Thanks so much for the lovely feedback on the last chapter! Since this story is already completed and sitting in my inbox ready to post I'm just going to go ahead and post the next chapter, why make you wait more than necessary, right? I am working on other things though and there are at least another three request fics in the works for you lovely people. So. Many. Requests. It's brilliant but also keeps me pretty dang busy.
As with the last chapter, please be aware that my knowledge of American accents comes mainly from movies and games but I have had genuine US citizens, some of them from so far south they're almost at the Mexican border, check it over and declare it fit for purpose. But even still, I don't wanna offend anyone. So heads up there's some Southern dialogue heading your way in this chapter.
Content Warning: grief, homophobia, racial slurs, backstory.
It was twenty four hours later. Marceline's hangover was still rumbling around in the back of her head when Jake's friendly girlfriend Lady dropped her off about a mile and a half from the house. She'd spent the night on their sofa after drinking into the early hours and as she trudged off up the track feeling sorry for herself the remains of her headache pulsed behind her eyes like a second heartbeat. Marceline distantly wondered how young Jake must have started drinking to have that kind of built up resistance, she hadn't really had anything to do with alcohol until she'd been in college but it seemed like they started early out in the middle of nowhere. But it had been fun, the first genuine fun she'd had in months. Years, maybe. At least since she'd stopped playing with her last band; they'd had a great time but everyone had finals and there just hadn't been enough hours in the day for studying and rehearsals and all. It had been good to hang out with Jake and Finn, Lady and some of their friends, watch some crappy cable TV and drink some beer and just spend time around people her own age, be sociable for once. Nobody had ever accused Marceline of being a social butterfly but she did enjoy the company of others sometimes.
As she neared the house Schwabl came trotting out to meet her and Marcy narrowed her eyes. He'd been securely left inside last night so he didn't get cold in the subzero temperatures and there was no way he'd figure out how to get out on his own. She'd even locked the front door when she'd left for the night; Simon had never but Marceline felt uneasy just leaving the place unsecured even if there was nobody else for miles around. It was a city thing. In San Diego she wouldn't have gone a step past the yard without locking all the doors.
"Should I be looking for a heavy stick to protect myself with?" Marcy muttered to the old dog as she slid silently behind a tree and gazed anxiously up at the house. Schwabl just whined and slumped down by her feet.
There was movement around the doorway and a moment later a woman emerged from the house. Marceline narrowed her eyes at the stranger. She didn't look like a burglar, she wasn't taking any care to be quiet or keep her hands covered. And she was staring around like she was looking for someone; she kept glancing over to Simon's old pickup which when Marcy took the time to look was in front of a truck she didn't recognise. She assumed it must belong to the stranger who'd apparently let themselves into the house. Deciding that it was safe unless the other woman had a gun tucked down the waistband of her pants and not really caring if she got shot anyway Marcy took her courage into both hands, strode out from behind her tree and took a breath.
"HEY! This is private property, what are you doing out here? You better have a good excuse for breaking into my house! I'm not joking, I'm friends with the Sheriff's deputy and he-"
"Is Simon around?" the stranger cut her off before she could detail how Finn might be convinced to come investigate. Marcy stopped dead in her tracks and stared at the woman. "Just, he had an order in with me and I needed to run through a couple more details. I tried calling but nobody picked up. I don't suppose you'd have any idea of his niece's approximate weight and height?"
"Around a hundred and thirty pounds, just under five feet nine. Do I need to explain to you why it's amazingly rude to ask a woman how much she weighs?"
This time it was the stranger who stared hard, ice-blue eyes assessing every line and angle of Marceline's face. Finally she nodded.
"You don't look related. I'm sorry, I just assumed Simon's niece was also, um, you know."
"White? Yeah. A lot of people assumed that. But we weren't blood related, he was my mother's mentor when she was in high school and I called him 'uncle' sorta as a respect thing. And he died last week. Nobody told you?"
The stranger slipped down onto the porch step, looking like she'd just taken a heavy blow to the head.
"He- he... how?" she gasped. Marcy came and sat down next to her because she was tired and still had a headache and didn't want to go through the details without at least being a little comfortable.
"His buddy came out to see him when he missed an appointment in The Big Town. Found him in bed, real peaceful like. The MD over in Nome said it was a massive stroke, said he probably didn't feel a thing. I was the only thing like kin he had so they sent the letter to me. Got here as quick as I could."
"I'm so sorry. He talked about you a lot, he wanted me to make a sled for you. It was a graduation present, he wanted to christen it in the Teller Hundred with you. I already made the harnesses and runners, I just needed to know how high the handle bar should be. I'm opening up my own sled shop out of Teller, I guess that's the big town you mean?"
"Nobody around here calls it Teller. It's The Big Town, it's only Teller on the maps. Huh, he wanted me to race? I've never been on a sled in the snow, never even been here in the winter before." Marcy added wistfully.
In her mind's eye she was seeing herself and Simon flying across the arctic snowfields in dog sleds; something that could never happen now. Grief was strange, Marcy thought as the familiar tears began pouring down her face again without any warning at all. One night she could be chatting animatedly with new friends, drinking and laughing and having a good time. The next morning she might suddenly remember that there was so much she'd never get to do with her beloved uncle. They'd never share that beer Simon had promised he was keeping for her, he'd never come to see her play a gig. And without any warning she might find herself sitting on the porch of his house bawling her eyes out and completely unable to stop the traitorous tears while the local sled maker tried say something comforting. She vaguely wished grief was at least a little predictable.
"Hey, come on now, it's ok. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Simon was so proud of you, you know? So proud. He told me all about you, said we'd be such good friends when you came up in the winter. You were like a daughter to him. Is it true you came home from your first ever fishing trip with a rainbow trout the length of your arm?" she woman asked gently, awkwardly patting Marcy's back.
"Mhm. Some tourists staying at the cabins took me out in a rowing boat and we caught a whole brace of trout. Carly let me bring the biggest home." Marcy sniffed, ashamed of herself. "Simon talked about me?"
"All the time. He kept telling me how well you were doing at college, told me you majored in music. He was so proud of having a professional musician in the family. Said you were gonna be the next Dolly Parton. It's good to finally meet you, Marceline. My name's Bonnie, by the way. I'm pretty new here too. I'm from Fairbanks originally, I moved out here after college. I'm an engineer." the woman told her with a smile. She stuck out her hand and Marcy shook it, wondering what the hell an engineer from Fairbanks was doing making sleds in the middle of the wilderness north of Nome.
"So why come all the way out here? Doesn't seem like there's much work for an engineer in the middle of the tundra." Marceline replied, making a half-hearted stab at being polite about it. She was still sniffling but shame was beginning to stem the tears; at least the other girl had stopped her awkward back patting for now and was petting Schwabl instead. Marcy definitely understood if she found it easier to talk to the dog instead of another human and she sympathised with the need for hands to be kept busy. It took the other woman a few moments to gather her thoughts and she pulled in a lungful of cold crisp air before she replied.
"I came up to my great-uncle's cabin after graduation last year and decided to stay a while because it's just... I've never been somewhere more peaceful. I'm doing some research into the optimization of the sleds, figured Nome would be a decent base for it since the Iditarod comes through every year. They're in Fairbanks too but there's a lot more competition out there, figured I'd stand out from the crowd if I was fixing their sleds halfway through the race. I was hoping to meet some professionals and show them my designs, maybe land myself a job. I like building stuff and Simon was gonna help by commissioning a race-winning sled for you. We worked out the design together, that's why he gave me a key in case I needed to come by when he was out of town. I- I can't believe he's gone."
Marcy nodded, she couldn't believe it either. Hard to know what to say to that, or to the whole revelation that Simon had been building her a sled and it sounded like he'd been hoping she might move home finally. Because nowhere else felt like home, not really. And these were her people; even the awkward sled designing engineer with the long, artistic looking fingers that skimmed nervously through Schwabl's thick fur rather than reach out and offer more clumsy comfort. She made a decision. This was her land, her earth and her people. She would get to know them; all of them.
"Come on inside, I was gonna boil up some water and make some coffee anyway. You can tell me more about this sled and the race and all. I know just about nothing about dog sled racing." Marcy sighed.
She whistled for Schwabl to follow them back inside and got up, noticing that as well as an artist's hands the other woman had light red waves of hair the same color as the fall leaves sticking out from underneath her hat and a real pretty cast to her face. And that was how Marceline met Bonnie, how she ended up registering as a racer in the Teller Hundred. It was what Simon had wanted, after all.
...
For the next couple of months there wasn't much to be done except running with the dogs and tramping around the house moping as the weather grew colder and colder. The snow fell in brief flurries but it didn't stay long, Marceline longed for the ground to be thickly blanketed in powdery whiteness like it had in her childhood imagination. She had no appetite for changing anything in the layout or decoration inside the house and she was glad for the distraction of Bonnie coming around every few days to talk dog sledding and training and just generally be a friend. The redhead's visits got much more frequent after the first week when she walked in to find Marcy quietly crying on the sofa hugging one of Simon's sweaters. It was like a few times a day her brain reminded her that the only father figure who'd ever really cared about her was gone forever, or she'd have a sudden flashback to her childhood summers there and be instantly crippled with grief. She'd notice something small, like Simon's old radio that he'd repaired time and again at the kitchen table. And then the tears just forced themselves out of her eyes again no matter what she did to stop them.
It was an especially cold day and the sky was so dark and leaden that Bonnie had been in two minds about whether to risk the long drive over. But in the end she hadn't seen her friend for three days, she didn't really know that many other people in the area and perhaps it was just her general nose for trouble but something told her to go over and check on Marcy despite the blizzard warning. Besides, she knew how to handle her old truck even in the worst weather and the threat of snow wasn't enough to put her off the visits that were always the highlight of her week. So Bonnie threw a couple of extra blankets and flashlights in the back of the truck just in case she did end up stuck somewhere, jumped up behind the wheel and set off in high spirits to her friend's house with her heart beating just a little faster than was strictly necessary when she considered the possibility of seeing those wonderful lips curl up in a smile. The weather held for the drive and she decided she'd been lucky and that making the decision to go was a good call. She was intensely glad that she listened to her instincts.
"Marceline?" she called, letting herself into the house by habit and staring around the deserted lounge.
Schwabl came limping through from the kitchen to greet her, whining happily and dusting the floor with his wagging tail when he sat to beg for a treat. Bonnie petted him distractedly before taking the stairs two at a time and almost tripping over her own feet in her haste. Nobody was in either of the two tiny bedrooms upstairs, the bathroom was empty too. She glanced out of the window; the sled dogs were gone so it was pretty likely Marceline had taken them out for a run. Her fitness had been increasing in leaps and bounds with days spent jogging through the undergrowth with ten excited huskies and the dark haired girl seemed to really enjoy the exercise. It pulled a sad smile to Bonnie's face when she realized that running with the dogs was probably one of the only things Marcy really enjoyed; it must be pretty lonely in the evenings being out in the woods with only the company of ten huskies and an ancient poodle crossbreed.
And then another thing occurred to Bonnie and she looked out the window again. Snow was beginning to fall thick and heavy from the sky, hadn't Marceline told her she was excited to see really heavy snow for the first time? She'd only ever been there in the summer, she'd never seen a genuine Alaskan blizzard firsthand. Bonnie was suddenly very worried for her friend; she fled backdown the stairs and only stopped to grab the jacket hanging by the front door on her way. It was typical; of course Marceline was deep in the woods in what was shaping up to be the first real blizzard of the season without even thinking to bring some extra clothes. Visions of Finn Mertens and his police buddies finding Marcy's frozen corpse come the spring thaw had adrenaline and fear pumping equal measure through her bloodstream; she had to find Marceline and get her someplace warm before the blizzard let loose with everything it had. Bonnie wrenched the front door open and hurled herself out into the whiteness. She didn't get more than half a step onto the porch before she collided with something surprisingly solid that knocked her hard to the ground and drove the air from her lungs.
"What the- Bon? Hey, sorry! What's up? You ok?"
For one dizzy second Bonnie had no idea who was addressing her or what was happening. There was whiteness pelting through the rapidly gathering gloom and something mostly white-speckled was looming over her and then she was staring into those same beautiful brown eyes that glowed in the afternoon sun that she'd secretly admired since the first time they'd met.
"Marcy? It's snowing." was all Bonnie could think to say, dazed and breathless as she was.
"Yup, I'd noticed. I might be a southern belle, darlin', but I still know what it means when white stuff comes down out of the sky. Did you hit your head or something?"
"No, I was worried about you! I didn't know where you were and it was snowing so heavy and I thought you might get lost!"
Marceline snorted at that and stuck out a hand to help her friend back to her feet.
"As if Gunther and his crew don't know their way home. I was at the end of the track when I saw your truck come up the road, I waved but I guess you didn't see me."
"Must have missed you." Bonnie mumbled, embarrassed. "You, ah, I wanted to see how the dogs were getting on and honestly, I was just a little bored. I missed you."
"Lemme put these guys back in their kennel and we'll hang out." Marcy replied with an easy smile, nodding to the ten panting dogs behind them.
The biggest, Gunther, was growling quietly to himself; he was unfriendly around strangers and had only grudgingly accepted Marcy because she was feeding him. He followed her to the kennels at the back of the house but whined plaintively when she opened the gate for him.
"Come on, fatty. You like the snow, you're a sled dog. This is like, barbeque weather for you." Marcy sighed when he just sat down and fixed her with a decidedly sassy stare. "Fine, you guys can spend the night in the house. Just because I'm nice like that."
She jogged up the back steps and opened the door in the kitchen; all ten huskies immediately rushed happily inside. Marceline shut them in and shook her head helplessly.
"I hope I wore them out enough. If I come back later and they tore the house apart I'll make them into a fur coat, Cruella DeVille style." she muttered to Bonnie. Then she grinned and grabbed the redhead's arm. "Come on! Snow!"
It was really coming down; the ground was already covered in a deep white blanket and once the dogs were away Marceline gave herself over to the simple joy of staring up at the sky and marveling at the swirling whiteness.
"You're like a kid in a candy store." Bonnie observed with a smile.
"I, uh, don't laugh at me. I've never seen real heavy snow before. Not like this. This is like something from a movie." Marcy admitted, still staring up at the darkening sky.
"But... seriously? You're a Native, this is your home. You own a house just below the Arctic Circle, you're training for a dog sled race. And you've never seen heavy snow before. You're an enigma, Marceline." Bonnie replied with a small smile. The taller girl didn't reply, just continued staring up at the dark sky like it was the most amazing thing she'd ever seen.
Bonnie took the opportunity afforded by her friend's distraction to take in every detail of her face; impossibly high cheekbones and perfect red lips, long straight nose and keen jawline. Of course Marceline hadn't bothered to bring her jacket since she'd been jogging and Bonnie was struck by the strength in her shoulders where her thin shirt clung to her frame; lithe and trim beneath the undeniably feminine curve of her silhouette yet still quietly powerful. Marceline was something a little wild,just a little fierce. And it took Bonnie's breath away.
"You're staring at me." Marcy murmured with a shy smile. Bonnie blushed and looked away.
"It's just sorta... I dunno, like, I get to see you discover snow for the first time. It feels... private? Sort of, personal I guess. I dunno, I feel like there's a better word for it."
"Intimate."
"What?"
"The word is 'intimate'. It's an intimate moment to watch someone discover something that's so deeply connected to their sense of identity."
Marcy grinned suddenly, breaking the tension, and spun unexpectedly right around with her arms spread to the sky. She let out a delighted laugh, very much like a kid in a candy store.
"It's snowing! Why are we talking all deep and junk when it's really properly snowing? Do you know how long I've wanted to see this sort of snow? Every year I begged my father to let me come here for Christmas and every year he told me no. And now I'm finally here in the snow!" she beamed. She stuck her tongue out to catch a snowflake and Bonnie laughed, unable to fight the infectious joy of watching her friend so transformed from her grief and silent mourning by the simple act of witnessing the first blizzard.
Marcy let out a small noise of disappointment, totally out of place when she'd just been so joyful, and Bonnie frowned.
"What's wrong?" she asked worriedly.
"It just tastes like cold water." came the reply.
"Yeah? What did you expect it to taste like?"
"I dunno, I didn't really think about it. Ice cream, maybe? I just expected it to be sweet, I guess. Like, something's missing."
Bonnie's brain made one of the strange connections that sometimes came to her when she wasn't expecting them to. Something sweet. She always had a small pack of hard strawberry candies in the cab of her truck for longer journeys and ever since she'd been small it had been habit to slowly melt one on her tongue as she sped down the highway. Marceline wanted something sweet to make her first snow experience everything she'd been hoping for. And maybe the magic of the moment was intoxicating too right along with the dark haired girl's enthusiasm and joy because Bonnie found her hand reaching out to grasp Marceline's arm without her remembering to decide to do that. But she'd thought about it plenty over the last couple of weeks and Bonnie wasn't the sort of girl to hold back when there was something she badly wanted. She pushed her nerves to one side, she knew what she was going to do.
"What-"
Marceline didn't manage to get more than a single word out before Bonnie was tugging her forward into a soft and sweet kiss. In the swirling snow and dying light it seemed right, like it was something they'd both known was going to happen from the first time they'd met. Perhaps it wasn't the longest or deepest first kiss but it was sweet, the sweetest kiss Marceline had ever had. After a warm, cautious moment she pulled back and took a surprised breath, smiling even more brightly than ever.
"Yeah, that... that's what was missing. Sweet, like that. Do you, ah, wanna come inside?"
"If you want me to." Bonnie replied shyly, grinning down at her shoes and blushing for all she was worth.
"Yeah. It's snowing too heavy to drive home, I'd be scared you'd have an accident or something. Stay, if you want. I mean… you know. If you want. I'd like that?"
The redhead leaned back in for another sweet, soft kiss and her decision was made. She stayed the whole night and the night after and really it was hard to leave even two days later. So she went back to her cabin when the weather allowed, gathered some clothes and her few possessions, and she stayed for as long as Marceline wanted her there.
...
After that first heavy blizzard there were more, so many that really it wasn't safe for Bonnie to try to head back to her cabin again after the one time she went to get some clothes and her things. It was lucky that she'd brought the custom built sled with her, carefully secured in the bed of her truck and almost completely finished now that the race was only two months away.
It may have been Marceline's first winter there but she'd had enough forethought to stock up on supplies so it was a solid two weeks of giggling in bed and messing around with the dogs in the snow before they had to venture into The Big Town for any groceries. Schwabl rode in the cab of Marceline's pick up with them as was his custom and he sat outside of Ron James' store almost blending into the snow pile. They'd only taken one step towards the doors when someone yelled Marcy's name across the street and she turned to see the sheriff's deputy hurrying towards them with a grin plastered across his earnest face.
"Finn! Hey, buddy. How's it going? Ran off any polar bears recently?" she asked with a teasing smile.
"Nah, it's too early in the season for bears. Watch yourself towards the end of the month though, yeah? They've been known to come right up Main Street when they get hungry." His eyes slid to Bonnie and his cheeks colored from just a little more than the cold; Marcy took a protective step ever so slightly closer to the redhead. "I didn't know you guys had met yet. Bonnie's our newest sled designer, she's staying down the other side of the lake."
"We've met." Marcy replied shortly. She reached out to thread their fingers together and Finn nodded, clearly oblivious to the intimacy that gesture implied.
"Ah cool, always good to get new faces around the place. So, um, Bon, you around in town for a while?"
"Staying up at the house with Marcy probably till the spring now. It's closer to town and saves me driving so much." she replied coolly.
"Huh, cool. You, ah, wanna come grab a beer tonight?" Finn pushed, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.
"Sure. Can I bring my girlfriend?"
"Um, I mean, I was thinking like, just the two of us, no friends... uh... like, a date, sorta thing..."
"Not my friend, Finn. My girlfriend."
His eyes flicked between the two of them and down to their entwined hands and his mouth formed a silent 'oh'.
"Wow, when Marcy said I just didn't have enough breasts for her I thought she meant she was into really fat dudes, you know? Thought she was gonna fight Lady for Jake." he announced, trying to make a joke of it.
"You're a dumb guy, Mertens. Sweet, but as dumb as a rock. C'mon, babe, we gotta get some stuff." Marcy sighed in reply, turning back to the store.
"You can still come for beer tonight if you want." Finn told their retreating backs.
"Yeah, maybe. We'll see what we're up to." Marcy replied, hoping Finn was smart enough at least to figure that was code for I'll be in bed with my girlfriend. She wasn't completely certain he was.
Ron James' store hadn't changed at all since the first time she'd stepped foot in there, save that the ageing proprietor was now wearing a thick sweater despite having the heating turned up. He smiled when he saw Marceline but the expression turned sour and rigid when he noticed Bonnie and their still clasped hands.
"Never figured you for one of them types, Abadeer." he told her, like it was any of his fucking business. "I told Simon, rent to those tourist fags and see what affect it'll have on the girl, and look at this now. Outsiders and queers comin' through town and-"
Marceline had let go of Bonnie's hand and rolled her shoulders in what the other girl recognized as her 'squaring up' gesture. When she spoke it was with a distinct southern drawl; something she slipped into by habit when she was pissed off rather than her usual careful mimicry of the clipped, brisk accent most folk in Teller used.
"Listen here, sir, y'all better pull your head outta your ass fore' I knock it off your damn shoulders. What I do or don't do in my own home with my good lady ain't nobody's business but ours and if you don't need no custom from 'our type' we'll be glad to drive on over to Nome and fetch our groceries instead. But don't y'all dare tell me what my uncle woulda or wouldn't have approved of, Uncle Simon was a better man than you could hope to be, y'hear me? Now we're gonna buy some food an' you're gonna serve us real polite like and we'll say this never happened. Or you can keep on keepin' on and we'll take our money elsewhere."
"You sure got your Daddy's temper, girl. Wasn't scared of him and I'm not scared of you. Damn Abadeers and your punk attitude, you're just like the damn lot of them. Get out of my fucking store before I call your deputy friend and have him haul your queer redskin ass into the back of his cruiser. Go on, get out!"
Marceline swelled with indignant rage but Bonnie's hand on her arm stopped her and instead she whirled on her heel and marched right back out the door.
"That bastard!" she exploded angrily the moment they were out on the street. "Who the fuck does he think he is? I could have him arrested for discrimination! Piece of shit, the fuck does he think he's calling a redskin? Natives outnumber whites nine to one in this town, does he want me to start a boycott? I'll start a fucking riot,run him right out of Alaska! Bastard!"
"Marcy, calm down. He's just a stupid old bigot. Come on, we'll drive down to Nome." Bonnie sighed. She didn't much want to make a scene, there were already a few curious locals peering at them down the snowy sidewalk.
"Nome's seventy miles away, it'll take all fucking day in this weather. Where's Finn when you need him? You know, I thought moving back to Alaska to a mostly Native area would mean less discrimination. You know what I had to put up with right through high school? 'Hey Eskimo girl, caught any seals today? Hey Eskimo, ain't you scared you'll melt in the sun? Fuck off back to Alaska, Eskimo Bitch, your type's not welcome here.' All that usual racist bullshit with a little extra crap thrown in for being gay and female too. Well fuck that old bastard. We're going to Nome."
Marceline jumped back into the cab of the truck, still scowling for all she was worth, and keyed the engine to life. Bonnie climbed up to ride shotgun and whistled for Schwabs to follow, giving him a quick hug and quiet apology that they couldn't bring the treat they'd promised. It was a long and mostly silent drive. As angry as she was at least Marcy wasn't stupid enough to try to rush along the snowy highway. She drove carefully but below the surface her anger still boiled, hot and intense. After a solid half hour of tense silence the redhead spoke carefully.
"Your accent goes real southern when you get pissed off." she observed.
"You try going to school on military bases in Georgia, looking different and speaking different and having a Yupik Mom who wants to tell you about seals and the Northern Lights and how to track hares through the snow. You learn to talk the same way as the other kids real quick if you don't want your head pushed down the toilet again."
"What did he mean he wasn't scared of your father? Your Dad was from around here too?" Bonnie asked quietly. Marceline sighed and gripped the wheel tightly enough for her knuckles to turn white; Hunson wasn't a subject that was going to improve her mood any.
"Yeah, he was from around here. So was my Mom, obviously. They met on a program for kids who'd had problems with the law. Everyone knew my father and not for any good reasons. Guess he must've gotten into it with Ron James some time, not like he'd tell me about it though. He fucking hated it here, hated the cold and the snow and the wilderness. Hated his family and his old man most of all. Got out as quick as he could; the only decent thing he ever did in his life was agree to marry my Mom after he knocked her up. Daddy was the local bad boy, not that you'd know it to see him now. Simon told me, said he used to strut around the place in a leather jacket smoking roll ups and being a general nuisance. Thought he was James Dean or some shit. Acts like a goddamn bank manager now though, you'd think he spent his teen years as a choir boy or something. Always breaking into stores and starting fights, and getting into it with Grandpa Abadeer, of course. They used to scream at each other up and down Main Street. Anyway, the short story is my Daddy got my Mom pregnant, ruined her life, took her away from her family and the place she loved and then couldn't even be bothered to send her ashes back so she could rest up here after she died. And I was only ever a problem to him, he was bored of her long before I was born and he never gave a shit about me. Still doesn't. I called him to say I was staying here and I could hear him shrug down the phone line. All he said was not to bother looking up anyone from his side of the family. If my Grandpa was alive I'd go visit just to spite my bastard father, just so I could hear him choke down the phone when I told him. My family are so messed up."
Bonnie didn't reply, there wasn't a lot she could say and I'm sorry didn't quite seem to cover it. But a moment later Marceline felt a warm touch on her thigh and she took one of her own hands off the wheel to lace fingers with her girlfriend in silent support. It was weird, it almost felt like those slender fingers gently clasping her own had caused some of her anger to evaporate; she didn't even mind when it was past eleven by the time they got back from Nome laden with as many supplies as they could load into the back of the truck.