd enough for her to look to the dog, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "I don't think I have anything like that."
"You definitely do."
"Oh yeah."
"Big time."
"They def tried to waste us."
"They were jerks."
"Total jerks-"
"ENOUGH!," she snarled at the brothers. "I get it! Geeze! What's that got to do with anything?!"
Jake shrank into himself at the explosion and level of vitriol, memories of Finn almost being decapitated only an hour and change prior still fresh in his mind, his brother's back-pat doing nothing for his shaken nerves. Help instead came from an unexpected source. An unexpected source who knew she was gambling, tempting fate, taking a risk in the worst sort of say. Or at least in the top 50 worst sort of ways. It was hard to tell lately.
"Marcy…" The vampire whipped her head to the candy golem, hand clutched tightly around her bass's staff. Bonnibel had hoped to share the reality of the situation with her lover after she had healed a bit more, but watching her being on edge in a world she didn't understand was too much. You deserve to know. "Please understand. Although the three of us spent only a week and some in your mind helping you escape you spent the better part of a century. The world you lived in was cruel and dangerous. Even the landscape could try to kill you. I suspect you're so agitated now because some part of you remembers the hostile world you were trapped in, and it's anticipating being attacked at any moment." Her smile was understanding. "I can assure you that there is nothing dangerous here, in the actual Grasslands, but your reaction isn't based on-" don't say logic, Bon, you know what it'd imply to her "-objective reality. It's a deep instinct, born from a hundred years of fighting to survive in a malicious plane of existence. It developed with good reason, and while you were there it saved your life. It's not applicable here, but you don't just unlearn such things. Survival instincts simply do not function that way. It will take time, but you'll see. You're safe now."
Marceline stared at her, gaze unwavering. Then she turned away, a soft growl in the back of her throat. "I don't believe you. I know what I sense. Something's out there." You've all just gone soft. What's wrong with you dweebs?
Bonnibel had anticipated that reaction. What she hadn't anticipated was for her vampire to not blow up at her, as she had at Finn and Jake. Perhaps because she was so stunned at being psycho-analyzed, or perhaps for some more favorable reason the young scientist wasn't sure, but she certainly wasn't going to question it now. Instead she nodded, the understanding smile not fading. "I know, Marcy. This is Ooo. Undoubtedly, something is out there somewhere, but nothing's out there here. Right guys?" She turned to Finn and Jake. Thankfully, after everything, they were getting quite good at catching on and, being illustrious adventurers, their reassurances stood a far better chance at being effective.
"Yup! We checked before coming to get you!"
"Nothin' out there but the trees and the breeze and the bees and-"
Jake continued to prattle, but Marceline tuned him out. There was no amount of reassurance that could appease her and Bonnibel knew it, at least deep down, where her cold logic often acted as a double-edged sword. Her queen could fixate in the best of times, and this was the least of times. If they were on better terms there were strategies she knew of to at least distract Marceline, or at least give her some other outlet for her anxiety, but they weren't that close again yet and she struggled for some way to break her preoccupation, because if nothing else they needed to beat the sun back to the cave house. She had a plan, and Princess Bubblegum was all about plans.
Wanna hint, dork?
Yes, Rechte, very much so.
Problem's not with what she's doing. Problem's with where she is.
Where she…?
And then Bonnibel understood, and would wonder for the rest of the journey how she could have been so blind. "I think I understand the problem, Marcy." The vampire didn't look, but there was an unmistakable ear twitch. She was listening, whether she wanted to betray that or not. "If there is something out there we're exposed. That instinctive part of you that senses something amiss knows it could, at this point in time, strike from anywhere. That leaves us with two options. We could go searching for whatever it is you sense, or we can find cover. I know you prefer to hunt in normal circumstances, but this is a highly unusual situation. Perhaps if we head towards your cave house we can take shelter there. Then, if on the way a threat presents itself, you will have every opportunity to tear it apart."
Her back-up came almost immediately, and she added it to the growing list of things to thank her gallant champions for. "I think she's right, Marce. Me and Jake do that a lot. If there's something out there it doesn't know you know, you know? If you act like everything's rhombus and it messes with you we already got the upper hand and can mess it up before it messes us up!" Bad guys usually aren't the brainiest."
Marceline remained silent, hands becoming fierce claws in her surveying, but as much as she hated it their logic was sound; if she went to hunt whatever it was wherever it was she'd be on enemy turf, especially since she didn't fully understand this new Ooo yet. Tear it apart, huh? I like the sound of that. "...Fine. But it's mine. You stay out of it when I beat it to-"
Finn nodded. "Yup, all yours. You ready to head to the house?"
"...Fine," she spoke through gritted teeth.
It was enough for Jake, who grinned. "Finally! Let's do this!" In an overwhelming sense of deja vu the dog abused his magical powers yet again, growing to twenty times his size, scooping his brother and princess up in the process. Marceline, on the other hand, ignored his non-verbal offer for a ride. It didn't deter him and he raised an eyebrow. Uh uh. You're stayin' where we can watch you. "Come on Marce, hitch a ride on your best bro with my ladybro and actual bro."
She eyed him, almost suspiciously. "...You want me to protect your brother."
Okay, not what I was going for, but that works. "Yup! That's exactly the reason! No ulterior motive whatsoever!"
In any other circumstance she would have seen the clear lie in that assertion, because, seriously, come on. But she wasn't operating at a higher level of thought. After everything that happened it was abundantly obvious that this paranoia, this fixation, this aggression was rooted in something deeper, more primitive, that Bonnibel's analysis had been spot on. More dangerous, but also more predictable, and after one suspicious glance Marceline floated away, leaving Jake the privacy to smirk and non-physically swell with pride when he felt her land on his back. Nailed it.
Settled now on Jake's back Marceline continued to scan the horizon, searching for an enemy her friends knew didn't exist in reality, only in her mind. There would be no point in convincing her of that, of course; the hallmark of delusion being that you can't disprove a delusion. Bonnibel watched her carefully, every movement, every muscle twitch, and could pinpoint the moment her rage ebbed once more, only to be replaced with The Other Stuff. She felt a pang in her heart, knowing that, deep down, she had been waiting for exactly that to broach the obvious. And yet again I wait for a moment of weakness to take advantage of you. Please understand that my intention this time is not to manipulate you for selfish reasons, but because I lov- "Do you remember this place, Marcy? The Grasslands?"
The vampire was quiet as she felt herself relax, not from feeling at ease but from feeling the fight seep out of her. She hated the mood swings, the dredging feeling of helplessness, the lack of control that came with it, The Other Stuff that ate at what little sanity she retained. This world was foreign, but she felt pressured to remember it from all angles. Logically, she knew her friends - and they were her friends - were trying to help her, and she begrudgingly had to admit that even Bonnibel was putting on a really good show of caring - so good it was almost convincing - but everything felt wrong and it made her skin crawl. She didn't want to think about that question, but knew they would harass her until she did. If it would appease them and allow her to return to the Nightosphere she would try.
"...In a way. I think." She swallowed hard, The Other Stuff that she didn't understand twisting in her like a knife. "It feels like a place I used to live, but…" She pulled her legs to her, suddenly feeling terribly exposed. Marceline knew what the problem was, but she also knew that voicing it would make it all the more real, because while The Other Stuff may remove the fog of rage it replaced it with a mist of despair, and with that despair came a clarity she didn't want, didn't ask for, but couldn't shed. "...The humans left just when the Vampire King finally showed himself. I held him off while they escaped. It was me he wanted anyway, I just didn't know it. I was Turned while they…" She took a deep breath, held it, then exhaled. "When I finally resurrected they were gone. I knew they were, but… I still looked for them. At the firepit. Where we gathered wood. The spot by the lake I taught the kids to play Two Bread Tom's guitar because he was a lame teacher. They were the closest thing I had to family so I looked everywhere, tried to stop thinking 'hey, maybe' they're around the corner. I tried to crash there when it got light, but with them gone the entire place that I had spent a long time living in felt… I dunno. Distant and empty. Like… I wasn't supposed to be there. Like I wasn't welcome there anymore." Her hand tightened around her arm, nails digging into it from the effort of keeping herself focused. In the present. "This place… it feels like that."
Bonnibel and Finn could only listen silently, as one of the people they cared most about revealed something so personal, so heartbreaking. Bubblegum's hand clenched tightly from the strain of not betraying any emotion, of not being allowed to hold her and protect that vulnerability, because in all of their centuries together, as friends, lovers, mates, Marceline had never told her about that. You've been keeping that to yourself for over six centuries? She yearned to say something, but had no idea how to even begin. Instead she looked to Finn, who had always been so insightful in matters involving trauma to the heartguts, but the boy looked unusually solemn. It took longer than she'd like to admit to realize why. Oh, yes. He's descended from the humans Marceline saved. Her gaze turned back to Marceline, but her lover was staring at the Grasslands dejectedly. Before realizing what she was doing Bonnibel rose from her seat, approaching the queen with slow, deliberate movements. "Marcy?" No response, not even a sarcastic grunt. "I'm so sorry, Marceline. I honestly cannot imagine how you must feel being here." It was true; she had expected the anger, the wrath, The Other Stuff. But memories, untainted from her time trapped in the wasteland? She had never considered that the tragedy that befell Marceline could actually stir memories, real memories, but then Marceline seemed to be a magnet for such things.
She sat beside her, politely disregarding her tensing, because she knew the half-demon, and somewhere along the way of her century of Unlife she had grown to assume she would only find herself alone, surrounded by a sea of graves. Now Bonnibel was beginning to understand why. "This world… I know it doesn't look like it, or feel like it just yet, but this is your home. I don't expect you to believe me, but we're not leaving." She looked up just in time to see Finn sit at her other side.
"Marce… you know I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you, right?," he asked quietly. It was a rhetorical question, of course, merely an acknowledgment of a profound truth. "If you hadn't saved those humans I wouldn't be here. I know we both know that, we just don't really talk about it. You know I found all those other humans on those islands. They're there, happy and alive and they all have families because of you."
Her laugh was forced. And weak. "Kid, stop."
He shook his head. "Nah, Marce. I know we both know… but we don't really talk about it, huh?"
"Because it doesn't matter." Now her tension was for an all-too different reason, the rage beginning to flow back. But if it wasn't going to deter Bonnibel it wouldn't deter him.
"Marce, it does matter. Yeah, maybe before it wasn't worth talking about, but it is now. You know why? Because you helped make sure those humans had a safe place to go, so you helped make this place our home, too!"
Her eyes closed, clearly making every effort to crush the sense of rage building. "It. Doesn't. Matter."
"No, Marcy. He's right."
She turned to glare at Bonnibel, but her heart wasn't in it. She didn't want to remember the humans, or her Turning, or how when she was little the Grasslands weren't the Grasslands, they were streets, roads, tar, they should be walking on tar why was there grass- She hissed, eyes closing tightly as a bolt of pain ripped through her head hand gripping on her arm hard enough for the cracking of crushed bone to be audible, not that she felt it. By the time it passed, by the time her eyes had opened, the rage had subsided and she realized that both Finn and Bonnibel were watching her, wearing matching looks of concern. She sighed, also not feeling her arm mend itself. Wait for it-
"Marce, what the duckling?!"
She closed her eyes again, exhaustion taking up residence where her anger had been. "That… happens sometimes. I think when my brain thinks the world is one way but it's another way. Hurts a lot, then makes me tired."
Bonnibel nodded absently, mind turning over this information a thousand ways. Cognitive dissonance symptoms manifesting with such physical intensity to make even you flinch from pain? She took comfort in knowing that every piece of information she gathered meant one more clue on how to help her vampire. Once upon a time she would have proudly voiced this epiphany to her friends. But I see now how that could be considered tactless. "It'll be alright Marcy." She snorted in both sarcasm and disbelief. Ah, there she is. "I know you don't believe me, but it's true." A garnet eye watched her warily, but that was all the resistance offered.
"What do you see out there, Marce? Anything else?"
The vampire looked up, back to the wastel- No. Grasslands. Come on, Marceline. Don't be a donkus. "...There's grass, isn't there? I keep thinking there's roads, but it's gotta be grass. 'Cause… 'Grasslands'." She touched her bass, using the cool metal to ground herself, tracing the blade's edge with her thumb. It could never cut her, nor anyone of her blood, but she knew the thing was almost impossibly sharp. On more than one occasion she'd had to separate Bonnibel - back when she was Bonnibel - from her family heirloom because the younger woman just had to know what made it so sharp when she never saw her best friend with a whetstone. Despite herself, she found the memory fond. "There's… a lake around here, right? I think I remember that."
Finn nodded encouragingly. "Yeah, Butterscotch Lake. It's not far." He twisted, pointing towards the west, though all she saw was grass. "It's in front of P-bub's cabin."
She tensed at that, though she wasn't sure why. Something about the cabin, even thinking about the cabin, caused a headache, a pain of an all-too-different sort. It made no sense. But then… very little made sense in her Unlife, and she pushed it away. Her eyes closed, her cheek resting on her knees. "Yeah… I think I remember the lake. Hurts to remember the cabin…," she trailed off.
Hurts? Nah, you misheard, guy. She definitely said 'hard to'. Cabin was neutral turf, nothing and no one lived there. "Yeah, I think that makes sense. We haven't been there in awhile, huh Marce?" No answer. "Marce?" He turned back, alarmed… but not for long. "Guess she was tired, huh?"
Bonnibel smiled, but she wasn't looking at her champion because Marceline had fallen asleep, finally landing on Jake's back, unable to even maintain her floating with her level of fatigue. "I'm surprised that she's managed to stay awake for this long, to be honest. Her fortitude is impressive…"
"...But you'd wish she'd stop putting up a front, huh?"
He's got ya there, Bon. "I don't think she can help it, but yes. For now, let's let her sleep. I can only imagine the mental strain of needing to fight against your own mind and how taxing that must manifest physically. She has a spectacular pain tolerance, but she'll need rest for her reintroduction to her house."
Truer words, man. Finn turned, watching the scenery before him. Having a pretty good idea himself as to how taxing fighting with yourself could really be. "How we doing, Jake?"
A furry mouth and ear stretched back towards the group, and Bonnibel instinctively covered her half-demon's sensitive ears from the cacophony of noise that was so often Jake. "Doin' good! Probs gonna be there soon. Gotta rely on my fabulous sense of smell in the dark. How's Marce?"
"Fell asleep, so we're letting her catch some z's. We're hoping that some rest will help with… you know. Everything."
"I hear ya."
As silence befell the group Bonnibel turned to observe the world around them. The universe, or whatever powers that exist wherein, had finally granted them a break and it was a fantastic night to reintroduce Marceline to Ooo. There was no tension in the air, only a light breeze that reminded her that the seasons would rotate soon, would slowly become cooler and darker. It stirred the grass below Jake's paws, the soft, green grass, not at all yellow and grey, as she imagined it still looked to her vampire. She slowly turned to her other half, watching her fondly, just taking a moment to appreciate the situation. Whereas Past Bubblegum saw only the laundry list of what was ahead of them through a harsh, clinical lens Present Bubblegum knew better, had learned to appreciate the little things that made up her life. The grass she hadn't realized was so soft. The calm night air. The light of the moon and stars. The distance howls of the wolf Marceline so often ran with - as a wolf no less. Such simplicity. Is this how you think of the world, Marcy? She had to admit that she could see the appeal. Before this tragedy she saw such mindsets as counter-productive and a waste of time, but now she saw it as a form of clarity, a way of staying sane in a world - especially her world - boggled down by The Big Stuff in life.
Even now Marceline looked peaceful as she slept, and Bonnibel was certain the clear skies, the ever-present moon and stars, were at least partly responsible, but she also liked to think that the mere presence of her friends was a contributing factor, that she knew they loved her and would protect her. There was no tell-tale rise and fall to her chest, but she looked calm all the same, and the princess reached over to carefully lay her best friend's treasured bass at her feet, not wanting to risk it slipping from her fingers. Without meaning to she herself inched closer, putting herself within arm's reach of the other woman. Just in case. In case of what? She'd think of some excuse later.
"Alright, guys. We're here!"
Glob it, Jake. Because the hero's voice was loud even by her standards, and it caused the vampire to stir.
"What's…"
Bonnibel felt a pang in her heart, because freshly woken the strain in her voice was even more apparent. "We're at the cave, Marcy. Ready?"
Garnet eyes blinked the sleep away, taking in the sight before them instead. Yes, it was her cave, she remembered that much. She knew that gaping maw of an opening, the old stone beneath her calloused fingers, even without touching it. Without responding Marceline picked up her bass and floated down to the ground, scrutinizing the entrance. But nothing had been threatening about it then, and nothing was threatening about it now. Well, except that she felt like an alien in a home they promised was her home, even if it did just feel lonely as the Grasslands. "So we just… go in?"
"Yup!" And then Finn and Bonnibel were behind her, Jake shrinking to his normal size to join them. She paid them no mind, still intent on analyzing the area she found herself in. Had the walls dark green from the lichen covering overwise dark stone? The water dark but oddly clear? She had expected it to be contaminated and almost tried to stop Finn and Jake from approaching it for their own safety, but they seemed entirely unconcerned, Finn even dipping his flesh arm into the lake and splashing it. "See? Nothin' here but a house and a garden!"
She frowned at the boy hero's assertion, instead looking up. Yes, those stalactites looked familiar at least; she had vague memories of tossing rocks at them to dislodge them on property trespassers. As a prank. Yup. Just a prank. Certainly nothing more malicious than that, oh perish the thought. House and garden, huh? Those did indeed seem to be what took up the bulk of a cave she hadn't realized was so small. It seemed bigger in her mind, but the structure- ...Structure? Where have I…? -seemed safe enough. Ignoring the bolt of pain that pierced through her skull she turned away to the cave's main attraction: the small lavender house that was her own. In theory. She had a vague recollection of the building itself, true, but had it always been lavender? Had she always maintained it so nicely? With a frown she floated deeper into the cave to examine the building. The basketball hoop she recognized, yes. The porch was familiar, and she definitely remembered wherever she lived being intact. She almost turned to peak in the window, but something within her screamed not to, offered a bolt of pain for good measure, and, well, who was she to argue with gut instinct? Instead she reached out, tentatively touching the wood but, no, it was just painted wood. A normal house owned by a most unusual resident.
The garden, the one part of her property to face the mouth of the cave, and thus the Sky Ball of Death, seemed oddly healthy and full of life, all green grass that looked just as soft as its outside counterpart, yellow mushrooms on the skyline border, and- "Wow, your strawberries are looking great, Marce!" Finn meant it, too; the half-demon had always been an oddly keen gardener, especially for fruits and other edible plants, but this year her strawberries were looking particularly large, plump, and- Red! That gives me the best idea in the history of ideas. As his friends watched on Finn reached the garden, searching for the smallest one he could find before dislodging it from its plant, holding it up for his injured friend to see, only to find her watching carefully, though whether she was wary of him trespassing - she was territorial after all - or of the berry in his hand he wasn't sure. In all honesty he had been hoping that she would scold him for helping himself to his fruit, just like she would have if she were healthy, but her wary expression was good enough. It wasn't the primary goal anyway. "When was the last time you ate, Marce?" He kept the tone conversational, but Jake and Bonnibel sensed the worry underneath.
She turned away to look at nothing. Nothing was better than something, at least for now. "...Food tastes weird," she muttered.
Bonnibel took the fruit from Finn's hands, determined not to let the boy have every success in enticing Marceline to leave her comfort zone. "That makes sense, Marcy. You didn't need to eat in your mind. You could, but it wasn't necessary-" not that there was any red to begin with "-and I imagine your mind is still adjusting to that need. But you do need to eat. It's a physiological requirement now." She stopped, watching the queen. Watching her watching her suspiciously. "We won't ask you to eat the entire thing if you're uncomfortable, but perhaps you'd only nibble it? Please?" The half-demon continued to watch her cautiously, a look Bonnibel recognized as that of a wounded animal skeptical of the treat it was being offered. Yet even now, despite everything, despite the subjective audacity of the request and of who was requesting it, a grey hand slowly took the offering from the pink one, because even now her stupid broken heart shattered in a bajillion pieces couldn't say no to the younger woman. Not when Princess Bubblegum looked so much like Bonnibel. With a flush of humiliation she sank a single fang into the sweet fruit, draining just a tinge of red, just the right amount to be perceptible.
Then there was a noise from within the house and the food was forgotten, reclaimed by a pink hand before it could be crushed. Garnet eyes slitted as her hand gripped the staff of her axe, a snarl escaping her as she turned to the building. Before anyone could even begin to stop her the vampire tore open the door, straight off its hinges in her haste to kill whatever had invaded what she had just been assured was her turf. Finn's eyes widened in panic as he took off after her. Oh figs! Who would be dumb enough to squat in a vampire's- Then he stopped, remembering that he and Jake had done exactly that. Twice. ...Okay, who would be dumb enough to squat in a vampire's pad without being her bros?! He suddenly wished he had brought his sword, or any weapon not function of his robotic arm, because if Marceline did lose control who knew what it would take to stop her?
"Schwabl!"
Yeah, that'd work. He skidded to a stop, Jake slamming behind him with a small "Ow…". But that happy exclamation deafened him to his brother's whimper, because it was the first time in far, far too long since he had last heard that noise. The sound of their vampire ladybro happy. So he grinned and looked to Bonnibel, and she was grinning to. He let her into the house first, following straight after. And that's where they found her: Marceline Abadeer with her own grin, kneeling on the floor, a zombie poodle with the world's happiest tail licking her face. That's… actually really adorbs. Not that I'm ever gonna tell her that. Ever.
Jake smirked, crossing his arms smugly. "See? Told ya. He totally missed you."
If she had heard him perhaps she would have cared more, or at least punched him. But she didn't, because One of Her Three Favorite People was with her, just as delighted to see her as she was to see him, and so her true reintroduction to her home was temporarily put on hold due to the influence of cute animals. Out of habit Bonnibel kneeled next to her, reaching out to pet the small dog. To Marceline's bafflement he not only allowed her, he also licked her hand. Dude, don't be a traitor, Schwabl. What the dip! But then… he had never been a traitor, and it was hard for her to wrap her mind around the confliction. Soon the burden was lifted for her when the small dog, now seemingly satisfied with the level of affection received, retreated away from his person in favor of the black and green crackled bed easily meant for a dog three times his size. It took three rotates but then he was asleep, leaving the four in only their company once more.
Awkward.
Though Marceline's ill mood swiftly returned it was tempered now, weighed against the first truly positive experience she had had since awakening in her father's office, covered in blood with an all-but ruined throat. But of course now she realized how filthy she was, courtesy of One Of Her Three Favorite People and sighed. "Alright, I'm headed to the bathroom."
Bonnibel nodded her agreement, standing as Marceline did. "Good idea. We can begin the reintroduction upstairs. It wasn't very different in your mind, so it stands to reason that it will be a good starting… point…" And then she trailed off, because all three of her friends were staring at her with matching looks that could only possibly be interpreted as 'seriously?'. Clearing her throat she turned away, towards the ladder. "Shall we?" When there was no immediate response she turned back, only to find Marceline watching her warily.
The vampire glanced to her now sleeping dog, considered his excellent track record in assessing people in their motives, then returned to Bonnibel. "...Fine. Let's go." Ignoring the smile offered to her the vampire floated after the princess, entering the room cautiously. They could call it her bedroom all they wanted, but her brain was telling her otherwise. She set her axe down against the wall, leaving her free to examine the room more closely, scrutinizing every detail. Had her walls always been lavender, or at least some shade of it? She trailed her hand along the western wall, feeling the texture under calloused fingers, stopping only when she reached her recording equipment.
In her mind it was different, particularly the color. Wasn't it black before? But there was no bolt of pain shooting through her head, indicating that this ancient tan and brown equipment was as it always had been, that her microphone hadn't moved, that her speakers truly always were that small and grey. "...I remember this," she muttered to no one in particular, feeling the soundboard's casing, absently flicking odd switches at random. At least I remember how all of this works. It was a great relief, really; her voice may be damaged- or ruined, yeah, let's be realz, Marceline - but at least she wasn't completely robbed of her music. She had a vague recollection of the backlog in her arsenal, the many, many tracks she had to edit and compile. And if her voice wasn't healed by then… well, she tried not to think about that.
Instead she turned towards her bed, which looked freshly made. It was odd, really; she almost never made her bed. Why would she? Unless she slept next to Bonnibel she usually slept floating on top of beds. ...Sleep next to Bonnibel. Right. There was that small bolt again, coupled with a foggy memory of two immortal women so intimately enjoying one another's presence, of her fangs sinking into… something. Something important, something meaningful. Her eyes widened as she tried to grasp the memory, but it slipped through her fingers, as the truth so often did. She growled in frustration, almost kicking the bed. Almost, but not quite, because-
"You alright, Marce?"
She sighed, silently wishing Finn would stop worrying about her. Yes, she was injured; yes, it was endearing; but the rage was beginning to flow back, and the urge to snap his neck-
"I'm fine."
Something in her tone screamed for him to back away and so back away he did, sharing a look with Jake of mutual concern. But Marceline was no longer paying attention to the brothers; instead she was gently pressing the mattress, confirming for herself that it did physically exist. That reminded her of something, something she couldn't place, and she scanned the room, the walls, the shelves, the furniture. There was something was missing, something that needed to be examined, to be checked, to be-
And then she knew what it was and she floated to the closet, almost ripping the door off of its hinges in her haste to open it. Finn blinked, almost shocked by the sudden display of physical aggression. "Uh… you and the closet still friends, Marce?"
At first there was no response as she scrutinized everything within the closet. "...Just had to check."
"For what?"
Now she blinked, the rage ebbing. "...I dunno."
But Finn did. Oh snap. Navigator was living in the closet and Unifier didn't even know. Some part of ya has got to remember that! He opened his mouth to solve the mystery, then closed it, thinking better of his clever plan. ...You don't need to know that. No names, Finn. Respect your ladybro's boundaries.
Said ladybro was examining the contents of the closet in a most unusual fashion. Reaching for the back and looking almost disappointed not to see anything being the chief feature of the unusual fashion. Weird. Wasn't there something important back here? Something… it was… I know it was grey and cold. Ugh, this sucks eggs. But she let it go, because who was to say her dumb brain wasn't lying to her about something stupid just for stuff and giggles? It's exactly the kinda thing my brain would do. Something else caught her eye then, an oddity in her vast wardrobe, something that didn't belong. At first she wasn't sure she was seeing it correctly but, yup, there it was, and she pulled it out, almost not wanting to touch it. Not that she knew why. That seemed to be the new norm. "Bonnie, what's your jacket doing in my closet?"
"My jacket?" The vampire held it up then, the clothing that caused a sharp pain of her own to shoot through her, though unlike Marceline this was in her heart - wherever that was. It caused so many feelings to come flooding back and it must have been obvious, because she felt a comforting metal arm on her shoulder, unaware that she had grown ashen. She wasn't sure how to feel about seeing it again, but I should have predicted Marceline would have her letterman jacket in her closet. As it was the vampire was looking at her both curiously and expectantly, and the princess weighed her next words carefully. Some part of her must remember Tyrant giving me her jacket before I kil-
Don't go down that road, Bon. She's not dead, she's just part of the whole, you know?
But the jacket-
Hey, if she says it's yours why do ya wanna argue so much?
Why did she want to argue with the implication that the jacket was her's now? There was no point practically speaking, but she knew what the real problem was: she would never stop feeling guilty about the way Tyrant died, even if it had been For The Greater Good. I hope you never remember, Marcy, and I'm not going to put you in the position of needing to. Drawing upon her magnificent ability to lie, and with only the ghost of Rechte to hear her internal screaming, Bonnibel smiled, crossing the room to accept the clothing, sliding it on. If she didn't know any better she could have sworn it felt so very much like a hug. Like it missed her. Ridiculous. It's just fabric, Bubblegum. "Ah. I must have left it here when I last visited. I tried to convince you to replace the travesty that is your dishware."
Marceline frowned, removing the hanger from the coat before turning it over with a mumbled, "I like my plates."
Bonnibel couldn't help herself, really, she couldn't. Or so she would later claim. "Your plates are falling apart, Marcy. You're royalty. If anyone of note visited-"
In spite of herself, and the overwhelming feeling of deja vu, the vampire rolled her eyes, the words tumbling out of her without thought. "No one important visits me except you."
Bonnibel tried not to smile at her own sense of deja vu. "They don't visit you because I don't let them see the travesty that is your dishware!"
"So what's the problem?" It was then that Marceline realized two things simultaneously: despite how furious she was with the princess - and oh boy was that an understatement - she easily fell back into their typical banter, and that as furious as she was with the princess such banter… well, it felt right. Dirty, filthy even, but right. It didn't help that Finn was smirking at her. "What?," she growled, hand tightening.
It didn't stop his smirk. "Oh, nothin'." Before this - any of it- could turn from a friendly argument to a real one he pointed towards the east wall with his thumb. "Does anything else seem familiar, Marce?"
She glared at the boy, closing the closet harder than intended, but relented; the sooner they finished examining the shattered remains of her life the sooner she could go back to the Nightosphere in peace. She scanned the walls, the ceiling, the lights, everything she could. "I dunno. Did I always have all these pictures and junk?" And those books? But those seemed important for an all-too different reason, and she felt it best not to mention them around the goody two-shoes brothers. Why? What's the point in asking myself anything?
"Yeah, but there weren't any in your mind, so they probably look weird."
"Wait, there were no pictures in my mind?"
Finn shook his head. "Nope. No pictures anywhere." Except maybe the one on Lady Evil's desk? Better not ask about that one.
"...Huh." At least her trophies looked familiar, those demons and Ooo denizens that hand made attempts on Bonnibel's life, or interfered with Marceline's efforts to court her. Not that she even knows what that means. Not that she ever asked. Not that she ever care- The rage was returning, and she ceased that line of thinking. There was no point in feeding it, as good as it felt to. She knew, deep her heartguts, that Bonnibel did say she was trying to be better, and if Marceline was honest with herself she had been doing well. For now, anyway… But even she, no matter how angry, couldn't ignore that truth. "I guess… I remember having those heads on my wall. I know I put them there. Don't remember like… the fine details, I guess. But I remember them." And they hurt to look at. No one questioned when she tore her gaze away, or when she made for the lavatory without looking at any of them, nor did they try to follow her in when she closed the door.
Instead they turned to one another, mixed expressions of satisfaction at how the day was progressing evident. Neither brother caught Bonnibel's weak smile, nor did they know why she was looking at those creepy heads almost fondly. They couldn't know - couldn't be allowed to know - why those heads were there in the first place, that the wings and skeleton came courtesy of a voyeuristic Ooo denized who dared to watch the monarchs' most intimate moment, when they had been joined together in a way too people so deep in love could. They could never be allowed to know that every single one mounting was a trophy, a twisted celebration of their love and bond. How could they understand? They still didn't know the depths of her sins, how corrupted her own soul undoubtedly was, because she may be turning into a squishy marshmallow for her vampire but everyone else was fair game, that she knew to be true. She was egotistical, manipulative, an adept liar, a narcissist, and, evidently, capable of great cruelty, and though she had made a solemn vow to never use these weapons against the musician again they were still weapons, and weapons were meant to be used.
Looking at those heads, remembering how she had praised Marceline for her brutality and sadism, arose within her conflicting feelings, a feeling she felt only once before: the moment she realized that she simultaneously both reviled and was attracted to Lady Evil, that some part of her queen reflected herself in such an eerily similar way. That some part of her couldn't help imagining how devastating the two of them could be together, if only their goals entirely aligned. How can I both want to see that side of her and still identify it as wrong and unhealthy? She turned to the lavatory door, listening to sound of a running sink. I suppose the bitter truth is that we both must learn to meld those parts of ourselves into something healthy, or at least non-destructive to those people and places we mean to protect. She didn't want to believe the demon's claim that her influence was as insidious as it was inevitable, but it nagged at her. Particularly the part where she was bound to train Whole Marceline in the ways of political clout and exercises of power and influence.
Her last thought before the door opened once more was how beautiful those heads were.
The door to the bathroom opened and Marceline exited, drying her hands with a white towel. "Alright, bathroom's choice. What's next?"
Finn hooked his thumb towards the trap door. "If you're good up here we can do the living room and the kitchen. Then we should probably chill, since it'll probably be dawn by then."
At the word 'dawn' the musician tensed, but after one deep breath she relaxed. Stop being a wuss, Marceline. It's just the Sky Ball of Death. You've dealt with it for like a billion years. Don't be a ding dong. She said none of this. "Alright, let's go." With a sincere smile Finn travelled back down the ladder, Jake immediately after. Marceline started towards the ladder, then stopped, glancing first to the heads mounting her walls, then to Bonnibel. "...I wanna make sure I'm right. I killed those tranches because… right?"
Despite the missing chunk of that sentence it was loud and clear to the princess. "Yes, Marcy."
Their gazes were steady, both women silent. Until Marceline nodded. "...Okay." And with that she was gone following her friends. Bonnibel watched, perplexed. She didn't look mad. She looked conflicted. Unsure how to feel about this, the younger royal followed the path back to the living room, where she found Marceline examining the couch both royals knew was not a couch. She seemed to be conflicted here as well, hand twitching as if she wanted to examine it closer, but not wanting to reveal its secrets to the boys. If those trophies upstairs were real and for her… then in here…?
Bonnibel knew exactly why.
"Guys, let's go check the refrigerator. If Marceline is going to stay here-" please don't stay here, Marcy, come home "-we should make sure she has enough to eat." Not allowing any room for argument she held up her bag, indicating that its contents must contain red and a whole lot of it. It seemed odd to Finn and Jake, but who were they to argue with their liege? Or, more accurately, Jake just wanted to poke around and see if there was anything edible for mere mortals; it was way past his mid-post-midnight snack, and Finn knew his brother would trash the kitchen if it meant finding a cracker.
Only once all three were safely within the kitchen Marceline turned back to the couch, giving it a gentle punch, smiling instinctively at the scrape of wood against wood. After one last look over her shoulder towards the kitchen to make certain she was unobserved she lifted the top of the box very carefully, because, of course, the couch wasn't a couch at all, and if she remembered correctly it should be filled with…
...Oh.
A grey, shaky hand reached down and pulled out a green shard, decorated with darker spots. Her eyes closed as she forced herself to dredge up the memory of where it came from. It came in blurs; three demons infiltrating the Candy Kingdom as it slept, assassins meant to behead its matriarch. She killed them in her defense. But… she wasn't herself. It was a different part of her driving. She was-
The shell was returned to the box and the lid replaced, the bolt of pain driving the memory away. Alright, fine. You be like that, brain. Nuts to you! She stood, almost calling out to the others, but something else caught her eye. Something shiny and metal, with something familiar and pink scrawled across it. Her hand traced its casing, the familiar-
I like your handwriting. I think it's… really pretty.
She withdrew her hand as if burned. How deep in my head are you? ...Were you? Ugh! Her mind needed a distraction, but everything else in the room seemed strangely normal. The walls were the same shade in her memory, the same hideous lamp she knew - even if she didn't remember - rescuing from a landfill because Bonnibel found it tacky. I mean… she's not wrong. But it's my lamp! WIth a snort she turned to the kitchen, oddly calmed by the sound of Finn and Jake arguing about something she was sure was stupid.
"-Not how fridges work, dude!"
"Then what do fridge fairies do for work? Huh?!"
"There's no such thing, bro!"
"Uh huh! I met one!"
"That's butts, Jake."
"Hey, just 'cause fridge fairies-"
"What the flip is going on?" She meant for it to sound irritated, but the sight jarred familiar memories, ones that didn't cause a bolt of pain to rip through her, was oddly calming. Both mortals turned to her, argument temporarily halted.
"Oh, hey Marce. Jake was just being lame. How was the living room?"
A shrug. "I dunno. Didn't seem as important as my bedroom did. Like… not much changed, right?"
"Yup! Except for, like, colors it was mostly the same. So we've done the bathroom, the bedroom, the living room… wanna see the kitchen?"
She sighed. As much as she appreciated her friend his enthusiasm was sometimes exhausting. Why do mortals insist on cramming everything so fast? Her eyes rolled as she entered the final room of her home.
Finn held open his arms. "Ta da! See Marce? It's all like it was! Well, I mean… not in your mind. It was kinda banged apart, but it's all nice now!" As he turned he gestured to every part in turn. "See? Fridge is full of red food, got all the appliances working, Peebo says that the plates are still wanged up but held together with your hopes and dreams, but I haven't checked yet. You wanna check, Marce? Since you know what they look like, and I think she's exaggerating." Silence." ...Marce?" He turned to her, but she wasn't watching him, couldn't even hear him, because her attention was monopolized by something else entirely: the kitchen's back door. She was pale, eyes wide, hands shaking, because that back door hadn't been a back door in her mind. It had been a door to a very different place, a white room filled with silver hooks and spikes and restraints and pain and-. Finn's eyes widened in panic. Oh flip. Oh flip oh flip oh flip.
He wasn't the only one to catch her demeanor change, nor to immediately understand why. Because so much of Marceline's mind was still trapped in her mindscape, and in her mindscape some part of her was trapped in The Room. "Marcy…," Bonnibel whispered calmly. "Marcy, can you hear me?" She was trembling now, eyes pinned, not in rage, no, but in sheer terror. "Marcy… it's okay Marcy. Just listen." The princess took one tentative step forward. "It's gone, Marcy. It's not there anymore. You're not-"
And then she was gone, having fled the room, the building, maybe even the Grasslands itself, Finn, Jake, and Bonnibel weren't sure, had no hope of catching her. There was a horrible crashing sound, a bang, creaking metal and wood, what sounded like an explosion, and then Marceline was gone, truly gone. Bonnibel reacted first, taking after her lover, knowing exactly what was happening, knowing what her mate was about to go through, having seen it before, the question only being how bad it was going to be. How warped the panic would make her mind, if it would be as bad as the moment she discovered how deeply rooted her sedatephobia was. When they exited the kitchen and surveyed the living room - or, more accurately, what remained of it - Bonnibel covered her mouth in dismay. There was only one thing to say in a time like this.
"...schieße."