Out

Out-Of-Story Notes / Disclaimer: ... ::copies and pastes from the previous story:: First of all, before any of you lovely people flaaame me, I want to note that Sniper (Yes! Sniper!) gave me permission to write this. Ha! Eat your hearts out, you compulsive flamers! Other than that, I like comments. And reviews. Well, you don't have to, but it'd be nice if you read this story and liked it. Oh, writing this is going slower than ever, that stupid scratch on my glasses is boooothering me. Mm.. that's about it. Oh, and the whole concept of the Powerpuff Universe, so on, belongs to Cartoon Network and Craig McCracken and junk. Yeh. So, on with the show!

just reflections... 2
by Rey

Ms Plutonia, sporting a spotlessly white laboratory getup, and holding a clipboard with a pen attached, peeks into the boys' room. She usually trusted her boys, but sometimes you just don't know. Under the pretense of checking to see if her boys were asleep and not faking it, she entered the room, careful not to wake them. First to the side of Boomer's bed, leaning down to gently press a kiss to his forehead and tuck in his covers, and the same to Butch. By now, Brick had fallen asleep, and Ms Plutonia gave him his goodnight kiss and neatened his blanket. With a little bit of a smile on her rather weathered features, she then exits the room, pausing to gaze back at them and pronounce a goodnight.

As the door closed, Butch shifted in his bed, lapsing into another one of his numerous violent dreams. Brick was now sleeping soundly, his head nuzzled down into his dark red pillow. But once one looked closer at the blonde Rowdyruff with those immense blue eyes, one could tell there was something not quite right. The way he stared towards space in a pitifully apathetic way, the way he pressed his cheek against the small Bubbles doll.

The moment Ms Plutonia had closed the door, his baby-blue lids opened slow and wide to reveal shimmering eyes, in fear, or perhaps loneliness ~ though with this little blonde 'ruff, it was most likely the latter. Earlier, he had heard his brothers talking, but about what he was not sure, for at the time he was still half-sleeping and just hearing rather than listening. Now he regretted it, for since they had both succumbed to sleep he was left talking to himself.

And, as if hit by a flash of sudden realization, Boomer held the Bubbles doll out at arm's length and gazed at it. He knew then, and just then, that he and his brothers were pining away for the girls. Their girls. Perhaps it had taken him an obscene amount of time to realize this; perhaps he shouldn't have spent all that time, all those days, yearning to be by Bubbles' side in his own infatuated way; perhaps he should've gotten on with life with the thought that he would see her again.

Was his little Cheri thinking of him, he wondered, carefully squeezing the little Bubbles likeness closer. Did she wonder about him like he wondered about her? Were her enchantingly delightful giggles already fading from memory? He banished that last thought, though, he could still hear the ringing laughter as if she were in the room with him. Holding him, caressing... Boomer shuddered. Innocent little Bubbles affected him more than she could comprehend.

But that wasn't the only attraction between the two blondes. It was as if there was a telepathic bond between them, a link, an elastic band that could never break, stretched between them, that connected their minds and thoughts. Could she hear him thinking? He tried forming a "loud" thought. But there was, of course, no response.

After a while or two of waiting for a "reply" thought, he dismissed the thought of telepathy impossible and at the very least, silly. Instead, he simply cradled the Bubbles doll closer, repeating her name like a mantra. Boomer liked the way the last syllable rolled off his tongue easily, and the sweet memories it brought back to him.

He remembered their countless days spent with a box of crayons and sheets of paper. They were both partial to drawing, almost as a form of therapy which simply became all the more therapeutical when with each other. Bubbles would draw her and Boomer, or perhaps just Boomer, at the beach, in the park, at school, in a restaurant with her, anything. Boomer himself would draw her and her alone, often picturing her as a fairy-like princess descending from the heavens, or disposing of some Townsville-threatening monster. For their one-week anniversary, he had crudely drawn her a card saying, "Happy one-week anniversary, Cheri. I love you. X X X". He remembered her reaction ~ that oh-so-familiar giggling and a hug for him. "Aww, Boomie!" She'd said. "You're so sweet."

With a sigh, Boomer shook his head. He really was pining away. Was he getting thinner? Hadn't Ms Plutonia commented on how he was slowly, but surely, losing weight? If only he could remember her actual words. Bubbles wasn't bad for him, no, but when they were apart, she ~ or at least her distant memory ~ seemed to be eating at his health.

However, the blonde ruff did not realize he was still repeating his mantra, albeit quietly, but still most annoyingly. Soon, both his brothers were half-awake and glaring at him. Butch was first to break his repetitive 'hymn'.

"That's twice I've been woken up tonight, by you two dorks," Butch growled. Boomer started, as if waking up, and gazed at both the red and the green ruff wide-eyed and vacantly, quite like Patrick the star fish would while trying to form a thought.

"What?" Boomer finally asked, clutching the doll tighter, sort of indignant at having his thoughts interrupted. They were quite satisfying thoughts, too... but he wouldn't delve into that.

"Di'n't you realize you were chantin' somethin' over and over again?" Brick glared also. "Your stupid mantra disrupted a very pleasant dream ~" But he fell silent, realizing he'd said too much. Somewhere to his right, Butch flashed teeth in a grin, quite amused by Brick's "slip of tongue". Boomer just sighed forlornly, returning his gaze to outer space and the fifth dimension.

"What kiiiind of dream?" Butch mocked rudely. "Did it involve you and Blossy-dearest?" He snickered at his own wit, adding, "Doin'... stuff to each other?" Sure, the green ruff was mature in his own ways, but not all of the time. Brick just scowled, and crossed his arms.

"I just suggest we get back to sleep. You bastard."

Butch snickered again, hiding it behind a hand. He knew he'd gotten to Brick. "So, leader-boy gettin' down and dirty, huh? Want something more, eh? Ha ha, I understand how you feel."

Brick just shrugged, maintaining a calm look, though it was quite clear to anyone who knew him well that he was seething inside. "Go back to sleep, dickheads. We haveta get up early tomorrow mornin', in case you forgot.

Brick's words were the last spoken that hour, and soon all three brothers were back in dreamland.

For now.