Heightened Tensions- Chapter 20

It was one of the quiet nights in the hospital. Not many people stirred in their rooms or the hallways. The light was dim, casting gray shadows throughout the corridors, jumping and twisting as the few late-night doctors and nurses moved past, disturbing the calm serenity of the darkened atmosphere. The air was hushed and cool, chilled over from the breeze of many open windows, whispering gently with the calm hush of lowered voices, broken only by the randomly placed calls of the singing intercom. It was quiet, the middle of the night, or early morning if you wanted to be technical, and most in the hospital ward were snoozing. All except for Blossom and the professor.

They sat quietly together for a long time, neither of them able to think of the appropriate words that would match the mood. They were confused and exhausted, emotionally battered beyond the point of recognition. It had been a long bumpy road with Buttercup, and the one shred of hope they could both pull from this madness was the fact that maybe it was all over.

Buttercup was fine. At that moment she was sleeping soundly, her face the most relaxed either of them had seen in months. Her body had quickly regained its strength as soon as she'd been stabilized, her wrists now wrapped tightly in thick bandages to cover the threads that were pulling her skin back together. At first it had been chaos as soon as Blossom had burst into the emergency room, pleading for help as she dragged her sister through the sliding doors. Blossom wondered if it had been the exact same commotion when Buttercup had dragged her in; loud, confusing, chaotic… surreal.

But soon everything had calmed, the only sound lingering the hushed voices of the other occupants as the story of what happened spread. One of the Powerpuff Girls had been admitted into the emergency room, one of them was hurt, maybe even dead; one of them had failed, somewhere, somehow. Blossom knew it wouldn't take long for the news to spread to the media.

Bubbles… wherever you are… maybe you'll see it… maybe you'll hear…

Her sister had been missing in action ever since Him had told her what had been going on. Bubbles had disappeared, and neither Blossom nor the professor had the faintest idea where she would be. The first thought that had popped into Blossom's head had been to call Dexter, but then she'd realized that she didn't even know his phone number. Only Bubbles knew that.

The professor had arrived moments later at the hospital, and had found Blossom waiting for him at the entryway, her face almost breaking into relief. The hard part was over, and now they had to wait. It was all they could do. They sat down in the lobby for a while, quiet at first, but then they began discussing Bubbles and what to do about her absence. As far as they knew, she didn't know about Buttercup, and assuming she would want to know, they had to figure out a way to find her. Finally they decided they would wait until the morning, until Buttercup was stabilized, and then Blossom would journey to Dexter's house to ask him if he'd talked to her or seen her. She at least knew where he lived. having walked there once with Bubbles on her own way to the grocery store. Bubbles had run away, why, they weren't sure, but they both figured that he would be the first person she'd go to.

Soon after a nurse came to greet them, her face pleasant, a good sign that everything was okay. She had the brightest blue eyes Blossom had ever seen, with long blonde hair pulled back to match. She was tall, with the long slender legs of a dancer, her body gliding with the grace of someone who had been trained to move with poise and beauty. As she moved towards them, her eyes sparkling with the good news, Blossom thought for just a split second she was looking at someone very familiar. It was like she'd seen her before, or perhaps another member of her family without even realizing it. Those startling blue eyes were very familiar, but Blossom soon forgot about it as soon as the nurse opened her mouth.

And there they were, sitting next to their green-eyed girl while she slept. They were allowed to stay with her, and Blossom preferred that, because she knew she wouldn't have been able to stand that lobby for another minute. People were staring, their faces betraying a mood of curiosity that she was sure the entire city was feeling right now, at least the people who knew. They had to come up with something to tell the press, because they sure as hell couldn't tell the truth.

So there they sat, watching Buttercup sleep as the minutes rolled by. Blossom had been staring at the ECG for the last hour, watching the bright blip trace the movement of Buttercup's heart, remembering when she'd seen her own heart on that screen. It was strong, mirroring the real Buttercup that Blossom knew was still there, just waiting to come back out. Buttercup was the fighter, she'd always been, and what had happened was almost too unbelievable to seem possible. That was why the whole ordeal had barely passed over Blossom's mind a second time. It was just too strange, too horrifying… and coincidental to have even happened at all. Why, why had she tried to end her life?

Buttercup moved, whimpering softly in her sleep as she let her head droop to one side of the pillow. Blossom broke her attention from the monitor and stared into Buttercup's face, absent-mindedly tracing the lines of her features with her eyes. The round curves of her thin, well-kept brows framed the graceful arch of her just slightly sloping eyes; eyelashes like the wisps of fine, blackened threads, caressing defined cheeks that lacked the remnants of sweet baby-fat she'd had left over from her younger, more adolescent and torturous years. Blossom looked deeper into her face, studying the flow of her round lips, the definition of her hardened jaw, the delicate flatness of her nose; finally actually seeing everything that made her who she was, a single shred of her features that she saw in her father almost every day, and even saw in herself.

But there was something else, a very exotic look about her that Blossom had never actually seen. But finally able to really see Buttercup, Blossom could now find that something was very different about her in particular. It was the eyes. There was something in the feel and the motion of her eyes, as they spilled like sideways tear drops against her face; something that was not in either her or Bubbles… but it was in the professor.

What it would have meant to lose her, and to never be able to see that face again, alive and breathing. It was too painful to even imagine, and just the mere thought of it brought a tightening to Blossom's throat.

All together she looked stronger, her face lacking the gaunt, sickly quality it had taken on over the past month. It was as if those few minutes of medical help had made all the difference, and as if some strangling hold of a menace had suddenly disappeared, and recovery was underway.

"Professor…" Blossom finally whispered, drawing her finger across the top of Buttercup's hand to secure the thin sliver of tape the shimmered lightly in the shadows. Blossom recognized the needle that was now slipped securely beneath her skin, and felt a familiar prickling in her own hand where it had been.

The professor turned his head to her, his face still visibly upset, but he spoke in a calm, soothing tone.

"Hmm?"

"What happened?" Blossom asked him quietly, shivering in the depressed atmosphere. She'd promised herself she'd never set foot in an emergency room again, but here she was. As minutes passed, it was starting to get to her.

"I… don't really know…"
"No, I mean how… How did she do it, professor? I had always thought we couldn't be hurt that way… not like that… How was she able to do that to herself?" It was a question that had been eating away at her for hours.

When the professor had arrived at the hospital, he'd first been very silent. But after a while Blossom had asked him what happened. Once she'd left he'd stayed home and attempted to clean the mess, but had become so emotionally distraught that he just couldn't continue on. He'd told Blossom what he'd found, that Buttercup had somehow taken the pair of scissor in the bathroom and jabbed open her skin, using all her strength to break through her unnaturally strong epidermis. At first it hadn't occurred to Blossom how this had even been possible. Yet in the silence of Buttercup's hospital room she had been able to let her mind wander, and soon she'd come across the question of how exactly Buttercup had been able to hurt herself with such a mundane object.

"I… I don't really know… unless its true that with your strength… you can inflict damage on yourself with… anything…" his voice died away, signaling the fact that it was a subject too painful to speak of. Blossom agreed, and felt it was as good an answer as she was going to get. Others couldn't hurt them with average things, but with their increased strength… then they could hurt themselves. It was a thought that really wasn't comforting at all.

The professor sighed after another long, awkward pause, and he lazily lifted his hand to peer at his watch. Blossom could tell he was exhausted. She was too, but yet knew she would never be able to fall asleep. There was just an itching intensity inside of her that was burning like hot coals, keeping her mind alert, yet her body still felt increasingly sluggish as the hours wore off. She knew that her father probably felt exactly the same.

He rubbed his face with his hands sleepily, taking a deep breath as he leaned forward in the chair he'd been occupying for hours.

"I'm going to call the house… maybe she went back home…" he said calmly, his voice holding a futile hopefulness that was the only thing keeping him from panicking. They all knew Bubbles could take care of herself, but no matter how hard they had always protested, he always seemed to worry about them. Blossom knew she couldn't blame him, nor could she ever change his mind, and deep down she accepted his sometimes too overprotective nature. He was just doing what father's did best.

The professor stood and left the room silently, his absence almost passing as unnoticed except for the fact that Blossom watched him leave. The room was calmly still, the steady beeping of Buttercup's heart the only real obvious break in the mood, save for the early morning risers that moved about the city beyond the window. The incessant beeping was starting to drive Blossom crazy, and she tried hard to block it from her mind and concentrate on the other sounds coming from the open window.

But it soon became hard, because Blossom became aware of the most peculiar sensation. She could feel eyes on her from somewhere, and there was a piercing stab at her senses as a presence entered the room; not from the doorway. Blossom scowled into her knees.

"Getting a little careless aren't we?" She said into the darkness. The presence drew back with a delighted snicker, but then returned with an even stronger attack against her awareness. Him took shape in the room, and Blossom could feel him behind her. She could almost feel his breath against her neck. Blinking hard, she grimacing with utmost irritation as he moved closer.

"I thought you would have received me a bit more warmly than that. Aren't you thrilled to see me?" he said smoothly, the sweet tones of his voice quiet but penetrating.

"I'm ecstatic."

"See, there you go again, being all defensive. I merely came thinking you would thank me…"

Blossom stood up suddenly, quickly enough to momentarily surprise Him, causing him to step back. She caught her own breath in her throat, startled to see Him so close.

"Thank you?! After what you tried to do to me?!" she raised her voice a bit louder than what would have been necessary, and she shot a hurried glance at Buttercup to make sure she was still sleeping. Out like a light.

His expression wavered into something of blissful unawareness, as if he had no idea what she was talking about. His eyes cast down, making his long, thick black eyelashes visible in the gloomy light. He almost looked sad.

"Yes… you're right… I deeply apologize…"

"Apology not accepted!" and Blossom spun back around and dropped herself back into the chair, looking to the door anxiously, wanting the professor to come back soon so that he could free her from this unbelievably uncomfortable madness. The room went very silent again, and Blossom almost thought Him had left, except for the fact that he decided to move just then, announcing his continued presence.

"Blossom, you know I could have just left your sister to die… but I didn't…" he said quietly, his voice floating towards her from behind. She gritted her teeth, knowing she should be grateful, but she couldn't bring herself to thank the bastard. That would mean she trusted him, and truly appreciated him, but she didn't want that to be the truth at all.

"How did you even know about it anyway? You were spying on us, weren't you?" she said icily, not daring to turn in his direction. There was no answer for a beat, but then Him finally spoke.

"Blossom, you do understand what she was trying to do?"

Blossom didn't reply for a while, flashes of what had happened earlier charging through her brain in spontaneous bursts like a bad dream. She knew exactly what her sister had been trying to do, and the sudden resurgence in that clear thought only brought a stab of anger to her already bitter mind.

"Yes…"

"I knew, simply because of what I am Blossom," and Him finally moved closer, a certain fire in his voice that was full of unrelenting passion. She shuddered at the feel of his natural heat so close to her, but she dared not turn to look, not wanting to invite any unwanted occurrence.

Just go away… just go away…

"Because of who I am… the nature of your sister's act brought her under my watchful eye…"

Professor… where the hell are you?

Blossom trembled, not out of fear, but out of Him's shadowy influence now overpowering her. There was something very commanding about his presence, something very cold and controlling about his voice, no longer high pitched. She didn't know how to react or how to respond, so she continued to stare into her sister's sleeping face, longing desperately for the same kind of escape that Buttercup was now enjoying.

How could I have let myself get in so deep… I can't turn back now…

He has me… I've made myself too open to Him.

"What do you want?" she said pathetically, bringing her knees up to her face and holding herself tightly. She couldn't bare to look into his face, nor could she stand to look into Buttercup's face. All of this was her fault. If she had paid more attention… if she had just tried harder to love her sister, then none of this would have happened at all…

"Blossom, your sister was in the act of committing a crime so hellish, she would have come under my influence forever… Suicide is a mortal sin, Blossom. It is a crime against your own soul… and for that you are punished… for eternity…"

Blossom looked up, back into Buttercup's face again, and almost burst into tears. The thought of her own sister's suffering, her own flesh and blood in tortured turmoil for the rest of all the known days; it was just something she couldn't even begin to understand the magnitude of. It was a torrential storm of confusion that was now raging inside her, looking for ways to escape by means that Blossom could never begin to grasp. Buttercup would have been gone. She would have been dead, her physical form gone forever, but her spiritual form forever in Hell… with Him…

But he had actually done her a favor. He had saved her. Him could have taken Buttercup as his own… and he would have been able to wrestle total control over Blossom's already shamed family. He could have had one of the Powerpuff Girls as his own instrument, his own plaything, as penance for all the pain and anger they'd put him through. It would have been the perfect triumph, a climax to the struggle they'd endured for so many years… but…

Him hadn't let Buttercup finish the gruesome act. His intervention had saved her life… and for that… well, to Blossom she felt it had to mean something. Now she owed him, and a strong feeling in her gut told her that she knew what he wanted.

Blossom stood and turned to face Him, his face carefully obscured by the shadow of the room. He was looking down on her, his lamp-like eyes full of a grace that Blossom could feel boring into her face, bringing her skin aflame. A lump formed in her throat as her mouth went as dry as dust, the incessant stare of his eyes causing her heart to flutter rapidly.

"I… have to ask you something…" Blossom said calmly, her voice small yet strong. She was so very confused, and didn't know what to make of the demon standing before her. Was he out for her blood? Or had he had a change of heart? There were so many conflicting images and memories battling it out in the deep crevices of her judgment, that she had trouble deciphering which was true.

Him didn't reply to her, but remained silent, watching her calmly as his eyes urged her to continue.

"Why did you do it? Why, when you could have gained so much from letting her die?"

"Because I couldn't do that to you…" his voice tapered off into a near whisper, his breath a cool wisp against her skin. His eyes remained on her face, but Blossom turned away, feeling her face turn red with bashful shame at the thoughts that were swimming through her.

"Are you in love with me?" she said very abruptly, but her voice soft like the tiniest chime carried in the wind. She kept her eyes down, not wanting to meet Him's gaze, but some part of her desperately wanted an answer. She wanted some form of closure.

"Love?" he repeated calmly, but there was a certain briskness to his voice that Blossom almost thought bordered on disgust. She felt something inside her sink at his tone, obviously negative, and at the same time she couldn't understand why she was disappointed at all. She had been so sure… yet at the same time he almost seemed to be lying. He was notorious for that.

"I cannot love anyone, Blossom. That is a mortal emotion, a weakness, one I am not subject to feel." His voice wavered, almost to the point of sounding anxious.

"W-what? Then what is it you want from me?! Why have you not left me alone in months?! Why have you tried time and again to… to…" She couldn't finish what she really wanted to say, because she couldn't figure out how to say it without sounding ridiculous. Him snickered softly at her lack of articulation, the sharpness of his teeth clearly visible in the glimmering gloom.

"Because…" he said quietly, leaning in close, causing Blossom to almost fall backwards onto Buttercup's bed. "I merely enjoy your company… and isn't that the natural course of events for you mortal lovers?"

Blossom was completely mortified.

"No!"

"Just because I can't fall in love… doesn't mean I can't enjoy the benefits of… say… a rather comforting relationship…"

She couldn't believe what she was hearing, and now wanted nothing more than to push Him out of the window, just so that she could get him away from her. She wanted nothing to do with him, she wanted him out of her life, and just the thought that he would have used her in such a demeaning way… well it made her insides burn with rage.

"Who ever said we were lovers?! I merely asked out of curiosity if-"

"Now we discuss payment… my dear… I did you a favor… and all I ask for is a small favor in return-"

"If you think I'm going to sleep with you, then-"

"Oh no, no, of course not… I had much smaller things in mind" Him said casually, a flicker of a grin twitching at his lips. He leaned in even closer to her, eyes marking her.

"…Just one kiss… that's all I've really ever wanted… just to see…"

Blossom suddenly felt unbearably warm as her face blushed, her heart beating rapidly inside of her as words failed to serve her. What in the world could she say now? How could she refuse him? She didn't want to kiss him, but knew that he would never give her peace unless she did. From experience, she knew only bad things came from refusing Him's demands. Had all of this time really been for just one kiss? If he could never love anyone, then why would he want to share such a moment of intimacy with her… Unless, it just didn't mean anything to Him. But if that was the case, she didn't want him anywhere near her.

"I…I…" she stuttered shyly, but couldn't string a sentence together before it was too late. Him suddenly jerked forward, pressing his lips onto hers with so much force that she stumbled off of her balance with whimper of surprise. She was falling, and panicked as she realized her sister would wake as soon as her own body hit the sheets, but Him caught her before she fell too far backwards. Blossom pressed her hands against his shoulders in a desperate attempt to push him off, but he only gripped her tighter, holding her firmly around the small of her back with his claws. She squeezed her eyes shut, wanting it to end, wanting to stop the feel of his body up against her own, knowing she could do nothing. But Him drew the last straw as soon as he attempted to part her lips.

With a sudden spark of fear Blossom mustered the strength to shove Him back and away. He let go, his eyes wide and full of his own fear, not from Blossom's sudden revival in power, but from something else entirely. Blossom felt her head swim in a hazed storm of confusion, her blood boil at the mere sight of Him. But at the same time there was a tingling of terror in her that she couldn't explain. It was a desperate panicked fear, one that was so confused and lost she didn't know where to place it.

For she had not pushed Him away from her own disgust. Something had happened to her, inside, to the very visions of her memory. Something had exploded in her with so much force and spontaneity that Blossom couldn't pinpoint where it had come from. It made no sense, and only frightened her to the point of panic.

As Him touched her, as they'd connected in that brief interlude of forced passion, Blossom had felt something slip into her brain, flooding her thoughts with strange images and confusing words. There were voices, tiny floating voices that breathed words completely incoherent to her, almost as if they were words from a foreign tongue. The images were quick, so quick she could never see any of them long enough to decipher what they meant.

-Something… a flash of finely crafted steel… a spray of blood… rain… I can't see anything… but… a building… a temple…-

But just as soon as the images appeared, they vanished into thin air, leaving Blossom very dumbfounded and confused. Something in Him's touch had triggered a reaction in her mind, something had happened that shouldn't have, and judging by the expression Him now wore, he was surprised as well. It had almost been like… a connection.

He tilted his head, a wide-eyed stare adorning his gracefully curved face. Him eyes Blossom warily, watching with her with placid caution as if she'd explode at any moment. Blossom returned his stare, her own eyes just as wide as his.

Then Him finally straightened, his face breaking into a wide, sinister grin. He looked Blossom over, his eyes roving her body in a very studious manner, and she backed away in protest.

"Well, well, well… I would have never expected this from you. This does complicate things a bit…" Him said gingerly, before spinning into a poofy whirl of smoke and disappearing. Him was gone.

Blossom remained where she was for minutes, trying to figure out exactly what Him had meant. She couldn't come up with any answers, so finally she let herself relax. He was gone, at least for now, and right then she had more important things to take care of.

Wiping of her lips roughly, she turned back to face her sister, who had since moved again in her sleep. One arm was carefully draped over her eyes, the other nestled at her side. She looked so rested and at ease, that Blossom felt envy over her sister's naivety. She didn't know what was going on, and it just wasn't bothering her, and she was all the better for it.

Blossom sat back down in the chair, hearing soft movement from down the hallway that announced the professor's return. She looked down at her knees again, wondering where in the world her other sister was hiding, and wondering why she felt so weird after Him kissed her.