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She wasn't sure what colour her ceiling was. It had always been an unremarkable beige. But tonight it flickered from beige to blue to black.

She lay still, just staring up. She didn't have any other option as her limbs were too heavy to lift. From the ceiling emerged a body, every appendage as dark as the hue it had materialised from, but gradually, the colours began to change.

It was male. It had green eyes and black hair. It was Butch Jojo.

He dropped down to her bed and crouched over her. When she couldn't find the strength to shove him away, she knew it was a dream.

He smirked and then leant closer. With their lips almost touching, Buttercup tore her hands free of their invisible restraints and pushed Butch away. But when she looked again, his crown of black hair had vanished and his green eyes were no longer exploring her figure.

Now Mitch was crouching over her— and his expression revealed more than she wanted to see.

Buttercup's eyes snapped open. She sucked in a breath and stared at the very solid, very plain ceiling above her. Buttercup exhaled and peeled off her duvet. "…As if," she muttered.

Her body was throbbing; it felt like the pain had spread and amplified during her nap. Buttercup glanced at her phone on the bedside table. It was early evening- that explained the new flashes of pain. She'd slept the entire day away.

She quickly skimmed through her messages. Mitch had sent several texts, all asking about her battle with Ace. She placed her phone down. There wasn't much to tell, or rather, there wasn't much she wanted to tell.

The bottom line would be that she'd lost.

Buttercup trudged towards her door, hoping for an empty house and a full kitchen. She pulled the handle and her steps faltered; Mitch was sitting crossed legged against the banister. "How long have you been outside my door?"

He examined her, it was a quick once over, but in those seconds of silence Buttercup raised her guard. She knew what he was seeing. She knew he wanted to comment.

"You didn't answer my texts," was all he said before rummaging through a carrier bag at his side. He tossed her a sandwich. "Bubbles said you hadn't left your room all day."

"Uh, yeah. I didn't feel like talking," she sank to the floor opposite him. "Thanks," she said, raising her sandwich. Buttercup ripped the package open and took a bite; tuna and sweetcorn. She was ninety per cent sure this thing wasn't originally meant for her.

When she glanced at Mitch, he was rolling a bottle of water under his hand. "So what happened?"

"What? Bubbles didn't tell you that too?"

"It looks worse than she described." His focus seemed to shift lower, towards her neck. He leant forward to get a better look and lifted her chin with his finger. "Whoa…did you really see a doctor?"

She could feel his breath on her skin, it was warm, and it tickled, just like in her dream when he'd watched her with all that… emotion. She couldn't get his expression out of her mind. It was weirding her out.

Buttercup jerked out of his grip and knocked her head against the wall. "Crap, Mitch. Give me space!" His touch had never bothered her before. He did it all the time… probably. Buttercup couldn't remember. Had he always been this handsy? "I'm a Powerpuff; injuries come with the territory. That doesn't mean I need you clinging onto me. Just…go and coddle Bubbles or something, will you?"

Mitch rocked back. "I'm only looking out for you."

"Well that's new." She placed her sandwich down; she'd lost her appetite. "This entire week, it's felt like you couldn't get away from me fast enough." Buttercup didn't know why she was bringing this up now, on a day that was already shaping out to be one of her worst.

Mitch leant against the banister. "Can you really blame me? You say whatever you want, whenever you want."

"What's your point?" She'd been that way through sixteen years of friendship.

"You can be insensitive." His voice took on an edge, but his expression remained at 'mildly interested'. "It's something that's been difficult to ignore."

Buttercup could pinpoint the exact moment she'd suddenly become too 'insensitive' for his tastes. "So you and Bubbles talk about me?"

"With the same level of interest we'd use to discuss the weather Buttercup; this has nothing to do with her."

Buttercup scowled; there was an insult in there somewhere.

Mitch ran a hand over his head. "Sorry." He blew out a breath. "You just don't act like you care, is what I'm trying to say. I always need to decipher your words."

"So what you're saying is that you want me to be more open with my feelings? Like Bubbles."

"No, I'm trying –"

"To compare." Buttercup launched to her feet and every muscle condemned the action.

"Do you have some kind of complex?" Mitch was on his feet too. He'd raised an eyebrow, but not his voice. It annoyed her that he was never truly angry- like he was an adult in a child's world. "You're the one comparing yourself Buttercup. First Blossom and now Bubbles. That's why you can't even see your own worth."

"You're preaching," she snapped.

"I am," he nudged her shoulder. "Look, you saved someone – there isn't a more heroic act than that. You kicked ass out there, which makes you better than you were a few days ago. That's all that matters."

Buttercup was at a loss for words.

For a second she hadn't felt the weight of everyone's judgements, she hadn't heard the sound of her own self-deprecation, she hadn't even felt like a failure. Her eyes were fixated on her own development; a journey which had begun with a ganggreen battle, and continued with the encouraging words of Mitch, and…yeah, Bubbles.

For the first time in months, she felt like she could fight. And it occurred to her that even Butch, in some tiny way of course, had helped her regain her confidence.

"So… too much preaching?" Mitch asked into the silence.

Buttercup was tearing up. It'd been so long since she'd felt like she could accomplish even half of her previous achievements. But now it felt possible. She'd saved a life and fought a battle and done her best and beat the odds and she was better than yesterday.

Buttercup flung her arms around Mitch.

"What –?" He stumbled back until he bumped against the banister. He paused for only a second before wrapping his arms around her. Even though they'd never hugged, and probably never would again, he acted like it was completely natural.

And so Buttercup hugged him, even after the moment passed and joy cooled into awkwardness.

Mitch put his arms down. "…You're hanging on because I called you 'insensitive' aren't you?"

She never wanted to become Bubble's clone, but she was willing to think of others before she spoke. "Duh."