CHAPTER 55: WOLFISH WAYS

ME: Yo, I'm back! Sorry about the wait. But the reason it took me so long was simply because this chapter ended up being so big—23650+ words...! I didn't know the word count while typing, but seriously—it's long enough to cause my phone to lag while typing!

BRICK: That means you wrote too much, idiot.

ME: *smacks his arm* Maybe, but there's a reason this chapter's so long. And so I decided to cut it in half into two 11000 word chapters so it might be shorter than y'all are used to but I promise to post the next one real soon. With this piece of news comes some bad good news!

BRICK: Oh good.

ME: *rolls eyes* Anyway, it's now November and I'm taking part in NaNoWriMo so I don't know how often I'll be able to write for this story.

BRICK: So you're not writing anymore? See, I knew it was good.

ME: Noooo... I'll still be writing; I just don't know if I'll be able to update this month thanks to NaNoWriMo.

BRICK: I guess that's the good part.

ME: Goddammit, Brick! That was the bad part.

BRICK: Now you're just assuming people actually care—

ME: *slaps hand onto his mouth* Shhhhhh. It's okay, Brick.

BRICK: Mmph!

ME: As I was saying, NaNoWriMo stands for "National Novel Writing Month" and during that time, you do exactly that: write a 50000 word novel. I'm attempting it this year so I don know if I can balance both things, but I'll still be writing for this. You guys should try it too if you have the time!

The good news is for those that actually care: the NaNoWriMo story I'm doing has to do with Damon, Sylvie, Tyrone and all the others as teens. It'll be about how they came together and fell in love and stuff. 50000 words, people!

If anybody's interested and I ever get the chance to post it, I think I'll get a Wattpad account for it since it's not really fanfiction and no one on DeviantART would care—they mostly follow my drawings. But still, I'd be happy to do that and it's basically Call of the Wolves' prequel!

It's called Smoke & Mirrors. Here's the summary! As a quick note, I wrote it when the story was still mostly about romance. Now it's got more action planned to go in it, but I'm not yet sure if that's reason enough to change the summary.


Summary:

A good man's biggest flaw is that he can love too much.

Fire has always scared Damon.

He was eight years old when the flames of war claimed his family, and he was rescued to live another day. Through this act of kindness and the end of the war, he becomes best friends with a boy named Tyrone and recovers his happiness. At first glance, the two are very similar. They're both happy and playful and kind-hearted to a fault. However, one girl can prove that these two boys are in fact very different people.

Damon falls for Sylvie, a sweet but sickly young girl after he rescues her from thugs. Tyrone, on the other hand, only sees her as a little sister, and nothing more. The three's lives come together in a wild ride of romance, destruction, jealousy, action, and even death.

Damon's life spirals out of control when he falls claim to envy, and he tries desperately not to let it consume him. Meanwhile, a more violent threat lurks in the shadows, and lives might be claimed if Damon and his friends don't fight back soon. One might question Damon's growing darkness, and even his sanity by the end of it all. However, many things will play a part in this tale, and death is the determining factor. In this exciting prequel to Call of the Wolves, we are introduced to the tragic action-romance story that even rekindled the flames of an old, all-out war. Secrets plague this lost tale, and we will unravel some of these mysteries with the story that led to Damon's downfall.

Are you brave enough to learn the truth?

Gaze into your true reflection, if you dare.
After all, it's all just
smoke and mirrors.


And now onto the chapter itself! So read on, everyone—and don't forget to review this new chapter and tell me if you'd like to see a prequel to this story! Oh, and I own nothing but the story and my OC's—like the RRB and PPG ones, or like Ross and Michael,or like Vix and Christie, or like Damon and Raymond...

Chapter 55: Wolfish Ways


The sound of tapping filled the room, bouncing off of walls and coming back to him as he sat at his desk, tapping his pen against the wood. The outside world was starting to stir; people were getting out of school and work as they bustled to their homes.

He himself was just getting back into work. He'd gone out to do some hunting for fun, taking a break from his project planning. He glanced out the window, smiling somewhat as he remembered the great catch he'd gotten that day. The catch had been an organism he'd known for awhile now; a fast runner and strong fighter too. It made him all the more proud of his kill. Quite a catch, if I do say so myself, he thought proudly.

Come on, Damon, focus. He turned back to his paper and sighed. Nothing really exciting had happened recently, and thus there was barely anything worth mentioning in his journal. There was Danes sending out troops the other day—again, he thought in boredom, Danes never switches up his style—and some had been beaten while others had succeeded.

It wasn't anything exciting.

Damon sighed again. The war was losing its excitement, and while he knew it would climb up in tension again soon, he couldn't bear to wait that long. He still couldn't carry out his plan yet, but sooner or later he'd have to make a move. Especially since nothing else was happening. He needed to do something to set the war off again.

A reaction.

A firecracker. A firework. An explosion.

Damon's eyes widened and his lips stretched out in a grin of excitement.

Light bulb~


"Father? Father, where are you?" Cassandra looked around and was immediately disturbed by the silence that followed her cries. "Father!"

No one answered, and she tried to ignore her terror and force herself out of bed. Her voice was shaking, but not as much as her body was, she discovered. She was weak-kneed and almost immediately upon standing up, she practically toppled over.

Cassandra grappled wildly for the bedframe, stumbling awkwardly for her bedroom door. She managed to make it by supporting herself on anything she could: vines, desks, shelves.

She glanced out the doorway. The hallway was empty and it was quiet—almost too quiet. "Father!" she called again, and again was met with nothing.

Cassandra was getting queasy. What if Father is injured? What if he's not here? Is he dead?

With those morbid, scared thoughts dancing around in her head, she managed to force herself out of the doorway. As soon as she let go, she collapsed onto the floor. Her mind's eye was flashing images of the past now, and her head was pounding...

The last thing she remembered was an explosion just as she had pushed her father out of the way. There had been this giant shock—it had hurt really badly; rattling around in her bones as if someone was slamming her into a gong. The sharp pain returned and she rubbed her temples, trying to think despite the ache. What else... What else happened?

The next memory was of hazy eyes, blurred vision as her father stood above her, looking scared and wide-eyed. Her hearing had been fuzzy, but she thought he was screaming her name. "Hold on, hold on," he had been saying. His cheeks and eyes had looked shiny as something wet hit her cheek. She remembered thinking dizzily, Is he crying? Why is he crying? I'm okay, Father. I'm okay. Please don't cry. She had tried to say it out loud, but then...

Cassandra let out a wail of pain. Her head felt like it was splitting in half now. The next memory was shaky, and she only remembered blinking as her father stood above her, talking urgently with someone else. A bright light shone above her. Before that, she could recall easing in and out of consciousness; she could see sirens and bright flashes of red as everyone hustled her into a vehicle. An ambulance? Her father hadn't noticed her blinking at first, but when he did he looked so hopeful and excited. He had bent down and tried to talk to her, but she couldn't respond. All she did was blink.

While he had seemed relieved, it clearly hadn't satisfied him. But despite her best efforts, no words ever came out and her consciousness slipped away again. This time for a long, long time.

Cassandra wondered exactly how long. The pain was getting to her, and her vision was blurring. She wanted to stay awake, but it was possible that no one would ever come.

No... No! I have to wait—for Father. He will come back. He will come back. He has to come back. He just has to. Cassandra's eyes rolled to the top of her head as her consciousness began ebbing away again. What...would I do without him? He has to come back...

He just has to...

Her eyes closed as the last of her energy was wrenched away from her.

Father... Sampson...

Just where are you?


Sampson could feel a tingle run down his spine and he shivered. It was a feeling he couldn't quite explain. It wasn't—

"Are you scared?" sneered Harry, glancing at his friend.

Sampson glared back. It wasn't quite fear. "It's not from fear," he said curtly. Harry had become more and more aggressive as the war waged on, and Sampson hated it. He missed Fillip. He missed the man Harry had been before Fillip had been shot.

Harry replied with a grunt and spotted someone flitting by. He aimed his arrow and got ready to shoot, just as Sampson realized who the target was.

It was Ross.

"No!" He jumped upwards and knocked the arrow from Harry's grip.

The arrow shot into the sky and slammed into the ground beside Harry's foot, causing the man to look up and glare at his friend. "What the hell, Sampson!? I had that! Whose side are you on, anyway?"

"We're on school grounds, Harry! We're not supposed to cause a ruckus here. I don't even know why we're here."

His friend glanced at his watch. "We're here to watch for Tyrone's boy."

"Why?" demanded Sampson. "And why did you try to shoot him? Here, of all places!"

"Look, that's none of your business, alright? I was just asked to keep an eye on him. I don't know why either." Harry sounded annoyed as he picked up the arrow and reloaded.

"Well, don't shoot at him," Sampson scolded. "I don't even know why you're listening to this creepy employer. Why didn't you tell me about him earlier?"

"Because you'd be nagging me like you are now?"

"I'm only nagging because this so-called 'employer' has asked you to do unacceptable things! I can't believe you're spying on Ross."

"He's an important key in this war, alright? That's it."

"So why were you going to shoot him!?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Let it go already, okay? Besides, there's a window that's protecting him. I was just having some fun; I ain't seriously going to hurt the kid."

Sampson wasn't sure he believed him. They both knew that Harry's arrows could've easily penetrated the glass of the window. The shattering glass would've hurt Ross—along with the arrow, making it even worse and thus not protective at all.

"Hey, isn't that—" Harry's eyes widened. "Samps; that's ol' Mag Hag and her loyal dog, Chris," he spat.

"What?" He felt his blood run cold as he also caught sight of the dynamic duo. He'd never quite wanted to see them dead, but seeing them back on the battlefield was a terrible omen. Maggie and Chris were known as the Demonic Bats. Maggie's bite was just as bad as her bark, and Chris was a shadow flitting in the dark.

Maggie was dressed in "work clothes": a tight, black skirt and a dark-gold suit jacket. Her messy red hair was tied up in a ponytail, and she wore glasses with red lipstick. Chris was dressed in a sharp black suit and his ice-blue eyes were as penetrating as ever. Maggie was talking to a man, her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed together. She looked unimpressed.

Harry began edging closer, before Sampson could say anything. Gulping back panic, Sampson followed more slowly. Soon he could hear Maggie's loud, commanding voice crystal clear.

"What do you mean you can't show us the files?" she hissed, green eyes dark and stormy.

"I just can't," the man said, shaking his head with his hands turned up in the air. "They're private."

Maggie stomped her foot forward, which was fitted into a black, six-inch stiletto. She grabbed him by the collar. "Look, mister—we made a deal. I don't like wearing this gaudy outfit at. Fucking. All. I don't care if you chose the school grounds because you'd be more protected from me here. I'll still kill you, so don't waste my time. I'm only going to ask you once more before I cut off your head: Where. Are. The. Files?"

"I-I can't—"

"YOU'RE WEARING MY PATIENCE THIN," she snarled, eyes blazing.

"I'm sorry; I really can't unless Danes is here to authorize it himself. Otherwise this is against the rules that he set for me."

"Those files aren't Danes'," Chris finally said, his voice sounding much calmer than his wife's. He nodded at a seething Maggie. "If you do not have a death wish, then I suggest you listen to her."

"But my duty—"

"Your duty is to obey the command of a man in a higher position than you like an obedient lapdog. Danes was that man, and I am that man. Give me the files." Chris' voice was hard stone.

"Why not just ask Danes for them? He can access them easily; they've all been scanned onto his computer," the man suggested.

"What did you say?" Maggie snapped. "Are you telling me what to do? We need the physical copy of the file, dipshit."

The man swallowed and stepped down.

"If you don't wish to die, then you will give me those goddamn files."

After a little more hesitation, he finally caved and opened up his briefcase. He passed the files to her. Maggie's green eyes brightened just as Sampson caught Harry aiming his arrow from the corner of his eye.

"Harry, no!" he hissed, but it was too late.

The arrow sprung from the bow, and it slammed into the man's body—just where the heart was. The man made a gurgling sound and collapsed to the ground, blood pooling from his lips. He stared at Maggie and Chris, as if it were Danes shooting him for listening to them. He stared at the duo with begging eyes that said "help me", as if it were their fault he was dying.

Maggie glanced upwards. Harry emerged from the trees. "Sorry you had to die anyway," he remarked, not sounding sorry at all.

The redheaded woman placed a hand on her hip, leaning her weight on one leg. She looked more annoyed than anything else. It wasn't like she was disturbed by the dead man at her feet. "Oh hi, Harry. Let me guess, you're being accompanied by your fellow 'musketeers'? Where's Fillip and Sampson?"

"Fillip's...unable to join us," Harry stated coldly.

"And Sampson? He's still around, isn't he?" Maggie flicked her frizzy red hair over her shoulder as she glanced around. "Guess we'll need to demote you two down to Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum now, huh? Who wants to be Tweedle who?"

Harry let out a low snarl and fired his arrows.

Chris darted forward almost immediately and pulled up the man that had just died. Another three arrows went straight into his flesh.

Maggie narrowed her eyes. "I guess you're Tweedle Dum then." The sarcasm had vanished from her voice, and now it was only pure poison that laced her words.

Sampson made a move to help his friend, but almost in an instant Harry had been sent flying. Chris had jumped up and kneed him right in the stomach. Harry smashed into a tree, causing leaves to fly from the branches. Sampson watched in shock, and wasn't prepared for the whisper behind him: "Peek-a-boo~" He spun around and saw flaming red hair before his skull hit the ground and a sharp pain struck his body.

Maggie slammed her six-inch stiletto heel into Sampson's side and dug in, causing him to grimace sharply. He could only utter a groan of delirious pain. The world was spinning. "Take that as a warning, you two pieces of shit." She sniffed. "Humph. Men."

Harry lifted his bow and tried to aim, but he seemed disorientated too. Maggie kicked up Sampson, ripping her tight skirt as she did so, and letting the arrow slice through his body. He let out a low cry as it pierced his skin, right below his heart.

"Too bad. You missed his heart." Maggie inspected his wound. "Not quite a bullseye, but close. Plus you shot your best friend, so I'll give you a couple points for that; at least—" Another arrow flew by her head and she spun around. "God fucking dammit, cease your annoying-ass fire already! Chris!" she yelled.

"I'm on it." Chris ripped the bow from Harry's hands and knocked the man down.

Maggie dragged Sampson toward Harry, not caring as her prey's head knocked against stones and stones in the gravel field. She threw him onto the grassy field where Harry was. The rocks had scraped his skin to the point of bleeding. Sampson could only feel a throbbing pain in his skull as Maggie talked, her voice almost drowned out by the ringing pain.

"Look, Harry. I admire you for your attempt, but did you really think you could take us? We're rejuvenated after so long asleep. And you? You're a fat, middle-aged Tweedle Dum who never had our talent in battle to begin with," she was cooing.

Harry responded by spitting blood at her cheek, causing her to freeze up, eyes blazing with pure anger. Then she slapped him clear across the face.

After a few moments of painful, aching silence, Sampson watched blearily as Maggie turned to Chris. "We need to clean this up."

"I'm on it." Chris picked up the body of the man from earlier. "Do something about these two."

She turned back to them and smiled wickedly. "Sorry it has to be this way, boys. But war's war." She picked up Harry's bow and arrows, spinning the sharp-ended weapons around in her hand. Then she aimed to plunge them straight into their hearts. Sampson tried to brace himself, terrified and still only half-conscious. Before she could do anything, however, another arrow came whizzing by and knocked her arrows from her hands. "Ow!" she yelped, shaking her wrist wildly. Her head shot upwards. Her lips were curled back and her eyes were narrowed—but now they widened.

That was because the man standing before her was wearing a dark-green cloak, hood pulled up to hide his face. Still, a breeze blew by and it managed to reveal part of the man's face: he had dark-brown hair and chocolate-brown eyes that looked dark and violent despite the warm colour.

...He was smiling.

"Is that—?" whispered Sampson as he flitted between the world of reality and dream. "No, that's impossible..."

The last thing he saw was Maggie getting kicked clear across the field.

Then everything faded to black.


When he came to, the world was silent and he wasn't in the same place as before. He was lying down in a grassy field, and trees were above him. Blinking hard against the sunlight, he glanced to the side and saw Harry lying beside him, eyes closed.

Sampson tried to stand up but groaned in pain and fell back down. He grabbed his side and squeezed his eyes shut. "Ow..."

"Ah, so you're awake."

Starting, he opened his eyes and they widened. The man from before in the dark-green cloak was crouched right in front of him, his face inches from Sampson's own.

The man grabbed him by the shoulder. "Sorry," he said huskily. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Sampson took a deep, shaky breath. "No, I-I'm fine. Ah-hem." He glanced down at his chest. His shirt was gone, and a blanket was thrown around his shoulders. Bandages were wrapped around his chest, where he'd been shot. The bandages were already bloodied.

"Sorry I had to remove your shirt." The man cleared his throat. "You were...bleeding rather heavily."

"No, it's...it's fine. Thank you. I appreciate the gesture. Sorry for the trouble."

He nodded. "It's fine."

"What happened to Maggie and Chris?" he asked, ignoring the throbbing pain that entered his skull as soon as he thought of the two. He shuddered.

"I took care of them." His voice was flat and gave away nothing.

"Well, uh...I appreciate it." He rubbed his side. "I just hope you didn't kill them."

The man made a sound that sounded like a chuckle-snort, but didn't reply.

Sampson blinked, hoping to God that he hadn't. He sighed. "This war is getting ridiculous. The last thing we need is any more death of people important to Danes."

"Oh, it'll get even more exciting soon," the man whispered under his breath.

"Hmm?" Sampson blinked. "What?"

"Nothing." He nodded at Harry. "I see that your friend was rather reckless today. He seems restless."

"I just don't understand it. Ever since Fillip was shot, he's become more and more aggressive. He got employed by someone and now he's become this crazy, violence-seeking soldier," he muttered with a sigh.

"I can understand why though. This war is reaching a climax and no one quite knows how yet," the man replied.

"Like what?" Sampson turned back to him, feeling panic flare within him. "Is Danes planning something large?"

"All I'm saying is that it's highly likely that the war will climb towards something large soon." The man sat down and crossed his legs, tilting his head to the side. "Don't you think so?"

"Umm...I guess so, though it's hard to tell when, it seems." Sampson looked down at his feet. "But what do you think will happen?"

"Hmm...I can't say." This time his voice sounded a little amused, or it might've been from Sampson's imagination.

Sampson blinked. "I just wish none of this ever had to happen. I can't quite understand it. How could Damon ever have gotten so jealous that he lost his sanity?"

Now the man was silent.

Sampson looked up. "Sorry, uhh—"

"No, it's fine." He smiled somewhat. "It's not like I knew Damon at all."

Sampson furrowed his brow. "...Uh, riiiight." He paused, unable to stop himself from wondering.

"I'm sure he had to deal with a lot of heartbreak. With enough of that, one could be driven to insanity."

"It's sad that such a good man had to become a monster."

"Yes... Damon was quite the good man, wasn't he?"

Sampson glanced down at his feet. "I miss the days when none of this ever happened."

"Do you feel like Damon ruined your relationships with others?"

He hesitated. "No... I don't blame him for that. But this entire war—"

"Perhaps he is innocent."

"Perhaps not. It's hard to believe that he was, considering the fact that no one else is a possible suspect," Sampson murmured.

"...Hmm. That sounds reasonable." He tilted his head to the side. "And yet, you continue to fight for him."

Sampson shook his head. "Not quite for him. We're fighting against Danes' men to avoid being wrongfully punished for a crime that we didn't commit."

"Ahh, I see." The man paused. "If not your relationships, do you feel like Damon ruined the treaty we had years ago?"

"...Yes," Sampson admitted. "I actually miss those days. Believe it or not, I had friends that are now fighting in Danes' army. I wish we didn't have to fight. We're battling against each other and we can't be friends anymore. So it's like we never even knew each other. It's depressing."

"Perhaps it's for the best. We've never really gotten along."

"But we managed. It wasn't a small thing that made the treaty fall apart. It was a murder. That's just not right. The treaty was going so well. I'm just fighting now because even though murder isn't right, blaming it on everyone associated with the accused isn't right either."

"You have a point. You are a smart man, Sampson." His companion smiled. "You've always been a smart man."

He looked up in surprise. "Ah, thank you."

After a few moments of silence, the man asked, "Are you alright? Does your wound still hurt?"

He blinked in confusion before remembering that he had a wound. "Ah, no... I actually feel much better. Thank you. I really appreciate the help."

"You're quite welcome." He smiled again. "Take it easy for awhile."

"I wish I could," Sampson sighed. He glanced to the side as Harry began stirring, letting out a low groan.

The man glanced at Harry too before getting up. "Well, I suppose it's time for me to go. I have some work to get to."

Sampson hesitated, before he said, "Damon...?"

The man paused.

"Are you... Are you really not Damon?"

The man stopped and turned his head slightly. He was quiet for awhile, but then he just smiled.

And then he disappeared.


Seething with fury, Maggie smashed her fist into the wall and let out a loud screech. "I can't believe this! I can't fucking believe this!" She rubbed her face angrily, which was now bruised. "That fucking battle should've been ours!"

Chris stood beside her, looking over his own bruises and scratches in a calm manner. "It's unfortunate," he agreed darkly.

"I'm going to kill somebody!" Maggie yelled, stomping her foot down into the ground. "I ruined my $40 skirt just to be defeated!? This is utter bullshit!"

"Maggie, darling, calm down. It's only one defeat."

"'Only one—'!? Chris, you know who that man was! We need to get stronger or we'll never beat him! Don't you care?"

"Of course I care, dear. Can't you see that I'm completely engulfed with rage?" he asked flatly, seeming emotionless.

She tapped her foot against the floor harshly, arms folded. "Well, it doesn't seem like it."

Chris sighed. "Maggie, your wounds. You're still bleeding."

"I don't need to be treated!" she snapped, spinning around to stomp away. "Ughhhh you think you know everything sometimes!" Then she slammed the door behind him. The slam was so harsh that a painting on the wall rattled and fell to the ground. The glass shattered but the frame was okay.

Chris sighed.

Raymond opened the door from a different room. "May I come in?" he asked.

"Do what you'd like," Chris responded.

Raymond stepped inside, gazing at the door where Maggie had left from. "She seemed awfully mad back there."

"She'll get over it."

He closed the door behind him. "Would you like me to take a look at your wounds?" he asked uncertainly.

Chris's head shot upwards, his face finally showing an emotion besides cold, hard nothingness. He recovered quickly. "No thank you. I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Because I'm pretty good at healing."

"And yet you can't even help my son."

Raymond winced. "I'm sorry; I just wanted to help—"

"No, I'm sorry."

"What?" He looked up in surprise.

Chris seemed genuinely apologetic, albeit in a distant, business-like manner. "I apologize for my suspicious behaviour earlier today. You have to understand that I just want what's best for my children, and there's been such an increase in danger that I'm not fast to trust anyone. But Christie seems to trust you and you do seem genuinely nice, so I'm sorry I've been so...cold."

Raymond had a hard time hiding his surprise. "No, uh...it's okay."

Chris nodded curtly, before holding out his arm. "Now, please... Will you take a look at my arm? It's bothering me quite a bit."

"Ah! Of course." Hurrying to the man's side, Raymond gingerly took the arm and looked it over. "Nothing too serious, but it seems like whoever attacked you felt like playing around. The scratches aren't deep, but there's a lot of them and you're bleeding rapidly. I'll have to clean and then dress the wounds. Give me a moment to find the supplies."

Chris said nothing, just watching as the man looked through drawers. "You wouldn't believe how messy it was when I got here," Raymond began saying, "the war had thrown everything into chaos and despite the increase in need for medical attention, nurses and doctors were off doing battle and it was busier than ever. No one had time for cleaning up. In fact, it became rather unsanitary." He paused to exclaim, "Ah! Here it is." Then he turned around and began cleaning the wound.

It stung, but Chris said nothing. Raymond continued talking to fill the gap: "When I got here, I had to organize the entire place just to know what's what and where everything is. Then I got to tending to you and Maggie. You two weren't easy patients, I'll tell you that. It was hard making sure your vitals were still going strong and keep you two taken care of. I was so relieved when you two awoke. I had hoped I'd finally proven my worth, but then...you know what happened."

Chris watched Raymond as the man began dressing the wounds and kept speaking: "Michael became such a difficult case, and all I wanted was to prove myself, but that didn't really seem to work out. He's still unconscious, and you guys don't trust me. Danes and the others now doubt me too, but—oh, oops. Sorry. I didn't mean it to sound like that. I'm not blaming you or Maggie or anything. I'm just stating what I feel, and well...I never meant to say so much. Argh, my apologies." Raymond stopped talking and finished the process, his face turning red. "I didn't mean to insult you two."

"No, it's fine. I understand. We did give you a hard time." Chris flexed his arm, his voice flat. "Thank you. It feels much better now."

Raymond smiled. "Really? That's awesome! I'm glad to hear that. Now rest easy, okay?" Then he paused. "And, uhh..."

"Yes?" Chris tuned to him expectantly, wondering what else the man wanted to say.

"While I'm kind of terrified of her, will you please tell your wife to come see me as well? I mean no harm; I just want to take care of her wounds before they become infected," he said quickly.

"...I know. I'll go find her now." Chris smiled slightly in amusement.

"Thank you." Raymond looked relieved.

"You may be right in the fact that she'll be more likely to listen to me than you, but Maggie really isn't a scary woman. She's rather emotion-driven, but she's a good person."

"I know, I just—"

"Yes. I understand. Alright; I'll go fetch her for you." As he was leaving, Chris paused in the door and glanced back. "And Raymond?"

"Yes?" He looked up in surprise.

"Thank you. For everything you've done."

Raymond's surprise didn't fade until the door closed behind Chris, where he managed to utter, "A-Ah! You're welcome and thank you!" Chris smiled somewhat on the other side, having heard the words.

He turned and walked towards the door Damon had originally come in from, going out to look for his wife. He found her soon enough, sulking on an armchair in the study. She had her legs crossed and was concentrating on her legs, eyes dark and fingers rubbing her chin. "Maggie," he stated calmly.

"Hmm." Her eyes darted toward him but she didn't really acknowledge him.

"...I know you're pissed off," he said, sitting down on the arm of the chair. She didn't answer, so he kept going: "How angry are you?"

"From a scale to 10?" She slammed her hand down on the other arm of the chair they were sharing. "Probably a 7.5 as of right now," she muttered.

"Hmm." He reached out and stroked her frizzy red hair, which she stiffened at but didn't really react to; she didn't slap his hand away, at least, so he took that as a sign to keep going. "Well, I'm sorry, Maggie. But even with that apology, you're probably not going to like what I have to say next."

"What is it?" She blinked up at him, eyes narrowed in curiosity. A challenging spark danced within them, as if she were trying to say "I'll stay calm the entire time; you'll see".

They both knew this was not the truth.

Chris stayed calm himself as he replied, "Perhaps you should let Raymond take a look at you, darling."

First there was silence.

Then the entire study was filled with a loud scream of "WHAT!?"

Maggie sat there, both fists slammed onto the armchair arms, seething with gritted teeth and shrunken pupils.

"All I'm saying, is that in order for us to face Damon, we need to be in our best shape. And Danes' current staff of nurses clearly can't hold a candle to Raymond's healing ability," he explained patiently.

"What? The man who can't even save my son?" she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"He is doing better than any of the other nurses are."

"That may be the case, but I would rather die than let that monster touch me."

"Really, Maggie? Do you really mean that?" He leaned forward and tipped her chin up with his hand. "Would you really rather die before defeating Damon just because Raymond wants to heal you?" She hesitated, so he added, "Trust me, my dear. This is for the best."

When she still didn't answer, he murmured softly, "What would I do if I lose you too?"

Her lips twitched and Maggie broke away from his hold, trying to suppress a giggle. "Oh, Chris." She smiled slightly up at him. "Alright, so I was exaggerating. I'll go, but only because you recommended it."

"That's all I'm asking for," he answered, pulling her close to him again. They were so close that she could feel his warm, cool-scented breath against her cheek. "Maggie..."

"Yes, Chris...?"

"I love you," he breathed.

Then the two enmeshed silhouettes kissed.

Raymond stood in the doorway of the infirmary upstairs, watching as the two silhouettes became one.

Soon Maggie was seated in the infirmary, getting her wounds cleaned and dressed. She flexed her arm as soon as Raymond was finished. "Well, it's not hurting as much anymore, at least." Then she quickly added, "It's not healed either, though. It's all numb. Thanks for your...generous attempt though."

Raymond smiled. "You're welcome."

Chris stood over her, glancing down at her bandages. "If you're feeling better, let's go check on Michael then."

"Sure." She sighed and flexed her arm one last time before hopping off of the infirmary table. She pointed a finger at Raymond. "You," she called.

"Me?" he echoed.

"Yes, you," she continued, "come with us. You better see what else you can do to help our son." She snorted. "It's the least you can do."

"Of course." He bowed his head. Let me just gather my supplies."

Chris helped Raymond carry some of the heavier stuff when his arms got too full with the small things. Then the trio traversed the hallways, making their way toward Michael's room. The door loomed above them, silent and foreboding.

Maggie opened it and held it open, allowing the two men to enter. Michael lay in his bed, eyes closed. He was illuminated by pale light from the outside world.

"My poor baby," Maggie cooed, walking toward her son and reaching out to stroke his hair. Chris set down the things he was carrying and followed. She looked up at her husband. "He looks so much like you, dear. I just want to see him open his eyes again."

"I know," he murmured, placing his hand on her shoulder.

Raymond awkwardly began setting up supplies as the parents had a heartfelt moment, watching over their son. When he was ready, he pulled up beside them and murmured an "excuse me". As they moved over, he hooked Michael up to a machine and began looking at the results that appeared.

"Well?" Maggie demanded, a streak of impatience in her voice.

"His heartbeat is still steady, but there's little change in everything else," Raymond explained, trying to tell the truth without getting slapped across the face.

Maggie looked disappointedly angry for a second, but restrained herself from smacking Raymond. "Right," she said, struggling to keep her voice even, "it's not your fault." Chris said nothing, instead rubbing his wife's shoulder in silent comfort.

Michael let out a low moan, and Raymond glanced back at him. "The good news is—as you may have noticed—he has in fact become more responsive. So it's more likely than before for him to wake up soon—but, umm"—here he paused as he noticed Maggie's brightening eyes—"try not to get your hopes up too much."

Chris turned his head away. "He better wake up soon. I have no patience for a son that wishes to keep his family waiting in painful suspense." Maggie said nothing in an unusual sign of silence as she brushed her son's blond hair out of his closed eyes.

Raymond watched with an apologetic gaze before looking away. He himself missed that feeling of family.

Watching them together hurt.


Buttercup was relieved that school was over. After the fiasco with Braker and Deth Jackson Jr, school had been the last thing on her mind.

Flying out of her classroom, she joined Butch at the end of the hallway. "Thank God school's over," she yawned, stretching. "I'm going to sleep till dawn."

"Yeah," he agreed, smirking. "But being sleepy is your own fault."

She rolled her eyes. "I know, I know; stop rubbing it—"

BOOM.

The entire building shook briefly as some sort of explosion sounded outside, interrupting Buttercup. The two greens exchanged bewildered looks before throwing open the doors and blasting outside. They tracked the noise to the school field, near the parking lot. Smoke covered the field, making it hard to breathe and even harder to see.

Buttercup squinted into the cloud of smoke. "I think I see a body!" she called, before hacking into her arm.

"On it!" A dark-green streak became visible in the gray cloud as Butch flew forward. Then there was nothing as his streak vanished.

"Butch!" Buttercup shouted, trying not to cough.

"Over here!"

Buttercup followed the noise, dashing onto the field. There was a small patch of visibility at the centre, causing her to look around. She managed to spy Butch not too far away. She felt relieved and stepped forward to call, "Butch—!" but she was cut short once again by a hysterical woman.

"You don't know anything! Get out of here, boy, before I snap your neck! I need to find Chris."

"Jesus Christ, Maggie, calm down! What the fuck happened here?" Butch demanded.

"You don't need to know."

"Why not? Let's forget our differences just this once, alright? I know your Danes' sister-in-law, but—"

"YOU DON'T DESERVE TO KNOW BECAUSE THIS WAS DONE BY SOMEONE YOU FOOLS STILL SUPPORT!"

Butch's eyes widened but he managed to recover, stepping forward to grab the "Maggie" lady by her arm. "Alright, I got it. But don't be so unfair; my status of support isn't as simple as that." He looked sad briefly before he continued, "Here, let me help you up."

"GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU DIRTY WOLF!" Maggie screeched, and suddenly Butch was sent flying.

Buttercup managed to jump back before Butch crashed into her, backing into the smoke and being shielded from Maggie's line of vision.

"Fuck you," she spat, before spinning around and storming off.

Buttercup watched her go with wide eyes and a pounding heart. She was breathing heavily now, and she whirled around to fly after Butch's body. She managed to spy him rolling across the field not far from her, and quickly caught up. She caught him and pulled him upwards. "Butch," she gasped. "Butch!"

He didn't respond.

Feeling desperate and worried, Buttercup looked around for a clearing where there was no smoke. The smoke was disappearing, but it still covered most of the field. She jumped into the air, still carrying his body, ready to fly off. But before she could do that, she heard a roar.

She could spy two silhouettes battling, becoming one silhouette whenever they threw a punch or kick. Finally, one of them was thrown to the ground and the smoke cleared to reveal the one standing.

He wore a dark robe, with his hood thrown over his face, but the tussle had caused it to fall. He had scars, dark hair, and even darker eyes. His gaze pierced her and he smiled almost wickedly, before he vanished.

Buttercup's heart was pounding even harder in her chest now. The smoke was gone, and she spotted her sisters and brothers standing on the field, all looking bewildered. Brick saw her first.

"Buttercup!" he shouted, before flying toward her, almost barreling into her. "And Butch," he gasped.

"Who is that?" she breathed, pointing at the blond man lying in the grass as she handed Butch over.

Brick looked down at the man and narrowed his red eyes. "He's no one. No one important." He turned away. "Now come on; there's no time to lose. Let's get Butch back and try to wake him up."

"But—"

"No but's, Buttercup." He shot her a look without turning his head. It was so chilling she had to shiver. "Let's go."

Buttercup glanced back one last time, but was surprised to see that the man had disappeared.

When she caught up with the red Ruff, he'd laid Butch down at the other end of the field and was checking on his brother. "Come on... Come on, Butch; wake up." He slapped the green Ruff's cheek lightly.

"Is he okay?" Buttercup joined him, eyes wide.

"He's fine. He's unconscious, but nothing too bad. He should be awake soon enough; just got a nasty blow to the head."

She bent down and slapped his face too, a little rougher than Brick had. "BUTCH, you idiot!" she shouted as her friends and family gathered around her. "WAKE UP!"

Finally, he began to stir, batting his eyes and wincing as the sunlight blinded him. "Ugh," he moaned, sitting up and rubbing his sore, throbbing head, eyes closed. "What happened?"

Buttercup didn't answer. She couldn't answer. Her face was red, and her throat caught. This was because she'd basically been sitting on top of him and now that he was sitting up, his face was very, very close to hers.

Butch's eyes widened. "B-Buttercup...?" he stammered.

"I-It's not what you think!" she blurted out, jumping up and back from him.

"I don't know what to think," he managed to say, looking around at the crowd. "What's going on?"

"Smoke," Brick said.

Butch gave him a blank look. "What?"

"The smoke," he repeated. "We all saw the smoke and ran out here and then something happened to you that knocked you out."

Realization dawned and the green Ruff's eyes became saucers. "Maggie," he whispered.

Brick stiffened, but Blossom spoke first. "What?" she asked.

"Uh, nothing," he said, struggling to get up.

"But that was something," protested Buttercup. "I saw you and her fighting. Who was she? Who was the blond man?"

"W-Wait; slow down." Butch looked flustered as he tried to stand up. "I just—OW!" He winced and nearly fell back down.

"Butch...!" Buttercup rushed forward to catch him, but Brick was faster. She was left standing in the centre awkwardly, arm out and grabbing his wrist. "Umm... N-Never mind." She quickly let go and stepped back.

"I-I need to rest," he muttered. "I'm a little dizzy."

"But the woman—!"

"Sorry, BC." He groaned. "Let's do this later. I just want to go home."

Buttercup bit the inside of her cheek, ignoring the desire to accuse him of making excuses. She knew that he had in fact taken a nasty blow to the head and probably really did need to rest. "Fine," she mumbled. "But I'm going to ask you questions later."

"I'll be happy to answer them then," he murmured, eyes relieved as he was hefted up by Brick. Braker joined them and Butch placed his other arm around the orange Ruff for support.

"Let's go home," Brick said softly, helping Butch along.

Buttercup watched them go, eyes wide. She still had so many questions, she almost didn't want to let them go, but she understood. She understood his need for rest.

"See you later Butch," she whispered, "and don't forget that you owe me some answers."


"Well, that was a scary ordeal." Boomer sighed and closed his eyes briefly, running his hands through his long, shaggy blond hair. "I was really worried about Butch back there."

"Yeah; you guys have had enough unconscious people to probably last a lifetime," agreed Bubbles, leaning forward with her hands clasped behind her back.

"Hey, Bubbles..."

"Hmm?" She tilted her head to the side.

"Do you feel like getting some crepes? I know a great place nearby."

"Really?" She blushed, surprised. "S-Sure."

"Awesome!" He grinned, and for a second his happiness made her heart beat just a little faster and smile a little brighter. "Let's go right now."

"E-Eh? N-Now?" she stammered, eyes wide.

"Yeah! Now's a great time." He grabbed her wrist and tugged her along, flying into the air. "Let's go!"

"B-Boomer, waaaait!"

Two blue streaks lit up the sky as someone down below watched. They were holding a black umbrella, eyes sad as they stared up at the blue sky and bluer streaks of light.

"Sidney, are you coming?"

The person with the black umbrella turned, meeting eyes with his sister. "Ah; c-coming. Sorry, Sydney. I've just been a little distracted."

She glanced up too and sniffed, narrowing her eyes. "I can tell." She blinked. "I'm surprised you had the guts to face reality and break up with her."

"We... We didn't break up. We just decided to take a break."

"And see other people?"

Sidney opened his mouth, but no words came out. He couldn't deny how close Bubbles and Boomer had gotten once Sidney had severed the ties. Was I really just holding her back? He closed his mouth, wondering.

"Well, in any case, it's good to see you taking things into your own hands for once." Sydney stared at him and her gaze softened briefly. "Feel better soon."

"Huh?" He blinked at her in surprise.

"Come on; let's go home." She turned around and started walking. "Let's make cookies when we get back. Just like old times."

Sidney continued to stare at her in barely contained shock with wide eyes, before smiling softly as his gaze shone. "Thank you, Sydney," he whispered.

She blushed, having caught the words, but she didn't drop her tough act. "Come on! Hurry up already, Siddy."

"A-Ah! C-Coming." He raced after her, still carrying the black umbrella, but he was smiling this time. The two blue streaks had faded in the bluer sky, and his memory of his troubles had faded along with the streaks. He fell into step with his sister and smiled, laughing and chatting with her like they used to.

Just like old times.

Meanwhile, Boomer had taken Bubbles to a small crepe stand nearby, his hand clasped around her wrist the entire time. "Here we are!" he announced, diving in for a landing.

Bubbles let out a squeal as she skidded to a stop beside him, before laughing happily. She almost stumbled, but Boomer managed to catch her just in time, wrapping one arm around her body while the other still gripped her wrist. Her blue eyes were wide as they met his gaze, and she blushed.

"A-Ah; s-sorry," Boomer stuttered breathlessly, letting Bubbles go.

She took a step back, her face still pink as she tried to catch her breath. Then she began giggling.

Surprised, Boomer glanced at her. "What's so funny?" he demanded, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

"Thank you," she breathed.

He blinked. "For what?"

Bubbles smiled. "For everything. Now come on! Let's get those crepes."

Boomer watched her bounce towards the stand, and he couldn't help but smile too. "You're welcome," he whispered. Then he joined her, whipping out $20 before she had a chance to pull anything out. "Two lemon crepes, please!"

As the man took the money and gave him the change, Bubbles sent Boomer a look. "I could've paid for myself! I would've paid for yours too."

"No way; it's the man who needs to treat the lady," Boomer responded, waving his hand, which held the money he'd gotten back as change.

Bubbles rolled her eyes but smiled, feeling light and happy.

The two of them waited as the man behind the stand prepared the crepes and thanked him when they were done. Then they sat down at one of the tables set up just outside the stand, both digging in.

"Delicious~!" sang Bubbles, smiling. It was like she was in taste heaven.

"Right?" her counterpart agreed wholeheartedly, chomping down on his crepe.

"How did you hear about this place?" Bubbles asked, eyes bright and cheery.

He smiled, glad that she was in such a good mood now. He'd missed this side of her. "Brick would take us here whenever the stand appeared. We first discovered it when we were...umm, when we were around the preteen years." He'd been about to say "when we were still with Damon", but he'd managed to cut himself off. "We're regulars here." He turned to the man working the stand. "Isn't that right?" he called.

The man nodded and smiled. "Of course, Boomer."

He turned back to Bubbles. "I come here whenever they're in and I'm around the area... And when I'm sad," he explained.

"Ahh, I see." She smiled and chirped, "Well it's a good thing too! Otherwise I wouldn't know about a place this wonderful."

As they finished their crepes, Boomer dragged her further down the tiled area before reaching the park playground where they'd hung out before. The swings stood there, reminding Bubbles of her conversation with her counterpart from back then. The memory made her blush.*

He didn't seem to notice as he jumped onto a swing, tilting his head back to stare up at the sky as he shielded his eyes with one hand. "It's so sunny today," he commented with a small smile.

"Y-Yeah," she agreed, hopping onto a swing herself in a slower manner.

For awhile they just swung in silence, casting moving shadows on the ground. Finally, Boomer turned to her and said, "Can I ask you something?"

"What is it?" she questioned, turning to look at him. His serious expression startled her.

"I—no, never mind." Boomer turned away.

"What is it? What did you want to say?" When he didn't answer, she added urgently, "Please tell me. I won't judge."

He was silent for a long while. Then he finally looked at her again and whispered, "Can I... Can I kiss you?"

Bubbles stopped swinging as her eyes widened. "I... What?"

"I want to kiss you," he murmured, leaning in closer until their lips were inches apart.

She could feel herself breaking into a cold sweat as she began trembling. "I... Boomer, no... Don't..."

His lips were so close now. Oh, so close.

"No!"

Boomer was sent swinging back by a forceful shove, one that caused the swings' chains to rattle. He stared down at the ground for a long time as he tried to steady himself.

"Boomer, I-I'm sorry..." Bubbles stammered, her eyes wide.

"No, I'm sorry," he finally stated, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He faltered, trying to sit up straighter. "I shouldn't have done that. I can't do that."

Bubbles wasn't sure what he meant by his words, but they stung—even though she'd been the one to shove him away.

"Bubbles... Are you—Are you still upset about what happened to you and Sidney?"

She started; she hadn't been expecting that question. "I..." She tried to read his expression, but her counterpart's face was hidden by shadows from the light of the sun. His tone was unreadable. "Well, I..." She turned away, squeezing her eyes shut and biting her lip. "...Yes."

"Why?" he whispered.

"I...I miss him. I still don't know if I'm over him yet." Bubbles could feel the tears coming, and she began to swing a little harder. She'd only been lightly swinging at first, but now she was rocking back and forth heavily, whilst swinging her legs. "Can we talk about something else? P-Please? Boomer..."

"But I—"

"I can't talk about him right now, okay!" she cried, tears beginning to pool from her eyes. "I just can't!"

"Bubbles..."

The sun disappeared behind some clouds and she finally saw his face. His brow was furrowed, and his eyes were wide with what appeared to be pity. Seeing him looking at her like that—not smiling his usual bright smile—tore at her heart. She couldn't stand the look of pity in his gaze. "Just... Just leave me alone!" She stopped swinging to jump off and begin running.

"Bubbles, no! Wait, I—" He jumped up with his hand out, but she was already gone. She'd only left behind a blue streak. "—I'm sorry," he finished pitifully, his hand dropping.

Not far away, Sidney was smiling and chatting with his sister, being the most relaxed he'd been in ages. She seemed to be having a good time too, and they were carrying many newly bought baking supplies, along with crepes. He held his black umbrella overhead, shielding himself from the sun.

"This is delicious!" he remarked, biting down happily. His heart felt just as happy.

"Yeah, the guy running the stand really knows how to make these things," Sydney agreed, chewing thoughtfully.

Sidney smiled.

"Wh-What?" his sister demanded, flushing as she noticed his smile.

"It's so nice to see you smiling again. I missed that, y'know. You haven't been smiling a lot lately."

"Yeah, well... There hasn't been much to smile about." Sydney looked away.

Sidney's own smile fell. His sister had a point. He himself remembered his own sadness. "...Let's... Let's not think about that right now. We're here to enjoy ourselves, right?"

She turned just slightly so that she could stare at him in surprise.

He forced himself to smile again. "Let's keep talking. I-I missed talking to you too, y'know."

"I—" Her eyes widened then. "Siddy, watch out!"

The use of his pet name set him off, and he turned just in time to see baby-blue streak of light coming straight toward him. He barely had time to react, let alone assess the situation, before it barrelled into him and knocked him over. His umbrella fell a bit away from him. When the dust cleared and he managed to open his eyes, he could see that someone was on top of them... The girl who'd crashed into him lifted her head from his chest and opened her eyes. His own eyes widened at the sight of blond pigtails and... Oh no. He swallowed hard. Baby-blue eyes.

They belonged to Bubbles Utonium.

But... Now he paused. Is she...crying? Why...?

Tears streamed down her face, and she looked so sad that it just broke his heart. It was the exact opposite of the expression she'd had when she'd first left school with Boomer. Boomer... Did Boomer do something to her? Sidney's eyes widened even more and he reached out to touch her cheek.

She flinched.

He drew his hand back slightly, furrowing his brow. "Bubbles..."

"Don't... Don't look at me like that..." she whispered. Tears splattered from her cheeks onto his chest. She gripped his shirt. "Don't...!"

"Bubbles!" he gasped as she jumped up. She tried to fly away but he managed to grab her wrist. "Bubbles, just tell me what's wrong. I'll—"

"Leave me alone!" she screamed, slapping him away.

Sidney stumbled back, eyes wide as he reached for his stinging cheek.

She stared at him for a long time, breathing heavily with narrowed and tearful eyes, before she blinked in shock and seemed to come to her senses. She turned to stare at her hand, before she began quivering and more tears spilled down her cheeks. "No, I... I never wanted..." She trailed off and shook her head wildly, squeezing her eyes shut.

And then she flew away.

"Bubbles!" he shouted. "Wait! Come back!"

She didn't answer him. That blue streak of hers was all that replied—that blue streak of hers that was the same colour as her tears.

Sidney watched her go. His heart tightened in his chest. "I forgive you," he whispered.

Sydney clasped her hand onto his shoulder. When he turned to stare at her, startled, she said cautiously, "Let's go home, brother." She gave him a small and weak smile. "Let's make cookies... Just like old times."

Just like old times, huh. He squeezed his hand into a fist near his chest, willing his heart to stop hurting. "Yeah... Yeah, that sounds good. Thank you, Sydney."

Just like old times.

As he walked away, he glanced back one last time, furrowing his brow just as dark storm clouds began to appear overhead. A light rain began drizzling before it began to get heavier, pounding on his black umbrella. Sidney felt his heart clench again.

"Bubbles..."

He didn't even notice that he'd walked past Boomer on the swingset.

And Boomer, soaking and miserable, never noticed Sidney walking past.


"Is he okay?" Blossom asked into the phone in concern.

"He's fine," Brick answered, as rustling sounds sounded. "I'm just making some food for him. How are all of you?"

"Bubbles is out with Boomer," she replied. "They're not back yet."

"Oh yeah, I noticed." He sounded like he was smiling (if one could hear another's smile).

"Right. Boomer's your brother. Of course you noticed." She blushed.

He chuckled, causing her to smile. "You're adorable, Blossie."

"Thanks, Bricky." Blossom leaned back on the kitchen counter and glanced up at the ceiling. "I'm glad they're getting along again though."

"Yeah, me too. Their distance was really worrying me."

"I thought you liked distance between you Ruffs and us Puffs?" she teased.

Brick chuckled. "I never said I wanted it to destroy our relationships. Besides"—he paused—"now that I know what it's like to be in love with a Powerpuff Girl, I wouldn't want us to be separated again." He sounded like he was smiling again.

Blossom blushed. "Aww, don't be so cheesy."

"Sorry, I can't help it," he smirked, "I need a lot of cheese if I want to make some good lasagna."

"Oh my God, Brick! I can't believe you said that." She tried to stifle her giggles. "That was a lame pun."

"At least I made you laugh."

"Only because it was so bad." She smiled.

He was silent for a little while. Then: "Hey, Blossom..."

"What's up?" she asked, having focused her attention on cutting some cucumber slices.

"Is it weird that I can hear you smiling?"

She froze. Then she smiled. "Can you hear that?" she whispered.

"Hear what?"

"Listen," she murmured.

He listened. Then he did a half-chuckle in disbelief. "I swear to God I can hear you smiling. Is that weird?"

Her smile spread. "Brick, no... Not at all. I-I can hear you smiling too."

This revelation caused him to fall quiet again, but then Brick spoke up. "This is so cheesy."

Blossom burst out laughing. "The more cheese for that lasagna of yours, the better—am I right?"

"Of course you're right." She was sure he was grinning. She turned to the window, just noticing the rain that slid down the glass. "Wasn't it sunny just a few moments ago?" she said, surprised.

"It's supposed to rain today," Brick replied. "It's going to get heavier."

She was about to respond before her phone vibrated, signalling that someone had just texted her. "Ah, someone just texted me," she reported.

"Alright, let me hang up then," he responded.

"There's really no need," she said, having a feeling that she'd miss him.

Brick sounded like he was smiling again. "Why? Because you'd miss me?"

"N-No...! I mean, yes, but...not in the e-embarrassing way you're thinking..."

Brick chuckled. "Okay, okay. But maybe it's important. What if it's from Bubbles? She might want a lift or something because of the rain."

Blossom paused, making a face before sighing. "Fine, I guess you're right. Well, I suppose I'll see you later then, Brick."

"Bye, Blossom." He paused. "I love you."

She smiled. "I love you too."

"I can hear you smiling!" he claimed triumphantly.

Her smile grew in amusement. "And I can hear you!" she teased back.

Brick laughed. "Alright, alright; see ya."

"Bye." Then the two of them hung up.

Buttercup was standing nearby, making a face. "Bleh, gross," she gagged. "'I can hear you smiling'? Seriously? That's so cheesy."

"Hey." Blossom winked. "I was just helping him prepare his lasagna."

It took Buttercup a moment to get the joke. When she did, she let out a large shout: "OH MY GOD, BLOSSOM! That was so bad! I can't believe you made that joke! And can you not say it like that? You made it sound so sexual!"

She laughed, blushing a little at the mention of "sexual", but mostly finding it funny how her sister reacted to the bad pun.

Buttercup folded her arms and made a face. "Why'd you two hang up, anyway? With the way you were acting all lovey-dovey with one another, I would've thought you'd never be able to hang up on one another."

Blossom stopped laughing as she remembered why. "Oh yeah! I almost forgot." She pulled out her phone. "Someone texted me, so Brick decided to let me go in case it was important." She sighed exaggeratedly in mock happiness and gratitude. "He's sucha gentleman," she said, using an exaggerated heavy tone of awe and admiration.

"Ew, gross. Keep your love bugs away from me," Buttercup stated, pinching her nose as if something pungent had entered the room. She began backing away.

Blossom rolled her eyes at her sister's reaction, but her eyes twinkled with amusement all the same.

Just then, the door opened and Bubbles appeared.

"Ah, Bubbles! You're back! I was wondering if you'd need a lift," Blossom exclaimed, remembering the text she'd been meaning to look at.

Her blond sister just turned to stare at her in acknowledgement. She was soaking wet. When she spoke, her voice sounded hoarse. "I'm good."

Blossom blinked, feeling her smile wither slightly in concern. "Are you feeling okay?" she questioned.

"I'm fine. Just tired." The blue Puff flew up the stairs.

"Bubbles, wait! Do you need anything? I'll make you some hot chocolate."

"That'd be lovely," Bubbles said, smiling. But it seemed forced; unlike her usual smiles.

"Are you sure? Because you seem sad—" Blossom tried to say.

Now Bubbles' smile vanished. "I'm fine. If anyone needs me, I'll be in my room." She slammed the door shut.

Blossom and Buttercup exchanged concerned glances, but said nothing. Blossom began making the hot chocolate, wondering about her sister's strange behaviour. "Hey, Buttercup...?" she said.

"Yeah?" the green Puff responded.

"Was it just me, or did Bubbles seem kind of sad?"

For awhile Buttercup didn't say anything. Blossom turned to look at her, and she finally answered with, "It's not just you. But I don't think we should say anything. Just leave her alone for now."

"Yeah..." Blossom glanced down at the boiling drink. "But I'm worried, y'know? It might just be from the rain, but she looked like she'd been crying."

Again there was no reply. When she glanced at her black-haired sister, Buttercup only shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, an unsure expression on her face. Blossom then focused on preparing the hot chocolate and said nothing more on the matter. After she'd dropped it off at Bubbles' room (by leaving it in front of the door because Bubbles wouldn't answer her knocking), she'd gotten a phone call from Brick.

He was concerned, asking about Bubbles' behaviour because Boomer had returned home acting all sluggish and unresponsive. Blossom confirmed that Bubbles was acting the same way. The two chatted for awhile about their siblings' behaviour, before coming up with a plan to cheer them up the next day.

With that idea in mind, Blossom and Brick hung up, feeling satisfied.

Buttercup was still with her in the kitchen. "Hey, Bloss... Did you ever check on that text you got?"

She started. "Oh yeah! I completely forgot. Give me a second." She turned on her phone with the press of a button and gazed at the notification that appeared on the screen.

And then her eyes widened.

"What...?" she said blankly, her mind finding itself incapable of processing the information with which her phone screen presented her. But her phone did not falter. It was a machine that didn't question things like a brain did. It didn't malfunction in the same ways. It was a phone, and it was just doing its job by presenting her with the notification. It offered no explanation, but it shouldn't have had to. "This can't be..."

But it was. The notification was as clear as day on her screen, glaring back at her.

"What? What can't be?" Buttercup asked, flitting towards her sister, leaning a small green streak behind.

Blossom blinked, the light from her lockscreen reflected in her eyes. Then the phone turned off again, as if to say that she'd had long enough to try and process the text and didn't need any more time. She knew it had simply turned off because she hadn't done anything on the phone yet, but it still felt so blunt.

"What's the matter?" Buttercup asked again. Blossom turned the phone on again and tilted it so that her curious sister could see the text. Buttercup read it out loud: "'Hey, Blossie. Did you miss me? Sorry I've been away. I've been travelling and recovering from being sick.'"

"There's more," Blossom whispered. She gestured at the name above the text.

Buttercup followed her sister's gaze and her eyes widened. "Holy shit..." she managed to mutter. Blossom didn't even admonish her for the swearing, because she understood her sister's surprise.

The text was from Vincent.


*(A/N: Reference to chapter 53!)

**(A/N: Reference to chapter 46!)

ME: Ooh, lots of tension and romance this chapter!

BRICK: MMPH!

ME: Oh yeah; sorry. *lets go of mouth*

BRICK: *gasps for air* Goddammit, Kuku!

ME: So uh, since the first Author's Note was so long, I'm keeping this one short and sweet! So yeah, please leave a review and don't forget to mention whether or not Smoke & Mirrors sounds like a good idea!

BRICK: I swear to God I'm going to fucking—

ME: *hastily, with nervous laughter* Hehehe BYE, EVERYONE!

BRICK: GET BACK HERE, KUKU!