You get this one early because I'm leaving for a con in like... four hours so I won't be here tomorrow to update you. Oops. Also gonna troll you a little with the end of this chapter. Because I get a kick out of that kind of thing.

"So are we worried then?" asked Jake, making another sandwich. His plate was already piled precariously high with them, each sporting a differently coloured filling. He never seemed to stop eating; it was almost marvellous how he didn't end up insanely obese. Until his shape-shifting abilities were brought to mind and then it was less confusing.

"Why?" asked Finn, rocking back on his chair and tossing a paper plane at the ceiling.

"Bubblegum hasn't been outside her tower in weeks," Jake replied slowly, lining up the edges of his sandwiches as though it were the most important thing in the world. "Peppermint won't even let us in the doors. That's unusual bro."

The paper plane reached the pinnacle of its arc and swept in a broad downward curve across the room. It hit BMO in the back and fell to the floor. Finn frowned and launched another plane on a slightly different trajectory.

"PB's probably just making things blow up in glass bottles, man," Finn said nonchalantly. "Or buried beneath a stack of boring kingdom paper things." He pursed his lips a moment. "She should get me to make planes out of them, then she'd have some fun."

The second plane landed on BMO's head and the little computer's screen made a frowney face at him. BMO tossed the paper back at Finn and tottered across the room, climbing up onto the chair beside Jake.

"Somehow… no," Jake said. He picked up the stack of sandwiches and tried to fit the whole teetering lot into his mouth at once. "I don't think she'd appreciate that much, bro."

"What about Marceline?" Finn asked, beginning to fold another plane. "Do you think she'd be down with paper planes?" She'd been gone for a while too. Her cave was empty and they hadn't been able to find her anywhere. Perhaps she'd gone to visit her dad again.

Jake shrugged. It didn't matter which way he rotated the sandwiches; he couldn't get them to fit. So he expanded to the size of a bear and most of that was mouth. Grinning, he plopped them in and shrank back down. Finn didn't quite understand how that worked, but it did. "If you can find her maybe," he said with a burp. "But she's pretty good at hiding."

"Yeah," he sighed. He flipped the plane and this time it looped straight through the hoop he'd glued to the wall earlier. Finn jumped to his feet and let out a whoop. "Did you see that, bro?"

"Nah I missed it."

Finn glowered at him.

"So you don't think we should even look for Marceline again?" asked Jake. He rolled his lips, glanced at the clock, then set about making more sandwiches. "I know she goes off a lot, but not usually for this long."

"You're worried about the vampire who scared you almost to death?" Finn asked wryly. "Classic."

Mustard squirted half way across the room as Jake flinched from the words. "Great," he muttered, slamming the bottle onto the bench. "Yeah I'm worried. Something's happened and they're hiding from each other, Finn."

"So?" Finn waved a hand and a nonchalant fashion. "They argue all the time. They aren't the best of friends you know."

"Let's go check her cave again at least," Jake almost pleaded. "Then we'll stop by Lady's place. She might make us dinner."

Finn sighed, but clambered onto his friend's shoulders. "Fine. And stop thinking about your stomach or we'll have to go shopping again."

*...|...*

"Marceline still isn't home?" Lady asked softly when they arrived a few hours later. "And Bubblegum still won't leave her tower?"

They shook their heads. "Have you been to see PB lately, babe?" Jake asked her, giving her a hug.

"No." Lady looked sad. "She's not seeing anyone. The only person who even gets close is Peppermint and he's being very obstinate about guests. She issued orders. Orders!" She sighed. It must be going around.

"That's it," Finn said, punching his palm. "We have to crash that palace. No more hiding."

"It doesn't work like that, Finn," murmured Lady. "Not with her. Just leave her be for a few more days. Something's bound to happen."

"I don't like the sound of that," the hero groaned. "You make it seem like something bad will happen."

"She just needs time, Finn."

"It's already been nearly three weeks," Jake informed Lady solemnly. "How much time does she need?"

Lady looked out the window at the moon. "Hard to say. She judges time differently to the rest of us." She turned her spectrum encompassing eyes back on the pair of them. "Just don't push her. She'll be fine."

"I'm fine!" she shrieked through the door. Footsteps ptter-pttered down the hall, floorboards creaking occasionally where they were loose. Alone, sick of the patrol past her door that hadn't been cancelled once she had recovered from her illness, she sank onto the foot of her bed. She rubbed her eyes and fell backwards. Pillows bounced on the mattress, several falling off.

Bubblegum groaned. Her eyes were gritty and had uncomfortable mauve patches underneath them, evidence that she wasn't sleeping again. Despite her outburst, she wasn't fine. At all. Her head felt full of wool and every sound screeched against her skull like nails on a blackboard. Her work wasn't engrossing anymore and she couldn't walk outside. Couldn't. Sunlight no longer held warmth.

The worst part was the hole in her stomach that never seemed to fill. It redefined gut-wrenching. "Truffles," she sighed, turning her face to the balcony doors. Moonlight blazed through the glass, only a wafer thin slice missing from one side. Three weeks it had been since the party, three long painful weeks. And every night she lay here, watching the unlatched door and hoping.

But that familiar silhouette never materialised.

She closed her eyes and clutched her pillow close, hugging it to her chest like it could offer some solace. It couldn't. But she clutched it anyway, a horrible parody of a panacea that couldn't fill that hole.

Wind whispered past the window, branches tapped on the glass, floorboards creaked in the hall. Moonlit music that wasn't good enough. Tonight though, it proved to be a melancholy melody that pushed her to the brink of sleep. It didn't quite tip her over that edge though.

A breeze played with the curtains, the chill climbing her spine. Had she left the door open? She couldn't remember. But it was so comfortable, so warm, wrapped up in her blankets that getting up to check was out of the question. Her eyelids were heavy and she wouldn't give up the chance for a solid night's rest. Nightmares didn't count.

So when a soft strrm fluttered from the rafters down to tickle her ears she was almost oblivious. The sound was familiar and her whole body relaxed as though it had lifted all her worries away. Another note followed the first, another, a fourth. It became a tune that was only a little mournful, but heartfelt too. Emotion went into that sound; the kind of emotion that comes from so deep down inside that it doesn't have a name. It just fills you up to bursting and bubbles out, first in a trickle, then a rush until you're babbling and awkward.

Humming joined the music, soft, uncertain, searching. The words on the tip of the tongue but not quite framed yet. Words that were steeped in just as much sentiment as the music, only hesitant because words can hurt. They can make you laugh and cry and they can break your heart. And these words, these pending syllables… they were heartbreaking.

But the tune was deceptive and sincere and Bubblegum smiled into her pillow, holding it tighter. Not sure if she wanted to hear the song or give in to the sleep that had been evading her so completely of late, she wavered. In the end, she forced her mind to stay awake, eyes closed because opening them was too much effort, but listening just the same. She wanted to know what the words were. She had to know what the wrenching in her chest was and if her heart was beating in time to the music for a reason. She had to know.

So she listened.