OJR Presents
Chasing Buttercup Phase the Second
A PPG/RRB fic
Author's note: Ah well, so I've got no morals or willpower. I was determined
to let this stand but I've been manoeuvred by forces unknown into doing a
'sequel' of sorts. Anyway, this is gonna be a bit angsty, a bit funny, a bit
depressing, but on the whole a feel good fic. At the time of writing this I don't
know whether it will be an FBK-esque homage fic or an independent story, for
you see I have very little in the way of a plan, we'll just see how it goes mm?
I'm sort of using some fanfic constants in this, lifted from several fics by
Sniper, FBK, Tifu and Parsec, if anyone feels that they are being infringed
upon by me then tell me how to correct the error before flaming me to death,
sorry for being lazy ^_^;
Butch's wet form hovered in through the back door; face red and a large
bruise forming. He couldn't bear the weight of her words; each one was a
shard of glass in his mind. He floated up the stairs silently, an occasional sob
making his chest heave. The guys and girls had been in the front room and
he made it to the bedroom undetected. He slumped down onto his bed,
feeling slightly guilty for feeling so bad, considering his resurrection at the
hands of Mojo, his rehabilitation and adoption by Miss Keane, or Mom as he
now called her. He had much to be thankful for, but the fact he should be
grateful was just another facet of the large and looming sadness within him.
He put on his MP3 player, playing melancholy tunes such as Outside into his
ears, tears streaking his face and soaking into the pillow. Any other sorrow,
any other pain he'd have taken it out on some robber, some criminal, but this
pain was too personal, to acute, and to him it was all his fault.
Buttercup wasn't feeling much better as she sat on the cliff overlooking the
bay. This was where she came when she had to think or she was really
angry; the smashed stumps of fallen trees were testament to her wrath
unbridled. It was a cruel design that life seemed to draw for her, one of
responsibility and emotion at a time of life when fun and discovery were
supposed to be paramount. She cursed her nature, more that of an impulsive
teenager than of a five year old girl. And Butch? Did she really hate him?
Was she just scared? Was this a cheesy, soap opera angst trip? She
decided to pull herself together, having shaken off the shock of his outburst.
She just decided to hope it blew over, that he was hallucinating or insane. Of
course she was just running away, but if you'd have told her she'd have said "I
never run away", so this was her way of getting round the problem. She flew
back to the boys' house and came in through the door quietly. Her sisters,
who were engrossed in the episode of Invader Zim they were watching, just
said a simple "Hi" and let her sit down.
As the boys had separate rooms, nobody disturbed Butch for a while, until a
concerned query to Buttercup about his location prompted them to check his
room. He seemed motionless, save the juddering rise and fall of his
breathing, as he lay huddled on his bed. How You Remind Me filtered in tinny
tones from his headphones. It'd been over an hour since he'd come back and
he was still sobbing. It was Boomer who discovered him, in his prone state.
Gingerly, the tow headed ruff entered the room and looked down at his
concerned brother, laying a mitt gently on his shoulder.
"Dude? You OK? You look ill." He didn't respond, other than a listless
shrug that didn't even dislodge his brother's hand. A muffled, mournful sound
came from Butch; that could be just about discerned as speech.
"Leave me alone." he seemed totally apathetic, prone. Boomer sat on the
edge of the bed, looking over at his brother.
"What's up bro? C'mon, just between you and me?" Still only juddering
breaths. A stirring saw the corner of the large, bloodshot, deep green eye
check the door. Seeing it was securely shut, Butch hoisted himself upright,
taking out his earphones and facing Boomer.
"So.what's got you in such a state, man?" Boomer looked on, concern
written in his gaze, and he already had an inkling of what the problem was.
Butch just looked at him, eyes as blank as they were red. He just fell forward
slowly, his brother catching him, and giving him a slightly uncomfortable hug.
He simply stated the facts.
"I told her.now she hates me." Boomer, who had been sceptical about the
apparent over-acting, reflected on what it would feel like for Bubbles to tell him
she not only didn't love him, but hated his guts as well. The thought nestled
in his gut like a lump of ice, and suddenly he felt very sorry for his brother. He
knew how deep these feelings ran, how the girls and the boys were inexorably
bound by their mutual births, accelerated mental states and having "grown up
fast". A casual observer would see childish crushes and equally childish
reactions, but for Butch, whom fate had decided to dick around with, there
was shredding machine where his heart should have been, and his sibling
knew this.
"Shhh, she doesn't hate you dude.she just wasn't ready" His words were low
and soothing. "Just give it time to cool down. Anyway, imagine if Brick saw
you like this, like some dick in Dawson's Crack?" Butch seemed to convulse
in what seemed to be a chuckle mingled with a sob and a hiccup. "It's meant
to be, just be confident in that, dude. So, stop bawling like a bitch with a
skinned knee! Who's the baddest ruff?" Butch didn't reply. "I can't hear you,
who's the meanest, toughest, hardest mofo on the team? Who's the one that
the Grim Reaper himself couldn't put down? Who eats criminals for
breakfast?" Butch replied weakly
"Me."
"Damn skippy it's you! And if you're gonna mope like this then your rep's
dead in the water. You, who held a train line together and had the cars run
over you, who put himself in the path of a fire-breathing dragon, who took
Mojoke to the cleaners? You're going to let a little setback like this cut you
down?"
"No.I guess not"
"That's more like it" And then Butch managed a weak smile.
The green duo didn't so much as look at each other for a week or more. At
school they sat at different tables, ate lunch separately and Butch always
hung back, letting the Puffs and his brothers shoot away before going after
them. His initial anguish had settled into a dull melancholy, and the fact that
he had to see her every day was more than a kick in the teeth. What was
worse, he began to get snappy at Boomer, of whom he was jealous. All that
giggling and fawning was annoying before, because it was so sissified and
sickeningly saccharine. Now it was annoying because he wanted the same
thing, and couldn't have it. He wasn't brooding on it as much as he had been,
and crime fighting allowed him some release. He'd hospitalised two robbers
when they resisted arrest and shot at him, his temper did get the better of him
by times. However, love, loss, crime, responsibility and childhood tainted
didn't spoil his appetite, as he chowed down on his third cheeseburger at
dinner in the new Keane family home. More modest than the Utonium
household it was a two story in the same suburb, Pokey Oaks. The
kitchen/diner was kept moderately clean, and the boys did have to clean their
rooms weekly, but Miss Keane was now a working mother, and therefore was
a little rushed sometimes. That was why they tucked into take-out every
Friday, so she could recharge her batteries.
"Wuff weh dumph tuffmuufah?" That was Boomer asking what the following
day's itinerary would be, through a mouthful of burger.
"Sllllluuuurrrrp.AGH!" That was Brick, attempting to reply, but getting a
milkshake induced headache instead. And so the conversation ended until
they finished.
"I thought we might pay the girls a visit, go to the park or something. It sucks
that we only see them at school and when we've got to fight. So, we can kick
their sissy asses at soccer tomorrow!" Brick smiled as he slumped down on
the couch.
"I hear that bro, so we're friends now, and I love one of 'em, but they're still
sissies and we gots to kick some ass!" Boomer did tend to get into the
competitive spirit quite quickly.
"Eeeh.I dunno guys." Butch looked to sag rather than sit on the sofa.
"Aww, c'mon dude! You know you want to get some Puff ass!" Brick slapped
his brother on the arm.
"Kinda." Butch almost laughed at the fact that the 'ass' that his brother was
referring to was of a less metaphorical sort.
"C'mon dude, it's cool, they ain't gonna bite ya." Boomer was soothing in his
words, and by 'they' he meant 'she', and by 'she' he meant 'Buttercup'. He
hadn't been too happy about the green Puffs reaction to his brother, and
would have at least expected a little more diplomacy from her. Such is the
peril of putting a five-year-old psyche in a fifteen-year-old situation with a
twenty year olds experience of life and a one year olds experience of love.
Dangerous mix. However, the magical power of subtext persuaded Butch to
face his hauntings.
"Yeah.OK.sounds fun." Upbeat was hard when saying 'sounds fun' rather
than 'sounds like chewing broken glass'.
The night rolled on, and the meridian line sped round the world, lopping off
slices of daily bread. And so the boys got up, washed, dressed, ate, and left
for the park. As was the norm for such situations, and perhaps slightly clich‚,
the sun was shining brightly, birds were singing and that weekend feeling
permeated everything.
Butch didn't feel quite as sunny.
In fact, he felt like he'd just been sick, an empty sinking pit was leering up at
him from where his stomach was supposed to be. They were just going to
hook up with the girls, play a bit of catch and maybe grab a movie. The
inclusion of a "beeper" system for emergencies allowed the six super powered
kids to go and enjoy a Saturday, rather than staying at home to watch a
smiley faced phone all day. The girls were already there. waiting for them,
and it took a little effort for Butch to stay behind his brothers and touch down
on the field. For a second, there was an awkwardness in the air, the blonde
and brunette counterparts seemed a little ill at ease for a moment, before
Bubbles switched her worried expression for a happy one.
"Hey guys! Hiya Boomie, we gonna play?" Butch breathed a sigh, and
guessed the Buttercup was doing the same thing. A distraction, not having to
say too much to each other for now, while still having fun with the others.
Buttercup and Butch immediately set out some goals and stood adamantly at
their lines, a good 20 metres separating them, which was how they liked it at
the moment.
The game was only into its tenth minute before a shrill beeping brought a halt
to play. It was a message from the Mayor, and Blossom read it aloud.
"Giant monster in town, burning buildings with its eyes, help. Okay, let's move
out!" She shot into the air, her sisters flanking her, and the boys followed in
similar formation. Six streaks headed at best speed toward the centre of
town, where a large, mantis like beast was cutting swathes through buildings
with its claws and carving deep scores with beams emitted from its eyes. The
two groups split off, circling round to attack from both sides but, as was
usually the case, Buttercup sped off ahead to get an early shot in. Butch had
anticipated this and flown out wide and fast to back her up if needs be. And
needs did be. She didn't realise that the beast's head could completely
swivel, and soon she was under its gaze. And not even superheroes cope
well with a laser that can cut a building in half. If it were a movie, everything
would slow down into "bullet-time". Butch streaked toward Buttercup, who
had barely been able to stop her charge toward the monster before it would
get a shot off, let alone duck out of the way. None too graciously, Butch
slammed into her, wrapping his arms around her neck and rocketing up and
away from the monster. He was about to relax his grip on her when he felt his
whole back warm up. Within a half a second, every pain receptor from his
neck to his legs was screaming out at him. He launched himself further up,
but couldn't escape the beam, and he couldn't let Buttercup go. If she got
badly hurt, he'd never be able to live with himself.
"NNNGGGYYYAAAAAAAHHH!" He screamed out, seconds passing like
hours. And all of a sudden, the burning ended. He could only assume that
the rest of the gang had taken the monster out. He released his grip on
Buttercup, who seemed unharmed. Then her image, one he'd thought of so
often, blurred and shifted, fading to black, and the last thing he felt was the
sensation of falling.
"Whuh...what happened? Butch?" Buttercup looked for the boy who'd been
clamped round her not a second ago. And then her peripheral vision spotted
his plummeting form. The others were busy finishing off the mantis, and he
was falling fast. She put herself into a suicide dive, screaming toward the
floor, he was almost in reach. Just a few more centimetres. WHAM! He hit
the floor like a sack of bricks, and she barely had time to slow down before
slamming to a stop beside him. Her hands and knees had left cracks in the
road where she'd landed, but such trivial matters did not concern her now. He
was on his back, seemingly unhurt but unconscious, until she noticed the
smell. There was no mistaking the horrid stench of charred flesh. She knelt
over him, lifting his shoulder gently, and seeing the damage that had been
done. His whole back was red and pink, pitted and blackened in places
where his clothing had melted. She gasped and gingerly lifted him up, flying
over to the fallen monster and the rest of the team.
"GUYS! It's Butch! He's hurt bad!" They all crowded round, Blossom
inspecting his wounds.
"We've got to get him to the Professor. He'll know what to do." And they all
took off, Buttercup still carrying Butch in her arms, his arms and legs hanging
limply. He was surprisingly light, like a large rag doll, but his breathing was
shallow and laboured. Suddenly, his eyes flickered open for a second.
"Ugh...are you an angel...?" And he collapsed again.
"Hmm, yes, these burns are quite severe, but they'll heal nicely once I've
treated them. You girls and boys are made of sterner stuff than pretty much
anything else on the planet." The Professor set about cleaning Butch's back,
having given him a sedative. The others, content at the Professors diagnosis,
went downstairs, but Buttercup stayed, perched on the side of the bed, the
girls' bed, on which Butch was laid, face down. The Professor daubed
ointment on his back, peeled off charred skin and put dressings on his back.
"Buttercup, can you give me a hand to sit him up? Hold his head for me,
that's right." They got him into a sitting position, and the Professor wrapped
gauze around his midriff, so it looked like he was wearing a sleeveless shirt
made of bandages. Then, they laid him gingerly down, and the Professor
went to call Miss Keane.
"Well" said Buttercup "alone at last, I guess." She sighed wistfully, looking
down upon Butch. He looked tiny, she'd never appreciated how big the bed
was in comparison until now. With him lying in the centre, the bed seemed to
stretch out around him, making him look very vulnerable indeed. She put her
mitt to his forehead, it was wet with perspiration and his facial muscles were
taut, as if he was grimacing in his sleep. She flew to the bathroom and wet a
flannel, mopping his head. He seemed to relax under this ministration, and
she felt a sense of achievement at her nursing technique.
She thought back to the seconds after he stood in the way of the blast, when
he fell limply from her grasp and she'd not been able to stop him slamming
into the floor. She felt guilty as hell that the last thing she'd said to him,
directly, was that she hated him. What was she thinking? They were best
friends! And therein lay the problem. The rapid chain of events from their
resurrection, to their repentance to their friendship with her and her sisters
was a bit much for her. And then, for him to go confessing his love? Well, it
was time for the patented "Get angry to defend yourself" thing. And the worst
thing was, when she caught a glimpse of those big green eyes, looking up at
her like some expectant pet, she knew he'd been sincere, and that scared her
even more. She was five...FIVE...this stuff should have had to wait for at least
another decade, but no, nothing was ever simple for her, easy wasn't the
Powerpuff way. She leaned close to his ear and whispered.
"I'm so sorry for what I said Butch, I didn't mean it. I'm just confused, and I'm
gonna need some time." He didn't even twitch. How could she be so
cowardly? Why couldn't she deal with this in a rational way? She could take
on monsters and bad guys and threats to civilization as we know it until the
cows came home. But a little bit of emotional turmoil and she was running
relationships and getting people hurt because she was scared. She hovered
up and away from him, leaving him to his rest.
A couple of days were all it took for Butch to heal completely, and he was as
chipper, blunt and brash as ever. Hovering into the schoolroom, he looked
like he used to do, in with his brothers, sniggering about something or other.
Gone was the melancholy moper, listlessly listening to Miss Keane teach. At
recess, he hovered openly over to Buttercup, who was building walls in the
sand pit, just to knock them down again. She jumped, then looked down,
when he came over.
"Hey, Buttercup, can we talk?" He smiled at her.
"Uhm...sure..."
"Well, I just wanted to say that I didn't want to push you anywhere you didn't
want to go, it just sorta poured out. Friends?" She pondered this short, open
appraisal of his actions with some awe. Serious courage was needed for this,
she could have gotten angry and decked him again.
"Sure, hey, wanna build a fortress here?"
"Cool, but one more thing."
"Mmm?"
"Apology accepted..."
Chasing Buttercup Phase the Second
A PPG/RRB fic
Author's note: Ah well, so I've got no morals or willpower. I was determined
to let this stand but I've been manoeuvred by forces unknown into doing a
'sequel' of sorts. Anyway, this is gonna be a bit angsty, a bit funny, a bit
depressing, but on the whole a feel good fic. At the time of writing this I don't
know whether it will be an FBK-esque homage fic or an independent story, for
you see I have very little in the way of a plan, we'll just see how it goes mm?
I'm sort of using some fanfic constants in this, lifted from several fics by
Sniper, FBK, Tifu and Parsec, if anyone feels that they are being infringed
upon by me then tell me how to correct the error before flaming me to death,
sorry for being lazy ^_^;
Butch's wet form hovered in through the back door; face red and a large
bruise forming. He couldn't bear the weight of her words; each one was a
shard of glass in his mind. He floated up the stairs silently, an occasional sob
making his chest heave. The guys and girls had been in the front room and
he made it to the bedroom undetected. He slumped down onto his bed,
feeling slightly guilty for feeling so bad, considering his resurrection at the
hands of Mojo, his rehabilitation and adoption by Miss Keane, or Mom as he
now called her. He had much to be thankful for, but the fact he should be
grateful was just another facet of the large and looming sadness within him.
He put on his MP3 player, playing melancholy tunes such as Outside into his
ears, tears streaking his face and soaking into the pillow. Any other sorrow,
any other pain he'd have taken it out on some robber, some criminal, but this
pain was too personal, to acute, and to him it was all his fault.
Buttercup wasn't feeling much better as she sat on the cliff overlooking the
bay. This was where she came when she had to think or she was really
angry; the smashed stumps of fallen trees were testament to her wrath
unbridled. It was a cruel design that life seemed to draw for her, one of
responsibility and emotion at a time of life when fun and discovery were
supposed to be paramount. She cursed her nature, more that of an impulsive
teenager than of a five year old girl. And Butch? Did she really hate him?
Was she just scared? Was this a cheesy, soap opera angst trip? She
decided to pull herself together, having shaken off the shock of his outburst.
She just decided to hope it blew over, that he was hallucinating or insane. Of
course she was just running away, but if you'd have told her she'd have said "I
never run away", so this was her way of getting round the problem. She flew
back to the boys' house and came in through the door quietly. Her sisters,
who were engrossed in the episode of Invader Zim they were watching, just
said a simple "Hi" and let her sit down.
As the boys had separate rooms, nobody disturbed Butch for a while, until a
concerned query to Buttercup about his location prompted them to check his
room. He seemed motionless, save the juddering rise and fall of his
breathing, as he lay huddled on his bed. How You Remind Me filtered in tinny
tones from his headphones. It'd been over an hour since he'd come back and
he was still sobbing. It was Boomer who discovered him, in his prone state.
Gingerly, the tow headed ruff entered the room and looked down at his
concerned brother, laying a mitt gently on his shoulder.
"Dude? You OK? You look ill." He didn't respond, other than a listless
shrug that didn't even dislodge his brother's hand. A muffled, mournful sound
came from Butch; that could be just about discerned as speech.
"Leave me alone." he seemed totally apathetic, prone. Boomer sat on the
edge of the bed, looking over at his brother.
"What's up bro? C'mon, just between you and me?" Still only juddering
breaths. A stirring saw the corner of the large, bloodshot, deep green eye
check the door. Seeing it was securely shut, Butch hoisted himself upright,
taking out his earphones and facing Boomer.
"So.what's got you in such a state, man?" Boomer looked on, concern
written in his gaze, and he already had an inkling of what the problem was.
Butch just looked at him, eyes as blank as they were red. He just fell forward
slowly, his brother catching him, and giving him a slightly uncomfortable hug.
He simply stated the facts.
"I told her.now she hates me." Boomer, who had been sceptical about the
apparent over-acting, reflected on what it would feel like for Bubbles to tell him
she not only didn't love him, but hated his guts as well. The thought nestled
in his gut like a lump of ice, and suddenly he felt very sorry for his brother. He
knew how deep these feelings ran, how the girls and the boys were inexorably
bound by their mutual births, accelerated mental states and having "grown up
fast". A casual observer would see childish crushes and equally childish
reactions, but for Butch, whom fate had decided to dick around with, there
was shredding machine where his heart should have been, and his sibling
knew this.
"Shhh, she doesn't hate you dude.she just wasn't ready" His words were low
and soothing. "Just give it time to cool down. Anyway, imagine if Brick saw
you like this, like some dick in Dawson's Crack?" Butch seemed to convulse
in what seemed to be a chuckle mingled with a sob and a hiccup. "It's meant
to be, just be confident in that, dude. So, stop bawling like a bitch with a
skinned knee! Who's the baddest ruff?" Butch didn't reply. "I can't hear you,
who's the meanest, toughest, hardest mofo on the team? Who's the one that
the Grim Reaper himself couldn't put down? Who eats criminals for
breakfast?" Butch replied weakly
"Me."
"Damn skippy it's you! And if you're gonna mope like this then your rep's
dead in the water. You, who held a train line together and had the cars run
over you, who put himself in the path of a fire-breathing dragon, who took
Mojoke to the cleaners? You're going to let a little setback like this cut you
down?"
"No.I guess not"
"That's more like it" And then Butch managed a weak smile.
The green duo didn't so much as look at each other for a week or more. At
school they sat at different tables, ate lunch separately and Butch always
hung back, letting the Puffs and his brothers shoot away before going after
them. His initial anguish had settled into a dull melancholy, and the fact that
he had to see her every day was more than a kick in the teeth. What was
worse, he began to get snappy at Boomer, of whom he was jealous. All that
giggling and fawning was annoying before, because it was so sissified and
sickeningly saccharine. Now it was annoying because he wanted the same
thing, and couldn't have it. He wasn't brooding on it as much as he had been,
and crime fighting allowed him some release. He'd hospitalised two robbers
when they resisted arrest and shot at him, his temper did get the better of him
by times. However, love, loss, crime, responsibility and childhood tainted
didn't spoil his appetite, as he chowed down on his third cheeseburger at
dinner in the new Keane family home. More modest than the Utonium
household it was a two story in the same suburb, Pokey Oaks. The
kitchen/diner was kept moderately clean, and the boys did have to clean their
rooms weekly, but Miss Keane was now a working mother, and therefore was
a little rushed sometimes. That was why they tucked into take-out every
Friday, so she could recharge her batteries.
"Wuff weh dumph tuffmuufah?" That was Boomer asking what the following
day's itinerary would be, through a mouthful of burger.
"Sllllluuuurrrrp.AGH!" That was Brick, attempting to reply, but getting a
milkshake induced headache instead. And so the conversation ended until
they finished.
"I thought we might pay the girls a visit, go to the park or something. It sucks
that we only see them at school and when we've got to fight. So, we can kick
their sissy asses at soccer tomorrow!" Brick smiled as he slumped down on
the couch.
"I hear that bro, so we're friends now, and I love one of 'em, but they're still
sissies and we gots to kick some ass!" Boomer did tend to get into the
competitive spirit quite quickly.
"Eeeh.I dunno guys." Butch looked to sag rather than sit on the sofa.
"Aww, c'mon dude! You know you want to get some Puff ass!" Brick slapped
his brother on the arm.
"Kinda." Butch almost laughed at the fact that the 'ass' that his brother was
referring to was of a less metaphorical sort.
"C'mon dude, it's cool, they ain't gonna bite ya." Boomer was soothing in his
words, and by 'they' he meant 'she', and by 'she' he meant 'Buttercup'. He
hadn't been too happy about the green Puffs reaction to his brother, and
would have at least expected a little more diplomacy from her. Such is the
peril of putting a five-year-old psyche in a fifteen-year-old situation with a
twenty year olds experience of life and a one year olds experience of love.
Dangerous mix. However, the magical power of subtext persuaded Butch to
face his hauntings.
"Yeah.OK.sounds fun." Upbeat was hard when saying 'sounds fun' rather
than 'sounds like chewing broken glass'.
The night rolled on, and the meridian line sped round the world, lopping off
slices of daily bread. And so the boys got up, washed, dressed, ate, and left
for the park. As was the norm for such situations, and perhaps slightly clich‚,
the sun was shining brightly, birds were singing and that weekend feeling
permeated everything.
Butch didn't feel quite as sunny.
In fact, he felt like he'd just been sick, an empty sinking pit was leering up at
him from where his stomach was supposed to be. They were just going to
hook up with the girls, play a bit of catch and maybe grab a movie. The
inclusion of a "beeper" system for emergencies allowed the six super powered
kids to go and enjoy a Saturday, rather than staying at home to watch a
smiley faced phone all day. The girls were already there. waiting for them,
and it took a little effort for Butch to stay behind his brothers and touch down
on the field. For a second, there was an awkwardness in the air, the blonde
and brunette counterparts seemed a little ill at ease for a moment, before
Bubbles switched her worried expression for a happy one.
"Hey guys! Hiya Boomie, we gonna play?" Butch breathed a sigh, and
guessed the Buttercup was doing the same thing. A distraction, not having to
say too much to each other for now, while still having fun with the others.
Buttercup and Butch immediately set out some goals and stood adamantly at
their lines, a good 20 metres separating them, which was how they liked it at
the moment.
The game was only into its tenth minute before a shrill beeping brought a halt
to play. It was a message from the Mayor, and Blossom read it aloud.
"Giant monster in town, burning buildings with its eyes, help. Okay, let's move
out!" She shot into the air, her sisters flanking her, and the boys followed in
similar formation. Six streaks headed at best speed toward the centre of
town, where a large, mantis like beast was cutting swathes through buildings
with its claws and carving deep scores with beams emitted from its eyes. The
two groups split off, circling round to attack from both sides but, as was
usually the case, Buttercup sped off ahead to get an early shot in. Butch had
anticipated this and flown out wide and fast to back her up if needs be. And
needs did be. She didn't realise that the beast's head could completely
swivel, and soon she was under its gaze. And not even superheroes cope
well with a laser that can cut a building in half. If it were a movie, everything
would slow down into "bullet-time". Butch streaked toward Buttercup, who
had barely been able to stop her charge toward the monster before it would
get a shot off, let alone duck out of the way. None too graciously, Butch
slammed into her, wrapping his arms around her neck and rocketing up and
away from the monster. He was about to relax his grip on her when he felt his
whole back warm up. Within a half a second, every pain receptor from his
neck to his legs was screaming out at him. He launched himself further up,
but couldn't escape the beam, and he couldn't let Buttercup go. If she got
badly hurt, he'd never be able to live with himself.
"NNNGGGYYYAAAAAAAHHH!" He screamed out, seconds passing like
hours. And all of a sudden, the burning ended. He could only assume that
the rest of the gang had taken the monster out. He released his grip on
Buttercup, who seemed unharmed. Then her image, one he'd thought of so
often, blurred and shifted, fading to black, and the last thing he felt was the
sensation of falling.
"Whuh...what happened? Butch?" Buttercup looked for the boy who'd been
clamped round her not a second ago. And then her peripheral vision spotted
his plummeting form. The others were busy finishing off the mantis, and he
was falling fast. She put herself into a suicide dive, screaming toward the
floor, he was almost in reach. Just a few more centimetres. WHAM! He hit
the floor like a sack of bricks, and she barely had time to slow down before
slamming to a stop beside him. Her hands and knees had left cracks in the
road where she'd landed, but such trivial matters did not concern her now. He
was on his back, seemingly unhurt but unconscious, until she noticed the
smell. There was no mistaking the horrid stench of charred flesh. She knelt
over him, lifting his shoulder gently, and seeing the damage that had been
done. His whole back was red and pink, pitted and blackened in places
where his clothing had melted. She gasped and gingerly lifted him up, flying
over to the fallen monster and the rest of the team.
"GUYS! It's Butch! He's hurt bad!" They all crowded round, Blossom
inspecting his wounds.
"We've got to get him to the Professor. He'll know what to do." And they all
took off, Buttercup still carrying Butch in her arms, his arms and legs hanging
limply. He was surprisingly light, like a large rag doll, but his breathing was
shallow and laboured. Suddenly, his eyes flickered open for a second.
"Ugh...are you an angel...?" And he collapsed again.
"Hmm, yes, these burns are quite severe, but they'll heal nicely once I've
treated them. You girls and boys are made of sterner stuff than pretty much
anything else on the planet." The Professor set about cleaning Butch's back,
having given him a sedative. The others, content at the Professors diagnosis,
went downstairs, but Buttercup stayed, perched on the side of the bed, the
girls' bed, on which Butch was laid, face down. The Professor daubed
ointment on his back, peeled off charred skin and put dressings on his back.
"Buttercup, can you give me a hand to sit him up? Hold his head for me,
that's right." They got him into a sitting position, and the Professor wrapped
gauze around his midriff, so it looked like he was wearing a sleeveless shirt
made of bandages. Then, they laid him gingerly down, and the Professor
went to call Miss Keane.
"Well" said Buttercup "alone at last, I guess." She sighed wistfully, looking
down upon Butch. He looked tiny, she'd never appreciated how big the bed
was in comparison until now. With him lying in the centre, the bed seemed to
stretch out around him, making him look very vulnerable indeed. She put her
mitt to his forehead, it was wet with perspiration and his facial muscles were
taut, as if he was grimacing in his sleep. She flew to the bathroom and wet a
flannel, mopping his head. He seemed to relax under this ministration, and
she felt a sense of achievement at her nursing technique.
She thought back to the seconds after he stood in the way of the blast, when
he fell limply from her grasp and she'd not been able to stop him slamming
into the floor. She felt guilty as hell that the last thing she'd said to him,
directly, was that she hated him. What was she thinking? They were best
friends! And therein lay the problem. The rapid chain of events from their
resurrection, to their repentance to their friendship with her and her sisters
was a bit much for her. And then, for him to go confessing his love? Well, it
was time for the patented "Get angry to defend yourself" thing. And the worst
thing was, when she caught a glimpse of those big green eyes, looking up at
her like some expectant pet, she knew he'd been sincere, and that scared her
even more. She was five...FIVE...this stuff should have had to wait for at least
another decade, but no, nothing was ever simple for her, easy wasn't the
Powerpuff way. She leaned close to his ear and whispered.
"I'm so sorry for what I said Butch, I didn't mean it. I'm just confused, and I'm
gonna need some time." He didn't even twitch. How could she be so
cowardly? Why couldn't she deal with this in a rational way? She could take
on monsters and bad guys and threats to civilization as we know it until the
cows came home. But a little bit of emotional turmoil and she was running
relationships and getting people hurt because she was scared. She hovered
up and away from him, leaving him to his rest.
A couple of days were all it took for Butch to heal completely, and he was as
chipper, blunt and brash as ever. Hovering into the schoolroom, he looked
like he used to do, in with his brothers, sniggering about something or other.
Gone was the melancholy moper, listlessly listening to Miss Keane teach. At
recess, he hovered openly over to Buttercup, who was building walls in the
sand pit, just to knock them down again. She jumped, then looked down,
when he came over.
"Hey, Buttercup, can we talk?" He smiled at her.
"Uhm...sure..."
"Well, I just wanted to say that I didn't want to push you anywhere you didn't
want to go, it just sorta poured out. Friends?" She pondered this short, open
appraisal of his actions with some awe. Serious courage was needed for this,
she could have gotten angry and decked him again.
"Sure, hey, wanna build a fortress here?"
"Cool, but one more thing."
"Mmm?"
"Apology accepted..."