Chapter 25

[The Art of Dying]

Professor glanced out into the living room as he scrambled some eggs. He'd muted the television, unable to hear it anyway, and not wanting to risk waking Bubbles.

The rest of the week had gone smoothly. Bubbles made both of her appointments, and while there seemed to be no outward changes in Bubbles's demeanor, at least Professor felt confident she wasn't slipping out at night. He'd asked her to not lock her door, and (as with all the other recent inconveniences) she'd offered no resistance. Professor started checking on her once a night, and was always glad to spy her sleeping form in the dim glow of the streetlights.

Unfortunately, the Harvester attacks seemed to have kept up their pace. Professor tried to stay away from everything, but Sedusa kept texting him updates. Despite himself, he glimpsed a few words and phrases here and there before dismissing them. The details of her plans weren't solid in his mind, but late last night she'd sent him an address and the word, "Soon."

However, he saw no harm in exposing himself to a little public knowledge, even if he wanted to stay out of their private plans. So he watched a local newscast while he cooked, trying to make out the headlines and ticker text from the kitchen, wondering if there was any talk of Sedusa.

Boy, was there. Since he hadn't been keeping up with anything until now, he wasn't sure whether this was a recent or development or ongoing, nor was he clear what the fuss was about, but whatever was going on they managed to keep talking about her the entire time he cooked.

He diverted his attention from the broadcast to crack another pair of eggs into the pan, scrambling them with the turner as he went. When he glanced back up, he noticed the mute indicator was gone.

Setting the utensil aside, he poked his head into the living room. Bubbles was standing behind the couch, remote in hand, watching the broadcast.

"Oh, hi! Good morning, honey. Breakfast is almost done."

Bubbles slowly turned to face him, still bleary-eyed and blinking slowly. She pointed the remote at the TV and shut it off.

Relieved, Professor turned back to the eggs before they overcooked.

Bubbles sat at the table, staring off into the distance, as Professor finished making the second plate. He handed it to her, accepting first for himself.

"I'm impressed," Professor said, beaming, trying to inject some extra joviality to make up for Bubbles's attitude. "It's good to see you up on your own so early. Sleeping better?"

"I've been napping a little here and there during the day," she replied. "It seems to help make up for the nights."

"Nightmares?"

"Kind of," she replied as she began to eat. Her appetite had seemed to improve somewhat as well, though he would still be surprised to see her finish her plate right now.

"So, I'm thinking of making it official," Professor started. "That whole beach trip idea. I'm thinking Monday wouldn't be too crowded. How's that sound?"

Before replying, Bubbles continued to slowly chew and swallow the food already in her mouth. She still seemed distant, like her attention was focused elsewhere, but apparently she was following the conversation. "Sounds okay, I guess. How long?"

"I dunno. A few hours, maybe? We'll play it by ear. What do you think we should pack for a lunch? PB-and-Js?"

"Could we pack the stuff and make them there? I hate when the jelly makes the bread all soggy."

"Well, it is a little gross. But you know what I like with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?"

Bubbles raised a forkful of food to her mouth again. She seemed to nurse it, going slower than last time. Almost unreasonably slowly. Her eyes stared at the corner in the ceiling, unfocused. Unless she was trying really hard to think of an answer, it seemed she'd briefly checked out of the conversation.

Eventually, she swallowed and replied, "What's that?"

"Apple juice. I can't remember the last time I drank any."

"Do we have suntan lotion?" Bubbles asked.

"I'll check, but thanks for reminding me."

Bubbles made it about halfway through her plate before she stood up. "Thanks for breakfast, daddy," she said weakly.

"Going upstairs?"

"Yeah."

"Are you finding stuff to do like the doctor suggested?"

"The shrink? Yeah," she replied. She continued speaking as she meandered towards the exit. "I remembered I've got a summer book report or something. I'm going to grab a book from Blossom's room to read."

"Sounds like... Well, if you're me, sounds like fun."

Bubbles stopped just inside the living room for several seconds. Finally, she turned around. "We should at least clean up their rooms sometime. It'd be wrong for spiders and bugs to move in before we've even moved them out."

Professor considered this. It was something they'd wanted to do together... Maybe with all this Harvester stuff distracting them, it'd be easier.

No...not the Harvester. Not so much, at least. It was more the influence of Princess's death. Although Blossom, or even Buttercup hadn't passed all that long ago, this new loss made theirs seem that much more distant.

"I think that's a good idea. Why don't we plan on doing that tomorrow, then?" After a pause, he added, "Just to tidy up, though, right? Not to box up?"

Bubbles shrugged. "May as well, while we're in there."

"I'm not sure we have enough boxes, though... Maybe I'll put word out to my university buddies to scrounge some up?"

Bubbles shrugged again. "Whatever you say."

At the moment, Professor really wanted to speak to Bubbles regarding her demeanor. But what was he supposed to say? "Show a little enthusiasm." "Cheer up." "Offer some resistance—you're practically a teenager, for goodness' sake!"

Seeing her father had nothing further to say, Bubbles continued her trek through the living room, leaving his sight.

After finishing his plate, Professor grabbed Bubbles's and polished that off as well.

If Bubbles was going to spend her time reading, and with nothing else special planned for the day, Professor thought maybe it would be a good time to get back into his projects. After he cleaned up the kitchen, he made his way downstairs to do just that.

Partway down, he received another text. As expected, it was Sedusa, but he still had to make sure it wasn't someone more important. Maybe he should give her texts a different sound. He was pretty sure his phone could do that.

"This is it," the text began. Professor couldn't help but skim the rest, since it was so short. "Just a waiting game, now."

Good for them, Professor thought, pocketing his phone.

Before he knew it, it was past nine in the evening. At first, Professor sat back and stretched with satisfaction at a productive day's work.

Then he sat up straight and checked the time again. Suddenly he felt more neglectful than proud.

He quickly threw off his gloves and plastic face shield, barging out of his inner lab and bounding up the stairs. Of course, there was nothing to be panicked about, but he'd skipped lunch. And dinner. For all he knew, so did Bubbles. She'd taken care of herself well enough in the past, but given her current state would she have even bothered?

He knocked on her door.

"Come in," she called back.

Professor poked just his head in. "Sorry, sweetie, daddy got carried away again. Have you eaten?"

Bubbles sat at her desk with a school notebook. She twisted back to look at him. "Leftovers."

"Ah...yeah, I guess we did build up a bunch. I guess I'll have some, too. Are you hungry now?"

She shook her head as she turned back around. "Just ate," she added as she wrote something else in her notebook.

"Okay. Sorry again, sweetie."

"'s okay," she replied.

"Well...have a good night," he said. "In case I don't see you."

Bubbles put her pen down and slid out of her chair. She strode the few steps over to the door and kissed him on the cheek. "Good night, daddy."

It was odd to hear those sweet words in her tired monotone, but Professor appreciated the gesture, even if she immediately returned to her work. "Good night, sweetheart."

Professor paused a few moments to watch her at her desk, thinking that maybe she was finally starting to work herself out of her lull. Or at least going through the motions, which was a good start.

He closed the door and checked the fridge. It seemed Bubbles had gone for the soup, so he warmed a plate of spaghetti instead.

He sat in the living room, turning the TV on with low volume. Not that Bubbles couldn't hear it better than him if she tried—she could probably hear televisions all over the city, for that matter—but he hoped she wouldn't even notice.

"—lack of police response?" someone asked. Seems they were rebroadcasting an earlier press conference on the evening news.

A police captain at the podium responded, "Legally, we're not able to take action at the moment."

A different reporter asked, "But isn't there strong reason to believe that Sedusa is holed up inside?"

"There is some suspicion, yes, but solving a riddle doesn't exactly give us due cause for a search. All I can say is that we're giving the matter all due consideration and that, if we feel it is appropriate, we will be—and perhaps already are—working on approving a search warrant."

Yet another reporter asked, "But this 'riddle' was independently solved by a multitude of people and plastered over the Internet within an hour of Sedusa's message. Assuming she really is lying low at this particular warehouse, isn't this delay basically giving her a chance to escape if she realizes she basically put up a big neon sign pointing at her?"

"That would be an unfortunate turn of events, I'll admit, but unlike the vigilantes, we members of the police force are legally and duty bound to adhere to certain procedures. Regardless, I can say that I believe effective measures have been taken, and do not believe these delays—"

The captain was cut off at this point as a newsflash interrupted the replay.

"Breaking news," the anchor explained. "Earlier today, police gained entry to the parkside lair of Mojo Jojo, who has not made a public appearance since the Harvester murders began. We are receiving reports that Mojo was not found on the premises. While there are no signs of a struggle, sources say there are other signs of a sudden, unexpected departure."

Ultimately, they had nothing else of interest to offer. At least not in the way of hard evidence or useful facts. They did manage to play it up a bit, but in the end all anyone knew was that Mojo hadn't been seen in a while and apparently hadn't been home in that time.

After a while, Professor dozed off.