Endless Possibilities

Endless Possibilities

Author's Note: One section title is in bold, for those of you who are easily squicked, I would recommend skipping it. It isn't necessary to understand the rest of the chapter.

Chapter 16 Part 2

XxXxX

feeling sorry

The Townsville Public Library held a definite sense of caring and comfort. Even with the cold rain drizzling against its high roof, the interior was a warm embrace welcoming its visitors to find a good book, take a seat, and lose touch with the world outside. Blossom took a deep breath, sighing a with a singing quality, letting down her hood and shaking out her damp hair. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and strolled through the lobby with a glistening glow in her eyes. All of the day's misgivings melted in the scent of age worn paper and ink.

“This is just what I needed...” She whispered, smiling her first real smile. The regulars smiled at her, offering the occasional wave as she tiptoed to her favorite table. Blossom grinned brightly and waved in return, setting her backpack on the table, looking up at the clock. Normally, she and Boomer would meet around four, giving her just enough time to start enjoying a new book. She took her previous collection out of her backpack, three rather thick books, and walked up to the librarian's desk. The elder woman smiled kindly at her youngest patron, accepting the books pushed onto her desk.

“Good afternoon, Blossom,” The librarian whispered. “How are you today?” Blossom clasped her hands behind her back, glancing away. Of all the simple questions, that one felt impossible to answer.

“I'm doing well...I guess. Just waiting for my friend,” The librarian nodded and watched the puff wander away, strolling through the shelves. The moment she was out of sight, Blossom clutched her stomach and fell against the nearest shelf, whimpering as silently as possible. She hiccuped and clamped her mouth shut. With a strenuous effort, she forced back the bile rising in her throat. Blossom panted, sucking in long, deep breaths.

'I've never thrown up before...why now? And why so much?' Now she finally understood why her classmates abhorred getting sick. It had nothing to do with not wanting to miss school; it had everything to do with how absolutely miserable it felt. As strong as she was, every time she threw up Blossom's only mental response was to burst into tears. But here, in her safest haven, she wasn't about to defile the sanctity of the library with her discomfort.

“Okay...let's find a good book and wait for Boomer...” Thinking about Boomer, inevitably led Blossom to thinking about his brothers. Thinking about his brothers, inevitably led to Blossom recalling Brick, which inevitably sent her into a flushing fury. Blossom clenched her fists, glaring at her precious books. Bubbles was getting along with Butch, far better than she'd ever imagined. Boomer was...Blossom blushed. Admittedly, he was adorable. He actually admired her intelligence, rather than teasing her for it. She frowned and sighed. Though...she couldn't stand his idiocy for too long.

But Brick...Brick was an irredeemable monster. Blossom grit her teeth, hand trembling on the fragile spine of a massive tome. In the two weeks the boys had been thrust upon them, he hadn't changed. He was still horrible to her, always picking on her and trying to break her. Blossom clenched her eyes shut, growling quietly. And worse, he and Buttercup seemed to be friends.

“Why not?” She whispered viciously, stomping through the aisles with her head low, “She's just like him, isn't she?” Buttercup loved to fight her, loved to defy her. She wanted to be the leader, didn't she? Blossom grabbed her stomach and dropped to the floor, lips trembling. The books shelves whipped around her like a kaleidoscope. Her muscles clenched, every effort going to fighting back the urge to throw up, and the urge to scream. Blossom clutched herself tighter; it felt as though a knife was being rammed into her, a jagged, serrated knife twisting and gnashing inside her.

“What is happening to me?!” She gasped out, slowly rising to her feet once the feeling passed. The pink puff shook her head and grabbed the nearest book. Blossom stared at the cover, eyebrow raised in curiosity. The author was one she hadn't heard of before.

“Nabokov...this should be interesting” Blossom kept one hand on her stomach, walking back to her table. She glanced at the clock. Though she was disappointed, she couldn't help smiling. Just five more minutes until Boomer arrived. The blue Rowdyruff was never early...he had it hard enough showing up on time. Blossom sighed and sat down, opening the book.

“I can't blame him though...he can't tell time,” Blossom snuggled down into her chair, quickly becoming engrossed in the novel. Still, a niggling thought in the back of her mind refused to rest. Something was wrong with her. And though no one had said a word, she knew they could see it. She visualized—pulse racing, heart pounding, body trembling—the town, staring at her. She could almost feel the cold wind hitting her. She could almost hear remnant sparks cracking in the air. For all her love of reading, she couldn't stay interested in it.

“Where is he?” She whispered, her throat tightening. Boomer was almost always late, but never more than a few minutes. She sat her book down, staring at the clock with growing anxiety. Twenty minutes late, thirty minutes late. Had he forgotten? He never had before, why would today be any different? Maybe he was in trouble...that was a stupid thought. He was a Rowdyruff Boy. They caused trouble, they didn't get in trouble.

“What if he's causing trouble then?” She thought, rubbing her chin. The boys had been, interpersonal relationships withholding, very good lately. They hadn't even caused trouble in class. But what if it was all a ploy? If it was a trick...they'd fallen for it, and fallen hard for it. But, that would assume the boys were capable of such an intricate plan. Blossom shook her head. That wasn't possible. Maybe Brick wasn't a complete idiot, but he lacked the patience and strategic planning to come up with something so delicate.

“Boomer...where are you?” Blossom felt her eyes watering. She rubbed them softly, trying to avoid any unwanted attention. But she knew they were looking, she just hadn't managed to catch them yet. She whipped around. Peering through the bookshelves maybe? She whipped around again; she swore she had seen some kind of movement. Blossom lowered her head, trying as hard as she could to make it so they couldn't see her. Trying to keep them from seeing the tears in her eyes. Trying even harder to keep them from noticing the tears rolling down her cheeks.

“He's not coming...he's not coming...” She whispered, looking up at the clock and wiping her cheeks. He was an hour late now, he wasn't coming. Maybe he forgot, that was possible. But it wasn't plausible. No the only plausible outcome was that he had ditched her. He realized she wasn't worth spending time with. Maybe Brick told him, maybe someone else, maybe—for the first time—Boomer figured out something for himself. Whatever the truth was, Blossom knew, without a doubt, that the cold, hard reality was that Boomer didn't want to be her friend. She wrapped her arms around her waist, trembling as her stomach jumped. Blossom slammed her book shut, stumbling away from the table, arms tightly holding her sides.

'I have to get out of here...he's not coming...he's not coming...he's not coming...' The pink puff could no longer control her crying. Blossom grabbed her backpack and hurried to the door. She ignored the stares that were, assuredly, following her. A frigid shudder racked her body as she threw the door open. The thunderstorm was falling hard, giant drops of water cascading down like tears. Blossom coughed into her hand. Every hack came so forcefully, she struggled to stay upright, holding onto the door for balance. She stood up, shaking her head and wiping the blood away from her mouth. With a whimper, she wandered into the storm.

Her jacket still hanged on the back of the chair, right where she left it. Octi sat on the cover of the book she'd been reading, watching the rain pour down through the still open door. His expression was dead.

XxXxX

all i wanted

The storm was more powerful than any weathered before. The rain came down in a sheet, blinding any who dared venture into it. A furious gale blew through the streets, toppling trash cans, knocking over potted plants, and tearing down posters. The sky was an infinite cover of darkness, stretched out and hidden behind ominous black clouds. Even the street lamps seemed dimmed by the sheer ferocity of the storm. Not a car was on the road; not a person stalked the sidewalks, save for one. A tiny pink-clad figure, her red hair torn out of its ponytail, plastered over her drenched form.

'So cold...so cold...hurt so bad...' She didn't dare waste energy on speaking. Her teeth chattered too hard to attempt forming words. Not for the first time, she fell to her knees, vomiting a pool of dark red. The weakened super girl fell on her side, sobbing hysterically. She forced her eyes open, watching the street shift and churn around her. The world was fading into darkness. A violent coughing fit overcame the tired puff. Again, she vomited a stream of bloody bile.

Blossom rolled over onto her back, staring with eyes wide open into the oncoming deluge. Her chest heaved and clenched. Despite the freezing rain, she felt as though she was on fire. As the darkness closed in around her, the sky exploded in a bright light. She closed her eyes. Thunder rolled across the city, and Blossom whimpered. Darkness began to bubble up through the cracks in the sidewalk, crawling towards her. The Powerpuff sighed and moaned, squirming in the puddle of darkness.

“What...what's going on?” Blossom gasped, a smile breaking out across her flushed face. She squealed, feeling a tendril wrap around her arm, gently pulling her to stand. Blossom moaned and bit her lip, another tendril wrapping around her other arm, more rising up over her feet. A shiver rushed through her, a hot finger trailing down her back. Steam rose into the air as the burning digit seared her dress.

“You should not have come into the storm alone, child...here there be dragons,” Ash-scented breath blew against her ear, his ancient, sophisticated voice intermixed with the dull roar of the storm creating a seductive soundtrack to her awkward, but strangely exciting predicament. Blossom gasped and shuddered. Her dress fell in two parts, flopping to the ground with a loud splat. His finger didn't stop, it kept trailing down her back. Blossom whimpered, an unknown feeling flooding her when her panties fell just like her dress. The tendrils rising up along her legs ate through her shoes and stockings.

“You...came back...” She whispered, just in time. She tensed up, eyes flying open and breath leaving her. She giggled breathlessly, struggling to stand still. The Powerpuff leader was incredibly ticklish, but the tendrils softly tracing across her bare legs tickled in a different way. She felt a warm tongue brush against her cheek and could almost taste his hot breath.

“Do you remember...what I told you?” Blossom's squirming was frantic and sporadic; were it not for the tentacles holding her arms and feet, she'd be on her knees. Still the gasping, squealing giggles came, new streams of darkness lightly brushing her sides. His tongue trailed down to her neck.

“I...c-cannot...can't...can't hope to...to d-defeat...defeat y-you...” He chuckled. Blossom clenched her eyes shut and bit her lip hard. The tendrils of darkness stopped, just barely touching her naked body. Hovering over her ominously. Blossom dared to peak an eye open, but could see nothing but blackness. A blackness she wanted to come even closer...a warm blackness she longed to be wrapped in, to ward off the freezing rain.

“Very good,” He said, his voice coming so suddenly that her heart skipped a beat. The tentacles descended on her fiercely, poking and prodding, stroking against her naked body. Blossom screamed and giggled, struggling with all her might against the relentless tickling. The best of her efforts only resulted in her falling to the ground, on her hands and knees. A tentacle brushed against her cheek, wiping the jovial tears from her eyes. She heard a low chuckle, his laugh. The darkness caressed her lips, lightly brushing against her tongue.

“What is it you want from Aku?” Blossom gasped, sudden clarity coming as the tickling ceased and instead the tentacles wrapped around her, hugging her tight and warm. She moaned, opening her eyes. She hovered across from him, the pale moonlight pouring in through the kitchen window. Aku crossed his arms, looking down at her. She floated closer to him, her cheeks flushed dark red. She panted, sweat streaming down her naked skin. She felt tingly, she felt like a warm light in her belly was melting her. She wanted his cool darkness to soothe it.

“I want...I want you...you're...my special...my...please come closer...” A powerful hand cupped her cheek, another stroking her long hair. She hovered closer; the distance between their faces became smaller and smaller. She pursed her lips and closed the distance between them. The tendril of darkness eagerly slid into her open mouth. Blossom moaned and suckled it, grinding against the heated tentacles rubbing and stroking her sweat-streaked body. She sucked harder on the darkness, trying to get closer to it. Her every impulse was focused on getting closer. Trying, somehow, to put out the fire in her belly.

A tentacle reached from the darkness and stroked her hair. Blossom uttered a high moan, squirming and becoming more and more anxious as the tentacle slid down her back, lightly stroking her backside. She groaned and began to to grind even harder. The tentacle pushed harder, sinking deeper into her. Whatever unease she previously felt melted as the darkness tried to put out the fire in her. Two more reached from the blackness. She rolled over and spread her arms and legs, hovering through the soothing sea. A sense of natal wonder overwhelming her greater thoughts.

The new tentacles tenderly brushed against her chest. Blossom hissed and braced herself for the pain to follow. She sighed in wide-eyed bliss; the tentacles lovingly brushed her nipples, delicate...like a flower. She arched her back and sucked harder on the tentacle. The new stimulation—every tweak and stroke sent an almost electrical surge through her body—on her chest caused the fire in her belly to burn even hotter. More than ever, she wanted the darkness closer...close enough to put it out.

A final tentacle crept through the black, drawing closer and closer with a sinister hiss. Blossom, lost in the throes of a foreign feeling she couldn't attempt to label, was none the wiser. She jerked violently, coming back to reality abruptly when the tentacle light brushed against her. Blossom's eyes opened wide. She shuddered and moaned, sucking harder on the tentacle in her mouth. As if this was a confirmation, the tentacle plunged into her. Blossom's eyes rolled up into her head and she lost herself in the waves of darkness crashing against her.

She shivered as the waves kept crashing. And deeper, deeper, she sank into the darkness. The rain poured down on Blossom's shuddering body. She curled up tighter, hand between her legs, a dark flush on her cheeks. Her soggy bow fell against her head, her drenched clothes clinging to her gyrating body. A streak of lightning arced through the black sky, and a peel of thunder rolled over Townsville. But the smile never left the pink puff's lips.

XxXxX

careful

The mountain was an ominous presence. For all he'd heard, all he'd thought, and everything that had seemed so strangely familiar, the Professor remained intimidated. The sun was beginning to rise...soon he'd have to start climbing the mountain. Just what lay at the summit? The scientist...had no idea. His journey had been relatively uneventful. It was like all traces of the demon had been obliterated. James Utonium could only pray that God would give him an answer soon.

“You've come,” The Professor jumped and spun around. In the dim morning light, three sets of glowing eyes watched him. His furiously beating heart settled and a nervous smile replaced his fearful frown.

“Oh...its you again! Is this...this was the mountain you spoke of before, correct?” The lead monk nodded, the three stalking toward the mountain with determined, confident, even steps. The Professor watched them, hesitating to give chase. The monks came to a halt and the chilling, low voice of the lead monk pierced the still early morning air.

“Have you recollected yourself?” James lowered his eyes; his hand slid into his pocket, fiddling with his pipe. The monk's question carried an ominous weight. He feared his answer wouldn't suffice. The Professor looked up, gasping and falling back a step to find himself eye-to-eye with the monk. The blank, blue eyes stared into his with all the intensity in the world.

“I...I don't know...what do you mean?” The monk's stare remained unblinking. The Professor knew he had felt this gaze before...before their meeting at the mysterious barren clearing. And just like before, he had the niggling sense that he had already climbed this mountain. The Professor lowered his head and swallowed. His mouth was dry.

“I think...I'll find the answer if I can...” The monk nodded and the Professor looked up, meeting his gaze, “What's at the top of the mountain?” The monk's expression didn't change. His words made the Professor gasp.

“Truth”

XxXxX

playing god

“And then I played with the Rowdyruff Boys after school! Butch is really funny when Brick isn't telling him to be mean!” The Professor chuckled. Ms. Keane tapped her watch, giving Bubbles' a gentle smile. The blue puff nodded.

“I gotta go to bed Professor, I love you!”

“I love you too Honey, sweet dreams,” Bubbles beamed and handed the phone back to Ms. Keane. The teacher grinned and gestured for Bubbles to head upstairs. Buttercup had already finished her turn and, if she was in a less than rebellious mood, already in bed. Ms. Keane bit her lip and looked at the door, putting the phone to her ear.

“She's still not home, James...I'm starting to get worried,” It was nearing eight o'clock and Blossom hadn't returned home. The storm was at its peak, practically shaking the house. On the other end of the line, the Professor was struggling to maintain a sense of rationality. A wary chuckle was the teacher's first response. The second a nervous swallow.

“W-Well you said she's tutoring that boy, right? Maybe they lost track of time...” Ms. Keane twirled the phone cord around her finger, slowly shaking her head.

“I don't believe so...they've never gone more than a couple hours. She just can't keep his attention on schoolwork that long...” The nervous chuckle returned, with a worried hiccup. The kindergarten teacher's heart nearly leapt out of her chest when the front door opened and an incredibly soggy Blossom stumbled in, eyes low to the floor.

“Oh thank God she's home...” Ms. Keane whispered into the phone, setting the receiver down to check on the auburn-haired child. Her body wracked with shivers, her face flushed bright red, Blossom looked as though she had been out in the storm for hours. What was most telling; however, was her averted gaze. Try as she might, Ms. Keane couldn't make eye contact with the Powerpuff girl.

“Blossom it is very late! Where have you been?” Blossom flinched. She cleared her throat and looked up, passed Ms. Keane.

“I was...at the library. And um...” She bit her lip, glancing at the clock hanging on the wall. Her eyes darted in the other direction, then finally ended on the puddle forming at her feet, “I fell asleep,” Ms. Keane frowned and finally turned Blossom to look her in the eye. Blossom swallowed hard.

“Blossom...you're lying to me,” The little girl pulled away, rubbing her clammy arms. A nervous shudder and a quick sweep of the room, she turned her eyes back to Ms. Keane. Still, she wasn't looking at her.

“No I'm not,” The respondent frown deepened; her lie couldn't be more evident. Blossom sighed and lowered her head, staring at the damped carpet. Ms. Keane shook her head, making a note to press the issue later.

“The Professor is on the phone...would you like to talk to him before bed?” Blossom peeked up, staring at the black receiver. She ignored her initial impulse and nodded, walking to the couch. Ms. Keane had disappeared, reappearing with a big towel—one quickly wrapped around Blossom before she could cause more damage to the flooring. Blossom accepted it with an honest smile. Ms. Keane's was far more curt. Blossom frowned and sighed, picking up the phone.

“Um...hi, Professor...I guess it would be good morning there, right?” She smiled, hearing a sudden sigh of relief. The scientist chuckled and paused a moment. She could picture him perfectly, puffing his pipe, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“Yes it's almost morning here. You gave us quite a scare Blossom. Where have you been?” There was something to his voice. A warning tone? Disappointment? Disapproval? Blossom's knee-jerk reaction was to bristle, her hackles rising despite her chill. She laughed sheepishly, glancing at Ms. Keane.

“I...fell asleep at the library and um...got home late...did Ms. Keane tell you it's raining? The storm is really bad here, how's the weather there?”

“The weather is fine Blossom...alright, if you don't want to tell me, I won't ask again,” Blossom bit her lip, trembling from a new sensation not at all to do with the cold. Fear? She glanced again at Ms. Keane, sitting in the Professor's recliner grading the tests they took earlier that day. She snapped out of her distance when she heard his voice again.

“Blossom there's something important we need to talk about,” She quickly tensed; relaxing just enough, but only when she heard the receiver cracking in her grip.

“W-What's wrong, Professor? Did you find out something about...about Aku?” Her heart fluttered just speaking his name. Where had he gone? What was he doing now? Why did he run away?

“No, Sweetie, this is about you,” Blossom narrowed her eyes.

“About me?” she asked, her voice just barely a whisper. Her voice must have carried an edge, an edge the Professor could hear, because the scientist hesitated before continuing.

“Y-Yes...Blossom, Ms. Keane and your sisters are both very worried about you,” Silence answered him. The pink puff threw an unreadable look at her teacher. Thankfully the older woman's attention was diverted.

“Your sisters say you aren't talking to them. You're behaving very strange and distant. They're worried about you...from what I've been told you only really respond when you're angry with someone,” Blossom's lips quivered and her hand gripped the phone tighter, “They're both very upset that you won't talk to them. Now, I know, I know you're a big girl and you're very strong. But...you should at least tell them that you're alright,” Blossom closed her eyes, taking small breaths. Ms. Keane was watching her, she just knew it. She pretended she wasn't when Blossom looked, but she could feel eyes on her back. They were teaming up on her.

“Alright,” So clipped and harsh was her tone that Blossom had trouble recognizing her own voice. She could hear the Professor sigh; there was more coming. They knew everything was wrong with her. Blossom's lips quivered, her eyes twitching with still unshed tears.

“Ms. Keane is also very worried, Blossom...she told me that you failed a test today,” Blossom's eyes widened. A few of those unshed tears fell, rolling down her damp cheeks.

“I what?”

“You failed your history test today...she says you're distracted in class, you don't answer questions anymore, and you seem...what's the right word...” Blossom's breaths were coming in shorter bursts, faster and faster. She glared at Ms. Keane—finally caught her staring at her. Ms. Keane gasped and set her pencil down, worry etched in her face. Fake worry. It wasn't real, just a trap.

“I...I'm fine!” Blossom exclaimed, cutting off the rest of the Professor's explanation. She swallowed, repeating herself in a more definite tone, “I'm fine, Professor!” Her father sighed, her super hearing could make out the sound of him tapping his pipe.

“Blossom, please don't yell. We're just worried about you...it sounds like it started after you fought Princess,” Blossom froze and fumbled with the receiver, nearly dropping it. She ground her teeth and could feel a wave of nausea rising up in her belly.

“Th-That was a long time ago...what does that have to do with anything!?” She gripped her stomach, shaking with her greatest effort just to stay on her feet.

“Blossom I think using that much of your power is affecting you,” Blossom shook her head, sprinkling rainwater over the room. Ms. Keane stood up. Though her voice was only a partial indication, in person Blossom's frustration was nerve-wracking. She had certainly never seen the child throw a tantrum...seeing one brewing, standing so close to it, was terrifying.

“I'm just fine! It's...it's nothing like that!”

“Blossom, how long have you been able to do that? Did you lie to me before?” Blossom grabbed her hair nervously. Her expression was torn between tears and fury; she gave a soft whine.

“A-Always...I...I never really...but! But it's fine, Professor! I'm responsible! I can handle it!” Ms. Keane was just as torn as Blossom. Her maternal instincts were crying for her to approach the little girl, to soothe her and calm her down. Her teaching career was asking her to settle the brewing tantrum, to keep her under control. But her primal instincts...were to horrified to do anything. Blossom's skin seemed almost...glowing. The girls had all looked the same, that first day in her class. Blossom had looked the same, that day in Townsville, battling Princess.

“Blossom, I know you're responsible, but this is a safety issue. You have been losing your temper lately and-” Blossom growled—audibly growled—and lowered her fist to her side, shaking.

“You don't trust me?! You think I'm going to hurt someone?! I...I'm appalled!”

“Blossom you're doing it now! Sweetie, please just settle down and listen to me. This is for your own good,” The pink puff viciously rubbed her eyes, pained tears replaced by hot, angry tears. He wanted to hold her down. Vaguely, she could remember how it felt. Completely crushed beneath the invisible hand. All the pain, the helplessness, the weakness. Had they done that? Were they trying to do it now?

“Blossom, I just think...you should put your bracelet on again. I don't think you girls are mature enough to handle that kind of power. Please, I love you...I just want you to be safe,” Blossom clenched her eyes shut, breath hissing between her teeth. She'd never be like that again. Her head was spiraling, the room was whipping around her like a tornado. And the knife in her stomach nearly surpassed the pain of the knife in her back. Her anger disappeared in a sudden flash, replaced by anguish. She dropped the phone, hands flying to her mouth.

“No!” She cried—a pitiful, weak, nearly inaudible sound—hurrying away as fast as her twisting insides would allow. Ms. Keane gasped and snapped out of her shock, picking up the phone and watching Blossom's hair disappear around the top of the stairs.

“James? I'm sorry, I'll talk to her,”

“No...no it's alright...let her calm down. Maybe she'll respond better in the morning,” Ms. Keane sighed and nodded, looking up at the stairs.

“Alright,”

ignorance

Blossom's flight led her directly to not her own bathroom, but the Professor's. She slammed the door shut and locked it, just in time to dive at the toilet and throw up—banging her chin against the lid in the process, biting her tongue. Blossom whimpered and sobbed quietly, falling into a coughing fit that led to more regurgitation. Through it all, the world kept spinning around her.

'Make it stop...please someone make it stop...just stop!' She held onto the toilet bowl for dear life, fighting to stop the violent shaking and the painful lurching in her stomach. She was on fire; more specifically, her belly was on fire. She needed something, anything to put it out. Scandalously...she was sure she knew the answer.

“Maybe...just a one day thing...I'm so tired...” The nausea and dizziness passed. Blossom rose, flushed the toilet, and washed her mouth out. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, barely recognizing the girl staring back. Bloodshot eyes, soaked to the bone, she was a picture of discontent and disorganization. A tear-stained picture of weakness. A perfect antithesis to Blossom herself.

She wiped her eyes and stumbled out of the bathroom, opening the bedroom door. Buttercup was asleep, but Bubbles was sitting up, clutching Octi tightly—the sight of the doll made Blossom uneasy—and watching the door. The blue puff smiled brightly when her sister walked in the door, and rose to greet her.

“Blossom! I was so worried...are you okay?” Bubbles stopped in front of Blossom, eyes wide with concern, her lips pursed in worry. Blossom quivered and looked down at the floor, stumbling passed Bubbles and pulling off her wet dress.

“I'm fine...I'm fine!” She emphasized, turning with a desperate frown. Bubbles' lips trembled as she followed her sister into the closet. Before Blossom could object, Bubbles hugged her tightly, hiccuping. Blossom swallowed, admittedly thankful for her sister's warm embrace. Even out of her wet dress, she was freezing.

“Bubbles...you should be asleep. I'm fine just...I was,” Bubbles nodded, hugging her tighter.

“You fell asleep at the library,” Blossom whimpered silently, but nodded. She softly grabbed her sister's arms.

“You believe me?” Blossom turned and looked at Bubbles, who was wiping her leaking eyes. Blossom's gaze drifted to her hand, where she clutched Octi, dangling at her side. Octi stared up at her; vapid and mocking.

“Of course I believe you...you wouldn't lie,” Blossom flinched, quickly turning away. She rubbed her arms, wishing Bubbles would hug her again.

“Right...I wouldn't, would I?” Bubbles smiled and shook her head. Blossom bit her lip and nodded, taking off her wet stockings. While her sister changed, Bubbles stood by and watched. The loving gaze in her eyes never faded, nor did the concern.

“Blossom...what's wrong?” She finally asked, breaking the relative silence. Blossom pulled her nightie on, staring at the carpet.

“What do you mean?”

“You're acting funny...and I don't like it...”

“I'm just...I'm fine, Bubbles,” Blossom bit her lip, “What do you mean 'funny'?”

“I feel like I don't know you anymore...” Blossom shook her head. The room was starting to get fuzzy, she could feel her consciousness slipping. The pain was returning. Still...she ignored it and turned to her sister with a cheeky smile. She daintily took Bubbles' hand, holding it tightly. Bubbles couldn't help blushing at the husky, over-the-top tone of Blossom's voice.

“I'm Blossom, it's nice to meet you,” Bubbles giggled and pulled Blossom close, giving her a tight hug. Octi fell to the floor. Blossom hesitated, but wrapped her arms around Bubbles and gave her an equally firm embrace.

“It's late, we need to get to bed, Bubbles,” Blossom pulled away from the hug. Bubbles nodded and picked up Octi, joining her sister in bed. The dark room, lit by a thin stream of light, fell into silence. Silence broken only by the sound of deep, even breathing. A pair of pink eyes opened in the darkness. The hours ticked by slowly; the night was so painfully long. The room got chillier as the storm went on; the two sisters shivered and snuggled closer together. The silence was broken by a voice, crying softly. A voice no one heard.

XxXxX

misguided ghosts

Blossom sat alone in the bathroom, all the lights out. The sunrise outside was still several hours away, though the first rays of light were starting to turn the clouds a silky shade of pink. Through the door, the puff could hear the light breaths of her sleeping sisters. So peaceful and perfect; Blossom's stomach churned, though it had naught to do with her sisters. A soft moan pierced the silent air. The room began to spiral, slow at first, like an amusement park ride. But within seconds it was a frantic hurricane, slushing her brain around in her skull.

All feeling, all control, all power fled Blossom's body, dropping her in a painful face plant on the floor. She laid there, praying the floor would stay beneath her. Though she knew it wouldn't end the way she hoped, Blossom pushed up onto her hands and knees, pain rocketing through her arms, like spikes driven clear through her shoulder blades. It would have taken all her strength to not scream in pain, had she the strength to even do that much.

'I...I think I'm....' Blossom stood up, panting and holding onto the sink for dear life. There was no other explanation, she reasoned. But, she realized painfully, there was no way out. She gasped and swallowed hard, biting back the bile rising in her throat. The pink puff took a step, and the floor became the ceiling. She stumbled toward the bathtub and a porcelain crack rang out, leaving behind an eerie stillness.

On the floor, head throbbing, the little girl climbed to her knees with tears welling up in her eyes. She hiccuped, hand flying to her mouth; too late, she doubled over and spewed a violent expulsion of vomit across the floor, caking the wall and pouring over the door. Blossom collapsed in a fit of choked sobs. She heaved again, splattering more dark red vomit on the floor. Her stomach felt like it was on the verge of tearing open. Every slight movement left her crying that much harder. She snatched the side of the bathtub and tried climbing to her feet.

'I can't...make it...gotta...get this... before anyone finds out...' When did she...a person whose own father felt her too powerful to be trusted...become so frail? In the pit of her mind, she saw a pair of wicked green eyes. At the back of her mind, she felt a furry hand rubbing her body. On the edge of knowledge, she smelled a foul, horrid odor permeating an entire room. Just at the brink of remembrance, Blossom knew there was a reason. But with no one to turn to, what good would the memory do?

'Someone...maybe...if I'm too weak to beat this...someone stronger can...' That answer, a final solution, had come back with every heave. Every lurch and pained breath brought the same notion. She had only one option, one choice. Blossom peered into the darkness, dragging in air with unparalleled urgency. As her mind faded to black and the room began to fall, she prayed the darkness was staring back. Blossom hit the floor, unconscious even before her skull knocked against it.

Several hours passed by and strangely...as she laid face down in her own sickness, the darkness did begin to move around her. The mess began to fade, though not without roughly moving the perpetrator. Blossom floated through the air, whimpering helplessly adrift a cloud of cherry dust. A sharp emerald haze fell over the sleeping sisters, their missing piece now put into place. Daintily, the covers were pulled up to their chins. Tenderly, evil eyes fell to the right; lovingly, it brushed a loose strand of hair back into place. And, his time exhausted, the haze vanished.

'Is this the right thing to do?' The first thought forced its way into her mind, as her eyes fluttered open. She looked around the room in a daze. Her gaze fell on her sister, eyes narrowing lovingly. She lightly caressed her hair. Her sister's sudden shift took her breath away. Blossom relaxed, smiling gently, stroking her sister's cheek. In sleep, she was so delicate...like a flower. Her mood suddenly shifted, her smile vanishing beneath a bitter frown.

'This is wrong...I can't...they wouldn't know what to do...' She turned, lightly laying her mitt on her other sister's shoulder. The blonde sighed and rolled over, facing away from her. Blossom swallowed and struggled to resist the growing urge to cry. She'd done enough of that lately, she was tired. She missed them...she missed them dearly. Blossom looked down at her lap, ignoring the tears puddling between her legs. How long had they truly been apart? If not physically than...in their hearts? It felt like it had been so long since she'd even told them she loved them.

'It's been...even longer since they said they loved me...' Or maybe it hadn't...she began to realize. The last real, honest interaction they'd had was trying to teach Buttercup that stupid attack. And the result had just been Blossom with a sore face and even more sore pride. She sighed and rubbed her stomach. Her...condition had subsided, but it would be back. It kept coming back worse than before. Eventually it might...

'No don't think about that...no...just...I have to' Blossom lowered her head and slowly floated out of bed, wandering to the closet to get dressed. She pulled off her soiled nightie, staring at it. Tears trickled down her cheeks. Without a word, she vaporized it with her heat rays. She bit her lip and pulled down a dress, sliding it on in silence. Outside, she listened carefully. If either of her sisters woke up...they'd try to stop her. Right? They wouldn't want to see her go.

'They never tried before...' She recalled, with a glare how she'd run away before. She was a jinx, a bad omen, a failure. They just let her walk out the door...they hadn't even looked for her. Blossom clenched her fists, instantly regretting the action. Her insides tensed up and a wave of nausea hit her. By the time it cleared, she was on her back, staring weakly at the ceiling. The puff stood up slowly, panting.

'No...this is right. It's the only way...he's the only one...' He was special...he could find a way to solve a problem she couldn't. Blossom stepped out of the closet, shielding her eyes from the rays of the rising sun. She glared at the windows, giving the bed a passing glance before hurrying downstairs. She didn't dare fly, instead walking barefoot to the living room. She paused at the foot of the stairs, looking up at the door to the guest room. Ms. Keane would worry...if no one else, she would worry. Right?

'Maybe I should tell her...no, no she won't let me. No one will let me if I tell them! They'll just...tell me I'm wrong!' She took deep, calming breaths, holding herself tightly. Thankfully, the feeling passed before it could take her out. Blossom tiptoed to the door, stopping to slip on her shoes and fasten the buckles. She paused, biting her lip. Her pursuer came to a halt, putting her hands on her hips.

“Blossom...what are you doing? It's four in the morning...” Blossom stood up straight and slowly turned; pink eyes locked with green eyes. Both stood in perfect silence. One wore a frown, a look of absolute defeat that opposed everything the other ever thought of her. The other's expression was more blank, but overflowing with concern and emotion that stunned the former. Blossom broke the stare first, looking down at her feet.

“You wouldn't understand...” Buttercup never missed a beat, this occasion was no exception.

“Try me,” Something in the tone of her voice nearly killed the auburn-haired puff. Though she swore she wouldn't cry anymore, swore she'd be strong even in her weakness, tears began to stream down her face. She looked up at Buttercup. Her haunted eyes paralyzed the impulsive puff.

“I'm going away for a while, but I'll be back. Don't try to follow me because I promise I'll return as soon as possible,” Blossom's voice carried a trembling, almost poetic quality. Buttercup shook her head, taking a few steps closer.

“Blossom...why? You can't leave...” Blossom shuddered, taking a deep breath and pulling her hands to her chest. She looked small, frightened, far more fragile than Buttercup ever believed she could be.

“See...I'm trying to find my place, but it might not be here...where I feel...safe,” Blossom trailed off, her voice cracking. Buttercup sighed and started closer. She hesitated for a moment, pulling her offered hand back. Blossom's eyes fell, and she felt her heart breaking. She shook her head and slowly pulled open the door.

“Don't try to bring me back,” Buttercup snorted and crossed her arms. She began to sweat, despite the cold air coming in through the cracked doorway. Her eyes stung.

“Why not?” As the words passed through her lips, Blossom turned to face her, one last time. Buttercup nearly choked on the lump in her throat.

“Because you can't,” Without another word, her once proud eyes fixed on the ground, she turned and walked out the door. And...though it wasn't the first time she'd run away, this time Buttercup felt truly terrified. The tears in her eyes only frightened her that much more. This time, she worried that her sister wasn't coming home.