Real talk: Alright guys, let's have a brief and friendly chat before you start on this chapter. Remember how I said that although Opening Act will consist of considerably less graphic violence the mental health related content in of itself warranted a Mature rating? Well, this is the chapter I had in mind when I said that.
The bad news is that so far this looks like it'll be the darkest chapter in Opening Act. The good news is that so far this looks like it'll be the darkest chapter in Opening Act, so it's all up hill from here, because I really like fluff and can't wait for... well, you'll see. Let's just say I title my chapters with thought, including this one. I tried to make this chapter as un-triggering as possible, but I'm toeing a line here between realism and too-realism.
Short version: If you tend to ignore my content warnings... don't do that this time.
Content Warnings:
Disassociation
Severe panic attack
Graphic violence in the form of strongly implied self-mutilation (not happening again)
So many feels
PTSD
I told you, Schwabl is the real hero
We're all very proud of Bonnie
Chaos.
Absolute chaos.
With every ounce of care Bonnibel stepped out of the kitchen to enter the living room proper. At least, what was left of it. Both windows were smashed, glass shards scattered both within and outside the panes, crunching forgotten under her shoes. The smaller amplifiers Marceline once treasured were dented, cracked across the speakers from the sheer force of being thrown against the wall. Would they still function? Possibly, but only because the larger amplifier cushioned their impact, Bonnibel's pretty handwriting no longer so pretty, what with the device itself now mangled beyond reason. But that wasn't what drew her attention, even as that stupid over-logical part in the back of her mind began drafting designs for an upgraded replacement. No, that wasn't what was important right now.
There, laying on the floor in too many pieces were the remains of the couch-that-was-not-a-couch, its contents scattered across the floor. Dozens of objects: horns and beaks and wings and any number of trinkets, each a momento, tokens of Marceline's love and adoration for her younger lover. Symbols of how she expressed that love sometimes through song, but also sometimes through brutal and excessive violence. Trophies from her murdering would-be assassins in the princess's name. They had been kept in the couch-that-was-not-a-couch, hidden from prying eyes to protect both royals' reputations and to prevent such silly things as 'inquiries' and 'riots'. Who could possibly understand how precious they were, the powerful sentiment they represented? They were treasures, priceless and irreplaceable, now scattered on the ground like trash. The princess kneeled, tracing a red, spiralled horn that was cracked across the top. As her thumb stroked its curves she looked on helplessly, unable to imagine what must have been going through her beloved's mind if she so mindlessly destroyed the collection she had grown and cherished for hundreds of years.
"Woah."
Ah. This presents a problem. She had been so focused on the remnants of her mate's room she had entirely forgotten about her champions, and Finn's awed whisper caused her to tense, hand now possessively grasping the horn.
"PB, what is this?," he asked, obviously bewildered. And suspicious. That second part was the important part.
She turned to him, to her wide-eyed human champion and jaw-dropped dog champion. They were never meant to see this, any of this, because as much as they had proven themselves loyal subjects and deep friends they were strongly allied in the camp of the 'good' and 'righteous', and this was decidedly 'not good' and 'not righteous', except in the sense that Marceline's methodical dedication was nothing short of inspiring. The heroes had seen so much of her lover, so many of her secrets. Her privacy, her dignity, so much had been taken from her vampire. And now? What else did she have to hide? What else was her's and her's alone? Because the trophies weren't just hidden to protect the princess's untainted name, they were also a form of catharsis, a way for the older woman to release the beast within her, relish in the demonic half of her bloodline before locking the spoils safely within a wooden vault, compartmentalizing half of her where it could do no further harm. Then, when she felt her bloodlust boil, she could gaze her collection and reflect upon her actions, knowing with certainty that the creature within her was only part of, a part that had its place within the whole, not as the whole.
But apparently dignity was not something to be afforded her mate.
Bonnibel sighed, standing, still clutching her horn. "...This was something else you were never meant to see," she reluctantly admitted.
Finn and Jake fell silent; they may not be able to feel the weight on Bonnibel's shoulders, but they could see her ashen expression. "Like… her void demon form thing?"
"Yes, Finn. These…," she trailed off, subconsciously counting the many items littering the ground. The number of times her life was saved. More than you ever indicated, Marcy. "You already know that for hundreds of years demons and other assassins have vied for my death, and you also know that in that time Marceline has protected me." She sighed. "Every one of these objects were recovered from these attempts."
Under his fur Jake paled. "So she, like… killed things and kept them as trophies?" The horror was evident, but Bonnibel couldn't blame him. It was one thing to see what Marceline was capable of within her mind, when those parts that were rage and despair incarnate were unchecked. But this? This was Marceline, Whole Marceline, engaging in such violence and sadism, actions they had no idea she was capable of. The Usurper as an individual was rage unrestrained, and though Jake knew that rage had to come from somewhere they had never dreamed that it could manifest in the real Ooo as something so deranged.
He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced up to his brother. "Hey. She's still Marce, man."
"Bro, look at-"
But Finn just shook his head sadly, nodding towards an obviously distraught Bonnibel. He lowered his head to keep his voice low. "She was just protecting what she loves the only way she knew how, Jake. Yeah, it's really messed up. But she's still the same person. 'Sides… something's wrong. We gotta find her. She's hurting bad, man." As much as it bothered him, as sure as he was that he may have trouble looking Marceline in the eyes, he knew Finn was right. "'Sides, it's just raw now, man. Give it time. It's totes weird, yeah, but ya gotta roll with it. We can talk to them about it when this is all calm again and Marce is back to her old self." He sounded just convincing enough for Jake to nod, albeit reluctantly. This was, after all, a ritual he couldn't possibly understand, and as sick as those pieces of weird-ness made him it was something that began long before he had. It wasn't exactly new behavior. Would this need to be addressed, would the brothers need to have a deep conversation with both their ladybros and one another about all they had seen and learned? Of course, but in lieu of the all-necessary chat his own words, the advice he had given his little brother even before they began this macabre journey, came back to haunt him, and he supposed he deserved that.
Man, you're overthinking it. They're still the same people. There was just a part of them you didn't know about. Lots of people are like that. It's not personal. They just have some mondo stuff going on, and I don't think they've even got it figured out, and they're so old it's redonkulus. Getting to know people is just part of the journey of friendship. It keeps it fresh and interesting. So don't think about it like they're strangers, they've just got a layer you didn't dig up yet.
It escaped neither brother that the 'trophies' were in the exact same location as Marceline's Moral Code had been in her mind. Bubblegum, unaware of their conversation, or perhaps just not caring, slowly approached the entryway of the house. Or, at least, what was left of it, because however Marceline chose to leave her home it had left a gaping hole, as if created by a concentrated explosion. How…?
Hey, you always said she was a force of nature.
Before she could refute Rechte's assertion she felt a small pressure on her foot. That broke her preoccupation with the destruction around her, as a small poodle so often does. She smiled at Schwabl softly, placing the cracked horn down in favor of petting her mate's beloved pet. If she didn't know any better she could almost think that he looked worried. Is an animal capable of humanoid emotions? Well, Bubblegum, he certainly seems more capable than you were. Could she blame him? He had known the musician even longer than she had, and as silly as it was, she felt compelled to reassure him. Marcy would. "Don't worry, Schwabl. We'll find her. She'll be alright. I promise."
Oddly enough, she felt better saying it out loud.
With a deep breath she stood, turning to her gallant champions. The conspiratol whispering stopped immediately. "We have to find Marceline."
This was unarguable. The only problem was- "Right on, P-bubs. But where would she even go?"
Jake rubbed his chin. "Well… it's gotta be a place she feels safe, right? I mean, she's probably not feelin' too right in the noggin' right now."
Bonnibel took a deep breath, brain figuratively rotating the problem every way possible, her normally analytically flawless and swift mind muddied by those flippin' heartguts feelings. How ironic that her love for Marceline was destroying her ability to find her. Her eyes closed tightly as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "...Alright. Let's consider the mindscape. It must hold a clue."
"Oh, I get it! 'Cause those were the places she called home!"
Her eyes opened and her hand lowered. He's half right anyway. Without confirming or denying his idea she retreated to the kitchen to retrieve her bag, almost dumping its contents out in her haste to find the smallest of its objects: a pink holo-crystal, her immediate lifeline to her castle. She squeezed it, waited for what felt like a miniature eternity, then-
"Yes, Your Highness?"
She had never been so glad to see her most loyal subject, the one candy citizen she knew she didn't need to maintain the illusion that everything was perfectly totally 100% absolutely unequivocally unquestionably alright. In fact, everything was the complete opposite, and by Peppermint Butler's frown it must be obvious. It was a frown that asked 'is everything alright?' without wanting to voice it. Because everything wasn't alright, and he had known that by her use of a holo-crystal. It was, after all, for emergencies only. Bonnibel's answer came in the form of her Most Royal Voice with a Most Royal Request. "Pep, we've temporarily lost track of Marceline. I need you to contact Hunson and see if Marceline has returned to the Nightosphere. If not, check the dungeons." It came out more in a rush than she had originally meant, but that didn't matter. It never did with him.
"At once, Your Majesty."
And then he was gone, his image fading. It was only then that she returned to her champions. "Uh… why's he checking the dungeons?" Finn's skepticism would have been almost comical at any other time, but in the here and now they had more pressing concerns. Besides, he was too young for such explanations.
Even if he was biologically older than her now.
As it was, Bubblegum shook her head to clear the distracting images from her mind, many of which were proper, others of which had Rechte snickering knowingly from wherever it was in the young scientist's subconscious she resided. "Sometimes when she's bored she likes to mess with prisoners. Regardless, that leaves just one structure. I will search here for any indication as to where she went and coordinate a search of the castle with Pep-But. Finn, head back to your house and see if she went there. Anything is possible, especially with her memory gonked up. She may have forgotten that she doesn't live there." She turned to the older brother. "Jake, you can make it to Simon's fastest. His home wasn't a structure, but if she's acting on instinct-" it would certainly explain this calamity "-she may have gone there instead. If she isn't there…" She took a deep breath, almost not believing she was about to say- "...call Phoebe. She may have gone there." I don't know what your relationship is with her, Marcy, but if the Fire Kingdom is where you feel safe I'll just be happy to know where you are and that you're alright. Even from paces away both brothers could see how much those words hurt her. But her plan made sense.
"What do we do-" don't say if, Finn, don't say if "-when we find her?"
"Call me immediately. If she's alone don't approach her until I'm there, when I can assess her mental capacity. If she's with Phoebe or Simon they should be able to brief you regarding the situation, but call me immediately anyway. This will need to be handled delicately. If she's willing to cause this much property damage to her own house we have to assume something is very wrong."
"Uh… she's not actually dangerous for realzorz, right? Like… she wouldn't…?"
Jake trailed off expectantly, but Bonnibel only watched silently. Finally she had no choice but to admit- "To be honest, Jake… until I assess her condition I cannot make any wild prediction about what she may or may not do. It cannot be argued that she's strong and afflicted with minute breaks from reality. However," she rushed as he shrank back, "she's still Marceline. But she just saw something that I imagine is immensely psychologically jarring and it's safe to assume that she's more of a danger to herself than others."
Finn gulped and turned back to the kitchen. After all, bringing her in had been his idea. Nice work, Finn. You know what it's like to experience something like this. What the flip. "...I shoulda predicted that. That place was a torture room for her. I shoulda-"
"Finn, stop." It was the firmest voice he had heard from her in days, perhaps weeks, and it snapped him to attention immediately. "We were all responsible her safe reintroduction to Ooo. But I was the most responsible. Damaged or not, given my role in her life it is inarguable that I should have anticipated this as a possibility." Bonnibel closed her eyes, trying not to remember the panicked look in her lover's eyes, her trembling, how sick she looked when she saw the door. Because even though the kitchen's backdoor only led to the porch now what must it look like to her? She only saw the entrance to what must be her greatest nightmare. "Our primary concern has to be making sure she's safe."
She was right and he knew it. He might feel guilty, but there was no time to dwell. He was a hero, and he needed to go do something heroic. He could feel guilty on his own time. "Preach, Peebo. Alright, Jake. Let's do this."
"You got it, Finn! But def bring me a Jake Snack! Heroes get hungies, man!"
And then they were gone, Finn on Jake's back as the dog stretched into what may as well be the horizon. Bonnibel didn't care to check. No, she was left behind in the remains of Marceline's shattered house, only except for a small dog. Now free from prying eyes she turned back to the wreckage, prepared to do a thorough examination. Alright, Bubblegum. Break this down. In order for her to exit in such a destructive manner she must have been profoundly upset. Does she remember that room now in its entirety, or was it merely a reflex? Something's wrong here. Something… besides the obvious. Her hand traced the walls, feeling the point where her house met the open air. The scorch marks. This would take a concentrated effort on her part, or at least a buzz of a lot of fire, mixed with a concussive force. But why both, when she can just use a concussive force alone? Wouldn't that make for an easier escape?
Fire's her instinct, Bon. Telekinesis takes concentration. Fire just happens.
"Fire just happens…" So she wasn't thinking. She was too desperate to escape to even consider her powers. That could not possibly bode well, and it made her skin crawl. She knew she would need to move quickly, especially if the half-demon was at the cabin, but chasing her would do no one any good if she didn't have a plan of action when she found her. She knew her best. It was time to act like it. "Marcy, what happened when you saw the door?," she mumbled. "Where are-"
"Your Majesty?"
Though she would never admit it the sound of Peppermint Butler's voice startled her so much she almost jumped. She recovered immediately, snatching the holo-crystal from her pocket. "Pep? Was she there?"
His sad smile screamed sincerity. He may not know what was happening, but her panic must have been obvious. See what you do to me, Marcy? I used to be so good at hiding my emotions.
"Miss Abadeer has not returned to the Nightosphere. Jan checked twice under threat of you going down there to check yourself. No portals have been opened outside of or within the dimension since you departed. I am on my way to examine the dungeons now under pretense of condition inspection. It should distract all castle guards, should Miss Abadeer find her way here after all."
Later, much later, Princess Bubblegum would be profoundly thankful for her butler's quick thinking and foresight. As it stood now she could feel panic settling into the back of her mind, because of all the places she could possibly return she was certain the Nightosphere would be the highest priority on her list. After all, hadn't she asserted that she would go back to her birthright homeland at the first sign of discomfort? Why wouldn't you go there? "Thanks, Pep. Please, keep the line clear in case she sends a distress signal." Whether or not Marceline even had a holo-crystal in her possession, or even her cell phone for that matter, wasn't a question she had time to consider; now it was her own cell phone activating. She cleared the line with her esteemed butler before digging out the device from her bag. "What's the story, Finn?"
The regret is his voice made her heart sink. "She wasn't at the house. BMO says he hasn't seen her since Movie Club."
When was the last movie night? Of course, she couldn't remember. Just another thing to add to the list of all the other things, all of the other opportunities to be with her vampire that she had missed over the years. "Alright, thanks Finn."
"There's… uh… something else, PB. You should see this." And then there was the tell-tale *blip*, the signal of an incoming picture. It wasn't the greatest quality, what with Finn not having the greatest camera on his phone, but it was more than enough to get his point across. When she turned the phone's screen to face her her hand covered her mouth in horror at the grotesque sight before her, both because it in of itself would traumatize a lesser mind, and because there was no doubt as to what - or, more accurately, who - the cause was.
Desolation. It looked like an explosion had triggered in the middle of the Grasslands. Where there had once been grass there was now nothing but dust and ash, as if the area had never been green and full of life. Charred husks of trees lay broken, branches hanging on through what must be sheer dumb luck. The damage to the Grasslands was uneven, indicating something other than an incendiary device had triggered the devastation; in fact, if she didn't know better, the princess could almost swear she saw deep marks, gashes even, clawed into the previously luscious ground, though for what purpose she couldn't say, not without examining them in person. Even through Finn's camera phone it was easy to see that smoke infested the area, and though she hadn't been paying attention before Finn's voice sounded scratchy, like he was trying quite hard not to cough. Smoke inhalation? She must have been there recently for it not to have dissipated yet! Where is she-
"That's… that's not all, Peebo." And then a second picture popped into her view, and it was somehow even worse, because this time it wasn't just the landscape that was mangled. No, now there was a village that had evidently been caught in the crossfire, a tiny one at that. Tiny mushroom buildings had been severed uncleanly, as if whatever creature was response was in great haste. The fence - or was it once a gate? - was crushed, embedded in the ground. Tiny trees were uprooted with no care, toppled without thought or strategy. Were it any other day Finn and Jake would be hunting for some horrible, destructive beast that at best didn't know its own strength, at worst did know its own strength and loved it. But today that destructive beast was family. A conflict of interest Finn had never hoped to experience.
"Did the denizens say what happened?"
"They don't know. Some guy said it just rained fire and then everything blew up, but I asked around and…" he hesitated, swallowed hard, took a deep breath, "...lots of guys say they saw a giant bat."
Silence. Heavy silence. But the question had to be asked. "Is… everyone alright, Finn?"
"Nothing serious." Her sigh of relief was audible. He had given his own not too long before calling her. "Mostly just building stuff. I'm still rounding peeps up to get the scoop."
Bonnibel took a deep breath, hoping against hope it really was just structural damage. "Do whatever you can, Finn. Call Pep, call Doctor Princess, call anyone you have to. We have to contain this."
"You mean by helping people, right PB?" He sounded almost nervous, and she only realized then that she had shifted back into a mode of clinical detachment without meaning to.
"Of course, Finn. Contact whoever you need to. Though it is not my territory if Marceline is responsible, even if she meant no harm, the rescue and recovery of as many Grassland citizens is my highest priority." Liar.
"Your wish is my command, m'lady!" And then he was gone, but of course before she even had a moment of peace to continue her investigation Jake's call took its place. It was bizarre to her how in sync the brothers were, even in situations like this. Especially in situations like this. A side-effect of a lifetime of being a heroic duo, she supposed.
"Bad news, Bubblegum. I just checked with Ice King, he hasn't seen her. I think Gunther is leading a strike or something, so he's been dealin' with that." Her free hand clenched in frustration hard enough that she was sure she would break a finger. "I called Phoebe, too. She says Marce's not in the Fire Kingdom, but she wants to know as soon as we find her. She said she can send a sear-"
She cut him off then, because if Phoebe wasn't harboring her half-demon then the princess did not possess the mental energy to further consider her. There was just too much happening. "Great, thanks Jake. Finn is by Mushroom Village. Get to him as soon as possible, we have a situation."
"What-"
And now Jake was no longer on her radar. The call was ended, but she kept the phone by her ear. Just in case. Just in case what, she didn't know. But just in case.
Did Marceline have her phone?
"Your Majesty." The holo-crystal was active once more, but she didn't even bother retrieving it. The reluctant tone of his voice was all she needed to hear. "She hasn't been to the dungeons. The prisoners seemed rather relieved and expressed their appreciation of the fact. There is also no indication she's entered your lab, through either entryway."
No, she wouldn't go there. Alright, Bubblegum. She's not in the Nightosphere, not with Simon or Phoebe, she didn't return to the tree house and obviously she's not here. Bonnibel didn't bother to listen as Peppermint Butler ended the conversation and excused himself to some task she didn't care about, she only reflected on the shattered remains of her mate's house, settling finally on Schwabl. Belatedly Bonnibel realized how relieved she was to see the dog. Who knew if Marceline would ever recover if something happened to him? But he looked concerned, worried even, and she knelt, beckoning him over. He readily accepted the petting, happy to receive such affection. It made Bubblegum smile weakly. You're just like Marcy, aren't you? "At least you're alright…" She rubbed his ear. "She's run before, but never like this. What if she's hurt and vulnerable?" Somewhere her happiness was in grievous distress, and she didn't even know where to begin. "She tells you everything, Schwabl. She told me so herself. So… please tell me. When she's under emotional duress such as this where does she go?" The dog watched her, and if Bonnibel didn't know better she could have sworn he rose his eyebrow sarcastically, just like his person. And then he headbutted her gently, but when a pink hand lowered to continue petting him he pulled away, watched her expectantly, looked disappointed, and did it again. Obviously the dog was trying to tell her something, but what? She suddenly and sorely missed Jake.
Want a hint, dork?
It may have only been inside her own mind, but Rechte's voice still made her jump. She almost scolded the figment of her imagination, until she realized what the imaginary vampire had said. Yes. Please. I need to find her.
You're looking at it from the wrong angle.
What does that mean, Rechte? Even in her own mind she sounded exasperated.
Schwabl head-butted her again, more insistent this time.
You're askin' where Whole Marceline would run to if she wigged out, right? But she wasn't whole when that room messed her up, was she?
Head-butt.
See? Schwabl knows what's up.
Head-butt, more insistently, coupled with an expression that could only be read as 'you're the smartest woman in Ooo and you can't see this?'
Rechte, he's just head-butting me-
And then she understood where Marceline was, where the vampire had to be. How the fig did I miss that? Because there was only one place left to check, and it's exactly where she would have gone if given the opportunity. After all, it was the one place they would both retreat to when the sun rose and the day's treasure hunting was done. It was the first place the two had ever agreed was home. "Thank you, Schwabl. I understand now." She kissed his fluffy head and stood, running out of the cave as she dug something most important from her bag. "I know you hate it, Marcy," she mumbled to no one in particular, "but we have to get you safe before dawn." And so she brought the whistle to her lips and blew, perhaps harder than was necessary, but, really, that's just subjective. I'm so glad I trained you to heed a whistle, she thought as The Morrow landed before her, looking none-too-happy at having been woken in the middle of the night. Even as the great falcon squinted her displeasure, ruffling her feathers to accentuate the fact she still knelt, allowing her rider to take her rightful place. "We need to go to the cabin as quickly as you can." That would be quite a feet for a bird Jake had once described as 'crazy fast'.
Her wish was granted; were it anyone else they would have certainly fallen to their doom from the sheer speed of the great bird. But not Bonnibel. Never the cool, calm, collected Bonnibel. Who was trying her hardest to control her shaking and get her heartrate back under control. Who was struggling to think of something to say, to predict what it was she would find at her home-before-she-was-a-princess. She hadn't considered that Marceline would go there at first; sure, the cabin had been a mental structure, but no one had lived there or occupied it in any way. It was, if anything, merely a gateway in cabin form, devoid of any other purpose. A footnote. But if Rechte's hint was accurate she not only knew that Marceline would be there, she knew why. I should have seen the signs! Exactly this has happened before! Glob it, Bubblegum, are you a genius or not?!
Even Rechte was silent on that topic. Or maybe she just couldn't hear her over the screaming winds whipping past her. The air was bitter and cold from The Morrow's speed, but it was a good thing, a sensation that reminded her of sharp reality, and by the time the great bird had landed Bonnibel had decided to forego any planned or rehearsed speech. If Marceline were here, healthy and happy, she would tell her to just 'wing it', and now more than ever it seemed like good advice. She always was more insightful than I was… Pushing aside such negativity, the young scientist dismounted. The Morrow had landed within viewing distance of the cabin but had wanted to go no further than half-past Butterscotch Lake. She didn't blame her. Even the air felt tense and wrong, a sensation she could almost hear Jake describe as 'cursed'. Hold on, Marcy. I'm coming. She reached for her bag instinctively to call her gallant champions, provide them with a status update or instructions or just to tell them where she was, then cursed to herself once more, for in her haste to find her lover she had left it back at the cabin. She was on her own. With a deep breath she took one last look at The Morrow, a silent instruction to stay and wait for her, then pressed on to her ancestral home.
Unlike the pictures of the Grasslands that Finn had provided the air in this area was almost peaceful, save for the crushing tension of the atmosphere. There was no damage, no fire, no ruination. It was almost like nothing was wrong at all. The lake looked undisturbed, the sky was unobstructed, there were no screams or cries from helpless denizens. No sign of anything wrong at all on the surface; it was only when she reached her front porch that she found where it had all concentrated.
The good news was that she had found Marceline Abadeer, and she wasn't a pile of ash, a possibility Bonnibel was only now registering. The bad news was…. everything else, and Bonnibel's breath hitched at what she saw. ...I should have seen the signs. They were all there. I just wasn't paying attention. Her lover sat on the porch, legs pulled against her, forehead rested on her knees. A deep gash ran across her left thigh, which probably had something to do with the bloody claws she possessed instead of hands. It was deep, too, deep enough to stain her pants dark red, deep enough to obscure the true extent of the damage. But it wasn't healing, it looked fresh, and she thought she could see twitching muscle underneath. Just as fresh as the five marks raked against her abdomen. They danced against her shuddered breathing, sealing and reopening again and again. Surely the vampire, a creature of the night with heightened senses, must have heard her approach, if not The Morrow herself, but Marceline didn't move, didn't make a sound except for her labored breathing. Bonnibel had only seen Marceline like this once before, hundreds of years ago. It was horrible then. It was worse now. And she knew she was running out of time before they Passed the Point of No Return.
"Hey Marcy…" She took one deliberate step closer, just enough to make her presence known. Calm, slow, deliberate movements. The half-demon didn't respond. Jan said she destroyed half of the Citadel. The method she chose to run out of her house was frenetic. Those marks I saw on her arms and torso. I should have seen the signs. This is just like before… "Marcy? Can you hear me?" No response. "...Marcy, do you know where you are?" This time there was a response, a soft mumble that, to her shame, she did not hear. "Do you know where you are, Marcy?"
"...Go away," she whispered flatly.
Bonnibel swallowed. Her voice was thick and scratchy, almost unrecognizable. "Why do you want me to go away, Marcy?"
Marceline didn't lift her head, but she did shake it. "You're not here."
Against a frantic heartbeat Bonnibel kept her voice steady and calm. If Marceline ever needed support and guidance in her century of Unlife it was now, and it was a role the candy golem meant to fulfill, whatever it took from her to do so. "What do you mean, Marcy?"
"You're not…" One of her claws clenched, a trail of blood soon following. "You're not here. Not anymore. And you're not coming…" Trailing off didn't hide the raw emotion in her voice.
"...Do you know where you are, Marcy?" The queen fell silent, but Bonnibel prodded no further. If Marceline ran again who knew if she could be found before dawn? Every instinct in the young scientist screamed to go to her, to stop her very obvious self-destruction before she did any permanent damage to herself. That would be the logical thing to do... but logic had no place here. At least, not until the damage could be properly assessed. "We don't need to talk if you don't want to, Marcy, but I'd like to stay here. Is that alright?"
"...I remember," she whispered.
Bonnibel swallowed hard. She wanted to break down the situation, analyze through a clinical lens. But she knew she needed to not do exactly that. "What do you remember, Marcy?"
Now the vampire did look up. It was then that Bonnibel realized what those strange prick markings on her upper arm she had spotted while Marceline was changing had been. It was so obvious now that her mouth was flecked with her own blood from where she had sank her fangs into her arm in frustration and pain. But that missing chunk of flesh from her shoulder, that exposed muscle with blood reflecting the shine of the moon, wasn't her greatest concern. No, that was how far away garnet eyes looked, glassy and unfocused, and Bubblegum knew that when she looked to the sky she was seeing neither moon nor stars, only a sky of dust.
"...I waited. Here. For years. ...For you." Now she was beginning to tremble. "I waited. The others… they told me it was dumb. That you weren't coming back. I didn't believe them. I knew you'd come back. You… you always come back to projects you think are worth it. You never abandon anything you think has potential. You told me that once…" The clenched hand suddenly unclenched and, talons bared, raked across her left arm. Bile rose in Bonnibel's throat because she knew this behavior. This vain attempt of Marceline's to keep herself grounded, to not become trapped in her own personal nightmare. "So… I waited. I waited and waited and then… I knew I had to kill them. They were the problem. The reason you weren't coming back. I had to fix it. Then there was the fight and I was in the room…" Her voice grew flat and pained. "It hurt so much. All I could do was heal around it. I didn't want to. Couldn't get out. Just… I thought I saw you in there sometimes. Thought… you came back. There was nothing else to think about. Just… how to kill them and when you'd come back. But…" the claw released, falling away. "...You didn't. I'd think I'd see you, but you were never there. You're not here now."
Now it was Bonnibel's turn to tremble. This is it. This is the fallout of all of my neglect, all of my poor decisions. I made terrible choices, but you're the one afflicted with the consequences. "No… no, Marcy. I'm here now. We're in Ooo, remember? You're not in the room anymore, Marcy. You're never going back there ever again." Another step closer.
The vampire continued, so lost in her world that she didn't seem to hear, or perhaps only didn't understand the reassurances and promises offered to her. "...I just wanted to go home. I just wanted you to come back."
Step. "I came back, remember Marcy? How we took you out of the room and brought you back to Ooo? Finn, Jake, and myself? That's where you are now, Marcy. You're in Ooo. You're free now."
Her head shook slowly. "You're not here. You left. You took me out of my mind, stitched me back together with the others… but you didn't come back." Her eyes closed, forehead rested on her knees once more. "Why didn't you come back, BonBon?"
It was the despair in her voice, that nickname, that made Bonnibel finally understand the question she was being asked, the question she never understood because it had she didn't speak the same symbolic language as the musician and was only now beginning to learn. She… she's not asking why I didn't come get her in her mindscape all those years. This goes so much deeper than that.
It was, indeed, a catch-all for so many other unanswered questions, inquiries she had never allowed Marceline to ask of her because Past Bubblegum had seen such things as counter-productive at best, shameful at worst. Why had she missed so many meteor showers, even knowing that they had historically been a time of remembrance for the vampire, a time to reflect and focus on what she had gained instead of what she had lost? Why had she bailed on so many of her concerts, ignored her love songs for so long that the vampire just stopped writing them? Why had Bubblegum shattered her heart in an effort to drive Marceline away and focus more on the kingdom than the woman who helped her create it? Why had she locked Bonnibel the Person in a mental compartment to rot and let Princess Bubblegum the Role dominate her life? Why had she ignored the musician's cries for help for so long that she just stopped asking? Why had been so adamant that loved and cherished the older once, only to abandon her? But perhaps, more than anything, Marceline was asking one question above all: Why wasn't she good enough?
Bonnibel broke all protocol, everything that she knew to be logical and good, and increased her stride until she was past the lawn up the porch and pulling the older woman into her arms, letting her bury her face into the shoulder of the jacket that had until only recently been her own. That's what you were trying to tell me. Your rage about the dagger was only a symptom, and I didn't see it. I didn't understand the true cause of your animosity. Our minds work so differently. I saw a weapon. You saw the proof you needed that Bonnibel Bubblegum the person was truly gone, leaving only Princess Bubblegum the role. It was the final straw for a problem I was too proud to see.
"I'm so sorry, Marcy…" A pink hand began stroking onyx hair, and when she felt the sleeve of the shoulder Marceline was buried in grow wet her own eyes teared as well. "I'm so sorry. It's not your fault. None of this was ever your fault. I should have been there. I should have helped you." Her hold was light and hesitant, but when Marceline curled against her cautiously Bonnibel pulled her the rest of the way, tightening the embrace, letting her sensitive ear rest against her chest, just over her heart. It's no wonder you couldn't forgive me. "I'm so sorry. None of this has ever been your fault. You did everything right. I just didn't understand. I should have come back." She rested her cheek on top of her head, only semi-adequately controlling the waver in her voice, but as she was only slowly learning one does not pick and choose which hearguts one feels; it's all or it's none, at least for one so inexperienced in understanding them. "All this time you just wanted me to come back. You waited centuries just for that. Just for things to become what they used to be." When grey talons tightened, reopening a fresh wound a pink hand reached down, gently separating them. "You're home now, and we're together again." She kissed the top of her head, keeping her voice as calm and soft as possible. "You're safe, and I'm here. I'm going to keep you safe, okay? You've spent hundreds of years protecting me, now allow me to return the favor, alright? I know you don't believe any of this. Maybe you can't understand any of this right now. But I promise, Marcy. I'm back, and I'm going to help you. As a person, not a role."
It was disturbing to Bonnibel how similar this time was to the last time Marceline had experienced a severe dissociative panic attack. Back then she had lost control as well, though instead of the left wing of the Citadel it had been almost two-thirds of the budding Candy Kingdom Castle. She had clawed and bitten herself then as well, made every effort she could to fend it off and control the festering emotions, not understanding that this only fed into the attack, that such behavior could never stop it. She had hidden herself away then as well, though rather than choose the cabin she had hidden in a familiar lonely cave, effectively caging herself. Yes, the variables themselves may be different but the sames went right down the middle, and all of the signs that this was brewing beneath the surface had been there, if only she had cared to actually put the puzzle together. Bubblegum rested her cheek on top of Marceline's head once more, rubbing soothing circles on her back, yearning to tell her three little words she knew the older woman wasn't ready to hear yet. It was such a weird sensation, letting those squishy heartguts take precedent over those pointy logical parts of her. But there would be plenty of time for those parts, those pieces that helped her earn and keep her crown, later, when she wasn't holding Marceline's battered form in her arms, trying to soothe her into a more complacent state. To bring her home, of course. Nothing more. Yes. You're getting better at this. Well done, Bubblegum.
Bonnibel wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, just holding her lover, soothing her as best she could. It was no longer about presenting her worthiness as a mate, of posturing and displaying her nobility and grace under the circumstances. This transcended any of it, any of those trivialities. The candy golem knew she was the only one who had any understanding of what was happening, that even Marceline herself had a poor grasp of this situation. The last time she had had a panic attack of this magnitude she had ruined the Candy Kingdom castle, then fled just before dawn. It had taken days for her to come back, and years longer to work through the shame of what she had done. Only she had blamed herself, the shame entirely a figment of her mind, but she hadn't understood that, had been incapable of grasping that the young scientist was just thrilled she was home. She had spiralled a second time then, state-dependent memory triggering a second wave of despair. If this attack followed the same formula-
"...I did it again. Didn't I."
It was so soft Bonnibel would have missed it, if not for the unfamiliar scratchiness. But there was no mistaking the meaning, and it would do no one any favors to pretend she didn't understand what she was being asked. Without meaning to she held the older woman tighter. "There is some damage to the Grasslands, but nothing more. No one was hurt-"
"Tell that to the people whose stuff I wrecked," she replied quietly. Her eyes were turning glassy once more. "I destroy everything I touch."
She's gonna rebound, Bon. Remember what we talked about? With your gumball machine things? She breaks things and what do you do?
A pink hand traced up her back, setting it calmingly over the back of a grey neck, ignoring the royal purple collar. It was so easy for the princess to let her mind slip back into what had happened hundreds of years ago, how she had soothed her mate then, because the variables may be different but everything else happening around her, to her, to Marceline, was just so formulaic, and she was all about formulas. Bonnibel fell back into the muscle memory so easily, and the words flowed just as naturally. "Things can be repaired, Marcy. They're just objects. You didn't mean for any of this to happen. You reacted understandably, given the situation. Finn, Jake, myself… no one blames you." She held her tighter, minding the many wounds that may as well be decoration at this point. "It's not your fault, little bat." And then she tensed instinctively at that traitorous slip, because-
"You haven't called me that in years," the vampire laughed bitterly, scratchy voice accentuating the sentiment.
Bonnibel smiled softly, taking a chance and kissing her temple. She's right. But maybe... "No? Maybe I should start again."
Now where had she heard those exact words before?
Marceline fell silent, and the princess flushed slightly when she realized that the vampire hadn't exactly contested the offer. She had a different concern in mind. "...I did it again," she whispered once more, the reality of the situation began to merge with her less-than-stable state of mind. Now it was the vampire's turn to tense, but Bubblegum had no interest in allowing her to spiral, not when the young scientist was finally beginning to pull her out of that miasma of despair. "Calm, Marcy," she soothed, stroking the back of her neck, waiting until the tell-tale shudder before smirking. But only because the vampire couldn't see her. Even now, still so sensitive to touch… The gentle tone never wavered. "I'm more concerned about you. You're not healing, Marcy. You need to rest."
"I'm fine," she muttered. The blood soaking through her clothing said otherwise. As did how limp she was against the younger woman, how labored her breathing was, how she was still trembling-
"You're not fine, Marcy. Please, let me show you."
"That you've changed?" The mutter was only a little acidic.
"That I'm back." That gave Marceline pause, sincere and bitter-free, and the candy golem considered it an intellectual and moral victory.
The older woman turned, burying her face into her chest. "...You're a buttnugget. You're a dillweed, and I'm still mad at you. This… this doesn't change that." Though Bonnibel knew Marceline meant it the declaration lacked its traditional bite, the raw passion it seemed perpetually partnered with. There was only one proper response. "I know, Marcy. You have every right to be furious with me, and me being here isn't meant to change that. I never should have left, but I am back now." Another dare, she trailed her hand from her neck, cupping her cheek. Marceline didn't look at her, but she didn't pull away either. Her confliction was evident in the way she made a point to stare anywhere but at her, but Bonnibel knew that even if Marceline had indicated that she was forgiven the princess wouldn't accept it; the vampire was just too vulnerable at the moment to make such important decisions. "It'll be dawn soon. Come home, little bat. I promise." Promised so much: that she was home; that she understood the real problem; that she was sincerely sorry; that she would never leave again; that she knew she was wrong; that she would never abandon the other woman again; that while the world could only see The Role Marceline would only see The Person.
The pause. The pause as Marceline weighed the hefty promise in her mind, trying to gauge its sincerity through the haze. It ate at the younger woman, who counted the seconds to keep her sanity, waiting for any response. And then, at Sieben, there was the sound cracking bones, a pelt of fur, and a little bat curled against her, wounds still fresh, still unhealed, and once again Bonnibel was covered in her lover's blood. Not that this was the time nor the place to remark on this. As delicately as she could the candy golem dared she scooped up the tiny mammal, unzipping her jacket. Marceline's breathing was still labored and haggard, even her small wings shaking from the adrenaline shock, from her grave and existential exhaustion. She's going to pass out. "Just breathe, Marcy. I know you don't need to, but it'll help."
She was still settling the bat against the warmth of her chest when she heard two very welcomed voices behind her.
"There you are!"
"Man, we were looking all over-"
The jubilation of the brothers ceased when they saw her haggard expression. "You have wonderful timing, boys." She stood cautiously, turning to face them.
Finn's eyes widened at the sight before him. Fur could only hide so many wounds, after all. And there were so many wounds. "Is that… Marce?"
Ah. Yes. All the blood and gaping wounds. That would be jarring, I suppose. "Yes. She had a dissociative panic attack."
Finn's sympathy knew no bounds. As did Jake's confusion. "Whaaaaa?"
She sighed, cupping the fuzzy ear not pressed against her chest. Yes, the bat was definitely most unconscious, and though she doubted Marceline would appreciate her deepest secrets continuing to be shared with the world Bonnibel knew the boys could be of use. And that whole 'friendship' thing, she supposed. "When she saw the door in her kitchen she lost track of reality. We probably didn't help by priming her for the better part of the evening."
"So… what did all that to her? She looks hurts."
Bonnibel closed her eyes, tracing the bat's tiny claw. "She did. It's… this is all very complex. We made her more sensitive to a prone state of mind, and in this vulnerable state she…"
When she trailed off Finn offered an understanding smile. "We should get her somewhere safe. We can totes exchange notes after."
A wonderful plan. "How did you find us?"
Jake smirked, the smug look returning. "Went back to the house when we stopped hearin' from you. Schwabl told us." Her look was disbelieving. "Told ya, man. Dogs know what's up." Her look continued to be disbelieving, but he only stared back, unflappable, despite the fact that his story made absolutely no sense.
There were so many questions that sentence elicited, but for once the acquisition of knowledge was not of her highest priority. "...Alright, Jake. I'm taking her back to the castle. I'm better equipped to treat her there, and our bedroom wasn't too different within her mind." Now she looked to the heroes, surveying them, weighing the consequences of her next words carefully. "There's something else. I need you to survey the Grasslands. Marceline's house as well. We need to know the true extent of the damage."
He banged his chest twice. "Say no more, m'lady. We got your back. Come on, Jake! It's almost dawn!"
"Marce's house first ! The food lives there!"
She almost reminded him that most of the food in the vampire's kitchen was inedible to mere mortals but decided against it. He'll figure it out. I hope. Bonnibel watched her gallant champions take their leave before looking down, kissing the top of a fuzzy head, watching a tiny ear twitch reflexively. "This isn't how I imagined taking you home, Marcy… but it's safe there." A tiny garnet eye poked open before sliding shut, the bat falling still, save for the haggard breathing, and only then did Bubblegum zip the rest of the jacket. The sun was peaking over the horizon, the outside world was no longer safe for her mate. As she mounted The Morrow once more - knowing how much Marceline hated riding on the giant bird - Bonnibel stroked the bat's back through the cloth in ponderance. Marceline had tried to sequester herself in the Nightosphere, with disastrous results. Finn and Jake had suggested they try the cave house, with even more disastrous results.
As the journey back to the Candy Kingdom commenced Bonnibel Bubblegum pondered her next steps, the tiny bat's breaths almost acting as a metronome to focus them. When you needed Hambo I took care of it. When you wanged the castle apart I took care of it. When we identified your sedatephobia I took care of it. I'll take care of this for you as well, Marcy. You've earned that. There was no more room for error, and the princess was no longer willing to justify any further risks to the older woman's well-being. Her vampire would be safe now.
She would make sure of it.
Psst. Something special happens next chapter.