𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭-𝐈𝐭 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ━ 𝐉𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐭

- 18 | a week together -

A week together

Marceline woke up on Monday morning to the sound of her phone buzzing on the nightstand. For a moment, she simply lay there, staring at the ceiling, her body heavy with the weight of the past few days. The memories of her conversation with Jim replayed in her mind, the pain of her past mixing with the relief of finally sharing it with someone. But that relief was fleeting, quickly replaced by the familiar dread that had settled in her chest ever since she had received Jack's call.

As she lay there, her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Jim's voice coming from the living room. Curious, she slipped out of bed and padded quietly to the door, listening.

"Hey, Pam, it's Jim," she heard him say, his tone casual but firm. "I need you to tell Michael that Marceline and I are taking the week off. Together."

There was a pause, and Marceline could practically hear Pam's surprise on the other end of the line.

"No, Pam, we're fine," Jim continued, his voice patient but resolute. "It's just something we need to do. I'll explain everything later, but right now, I need you to cover for us. Okay?"

Another pause, followed by a muffled response that Marceline couldn't quite make out.

"Thanks, Pam," Jim said finally. "I appreciate it. Just... don't ask too many questions, alright?"

With that, he ended the call and sighed, running a hand through his hair. Marceline could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he was carrying the weight of everything that had happened.

She stepped into the living room, catching his attention. "Hey," she said softly, offering a small smile. "Everything okay?"

Jim looked up, his expression softening as he saw her. "Yeah, everything's fine. Just letting the office know we're taking the week off."

Marceline nodded, her heart warming at his thoughtfulness. She still couldn't believe how supportive Jim had been—how he had stayed with her the entire night, not asking for anything in return, just being there for her. And now, he was offering to spend the entire week with her, knowing how much she needed someone by her side.

"Thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "For everything."

Jim walked over to her, gently taking her hand in his. "You don't have to thank me, Marceline. I'm just glad I can be here for you. You don't have to go through this alone."

His words, simple yet full of sincerity, made her feel more at ease than she had in days. She squeezed his hand, feeling a surge of gratitude and something else—something deeper that she wasn't quite ready to name yet.

An hour later, Jim started unpacking groceries he'd brought with him, and Marceline watched him with a sense of quiet appreciation. Over the past few days, Jim had taken on the role of caretaker with such ease, it almost felt like second nature to him. He cooked meals for her, making sure she ate even when she didn't feel like it. He kept her company, talking to her about anything and everything, filling the silence with stories and jokes to keep her mind off the fear that lingered in the background.

But despite his efforts, Marceline struggled to get out of bed most days. The emotional toll of everything she had been through weighed heavily on her, making even the simplest tasks feel overwhelming. She knew she needed to pull herself together, but it was hard. So much harder than she expected.

And yet, every time she looked at Jim, she felt a little flicker of hope. He was so patient with her, so kind and understanding, and the way he looked at her—with concern, but never pity—made her feel like she was worth something. Like she wasn't broken beyond repair.