Happy Valentine's Day guys! Have a chapter, my gift to you. My amazing and very foxy fiancée brought me breakfast in bed this morning because she is perfect and beautiful and also a total foxy fox. I mean like, you could hunt her on horseback with hounds, that's how much of a fox she is. And she gave me a scarf with little pink love hearts on it! I'm feeling the love very much today.

This chapter involved a lot of research on subdural haematoma recovery prognoses, Glasgow coma scales, multi therapeutic rehabilitation protocols and British inheritance law. So next time someone tells you reading fan fic isn't educational you can confidently reply that the usual treatment for an acute traumatic subdural haematoma is a decompressive craniectomy to reduce intercranial pressure. Today in fan fic school we learned about emergency brain surgery ✿ ◠‿◠

Content Warning: medical language, warm and fuzzy feelings, shady gangster dealings.

"Do you remember what happened to you?"

Marceline shook her head bewilderedly. The doctor frowned and made a note on his chart.

"Do you remember who this woman is?"

He pointed at Bonnie who was still breathless from where she'd skidded around the doorway a couple of minutes earlier. They'd called her away from her family Christmas dinner with the news that Marceline had woken up, that the increased brain activity had meant she was improving after all. Bonnie's heart felt like it had doubled in size when the other girl nodded a little and smiled weakly.

"Mm. S'...Bon. S-she's... m'g-girlfren'." Marcy slurred after a moment's intense concentration.

"Do you know what day it is?"

"Chr-christm'?" she managed after a moment staring around bewilderedly. They'd put a decorated tree in the corner of Marcy's room and Bonnie was dressed in one of the garish festive jumpers her great aunt bought for her every year. Even still it gave her hope that maybe Marceline's brain wasn't completely scrambled after all.

After an unfairly long time Marcy's answers were getting less and less coherent. She stared imploringly at Bonnie until she got the hint.

"Hey, doctor? Can we let her sleep some and ask her all this stuff in the morning?"

The doctor reluctantly broke off from asking Marcy if she remembered the days of the week in order.

"She might not be fully responsive again for a while, after a prolonged period of unconsciousness it's normal for her to go back into a semi coma state. It might be a few more days before she's fully awake again." the doctor warned as he made copious notes on his clip board and frowned at Bonnie like it was entirely her fault that Marceline was tired and confused.

"Hey sweetie, I'm gonna let you rest soon. But I'll be back tomorrow morning with your Christmas presents and you better be awake, ok?" Bonnie said in a voice thick with emotion, squeezing Marcy's hand carefully. She could have cried with joy when her girlfriend shakily squeezed back and smiled at her.

"M'hu... hu?" she managed, tired eyes full of questions she had no strength to articulate.

"Yeah sweetie, you got hurt and you were unconscious for a long time but you're awake and you're gonna get better now. You got hit really hard on the head and you were really ill but now you're gonna be ok. I promise."

"H-hear...S-si... mon?"

"Yeah honey, Simon's here. I brought him to see you every week. I think it was good for him to get out, he's been a little bit more lucid recently. Especially today. But he can tell you himself, he's right outside. You've had so many visitors, love. Everyone missed you so much."

"An, m... D-d-da?"

"No, not him. He won't be coming to see you ever again."

Something was weird about the way Bonnie said that but Marceline was too tired, too confused to figure it out. Her head hurt like nothing she'd ever known. It ached with an agony that went so much deeper than the burns had; it felt like the centre of her brain was splitting open from the inside. Her throat was terribly dry despite the sips of water that the doctor had helped her take and talking wasn't working right. She was stuttering and slurring, struggling to remember which words went where and how they should sound put together. She didn't remember waking up too much either. There'd been music and Simon had been there and then there'd been a lot of noise and voices and nurses shining torches in her eyes. Then Simon wasn't there but Bonnie was- she couldn't process it all yet.

"You might not be awake again for a while and when you do wake up you might not remember this so much, or at all. But I need to tell you something important." Bonnie told her gently as she helped Marceline lie down comfortably and tucked the blankets a little more snugly around her. "Honey, there's no easy way to tell you this. Your Dad killed himself. They found him in his prison cell a week after you were taken into the hospital. He got hold of a razorblade somehow and cut his wrists in the night. I didn't think you'd want to hear it from anyone else."

Marceline just stared at her. Her Dad was dead? But… what? She didn't understand.

"He hit you and put you in hospital because he found out about us. Because he found out you're gay and he reacted exactly like you always warned me he would." Bonnie added quietly. There was a thick current of guilt running underneath her words; Marcy might be confused but she could tell that much. She squeezed Bonnie's hand again, trying to convey that she didn't blame her at all but unable to remember the words to tell her so.

"D-da, hu-hurt...?" she managed to mumble. God, her tongue felt two sizes too big, like a lump of weird heavy meat in her mouth. She felt like she'd forgotten how to form words properly and that fucking stutter was annoying her already.

"He did. He hurt you really badly; we didn't know if you'd ever wake up again. I was so scared for you." Bonnie replied. Her eyes were suspiciously shiny like she might cry. Marcy frowned and her facial muscles ached in protest at being used after so long. How long? It was Christmas, she should be able to work it out but her brain felt mushy and too heavy. She just knew it had been a while. And oh, she just remembered. Her father was dead. That was too big a concept for her to deal with. Marcy tried to push it away from her thoughts and focus on what was happening around her instead but it circled back and slid into her mind however she tried to ignore it. Her Dad was dead, she was an orphan. He'd hit her and put her in the hospital and now he was dead. He couldn't hurt her ever again. Her father was finally out of her life forever, he knew she was gay and now he was dead.

"He... h-hur... me." Marceline replied with more conviction. She was proud she'd gotten the words out mostly right that time. It was completely consistent with his character but Marcy didn't remember the attack at all. The last thing she could bring to mind before waking was Lydia yelling at her and Ash getting hit in the face. After that there was nothing, just a blank empty stretch of indeterminate length in her mind that should have been filled with memories. "M'glad... d-dead."

"Me too." Bonnie replied softly. She leaned in and slid her arms around Marcy's thin shoulders and held her carefully and protectively, like she was fragile and might break from too much sudden contact. Marcy couldn't quite remember how kissing worked either but she was more than content to just rest her head against Bonnie's arm and close her eyes.

"I thought I'd lost you." Bonnie murmured it quietly against Marcy's ear so the doctors and nurses still bustling around the door wouldn't hear. "I thought you'd just stay like that forever, or that you might die. At first they said you probably would. You weren't breathing on your own for the first week and they said you might be brain dead. You had a bleed in your brain and a lot of swelling and we still don't know what kind of long term damage it might have done. They had to perform emergency surgery to stop the bleeding and your heart stopped twice while they operated. You were dead for over a minute the second time. You were so close to never waking up again. And I've spent these last two months watching you barely cling on and regretting that never told you how much I love you."

Marceline pulled back to gaze into her wide blue eyes that were so full of emotion and filled with tears of relief. Up close she could almost count the golden freckles scattered across Bonnie's cheeks. That stirred a vague memory in the back of her mind. Lying side by side in a huge bed, close enough to kiss without having to move much and almost nose to nose. And she'd counted Bonnie's freckles then too and she'd already known what she was feeling way deep down. She just hadn't wanted to jinx it by saying it too soon, been too worried about scaring the other girl away. But it seemed like she'd nearly died and Bonnie was still there. Marceline didn't need to be told that second chances were rare or that she should seize the moment; she wasn't going to hold back for a second more.

"L-lo… love y-you." she slurred as carefully as she could manage, screwing her face around words that didn't flow as easily as they used to. "Love you… m-much. Al-al…ways, r-right… from… st-start."

And Bonnie couldn't stop the tears of relief from spilling down her face then, she really couldn't. She brushed a gentle kiss onto Marcy's lips and said her goodbyes again with a promise to return in the morning. Marcy was tired and she needed to rest soon but Simon was outside. Lucid for who knew how long and she didn't want to miss it.

But by the time the old man shuffled into the room she was already half asleep again. He just sat by her bed for the rest of the evening and held her limp hand. He told her all the things he remembered about her childhood while she slipped in and out of consciousness and smiled drowsily at him whenever she recognised his voice.

…

"Come on, three more steps and you can sit down again."

Marceline ground her teeth together and shot the overly cheerful physiotherapist a look that could have melted stone. But the large matronly woman just smiled at her and continued to beckon her forwards along the support rails she was currently struggling to walk between.

"It's d-difficult." Marcy snarled around the cramping pain and alarming shaking in her weak legs. As soon as she'd improved enough to leave the hospital she could go home and Bonnie was waiting for her, she just had to remember how to walk and speak properly first. Stupid Dad she cursed in the privacy of her own brain. Then she remembered he was dead and that was a good thing. She still didn't remember the night he attacked her but they said it might come back with time or possibly not at all. She hoped she wouldn't remember. Whenever she tried to think of it she could only recall brief flashes of pain and the feeling of hitting the ground with her head. Despite not being able to remember it properly the attack was already filling her nightmares right alongside the old traumas from fire. She was back in touch with the same post-traumatic stress therapists she'd seen as a teenager but so far it hadn't done a lot to help. But she was cautiously optimistic; with time and expert care Marceline hoped she could get to a new kind of normal.

She'd managed to shuffle the remaining three steps while she was lost in thought and that was definitely a huge victory for her so far. Walking was painful and too slow but she was making progress. She was able to walk five steps at a time now and she was a bit embarrassed by how proud she was of that. When she'd first tried to stand a couple of days after waking Jake had caught her before she could hit the floor which was awful nice of him especially since she didn't know the big guy so well.

It seemed like two months in a coma being fed through a tube could be the next fad diet; she was so skeletal that even Bonnie was able to lift her pretty easily and the slender redhead wasn't exactly muscular herself. But Marcy was improving, she was starting to get a little bit of her muscle tone back thanks to the several hours of intensive physiotherapy she had most days. Her balance and coordination were getting better at a steady rate too. She still forgot words and had the occasional fainting fit but from what the doctors had told her she was lucky to be alive and definitely lucky that she wasn't experiencing worse after effects. She'd suffered the most serious kind of brain bleed and being able to walk and talk even a little after just two weeks was apparently nothing short of a miracle.

Marceline hadn't taken a seizure since waking up but they'd warned her it was a significant risk and that it could happen at any time. The serious faced young doctor who'd done Marceline's observations when she woke again on Christmas morning had also brusquely informed her that she would need to take a whole pile of medication indefinitely and that she now had an increased risk of developing epilepsy, blood clots, strokes and another serious brain bleed. That had been a downer of a conversation.

"May I interrupt with Miss Petrikova for a moment?"

It was lucky she'd already sat down; the distraction could have sent her spinning to the floor if she'd looked around quickly while trying to walk. A face she recognised was peering around the door at her and smiling benevolently.

"P-papa Bolshakov! It's so good to… to… see you again." Marceline said with a bright smile. She struggled for a frustrating moment to recall the right words but she did mean it; the old man was probably the only person involved with the family that she could stand to be around other than Simon and Ash.

Her physiotherapist excused herself with a polite murmur and the older man came forward into the room and took a seat next to Marceline's wheelchair.

"I'm so glad you are awake and beginning to recover, my girl." Petya told her with genuine fondness. "How are you feeling today?"

"I'm as well as c-can be expected, th-thank you, sir. My head still hurts a lot and I can't- can't walk much yet but I'm getting… b-better." she replied with a shy smile. She was still quite self-conscious of her newly acquired stutter but her godfather ignored it completely which was a relief for her.

"Ah, it is good to hear that you are healing. I'm afraid I'm not here for a purely social call today, Marceline. I have some business to discuss with you but hopefully nothing that will cause you undue distress. Did you know that the first thing I did when I was released from my wrongful imprisonment was reopen my law firm?"

She shook her head carefully, not wanting to risk making herself dizzy by moving it too quickly.

"Well the court found that both your father and I were wrongfully imprisoned and that the cocaine that was found at his house after the fire had been planted against us by someone unknown. And that means there are no longer any restrictions on my practicing law since I am a free man with no convictions. One of the first people who came to me for my professional services after my release was your father." he told her gently.

"Oh. R-right." Marceline didn't really know what to say about that. She didn't want to talk to Petya about her Dad. She didn't want to talk about him ever again if she could help it, not even with her therapists. Despite the warmth of the room Marcy found she was shivering violently. Sometimes she thought she could feel her father's fist crashing into the side of her head although she still couldn't really remember the assault.

"Marceline, I do not want to distress you with this information. The reason I'm telling you is because he lodged a Last Will and Testament with me three days before he assaulted you." Petya explained. "And because he died before any criminal charges came before the courts his will still stands. It has already been through probate and approved by a judge which should have taken a lot longer but I was able to use my legal contacts and some family influence to speed the whole process up. You are the last Petrikov and Abadeer heir; your father left you most of his considerable fortune. You were always going to inherit one day. The money and deeds are only waiting for your signature."

She stared at him, not entirely sure she understood what he was telling her.

"He le-left me... m-money?"

"He did, an awful lot of it. Houses too, and a controlling share of a number of companies. But you are not the only beneficiary of your father's will. He believed that you and my Ashar were quite seriously involved- no, I already know it was a sham and I understand perfectly why you needed to lie." he forestalled her awkward explanation with a small smile and a wave of his hand. "And he left a portion of his money to Ash too, thinking it was for your future together. So you and Ash between you have inherited his empire and now you are both quite seriously wealthy. I have the full details here along with the deeds to your new properties."

Petya handed her a thick brown envelope and she took it with shaking hands.

"I will allow you to read through the paperwork at your own pace. And I hope to see you out of hospital soon. Please remember you are always welcome at our dinner table. Bring your lovely girlfriend, too." he told her with a fond smile creasing his broad face. He stood and took her hand.

"I- yeah, th-thanks. I don't know w-what to… say."

"Say nothing, I am simply fulfilling the terms of my employment. Perhaps the money will be some consolation. I only wish I had been able to save you from this pain." Petya told her gently. She could tell by his tone that he honestly meant it. "You were always a close friend to my Ash and you are welcome at our home at any time, day or night. I know we have not always been as good to you as you deserved but in the family we look after our own and you are the last Petrikov, no matter that you do not wish to be part of the business. However you wish to live your life you will always be our family. If you are ever in need of my services please remember that I am only ever a phone call away."

With that he kissed her cheek and took his leave of her. Marceline sat staring after the old man for a long time before she looked down at the envelope in her lap. She opened it slowly with deliberately careful movements so that her hands didn't shake too hard and damage the papers inside. Her eyes scanned the first page then skipped to the back and went wide. She wasn't sure she'd seen quite that many zeroes together on a legal document in her whole life. Marceline hadn't really understood what Petya had meant when he'd told her she was now 'quite seriously wealthy'; it seemed her father's various dubiously legal companies had still been paying into his accounts after all while he was in prison all those years. The money she'd thrown around as soon as she'd realised she could access it hadn't even scratched the surface. No wonder he hadn't noticed it. Marceline felt a slow smile spread across her face as she stared at the numbers and tried to take it all in. She knew exactly what she was going to do with all that money.

…

"It is all finished now, old friend." Petya murmured quietly. Simon looked around at the familiar voice and frowned when he didn't immediately recognise the other man.

"Are you the new doctor?" he asked, confused.

"I am your friend, Simon. I followed your instructions and I have been handling your niece's legal affairs while she recovers in hospital."

Simon frowned harder.

"Yes, Petya. I know you. What do you mean you're handling my niece's affairs? Why is Marceline in the hospital? Is she ill?" he asked.

"She has been very ill. Hunson assaulted her and she suffered a bleed in her brain but she is getting better." Petya explained for what felt like hundredth time. Simon clenched his scarred fists and bared his teeth.

"I'll fucking kill him. How dare he! She's just a child! I'll-"

"Do not upset yourself, Simon. I already took care of him; he won't lay a hand on anyone ever again." Petya cut him off with a note of satisfaction in his tone despite having already told his old friend all about it.

"You took care of…? You had him killed? Petya, you brutal, magnificent bastard!"

Petya grinned, he couldn't resist it. He and Simon had been close friends since they were boys together and as confused as the old man often was these days he knew Petya's style. Simon had been there by his side the day they'd dipped a wailing baby Marceline in the font and he'd promised the Almighty to watch over her. Petya wasn't too clear on whether there was even a God to break his promises to but he wasn't about to let Simon down where his beloved niece was concerned.

"I paid a struggling prison warden to cut his wrists and make it look like suicide. Paid him in Hunson's own money. I thought it would be appropriate. He delivered a message too and let the bastard know that you and I had arranged it. Hunson's out of the picture completely and now there is conveniently room at the top for someone more subtle to guide the family business."

The scarred man nodded but he was still frowning thoughtfully.

"I don't disapprove but Claudia will be heartbroken. She won't hear that he's scum." Simon told him with a sad shake of his head. Petya just nodded, he had no heart to explain to his old friend that Claudia had ignored everyone's warnings and it was fifteen years too late for anyone to help her now.

They sat together in the chintzy lounge of Simon's care home drinking tea and talking about long past memories. Simon remembered things from his childhood so much better than more recent events and Petya enjoyed reminiscing with his oldest and closest friend. Petya had been a year below Simon at school and the two of them had been as thick as thieves since the time they could both walk and talk. They chatted about school holidays with their fathers on the coast, smuggling alcohol into Simon's student accommodation and staying up far too late drinking and listening to old rock'n'roll records together before he became a serious archaeologist and Petya set up his legal practice. Eventually the evening began to grow dark outside the windows and Petya knew he must leave soon. He had dinner with his son and his charming partner to look forward to. After fifteen years away Petya had no desire to miss a minute more with his family.

"Marceline will be provided for; you can rest easy on that account my friend. The family will watch her and make sure she achieves her dreams. Even if she does not know it we'll be looking out for her. She will be successful in her endeavours, the very least I owe her is to help that happen." he told Simon quietly as he eyed the nurse pottering around at the back of the room in case she overheard. "I signed all the paperwork in Hunson's name and she has inherited most of his money. I hope you'll understand that I provided for my Ashar too. A man has to look after his own, you understand. Neither of them will ever struggle nor starve."

Simon nodded; he understood that perfectly. Hunson had been so wealthy and there was no reason not to provide for both of their children.

"You forged Hunson's signature on the will? That was smart; he would never have agreed to split his wealth. Look after my little godson too, Petya." Simon told him with a smile. "Ashar has such a bright future ahead of him and you know the family will help him in whatever he chooses. They're the best of us, old friend. Once you and I are done there will be precious few who even remember what the family used to be when it began. Make sure they both do well. I never want Marceline to feel that she has to take part in the business; she should be free to make her own choices. Ashar should, too."

Petya nodded, relieved that he had Simon's blessing for what he'd done for his son. He'd been forging Hunson's signature on legal documents for so long that he didn't even need an example to copy from anymore. His old friend was more right than he knew; Ash and Marceline both had such bright futures and he would move heaven and earth to keep it that way. It was what one did, for family.