"No, Professor Utonium, we haven't found her yet. But we're still looking."

It was nine AM that morning, and nobody in the Utonium household had gotten a wink of sleep that night. Police had been called, missing person reports had been filled, and searches around town had been conducted, but it had been more than eight hours and there were no clues as to where Blossom was…

…except her note.

"Let us look!" cried Buttercup, for about the fiftieth time.

The police chief sighed. "Miss Utonium, your skills as a crimefighter are admirable, but this is detective work, and legal business."

"It's crimefighting!" Buttercup shouted. "Someone kidnapped Blossom, you dimwads!"

"The note makes it sound like she left on her own free will," said the police chief.

"It's a fake!"

"The note is in Blossom's handwriting, both according to our handwriting examinations and by your father's and sister's analysis."

"Why does it even matter?" Buttercup screeched, clearly having reached the end of her rope hours ago. "What matters is that she's gone! Someone might have kidnapped her and forced her to write that note!"

"Why would someone kidnap her and leave no demands for ransom?" asked the police chief with a sigh. "Look, we'll be sending out officers to search the homes of your notable villainous foes… but what it looks like to me is that she's gone off somewhere, probably not even in Townsville."

"You're making it sound like you're going to give up!" cried Buttercup.

"We'll do everything we can," shrugged the police chief.

Bubbles watched the whole scene unfold from her spot on the couch, huddled up and pressing her knees tightly against her chest. She had spoken only when a question was asked of her—and even then, her answer would be short, mumbled, and incoherent.

All she could think was that this was all her fault.

If she had only taken the time to find out just why Blossom was so sad, she could have helped. She could have prevented this before it was too late. The reason that she hadn't done so was because she was afraid of hurting Blossom's feelings or making her angry—but at least, if Bubbles had helped her, then Blossom would be here, safe and where she belonged!

But no, Bubbles had done nothing. And now Blossom was gone.

"Come on, Bubbles."

Buttercup, apparently giving up trying to reason with the police officers, was now standing above Bubbles. She looked stern and upset, but not so much upset with Bubbles as she was with the whole situation in general. "I don't care what the officers say. We're going to go find Blossom ourselves."

"But—" whimpered Bubbles.

"Do you want to find her or not?" hissed Buttercup, only barely remembering to keep her voice lowered.

"Yes…"

"Well then, come on!"

Buttercup yanked Bubbles off of the couch and silently led her outside—once there, the two remaining Powerpuff Girls took to the air.

"Where are we going?" Bubbles asked fearfully, noticing that Buttercup was flying with the most steadfast direction and certainty she had ever had.

"You know what the note said. And you know what made her blow up at us like that. Don't you get it, Bubbles? She does have a crush on a bad guy, and she's been hiding it all along!"

"What do you mean?"

"Chris has been a bad guy this entire time—and Blossom never told us!"

"That doesn't make sense," said Bubbles. "Blossom's always so morally upright... she would have told if she knew that a supposedly good guy was bad!"

"Not if she was blinded by love."

"But—"

"You know I'm right! I know I'm right! And I'm going to go over to his house and find her and bring her back!"

Although they were still flying, Bubbles shrunk back a bit from her sister. When she was in a state like this, arguing with Buttercup was suicide, no matter how much logic one put into the argument.

The girls landed at the "offending" house, and Buttercup wasted no time in pounding on the door.

"Buttercup!" hissed Bubbles.

"What?" snapped Buttercup.

"Don't be too rough," said Bubbles meekly.

"I'm not going to be rough with him—I'm going to be rough with Blossom for giving us such a scare!" cried Buttercup, staring intently at the door. Bubbles looked down at the ground sadly. Buttercup never kept eye contact when she wasn't sure of what she was saying and doing.

The door finally opened. A confused Chris blinked at the sight of two of the Powerpuff Girls. "Uh, hi, Bubbles and Buttercup. Happy New Year…?"

"Cut the small talk," said Buttercup sharply. "We're here for our sister."

"Your sister?" said Chris, still confused. "I haven't seen her since the last day of school."

"Don't play dumb!" cried Buttercup. "I know she's here, and I'm gonna tear this house apart until I find her!"

"Don't, Buttercup!" Bubbles cried out.

Buttercup spun around and glared at Bubbles. "Why not?"

"He's telling the truth, can't you see?" said Bubbles, looking as if she was on the verge of tears. "Blossom's not here."

"But… but…" Buttercup seemed to be treading a fine line between rage and helplessness. "But where else could she be? She's got to be here! You read her note!"

Bubbles sighed. "Would you give Buttercup permission to search your house with her X-ray vision?" she said, addressing Chris.

"Hell, I ain't gonna wait for his permission!" cried Buttercup, before Chris had a chance to even open his mouth. Within moments, her eyes glowed and she zipped up to the top of the house to conduct a proper search.

"I'm sorry about her," whispered Bubbles to Chris. "Blossom's gone missing, and we don't know where, and we usually ask permission before using our X-ray vision to search someone's house… and I only said Buttercup should do that to prove to her that Blossom's not here."

"Oh," said Chris, still slightly dumbfounded.

It was only a few minutes more when Buttercup landed back at the front door, looking as if she had fallen into the helpless side of the line she had been walking. "I don't… I don't understand it…"

"Thanks, Chris," said Bubbles gently. "And I'm sorry we bothered you."

"It was no bother at all," said Chris. "Good luck in finding her… I hate to think of what might be happening to her right now," he said sincerely.

"Me too," whispered Bubbles. She took Buttercup's hand and led her up to the sky.

"Let's go home, Buttercup," she said to her sister. "We should let the police take care of this now…"

"No—it's the Rowdyruff Boys! Why didn't I see it before? Blossom has a crush on Brick, that's what it is!"

Bubbles sighed. "Buttercup, not again—!"

"Last night, she got distracted by Brick and that's why he beat her—just like he beat you! It's so obvious!"

"Buttercup—"

"Don't you dare get territorial on him, Bubbles! More than one person can have a crush on the same guy!"

"But Buttercup! Blossom told me that she doesn't like any of the Rowdyruff Boys!"

"She was lying, duh!"

"Blossom never lies!"

"She's obviously been lying about something this whole time—or at least she's been keeping something hidden! It would have to take something really big to make her run off like that! Come on, you know I'm right!"

Bubbles's patience with Buttercup was finally wearing thin. "Oh yeah, you're totally right—just as right as you were about Chris!"

That was the breaking point for Buttercup as well.

She turned on Bubbles with lightning speed and grabbed her by the shirt collar, screaming in her face. "Do you want to find her or not? DO YOU?"

Bubbles burst into tears. "Stop it, Buttercup! Stop it!" she wailed.

"She's with them!"

"No, she's not! Trust me!" cried Bubbles, still sobbing.

"Can't we at least go look?"

"No—Brick said he'd hurt you next time—there's only two of us and three of them—"

Buttercup screamed, having finally, completely lost it.

"WHERE COULD SHE BE?"

Bubbles was unable to answer, her cries wracking her entire body.

"Dammit, Bubbles!" cried Buttercup, a few stray tears lining her cheeks as well. "Where… how… how could she do this to us?"

"She said she was safe… in her note…" Bubbles managed to choke out.

"She was probably lying then too! Bubbles—"

The weeping sisters flung their arms around each other's shoulders, unable to fight any longer.

O.o.O

When Blossom awoke that morning, she had no idea of what time it was until looking at the digital clock on the nightstand—9:47 AM.

"Wish this room had a window," she mumbled to herself, rubbing her eyes open. The sunlight should have woken her long before now, regardless of what a tiring night she had weathered.

Okay, now what? she thought to herself. Here she was, taking residence in her biggest enemy's habitation, for reasons that she still didn't quite understand (or at least want to understand), and all she could think of to do was—

Her stomach growled.

Blossom clutched it and sighed to herself. She was hungry. Go figure.

"I wonder what there is to eat around here?" she wondered aloud to herself. "I'll need to scrounge something up for myself eventually…"

Having thoroughly convinced herself, she rolled out of bed and hovered out the door, heading for the kitchen. For once, she was slightly grateful for her perfect memory—having built the place, Blossom knew exactly where the kitchen was… unless if Mojo had happened to do some renovations throughout the years.

Luckily, the kitchen was right where she remembered it. She floated inside.

"Good morning, Blossom," said Mojo, preparing eggs at the stove. He didn't even turn around to look at her.

"Good morning," said Blossom, trying her best to sound civil. "What do you have around here for breakfast?"

"Do not needlessly trouble yourself with worrying about your morning victuals. I am, right now and as we are speaking, preparing for you eggs and toast—the eggs being sunny-side up and the toast being only lightly browned, just the way you like it."

"How do you—never mind," muttered Blossom. It would be useless to pretend that she forgot that Mojo knew her every thought—she obviously remembered, and Mojo obviously knew that she remembered.

"I trust that your sleep was satisfactory?" he said.

"Why are you even bothering to—wait a minute," Blossom suddenly said. "If we've got the same mind, like you say—"

"I've wondered that myself," Mojo interrupted, placing two eggs and two pieces of toast each on two separate plates. "I am still working on—"

"You said you'd let me talk!" cried Blossom.

"Oh yes, I did," said Mojo. Placing her breakfast plate in front of her, he said with a sort of malicious grin, "Go ahead and state your question."

Blossom fumed. There was something… degrading about asking a question when the person you're asking it to already knows what it is. But still, she wasn't about to let Mojo turn her into a mute. "If we've got the same mind, then how is it that you were awake before me? Unless if you can prepare eggs and toast remarkably fast, you would have had to have woken up before me to prepare all this and get ready yourself."

"I was still extremely sleepy until you yourself woke up," said Mojo, buttering his own piece of toast. "But you do raise an interesting question. If we share the same mind, as it has become very obvious to me, and even to you, then it would stand to reason that we would both sleep and wake up at the same times. I have, however, come up with a theory as to why this is not always the case."

Mojo paused to take a drink from his glass of orange juice that had been previously set on the table. A long drink.

"Go on," Blossom finally said, emphasizing her irritated tone.

"It has everything to do with what we should be in theory. In theory, which is to say we should presume, reasonably believe, and deduce by our logic, our minds should literally be one—that is, we should, theoretically, supposedly, and presumably, only be one person, with one body. However, we are obviously not—you are a young female human, while I am an older male monkey, which are about as opposite from each other as you can get—and thus, while our brains were meant to be the same they are still missing some connections—and some similarities."

"Such as…?"

"Well, Blossom, despite your sometimes evil tendencies, and even—I am ashamed to admit this—my rare feelings of guilt, it is apparent that your thoughts and morals are decidedly what is normally considered 'good', while mine are decidedly what is normally considered 'evil'."

"I'm still not getting exactly what you mean," said Blossom. "We were supposed to be one mind? How does that work out?"

Mojo sighed. "Explaining this is difficult, even to someone of my colossal intelligence to someone of your colossal intelligence. In time, when you will allow yourself to break down that barrier in your mind and allow our minds to truly be one, you will understand this just as well as I do."

"I want to understand now," snapped Blossom, not adding that she was going to hold out on letting Mojo into her head as long as she possibly could.

"Very well," sighed Mojo. "This would be much easier if you would just accept that you and I could have something much greater than a telepathic relationship. My theory, idea, hypothesis, guess, speculation—"

"Mojo!"

"I'm getting there! –and general conclusion is that, when the Professor created you and your sisters, the result was not what it should have been."

"What do you mean?"

"This is only a theory, assumption… all that, mind you," Mojo pointed out. "To test my theory, and to understand it better, I would have to ask the Professor about it, and I would rather cut off my own fingers and eat them then approach him for help. But to be brief and to the point, you and your sisters were scientifically not what should have been the result of that experiment. Something went wrong."

"What could that have been?" asked Blossom. "It wasn't the Chemical X, because without that, there was just sugar, spice, and everything nice, and when you mix that together, you just get a mess."

"As I previously told you earlier, I have no idea," said Mojo, looking as if he was growing impatient with this conversation. "My only guess is that something went wrong, and your mind was split and copied into my own, but not entirely. For if it had been entirely, it would have taken both of us far shorter than four years to realize the connection!"

"That's why you only started knowing my thoughts after you realized… and that we only feel bits and pieces of each other…" said Blossom softly.

Mojo smiled. "Ah, you are now finally beginning to understand," he said.

Blossom shuddered to herself—she hated when he used that voice; it sent chills down her spine each and every time she heard it.

"Do you have perfect memory like I do?" she asked suddenly.

"Yet another bit of evidence to the fact that our minds are not entirely the same as they should be—for I do not. That is, in my own separate mind, at least. Of course, when you run through your own memories, I experience them just as clearly as you do. But now, let's change the subject—although discussing scientific matters with you is a rare pleasure, Blossom. You alone on this earth have an intellect to rival my own."

"Stop with the flattery, Mojo."

"I am only speaking what we both now know is scientific fact—or at least theory," Mojo quickly added. "However, I realize that you are reluctant to talk about this right now. A pity. But as this is the case, what exactly do you wish to do today?"

"I… I don't know," Blossom admitted.

"Well, I suggest you think about it," said Mojo, focusing his attention back on his breakfast. "We both know that you are not here for no reason."

"As soon as I figure out just what that reason is," Blossom murmured.

"You know what it is," smiled Mojo. "You are just too proud to admit what it is—that you need me to give you all my knowledge."

"I don't need you," snapped Blossom, pushing herself out of her chair and learning forward against the table. "I don't need anybody!"

"Alright then," said Mojo, still smiling. "If you don't need me, then why did you come here in the first place?"

"Because—because—I don't need you, I just want you. Your teachings, I mean!" Blossom quickly clarified.

Mojo laughed. "That was the perfect example of what is commonly referred to as a Freudian slip."

"Just shut up!" yelled Blossom, blowing up at Mojo yet again. "Trust me, if there was anyone else who could give me knowledge, then I would have gone to him first! I hate that you're the only one on Earth who can help me! I hate that!" With that, Blossom stormed out of the kitchen.

Mojo smirked. "What a stubborn cuss. She didn't even finish her breakfast."

O.o.O

"A very Happy New Year to you all…"

Blossom had plopped herself down in front of Mojo's high-definition TV—that he probably stole from someplace—and turned on the news, trying to act as nonchalant as she possibly could, in a desperate attempt to convince both herself and Mojo that she wasn't angry, that she wasn't absolutely melting every time Mojo smiled at her, and that she didn't need him at all.

Six years.

For six years now, she had never had any privacy at all! Every feeling of guilt, every nasty thought, every haughty air that she had felt but rarely showed—the right of everyone else to keep those thoughts to themselves had been one that Blossom had lost—and she didn't even realize it until now!

God, it made her blood boil.

"…our breaking news story today—Blossom Utonium of the Powerpuff Girls has gone missing…"

"Oh no," whispered Blossom.

"A runaway note was found, but the police have not yet ruled out a possible kidnapping of the leader of the Powerpuff Girls. Searches of the Powerpuff Girls' main antagonists' houses will be underway today."

Blossom stared at the screen for a few seconds, and then…

"MOJO!"

She zoomed back into the kitchen. "They're gonna come here, Mojo, they're gonna be looking for me! You have to hide me!"

"Hide you?" snorted Mojo. "When searching for you, those officers will most likely turn my observatory house inside out during their search for a location of where I might have hid you."

Blossom had known Mojo long enough to instantly figure out the focal point of that long and redundant sentence. "I've gotta hide somewhere!" she cried.

"More than that! You will have to hide in more than one place!"

"How will I do that?"

"You will have to let my mind into yours so that I can convey to you where you should go, and by what direction, so that you can remain unseen by the police so that they will not see you!"

"I can't do that! I haven't learned how yet!"

"Learned how? There's nothing to learn! You just don't want to learn." Mojo smiled again. "Suit yourself. You can, of course, just explain to the police officers that you are here by your own choice."

"They'd arrest you anyway," said Blossom, shaking her head. "They wouldn't want to take any chances."

"Why Blossom!" cried Mojo, looking surprised. "You shock me—as much as you can shock me by now."

"What do you mean—oh, and they'd make me go back home," Blossom quickly added.

Mojo just smiled at her, raising an eyebrow. "That is only a secondary concern, of course."

If Blossom had had a mallet, she would have smacked herself over the head with it at that moment. As it was, she was having a hard enough time fighting the urge to yank her brain out of her head and yelling at it for being such an idiot—for Mojo was right, of course. Her concern for Mojo had come before concern for herself.

A loud pounding interrupted Blossom's thoughts.

"Oh God—alright! Tell me where to go!" Blossom whispered.

"Go to your room for the time being," said Mojo quickly, pushing her in the direction of the guest bedroom.

"I know where it is!"

"Then go—and do not leave until I tell you! Keep your mind open and be ready for any information that I might be sending you!"

Blossom hovered, silently but quickly, to her room and shut the door behind her.

She turned on her ultra-sonic hearing, and just in time, for only seconds after Blossom shut the door behind her, Mojo opened the front door.

"What?" he bellowed. Blossom smiled to herself. He certainly wasn't acting suspicious… for Mojo, at least.

"My God, he actually is still alive," said a voice in surprise.

"Try to conceal your disappointment" snapped Mojo. "For what reason have you disturbed me by pounding on my door with your fists?"

"We have a warrant to search your house for the whereabouts of Blossom Utonium—"

"Oh, that. I just saw that on the news." Mojo sounded extremely irritated. "The disappearance of one of those accursed Powerpuff Girls—while fortunate—gives you no right to come barging into my place of dwelling!"

"As a former foe of the girls, you are on the top of our list of likely suspects of her kidnapping—if she was in fact kidnapped. It seems unlikely, so the sooner you let us in and search the place the sooner we'll leave."

"Alright, alright," snapped Mojo. "Just do not touch anything—and get this over with quickly and rapidly!"

Blossom heard the policemen step inside. "Let's check the lab first."

She waited, hearing every movement, everything they were looking through. After a few long minutes, she heard them move into another room.

And then…

Blossom had been expecting her signal from Mojo—if she, in fact, was actually able to receive one—to be one in words, but what she was experiencing now was totally different. She felt that she should go into the laboratory through the main doors and hide in one of the supply closets, since the policemen were in the back by now and wouldn't see her by the path that she should take—but this information was not coming at her in words, but more like… well, like a thought, like a quick sketch of the groundwork of the building.

Well, duh. It probably wasn't even Mojo who was sending her that thought… it was just her logic and reasoning that led her to come to that conclusion.

Even though you hadn't been thinking about it until that thought suddenly and unexpectedly popped into your head.

Well—well—what did it matter who thought it? What mattered was that she had to move to a new location, and quickly.

As quietly as she could, she opened the door, and then floated quickly to the laboratory, squeezing in the closet and silently closing the door behind her.

And she waited.

And waited.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, she heard one of the officers say, "Looks like she's not here."

"Of course she's not here," Mojo growled. "If I had captured her, you don't think I'd keep it a secret, do you?"

"I suppose not," admitted the other officer. "Let's go."

Step, step, step—door opening—step, step—door shutting.

Blossom climbed out of the closet, breathing a sigh of relief.

"As if they actually think I would have kidnapped you," Mojo muttered to himself, entering the lab. "I, Mojo Jojo, would not stoop to such a petty crime without leaving a demand for ransom!"

"Mojo…"

Mojo stopped and looked at Blossom. Blossom gulped, looked down, and shook her head.

"Go on and say it, Blossom. I know you want to."

"Damn you, Mojo, damn you and your mind reading abilities." She looked up again, glaring at him. "Thank you for telling me where to go. Alright? I said it."

"Wasn't so hard, was it?" grinned Mojo.

"Swallowing my pride is very hard to do, Mojo. You should know."

"Yes, I know that very well."

Blossom hovered towards the door to the living room. "I hate you, Mojo. I really do. Leave me alone—if I want you, I'll come to you, you got that?"

"I am entirely at your command, Blossom," said Mojo, giving a mock bow to her. "Despite the fact that I hate you as well, I have every intention of honoring whatever requests you make of me. After all, you are my guest."

"Good," said Blossom sharply. "You know I can leave any time I want!"

Mojo laughed rudely. "You will be here until the day you die—do not deceive yourself!"

Fuming, Blossom spun around and shot out of the room, singing "Row Row Row Your Boat" to herself, anything, anything to get Mojo out of her head!