Sorry for the wait. Life has been hectic. But I'm still in love with this story and its characters!

Recap: Buttercup went through a lot before arriving at the point where she was confident enough to go back out into the field. In her first mission, she and the girls fought Sedusa but failed to stop her. Blossom was annoyed, but later comes to the conclusion that the girls have grown in strength and have no more use for Butch. Meaning jail time for Jojo. Out of loyalty, or maybe affection, Buttercup convinces Blossom to free him instead. She then goes to deliver the news.

The lab was cool and quiet. Seven weeks ago Butch had arrived with nothing but the clothes on his back. Now he had a mattress, a cardboard box of basic essentials, and in Buttercup's opinion, a tolerable attitude.

But the chances that he'd take any of those when he left, was zero. She was certain that he'd wipe his memory clean of any affiliation with the Powerpuff girls.

Buttercup lowered herself onto the last step. If she wasn't here on business or here to train, she didn't particularly want to step into Butch's personal space. It felt too familiar and gave the impression that they were close. Clearly they weren't. He was leaving after all.

Butch shuffled on his mattress. He'd been rolling around for a while and Buttercup had assumed he was just making a point of ignoring her. But his hair was matted to his head and soft wheezes slipped from his lips, faster with each passing second. He was having a nightmare.

And Buttercup just watched. The guy lying on that bed looked nothing like the Butch Jojo she knew. The confident snarky joker had vanished, and in its place was a boy with trembling lips. It bothered her that Brick had reduced Butch to this state. Blossom's counterpart. Buttercup had seen flashes of cruelty in her sister too, on random days, on the occasional mission – usually towards her. None of it had raised a red flag until she'd heard about Butch's experience. But now she wondered, exactly how cold could Blossom become?

Butch's eyes snapped open. His chest was heaving as he looked around the room, swallowing deep gulps of air. He glanced past the area that Buttercup was sitting, but didn't even pause, then all at once he seemed to gain his bearings.

"Watching me sleep now?" His voice was faint and beads of sweat were balancing on his brow. But if he wanted to act as if nothing was wrong, then Buttercup would do the same. What was the alternative? She'd already done all she could to convince him to face Brick head on.

"I've got news," she replied.

"Yeah?" Butch sat up. "Are you here to cancel our training session? Did I sprain your wrist one time too many? Not my fault you don't tap out."

Buttercup's lips thinned. She tapped out whenever her life was in immediate danger. He was just too oblivious to notice until something snapped the wrong way. But that wasn't her reason for being here. She had to speak; she needed to spit out the words that were, somehow, for some reason, weighing her down. "You can go now. The Puffs don't need you, and we certainly don't want to babysit you anymore."

"Huh?" He wiped the sweat off his forehead.

"I'm saying 'get lost'. Can't you recognise the phrase when you hear it?" She didn't want to repeat herself. "I'm sure it's something you've heard many times."

Butch raised an eyebrow. "What crawled up your ass and died?"

When he was met with silence, he shrugged and sat up, his legs still sprawled towards either edge of the mattress. "Whatever. I think I get it. You're saying that if I pass out right this second, I won't be waking up in a prison cell."

Absolutely not. He was free. No strings attached. "But you won't be waking up in a hospital either," she snapped. The longer this conversation continued, the tighter her muscles clenched. She felt a level of annoyance that she'd only ever experienced around Blossom.

Butch snorted, stood, and stretched. "Looks like I've finally earned a bit of respect around here. As the real hero behind the heroes, its way overdue," he said with a smirk.

Buttercup thought back to Princess' invitation; a whole freaking ball thrown in Butch's honour. If he wanted respect, then saving the richest girl in town was definitely one way to go about it. Though in her opinion, Princess was just kissing ass.

Butch roamed to the sink and splashed water on his face. He took his time, washing behind his ears and drenching his hairline. When he was finally done, Buttercup had already taken a step up the stairs. "Well, have a nice life Jojo."

Butch squinted against the water now dripping into his eyes. "That's my big goodbye? I expected a little more from you, Ballerina."

"Why?" She forced her voice to remain level, uninterested. "We're not even on a first name basis," she said, echoing a phrase Butch had used weeks ago.

"Fair enough." He wiped his face dry with the palm of his hand. "So Buttercup," he said, raising both eyebrows in what could only be interpreted as a challenge, "what happened to your face?"

Right. This was a game to Butch. He'd say her name, finally dump that idiotic nickname, and she'd give an emotional farewell as he skips off into the freaking sunset. Like it was just another competition. "If you want an epic goodbye, then find someone who gives a damn about you – however difficult that may be." The sting of her comment was dulled by her bandage-induced nasal undertone.

"I was joking." A smile played on his lips, void of actual joy. "I wouldn't want you to choke on any kind words. I am a good guy after all."

"You saved one person. One time." It wasn't the point of their argument. But it didn't even matter. Butch clearly didn't give a crap about the point.

He grabbed his cardboard box and packed: a bed sheet, a toothbrush, a pair of shoes, and a white collared shirt that definitely had the Professor's initials sewn into the seams. "Are you trying to say that one life isn't important?" He drifted towards the lab table and eyed a large silver microscope. "Heroes everywhere would be disappointed," he added in a mutter, examining the steel spine.

"You can't take that."

"This is my room." He spun the knobs with a flick of his finger, quickly, incessantly. Until one rolled right off and vanished under the table. "So everything in here must belong to me."

He didn't even have a need for the damn thing. He was just being petty.

Butch grabbed the table and tilted it up, allowing one side to lean against the wall as he bent and searched for the knob.

Buttercup snorted. It wouldn't make a difference. "That belongs to the Professor. It's expensive." Almost as expensive as the lab table Butch was permanently re-modelling in his grip.

It was crafted from osmium, a dense metal that was supposed to be lathered in some type of resin coating to prevent stains. By the time the Professor had realised its faults, he couldn't get a refund and the table was too heavy for him to relocate. Buttercup had offered to move it out when she had powers, but had procrastinated until she'd become physically incapable.

And here was Butch, using his super strength to reach for a reason to irritate her. At times she truly believed that powers were wasted on the powerful.

She turned to head upstairs, grasping for the railing as a twinge buzzed through her ankle. A high disjointed creak resonated when her hand met the wood, similar to a squeaking step or the sound of an unoiled punching bag chain. The creak grew louder and longer until the banister splintered in Buttercup's palm.

She yanked her hand away, eyeing the shattered mess of a railing. "What..?"

A crash sounded behind her and she spun around.

Butch was on his knees, breathing sharp shallow breaths as he gripped his shoulder. A brief glance told her it was dislocated. His expression was creased with either pain or irritation.

Butch spoke through clenched teeth. "So, I take your microscope and you take my super strength? Doesn't seem like a fair trade."