There was something about going to a big city on your own that filled one with possibilities. That was just the feeling that was running through Bubbles as she walked through the streets of New York City. She'd come for the Museum of Modern Art and decided in her planning she'd make an entire week of it despite the Professor, and in all honesty Blossom's, dismay. Bubbles had told them that if they had an issue with her going then they should just come with, they'd make a vacation of it. The Professor had crumbled saying that he had work to do and didn't much care for big cities. Blossom had given a twenty minute speech about how the people of Townsville needed her and she couldn't just leave them alone for a week. Buttercup had seemed intrigued by a trip to New York until the word museum had been said and then the young woman's green eyes had glazed over in disinterest. For all those reasons, and the fact that Bubbles could not be dissuaded, she found herself alone in New York City.

Bubbles loved the feeling a new city gave her. No one knew who she was, no one expected her to chat with them, or save them. For all intents and purposes, the New Yorkers viewed Bubbles as just another body in the sea of people. She was normal in the Big Apple. Bubbles didn't mind being the center of attention back home but it was nice for a change to have the barista at the coffee shop she went to pause when she provided her name. Outside of Townsville Bubbles was a strange name and she relished in it just a little. She enjoyed the adventure of being unknown to the fullest.

Until she reached the third day and had somehow accomplished all the touristy things she'd come to the city to do. She had four more days before she went home. Bubbles gave her smoothie a sip and looked over a map. She wasn't sure why she bothered because she wasn't particularly good at reading maps. She'd failed the unit of her geography class in high school, and besides, there was so much jammed onto the map that mere street names began to overwhelm her. She folded the map up and returned it to her purse. Perhaps she could simply roam around the city. With the blessing of being superpowered, Bubbles didn't have to fear getting lost in a big city like other women did. She had the privilege of allowing herself to wander alone in an unfamiliar city.

Bubbles managed to wander most of her day away. She found little mom and pop stores and the best mexican restaurant she'd ever eaten at that she was tempted to never go home to Townsville again. As Bubbles enjoyed her food she daydreamed about her life in the big city. She'd get a job as a freelance artist, get a dingy little apartment that always smelled like cigarette smoke despite her not smoking, and she'd eat at this restaurant at least once a week. She thought about how she'd get a cat or maybe a small dog and even though Bubbles wouldn't be rich, and her family might worry about her paying rent, she'd get by and she'd enjoy living in a big city where she was pleasantly invisible. With a small sigh as she threw away her napkin, Bubbles dismissed her imaginary life. She could never really leave Townsville for more than this week. She loved Townsville, but it was nice to think about a life outside of it.

Bubbles was pulled from her thoughts when she heard the scuffle happening a few alleyways down. Someone was getting beat up, and although no one in this city expected her to save them, she decided to do so anyways.

Boomer had once enjoyed getting into fights. When he was younger he and his brothers had gotten into so many that his eye had been swollen for a week despite the Chemical-X that had coursed through his veins then. The high of a fight had been his absolute favorite thing in the world. Boomer had enjoyed fighting almost as much as Butch had. He said almost because no one loved fighting as much as his green eyed brother.

"Careful," Boomer coughed as he took a punch to the groin. "I want to have children one day."

"Then maybe they'll give us our money," The man punching him snarled. There were two more men simply holding his arms so he couldn't fight back. Not that he could really do much damage if they weren't, the Chemical-X had been removed from his system years ago.

"I don't owe you any money, that's my brothers," Boomer said. There was another blow sent to his stomach. Something inside him did not respond well. Boomer thought about how his hair was getting too long when he spat blood and got it in his blond locks. "And for your information, beating the shit out of me isn't going to do much, I haven't seen or heard from them in months." Boomer took several more punches. The skin just above his right eyebrow broke, letting blood drip into his eye.

"Maybe your bloodied corpse at their doorstep will do something," The punching man said. Boomer would have begged if he'd thought it would do anything to help his case, but the pink faced, diamond stud earrings, meathead beating him didn't seem the kind to give into beggars. Instead, Boomer simply spat at the man's feet and told him to kindly go fuck himself. The man didn't get a chance to deliver another blow to Boomer's already blood covered face before a feminine looking hand grabbed the man and flung him into a nearby wall. He hit the brick with an unsettling thud and groaned.

"Oh, I'm sorry, was that too much force?" A harp-like voice asked. Boomer went crashing onto the disgusting ground as the two men that had been holding him up charged at the owner of that harmonious voice. Boomer lifted himself stiffly to his feet trying to understand why a random woman would endanger herself to help him. "Boys, please, I don't want to fight, I just thought you should learn to play nice with your friend over there."

There was something about that voice. It sounded familiar, but he had a feeling if he really knew her she wouldn't be saving his ass. He couldn't think of any woman in this city who knew him that he hadn't just flirted with for a night's desires and then not called afterwards. There was no one who knew his face in this city that would want to save him from getting the shit beat out of him. Boomer wiped the blood out of his eyes. That was when she moved into the light of the street lights for the briefest of seconds as she sent a guy flying over her shoulder. Boomer suddenly placed the voice, after all, there was no way he'd ever forget those jarring, lightning blue eyes.

"Bubbles?" He squeaked. She stopped fighting and directed her eyes to the beaten man before her.

"Boomer?" She asked as the three men she'd been fighting lay on the ground moaning in pain. The man with diamond studs cussed and the glint of a knife blade made itself known.

"You little bitch," he hissed. Boomer sprung into action. He clutched Bubbles' wrist and took off running. He'd parked his motorcycle only a block away and he ran as fast as he could. Bubbles, thank the Heavens, ran with him. She didn't seem to consider flying and he was glad for it. If those thugs saw her fly news would travel through the streets and before morning Brick would know. Boomer had to ensure Brick didn't know that there was a Powerpuff girl in his city. The knowledge would only lead to the world being short a superhero.

"Boomer!" Bubbles gasped when he stopped running and began patting his pockets for his keys. "What is going on? Why are you in New York?"

"I should really be asking you why you're here," Boomer revved his motorcycle to life. "But for now just get on the bike."

Bubbles had no idea what was happening. She'd only wanted to stop someone from getting hurt and now she was running from street thugs with a bloodied Rowdyruff boy. A Rowdyruff that apparently owned a motorcycle and despite his obvious lack of Chemical-X did not wear a helmet. I should go back to my hotel room, she thought. I should leave him and fly back to my hotel. But his eyes looked up at her with an urgency she'd never thought a Rowdyruff boy could feel, and she could hear the echoing footsteps of the thugs approaching, and she'd never ridden on a motorcycle before and despite all this insanity, she really wanted to ride one. Bubbles glanced over her shoulder at the direction of her hotel then got on the back of the bike. Boomer propelled them forward the second her arms had closed around his waist.

They didn't stop until they were well out of the neighborhood. Bubbles wasn't sure where they were now. She slid off the back of the bike when Boomer killed the engine. Her eyes looked at the state of him. It was clear he was in pain. His face was covered in blood and now that the adrenaline was gone he was favoring a leg. He looked an absolute mess. With a small frown as she looked at him Bubbles made a decision.

"Take me back to my hotel," she said. Boomer looked at her quizzically, his lip was split and one of his eyes was already beginning to swell shut.

"What?" He asked. His voice was deeper than she remembered it being, but then again, it had been years since they'd last seen each other.

"You need somewhere to clean up that they won't be looking for you, and I happen to have some clothes that will fit you." She tugged at the loose string on her sweater. It too had some blood stains from holding onto him. "And it's somewhere quiet that you can explain exactly what the hell is happening." Bubbles watched him with hands on her hips as he stared at her and leaned heavily against his motorcycle. For a moment, she thought he'd say no, but instead he only got back on his bike.

"Okay," he said, that voice rough with fighting back pain. "Hop on." Bubbles got on the back of the bike and wrapped her arms around his waist. She was more careful this time as she suspected his torso was covered in bruises.

Boomer took off his shirt and took in the view from her hotel room. The city lights glittered and were almost pretty if he hadn't known what happened under the glittering lights. Bubbles had left for a moment to grab some ice. She'd instructed him to take off his shirt and maybe clean some of the blood off his face. But Boomer didn't much feel like walking to the bathroom, so he sat on her bed and stared out the window.

"You didn't clean up," she commented when she walked in with ice, closing the door gently behind her. He glanced at her. She hadn't changed out of her white sweater yet, despite the blood stains on it. He felt bad. It was a nice sweater that flattered her figure. She looked cozy and regal at the same time. The fabric folded over her full figure in a way that if he wasn't in extreme pain, and she wasn't a Powerpuff, he'd probably try to flirt. Bubbles placed some ice in a towel and wrapped it before turning back to him. Those lightning blue eyes of hers focused on the injury to his head. The Powerpuff pressed the makeshift ice pack to his forehead. "Hold this," she ordered. Boomer watched her move across the room toward the bathroom. He'd have to buy her a new sweater.

When Bubbles returned she had shed her sweater and was just in a tank top and her jeans. It was even more attractive than the sweater look. Boomer swallowed as he noticed the toned muscles of her arms. It wasn't fair to him that she still had Chemical-X coursing through her veins and was so beautiful. He simply didn't deserve her gentle hands on him as she wiped the blood from one side of his face. Boomer tried not to stare, but, Heavens, she was enchanting, as if she was a goddess that had appeared to aid the hero on his epic journey. Except I'm not a hero, Boomer thought bitterly. I'm a villain of the lowest kind.

"What are you doing in New York?" She asked, her voice had deepened with age, it wasn't husky like Buttercup's had been as kids, but it had lost the bird-like chirp, it now sounded like the sound waves made when they calmly brushed the shore. What a voice.

"My brothers and I moved here when we left Townsville, after you know…" the incident. She didn't look at him as she kept cleaning his wound. "And we didn't exactly make friends."

"What was the alleyway about?" She asked. "If you don't mind me asking." He didn't mind at all. Not with one of her hands on the side of his face.

"My brothers owe some money."

"Brothers? Not you?"

"No, I left them a few months back." She stopped for the briefest of seconds when he said that.

"So you've just been alone? All this time?" Bubbles felt a bit of sadness creeping into her rapidly beating heart as she looked him in the eyes. She was glad that he didn't have any superpowers or else he'd know just how hard her heart was pounding in her chest. Boomer. The Boomer she'd grown up with. They'd spent countless hours together. Sure, they'd fought, but when their siblings had turned their backs there'd been soft glances and cheesy smiles. She had wondered alone in the dark a million times what would have become of them if only things had been different. Perhaps they would have gone past soft glances and made their ways to soft touches and a happy life. But, she thought as she wiped away the blood and noticed an old scar just beneath his right eye, I gave you that scar. Bubbles felt the sadness taking hold and slowing her heartbeat.

"Being alone isn't so bad," he said. His voice wasn't weighed down making her think he meant it. "Especially after spending so much time under Brick's control. It's nice to just, live and not be cruel to those around me." Boomer had often thought how sad a story he and his brothers had. They'd been created out of spite and to be used in someone else's schemes, they'd died, and been risen again to serve yet another villian's will, and then, they'd lost their powers after the incident. Boomer had thought they could leave villianry behind, but when children grew up in terrible circumstances, sometimes it broke them beyond repair, and Brick was broken beyond repair. It had broken Boomer's heart when they'd moved to New York City and Brick had begun scheming as if nothing was different, but everything was different. They were powerless. Boomer and Butch had been terrified in this new city but they'd felt an obligation to their brother. So they'd stayed with their blood. Boomer had finally reached his breaking point a few months ago and left. Butch still remained, thinking that perhaps he could help Brick. With a deep sadness Boomer had said farewell to his brothers. He'd never see them again. Being alone isn't so bad, he thought to himself, being a villian was worse.

"So, they're still villains?" Bubbles asked, staring down at him. He looked so sad. She wanted to hold him and never let go.

"Yeah,"

"Too bad, Buttercup would never admit it, but I know she misses Butch." Bubbles had pretended for years in the absence of the Rowdyruffs to not see the hardly noticeable slouch in her sister's shoulders when a certain counterpart was mentioned. Buttercup had relied on anger after the incident, but in Bubbles opinion, anger could only protect you for so long.

"What are you doing in New York?" Boomer asked, drawing her out of her thoughts.

"I'm being a tourist," She said with a smile. She'd always prided herself in her ability to smile, even when she lived with a breaking heart. "I saw the Statue of Liberty yesterday."

"Really?" He asked. He let himself respond to her smile.

"I didn't realize just how big it is," she said as she made her way to rinse the rag out in the bathroom. "Like, I knew it was big obviously, but holy cow it's big!" Boomer smiled at the excitement in her voice. "I was really tempted to fly to the top so I could be eye level, but Blossom told me before I left that I wasn't supposed to draw attention to myself." She returned with her purse and rummaged through it. The purse produced a small first aid kit. "And I listened like a fool." She began carefully bandaging up the wound on his forehead.

"You're far from a fool," Boomer said. He remembered the way she used to pretend not to notice the awards and trophies her sisters won back in high school and that she herself didn't have her name on a single trophy. He remembered seeing her in the library one day trying desperately to be at the same test score level as Blossom. Bubbles had her own talents, he recalled, she could create art out of anything.

"Thank you," Bubbles said. Those eyes of hers watching him. After a moment she cleared her throat. "If you want to take a shower you can. I have some clothes I bought for the Professor, but they should fit you just fine." Bubbles busied herself with rummaging through her suitcase. Boomer pretended not to notice the loose bra. He wasn't fourteen after all, he could spot a bra and not get all uncomfortable. He thanked her as she handed him the set of clothes and then he escaped to the bathroom.

Bubbles was horrified. She'd left her bra right in the open. She knew they weren't kids and Heavens knew this wasn't the first bra of hers he'd seen, but it was still embarrassing. She huffed to herself. She had wanted to snag the bra and hide it the instant she'd opened her suitcase, but then he would have seen what was underneath; an emergency dose of Chemical-X. Blossom insisted that wherever Bubbles go, she have an emergency dose. The blonde had complied but now she knew she had to hide it from Boomer. As much as she'd disagreed with the Boys losing their powers it had been the people of Townsville that had decided. After the incident, no one wanted to trust the adoptive sons of the Devil himself. Blossom, despite still bearing scars, had even fought in the defense of Boomer and his brothers. Buttercup had remained silent in the aftermath of the incident. The rage in her eyes had been enough. Bubbles could still remember the way Butch had shrunk back under her sister's gaze. She would never say it out loud, but Bubbles knew that there was only one way for eyes to hold so much rage when they looked at someone. It could only happen if those eyes had looked at them with love once. Buttercup had never admitted it. She didn't need to. Bubbles knew that even if Buttercup didn't realize it, she'd given her heart away to the green eyed Rowdyruff. Perhaps that was why her sister never spoke of the Boys. She couldn't open herself up to the pain. There was a chance Buttercup never would.

Bubbles buzzed her lips to distract herself as she took her emergency Chemical-X from her suitcase and slipped it into her purse. It was best she kept it close to her. She had no idea of knowing what could happen.

She was asleep when Boomer came out of the shower. Bubbles had curled up on the bed. She looked adorable. Boomer moved as quietly as he could. His hand rested on the doorknob. He knew he should leave. He had no reason to stay. Just being here put her in danger. He knew that. He knew he should leave. She shifted a moment later.

"If you leave now, you really will be the Dumb and the Dumbest, Rowdy," she murmured, not bothering to open her eyes. "You're hurt. Get over here and rest." He didn't need much more convincing. He was so tired, and she had left half the bed empty for him. Boomer moved toward the bed. She shifted to move the covers aside. There was a strangeness that washed over him. How many nights had he dreamed of laying at her side? How many nights had he spent dreaming of the way her hair fell around her shoulders? Or the lightning strike that was her eyes? He settled down next to her .

"Don't look so scared, Boomer. I don't bite." That little smile playing on her face made his heart flutter. He closed his eyes, hoping he could get any sleep with her right there.

Bubbles loved the number of cafes she could find in New York. In her arms she was carrying so many muffins, and scones, and bagels that she wasn't sure she and Boomer would be able to eat them all. She bustled about the New York streets humming quietly to herself. That was when she spotted the motorcycle. The paint job caught her attention. There were green flames dancing along the fuel tank. Amongst the flames was the figure of a young woman. Her features were lost in the shadows dancing on her skin but her eyes blazed on their own. Those eyes were the exact same shade of fearless green as Buttercup's eyes. Bubbles tilted her head, looking for the signature of the artist.

"He doesn't sign his work," A woman's voice chirped. She was clad in biker leather and held a coffee cup in her hand. "He never signs, but it's hard to mistake him for anyone else."

"The paint job is incredible!" Bubbles beamed. The woman grinned.

"Cost me an arm and a leg, but it looks killer. I originally just wanted flames." The woman took a swig of her drink. "When it comes to this guy though, you get what he gives you, and he was not going to be talked out of putting the chick on it." Bubbles blinked at the fuel tank. The art truly was exceptional. It was rendered with such care that she didn't even think the great painters of the Renaissance could compete. She couldn't get over the eyes. It felt like her sister was here in New York staring at her.

"What is the artist's name?" Bubbles asked. The woman laughed.

"He doesn't give out his name; you gotta stop by his shop if you want any information on him. Guy does tattoos, as well." The woman pulled down the hem of her shirt to reveal lightning covering her upper torso. In the shadows of the lightning strikes it seemed as if a woman danced in them. The silhouette stretched out her arms in elegance. The only feature that was discernible was pale pink lips parted as the lightning around her gave her body form. The figure was powerful and serene, but a sense of longing washed over Bubbles. There was a sadness in the ink. A desire for something she couldn't name. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

"Oh my gosh! I've never wanted a tattoo so much in my entire life," Bubbles squealed. She had never entertained the thought of tattoos. No one could manage to pierce her skin with the needle, but the intricacy of the lightning dancer sparked a wanting in Bubbles. She wanted to bare such elegant art on her own skin. "Can you give me the address?"

Boomer bolted awake at the explosion of energy when Bubbles returned to the hotel room. Her hair bounced in the sunlight as she practically fluttered around the room.

"I'm getting a motorcycle!" She cheered. Boomer blinked.

"What?" He asked. Bubbles shoved a muffin in his face.

"I'm getting a motorcycle, come on, let's go."

"Wait hold on! Those guys from last night will be looking all over for me," Boomer protested. Bubbles paused, then a sneaky smile crept onto her face. He felt his face go red knowing she'd be able to hear the rapid increase of his heartbeat.

"Don't worry, Rowdy, I'll protect you." She seemed unaware of just how close she was. Boomer bit his lip as he cursed silently to himself. Her hands gripped his arms and he didn't think he'd ever felt such a warm grasp. He felt himself longing to close the small distance between his lips and hers. She stepped away gently. "Let's go, I wanna get myself a Motorcycle! Oh, Blossom is gonna freak, and Buttercup is going to be so jealous!" Boomer smiled softly to himself. He just hoped they weren't going to his motorcycle shop. Those were demons she didn't need to meet.

Evidently, he didn't need to worry. Bubbles got so distracted by store windows and sales that by the time she was ready to look for the shop, it was dinner time and she let her stomach lead them to their next stop. Boomer wasn't complaining, she had excellent taste in food. They were at a small korean joint that served the best korean barbeque Boomer had ever had.

"I didn't even know this place was here!" Boomer moaned as he took a bite of his food. Bubbles giggled.

"This is your city, Boomer, you should know how to find good food." She had a smear of sauce on her cheek. He had been a bit surprised when Bubbles had dug into her food with no restraints. She didn't seem concerned with appearances, so far from the girl he'd secretly taken to dinner all those years ago. They'd both lied to their siblings to sneak away and go out. "I've found that there's more important things in life than being concerned with what I look like when I eat." Bubbles wiped her mouth. He hadn't realized he was staring. "I just think I'm worth more than someone who judges on how a girl eats. I am worth all the love in the world." Boomer blinked.

"I wasn't judging," he said. She looked at him. That sneaky smile of hers had returned.

"I know, but I thought you should know that I'm not that shy girl you stole glances at back then. I'm not a kid, I've grown up and I know my worth." She leaned her elbows on the table as she looked at him. Those eyes were like lightning waiting to strike.

"I'm not the same kid I was back then either," he managed. He felt like she was accusing him of something. He just didn't know what it was. Her eyes trailed his body slowly.

"I know," she teased. Her eyes held mischief. "You're much hotter. I never thought you'd pull off the bad boy look, that was Butch's deal, but I think he may have to give up his throne." He felt his face go red. She laughed. "All seriousness, Boomer, I can tell you're different. You walked away from your brothers and that takes a lot of courage to admit when your family isn't good for you. I respect that. It looks to me that you know your worth too." Boomer didn't return her smile. He did know his worth. He knew what he deserved, and it wasn't to have such a beautiful woman staring at him.

"Rowdy, do you know your worth?" She asked. Boomer met her gaze. There was so much kindness in those eyes. So much kindness that he wanted to give into them. He forced a smile.

"Of course," He said. He hated how naturally his tongue curled around the lie. Boomer cleared his throat. "If we wanna get your bike tomorrow, I should drop you off at your hotel room so you can get some sleep."

"Why aren't you turning the engine off?" She asked when they'd stopped in front of her hotel.

"I was heading home?" Boomer replied. Her hands reached forward and gently tugged at the collar of her shirt.

"That's ridiculous," she said softly. "You said those guys will be looking for you everywhere. Your place is the worst place for you to go. Come on, you can sleep here again." Her fingers were cool where they brushed against his neck. Boomer wondered if she knew just how intoxicating her touch was. He felt like he was floating with just the brush of her fingertips. Just the thought of what it might feel like if her hands trailed along his body was enough to get someone high. He killed the engine.

Bubbles felt electricity spark through her where her fingers brushed his bare skin. Heavens, it felt like she was soaring just with the little contact. She knew she was being smart by telling him to stay. He couldn't go home. Those men would be waiting for him. The desire for him to stay however, had nothing to do with his safety, and more to do with not wanting those dark eyes of his to go. She'd always marveled at the way his eyes were so dark that the blueness of them nearly vanished at night. Forcing her hands to let him go when he'd killed the engine was surprisingly one of the most difficult things she'd ever done. As they walked up to her room his hands hung at his sides and she fought the urge to take them in her own. Climbing into bed beside him, she ignored the urge to curl into his side. Boomer was her great temptation. The temptation she had had all her life, but she had learned not to indulge in. She'd done that once and he'd lost the Chemical-X in his veins. He didn't seem to have much else left to lose. She couldn't bear to do him anymore harm. Long after he'd fallen asleep she lay awake and studied his face. That little scar she'd given him so long ago seemed silver in the moonlight. She had given him a scar when he'd still been superpowered. She would never forget just how hard she'd hit him. Sometimes, she still felt the ache in her hand from that punch. Yes, he was her great temptation, but she was his great destruction.

He borrowed one of her sweaters the next day. She tried to steady her heartbeat. The blue cashmere made his edges softer. His eyes lost a little of their darkness. She'd never thought someone could look so enticing. He was like her own personal brand of heroine. Bubbles busied herself by looking through her purse as he ordered coffee at the little cafe they'd stopped at. He'd pulled his hair into a half up half down look and Bubbles had cursed everything that was holy. It simply wasn't fair. He was just so damn attractive.

"What are you doing?" Boomer asked. Bubbles was certain she was flushed bright red as she realized she was staring.

"Just trying to think of what I want for breakfast," she squeaked. She redirected her eyes to the pastry cabinet. "It's a tough question." He shrugged and seemed convinced.

"So why the sudden urge to get a motorcycle?" Boomer asked after Bubbles had chosen a raspberry danish.

"I saw this really cool paint job on one and I found out the artist only does motorcycles or tattoos. I wanted a tattoo, except with my skin I can't do that, so motorcycle it was!" She beamed. Something shifted in his eyes. He didn't say anything beyond that. They had left his bike at the hotel opting to walk. The sun was out and Bubbles marveled at the way his hair seemed to be woven of strands of gold.

"Where is this motorcycle shop?" He asked her. She blinked before looking around them. With her heightened eyesight she spotted the street they needed to turn on three blocks away. Without thinking Bubbles grabbed his hand and led him along. The sensation of his palm pressed against her sent Bubbles reeling. It wasn't the good kind of reeling. She was suddenly seventeen again. Bright red eyes burned in her mind with terrifying anger. Smoke billowed out of his nose as the fire heated within his chest. The holler of rage at the sight of hands held tight. She heard Blossom scream as lightning burned her skin. The smell of cooked flesh. The sweat that had clung to Blossom as she'd been rushed to the hospital. There were two pairs of green eyes filled with confusion and concern, but ultimately being pulled apart by ties of blood. Bubbles let go of his hand. He didn't react. They walked in silence.

When they were half a block away Boomer's face went pale. His eyes zipped back and forth.

"Bubbles, we have to turn back. We can't go to this shop." He caught her wrist. Bubbles turned back to him.

"What? Why?" She asked. He swallowed.

"We just can't," He insisted. That was when Bubbles realized it was too late. Her eyes caught on to the well hidden figures that had closed in around them. They were surrounded. She planted her feet. She could take them. There were what looked like fifteen of them. It wouldn't be a breeze, but she could take them.

"Boomer," She let her voice go low. The warning she knew she'd placed in her eyes radiated toward the men. "Run." She dodged the first punch with ease. She sidestepped and tripped the first attacker. Her muscles readied for the excitement of a fight. Boomer was no longer in her line of vision. Good, she thought, he ran. Bubbles fell into the familiar sensation of taking and giving punches. She kicked, punched, and spun. Bubbles watched every move her opponents made just like Blossom had taught her. Number eight had a slight limp. Number eleven favored his right side. Number three had a switchblade that he thought would do damage on her. She smiled to herself. Silly little boy, she was a Powerpuff it took more than a switchblade to hurt her. She heard the click of someone removing the safety on a gun. Her blood ran cold. A gun might do something to her. Bubbles didn't have time to locate the weapon before someone had called her name and a shot rang out. The body hit her back a second later. Bubbles stumbled forward as she turned to see the smoke of a gun barrel. At her feet lay Boomer. She screamed.

"Boomer!" Her hands flew to the bleeding wound. Pressing down on the wound would stop the bleeding right? That's what they did on all the crime shows Buttercup watched. She looked around her. The attackers were closing in. Bubbles sucked in a breath ready to unleash a sonic scream.

"Everyone back the fuck up! Why the hell is there a gun firing on my street?" The surrounding ring of people parted. A tall man appeared in the space created. His inhumanly dark green eyes widened. There wasn't much else of a reaction on Butch's face. He halted where he was. Bubbles looked up at him.

"Butch! Please," she begged. A hand grabbed her wrist. Boomer coughed.

"Oh fuck, this hurts," Boomer managed through gritted teeth. "You need to run." Bubbles shook her head.

"I'm not leaving you!" She cried. "Butch, help me." Butch still hadn't moved. He was staring down at his bleeding brother. Bubbles wasn't sure she'd survive the twisting of her heartstrings as Boomer coughed again. His face was getting pale. The bullet had to have hit something crucial. There was no other that he'd be getting cold so quickly. Bubbles looked up a Butch, her eyes pleading. He didn't move a muscle.

"What do you want us to do, boss?" Number five asked. Finally, there was a reaction from Butch.

"Why in the hell, was there a gun on my street?" Butch seethed. "I thought I was very clear that this was a no guns block." Number five stepped back.

"Boss, your brother was very clear that Boomer wasn't allowed back on the block. And this chick just went batshit crazy on us." Bubbles felt Boomer grabbing at her shirt. She looked down at him. She could feel Butch's eyes on them.

"Get out of here," Boomer said. There was sweat covering his brow. He didn't look good.

"I'm not leaving you," she whispered.

"You have to run, please. You're not safe, he'll know you're here."

"I don't care who knows I'm here, I'm not leaving you."

"Please, Bubbles!" Boomer coughed. Butch froze.

"Bubbles?" He hissed. She looked up at him. Had he not recognized her until now?

"Boss," Number five said. Butch grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled Number five within a inch of his face.

"You speak of this to no one. Brick doesn't find out, am I understood?" Butch demanded.

"Boss, we gotta report to Brick," Number seven chimed in.

"No one speaks of this to anyone!" Butch roared. "If even so much as an inkling gets to Brick I will personally see to it that you never see the light of day again. Am. I. Under. Stood?" The green eyed Rowdyruff carefully dragged his eyes over each of the attackers.

"Understood," Number five squeaked. Butch flung him to the side.

"Good, now get out of my sight," He ordered as he knelt down next to Bubbles and his brother. "Shit, Boomer, you really got yourself fucked up." Boomer grabbed at Butch's shirt.

"You gotta get her outta here," Boomer begged. Butch took his hand.

"Brick won't find out she's here, I promise," Butch promised as he moved some hair from Boomer's face. "Just try to relax."

"Did someone call 911?" Bubbles asked. Her heart was in the bottom of her stomach. She couldn't let Boomer die. He had to know. He had to know. She needed to tell him that he was the love of her life and telling him while he was covered in blood felt a cash out. He needed to know. He needed to live so he could be the love of her entire life.

"No one's coming, Bubbles," Butch spoke so calmly that it took a moment for her to realize the gravity of his words. She blinked through her tears.

"What?" She gasped.

"Look at how much blood he's lost," Butch said. "There's no coming back from this." No. He had to be lying. A cold despair swept over her as she remembered that Butch Jojo was many things; A liar had never been one of them. Butch was honest to a fault. That was something Buttercup had loved about him.

There had to be something Bubbles could do for Boomer. There had to be some way to save him. Something. Something. Anything. She couldn't fight the violent sobs consuming her. Boomer tried to wipe the tears from her cheeks, but all that did was smear blood onto her face. Bubbles hated that he was trying to comfort her. He was the one bleeding out. She was supposed to cry over him. She hadn't cried this hard since he'd lost his Chemi-. Bubbles stopped crying abruptly. There was a way to save him. Chemical-X. She had the emergency dose in her purse. She fumbled through her purse frantically. The second her fingers brushed the bottle Butch leapt forward. His hand closed over hers.

"Not here," he hissed looking around. "Where are you staying?"

"A-a few blocks away," Bubbles sputtered. Butch swept Boomer up in his arms.

"We can't have anyone on these streets seeing that," Butch said. Bubbles scrambled to her feet. "Get us to wherever you're staying, then you can save my brother's life." Boomer coughed as his head lulled into Butch's chest. Bubbles nodded and took off running. She doubted she'd ever run so fast. Butch's feet were a steady sound following her. Hotel staff turned a blind eye when Bubbles glared at anyone who thought to question their bursting into the luxury hotel with a bloodied man in tow. The worst moment was when her hands wouldn't stop shaking to unlock her room.

"Oh fuck it!" She screeched. Bubbles kicked in the door. Butch didn't waste any time putting Boomer down on the bed. Bubbles cursed as her hands wouldn't stop shaking long enough to fill a syringe with Chemical-X.

"Give it to me," Butch said. He took the bottle and syringe from her hands gently. A few moments later, the chemical had been injected into Boomer's arm. Bubbles scrambled onto the bed and cradled Boomer's head in her lap.

"Come on, Rowdy, please," she begged. His skin stayed pale and cold. No. No. No. He'd gotten Chemical-X. He couldn't die. He couldn't. She hadn't told him yet. At some point on the way to her room he had closed his eyes. Her heart felt like it was being ripped out. She'd been so busy running she hadn't even noticed him close his eyes. Now he'd never open them again. She cried. Bubbles sobbed until the sun had long set. "Boomer, please." A heavy hand rested on her shoulder. She looked up at the tear blurred face of Butch. She could faintly make out the paint stains on his clothing underneath all the blood.

"Bubbles," Butch spoke. His voice was thick.

"She still loves you," Bubbles blurted out. His face twisted in confusion.

"What?"

"Buttercup, she'll never admit it, but I can tell. She still loves you," Bubbles cried. A softness crossed over Butch's pained features.

"Why are you telling me?" Butch asked. He looked down at his brother's lifeless face. There was so much torment on his own that Bubbles wondered if he'd ever feel anything else again.

"Because, if that was your artwork I saw on that motorcycle, then you're still in love with her, and," Bubbles sniffed. Is this what it feels like to die on the inside? She thought as she looked down at Boomer's face. "At least one of us deserves to be with the person they love before it's too late. Go back, go back to Townsville." Butch leaned forward and planted a kiss onto Boomer's temple. There was so much pain in his eyes, but so much softness. She'd never seen such softness on the Rowdyruff boy's face. Bubbles buried her own face in Boomer's chest. When she looked back up Butch was gone. She cried in her empty hotel room. She no longer liked the feeling of being alone in a big city.

"Bubbles." Her voice came out so soft that even with super-hearing she thought she'd imagined it. Her eyes darted up. In the pale moonlight he seemed almost like a ghost. For a moment she didn't think was real, but his eyes held such emotion that he had to be alive. No ghost could have that much feeling. "Bubbles," he said again, this time louder.

"Boomer!" She yelled as she flung her arms around him. A small laugh escaped her. Boomer's arms wrapped around her. They held her fast. A soft sigh left Boomer.

"Bubbles," he repeated and suddenly this city didn't seem so big, or so unfamiliar.

The morning came too early for Bubbles as she realized her flight left in a few hours back to Townsville. She crept out of bed. Boomer still lay sound asleep. Bubbles slipped into the shower. In their exhaustion from the day, neither she nor Boomer had taken a moment to wash up. Her clothes were stiff with dried blood and her cheeks were colored a rusty brown where he'd brushed the tears away. With a sigh Bubbles tossed her clothes into the garbage. She couldn't return home with clothes covered in blood. Blossom would ask too many questions. Bubbles wasn't sure how much of the last few days she'd tell her sisters. She was pretty certain she was going to leave out the being covered in blood part.

Boomer woke up to the sound of crying. He could hear it so clearly that it nearly gave him a migraine. He'd forgotten how much super hearing could affect someone. The young man sat up and followed the sound to the bathroom. His body felt sore but his wounds had healed otherwise as he tapped the door gently.

"Bubbles?" He called. He heard a sniff muted by the sound of running water. Why was she crying in the shower? "Are you okay?"

"C-come in," she said softly. He hesitated a moment then heard another sniff. He opened the door to find her sitting on the bottom of the shower. She rubbed viscously against her skin. "I can't get it off." He wasn't sure what she meant until he caught a glance of his own skin in the mirror. The blood stains.

"Here," Boomer said, stepping into the shower with his clothes still on. He lifted her to her feet and took the bar of soap from her hand. He rubbed the soap onto her skin. The water and blood mixed, leaving them standing in a pool of disturbing pink. "Look, it's coming out just fine. You're okay." He pressed their foreheads together at the look in her eyes. "We're both okay." Her fingers moved gently to the hem of the sweater he was wearing. A minute later and they were both naked. There was nothing arousing about it. Boomer looked at the sadness on her face as she rubbed the soap into his chest. The soapy bubbles were colored a deep pink with blood. He wiped at her cheeks trying to return them to their usual blush.

"Come home with me," she said softly. He pushed her hair out of her face.

"I can't," he replied. Hurt crossed her features. "I want to, Bubbles, but I have something I have to do first." She nodded.

"Okay, I'll push back my flight." He tilted her chin up. She was so close. Her lips were merely inches from his. All he had to do was lean in and kiss her. All he had ever wanted to do was lean in and kiss her.

"No," he whispered. "You should go home, see your sisters. I'll come as soon as I can. I don't know how long it'll take me." Bubbles closed her eyes as she leaned into his shoulder.

"Okay," her voice was so soft. "But if I don't hear from you I'm coming back here and kicking New York City's collective ass. Understood?" He laughed.

"Understood." He pulled her close into a hug.

Butch's shop was closed so Boomer let himself in. It was quieter than it had ever been. Boomer couldn't remember the last time the shop had been so silent. He glanced at the art displayed on the walls. Paintings and drawings of natural elements or disasters all boasted a woman hiding within them. All her features were never displayed in one artwork, it was only ever one detail. She was rendered with such accuracy that it only took one those features to know who this entire wall was a practical shrine for. Buttercup had been the only person Butch had dreamed of. As far as Boomer knew Butch hadn't dated in their years away from Townsville. Butch hadn't even partaken in hook-ups like Boomer had. There was only one person that ever attracted Butch like that and she was back in Townsville.

Boomer found his brother drinking in the corner looking at the wall. He was half covered in shadow. On the floor lay shattered pieces of glass and several broken chairs. Butch didn't look away from the wall when Boomer sat down next to him. The blond could see the bruises covering his brother's knuckles. Butch had always dealt with pain in two different ways; adding to his Buttercup shrine or violence. It seemed he'd dealt with Boomer nearly dying the violent way.

"Glad to see you aren't dead," Butch said. He offered Boomer a beer. The two brothers sat there and drank. They didn't speak for several hours.

"I'm going back to Townsville," Boomer broke the silence as Butch handed him another beer. His brother grunted. "I want you to come with me." It was silent for a moment.

"Why would I do that?" Butch asked, cocking a eyebrow.

"Dude, we've been staring at your Buttercup shrine for the last three hours," Boomer argued. All he got in response was a shrug.

"Where are you going to get the cash for a cross country move? Or are you planning on sleeping on the streets when you get there?" The voice filled the room with heat. Boomer turned to see Brick in the doorway. His blood ran cold. It was clear that Brick himself had seen a fight today. His lip was split open and his hands covered in black and blue. "Or are you forgetting your debt?"

"I don't owe anyone any money," Boomer said. If Brick had still had his powers smoke would be pouring out of his nose. "That's you, Brick. Besides, you don't even want me here."

"Careful, Dumbass," Brick warned. Those red eyes of his looked dangerous. "I've already had to deal with one idiot today." Butch lifted a beer to his lips. "You aren't leaving New York."

"Brick, I want to go home."

"What you want is to go crawling back to that Powerpuff pussy," his red haired brother spat.

"Don't call her that!" Boomer yelled.

"That's why you're going back to Townsville," Brick continued. "You're selling out your family for-"

"Bullshit! We haven't been family in years. Never once have you acted like a real brother. I didn't break my arm last year falling down the stairs." Boomer watched the anger in Brick's demeanor grow.

"I'd choose your next words very carefully," Brick seethed. Boomer opened his mouth to argue. Finally, Butch moved. He stood up, moving out of the shadows. The right side of his face was beaten badly. His eye was swollen shut.

"Boomer, it's no use. Nobody's leaving New York." Butch sounded resigned. The sadness crept into his shoulders. They slumped just the tiniest bit. "Let's all just take a breather."

"Like hell it's no use! Butch, you never wanted to leave Townsville. You told us you didn't want to leave and we did. You've spent the last seven years miserable and pining over Buttercup, because I wasn't brave enough to tell Brick that he could suck a dick!" Boomer yelled. "Then I left and you felt some sense of responsibility to him. But I'm sick of being alone! I'm sick of seeing you staring at this damn wall. I'm sick of us wasting our lives trying to help a brother that hasn't been our brother since we were children. He's just like Mojo and Him. Brick is a villain with no redemption, but there's hope for us! I know my worth! I'm worthy of feeling something that isn't this hollowness. You're worthy of more than spending your life drawing a woman you'll never touch. So don't tell me there's no use. I will fight until I die to go home." Everything went still for a moment as Butch stared at him. His green eyes showed every emotion that was churning around inside Boomer. Butch didn't move. All he did was stare. Cruel laughter filled the room.

"How touching," Brick mocked. "I must say I'm really touched by your words." No one moved a muscle as Brick made his way over to Boomer. Their faces were inches apart. "Do you want me to be the villain? Because I can be the villain." The click of the gun sounded. Butch dove into action but stopped a second later. Boomer had grabbed the barrel of the gun and crushed it in his grip. Brick and Butch stared.

"How?" Brick asked wide eyed.

"When your boy shot me yesterday Bubbles had to give me a dose of Chemical-X." Boomer flung the useless gun to the floor. "Thanks for proving me right though. Now, if you'll excuse me, my brother and I are going home." He shoved Brick out of his way. Butch quietly grabbed the keys to his motorcycle as he followed Boomer out of the shop.

"We're really leaving?" Butch asked as the two brothers got on their respective bikes.

"Yeah," Boomer smiled. He suddenly felt very light. Butch grinned. Boomer hadn't seen him smile in so long.

"Let's go home, shall we?"

Bubbles had been home for two weeks with no word from Boomer. She hadn't mentioned a word of his appearance to her family. She didn't want them to worry that she'd gotten herself into trouble the moment she'd left Townsville. Bubbles went through her normal activities constantly looking to the doorway in hopes of seeing him. Everytime she didn't see him she worried a little more.

Blossom and Buttercup watched their sister move like a zombie. Bubbles hadn't been her usual self since she'd come back from New York. The two sisters had made a point for at least one of them to stop by Bubbles' apartment everyday. They were getting worried. She just moved around in a daze. She'd started a painting, but hadn't let them see the work in progress like she was prone to.

"Dude, it's like she's straight out of the Walking Dead. Maybe the zombie apocalypse has started," Buttercup said as she and Blossom sat at their favorite coffee shop. Normally, Bubbles would be at the table with them talking excitedly about some new art project she was working on. Today, she was still curled up in bed.

"Do you think something happened in New York?" Blossom asked. Buttercup sighed.

"What on Earth could have happened at a bunch of art museums that would have resulted in this?" Buttercup leaned back in her chair. The roar of motorcycles turned down the street. The green eyed Powerpuff didn't turn to look at the sound. She closed her eyes for a moment. "Do you think she's having a crisis because she thinks she's not as good as that Da Vini dude?"

"It's Da Vinci, and I highly doubt that." Blossom sounded distracted. Buttercup heard the motorcycle engines die. She opened her eyes to look at her sister. Blossom was blatantly staring at something behind her.

"The hell are you staring at, Pinky?" Buttercup asked. Her sister pointed to just over her shoulder. Buttercup groaned as she turned around. "What is someone wearing misma-" Her words escaped her. The motorcycles had stopped at the bakery a couple shops over. The bikers hadn't seemed to spot them. Buttercup's feet moved of their own free will.

"Hey Jackass!" She screamed. The bikers finally turned to her. It was like that moment in all of Bubbles' tacky romance movies. He turned to look at her and everything stopped mattering. Her heart hammered in her chest.

"Buttercup," he said. He had no right to sound so painstakingly the same. She stopped a few feet away from him. Butch blinked. His right eye had the tell tale colors of a fading black eye. There was suddenly someone in this world that she wanted to hit more than she wanted to hit Butch. They stared at each other as Blossom approached and gripped her sister's arm.

"Boomer, what are you two doing back in town?" Blossom asked.

"We wanted to come home," Butch said. His gaze hadn't left Buttercup's. There was burning anger in her eyes, but it was quickly giving way to hurt.

"You left," her voice came out strained.

"I thought it would be better that way," Butch said.

"You were wrong!" Buttercup shouted. Passerbys gave her curious looks. "No one in the history of the world has ever been so wrong!"

"I know," Butch said. "I'm sorry."

"That's not good enough!" Buttercup huffed.

"If it'll help he's spent the last seven years drawing you like some love sick puppy," Boomer chimed in. Butch turned to his brother.

"Dude."

"Sorry, just trying to help."

"Don't try to help, you're making me seem like a pervert." Butch's face was beat red.

"Hey! I'm trying to yell at you for leaving, stop arguing with your brother," Buttercup yelled. Both brothers turned back to her. Her eyes were rimmed with pink.

"Shit, please don't cry," Butch said. He held up his hands.

"Fuck you! I will cry if I want," Buttercup huffed. "I'm emotionally conflicted right now."

"Buttercup," Blossom said softly.

"Shut up. I'm yelling at Butch for leaving," Buttercup snapped. Blossom let go of her sister's arm in surrender.

"Boomer, you want breakfast? I'll get you something while Buttercup yells at Butch for leaving." Blossom grabbed Boomer's wrist and sped them into the bakery.

"You can yell all you want, I kind of earned it," Butch said.

"I am well aware that I can yell all I want! You left with no warning; couldn't even be bothered to tell me in a text message." Buttercup placed her hands on her hips. "And seven years! Seven years you had to call me. I didn't change my phone number in all this time so that you could reach me. Also, you could have very well have sent a letter. The United States has this really cool thing called the postal service for just that reason! It's super easy you just write your letter, stick it in an envelope, slap an address and stamp on it and viola! In 3-7 business days I'd know if you were okay. Stop laughing, I'm yelling at you." Buttercup's anger was undercut by her own laughter.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I really am, but I never thought I'd hear you angrily lecture someone on how the postal service works." Butch bit his fist to keep from laughing too hard. Buttercup's face flushed bright red.

"Stop laughing!" Buttercup grabbed him by the collar. The laughter left his face as their eyes locked. "I thought you'd moved on. That you'd never wanted me." Her voice was quiet in a way Butch hoped no one else had gotten to hear.

"There's no moving on from you, Utonium," he said. "I can't imagine a life where I didn't want you."

"Evidently, there's no moving on from you either, Jojo" She said. Her bright eyes looked up at his face. Butch couldn't bare it any longer. He took her face in his hands and kissed her. For one terrifying moment she didn't move, then her arms wrapped around his waist. She tasted like coffee and happiness.

Boomer thanked Blossom for breakfast as they watched their siblings kiss.

"My pleasure," Blossom said. "I'm glad they solved this without any property damage. Do you remember when they got in that argument about who was the best basketball player in the league?"

"Yeah, neither of those players were even in the league." Boomer and Blossom shared a laugh.

"You here for Bubbles?" Blossom asked.

"Yeah."

"Just a warning, she went on a trip a few weeks ago and she's not her usual self." Blossom tucked some hair behind her ear. "She might not be how you remember her."

"I just saw her in New York," Boomer offered. Blossom's eyes widen. "Shit got bad, where's her apartment?"

"You remember where old Mrs. Keller used to live?" Blossom asked.

"Yeah."

"That's the place," She smiled. "Now go see my sister." She gave Boomer a wink before settling her purse on her shoulder and turning to head home. Blossom had a feeling her sisters were going to be busy for a few days.

A knock sounded on her door. Bubbles rolled her eyes. Her sisters were not as subtle as they thought they were with their daily visits. She pondered in her head which sibling it was as she opened the door.

"What is it n-" her words died in her chest. Boomer stood before her. His hair was an absolute mess from the wind. She squealed.

"Boomer!" Her arms were around him before she'd even finished saying his name. He laughed as he held her tight giving her a little spin.

"Bubbles," He whispered as he placed her on the ground again. "I'm sorry it took so long. Butch had a really bad black eye so we couldn't drive too fast because he had absolutely no depth perseption and also driving cross-country on a motorcycle is not that comfortable."

"All that matters is you're here and you're safe. Speaking of Butch," Bubbles said and pulled him into her apartment. She bounced over to a canvas with a sheet over it. With child-like enthusiasm she tore away the cover. Boomer stopped. On the canvas was himself. His painted self leaned against a motorcycle with the sunlight bouncing off the chrome. He was leaning with his hands in his pockets and looking off to the side. Boomer half expected the painting to start breathing. "What do you say? Do you think I reached Butch's level of skill?"

"Butch's art is shit compared to this," Boomer said. "But I may be biased because it's you." She laughed.

"I'm glad you like it. Now come here," her lips curled around the words in the most enticing way Boomer had ever seen. He obliged her. She felt perfect in his arms. She felt even more perfect when she tilted her head up and kissed him. Boomer had never felt this way before. She surrounded him with nothing more than her lips against his. He tangled his hands in her hair and kissed her like he'd never kissed anyone. When they split for air Bubbles curled her arms around his neck. "What are you still doing in those clothes, biker boy?"

"I have no idea," he said against her lips.

"I guess we'll have to remedy that?" She laughed. Boomer kissed her again. He was finally home.