This chapter ran away with me and even though I tried to edit it down to a more acceptable length it's still a behemoth of a beast. So, you know, sorry it's long? I suspect that twenty chapters deep you probably don't mind a little irregularity in chapter length, right?
As ever a HUGE and SQUISHY hug for all my reviewers, favouriters, followers and you know what? Even to my lurker readers. I know you guys are out there! I love you too, my shady little lurkers. Also! I need ideas for one shots! Challenges, prompts, crossovers, whatever you wanna see. Just let me know. Cause this is nearly done and I only have like, ten other projects of various length in the pipeline. I need more to write.
Content Warning: unconsciousness, depression, survivor's guilt, some medical language.
"Marcy? Can you hear me? Come on, babe."
Her eyes flicked open after a second and Marceline stared up at Bonnie's anxious face. She was sprawled on the floor of her hospital room with her head and shoulders cradled in Bonnie's lap. What the hell?
"You got a shock and you fainted again." her girlfriend supplied helpfully when she saw the confusion in Marcy's eyes. They'd been talking about Bonnie's university. Oh yeah, now she remembered. Marceline frowned, annoyed.
"Wh-what do you… mean, you dr-dropped out? Y-you're supposed to be g-graduating this summer!" she demanded.
"Just for the rest of this year, until September. Then I'm going to resit my final undergrad year and graduate next summer instead. I just wanted to be around more to help look after you for right now." Bonnie replied in as soothing a voice as possible. She helped Marcy into a sitting position from where she'd slid onto the floor and then half lifted her upright again, helping her limp carefully back to her hospital bed.
"I hate that I'm making you… m-miss school." Marcy ground out between clenched teeth. It was still difficult to talk and walk at the same time and despite her intensive speech and language therapy sessions she was finding her new stutter more and more frustrating. The words were beginning to flow a little easier from her lips but it was still a struggle to form a coherent sentence sometimes. Her doctors kept telling her she was doing amazingly well but it still felt like a slow and often painful process. There were so many things she just couldn't do any more. At least she was capable of feeding herself and using the bathroom without assistance. Marceline had thought the shame of having to be helped to do those things in her first couple of weeks after waking from the coma might finish what her father had started and actually kill her.
"Are you mad at me?"
She jumped at Bonnie's quiet voice when the redhead next spoke. Marcy had been lost in her own thoughts for a minute.
"No, n-not mad. Just, I dunno. Worried, I guess. I don't want you… to, to throw away y-your education for me."
Bonnie took her hand and slid onto the bed next to her, leaning her head gently on Marceline's thin shoulder. She let out a slow breath and turned her face against Marcy's soft cheek before replying.
"Do you know," she asked quietly, "that watching you waste away in a coma was the single most horrible experience of my entire life? That every day I came in here, every single day, and I begged you to wake up. I cried, I got angry and yelled at you, I tried bargaining with you. I even prayed a few times, even though I felt really stupid doing it. I guess that seven stages of grief thing is true after all. But when you did finally wake up I knew for absolute certain I'd do anything if it would help you get better. We didn't even know how bad your brain damage might be, I didn't care. I just felt so helpless for so long watching you suffer and being unable to do anything to help. When you came back it was like a miracle. I'd give up far more than just a year of uni to make sure you recover as well as possible."
That was a lot to take in. Marceline was quiet for a few minutes, absent-mindedly stroking Bonnie's hair and trying to organise her jumbled thoughts. She supposed she'd never stopped to consider how awful it must have been for Bonnie and everyone else to watch her lie there and not know if she might wake up or die or just stay like that forever. If things had been the other way around she'd have done a lot more than just drop out of school, if Bonnie needed her.
"It's y-your decision… love, I just want you t-to look after yourself, too." Marcy finally replied, hugging Bonnie closer and resting her face against her soft hair. The envelope Petya had given her weighed heavily in her mind; she had a plan for what to do with the money but it was probably bad manners or something to keep it from her girlfriend. She made a decision, it seemed like the perfect time. "L-look in my nightstand. Th-there's a… surprise I want to sh-share with you."
Bonnie looked up at her curiously but did as she was instructed and opened the nightstand, peering into the gloom with a small frown on her face.
"What is this?" Bonnie asked, retreating from the cupboard with the letter in her hands. She frowned down at it as though she could read its contents through the thick envelope.
"Open it." Marcy told her softly.
The look on Bonnie's face as she read through the details of the letter was priceless. Marceline wished she'd thought to borrow Lady-camera.
"Jesus." Bonnie finally breathed. "I knew you were from money but this is insane. And all those properties too? And the businesses? You legally own, like, half of London now. What are you even going to do with all this stuff?"
She turned her astonished face to Marcy, who shrugged a little self-consciously.
"Br-break up the companies, at least. They're either sh-shells for drugs imports or o-only borderline… legal. I don't w-want to be associated with them. I'm g-gonna give the houses to a… a homeless charity. I d-don't want them. The... money is a surprise, y-you'll have to wait and see with that. I h-hope Dad's spinning in his… his grave."
"You are the most genuinely wonderful person I've ever met." Bonnie told her, leaning in for a close hug and then tilting her head up to claim Marceline's lips in a kiss. With her eyes closed it was almost like no time had passed at all and they were still in their fancy hotel, like nothing at all had happened. Marcy lost track of everything else completely; too focused on the soft lips pressed against her own and the warm hands that slid achingly slowly along the hem of her shirt. Bonnie's fingertips skimmed teasingly against the skin of her stomach and made her heart thud erratically. Marcy leaned back into the pillows and tilted her head to let warm lips find the most sensitive spot on her throat-
There was a deliberate cough from the doorway and they broke apart sheepishly.
"Hey, B… B-Mo." Marcy said. He just sighed and rolled his eyes.
"I am glad you're feeling well today." Mo said with an embarrassed blush on his cheeks. "I brought you something."
"That's my cue to need to be somewhere else, I think. I'll see you tomorrow, love. Take care." Bonnie told her with an only slightly awkward smile. She kissed Marcy's cheek and stood, nodding in greeting to Mo as she passed him in the doorway.
"Y-you're the worst… c-cockblock, y'know that?" Marcy told him as he sat next to her. He shrugged a little despite his obvious embarrassment.
"Actually you are not the first person to say that about me. Besides that is what little brothers are for. Trust me, I am over blessed in the little brother department. Like I said, I brought you something."
Mo rummaged around in the large canvas bag he'd been carrying before he pulled something out and laid it reverently on the bed by her leg.
"Aunt Betty's ukulele?" Marcy asked him with a frown on her face.
"I did not know which one you played regularly. I thought perhaps you would be bored, and it would help you get stronger." Mo murmured, not quite able to look her in the eye still.
Marcy leaned forwards and hugged him carefully, touched that he'd been so considerate.
"Y-you are such a... a closet sweetheart. But I'm scared I can't... can't play anymore." Marcy added, looking down at her hands with a pensive frown. She flexed her fingers, not at all happy with how thin and weak they felt.
"But you don't know until you try. And you can build up your hand strength with practice. Music is like, your whole life. I would be sad to see you give it up just because of your evil father." Mo replied, taking her hand and staring earnestly into her face. Marcy looked away, avoiding his eyes.
"I-it's not as simple... as that. The part of my b-brain that co-controls coordination got... got damaged. I m-might never p-play music again, I c-can barely... walk."
Mo frowned, squeezing her hand until she reluctantly turned her face back towards him. He could tell she was genuinely worried about it, her stutter got worse when she was upset.
"But you are getting better. You are walking and talking better every day and you are too talented to give up on music now. I learned about brains in school, different parts can learn to control new functions if you get hurt. So you can learn to play again. You are a survivor, Marcy, and you are my absolute hero. You are not allowed to just give up."
"B-Mo..." Marcy started, but she didn't know what to say so she trailed away into silence.
"Just, try it please? For me?" he asked with pleading eyes. She sighed and reached out to pick up the instrument carefully. Letting Mo down was not something Marceline was fond of. He was back to being adorable and kind and she'd have done anything for him if he kept on looking at her like she was magical.
The instrument felt weird in her hands, unfamiliar despite the many years of practice she'd had with it. For a moment Marceline just closed her eyes and thought back to when Simon had first placed it carefully into her lap.
"This belonged to your Aunt Betty, she learned to play on it when she was just a bit older than you. She always said it was the perfect size for tiny hands. You gotta make some chords, darling. Put your finger on the second fret there and this one on the third. Then this one here."
The strings were just as hard and unyielding as they had been when she was seven. In the months she'd been in a coma the skin of Marceline's fingers had softened, there was no longer any built up callous to protect her fingertips from the hard nylon. Just forming the chords hurt and she hadn't even tried to strum anything yet. Her fingers felt stiff and uncooperative. They didn't quite have the strength to push down the strings anymore and already her arms were beginning to shake from the effort of being held in position for longer than a couple of seconds. Marcy gritted her teeth and tried to shift between chords a little faster, tried to ignore the cramping pain in her hands and the shaking in her arms. The ukulele slid from her weak grip and before Mo could lunge forward it hit the floor with a loud crack. He retrieved it with a stricken expression on his face.
"We will fix it, don't worry. I should have been ready to catch it, I am so sorry."
Marcy just rested her head in her hands, defeated. She was sure she'd never play music again and now she'd trashed Betty's precious ukulele proving it to herself. And Mo had seen too, it was more than she could deal with.
"I th-think I need s-some... time a-alone." Marcy stuttered quietly, squeezing her eyes shut because dammit she was not going to cry in front of Mo.
"Marcy-"
"P-please." she whispered. He stood reluctantly.
"I will come back and see you again soon. Do not give up."
She waited until the door of the room clicked shut before letting out the miserable sob that had been building in the back of her throat.
...
Marceline didn't even bother rolling over to see who'd come to visit the next morning. She didn't have the energy or motivation and besides it was probably Bonnie again and she would understand. Except it was Finn's voice that addressed her, she did turn at that.
"Good morning Milady, rise and shine! Your beloved Pink Sprinkles sent us in her stead, to deliver a message! We're white knights, yo. Come to rescue the damsel in distress." Finn added with a crooked grin.
"Ignore him, he's been binge watching Game of Thrones." Susan butted in loudly with an eye roll, shoving the smaller boy in the shoulder playfully. Finn winced and his hands flew to his chest.
"Sorry man." Susan added, petting his arm much more gently.
"Y-you're hurt?" Marceline asked, sitting up and frowning at the blonde boy. He scowled back and nodded reluctantly.
"Cracked a rib trying to run in my stupid chest binder." Finn muttered, glaring mutinously at Susan. "I fucking hate that stupid thing. Someone thought it was bloody hilarious."
"It was." Susan agreed cheerfully.
"S-sounds... painful." Marcy frowned at him. "Bonnie's message?"
"Oh! Right, yeah. Your most glorious and fragrant bespectacled lady lover doth verily bequest us to inform you thusly that- ow, Sue!"
Susan had prodded him in the ribs again.
"Too slow, loser. Your girlfriend had to go sort out some paperwork with the university so she'll be in to see you later, probably after lunch. She sent us to keep you company because B-Mo can't keep his fat mouth shut and said you looked like you'd accidentally killed a puppy when you dropped your fiddly little guitar thingy yesterday. So we decided- I decided, cause Finn's a moron- that you've been cooped up in this room too long. We're going outside, put some socks on."
Finn glared at his best friend and flashed her a rude hand sign. Susan grinned back and signed something much longer, culminating in Finn sighing and nodding.
"Yeah, put your socks on." Finn agreed. Marcy just stared at them both.
"B-bu-but-"
"An excellent argument and one we're going to completely ignore, Milady." Finn cut across her, grinning widely.
And really Marceline didn't have the energy to argue. She had a headache again and felt pretty much like some invisible force was pushing down on her, squashing all of her feelings flat under its weight. Vaguely she registered that the depression was back. Her meds had gotten all fucked up while she'd been in her coma and she was still readjusting. But she didn't complain when Susan lifted her bodily out of bed and deposited her into her wheelchair with an audible sniff.
"You need a shower too, you smell a bit ripe." Sue told her conversationally as she wheeled Marcy out of the door, leaving Finn to limp after them. Marcy just shrugged, yeah she probably did need a shower. But she was finding it hard to think of a reason to care whether she stank or not.
"W-wait, we're really going outside?" she asked with a frown as Susan wheeled her through the doors that lead to the hospital grounds. The muscular girl grinned again and nodded.
"You're important to Bonnie and she's important to us. So you're important by extension. Besides we all got really attached to you when you were unconscious and we sat with you hour after hour. You don't know it yet but we're your best friends now. So yeah, we're going outside. Fresh air is important too and friends don't let friends sit around feeling miserable." Sue told her with a firm nod. Marceline just craned her neck back to stare at the muscular blonde. They were her friends? She was finding it hard to understand how she'd somehow managed to pick up a whole crowd of new friends without even being conscious for it.
"You g-guys are crazy." Marcy muttered to Susan. Then despite herself, despite the fact it was the middle of January and a miserable grey day and all the trees were bare, she smiled a little. The air was as clean as city air ever got; it was icy cold and stung her lungs when she breathed deeply. It was absolutely the best thing she'd felt in weeks.
"Finn, you're on the bench!" Susan yelled, and that was all the warning Marceline had before she took off at a run pushing the wheelchair hard in front of her. Susan was sprinting scarily fast along the concrete walkway around the hospital garden, whooping and yelling gleefully.
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING?" Marcy screamed at her around the entirely inappropriate laugh that was forcing its way through her lips.
"CHEERING YOU UP!" Susan yelled back. "AND YOUR STUTTER GOES AWAY WHEN YOU YELL!"
"WHAT?"
"YOUR STUTTER! IT WENT AWAY WHEN YOU YELLED!"
"S-son of a..."
It had gone away when she yelled, Marcy thought dizzily. She hadn't even noticed but that was an amazingly positive discovery. Her language centre wasn't irreparably damaged. She just needed to use a different bit of it to work around the stutter. Shame she couldn't yell at everyone for the rest of her life like Sue. But it did mean that if she could learn to use the same pathways in her brain when she spoke as when she yelled then she might yet be able to beat the speech problems she'd picked up from her subdural haematoma. Then she shook her head and smiled to herself; she'd thought all of that in Bonnie's voice, of course.
Susan made a brief circuit around the garden and spun the wheelchair to an abrupt halt in front of the bench Finn was lounging on. Marceline had to grab onto the arms to keep from falling out but it was too hard to complain about the sudden stop around the uncontrollable spasms of laughter rippling through her chest.
"My turn!" Finn yelled happily and without even thinking about it Marcy stood up and took three quick steps to the bench, taking his place with a grin.
"What?" she asked them bewilderedly after a minute when they continued to stare at her disbelievingly.
"You got up on your own and walked. You didn't even need someone to help you up, you practically ran." Finn replied, wide eyed and stunned. Marcy looked down at her bony legs contemplatively, still clad in pyjama pants and slippers.
"Cool. L-look at that, I can w-walk."
"Right! Finn, sit! We're tryna break my personal best!" Sue bellowed. Finn sat while she set off running again, pushing him in the chair and howling some ridiculous battle cry in an enthusiastically tuneless voice.
They took turns being pushed around by Sue for most of the morning, laughing hard even thought it was horribly painful for Finn's ribs. Marceline hadn't smiled so much since before her Dad turned up again and she honestly didn't think she'd laughed so much in even longer. Finn and Susan were really well suited as best friends; they were both so full of energy and enthusiasm that it was hard for Marcy to brood or mope. She didn't even really notice when the heavy blanket of depression slipped off her shoulders partway around her third circuit. She was too busy laughing and shrieking at Sue not to crash her into anything.
Marcy was sitting getting her breath back and watching Sue try to ride the back of the wheelchair down the tiny incline in the middle of the little garden when someone slid onto the bench next to her and a familiar hand found her own.
"Please tell me you didn't let Sue do that with you sitting in it? The last thing you need is to fall out and hit your head again."
"I-if I yell my…. stutter g-goes away." she replied instead, turning a smile as bright as the sun to Bonnie's startled face.
"Really? That's awesome! That means your brain still has instinctive speech, it's just the conscious control that's damaged!"
"Yeah th-that was what I thought, ex-except with more… sci-science words!" Marcy replied proudly.
"We should tell your therapist." Bonnie said happily, leaning in for a quick kiss. "I brought you lunch, figured these happy idiots would have kept you entertained long enough to miss your delicious hospital food."
Marcy made a face; the hospital had politely informed her that they did not cater to a vegan diet so there wasn't a whole lot she could eat when they brought her meals. And she refused on every possible level to eat any none vegan food, not after her Dad had done his best to deliberately poison her with eggs and milk. So Bonnie had been bringing her meals every day and conveniently experimenting with vegan cooking, she seemed to be quite enjoying it. But the box her girlfriend handed across wasn't from home; it was a take-out box and it had a familiar logo on the lid. The smells wafting out from inside were divine. It smelled a million times better than the gross hospital food she'd eaten for breakfast.
"We never got to try those vegan fajitas you were so excited about. And I was cycling past Ramiro's today and they were open for lunch so I had them box up a couple for you. Wrapped in foil too so they should still be pretty warm. They said to tell you hi and they hope you'll be well enough to come eat there again soon. They said your next meal there's on the house." Bonnie explained.
"Seriously? I f-fucking love you." Marcy breathed.
"I'm like, ninety percent certain you're talking to the fajitas right now." Bonnie replied, grinning nonetheless. "Hey Sue, Sport Gorilla! I brought you lunch!"
…
By mid-afternoon Marcy was beginning to yawn around her smile; she was still taking regular naps to help her heal which were about the only enjoyable part of being stuck in hospital for so long.
"You should go get some sleep, babe. Come on, I think we've walked the little sports doggies enough for now." Bonnie said with a smile.
"Watch it dork, I could totally use my brain muscles to think of a witty comeback." Finn replied, sticking his tongue out at her.
"Don't hold your breath." Sue muttered to them.
They said goodbye to Finn and Susan at the main entrance and watched them slouch off together. They were signing so fast Marcy was surprised their hands didn't steam in the cold air.
"Th-those guys are l…legends. Thanks f-for sending them."
"I was worried, Mo said you were so sad yesterday when you broke your ukulele. I knew you didn't have any therapy today and I didn't like the idea of you being stuck in your room without company all morning." Bonnie replied, squeezing her shoulder gently before wheeling her back inside the hospital building. Marcy missed the fresh cool air before the doors were even out of sight; she resolved to find a way to get outside at least once a day when she could.
Bonnie stayed for another couple of hours, reading while Marcy napped for a while. Once she woke again Bonnie spent the rest of the afternoon amusing Marcy with stories of how horrified Lydia had been to discover that the handsome blonde man she'd punched in the nose was the Ashar Bolshakov. Apparently she'd read about him in Vogue; the hot young model who was about to sign a huge contract with some big name underwear designer or something. Bonnie had stopped listening at that point, she wouldn't have remembered the names anyway.
"I'm g-glad Ash is doing…well." Marcy agreed with a smile. "He was a g-good friend to me. He even took… L-lydia's fist to the nose f-for me."
"Yeah, I heard about that. You know Lyds is too ashamed of herself to come see you, right? She came while you were unconscious but she's scared you hate her now. It's kinda her fault that… y'know." Bonnie indicated the shaved patch on the side of Marcy's head where the surgical scars were hidden by a couple of centimetres of regrown hair.
"Th-that my psycho Dad tr-tried to kill me? Y-you can say it, b-babe." Marcy replied gently. "It's not healthy to avoid… avoid tr-traumatic memories. She shouldn't b-blame herself, he'd have... found out about us sooner or l-later. I'd have t-told him myself, it was too... hard to hide how I f-feel about you."
"I know, I just… I don't want to sound like I'm trying to make it all about me because clearly it's not but it was traumatic for me too. I genuinely had no idea that anyone could do something like that to their own flesh and blood. Even my asshole runaway father wouldn't hurt me or Neddy deliberately. It's hard for me to say it out loud because it's just so difficult to get my head around, even now." Bonnie replied quietly. She addressed her feet, unable to look Marcy in the eyes.
"H-hey, it's ok. I know it was… hard for you, t-too." Marceline told her gently. "But it w-won't get easier if you don't talk about it. Gotta h-help you heal, too."
"I didn't get hurt like you did. Maybe I deserved it more; no parent should ever hurt their child the way he did to you. It's just so unnatural. I feel so guilty for not being there to protect you. It should have been me he hit and I should have been there with you."
Bonnie looked just as surprised as anyone to hear the words tumbling out of her mouth. Marceline hugged her. She'd had a feeling something like this might happen. She'd processed plenty of her own survivor's guilt after the fire; she hadn't been able to understand why she was still alive and almost everyone else she loved had died.
"W-will you come to group therapy with me tomorrow, l-love? And we… we can talk ab-about it together." Marcy asked her softly. Bonnie nodded, still looking down at her shoes.
"I know its irrational but I feel like I should have done something to stop him. You told me he'd hurt you and he did and I just sat at home being miserable and pathetic. I don't deserve you." Bonnie whispered.
"Alright, f-first of all 'deserve' isn't r-really a real... thing. You d-did exactly what I…I wanted you to, st-stayed away from him, stayed… s-safe." Marcy countered. "If h-he'd hurt you I would have k-killed him myself."
"You're genuinely the most wonderful human being I've ever met." Bonnie replied after a quiet moment. "And I absolutely do not deserve you, not at all. No matter what lovely things you say to make me feel better."
"Bullshit." Marceline snorted. "Y-you know that day at the museum? I watched you for… for like, fifteen minutes before I d-deliberately walked into you. I was admiring the sunlight in y-your hair. And I was too… shy to c-come and just say hello so I tr-trashed your camera like an asshole. Not that wo…wonderful now, huh?"
"You devious bitch!" Bonnie gasped, then laughed. "I did wonder if maybe it wasn't as accidental as it appeared. I mean, I was dressed in bright pink; you really couldn't miss me. I'm sure I should be offended but that's actually the cutest thing anyone ever did for me."
She kissed her girlfriend again and hopped down from the bed, stretching her back until it popped.
"I told Lyds I'd be home for dinner, I should head back. I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Sure, say h-hi from me. Tell her t-to stop being... weird and come s-see me."
"I'll tell her. Love you, babe."
"Love you too."
Bonnie kissed her again and smiled a little proudly, glad Marceline had managed to say it without the stutter. She was definitely getting better. But when Bonnie pulled the door to the room open she almost tripped over a large box that had been placed right up against the threshold. She brought it inside with a curious frown.
"Someone left you a parcel, it just says 'from your annoying little brother' on the label." Bonnie said, confused.
"Must be from... Mo." Marcy replied, sitting up and letting Bonnie slide the box onto her lap.
"Ah, he's decided he's your little brother and not in love with you this week? I bet that's a relief. You know how worried I was he might steal you away from me." Bonnie replied with a teasing smile. "See you tomorrow, love. Enjoy your mystery box."
Marcy blew her a kiss as she left then turned her attention back to the box. It was a home made affair; two cardboard chocolate bar boxes from Mo's father's shop cut in half and taped haphazardly together. When she carefully tore the top open a cascade of packing pellets covered her lap and the floor but she didn't even glance at them. Inside was Aunt Betty's ukulele. It had been professionally repaired so well that she couldn't even see where it had cracked. There was a brand new security strap firmly attached to it and a handwritten note threaded between the strings.
Heroes don't give up.
B-Mo must have spent his entire allowance on it; she knew from experience that emergency ukulele repairs didn't come cheap. With a fond smile Marcy settled back against her pillows with the strap secured around her thin shoulders and began the slow painful process of relearning how to play from scratch.