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She’s getting worse.
Even now as Marcy shivers and quakes in a bed that’s not her own, body wrapped in twisted sheets, skin pale and glistening with cold sweat, teeth chattering yet face flushed pink with raging fever, Anne can tell. It’s not the first time Marcy’s been struck down and confined to the guest room in Anne’s house – and unfortunately, it won’t be the last either. Ever since they’d left Amphibia, Marcy’s only slowly been getting worse with each passing day; and Anne won’t ever forget the horror of seeing her friend collapsed and unmoving on tiled floor all over again.
None of them could have planned for the repercussions of being possessed and the ever-lasting toll it could take. How could they? Now that their time in Amphibia was over, everything was supposed to be okay – it had been okay.
Like a cool breeze on a hot summer’s day, relief had once lifted Anne’s fears. Seeing Marcy first awaken in the throne room had unburdened that heavy, leaden weight that lay claim on her chest. Held tight within both her own and Sasha’s arms, safe and sound, forgiven and loved, Marcy had been okay. Battered and bruised but above all, okay – free from that awful helmet, mind once again hers, eyes shining brown and no longer that horrid, tormenting shade of orange. And at first, Marcy had continued to be okay; she had bounced back from it all, just like she’d always done, jumping at the chance to fight The Core during its final last-ditch plan, ready to save the world and all the people they’d come to cherish within it. Even during the first few weeks of their return back to Earth, after saying all those heart-breaking goodbyes and trying to come to terms with the fact that that chapter of their life was truly over – she’d seemed okay then.
It had started with small things. Headaches, lightheadedness, eye strain and tiredness. Unnoticeable, easy to ignore, easy to hide – something Marcy’s always been painfully good at.
After a time, they started to get worse. From headaches came intense migraines that leave Marcy clutching her head in agony, plagued by lingering, shooting pains so great it casts an array of spots dancing in her vision. From lightheadedness, bouts of dizziness where she’s left unable to stand, the room spinning and turning, the world moving underneath her even whilst lying down as still as stone. From eye strain, blurred vision so bad that objects shift into shapes, shapes become colours and now, the girl can barely see a thing – needing glasses even to see just a few feet ahead of her. From tiredness, exhaustion that seeps into muscle and bone, leaving in its wake only sore, aching limbs drained of strength, struggling to hold up her weight, making even the simple act of walking difficult.
It's terrifying how quickly Marcy’s condition had worsened – frog, she couldn’t even make it to the airport to join her parents in their new house out of state. And even now, with every day, every hour and even down to the minutes and seconds – the list steadily continues to grow.
Mind disoriented. Memories shifting. Memories fading.
There’s a weak hiss of pain from Marcy as she shuffles uncomfortably in the bed. “Mm… hurts…” She grumbles, raw voice wavering and weak, her eyes shut tight as she inhales shakily, “H-hot… too hot… and too many eyes…”
Anne doesn’t know what it means.
Hovering by Marcy’s side, she turns to dim the room’s bright lights before swiftly moving to carefully untangle her friends’ limbs from the snarled and taut blankets. Unhooking her legs and arms one by one, pulling away the blanket to neaten it out before casting it back over Marcy’s lower half, Anne’s heart only continues to ache as Marcy turns again in discomfort, groaning in distress at her own jerked movements. Despite how helpless she feels, Anne pushes the feeling away, taking the wet cloth sitting atop her bedside table and dipping it into the bowl of cold water she’d brought in earlier. Using both hands, she wrings it out, watching droplets of water splatter and splash back into the bowl before giving the now-damp cloth one last shake. Letting out a soft yet resigned sigh, she leans over to gently dab at the trailing lines of sweat that run down Marcy’s forehead, wiping them away to help quell the fever – or at least make her feel more comfortable. Noticing the way the girls’ brows pinch together at the touch, a whistling whine escaping her lips, Anne quickly finishes up, lightly tossing the cloth back to the table.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Anne hums low, taking a seat at the bed’s edge, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight. Her hand drifts to Marcy’s face, gently caressing her cheek before absentmindedly picking at the wet strands of hair that cling desperately to her still-damp skin, “I’ve got you Marce.”
Frog, it was supposed to be okay.
But it’s not; not anymore. Anne knows without a doubt that Marcy’s getting worse.
It’s a fact that’s become all too hard to avoid now, as much as they all might try. Not when the thoughts run and tumble through Anne’s mind during her every waking moment, whirling like a hurricane, burning like a red-hot blade driven straight through her chest as terror digs its claws deep. Marcy had promised – she’d promised all those months ago that she wouldn’t lose her, yet now, here she is breaking that same promise for what feels like the third time. She’d already lost Marcy to a burning sword wielded by a mourning king, she’d lost her again to a twisted machine driven by a power-mad Core and now, she’s losing her all over again because there are days where Marcy doesn’t even know what’s going on anymore, confused about where she is – lost on who she is. And when it’s not disorientation, it’s total agony – days where Marcy’s pinned to her bed, unable to move or speak, unable to do anything.
And maybe that’s just how Anne feels – confused, lost and above all, powerless.
It was supposed to be okay. They were supposed to be okay; it was all meant to be totally fine-.
A shuddering cough pulls her back from the brink.
Eyes drawn back to the bedridden Marcy, Anne watches in muted worry as her eyes begin to flutter, a trembling hand moving to cover her mouth as a fit of coughing rattles through her, shaking her undoubtedly strained body. Hesitantly, Anne nervously places a hand on her shoulder, fingers holding her down with a light grip, meant to hold her steady, hoping the gesture might provide a warm, soothing presence as the girl begins to wake. Uncertainty pricks at her skin, sending a cold wave of concern through her as goosebumps litter along her arms. She knows why – she’s been here before, she knows what’s coming and still, she can’t help the way her heart sinks as Marcy looks back, eyes glazed and glassy, expression pained yet lost, confusion set in.
“What… where?”
The innocent words come out unsteady and hoarse yet they pierce through Anne every time. She hates the way her smile wavers at the question – but no matter how many times she’s been here before, it hurts just the same as the first time. With a deep breath in, she reluctantly pulls herself back from Marcy, creating a bit of space between them yet still can’t bring to move her hand just yet.
“Hey Marcy,” She starts, rehearsed and calm, rubbing her lingering hand in delicate yet calming circles along Marcy’s shoulder, “You’re okay, you’re here with me in my house, remember?”
Marcy only blinks back. Body shifting and curling into itself as she forces one last cough out of her system, she runs a hand meekly through black dishevelled hair, eyes batting away tiredness as she carefully watches Anne – the movement only causing Anne’s heart to free-fall back into that black pit deep in her stomach. Not wanting to overstep, she goes to remove her hand from Marcy’s shoulder but as she does, a cold, clammy hand takes hold, grip weak but weaving fingers between fingers – filling a space, just like they’d always done.
“You… me… here,” Marcy wheezes out with effort, her head falling back to the pillow, eyes still fluttering but the fog lifts as recognition shines back.
“Yeah,” Anne says with a soft chuckle, relief washing over her as she’s reminded of the sweet memory of their reunion back in Amphibia, “You and me, right here, safe and sound.”
Marcy hums in agreement. “Hm… sounds sweet,” She agrees and with their hands still intertwined and with great effort, she moves over to make space on the bed for Anne to join her.
“This might be silly to ask,” Anne says, cautiously sliding next to Marcy, her free hand reaching back behind her to her bedside table as it searches, “But how are you feeling?”
Marcy’s feeble moan is all the answer Anne needs. Still, her wandering hand does finally land on what she’d been after though – a pair of black-rimmed glasses. With them in hand, she unhooks the frame’s arms with her mouth and with practised ease, she guides them onto Marcy’s face.
“Oh, thanks! That’s much better,” Marcy says gratefully, still staring off towards the ceiling before realisation hits her, “Wait, when did those get there?”
Following her line of vision, a sad smile tugs at Anne’s mouth, “Well, you always liked the stars you and Sash put up in my room so we thought you’d like them here too.” She doesn’t talk about how Marcy had been with them at the time. Or that Marcy had helped them pick out the constellation patterns.
Since Marcy had missed that first flight to move out of state, they’ve been working hard to make the room a home away from home – anything to help her feel more comfortable because frog knows it’s what she needs. Anne’s parents have been incredibly understanding of the whole situation, something she’ll forever be grateful for. When they’d seen first-hand just how badly Marcy’s condition had been and how quickly it’d worsened, they’d been so fast to offer their support. Speaking to the doctor as well as Marcy’s parents had been hard – even tough at times – but they’d eventually agreed on giving the girl a place to stay with them, where she could feel safe, recover and just… breathe and relax, something Anne’s not sure Marcy’s been able to do ever since… well, since before the War.
She just wishes she could do more.
“Anne?” Marcy quietly says, voice recovered but filled with concern as she rolls to her side to fully face her, “You’ve got that look where you’re thinking about something too hard. Is something wrong? Did I… do something?”
“No, not at all,” She reassures, pulling their joined hand towards her and placing a delicate and calming kiss on Marcy’s, “I’m just worried.”
“Sorry,” Marcy says instinctively, running a thumb along Anne’s knuckles, “Anything I can do to help?”
But there’s nothing either of them can do. Because as much as Marcy could try – as much as she does try – she can’t force herself to be magically better. As much as she might, she can’t pretend that every day isn’t full of aching pains, she can’t pretend that there aren’t times when she doesn’t remember anything. And as much as she might want to, Anne can’t will her friend’s woes away. She can’t wave a hand and make it all vanish; she can’t draw on mystical powers from three coloured gems and ask for a simple wish. No, for now, she can only focus on the things she can do to help because frog it’s what Marcy deserves more than anything; she’s been through so, so much – too much for a lifetime already.
“Stay,” It’s a selfish thing to ask for she knows, and it’s not like Marcy has much choice, but she asks anyway, “Just stay here with me?”
A gentle fondness swims in those loving brown eyes as Marcy smiles warmly back and as she does, her other hand wraps around Anne’s in a way that’s familiar, something caring, heartfelt and promising, “You know,” Marcy starts, voice soft yet growing in strength, “Someone once told me that nothing, not distance or time, can break the bond that we share.”
She lets out a shaky wet laugh at that and it’s only when Marcy pulls a hand free, fingers wiping at Anne’s cheeks that she even realises she’s crying. And as Marcy’s soft fingers stroke against her face, it quells her fears, soothing the rapid thumping of her panicked heart – and as silly as Anne feels that the tables have turned and she should be one comforting Marcy, it doesn’t stop her from leaning into the touch.
“I know you’re scared, I am too, but you’re not going to lose me. I’m right here, no matter what happens, you have me.”
And Marcy’s right, of course, she is. Because despite everything that’s ever happened to them – despite everything that Marcy’s been through, she always comes back.
“And you have me, always have, always will.”
And no matter what else comes their way, Anne refuses to lose Marcy again.