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"Can you believe it, girls?" Sasha beams, stretching as soon as he's dropped the keys to his apartment on the counter, "We're all finally back together again!"
Receiving an affectionate scoff from Anne, he watches Marcy fumble with their bag and holds it steady while they rustle about in it.
Sasha's apartment isn't all that big, and it's not all that homely either. It's simplistic, not because of willingful choice but rather because he's never really bothered to decorate it properly. All three of them have apartments of their own, whether in different parts of LA or a whole nother state - but that won't be the case for much longer.
"I visit like, during every break we have." Marcy says, like he isn't already aware, "And we were never actually separated to begin with! You know that,"
"Ugh, I know, Mars, but this is different!" Once Marcy's done putting something away within their bag, Sasha reaches out and grabs both of their hands, bouncing up and down on his heels excitedly. "We're all moving in together!"
Living together. It's something vowed between friendship groups and rarely a promise kept, something that drifts away with the passage of time and change of character for those involved. For this trio, however, their time spent apart and their development as people has only made their bond stronger.
Laughing joyfully together and cheeks flushing rosy pink, Sasha pulls Marcy into a hug by the waist and begins to pepper kisses to their cheek, only prompting an even bigger bout of laughter.
"Sash! Sash- stop, Anne! Anne, help me!" Marcy pleads through each giggle, "It tickles! Help!"
At first Anne moves to help, but resigns to just watching from a metre or two away - her two girlfriends, all of them together again, as happy as can be.
"Your fault for falling for the kisses trap, Mar-Mar!" With one last squeeze that lifts them from the ground, Sasha sets Marcy back down and allows them to dash to Anne, enveloping her in the biggest hug they may have ever given.
The warmth she gets from her girls' hugs holds no competition, because although they all have not one but two homes, their third will always be each other.
Soaking in Marcy's warmth for a moment, her arms wrap around them and she snuggles contently into the crook of their shoulder, breathing in the sweet smell of vanilla-scented perfume.
Sasha joins them soon after, his arms wrapping around them both and planting tender kisses to the top of their heads. The three of them stay there for a few moments - or maybe it's minutes or hours, because who's timing, really? After all, they have all the time in the world.
"Now," Sasha starts, parting from the hug first to take off his leather jacket and hang it on a coat peg, "Who votes we just crash for the night? You look especially wrecked, Marce. Was the late night flight really necessary?"
Marcy pries their heavy eyelids fully open, trying to feign their usual energised state. It's true, the flight did exhaust them, and they'd want nothing more than to curl up in bed between the warmth of their girlfriends right now.
"I had to do an interview for my comic earlier today, you know that's why!" They whine, like they couldn't have just rescheduled the interview anyway.
"So is that a yes to crashing for tonight?"
"Yep," The word trails off as Marcy yawns, Anne watching them with the same sparkles in their eyes that she's always had since back then. "And I'll have to borrow some PJs. Sorry, didn't really bring much."
This isn't their moving trip, per se, but rather their visit to test the water. Though they've all agreed that moving together in LA is what they all want, that doesn't change the fact that, well, they don't even have an apartment or house to move into yet.
Going back and forth between apartments for each date with each other had become exhausting, and Marcy had often ended up leaving different sets of clothes at different apartments whenever they visited because it's all just so confusing.
So now having the closure that they'll have one home between them all to call their own, each of them feels at ease - and rather excited for the future.
Anne and Sasha have been doing most of the house hunting particularly, even taking drives around neighbourhoods they've designated as 'good spots' to jot down the addresses of houses they wanna keep an eye on while they're still on the market. And whenever they get home, they send the pics they took of the vacancies over to Marcy and let them say which they like too, so they can all agree on a house and location they like.
An apartment would be a little small for a group of three - even studio apartments. Plus, each of them have their own individual at-home work to do. Between Marcy's webcomic, Sasha's paperwork for her children's psychologist career, and Anne's workshop to make her exhibits, they'd all probably need their own space.
For that reason, a house was deemed as being best for all of them.
But for now until they find one, the three of them can deal with Marcy's occasional visits and seeing them through the screen of a phone, taking them on virtual dates and bombarding them with cuddles and kisses whenever they're in their arms again.
Oddly, Marcy always makes the excuse that they just didn't happen to bring much of their own clothing every time they visit. Though they've never admitted it aloud, Anne and Sasha both know it's just so Marcy can steal their clothes and maybe take a hoodie or two home each time (they bring them back, sometimes). But hey, why would they complain about that? After all, they find it kinda adorable. And anyway, Marcy's outfits are always oversized, so the two of them can just steal some of their clothes anytime too.
For now though, they can rest easy in bed with Marcy in a set of Sasha's pyjamas, clearly oversized on them but hey, who cares when they're all here together, right? Surrounded by the warmth of their girlfriends on both sides of them, Marcy can drift into a peaceful sleep knowing they're safe.
For a little while at least.
Every time it happens, it starts with the humming. A garbled humming and mumbling, static noise repeated over and over like it's yelling at them to listen to what it's saying. It's odd, too, because Marcy understands it. Each word, syllable and letter uttered is completely clear to them. That doesn't stop it from stinging though. It doesn't make the buzzing in their temples go away that leads into the most awful midnight half-asleep migraines, and it especially doesn't help with phantom pain.
Tonight, the warmth surrounding them eerily shifts into a different type of heat. Hot, blistering heat at their chest, burning what feels like a hole straight through all over again. Searing, blitzing, the most agonising heartburn aching their body as their numbly clutch at chest in their sleep and gasp for air.
But, like they always have been, their girls are there to rescue them from the darkness threatening to pull them under.
"Mars," She starts - Anne, a gentle hand on Marcy's cheek as they writhe about, senses it first. "Shit, Sash- Sasha wake up, It's Marcy,"
The mattress shifts, and although they're still stuck deep in the icky clutches of their nightmare, they can still feel and hear what's going on. Still, they can't acknowledge it, can't respond, can't think anything of it, because everything else in their head is just too loud.
"A nightmare?" They hear Sasha mumble, somewhere between the realm of waking up and being wide awake, roused by Anne's hand shoving him awake frantically. "Shit, it's a bad one," There's urgency in his tone as there's another shift of the mattress and Marcy squeezes their eyelids shut, right as something begins to tingle along the indented scar along their back. "It's a nightmare, Marce. You're okay."
Sasha's hand, rubbing pacifying circles on the patch of scarred skin, becomes so much easier to focus on as it swirls round more and more.
Anne, on the other hand, lies facing Marcy and softly caresses their cheek, fingers weaving through their overgrown hair strands and shushing their distressed sobs.
"Breathe, Marce, please. You gotta wake up now, okay? You gotta breathe for me,"
No more than a few seconds later, Marcy's eyes snap open and they push themselves up from the sheets. Upright and coughing, they desperately heave breaths in and out to try and get rid of the horrifying inferno raging in their chest.
Like they always have been, Anne and Sasha are there within seconds, wrapping themselves around them and hugging them tight, shushing them, holding them and rocking them back and forth until their reminders to breathe finally get through.
Cries wracking their frame, all they can do is focus on the warmth of Anne and Sasha that doesn't come with any burns or agony, any painful breaths or migraines.
Still, there's one last thing. Their head is pounding.
"Mirror," They heave, "Please,"
A nod from Anne is all it takes for Sasha to scramble off of the bed. Leaning into Anne's embrace, head comfortably tucked into the crook of her neck, they hear the repeated domino effect tumble of perfume and deodorant bottles alike being pushed aside as Sasha rummages for his usual mirror.
He finds it, bringing it back over to the bed and coaxing Marcy from being nestled in Anne's neck so they can see themselves.
"It's not here anymore, Mar." Anne drawls, planting a fleeting kiss to their temple as they gaze with relief into the mirror. "It's gone. We defeated it, remember? You're safe and sound."
Looking into their own eyes in their reflection, they count two. Two eyes that are undeniably their own, hazel and honey-highlighted, the whites of their eyes reddened from tears they didn't even realise they'd shed. All the while Anne and Sasha push themselves into the mirror's view, planting small kisses to their cheeks.
They see two eyes that are undeniably their own - not eleven as they once knew there to be.
Sasha breaks the silence.
"You need anything?" He chimes in, and it's so Sasha, especially this newfound Sasha, psychology degree and all. "We're here, okay? Nothing can hurt you. So say the word and we'll do anything we can to help."
Marcy sniffles, trying to suppress a small bittersweet laugh. "You always say that,"
"And it always works," He smiles fondly, kissing their jaw as a reminder to unclench it, per that habit of theirs when they're stressed.
Twirling a finger through their long hair, Marcy gazes into their reflection once more.
When the three of them had initially been separated after returning home for the first time, Marcy had made a silent vow to allow their hair to grow out.
A gradual timer, if you will, for the time the three of them would be separated. One rule - they could only cut their bangs. The rest had to be left alone.
For a while, this had been the case - except for when the awful nightmares that come alongside overgrown hair came along, a constant brutal reminder of the shaggy mess their hair had become while under the control of the core.
One time immediately after a nightmare, they had cut it short of their own volition. Their phone call to Anne and Sasha right after still hurts to replay in their head, choked sobs and apologies for a promise they'd never even told them.
The second time around, they'd stuck to it. Despite the terrors haunting them at night and the pleas from their girls to not overexert themselves for something like this, they persisted. Now, their hair is at its longest it's ever been.
But fulfilling the promise to keep it long until they're together again doesn't mean the horrific dreams have stopped. Still they jolt them awake at night, even though the length of their hair has far exceeded what it was below the helmet.
Even if they cut it to its length before, it'll still be scary to relive that reality of being back there again, a piercing wound through their chest and words uttered like they're their last.
"Anything?"
"Anything." Anne reminds, nestling her cheek into their hair.
"Can you guys do me a favour?" They're cautious, but it's not like they could ever say no to Marcy. "Can you cut my hair for me?"
So at two in the morning and wide awake from fear of themself, Marcy sits propped up in the chair, a towel draped around their shoulders.
Behind them stands Anne and Sasha, fervently talking about how they're going to go about this.
Caring and loving fingers drag gently through their loose hair, and every so often when they feel themselves drifting back into their nightmare, their girls are there to plant little kisses to their head and bring them right back.
They resolve to have Anne sit with Marcy, and have Sasha cut their hair.
Fingers intertwined and palms lovingly pressed together, a thumb rubs over the bumps of their knuckles tenderly to soothe the anxiousness building in their chest. An awful feeling is forming at the pit of their stomach, and their chest tightens so much that Anne has to pepper kisses to their face just to loosen them up.
With a small 'I'm gonna start now, you ready?' and a nod in response, Sasha glides the scissors along a huge chunk of their hair. Each snip makes them want to shiver, an uncontrollable icky feeling washing over their body.
All the while, Anne is there, holding their hand and shushing them each time they shift about uncomfortably.
At one point they even have to stop and take a break, holding Marcy from front and behind for a few moments until they recollect themself.
And then they're back at it.
"So, what're we going for today?" Sasha bends at the knee, perching his head on their shoulder, "'re we going for, like, old style Mar-Mar or something new?"
Swallowing thickly, Marcy rubs their hands up and down their arms, making sure that their choice is what they wanna stick with.
"My old style." They say, "Like, the length I had it back then."
The glance exchanged between Anne and Sasha does not go unnoticed, clearly filled with concern at the proposition.
"You sure, Marbles?" Anne double-checks, caressing their cheek. "It'll be a big change."
They nod, saying "Do it before I change my mind," like they know it may come with regret - still, they'll deal with that when it comes, together.
And just like that, Sasha moves the scissors about their head, chopping here and there to neaten and even it out, putting it back to that same choppy style that had all those years ago, the same style they'd had cut as they walked about with a crutch in Newtopia and ran around saving those they barely knew, adventures endlessly laid out before them.
Before they even knew it, they'd closed their eyes. It's not like they're looking in a mirror anyway, but still - maybe closing their eyes will block out the feeling this brings… or something. Truly, they don't know. It's odd to explain, a weirdly nostalgic feeling mixed with absolute dread, a knot tightening more and more in their chest until it's hard to breathe. Still, they wanna believe they can loosen it with time, return to the familiarity they had all those years ago beside their girls without the fear of facing their own reflection.
"Marce," Anne's voice coos as it comes back into their focus, "You can open your eyes now."
Slowly, as if in immediate danger, they pry apart their flinching eyelids and gaze ahead of them, finding only the two faces they love ever so much. No mirror, no reflection with too many eyes or a helmet that presses down on their skin too tight.
"You wanna see?" Their brunette girlfriend threads her fingers caringly through their much lighter strands of hair, feeling the way it hangs loosely about their head, and they realise now they'd kinda missed the airy feeling.
A nod, because they fear if they open their mouth right now all that will come out is a choked sob. Through a sniffle yet no tears, they watch Anne get up to fetch a mirror while Sasha presses a kiss to their temple, letting them know that they look just as beautiful as ever right now.
Face-down, Anne hands the mirror to them and gives them the honours of raising it up to face themself. With shaky hands, they raise it up and up and up until the reflection catches their face, continuing until they're fully into view.
But it's not what they expected.
Not the haircut, the feeling. The hairstyle Sasha has given them is everything they had in mind when they'd asked, but it's so bizarre because this emotion is nothing like they'd imagined.
There's no dread. No fear of burning orange eyes staring daggers into them or a helmet forced down onto their head so hard it leaves a scar across their cheeks. No thoughts of a mindscape where they were convinced all was well and that they might still be there now and not even know.
Nothing of the sort. For the first time in years, when they look in the mirror they see themselves staring back.
They can't even get a 'thank you' out before the sniffles begin, followed by hiccups and sobs until Anne and Sasha wordlessly hold them as they cry. Each time they open their mouth to express just how grateful they are, all that comes out are more trembling gasps
Between shushes and the gentle rocking Sasha always does to calm them both down whenever they're upset, they at least manage to take control of their breathing thanks to continuous reminders from the two of them. It's at times like these that they remember their vow to never let each other go again, and just how dedicated Anne and Sasha are to helping Marcy through what they originally could not, separated by miles of swampy land, a floating castle and the world's greatest minds combined.
All of them often make trips back and forth from Amphibia regularly, managing a job in each world. Still, with that world comes its memories, but they'd all promised so many years ago that they'd face them and overcome them together.
Sniffling sobs mixed with hushes and soft playing of hair, their comforting presence is everything they've ever wanted, everything they've ever wished for for the past decade and the one before that, too.
Once Marcy has finally calmed, they can finally say what they'd always wanted to say.
"Thank you," They tell them, "For everything."