Chapter 3: Chapter Three: A Letter to the Past
Marshall sat cross-legged on the strange, cloud-like surface of the In-Between, the endless expanse around him quiet and surreal. He had spent the last few minutes in a tug-of-war between disbelief and reluctant acceptance. Rob, the so-called Random Omnipotent Being, leaned casually on his staff, watching him with a mix of amusement and patience.
"So, let me get this straight," Marshall said, running a hand through his hair. "You're sending me to the Marvel universe to—what? Fight aliens? Punch gods? Be comic relief?"
"I wouldn't underestimate your potential," Rob replied with a sly smile. "But yes, I'm sending you on a journey. What you make of it is entirely up to you."
Marshall's thoughts spiraled as he tried to process everything. He thought about his mom and Marceline. The life he was leaving behind. The people he'd never get to say goodbye to. The weight of it all pressed on his chest, and for the first time since waking up in this strange place, he felt small. Powerless.
"Hey, uh…" Marshall hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. "Before I go, can I… I mean, is there a way to…?"
Rob raised an eyebrow. "Spit it out, Marshall."
Marshall took a deep breath. "Can I write a letter? You know, to my mom and sister? Just to let them know I didn't, like, die for nothing."
Rob's expression softened, his usual smirk fading into something more thoughtful. "A letter, hmm? I suppose that's a reasonable request. Closure is important, after all—for you and for them."
"Yeah," Marshall said, his voice quieter now. "I mean, they've already been through so much, you know? With Marceline being sick and everything. It'd be nice to at least leave them with something."
Rob nodded, tapping his staff against the ground. A parchment and quill materialized in front of Marshall, the paper glowing faintly in the strange light of the In-Between. "Here. Write whatever you need to say. Take your time."
Marshall stared at the parchment for a moment, his chest tightening. The weight of everything he wanted to say—to apologize for, to explain—sat heavy on his shoulders. He reached for the quill, his fingers brushing its cool surface.
"No pressure," Rob said lightly. "It's only your last chance to say goodbye to the people you love."
Marshall shot him a glare. "Wow, thanks for the motivational speech, Dr. Phil."
"You're welcome," Rob replied, entirely unbothered.
With a deep breath, Marshall picked up the quill and set it to the parchment. The ink flowed effortlessly, as though it were pulling the words straight from his heart.
Dear Mom, Marceline, and Whoever Else Finds This,
I don't know where to start. Honestly, I don't even know if you'll ever read this. Rob—the cosmic weirdo currently watching me like I'm his favorite Netflix series—tells me I should write this down before I move on. Move on to what, exactly? That part's still fuzzy.
Anyway, here's the thing: I'm sorry.
Mom, I'm sorry I didn't call more. I know you were always there for me, even when I wasn't the son you deserved. You worked so hard to keep Marceline and me afloat, and I never thanked you enough. I hope you know how much I love you, even if I didn't say it as often as I should've. Every extra shift, every sleepless night—you gave us everything, and I wish I had told you more how much that meant to me.
Marceline, I'm sorry I wasn't around more when you were sick. I thought working extra shifts would make things better, but all it did was take me away from you. I'd give anything to go back and trade those hours behind the register for time with you. I hope you know that everything I did, I did for you. Even if it didn't always feel like it.
If you're reading this, I guess it means I'm gone. But I want you both to know something: I wasn't a hero, but I tried to be. I tried to help someone when it mattered, even if it meant… well, this. If nothing else, I hope that counts for something.
Take care of each other.
Love,
Marshall
Marshall leaned back, staring at the parchment as the glowing ink slowly faded. He let out a slow, shaky breath, his chest feeling both lighter and heavier at the same time. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough.
The quill lifted from his hand, and the letter folded itself neatly, hovering for a moment before disappearing in a faint golden light.
"Well done," Rob said softly. "For what it's worth, your family will feel your love, even if they never see those words."
Marshall sniffed, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. "Yeah, well, love doesn't fix everything."
"No," Rob agreed. "But it lingers. And it inspires."
Marshall let out a weak laugh. "Great. Now I'm starting this whole thing with an existential crisis. Thanks, Rob."
"You're welcome," Rob replied, his smirk returning. "Now, before we move on to your wishes, I have something for you. A little… extra gift."
Marshall raised an eyebrow. "What kind of gift? If it's a participation trophy, I'm not interested."
Rob chuckled, tapping his staff lightly. "Nothing so mundane. You see, Marshall, you're my first entertainment. My inaugural participant, if you will. So, as a gesture of goodwill, I've decided to tie up a few loose ends for you."
"What do you mean, 'loose ends'?" Marshall asked, his tone cautious.
"I mean," Rob said, his grin widening, "that Marceline is going to be fine. No more cancer. No more treatments. She'll be completely healed."
Marshall froze, his breath catching. "Wait. You're serious?"
"As serious as a cosmic being can be," Rob replied. "And that's not all. I'll make sure your mom gets the letter, and while I'm at it, I'll provide a little… financial stability. Let's just say they won't have to worry about money anymore."
Marshall stared at him, his mind racing. "You're not messing with me, are you? Because if this is some cruel joke—"
"It's not," Rob interrupted, his tone softening. "Consider it my way of saying thank you. Your family will be okay, Marshall. I promise."
Marshall let out a shaky laugh, his eyes stinging. "Wow. You really are laying it on thick, huh?"
"I aim to please," Rob said with a mock bow. "Now, let's get to the fun part. Your three wishes. I'm eager to see what you'll do with your Marvel experience."
Marshall took a deep breath, the weight of his earlier sorrow easing just enough to let him think clearly. "Alright. Let's do this. But just so you know, the bar is officially sky-high."
"Good," Rob replied, his grin turning mischievous. "I wouldn't want it any other way."
End of Chapter Three
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