Hello!

So I was dealing with writers block, but then this chapter came out smoothly and it was fun to write. So all is well.

I swung back around to Bubbles and Boomer this chapter because I feel there's still a lot of things to understand from that boy!

So enjoy!

Morning came and slowed respectfully to wake early risers. Boomer, being one of them, opens his eyes to something he subconsciously wanted from the previous night. He and Bubbles had fallen asleep together. She had dozed off first, and he refused to move. Of course, their position now being more distant than the first time. The Rowdyruff lifts his head from the back of the couch. He immediately places a hand over his chest, running it down to his stomach, then back up to his neck. The wounds were gone of course, but his mind liked to play tricks on him. He wonders if Butch ever experienced the same thing.

It was confusing for him to accept that his brother ever got lashed at. He had just assumed, what with Butch being forced to stay behind to have a "chat" with HIM. This had happened many times, but Boomer never thought anything of it. Was he supposed to? He felt like he just crossed a line even thinking about it. The idea that HIM could do as he pleased to one of them, and it not be mentioned between any of the boys, hurt Boomer in a way that revealed how close he actually was to his brothers. If he were to storm off and complain to one of them, surely they'd expect a chance to do so themselves. He can't expect empathy if he never returned it.

A soft sigh was heard to his left. He looks to see Bubbles still asleep, probably dreaming about who knows what. He decides he can't just sit around all day until she wakes up. It was then he got an idea.

Boomer lazily fights his way to his bedroom, closing the door. His drowsiness escapes the more he thinks about hitting the call button on his phone. The name is up and ready to go. He sits down on his bed, the phone gripped in his hand while resting between his legs. He hits the button, pulling it up to his face. He holds his breath as the first three rings go by. Four, five, six... voice mail. He immediately tries again.

Only two rings pass before a tired voice picks up, "What...?"

Boomer releases his breath, somewhat relieved he got an answer. "Butch," It came out quicker than he wanted. He never really called his brothers, except to find out when a meeting with HIM would take place. When the boys first separated, and each got their own place to live, it was Brick that would occasionally call Boomer to see if everything was fine. But that ended when Boomer stopped answering, refusing to be worried about. "Um," he tried. He knew why he had called, but now it was just difficult. He heard Butch sigh on the other end.

"What's wrong now?" He sounded more awake, and less concerned. Boomer bit his bottom lip, wondering if he should just come out with it already. Of course, that could lead to Butch getting defensive and say something about how it was none of anyone's business. He decided to wait on that one.

"Is everything okay?"

"Gee I don't know, you're the one who called me." Boomer breathes in, knowing he would get that kind of response. Why was it so hard? Maybe it was the fact that HIM could be watching. But considering he only watched to see if rules were broken, it wouldn't make much sense now that Boomer's rules were gone.

"I know. I meant with, uh, Buttercup." He lowers his voice for the off chance of his words making it to Bubbles' ears. Butch forces a harsh laugh.

"That's why you called? At," he stops for a moment, "six in the morning?" Boomer knits his eyebrows together. If Butch should feel anything, it's grateful that his brother gave him a call in the first place. "You know what, it's better now than later. Get it over with."

Boomer swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. He switches the phone from one ear to the other. "... has..." his words escape him. Maybe asking something as personal as this was crossing a line. Then again, regardless of small communication, he has the right to know about his brother. "When we talk to HIM... has he ever..." his voice was soft. It's not like he had to scream all the time to get his point across, but speaking delicately with Butch made him feel like an idiot. "Like, when you stay behind, does he-" a sharp breath was taken from Boomer's lungs. He'd forgotten to breathe.

"Dude are you okay?" Butch sounded like he actually gave a damn for once in his life. He repeats the question two more times. "Boomer," the blue Rowdyruff runs a hand through his hair, finally coughing to make up for the silence. "What the fuck, man. Don't do that shit."

"It's fine... I'm fine." The thought of HIM waiting to pop up any moment pushed Boomer further away from the question. If he were to ask Butch if he ever got lashed at, or beaten, it might send the wrong message. HIM would assume his boys were teaming up to rebel or something. "You still there?" he asks, hopeful his brother didn't hang up on him. Now it was Butch's turn to be silent.

"... I'm coming over." The sudden statement almost made Boomer jump. Before he could protest, the call ended. He angrily rolls his eyes, giving a huff of disappointment. He tosses his phone behind him, standing up to let the blood flow to his legs. This is far from what he wanted. Talking to Butch in person would make it easier, but now HIM had an excuse to watch the both of them. The thought of anyone coming over reminded him of Maya. If her memory was really wiped of last night, then she wouldn't be coming over at all.

"We've got company." Boomer responds to Bubbles' question as to why he was picking up around each room. Not like his brother would care what his place looked like.

"Oh, is Maya stopping by?" Bubbles asks while rubbing her eyes. She finishes with a yawn. Boomer stops with a rag in his hand. He faces the counter, looking down at his hands.

"No, she's not scheduled to anyway." He coldly responds, wiping crumbs away from the toaster and onto the floor.

"Is she just going to leave her stuff here?" Bubbles leans forward to poke at the folders left scattered by the coffee table. Boomer sets the rag on the kitchen counter, immediately making his way towards the couch. He scoops up the material, trying to organize the papers.

"Yeah, she... said it was fine. It was late, and she has some stuff at home she can work on." He sets the folders in a neat pile on a naked shelf by the TV. He wipes his hands on his pants, making his way back to the kitchen.

"She probably wants to go out with you again. I think she liked the date." A hint of laughter rang through the Rowdyruff's ears. Boomer lets the corner of his mouth curl into a crooked smile.

"It wasn't a date." His smile drops when two loud pounds on the door make the both of them jump. After a quick glance at each other, Boomer walks over to the handle. As soon as he unlocks it, Butch barges his way through, not giving Boomer a second glance.

"Alright, what the hell happened?" The dark haired Rowdyruff obviously didn't come prepared. He's dressed in a crinkled green shirt and jeans he probably pulled out of the dirty basket. His hair is askew and his eyes show lack of sleep. He must've flown here, because Butch's car has a strong musk to it you can only get if you sit in it for at least ten minutes. Boomer probably didn't look any better. He was already exhausted thinking about how many things he'll have to explain to Butch, and to Bubbles when Butch leaves.

"Nothing happened." Boomer responds, eyeing towards Bubbles' general direction. It flew over Butch's head though.

"So I came here for no reason."

"You didn't have to come." Boomer could feel his nails digging into his palms. He was sure his knuckles were white by now.

"When you start coughing on the other end of a phone call, that tells me something's up."

"I said I was fine." Boomer finishes, hoping the conversation would end right there.

"Hey Butch." A small voice cuts the silence. Both Rowdyruffs look at Bubbles. Her knees are on the cushions while her arms are on the back of the couch. It was odd for her to have interrupted them. Between the two boys, Boomer's the one to look shocked. Butch, on the other hand, smiles.

"Hey Blondie. Been a while." He winks, while wrapping an arm around Boomer. "Boomer, here, did say something about helping out a Puff. I guess that was nice of him." Butch tightens his grip around his brother. Boomer rolls his eyes, pushing away from him. "So, Bubbles, how've your sisters been?"

"Stop." Boomer interrupts, not very amused. It was one thing for Butch play dumb, and act like he didn't have a Powerpuff of his own at home, but this was too far. Butch looks all innocent, shrugging his shoulders.

"Just making conversation."

"Well now I'm ending it." Boomer tugs on Butch's arm, forcing him to follow. Before stepping out of the room, the boys notice Bubbles smiling away. Something in Boomer hated it. She probably thought this was how he and his brother act all the time. Although that wouldn't be too bad. If he could have a single chat with his brothers without bursting into a war, it would probably help everyone out in the long run.

"She seems nice." Butch teases while entering the bathroom. Boomer closes the door behind them, locking it. He also turns the exhaust fan on to block out sound.

"Doesn't matter. She thinks I like Maya." He doesn't know why he brought that up, but Boomer felt it was important. Maybe to keep Butch from teasing him about Bubbles.

"Ah, well do you?" This caught Boomer off guard. Looking back on it, he realizes that Maya is a pretty decent person. A great catch, really. But he couldn't find it in himself to actually feel like there was more there.

"N-no. I don't." Something felt right about telling someone about himself, someone that isn't Maya for once. If he feels this way about his personal life, then surely he can bring up HIM and what went down last night. If anything really did. All day Boomer has been questioning if any of that actually happened. His scars were gone, Maya doesn't even remember anything- he hoped, and now he feels ridiculous for even bringing his brother into it. Boomer shakes his head, "Why are you even here?"

Butch leans against the sink, "The truth?" Boomer nods at the question, Butch continues, "I heard you mention HIM and you seemed pretty worked up about it." Boomer felt his eyes widen a bit. It was weird having Butch casually mention HIM like it was no big deal. Wasn't he scared? "Then you didn't respond, so I got a little worried- but I figured I had nothing better to do. Buttercup was still asleep so..."

"Worried..." Boomer repeats, hearing it as if it was new to him.

"Shut up..." Butch smiles, lightly punching his brother's shoulder. "I don't hate you all the time." The two sat silently for a bit, waiting for the other to say something. Butch steals his chance, "So, HIM... did he-"

"Um," Boomer looks up towards the ceiling, hinting that HIM could very well be watching. Butch shakes his head, his hair falling just above his eyes.

"It's fine. He can't hear us." Everything in Boomer believes that isn't true. But the look of honesty in his brother begs to differ. Boomer relaxes a bit, curling his lips to the side. He chews on the inside of his cheek. "Alright, take your shirt off."

"What?" Boomer looks up confused. Did he hear that correctly? He eyes Butch, furrowing his brows. His brother just stands there expecting.

"I wanna see where he got you." Butch explains, hoping that will clear the water. Boomer realizes that his brother has already figured out what he was going to bring up. He assumes it's because of the hesitant looks he makes when HIM's name is mentioned, and that Butch has experienced this before.

"It's gone, though. All the marks. They disappeared-"

"No shit, now just do it." Butch steps closer, tempting to do it himself. Boomer breathes out, reaching behind his neck. He grips the shirt, pulling it over his head. He reveals nothing but a head full of static hair and a smooth milky chest, just as expected. He grips the fabric, ready to say 'I told you so'. Butch puts out his hands, his palms facing up. A soft green glow rises from the center, then out to his fingertips. Without warning, Butch hovers his hands over Boomer's chest. The blond catches his breath. It didn't hurt, but it didn't feel pleasant either. Just felt like his organs were being cooked on the inside. Like the exact moment before you throw up, he felt sick to his stomach.

Like reversing time, the marks HIM left were starting to reform. His smooth skin breaking to squeeze into pink flesh. The sight almost had Boomer to the floor. He pushes Butch's hands away, scared the pain would appear too. "What the hell?"

"Yep, still there." Butch backs off, not phased by Boomer's small outburst. Boomer looks down, fearing his heart would fail him. The cuts fade, leaving behind his perfect skin.

"Why...?" Boomer tries to steady his breathing. He grips the shirt still in his hand. "How did you... know that?"

"No dude, look." Butch lifts his shirt up, revealing his left side. His skin was much more appealing and darker than Boomer's. When the green glow hit it, and the long claw mark revealed itself, it proved his skin can be just as ugly as Boomer's was. The poor thing wrapped around Butch's back and went up to his shoulder blades. It was really disgusting. "Hurts like a bitch, too."

"It hurts?" Boomer imagines his own pain returning to him. He clenches his teeth together to forget about the thought. Butch lowers his shirt, straightening it out.

"Only sometimes. Like when I don't do what HIM wants." Boomer didn't need to hear that. His heart began pounding again, and he was sure he was beginning to sweat. He swallows, trying to make his mouth moist as possible.

"You didn't tell anyone? Not even Brick?"

"Nah, Brick's probably only had it done about twice. Me, not so much. It doesn't matter who we tell anyway." Butch shrugs it off. Boomer concludes that if Butch could figure out how to prove the scars were there, then he must've had it happen way too often. "I don't know, I guess it's kind of like a leash, or a... a shock collar, yeah one of those." Butch finishes, sounding uninterested in the topic already. Boomer feels his face go white. Forever bounded by something that could potentially harm him at any given time. It's bad enough to have been watched by the guy, but to be conditioned into behaving well? Who knows how long these marks would stay. When the plan was complete or for life.

Boomer didn't notice until now, but he'd been trying to say something. The words wont come out and he finds himself resembling a fool. "Dude, breathe." Butch waves a hand in his brother's face. Boomer forces a breath, but it's short and needy. He repeats until he's light headed. Butch takes action by forcing Boomer to sit down on the toilet stool. "You alright man?" As soon as he asks, he feels his shoulder being squeezed tightly. Butch swallows, taking it in that his brother is having a panic attack.

The two sit for a few moments, trying to grasp the situation. Butch steadies his own breath so Boomer would follow suit. "Hey it's gonna be okay. Everything's fine. The bastard wont hurt you." Butch didn't know if any of those words helped, but it was worth a try. Boomer continues to steal sharp breaths, wishing he hadn't called his brother. Although, watching Butch breathe as if everything was fine had him convinced it actually was. He was already starting to calm down. "See?"

Boomer looks at his brother. There was a wave of satisfaction knowing that despite Butch's calmness, he was just as scared as the blond. Butch leans in, pressing his forehead onto the other's. Boomer closes his eyes remembering how this was done when he was younger. It was the only advice they had kept out of all the therapists Boomer had interacted with. It's just the feeling that someone was actually there, everything was real, and the walls weren't caving in. The two of them lean away from each other.

"You...?" Butch stands up, preparing to leave.

"Yeah, I'm okay." Boomer runs a hand through his hair. He was partially lying, due to still feeling dizzy.

"Well!" Butch claps his hands together. "Blondie's waiting for us." With that he unlocks the door, stepping out into the hall. He pops his head back in, "Oh yeah, and put your shirt back on, ya perv." Boomer stands up, placing himself in front of the mirror. He didn't look too wrecked, just slightly done with what the world had to offer him. He slips his shirt back on, glad he wasn't wearing it during that little episode. It would've been drenched in sweat.

When reaching the living room he finds that Butch has started up another conversation with Bubbles. She was smiling, so it didn't look offensive. Butch turns towards Boomer. "I'm gonna head home." He points behind himself with his thumb. Boomer nods, leading them both to the door. When it opens, Butch turns and leans against the frame. "I was thinking, me, you and Brick should go out this weekend."

Boomer scoffs, "Or not." He attempts to close the door. Butch stops it with his arm.

"I know it's not your thing, but you gotta get out sometime." Butch lifts an eyebrow to be sure Boomer heard every word. The blond sighs, looking back towards Bubbles who has preoccupied herself with the TV.

"Fine. I'll think about it." Boomer finishes, stepping away from the door. Butch leans in to ruffle his brothers hair.

"Be good." Butch finally leaves, closing the door behind him.

Good. Nothing about this is good. Him and his brothers have captured human beings and are treating them like pets. If not that, then less than. No amount of food, clothes, or materials bought for the girls could be considered good on this level compared to the higher damage. It's going to eat at him until there's nothing left. He just wants theses two months to go by, then he'll have an idea of who he'll turn against.

I'm sorry for the lack of "romance" between Bubbles and Boomer. I honestly just wanted to get some things sorted out with what's going on in his mind and how he feels. Right now, their story line is my favorite so don't worry, they'll be plenty of "romance" soon enough.

Thanks for reading, and I'll see you next chapter which will definitely be Brick and Blossom.