It took way too long for Finn and Jake to come back.

Marceline watched the ant crawl in circles on the top of the tent, tracing the same path again and again until she wondered how the ant could keep going like that without getting dizzy.

She tried to sleep—she really did. But she only managed several short spurts of shuteye before jerking back awake, jolted prematurely from dreams of wings and talons and pink.

She rubbed her eyes.

"Can't sleep?"

Marceline groaned. "I'm sorry if I woke you, Bonnie." She flipped to her side to see the princess's pink eyes opened slightly. "It's this whole transformation thing—I'm trying to calm down but my body won't let me."

Bonnie let out a tired chuckle. "It's fine, Marcy." The princess lifted the edge of her sleeping bag: an invitation. Marceline took it, warily, and closed the gap between the two of them.

Almost instantly, Marceline's eyelids began to droop. She thought being this close to Bonnie would trigger other emotions, ones that would keep her from sleep rather than encourage it. But the girl's body was warm, and Marceline was so tired. She snuggled in close. Sleep found her, and this time she stayed under.

Too soon, the door of the tent was being unzipped, and she could hear Finn and Jake arguing on the other side. She let out an involuntary hiss at being woken up so soon and pulled the sleeping bag over her head. She felt Bonnie chuckle beside her.

"This will work," Jake was saying. Both boys stepped into the tent, and Marceline threw the sleeping bag off of her face, irritated.

"Whatever you say, man," Finn rolled his eyes and looked at Marceline. "Ready to go home, Marcy?"

Relief rushed through the vampire so thoroughly that she forgot to be irritable for a moment, and instead jumped up to hug Finn in one arm and Jake in the other. "Thank you thank you thank you," she said. "I'm so ready. I'm never leaving my cave again."

Finn laughed and playfully shoved her away. "All right, all right. Let's do this biz."

Ultimately, the solution Finn and Jake had come up with was completely ridiculous—they had gathered as many umbrellas as they could find and taped them together to form a kind of umbrella ball that Marceline could float in the center of while someone else rolled it to the cave. She thought she and Bonnie could have figured out a much easier solution, but she didn't really care.

After last night, she was just glad to be home.

She thanked Finn and Jake as they left, and then she threw herself down onto the floor, utterly exhausted.

"Here." Bonnie handed Marceline a crisp red apple—supplied by Finn and Jake—and sat on the floor beside her.

Marceline took it gratefully, but she didn't eat it. Just rolled it back and forth in her hands, thinking. Maybe—maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing if she remembered her old life. She sunk her fangs into the apple.

"Part of me wants to remember," she said to Bonnie after a while.

"It's up to you," replied Bonnie.

Marceline shook her head. "I wish it was an easier decision." She cast a sideways glance at Bonnie, wondering exactly what the girl was thinking.

Marceline stared back down at her apple, which was now completely drained of color. "Maybe we should just do it."

Bonnie raised an amused brow. "We?"

Marceline gave her a look. "You know what I mean. Maybe we should just—" Bonnie bit her bottom lip and Marceline's eyes shot toward it. "—do it," she finished.

"Do it?" Bonnie said, clearly stifling a grin. "As in, perform the act that has had the most success so far at drawing the memories out of your head?"

"Ugh, I know. It's a terrible idea." Fed up with herself, Marceline threw the red-drained apple across the room and then buried her head in her hands. "Why am I like this?"

Bonnie put her hand on Marceline's upper back. She started moving it in comforting circles. "It is a terrible idea," she agreed. "Considering I have to return to my kingdom eventually. Not to mention the fact that you're not sure what you want. But you're fine. You'll figure it out."

With a huff, Marceline let herself fall backward onto the floor. She spread her arms out and stared at the ceiling. "I want to kiss you so bad it's driving me crazy."

Bonnie pursed her lips, hand falling to her side. Then she sighed, and lay down next to Marceline, mirroring her posture and staring at the ceiling as well. "Listen, Marcy. I know you don't have that many recent memories of us but—" Bonnie's eyes traced the spots on the ceiling. "—but I've had to live with wanting to kiss you for like a hundred years. It gets easier." She tapped her fingers on the carpet.

Marceline said nothing, but she turned her head so she was facing the princess and narrowed her eyes. Bonnie met her scrutinous gaze only to look away almost immediately. "Okay, fine," she said, raising her arms toward the ceiling. "Half the time I wanted to kiss you and half the time I wanted to punch you in the face. That's not the point."

Marceline couldn't help it—she burst out laughing. That was so much more like Bonnie.

"What?" the princess looked genuinely surprised at Marceline's mirth, but the vampire just waved her away and wiped a stray tear from her face. In her fit of laughter she had floated several feet off the ground without noticing.

Bonnie sat up, and some of her hair fell into her face. Marceline wanted to brush it to the side, but she ignored the impulse and instead floated several inches higher, just in case.

Bonnie looked up at her with a thoughtful expression. The princess bit her lip, and Marceline's eyes locked on the motion. She wanted to be the one to bite that lip.

Mortified at the direction of her thoughts, Marceline tore her eyes from Bonnie's and did a quick summersault in the air so she didn't have to face her. Upside down, Marceline almost wished she could have her memories erased all over again.

"We could always, you know, do it anyway," Bonnie said, way too casually.

Marceline was so surprised she suddenly forgot how to float and she crashed to the floor in a heap, still blinking away the shock. "I thought you said it was a bad idea," she said, voice muffled by the carpet.

She looked up in time to see Bonnie shrug. "I still think it is."

Marceline stared at her. Bonnie stood up and dusted off her pink pants. "It's up to you. It's not a big deal unless we make it a big deal, right?" Bonnie pushed her hair out of her eyes and gave Marceline a questioning look.

Marceline scrambled to get off the floor. "I. Um."

Bonnie crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. "Right," she said. "Your memories."

"Look, Bonnie, I want to. I mean I really want to." Marceline shoved a hand through her hair. Glob dang, she wanted to. "But I just—"

"It's totally fine, Marcy." Bonnie flashed Marceline a smug smile. "I understand. Forget I said anything."

Suddenly Marceline was angry. Why did she have to be such a flustered, bumbling mess while Bonnie could just stand there and talk about this stuff so casually? Marceline wanted to wipe that smug look off the princess's face.

She had pounced before she even really knew it was happening.

Marceline slammed her hands flat on the wall on either side of Bonnie's head, and smiled wide enough to show her pointed teeth. "Totally fine, huh?" she said.

Bonnie's eyes widened slightly, and she swallowed. Marceline wasn't sure if Bonnie had acted the way she had on purpose in order to get a reaction from her, and right now she didn't particularly care. She let her right pointer finger elongate into a vicious claw to trace along Bonnie's cheek and delighted in the princess's slight shiver.

Regaining her composure a little, Bonnie smiled again. That same smug, self-satisfied smile that had Marceline's skin burning with anger and irritation and another feeling that was rising, fast, from the pit of her stomach. "So you're going to kiss me then?" Bonnie said.

Oh, that she would—but she was going to force that arrogance from her face and make Bonnie wish she had never tested her.

Marceline grinned, moving closer, and it was the fierce, feral grin of a predator coming in for its prey. Bonnie's superiority was gone in an instant, replaced by something else entirely.

Marceline traced her claw down Bonnie's cheek and under her chin, tipping the girl's face up to meet hers. She leaned down toward her mouth, watching the princess's lids go heavy, then she kissed her jawline instead.

Bonnie stiffened, then relaxed all at once while Marceline trailed slow kisses down her neck, across her shoulder. Bonnie moved her arms to grip Marceline's waist and pull her closer, and Marceline growled against her skin, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from the princess when her fangs scraped across her neck.

Marceline pulled away, worried she might have hurt her, but Bonnie's eyes were fogged over and she was breathing heavily and Marceline licked her lips, savoring the taste of that pink. She grabbed Bonnie's hips and the girl wrapped her legs around Marceline's waist, and Marceline pushed her a bit harder against the wall. She grazed her teeth over that lovely, lovely pink skin again, savoring the noises Bonnie was making in response.

Memories were flooding Marceline's head now, but somehow they were much easier to push away. They came and went with the rise and fall of her chest, with every frantic beat of her deathless heart.

Bracing herself, she finally brought her lips to meet Bonnie's, and the resulting burst of emotion was so raw it was almost a physical blow. Marceline groaned against Bonnie's mouth, but she fought through the memories and held the princess tighter, anchoring herself in the present.

Marceline tried to hold out, but her head was beginning to pound with the force of the memories. When she pulled back, both girls were breathing hard. They stared at each other, wide-eyed, then they both broke into huge grins. Marceline touched her forehead to Bonnie's forehead, closing her eyes, and the princess laughed.

Marceline was more confused than ever, though. All these memories she was getting—they were all of the same nature. She and Bonnie kissing or clutching each other in a heated embrace or tangled up in blankets. Somehow it was much easier to handle when all of her memories were like this, all relatively similar. But it was much, much harder to ignore them.

And it was much harder to ignore how much more she wanted when it came to Bonnie.

Marceline questioned, not for the first time, why she didn't just consent to let Bonnie try to recover all of her memories. It made so much sense to her when her mind was clear, and when Bonnie wasn't so close to her. Marceline remembered that crippling loneliness she had felt the moment she first woke up and her new life had started, and she was terrified of what it meant. Bonnie had said more than once that the two of them hadn't been very close for a long time, and Marceline didn't want to go back to that. Even though she had no way of knowing how it felt, she couldn't imagine a life without Bonnie in it.

A few long moments later, Bonnie let her legs straighten out and her feet drop to the floor. "Well," she said. "That was fun."

"Shut up," Marceline mumbled, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. But she was grinning, and so was Bonnie.

It was okay, Marceline decided. This—being close to Bonnie like this, laughing with friends, discovering herself within her new life—it was okay. Plus, she reasoned, still grinning at Bonnie like a buffoon, she could always make new memories.

"Oh, I almost forgot." Bonnie hurried to her backpack and pulled a package from within, something wrapped in plastic, and handed it to Marceline, sitting on the floor beside her. Raising a brow, Marceline unwrapped the parcel to reveal three crimson roses. "It's a thank you," Bonnie explained. "I had Finn and Jake pick them up from the Garden Kingdom."

Marceline sniffed the roses, unable to keep the grin from her face. "For what?" If anything, she owed Bonnie a bundle of thank-you roses.

"For being there for me," Bonnie said, nudging Marceline with her elbow. "Even if you don't remember it."

Marceline raised her eyebrows, but she still couldn't stop smiling. "Well, you're welcome then."

"I've thought about this for a long time," Bonnie said, twirling a piece of her hair between her fingers absently. "And I've finally decided something."

"What's that, Bons?" Marceline picked a single petal from one of the roses and raised it to her teeth.

"I've decided—I've decided that this is enough."

Marceline paused, red rose inches from her lips. She lowered it slowly, and frowned. "What's enough?"

Bonnie gestured to her, to the roses, to the two of them seated on the thin carpet of Marceline's living room. "This. You. Us."

The sweet smell of the roses suddenly seemed too sweet; sickly.

"I've been turning it over and over in my mind, trying to figure out how to get the old you back," Bubblegum continued, oblivious to the growing feeling of nausea in Marceline's stomach. "But I've decided that it's enough. Even though you aren't really the same person, Finn pointed out that everyone changes anyway, and I've been thinking that maybe your change really is all for the better, especially when it comes to—Marcy, are you okay?"

Marceline stared at the red of the flowers in her hand. "It's enough?"

"Yeah, Finn helped me realize—"

"That I'm enough?" Marceline finally met Bubblegum's eyes. "I'm enough?"

Bonnie's eyebrows knitted together, and she opened her mouth to speak. But Marceline was faster. She dropped the roses to the floor and stood up, taking a step backward. "Me, the way I am? It's enough for you?"

Too late, Bonnie realized her mistake, and her eyes widened. "No, Marcy, that isn't—I didn't mean—"

But Marceline knew better. She knew exactly what Bonnie meant. A dull roar began to sound in her ears, like water rushing inside her brain, rushing toward whatever was keeping her old memories from coming to the surface. Rushing, and then colliding; and then the images came in waves and Marceline was flooded with years of heartbreak in a single moment.

She doubled over on the floor, clutching her stomach and squeezing her eyes shut as if that would keep the tears in. This. This was what she had been so afraid of.

She let out an agonized cry, and Bonnie reached out a hand. Marceline snarled at her, though the movement had her seeing stars. "Get out," she growled, but she didn't know if she was talking to the princess or to the memories in her own head.

Bonnie hesitated, then straightened. But she didn't leave.

"Get out!" Marceline cried, and this time it was directed at Bonnie. Not just the princess sitting in front of her, but at every echo of the princess in each of Marceline's memories; years and years of Bonnibels: saying goodbye, explaining that this was all for the best; fighting, ignoring, forgetting. Marceline hugged herself tighter as pain blossomed through her chest, phantom pain torn from a hundred different memories of Bonnie leaving, just like this.

She wanted the princess gone, all of her.

Slowly, almost as if she had expected this all along, the princess stood up and began gathering her things.

Marceline barely heard Bonnie close the door behind her, and it was a long while before she could breathe without sobs punctuating each breath, and longer still before she could even begin to lift herself up off the floor.

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Hello. Sorry I fell off the face of the earth there for a while. There was a medical scare in my family, but I'm back and hopefully will begin uploading regularly once again.

As always, thanks for reading!