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Pray for the Preacher's Daughter

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Tuesday 15th December 2015

Apparently they’d packed Bonnie’s alarm.

She could hear the muffled ringing from the other room, presumably in one of their bags. Actually, Marceline remembered finding the clock too late to put it in a box. So it was in Bonnie’s bag most likely.

Denial made her scrunch her eyes shut and wrap her arm a little tighter around Bonnibel’s waist. Her girlfriend laughed softly, twisting around to look at her. Marceline felt her move and cracked one eye open. Honestly, with her hair messed up from sleep and a bleary look still in her eyes; Bonnibel was the most beautiful person to ever walk the earth. So she leaned forward to kiss her gently.

“Five more minutes,” Marceline grumbled against her lips.

“Sweetie, we have a plane to catch,” Bonnie murmured.

Marceline hummed, pressing her nose into Bonnibel’s collarbone. “Two more minutes,” she tried again.

Bonnie ran her fingers through Marceline’s hair, propping herself up on one elbow. Yeah, Marceline found herself a little bit distracted by the curve of her throat when the sheet slipped. “Or,” Bonnibel teased. “We could get up and I’ll turn that alarm off so we can have breakfast in peace.”

“Mm, breakfast.”

“Is that a ‘yes’ to getting up,” Bonnie wheedled, leaning over to kiss her cheek. Then her jaw, then…

“Yes okay,” Marceline sighed, one hand finding the back of Bonnie’s neck to tilt her face up. “Let’s have breakfast.” She kissed her mouth briefly and then Bonnibel pulled away, sliding out of bed.

And Marceline stared at the bare of her back until she pulled a shirt on. Then she rolled upright to locate her own clothes. By the time she’d found them, Bonnie had already dressed, totally prepared for the day. She was a miracle, really.

“Do you even have anything left in your fridge to eat?” Marceline wondered as she pulled on a plaid shirt. She only had two sets of clothes unpacked and one of them was what she’d worn to the dinner the night before. To be truthful, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to burn it or mail it to her father. Bonnie would probably convince her to keep it.

By the time Marceline had done up two buttons on her shirt, Bonnie was gone. So she hopped into her jeans and left the room. Just in time to see her turn the alarm off; arguably with more force than she needed.

“Um…” she mused in answer to Marceline’s question. “Toast probably is all we’ve got.” She pulled open the fridge and they both stared at the empty shelves for a moment. Inside was the end of a loaf of bread, a tub of Vegemite, a pair of those little butter things from a buffet (Marceline acquired them from Ivy) and a tin of pickles. Actually, she was half convinced the pickles had been in Bonnie’s fridge for two whole years. Maybe longer.

“Looks like toast is our option,” Marceline agreed. “Which is fine with me.”

“We can always grab something from the airport if we get hungry,” Bonnie concurred, pulling the food out while Marceline placed the toaster on the counter. “Coffee and a muffin for morning tea.”

She scrunched her nose up. “That sounds awfully… upper class, middle aged housewife of you.”

“Tea and biscuits?” Bonnie laughed, boiling the kettle.

“How good’s your English accent, because that was extremely British.”

Carefully, Bonnie schooled her face to neutrality before attempting it again. “Tea and biscuits?”

“Oh that was dreadful,” she cackled, leaning back against the bench. “Your regular voice is much better.”

“Nice to know,” Bonnibel muttered, fingers doing up the last of Marceline’s buttons. “Much as I appreciate this, our friends are probably going to come over this morning to see us off. Pippa promised to get Finn up early just for us.”

“How sweet.”

Finished with her task, Bonnie smoothed her hands across Marceline’s shoulders, straightening out her collar before winding around her neck to kiss her. “Mm, how are you feeling this morning? You woke up a few times last night.”

Marceline shrugged. “I’m okay, I guess. I mean… I feel a little bad about it. Not bad enough that I’m going to stay here, but…” She sighed, not quite sure how to articulate her feelings on the subject.

“But he’s your dad,” Bonnie guessed. “And even though you’ve never got on, you don’t really want to be estranged from him.”

“I want him to accept me,” she huffed.

“Maybe one day,” Bonnibel said, optimistic as ever. “Everybody grows.”

She eyed her flatly. “I think you’re confusing my dad with regular people. If he was going to grow into a more tolerant version of himself, he already would have.”

Bonnie tilted her head. “Do you remember last year… we bumped into each other at the book store?”

“Vaguely? I drove you home?”

“You told me,” Bonnibel went on, winding her fingers with Marceline’s. “That your dad loved me; that if he’d had the ability to pick which of us was his daughter that he’d pick me over you. You remember?”

“You probably said something nice,” Marceline deadpanned.

Bonnie beamed. “I told you, people don’t know what they’ve got until it’s gone.” She squeezed Marceline’s hand. “He’ll miss you yet, Marceline. I promise.”

The toast popped. “Yeah,” she sighed. “Okay.”

Before Bonnie had a chance to insist, there was banging on the door. “Hey! Are you idiots up yet?”

Marceline rolled her eyes when Finn called out. Bonnibel hurried to the door – which she’d locked last night, for the first time that Marceline could recall – to let him in. He was followed inside by all their friends. Even Ellen. How unexpected.

“We didn’t know what time you were leaving,” Hayden told them. “But your flight’s at eleven, right?”

“Eleven-twelve,” Bonnie corrected. “We’ll probably leave here sometime after eight. Just in case there’s a crowd.”

“Of people trying to get out of Blackwater?” Ellen asked tartly. “You could bet your life savings on it.”

“Pass,” Bonnie laughed. “But we’re prepared this way.”

“Hate to be late for our plane out of here,” Marceline added with a smile. “We’d be stranded.”

“Yes, well,” Pippa put in. “You must have slept in.”

“Why? What time is it?” Bonnie wondered.

“Quarter past seven.”

Marceline froze in the act of spreading butter on her toast. “You mean we’ve only got an hour to get ready?” She sucked in a theatrical gasp. “Heavens, no.”

“Don’t be a dick, Abadeer,” Ellen said tightly, rolling her eyes.

She just laughed. “We’re packed. The only things not in our bags are a few essentials.”

“We’ve got heaps of time,” Bonnibel concurred. “So relax. Have any of you decided on plans for next year?”

Jake shrugged. “Unlike you, we can’t make plans until we know what our offers are,” he explained. “We don’t have friends to crash with.”

“I might get accepted into the police academy,” Finn said brightly. “That’ll be before Christmas, so I might be moving to Warwick before the New Year.”

“Oh that’s exciting,” Bonnie enthused.

“Yeah, it’ll be awesome.”’

From the look on Hayden’s face, she didn’t agree. “What about you, pyro?” she asked. “Are you moving out?”

She arched a shoulder half-heartedly. “Not sure yet,” she muttered. “Maybe.”

Helpful, Marceline sighed internally. She’d honestly be quite sad if Hayden and Finn broke up so soon, but she could understand how distance and uncertainty might impact their relationship in the negative.

“Should be exciting though,” Penelope said. “We’ve all applied to universities away from here. So whatever happens we’ll all be moving these holidays.”

“You’ll let us know what happens, right?” Bonnie wondered.

“Oh, of course. And if any of us get accepted into schools in your area we’ll definitely drop by,” Pippa assured her.

“Great!” Bonnie approved.

“We’ll make sure to have food in the fridge,” Marceline muttered. “Just in case.”

“You’re telling me there’s no food for me this morning?” Jake complained playfully. “You’re terrible hosts.”

Bonnibel rolled her eyes. “We couldn’t very well leave food in the fridge.”

“Not unless we wanted to grow some primordial life,” Marceline added.

“Yeah. Though, just for Peter, I’m leaving his pet pickles.” She nodded at the fridge.

Finn pulled it open, picking up the jar. He eyed it warily for a moment, looking for the ‘use by’ date. “Oh my god, these pickles are like a decade old!” he exclaimed, throwing them back in the fridge.

“Seriously?” Jake asked.

“Yeah, the date said ‘best before November nineteen-ninety-six.”

At that, Jake pulled a face. “Oh that’s gross. Why does your uncle have ancient, possibly sentient pickles living in his fridge?”

“Hey, Marceline,” Hayden began slowly. Her tone drew all eyes to her. “What’s happening with your car?”

She blinked. “It’s… coming with us. Why?”

“I thought you were flying,” Ellen basically demanded.

Marceline looked at Bonnie. “The car’s being flown with us,” she explained.

“Why not a road trip?” Finn wondered.

“That’s what I said,” Marceline said, pointing at him. “But Bonnie’s friends aren’t expecting her to drive.”

“You haven’t told your friends you’re dating Marceline?” Pippa asked her, a little teasing smile on her lips.

Bonnibel held up her hands. “Okay, but that was Marceline’s idea. She wanted to tell them we met on the plane.”

“You guys are so weird,” Hayden laughed.

“Bu hey,” Ellen chimed in. “Isn’t having a car flown somewhere really expensive?”

Marceline’s eyes widened, turning to look at Bonnie who was now wearing a sheepish expression. “Bon?” she prompted.

Bonnibel held up her thumb and forefinger a hair’s breadth apart. “Alright, so it might be a tiny bit of money,” she huffed. “But it’s no big deal.”

“Liar.” Ellen held up her phone. Of course she’d looked it up. “This says it’s upwards of a thousand to ship a car.”

“Where the hell did you get the money to do that?” Finn whistled through his teeth with his question.

Jake just elbowed him. “Peter. He agreed to let you leave your bike here right, Marceline?”

She pursed her lips. “Yes well… he did let me put my bike in his garage…”

“But not the car?” Pippa pressed.

Marceline could only look back at Bonnie and shrug helplessly.

Her girlfriend sighed. “Hey, Ellen? Why don’t you type my name into your search?”

Everyone looked back at Eleanor as she did so, a frown between her brows, obviously confused by the request. Her expression made it hideously clear when the search returned its results though. Her eyebrows shot up into her fringe and she held the phone out so the others could see.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” she screeched.

Jaws dropped around the room as the others read the article. “You’re a millionaire?” Finn asked in a shrill voice. “What?”

Penelope relieved Ellen of her phone. “Your parents created the Candy Kingdom,” she read. “They owned the whole company and when they passed away they left the entire thing to you.” She looked up, eyes wide. “You own a company.”

Bonnie just nodded. “Yeah…”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Hayden enquired gently.

She arched a shoulder. “My parents always told me to be wary of whom I told,” she explained. “There are a lot of dishonest people out there who’d use me for my money. I don’t like worrying about whether my friends are only my friends for my bank balance.”

“Harsh,” Pippa muttered. “But fair enough. Marceline doesn’t look surprised.”

“I’m not,” she said to save Bonnie from answering. “I’ve known for a few months. Two, actually.”

“It’s not that I didn’t trust you guys,” Bonnie went on, a note of desperation in her voice. “But… old habits, I guess.” She slumped. “I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, but it’s kind of hard to work ‘hey, guys, I’m a millionaire’ casually into conversations.”

“This is… not how I expected this morning to go,” Ellen grumbled.

Bonnibel turned away then, cleaning the mess they’d made of the kitchen, wiping the plates. Marceline thought she looked lost in her head. It was the expression she wore when thinking too hard.

“I’m going to throw the last of our stuff in the bags,” she muttered. “You okay?”

“Yep. Just… That’s not how I wanted that to go down,” Bonnie mumbled back.

She nodded and even though she didn’t really want to leave Bonnie with that expression on her face, they did have to finish getting ready. There wasn’t much left to pack, really. Hair brushes, phones, keys, toothbrushes, that book Bonnie had been reading the day before… Not much. Marceline tossed it all together into a bag, placing the clothes she’d worn last night on top with Bonnie’s dress. She hefted the bags and dropped them in the living room, checking the clock on the wall. Nearly eight.

“… if you need anything,” Penelope was saying. “Alright?”

“Yeah, thanks guys,” Bonnie said, smiling. “Might see you in the New Year though.”

Finn laughed. “Hopefully.”

Then Bonnibel looked over at Marceline, her smile turned into a grin. “You ready?”

“Yep. Whenever you are.”

“I have to give the keys back to Peter.” But she grabbed a bag and headed for the door, Marceline close behind her. Their friends filed out with them.

Bonnie’s uncle had just stepped outside as they were dropping the bags in the back of the car. While Bonnibel handed him the keys to the flat, Finn punched Marceline’s shoulder. She growled, rubbing the spot, but he simply held up the same fist waiting for her to bump it with hers.

She rolled her eyes but obliged. “See you, Finn.”

“Have fun in the big city, yeah?” Jake chuckled, slinging an arm around Finn’s shoulders to offer her another knuckle bump.

“Yeah, I hope so.”

When Pippa gave her a quick hug though Marceline’s eyes widened, totally caught off guard. “You be careful, okay?” she said. “And make sure Bonnie doesn’t get too caught up with work.”

“I’ll make sure she calls you,” Marceline laughed. “Promise.”

Then – in case Penelope’s brief contact hadn’t been shocking enough – Peter wrapped her up in a hug. “Take care of her, Marceline,” he muttered. “Be good to each other. And stay safe.”

“Of course,” she replied, tentatively patting his shoulder. Well, what the hell was she supposed to do in this situation?

He backed away, holding her at arm’s length. “And call me when you land, alright?”

“You got it.”

Peter clapped her shoulder and stepped back. Bonnie slowly extricated herself from Pippa’s full body hug, gave Finn a high five and then they were collapsing into the car. Marceline’s hands kneaded the wheel, a strange concoction of emotions roiling in her stomach.

The sensation faded when Bonnie rested a hand on her thigh. “You ready?”

Marceline gunned the engine. “Completely.”

She waved as they pulled out onto the road, heading for the highway.

 

-*…*…*-

 

So. The Blackwater airport was surprisingly huge and incredibly confusing. She wondered if they’d need a map. Probably, they could get lost driving around in the endless loops of bitumen. Marceline would be the first to admit that she probably looked like a hill-billy with her mouth open, staring incredulously at the buildings. She’d never been to the airport before, never seen it, never realised how large it was. The main building was large in and of itself, but then there was a three storey parking lot, storage space, baggage handling and then the runways and hangars… So large.

“You wait until you see the Ormeau airport,” Bonnie told her gently. “It’s three times this size.”

Marceline did not believe her.

“You’ve never been here before, have you?” Bonnibel asking quietly, tone falling just shy of teasing.

She shook her head. Ogling would have to wait until later; she didn’t want to drive them off the road. “Never had any reason to be here before,” she replied. “Got nowhere to fly to.”

Bonnie nodded since that was the truth. But she did wonder, “You didn’t even want to visit your brother?”

Marceline gave her a dubious look. “Seriously? You think my father – who doesn’t get on very well with Marshall in the first place and wouldn’t want my brother ‘corrupting’ me – would let me go to Ormeau? And risk me turning into some… delinquent?”

Bonnie hummed. “Point. Well you’re going now anyway.”

“So his plot has failed,” Marceline laughed. “Yes… I’m sorry, by the way. For what he said last night.”

Her girlfriend waved away the apology. “No, don’t worry about it. I’ve been called worse.”

“It’s not okay, though,” she grumbled. “How’s your face feeling?”

“Fine,” Bonnie teased. “I’m okay. Really.”

“Uh-huh.” She’d keep double checking, naturally, but dropped it for the moment. She gestured at the big green sign they were approaching with white directions on it. “Is this telling me to take the first or the second exit on the round-about?”

Bonnibel ducked to read the sign through the windscreen, eyes squinting against the sun. “Um… second.” She twisted in her seat to get a look out the rear window at the sign going the other way. “Yeah, second for vehicle inspection.”

“Wait.” Marceline splayed her hands out on the steering wheel, only the heels of her palms still in contact. “They’re going to search my car?”

“Of course. To make sure it isn’t a bomb. You took the pot out right?”

“Damnit, no,” she sighed. “Guess we’ll have to turn around.”

Bonnie only smiled at her. “They’ll scan it with their machine thing. It’s like the one they use for bags only bigger.”

“Bag x-rays but for cars,” she breathed, slowing slightly to read the next sign. “Welcome to the future. So right up here, yes?”

“Yes. We’re domestic not international.”

Marceline glanced at her, finding the unintentional double entendre highly entertaining. “Can you even fly a car internationally?”

“I suppose so. How else do cars from overseas get here?”

“Well that’s different. Those flights are specifically for cars. Car planes.”

“Seems logical. There that one, veer left up here.”

The road widened into four lanes once they’d taken the turn. Each lane led to a little building manned by a guy in grey overalls. Marceline swerved into the lane on the far left where the attendant was hanging out of his booth to chat with the guy one stop over.

They slowed to a stop at the boom gate. “Ding, checkpoint,” Marceline sang. “Saving, please do not turn off your console.”

“And you call me a nerd,” Bonnie laughed.

Marceline grinned and the man swung back inside to talk to them through his window. “Hello, officer,” she said.

He shook his head, smiling. “I’m not an officer, but hello. Do you have bags in there that need checking in?”

“Indeed we do. Are they allowed to stay in here?”

“No, we’ll take the bags out and scan them while the car’s being looked at. Don’t leave anything in the vehicle when you stop,” he warned. “We don’t promise things won’t go missing.”

“Wise advice. So what do we do here?”

“Boarding pass number?”

She glanced at Bonnie who rummaged in her bag to find it. “Ah,” she muttered. “Oh, P48D.”

The man punched it in and smiled again. “Alright. Names?”

“Abadeer and Banner,” Marceline told him.

He typed some more. “Yep, I see you. One second.” After a moment he leaned out to hand Marceline a card which she turned over a few times in her fingers before passing it to Bonnie. “That’s the number for the car. It’ll be slapped with a sticker once it’s cleared the search and that card will match it. They’ll stamp the card as cleared when it goes through and you’ll have to show that to the people on the other end of the flight so they know the car was claimed.”

“What happens to a car that isn’t claimed?” Bonnie asked.

“It’ll sit there for five work days, then go off to be processed. If no one calls the airport a week after that, they scrap it.”

Marceline’s eyes went wide. “Oh-kay. Let’s not do that.” She rubbed the steering wheel. “We won’t let them scrap you.”

“Definitely don’t let that happen,” the man agreed breathily. “That’s a nice car.”

“Thanks. Needs a paint job though.”

“And new suspension,” Bonnie added.

“But yeah, thanks.”

He shook his head. “Right, you’re all set to go through.

“Ciao.”

The gate lifted and they cruised beneath, more green signs appearing to point them in the right direction.

“Scrap it,” Bonnie huffed. “They’d scrap it? Such a waste.”

“I know, you’d think at the very least some of the operators would get new rides.”

“I sure wouldn’t scrap this one if it came through on my watch,” Bonnie said. “Honestly.”

“Did that card say which bay to go to?” Marceline asked, pointing to the where the road split for inspection bays.

“Ah… hang on.” She flipped it a few times. “Yeah. Bay D. That one.”

“I see it. If they ding up my car I’m gonna be pissed.”

“I’d think if they damaged it in any way we could probably appeal to the airport to shout the repair bill.”

“Do you think they’d do actually do that?”

“Probably not.”

“Lame.”

She pulled the car into the bay and a man came over with a digital pad. “Are you sending this car somewhere?”

“Yep,” Marceline told him. “Ormeau.”

“Name?”

“Abadeer.”

The man dragged his finger along the screen, searching until he found the name. “I see you. The guy at the checkpoint will have given you a card, can I see it?” She held the card up and he read the numbers off it, comparing them against his pad and punching them into some strange device on his belt. She could hear a whirring noise and then he was putting a sticker on the windscreen.

“Oh that is cool,” she murmured, tucking the card back into her pocket.

He levelled a finger at a trailer-looking thing hitched to a tray-backed ute at the end of the bay. “Drive yourself up there for me. Get all your stuff out, lock up the car and have a seat over there. We’ll pull the car through the inspector and if anything comes up a little shady we’ll just ask you to let us in and have a closer look. Alright?”

“Sounds good.” It took a little encouraging to get the car up onto the ramp and then onto the trailer, but she managed. Bonnie slid out first while Marceline popped the boot and double checked to make sure there was nothing in the cab that shouldn’t be there. Then she locked all the doors and slid out.

“Can you grab the last bag?” Bonnibel asked as she stopped by the back of the car. “I have no idea what you put in this one, but it’s heavy.”

Marceline laughed softly, but heaved the third bag up onto her shoulder. She jumped down from the trailer and offered Bonnie a hand.

“Alright,” the man sighed. “Just take a seat over there and we’ll scan the car.” He pointed first at a bench off to one side where another guy was already seated, and then at a building at the end of the bay that looked like nothing so much as a car wash. “We’ll be back.”

She and Bonnie collapsed onto the bench and watched as the car was pulled away. The man on the other seat spared them a glance, but then went back to staring at his phone. She leaned against Bonnibel’s shoulder, closing her eyes.

It didn’t take long – not really, only half an hour – before the man from before reappeared, interrupting their sleepy silence. “You’re good to go,” he told them. “Just let me stamp your card.” Marceline passed it to him and he slid it into what looked like a stapler, only instead of staples, it plastered a ‘cleared’ stamp across the end. “There you are. You can take your stuff through there.” He pointed behind them through a window at a set of escalators. “Check in is at the top of those and your flight should be boarding in about forty minutes. Have a safe flight.”

“Thanks. Have a great day,” Bonnie said politely, standing. Marceline wasted no time in slinging two of the bags across her shoulders and heading through the doors to the escalators after her. “So we have forty minutes to check in and find our terminal,” Bonnibel murmured. “That’s heaps of time.”

“I just realised that we’ll be on the plane at lunch time,” Marceline sighed.

“Would you like to get lunch after we check in?”

“Yes please.”

They hit the top of the escalators then and… wow. There were so many boards hanging from the ceiling with flashing colours and names scrolling across them. How disorientating.

“How the hell do you know where you’re going?” Marceline asked, following Bonnie through the space. She wound their fingers together in the hopes she’d be less likely to get lost if she had a tether.

“I’ve been here before,” she teased. “Just retracing my steps, more or less.” Bonnie led her by the hand through the crowd. And Ellen hadn’t been wrong; there were an awful lot of people there.

They stopped at one of those metal detector things. “Do I need a passport or something?” Marceline asked her softly.

“No, honey,” she laughed. “Passports are only for international travel. I’ve got your boarding pass, don’t worry.”

A blonde lady with a bored expression paused beside them. “Passes?” she asked in a voice that only exacerbated the dullness she exuded. Bonnie showed her their paper and she nodded once before moving on, waving them through to the checkpoint.

“She was so enthusiastic,” Marceline grumbled.

“She has a boring job.”

“Do I have to take my earrings out?”

“Yes, and your belt too.”

Grumbling, Marceline pulled them free and dropped them in a tray. “Anything else?”

Bonnie put her phone and keys in the tray as well, so Marceline followed suit, placing her car keys in there. “Not that I can think of,” she mused. “I’m sure they’ll tell you if there is.”

She leaned closer to her girlfriend. “What about my jeans? They have a metal zipper.” The question honestly pained her to ask.

“No,” Bonnibel laughed. “Keep your pants on, sweetheart.”

“They’re not going to do a body check, are they?” she grumbled. Bonnie just looked amused as they passed through the metal detectors. For some reason, Marceline was legitimately surprised that she didn’t set it off. “Huh.”

The man at the scanner smiled at her in that tight way of someone who spends a lot of time surrounded by people. She offered him a thin one in return. Then Bonnie was beside her. “Come on,” she insisted, beaming. “Grab your stuff and let’s go get something to eat.”

 

-*…*…*-

 

The food at airports had left something to be desired, for sure. But it wasn’t the worst she’d ever eaten. And considering it was the Blackwater airport, she’d consider herself lucky if she didn’t die of food poisoning.

Her knee bounced impatiently, her gaze locked in the direction Bonnie had gone. It’s not that she was reconsidering leaving, no way. But moving to a new city was a big deal and somehow that realisation had only just hit her. Funny how that kind of stuff always happened when she was left alone.

Bonnibel flopped into the seat beside her then, jolting her from her reverie. “Hey. I got something sugary; you looked sort of pale before. You alright?” She held out a bag of marshmallows. Seriously, best girlfriend ever.

Marceline smiled, taking them. Somehow they made her feel better. “Yeah, I’m good. Just thinking about… this. It seems crazy.”

Bonnie squeezed her hand. “We don’t have to go.”

“Oh, we’re going,” Marceline said, looking at her like she was stupid. “I guess I’m just nervous. I’ve never had a clean slate before. Never been somewhere that no one knew me. Also I’m a little bit scared of meeting your friends.”

“Don’t worry,” Bonnie sighed, kissing her cheek. “They’ll love you.”

Marceline eyed her doubtfully. “Sure.”

“They will. I love you. They will too.” She paused, chewing her lip. “Just… in a different way to how I love you.”

She laughed. “Good. Otherwise it’d be really awkward.”

“Incredibly.”

Ding. “Now boarding, Flight P48D. Please make your way to gate six.”

That was their flight. Marceline blinked, putting another marshmallow in her mouth.

Bonnie tugged her to her feet, drawing her towards the gate. Which wasn’t really a gate in any respect. It was just a doorway. She shuffled the strap across her shoulder as they waited for the attendant to register them.

Well… Marceline stood there waiting and Bonnie checked them in. She could feel the enormousness of the situation sitting in her chest. Then Bonnibel was back by her side, lacing their hands together and smiling at her. Whatever fearful residue was rolling around in the pit of her stomach faded beneath that smile.

It was funny, standing there looking at the ‘boarding now’ sign flashing above their door, her fingers tangled with Bonnie’s. Strange to think that life had brought her here; to a place she’d never thought to be. Surreal.

The arch was green; a kind of grassy colour. She couldn’t help but see it as a sort of sign. Green is for go.

Bonnibel squeezed her hand, beaming at her. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, meaning it. She grinned back. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Through the green doorway to something new.

 

 

The resurrection of the preacher’s daughter.

 

End.