Chapter 32: Gone Now

Part One

He was surveying a city when he heard it. Among the torn and burning wreckage, crumbling, destroyed by itself, something ripped worse through the air. A child crying and screaming among the sounds of death the earth itself put forth. Alive! There was someone alive out there! Bulging pack of research and history laden on his back, Simon stumbled over rocks and debris to locate the noise. Pestering in the back of him mind, he heard a crumbly static voice whisper, Who cares, in a painfully carefree way. He paused a moment, yanking out his scrapbook and staring at pictures of himself, of the world as it used to be, of Betty. My name is Simon Petrikov. I am an archaeologist and survivor. My Princess is lost and…I can't remember why. No! It was the crown. I'm surviving because of it, but I will find another way. My name is Simon Petrikov. My name is Simon Petrikov. My name is Simon Petrikov.

He shoved the book quickly back into his pack, pounding his fist on his skull, as if trying to hammer his past into place. Oh but the crying! He scrambled further towards it. "Father!" it cried. A girl…just a little girl… "Father! Someone! Anyone!" He rounded the corner and realized it wasn't just a little girl, but that didn't stop him from throwing his pack aside and sliding up next to her. She turned to him and whimpered, "Who are you? Are you here to hurt me too?"

Simon slowly placed his hands on the girl's bony shoulders in kindness. She's far too thin…and the air is so wonderfully cold…he blinked away the troubling thoughts of interference and smiled. "No, no, I…my name is Simon Petrikov and I'm…well…I used to be an archaeologist. You know…collecting old tomes and such. Like my crown. My awesome crown." He patted at it against his hip before realizing what he was doing and trying again to shake the thoughts out of his mind. Still, the girl, vampire, looked at him in fear. His bones crackled as he stood up and looked around, whispering soft, "Wait here."

There, not too far off, was a toy store. He jogged over and plucked up the first pink teddy he could find before returning to the girl and giving her the play thing. As she turned back, the tears stopped, and as he handed her the toy, the brightest smile lit her face. He smiled back, and thought that if ice hadn't frozen his tears, he'd be crying. Such a simple thing to bring such joy in such a disgusting time… "What's your name?" he inquired softly.

The small girl sniffled once, twice, before answering in a small voice that rang with strength. "Marceline." She looked at her stuffy, "And he'll be Hambo. I'll keep him forever."

Simon felt his heart break. "Well Marceline, you're going to come with me now, okay? I'll take care of you. I promise" He picked up his pack and held a hand down to the girl, who surveyed him for a moment, and took it. They walked off together.

"Marceline!" He hollered, "Marceline!" he ran up towards their camp, the embers flickering against the permanent black sky. It had been about a month of travelling with Marceline and he did his best to care for her. As he neared, the girl squatted on all fours, sharp fingers digging into the ground. Simon approached with caution, holding out his find. "It's all right, Marceline, sweetie. It's okay. Look what I've got for you." Simon had known his time was running short to find Marceline some food before she went feral. It was getting harder and harder to find what she needed, but somehow, he always managed. He held out the dead squirrel with caution, as the girl was known to pounce.

As she leapt at her food, sucking it dry of whatever blood it had left, he quickly divested himself of the sack he was holding and tossed it in her direction as she devoured. Man that kid can really eat! The crown fuzzed in the back of his mind, impressed. Simon placed his hands over his eyes and shook his head fervently. No! No! If I didn't get her enough she'll eat me. I'm not impressed. It isn't funny. My name is Simon Petrikov. I'm an archaeologist! His mind screamed. Looking up he pulled a piece of wood off the ground as the girl emerged from the sack. Three squirrels and a rabbit. Three squirrels and a rabbit. It has to be enough. It has to!

Simon didn't know if he could kill the girl, even if she attacked. Marceline licked her lips dry and smiled up at him. He heaved a sigh of relief. He took a couple steps towards her and hugged the girl.

"Thank you Simon. I'm sorry I scared you." She said, same as she always did after a long stint without food. But the woods were barren, and her kind of food was hard to come by.

"It's all right, little one." He muttered into her hair. Clutching her tightly. Dude, why am I hanging around a kid? My princess should be around somewhere... He yanked back from Marceline abruptly and pulled out his scrap book. Betty. Her name was Betty. Her name was Betty. Betty was my princess. He stared at the photos he had of them together. "My name is Simon Petrikov." He muttered. Simon is a loser name…you should be…a king or something! "No!" he yelled back at himself, his voice flying through the air, echoing off of nothing. "No; my name is Simon! Simon Petrikov!" He gripped his hair. Suit yourself, four eyes… and the voice faded off again, leaving him to be himself.

"Simon…?" Marceline ventured, used to his outbursts, though not used to them being so violent.

He took a few deep breaths, composing himself before turning to her. "Yes, sweetie. It's okay. I'm okay now." He hugged her. She hugged back.

Simon found it wise to avoid people when travelling with Marceline. Never mind how he came about the knowledge, but he knew better. In fact, Simon found it better to avoid people because of himself. No…no not myself…because of him. The crown had given itself a name. Ice King. Simon spat in his mind. It had been almost six months of travelling with Marceline and his condition was getting worse. His mind was ripping itself apart. As it was now, he had two trains of thought going at all times, and more and more, Marceline had taken to taking care of him. "Simon Petrikov. Simon Petrikov. Simon Petrikov." He murmured over and over, as though that would save his humanity, his identity.

His body had long ago begun to change. Getting rounder, thinner. His hair growing longer no matter how he cut it. His eyes growing beady, his nose growing long. Was he even human anymore? Not so long ago his clothes had ceased to fit him. Too tight on his body, too loose on his limbs. Marceline had found him a blue sheet. He's made a sort-of dress out of it. It matched his skin tone.

"Simon! Simon I found some canned noodles for you!" Marceline said, skipping back to him with a toothy smile on her face.

He looked up from his position of arms wrapped round crossed legs. "Thank you, Marceline dear." He said, before prying them open with an ice pick and slurping them away. Marceline sat off to the side playing with Hambo and watching the ever-moving smog. Why does she keep calling me 'Simon'? That isn't who I am. I am the Ice King! He thought, glancing over at Marceline curiously. Why does she keep calling me that? His glasses began hurting his eyes, so he took them off. Glasses? I don't wear glasses… He looked over at Marceline again.

"Are you done eating mister archaeologist?" She giggled, noticing he hadn't even finished one can of the four.

"Archaeologist!" He yelled, thrusting himself up and pacing about wildly. "Archaeologist! I am an archaeologist! My name is Simon! Simon…Simon…Simon what? Simon who? And…Princess. I-I-I want a Princess…No! I want my Princess! My princess, my princess…her name! She had a name! Any my name…my name is…my name is…my name is Simon! Simon, and I am an Ice King! –No! An archaeologist! Simon the archaeologist!" He turned madly to his pack and yanked out his scrap book, now more a diary of his growing insanity than anything. Turning to the first page, he read a clipping: Professor Simon Petrikov Unearths Ancient Treasure. Silly man returns from expedition with a marginally exciting discovery. It was early morning that greeted the eyes of hard-drinking journalists and curious pigeons. The impromptu press conference was convened by professor of archaeology and bon vivant Simon Petrikov…

He stared dumbly at the page. "Professor…I was a professor? No…no I'd remember that. My name is…is Simon Petrikov," He said, almost broken, "And I was a…a professor. Simon Petrikov."

A rustling to his side caused him to jump out of his reverie. Marceline inched forward, staring intently at him. It's as though she can see my soul… he ventured. Suddenly, behind her, there was a monster. Red and tentacled, it slumped it way around. "Marceline look out!" He screamed, grabbing her and hoisting her up and away from the demon.

"What? What?" she said in fear.

Simon turned to her. "You don't…you mean you can't see it?" he pointed towards the thing, putting Marceline down. "It's there! It's right there!" he shouted, pointing his finger angrily. A beam of some kind emitted itself from his finger and he screamed. "What the fuck was that?!" Marceline went over to investigate, walking right through the thing he was seeing.

"It was an ice beam." She said simply.

It's 'cause I'm the Ice King, yo. Simon screamed in anguish. Now more than ever, whenever the voice came, it hurt. He knew the alleviation would be to put the crown on, but he knew that if he did, he'd lose himself. "Simon! I! Am! Simon! Petrikov!" he clutched his head and fell to his knees, sobbing dry sobs. It began to snow.

Small hands wrapped around his body and he felt Hambo bump his back. "It's going to be alright Simon…" she whispered. "It's going to be all right."

A year. He'd held out with this curse for a year and his lucidity was next to gone. He'd started wearing the crown a week ago.

Surveying the area, he saw mountains in the distance. Now that looks like a cool pad. He thought to himself. Little feet scampered along the ground and he turned to see a little girl smiling up at him holding some noodles.

"Do I…know you?" He asked. No way I know this kid…I'm too busy scoping out the babes for a kid. The girl looked utterly shattered. Her eyes watered and tears spilled down her cheeks. "Oh no, no!" the Ice King said desperately. "Don't cry! I'm the Ice King. So now you know me so now you won't cry right? Right?" He wiggled his eyebrows up and down.

The girl was full on crying now. He didn't know what to do. Gazing up at him with big watered eyes she asked, "S-Simon?"

He looked at her. The hope in her eyes fading. Simon…Simon…that name seems so familiar…and the girl… The realization dawned on him in an instant. It made his head hurt. "Marceline!" he gasped, and she fell into him sobbing and clutching him desperately. "Oh Marceline I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do…whatever it is I did."

She shook her head and clung to him harder, crying herself to exhaustion. He lay down with her in comfort. "Sleep now little one." He whispered.

"Don't ever leave me…I love you daddy…"

The words shook him and he eased away from her. Pulling out bits and pieces of his journal—a picture of her here, a page of that there, and wrote her a note:

Marceline…sometimes it feels like just you and me in the wreckage of the world…and that must be so confusing for you. I'm losing myself, Marceline. You understand that, don't you? And it scares me to think that you may lose me as well…I'm alive because of this magic crown but…but it hasn't saved me. It hasn't saved Simon Petrikov. It's taken his body. Turned him into something else. I want to protect you more than anything. I do…I want to save you but I can't even manage to save myself. I'm slipping away. And when I came back you were so sad, crying, frowning. I don't know what I said or what I did, but I pray you forgive me and trust that it wasn't me. It was the crown, Marceline, I swear it. I wanted to save you. I wanted to save us. I beg you to forgive me for whatever I do when you are no longer in my memory. When I don't remember you. I-

The Ice King looked up from the note and frowned. "Now who wrote this thing?" he took the pages and tossed them haphazardly into a pile of papers. "And what's with all this old junk?" He simply shrugged and picked it all up. "Huh…" he mumbled, "cute kid." And he flew off to the mountains.

Simon wished he'd had more time. Just a few seconds more. Just to write that he loved his little girl as well.

"Father! Father!" she cried into the wreckage. After she'd recovered, Marceline had walked after her father. Stumbling her way through city and town and forest. This city was cold, so very cold. She wasn't hungry, but she couldn't remember eating. She'd met people on her way, but they were long gone now. Did I eat them? Her young mind wondered, not fully understanding her burden. She began to cry at the thought, at the lack of direction, at the lack of a father. "Someone! Anyone!" she gasped, clutching her wee arms around herself as though it would take the place of someone who cared. Suddenly, a bluish man stumbled around the corner and tossed his pack aside, approaching her.

She shied away, despite it being exactly what she was calling out for. Stupid, stupid, stupid head! You should have stayed quiet! Stayed safe! People don't like you! The man made to put his arms upon her and she whimpered, "Who are you? Are you here to hurt me too?"

But he wasn't there to harm her. The man was kind and gently and, albeit a little bizarre, she felt safe with him. He handed her a teddy bear and promised to keep her safe. Simon. Simon Petrikov. I like him…

She pulled her head from the sack as if waking up. Why was I in a sack? And why does Simon have a stake? She licked her lips and tasted sweet, delicious blood. The understanding washed over her. I must have been very hungry then… Simon approached her and hugged her. She apologized and thanked him. I should thank him always. For everything. He's so good to me. As the thoughts tumbled mature through her young head, he abruptly pulled away, and she realized he was having another crown episode. She stared at him, full of concern as he flipped through his scrap book and she realized all at once how lucky she was.

I'm cursed sure…but I'm myself. Even if I wasn't I couldn't remember if I wasn't I'm so young. Simon though…Simon is forgetting himself completely. She stared on as he mumbled to himself again and again the same information that was by now so ingrained in her memory, she wondered how any bit of Simon could forget it. The episode got more and more violent as it went on, and his behavior started to scare her. He was always so calm and demure, not at all this flailing, yelling thing she was looking at. He yelled his name into the sky and seemed to calm himself.

She approached with caution. "Simon?" she asked tenderly. He reassured her and gave her a hug. It felt a lot like home.

He had become worse and worse and worse. Currently, Marceline was off hunting for some food for him. She stumbled upon four cans of Spaghetti-Os and smiled happily. Simon is going to be so proud of me! I know he hasn't eaten in a while and I found him four cans of food! She skipped back to where they had made camp for the day. "Simon! Simon I found some canned noodles for you!" She yelled as she approached the area. There he was, sitting in on himself and rocking back and forth. He took them and she began to play with Hambo who, next to Simon, was her absolute best friend in the whole wide world. She heard slurping noises for a few minutes before they abruptly stopped. She laughed to herself and shook her head. Just like Simon to lose himself in thoughts when he needs to be eating. "Are you done eating mister archaeologist?" she asked playfully.

He exploded. Pacing around madly and ranting on and on becoming more and more fervent with each passing breath. Wilder and wilder as he flung himself onto his scrapbook upon which he became still as the grave. He yelled. She hugged him and whispered reassurances. It felt a lot like love.

She held up the noodles to Simon only to see confused eyes.

"Do I…know you?"

Tears immediately welled up and began to spill down her face. Never. He never forgets me he forgets his job and his name and Betty and names of things and places but he never forgets me. He can't forget me. He can't leave me alone again. He promised. He promised! While this ran though her head, he scrambled on his words, trying to reassure her. She looked up at him, watery, desperate, full of childish hope. "S-Simon?" she begged.

Seconds passed and her heart was being crushed before recognition dawned on his face. She cast the noodles aside and collapsed into him. Sobbing her fear and sadness out of her. He held her and apologized. She had cried herself into exhaustion and when he put her down to sleep she mumbled, "Don't ever leave me…I love you daddy…"

When she woke up, Simon and all of his things were gone. She clung to Hambo and cried.

Part Two

Elisa had found her on the side of the road, beaten and bloody and clutching a bear. She knew, knew that killing this thing was the way to go. A monster, a demon, a bloodsucker. But she's never seen one so young before. The girl couldn't be more than seven. So, against her better judgment, she'd taken the creature home, not really knowing what to expect. She knew she'd have the fight of her life when the thing woke up, but she simply couldn't bring herself to kill it as it lay bleeding and defenseless on the gravel. Couldn't be more than seven. She was dressed in and overall dress, striped tee shirt and one sock. Black hair flowed down her back.

She placed the child on her bed with her teddy bear and sat in a chair, waiting for it to wake up, stake in hand. She surveyed her semi-permanent abode. Just outside of a major refugee camp (major being twenty people) she found sticking in numbers simply attracted hordes. So she situated just outside of one—close enough to get supplies, far enough to hide or run if (and when) the demons came. The real ones, not this little one sleeping peacefully before her.

It stirred, and she rose, poising herself over the body as eyes opened, prepared to strike. But the think just looked at her. Just…looked. A minute passed. "Neubližujte Hambo." The little girl whispered, and Elisa jumped back in shock.

"You…you can speak!" Elisa yelled. Stumbling over her own furniture. It was smart, it could speak, it could think, it wasn't killing her. The thing sat up and looked at her.

"Já nechápu, co říkáš. Mluvíš legrační." It said, eyes confused. Elisa briefly recognized the language as Czech…but that meant the girl had traveled half way across Germany and who knows how far across the Czech Republic.

"Um…Uh…I don't…I'm German. I'm sorry I can't…" Elisa shook her head, realizing this was getting nowhere fast. "You can speak!" she repeated, pointing the stake at the girl, who shriveled away, forcing the bear behind her back. Realizing her mistake, Elisa dropped the weapon and held her hands up in the universal sign of 'I mean no harm'. The thing relaxed a little. "You…" Elisa said again, pointing gently. "Speak." She said, flapping her hands in front of her mouth and away, looking at the thing in hopes of understanding.

"Jo ..." it said, nodding. Elisa heaved a sigh, glad the meaning came across. "Proč?" And she understood it was asking why, probably thinking her very strange indeed.

"I've…I've never met one who could…speak…before." She said, waving out the meaning as best she could. The thing seemed to understand.

"…speak…" it repeated in perfect German. Eliza nodded rapidly. It was a smart one after all. It wouldn't be long before it knew German and they could talk and carry on and—no. What was she thinking? It was a monster. She'd keep it for as long as it needed to heal then kick it out.

"Marceline." It said, pointing towards its chest. "Hambo." She said, bringing her bear forward.

Elisa laughed and placed a hand on her own chest. "Elisa." She said, and Marceline smiled briefly before it disappeared. Elisa didn't understand. Had she done something wrong? Had she been unfriendly?

"Byli jste mě zabít?" The girl asked, pointing towards the stake.

Elisa looked at the thing and wondered how she could have ever thought of killing such a profound and cute child. "I was, yes," she said nodding.

The child looked at her with an intensity too deep for one so young. It penetrated and understood. Elisa looked away for moments, still feeling those eyes upon her. Figuring, understanding, thinking. She looked up and caught the girl's eyes once more. Marceline shrugged with a sad smile and said, "To je v pořádku. Chápu." And went on to play with her bear.

Elisa couldn't believe it. Here she was, sitting, poised to kill, having admitted it and Marceline had…exonerated her? At least, that's what it felt like… "Damn I wish I spoke Czech!" She hollered.

Marceline scrunched her brow. "Parlez-vous français?" Elisa looked up, disbelieving. That was definitely not Czech. "Nej? Kanske svenska?" That wasn't French or Czech. "Che ne dici di italiano?" What that Italian? How many languages did this thing speak? "Być może polska jest lepsza? No? Españoles, entonces. Usted debe saber españolas." Two more…that made what…six total? "И я не думаю, что вы знаете русский или..." Marceline completed, and sighed. "Je mi líto, nemám mluvit německy..." And she rounds back to Czech.

"You know…seven languages?" Elisa asked. "Seven? Holy Jesus fucking Christ you must be a…a prodigy or a whiz kid or something!" She said, flailing around the small space in disbelief. Here she had been, thinking it a mindless monster, when it spoke seven god damn languages. Anything that could speak seven languages could in no way be anything close to a monster. She looked over at Marceline and huffed out her shock. Marceline giggled. And soon, the two were laughing wildly together.

Marceline groaned and shook her head suddenly, clinging to Hambo. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"hlad. hlad! Budu jíst vás! Uteč!" Marceline patted her stomach and waved her away and Elisa understood. She was hungry, and if ever there was a time for a thing to go mindless, it was when it was hungry. Scrambling about her small space, she found a knife, some bandages, and an old pickle jar. She sliced herself deep on the wrist (not too deep) and filled the jar before wrapping herself up and handing it to the girl. Marceline eyed the woman, then the jar, before downing it completely. Upon her finished meal, she looked up at Elisa, who smiled warmly, and collapsed into the woman. Crying and crying and crying. Elisa simply held her.

Marceline had learned perfect German in two weeks and had been living with Elisa for over a year, feeding off the woman's own blood. Elisa hadn't understood her affections for Marceline, but she found herself happiest when around the little girl. She promised to herself to keep the child safe, and she was German, god damn it and promises meant something. Heeding the woman's word, Marceline remained inside always, for fear of being discovered by the refugee camp. The door swung open and heavy boot falls entered the room. Marceline got up and ran to hug the woman's legs.

Elisa smiled and pulled a very sparse spool of thread from her pocket along with a needle. Marceline's eyes lit up and she jumped up and down from excitement. "Oh I just knew you'd find some I just knew it! It's just what I need to operate on Hambo! Thank you, thank you, thank you mom!" the two collectively drew breath and Marceline looked down immediately, tears of shame and sadness in her eyes as she mumbled out apologies. "I'm sorry I didn't…I mean I hadn't meant to imply…"

Elsa swept her up into a big hug. "I would love to be your mom, Marceline." The woman couldn't remember a time when she was so happy.

Marceline had used the last bit of thread outside.

"Didn't I tell you Marceline! Didn't I tell you always to stay inside!" Elisa yelled, utterly furious. She could hear the mob approaching.

"I'm sorry, mommy, I'm sorry! Hambo just wanted to see the outside with his new eye!" The little girl cried, scared and upset.

Elisa stopped, seeing Marceline clinging desperately to her bear. Tears welled and spilled over. "Oh sweetie…It's okay. I'm sure Hambo was the one who suggested it anyway." She held Marceline close. She'd had the girl for five years. Five years and one mistake was all it took. One child from the camp to run screaming that she'd seen a monster at Elisa's.

"I'm sorry, mom. I didn't mean to cause any trouble…I'm sorry…"

Elisa simply held the girl close. The yells were practically at her door step. Elisa pulled Marceline away and looked her in the eye. "Look, sweetie, no matter what happens I want you to remember that mommy loves you okay? I love you. I love you so, so much, Marceline."

The girl nodded fearfully, and Elisa went about grabbing her shot gun and what little ammo she had. She'd been saving it for an emergency and she'd be damned if the safety of her daughter didn't count as that. The tears hadn't stopped. They slammed against her door and she fired a shot at it, hitting, no doubt, whoever dared intrude on her property.

Marceline was crying when Elisa turned to her and said. "Now you listen up. You're a big smart girl, okay? But right now I need you to do what I say. I love you sweetie." She placed a kiss on the girl's forehead and gently moved her behind her. She opened the door brandishing her shot gun, knowing very few of the refugees had guns and certainly wouldn't use them for this. Marceline clung to her leg.

"What the fuck do you all want." She yelled at the crowd.

"You know what we want! You're harboring a monster in there! You're just biding time until she snaps and kills us all!" a man said, and the crowd (pitch forks, torches and all) cheered in angry agreement.

"Now you listen here. Marceline's been here for five years and she hasn't hurt anyone. You just leave us be." Elisa said, descending the three rickety stairs with Marceline behind her.

"Would you listen to that? Five years my ass! How've you fed her, huh? Hunted down other survivors and killed them for her?" The crowd surged towards her in protest of the thought and she shot at the ground, forcing them to back off.

"I've been feeding her mine." Elisa confessed, knowing full well what a mess she was getting into. But by God, Marceline would be safe.

The crowd gasped. "You…you've kept this beast alive?" The anger and hatred seethed off the group as they advance.

Elisa turned her and Marceline's back towards the road and subsequently the forest. "Marcie, baby, you remember how I told you to listen to mommy?" Elisa murmured almost silent, knowing full well Marceline had super hearing. The girl nodded onto her mother's leg. "Listen to me now. I love you. I love you more than my own life. And when I tell you to run, you run and don't look back, you hear me?" Elisa could feel the girl's hesitation, but eventually, Marceline nodded. "I love you, baby."

The crowd surged forward and Elisa shot and yelled, "Run Marceline! Run!" all at once. She felt the girl flee and emptied every bit of ammo she could onto the mob before they got her, pitch forks, torches, and all.

She'd been attacked and had run, collapsing on the side of the road, fully expecting to die. When she awoke, a tall, beautiful blond woman around twenty-five stood over her with a stake. She was in a bed sure, but had she expected more than hostility? No. So she simply stared, knowing it was over. She clutched Hambo's hand and said, "Don't hurt Hambo." The woman jumped back fiercely.

"Sie ... Sie können sprechen!" Marceline looked on as the woman, eyes wide, stumbled over her own furniture.

"I…I don't understand what you're saying. You talk funny." Marceline said, scratching her head. She thought for sure this woman would kill her.

"Ähm ... Äh ... ich weiß nicht ... Ich bin Deutscher. Es tut mir leid ich kann nicht ..." The woman shook her head and Marceline picked up quickly that the frantic woman before her was speaking German. She knew better than to move or try to escape, but the flailing stake in front of her did nothing to ease her nerves. "Sie können sprechen!" The woman hollered, before brandishing her stake fully.

Marceline shrunk away, Hambo behind her. She'd keep Hambo safe, at least. He was her only friend. The only thing she had left of a happier time. Of Simon. The woman seemed to realize something and she dropped the stake, holding hands up in surrender. She looks like she means well enough…but she's human…they never mean well enough. The girl only relaxed slightly.

"Sie…" The woman pointed at her, "sprechen!" And she made a silly motion with her hands. I…talk? Of course I can talk…

"Yeah…" She said with defense, "Why?"

The woman acted out her words and while Marceline felt like laughing, perhaps it was too early to show her teeth. "Ich habe ... Ich habe nie ein der ... sprechen konnte ... bevor erfüllt."

Marceline furrowed her brow. "…sprechen…" she said, and the woman nodded enthusiastically and smiled wide at her. Well…it seems she won't kill me, eh, Hambo? She pointed to herself. "Marceline." And brought Hambo forward. "Hambo" she said, deciding in the least to give herself a name, lest the woman think her a complete monster. Though chances are she already thinks that…

The woman placed a hand on her own chest. "Elisa." She said. And Marceline couldn't help but return the smile that was being given to her. Elisa. That's such a pretty name. It suits her, don't you think Hambo? A pretty name for a fierce woman. Fierce. Her smile fell and she looked towards the stake. "Were you going to kill me with that?

The woman contemplated a moment and seemed to understand. "Ich war zu gehen, ja." She said. And Marceline looked at her. She was going to kill me. Was. Not anymore. What changed? What made this human so different from the others? It must be her soul. Yes I can see it in her eyes she has a good soul. Elisa looked away No one else cared I could speak. I was a monster to them. A monster. And maybe that's all I am…a monster. Father left, Simon left…I am good for nothing. Elisa caught her eye once more. "It's okay…I understand." Marceline said, and turned to play with Hambo. You'll never leave me. You'll always love me, won't you Hambo?

"Verdammt, ich wünschte, ich sprach Tschechisch!" The woman hollered.

Marceline looked up at her. She was a right genius with languages; maybe the woman knew one more. It sounded like she wanted something to do with Czech. "Do you speak French?" the woman opened her mouth in shock and stared. "No? Maybe Swedish? How about Italian? Maybe Polish is better?" Still the woman didn't understand. Marceline grew desperate. "No? Spanish then. You should know Spanish." Still nothing. Marceline sighed. "And I don't think you'd know Russian…No. I'm sorry I don't speak German."

The woman was shell shocked for a moment before flinging herself around in an all out rant. "Du weißt schon ... sieben Sprachen? Sieben? Heilige Jesus verdammte Christi müssen Sie sein ... ein Wunderkind oder ein Genie oder so etwas!" Marceline giggled, then laughed, and soon, the two were laughing together. Until Marceline felt her stomach rumble. Amidst the language barrier confusion and adrenaline of maybe being killed, she'd very much forgotten her agonizing hunger. She groaned.

"Was ist das? Was ist los?"

Marceline clutched Hambo, hoping to stave off her blood lust. "Hungry. Hungry! I'll eat you! Run!" I don't want to hurt her…not when she hasn't hurt me…I don't want to. I won't…I won't…I won't! She heard the woman shuffling about for a few moments before sweet, delicious, intoxicating, wondrous blood was being shoved at her in a jar. She looked at Elisa only allowing herself a moment to wonder where it came from before drinking the whole big jar down in one go. Elisa sat and watched. When Marceline had finished, she dared a glance at the woman before her, who simply smiled, while her bandaged wrist showed through. Marceline collapsed into her and cried. Elisa held her.

In the little over a year she'd been living with Elisa, she had grown to love her so very much. Elisa kept her safe and fed and cared for. Tucked her in at night and told her bed time stories. Brought her knick knacks as surprises on occasion. Just like a real mom. In fact, long since the time had passed where Marceline had begun to think of the young woman in such a light.

Boots clomped up the stair and into the house. Marceline jumped up and ran over, giving Elisa a warm hug at the legs. The woman smiled, before whipping a thin spool of thread and a needle from her pocket. Not too long ago, Hambo's right paw had fallen off. She'd kept the stuffing and piece very carefully, knowing her slip shod work on him before had been with bits of twine and other things as she travelled. Elisa had promised to find needle and thread for her just as soon as she could. Marceline had tried just as hard as she could not to believe it—promises meant nothing. But the child in her couldn't help but hope and trust that the woman would pull through.

And she had. "Oh I just knew you'd find some I just knew it! It's just what I need to operate on Hambo! Thank you, thank you, thank you mom!" She gasped, so did Elisa. Probably in disgust. I didn't mean to let it slip. I didn't I promise. She's going to kick us out. She's going to leave us. She's going to hate us and abandon us. "I'm sorry I didn't…I mean I hadn't meant to imply…" She mumbled over racing thoughts.

All of a sudden, she was swept up into a huge bear hug wet with tears. "I would love to be your mom, Marceline."

Marceline hadn't been this happy since Simon had cared for her.

She'd sat on the lawn, in the light, and sown Hambo a new eye. He had wanted to see the world again. Her mom was yelling and yelling and she was apologizing over and on top of and there were voices outside and everything was just happening so fast. Hugs and 'I love you's and her mom grabbed a gun. Tears. Banging at the door and fear and more fear and tears. ""Now you listen up. You're a big smart girl, okay? But right now I need you to do what I say. I love you sweetie." Marceline could only nod.

Yelling. Yelling at her mom and calling her a monster. A demon. More yelling and a gun shot. Fear. More fear. Fear for her mom. Tears for her. Things were happening too loud and too fast and then a quiet sound. "Marcie, baby, you remember how I told you to listen to mommy?" Fear and tears and a premonition of loss. She nodded. "Listen to me now. I love you. I love you more than my own life. And when I tell you to run, you run and don't look back, you hear me?" Loss. Fear. Loss. Heartbreak. She didn't want to leave her mom. She didn't want to be alone again. She nodded anyway "I love you, baby."

Running and yelling and shooting and anger and hate and fear and fear and tears and her mom's voice, "Run Marceline! Run!"

She ran and didn't look back. She didn't have to to know her mom was being killed behind her.

Part Three

Nova didn't know Hunson Abadeer had a child until it had shoved them all back into the Night-O-Sphere. She'd never taken such a demon for the fatherly type, and, true enough, when he propositioned for a redo of the Vampire Queen's life, Nova knew it was headed for disaster. She eaves dropped.

"-line I've changed! I've grown! Give me another chance." He said weakly, very much unlike the dark overlord of the Night-O-Sphere she knew.

"You've grown? You've changed? No, dad, I've grown!" Now there was the confidence and power of a leader. "I did this! I sent you all back here and it took me over two hundred years! Two hundred years you can't wish back! I'm a queen now! I was five years old when you left me! Not five hundred, five!"

Nova hadn't known that. It disgusted her slightly (completely). Sure she was a demon and sure she was heartless, but that was his spawn. Vampires were monsters but they were still your offspring. Still a piece of you. And to convert one when the host was only five and abandon it? Cruel. And especially now, knowing that Marceline wasn't like the others, it particularly boiled her blood. He was a bad man and a worse father. She knew her time would be up eventually and he'd disembowel her or do whatever it is he does…but to abandon a five year old in a war ravaged and savage land only to have it be killed or what have you? She couldn't fathom that kid of cruelty.

The conversation had ended upon the musings and Marceline burst through the door. Glaring at her she spit, "Who the fuck are you?"

Nova feared her definitely. She'd killed demons and vampires and sent each of them back to their own dimensions. She was not a being to be trifled with. "I'm Nova…your father's…ahm…"

"My father's new plaything." She growled, and the anger was for her father, clearly. She sighed it away in defeat. I find it hard to believe anything could defeat her. Even her own father. "Well looks like you're my step-mom now. I can't say no to his pleading. He's pathetic." And she waltzed off.

They did indeed 're-do' her life. She went to a baby and aged and she grew up and they were friends. Nova was someone she could talk to about Hunson's ever-pressing plans for her and she was someone the female demon grew to care about. Once though, Nova asked her to call her 'mom'. Marceline nearly tore her head off with screams of 'You'll never be my mother! Never!' and then she railed off for ten minutes in German. Nova hadn't even known she spoke German. She left and came back and Nova apologized. Marceline nodded once fiercely and they hugged. Nova never brought it up again. Not to anyone.

A hundred years passed and they kept up the image of happy family. Pictures and fake smiles and fake joy. Marceline sacrificed a lot to keep her father happy. Nova knew without her saying she wanted out, wanted gone, wanted to stop. She hadn't wanted to do this in the first place and yet, here they all were. And the day came when Nova felt in the pit of her stomach that Hunson was tired of her. She went to Marceline and told her. They hugged and Nova cried for the first time she could remember. Marceline told Nova that when she was gone, Marceline was too.

And Nova was gone.

He had begged Marceline. Begged her on his hands and knees for a redo. She'd agreed, step-mom and all. It turns out, Nova wasn't so bad. It helped. She helped. It was hard to keep up appearances for her dad and it was nice to have someone to talk to. She knew it was only temporary. She hadn't wanted to do it at all. So when Nova came up to her and told her, her time was up, she immediately decided hers was too. She didn't see Hunson again for hundreds of years.

"Marcie?" The Vampire Queen was startled out of her reverie by the soft call of her name. "Come back to bed…" Bubblegum sighed groggily. Marceline floated over from the balcony and under warm sheets, cuddling up to her lover. "What's wrong?" Bubblegum cared to ask, tired though she was.

"Nothing Bubblegum, nothing…I was just…" A long moment passed. "…Remembering."

Bubblegum let the vampire curl up into her. "Oh? Who?" She asked dreamily, stroking pitch hair.

"It doesn't matter." Marceline said, curling up even further. "They're all gone now."

A/N

Did you see the new Adventure Time guys? Did you see? GOOD. TAKE MY FEELS. TAKE THEM! This chapter took me SIX HOURS. The feels! And YES I doubled up perspectives for each part because THE FEELS. Deal with it! So...yeah...felt that episode hardcore and this took a lot out of me. Haha Finn and Jake are next and then I'm going back to requests. For the Marcie's mom request there's bvzant, anon, and Ever the Enuii. Hope it was up to snuff guys.

As always, thanks for the reviews and kindness. Thanks again for bearing through this long ass chapter. Lots of love, all.

I FORGOT TO MENTION. So I made Simon Czech because Petrikov is a place in the Czech Republic, so I figured, why not? Also, yes, I decided Marceline would be a language wiz, so she learned six or so languages when she was looking for Huson/with Simon. So...yeah. Hope that's okay.