For the next several weeks, life for the nurses and doctors at the Townsville General was a living hell.
The shocking fact that Buttercup was a vegetable because of him drove Ace to borderline psychotic. His legs would itch. He would scratch. The itch wouldn't go away. He would scratch harder, fiercer. He had to get rid of the itch. He had to get rid of the itch! The red-haired nurse would often find his legs in a shredded state, his bloody fingernails deepening the wounds without fail.
At nights, when the air seemed still, quiet, and cold, a sudden shriek would break the silence, sending doctors into a panic that no one could imagine. The worst part was that they couldn't calm him down. He would scream, yell, thrash his limbs about...it was as if he were in a cold, dark dream. A dream that no one could awake him from.
And yet, during the day, he would be silent. Staring through the empty space before him. The Gang would often come to visit him, not even they could bring a single word to his lips. Snake would sit next to the empty shell that was once Ace, talking to him quietly. But the lisping sounds of his voice were the only vibrations to break through the air. Ace would stare straight ahead, not acknowledging the fact that Snake was right next to him, holding his hand, whispering words of comfort, trying to forget that he was losing another part of his "family".
On the other side of the hospital, Bubbles would be heard crying softly, her tears raining down like an unending storm. The professor would stay by Buttercup's side for days, sobbing, crying, shouting in a hoarse voice. But Blossom didn't cry. Her face was as emotionless as a marble statue, her pink eyes as hard as steel. But she was the most hurt, the most traumatized. Over and over, every night, she would relive that horrid moment. She was right there. She was right there. Why didn't she stop Buttercup? Why didn't she just let the jerk die?
No, she would remind herself. Buttercup did the right thing...but at what cost?
It was a cold morning in Townsville. People huddled around in groups, parents dressing their children like Eskimos. Two girls stood out in the pale white scene. Pink and green. People turned around and stared in awe. The Powerpuff Girls! Whispers would fill the air.
"Why can't we be like normal superheroes and have secret identities?" Buttercup muttered, taking another sip of the warm cocoa she held in her hands. "Everytime we go out, people stare at us like we're monkeys or something..."
"Remember what the Professor said," Blossom replied, tugging at her light pink scarf. "It's better to be truthful and feared than to be dishonest and afraid."
"Yeah, yeah...whatever," Buttercup muttered under her breath. Blossom looked at her thoughtfully. Besides the punkish clothing and the slightly longer hair, Buttercup hadn't changed much over the years. She was still tough. Still bold. Still blocking her heart from the people around her. But then again, none of them had really changed. Bubbles, even though a popular cheerleader, was not snobby or stuckup. She was still sweet, and definetily still innocent. Blossom was still the most 'normal' of the group; she acted like any other girl...except she had superpowers. In fact, she was the only one in their group who had ever dated a boy.
And...well, it was a disaster. But still...
But it seemed as if all Buttercup cared about was fighting, music, and being the winner. Her heart seemed like a stone, but Blossom felt that there had to be some tenderness in there...
"Oh my God!"
Shouts filled the air, a rush of adrenaline spreading like a virus. The two girls faced a growing crowd around the subway station. Shouts, boos, cheers...
Wha...?
"He's gonna kill himself!" somebody yelled, his voice hoarse from screaming over the crowd.
"Well at least he's doing something right..." another voice giggled.
A swarm of panic and hysteria began to formulate. Buttercup instantly raced to the front of the crowd. "What the hell-OH MY GOD!"
Blossom tried to be as polite as possible as she pushed through the crowd. "What is it Buttercup?" Blossom asked. She began to panic. Where was Buttercup? She couldn't see her... The smell of sweat filled her nostrils as she became nauseated from the constant pushing and tugging in the paranoid crowd. "Excuse me...pardon me..." No use. No one listened to her. "Buttercup? BUTTERCUP?"
"YOU IDIOT!" Blossom could hear her sister's voice loud and clear, though she had lost trace of her in the crowd. "Buttercup? What's wrong? Where are you?"
A flash of green went off, followed by a loud, sickening, crunching noise. Blossom forgot her politeness. She pushed her way through the crowd, not caring who she 'hurt' in the process.
"Buttercup?"
She approached the debris. The train was wrecked, its windows shattered and small flames beginning to appear within the wreck. Pink eyes scanned the ruins, trying to detect her sister. "...Buttercup...?" Blossom asked once more, her eyes falling upon the still form of a girl, protecting something with such willpower it destroyed the entire train. Her face was still in a permanent scowl. But it wasn't a scowl of hate. It was more of a scowl of determination. What could possibly drive Buttercup to do this...?
And then, Blossom knew...
...
The scene would repeat itself over and over in Blossom's mind. And sometimes, she would just sit there, staring at her sister, thinking, wishing...
She wished she was there for her.
