Author's Note: Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah! Foster's is not mine. (sticks tongue out)

Chapter Fourteen: Duplicity

Click, click, click. Berry's pink high heeled boots accompanied its person as she encircled Bloo like a vulture around its prey. Back to laying on the carpet, still in his straitjacket, Bloo watched helplessly and scarcely stifled outbursts whenever she randomly kicked him. Vomit's aftertaste lingered in his mouth, but he knew better than to spit on her rug. Fear won out over rebellion and he awaited her next move.

For the last three hours, she'd tried every tactic known to imaginary friend and human to beguile him into willingly joining her side. The only thing it accomplished was giving him more bruises, a possibly broken bone somewhere, and aches. Already he'd unwittingly confessed to missing Mac and hating her, but nothing useful. The former had resulted in another blow to his lower jaw and a boot to the groin. He curled up in a ball and whimpered for an hour afterwards.

Currently, she yanked him up by his blue hair and flung him onto her desk. He nearly toppled off, but she halted his progress in the nick of time. Eyes glittering maliciously, she leered, cupping his tender chin in her palm. He winced, swallowing hard, determined not to meet her gaze head on. He'd decided a while ago glancing into her eyes was like looking into a Gorgon's.

"You are minedo you hear me? There's no point in disobeying me because I will beat you down, even if it takes decades," she snarled, but he obstinately refused to meet her icy blue eyes. Sanity flickered momentarily, and then vanished immediately, but Bloo wasn't looking. Instead, he clenched his eyes and pictured Mac saying the first part. He smiled softly, agreeing. As long as Mac agreed he was the best imaginary friend ever and then made out with him. Shivers coursed down his neck conjecturing it.

"Listen to me, you stupid fuck!" she snarled, slapping him in the back of the head, and then slamming it onto the table. Bloo saw stars, but, perturbed because she interrupted a daydream involving Mac, himself, and very little clothing, spat in her face. His spittle trailed down her cheek, dripped off her chin, and fell onto her lapel. In the time it takes sound to reach someone's ears, her face's color altered from its normal, pale pink to red to a delicate shade of puce. Her nails tore off the neck restraints to burrow into his throat.

Suddenly, a disarming, painful smile crossed her face and she flung him into the wall. Blood trickled out of a wound in the back of his head and smeared. A piteous moan, like a plaintive kitten, escaped his lips; he clenched his eyes shut and suppressed a shudder. What now? Why was she smiling like the Cheshire cat about to devour him for breakfast? Man, he wished Mac was here. More than anything, he longed for his headache (already a million times worse thanks to her throwing him around) to vanish and Mac to suddenly show up, sweep him into his arms, and take him back to Foster's. Unfortunately, it seemed the dream he'd enjoyed had ended…and the waking nightmare had begun.

Sore from head to toe, Blooregard Q. Kazoo gratefully sank into oblivion, but everything Berry had told him about creators, creations, and trust echoed in his dreams, aided by perhaps more than just his subconscious…
Mac skidded on the ice, but never stopped running. Single digit weather chapped Bloo's humanoid lips, froze his fingers, and every other bit of skin left to the elements. He called out to his creator, but he obstinately refused to listen. Indeed, whenever he spoke, he shoved his earmuffs on tighter. Normally, Bloo would immediately tell himself this was a dream, nothing more, and he'd never ignore him like this. But…

Berry's words reverberated. "Creators don't care for their creations…they abandon them as quickly as possible…they pretend to love them so they can betray them…"

Awake, he'd never even acknowledge her comments, but asleep, faced with Mac fleeing him, her words started to take root. He shook his head to dispel the notion he'd consider this, but her words, taunting and threatening, encircled him. The harder he shoved them away, the more forceful they became. Their sheer strength choked him mentally and, in his dream, Mac finally halted to regard his creation. Hate…God, where had it come from?

Bloo retreated, shuddering in the wake of his creator's sudden mood change. Hate radiated from his chestnut eyes, once so warm and familiar, and his whole posture shifted from ease to tense, balled fury. The last people he'd seen him glare at this fiercely were DIE members. But, he wasn't a member of DIE. He was his imaginary friend, his lover, his best friend.

"You ruined my life, you know. If I didn't have to keep defending, protecting, and shielding you, I could live normally. It's your fault I breathe moldy air every day and duck behind walls to keep from getting killed. It's your fault I'm miserable, Bloo. You killed my mother and you're going to get me too. You're stupid, selfish, conceited, and a completely useless idea. I wish I'd never imagined you," Mac spat, bitterness and loathing etched in every syllable.

Stunned, Bloo stared blankly, but Berry's words resurfaced. "Creators don't care for their creations…they pretend to love them so they can betray them…" He wouldn't, couldn't believe this. Mac would never say anything like this. Mac loved him…didn't he? He might've sacrificed his livelihood for Bloo, but if he really hated him, wouldn't he have gotten rid of him years ago?

Yet the words held a grain of truth. Their last serious disagreement had involved similar things. But Mac couldn't be serious. This dream Mac was far removed from real life, wasn't he? If he was, though, why were his words so strikingly similar? Could he have his fun and then abandon him like tissue paper? Could he fling him away because he was sick of living underground? His deepest, innermost fears, the ones he never pondered normally, much less vocalized, rose. Since they became more than friends, his anxiety over betrayal and abandonment had secretly greatened, not lessened. And now, with Berry's words and his swirling together, his heart pounded and he begged for release from this infernal place. Yet none came.

"Tell, tell me you love me, Mac. Tell me you'll never leave me. Please," he whispered, tears brimming. Eyes narrowed to slits, he wended his way through the snow and placed his hands on his imaginary friend's shoulders. Unmitigated malevolence shone brightly, agonizingly. Bloo remembered them shining affectionately, sometimes angrily, but never like this. Never like he seriously wished him dead. His stomach dropped out of his body and his heart was soon after.

"I told you I loved you, but I lied. I'll never leave you…I'll ditch you. I hate you," he snapped, spitting in his face. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but, instead of thumbing them away like he normally did, he laughed. His heart broke into two, but all he could do was stand there and guffaw. Each uproarious outburst shattered his heart further and he collapsed onto his knees.

"I told you he'd betray you…" she whispered.


Berry ran her fingers through Bloo's sweat soaked hair. In his sleep, he whimpered, unconsciously leaning against her. Whenever he cried his name, she whispered more lies. Everyone knew people were far more susceptible to suggestions in slumber, because the subconscious took over and all imaginary friends with creators secretly questioned their loyalty. All it took to coax them over to her side was a little plying and manipulation, then they seldom returned. Of course, the ones who did were immediately killed. Spies served her better dead than alive.

"They're all the same, Bloo," she murmured into his ear. "They're all liars. DIE punishes only the deserving. Punish Mac, Bloo. Rip out his heart like he ripped out yours. He never loved you."

Bloo shuddered, jerking and mouthing his name. When he finally opened his eyes, tears swum and, too terrified to care who he ran to, he queried her. He looked so very childish and young, perfectly naïve and innocent for her plans. It was always preferable to break them early on, before they caused her too much grief. He was vulnerable now, as she anticipated, and a few well placed words would complete the illusion.

"He wouldn't?" he whispered, choking back sobs. "He loves me…he's…he's my Mac…"

She hugged him to her chest, stroked his hair, and planted a motherly kiss on the top of his head. Surprised by her comfort but not questioning it, he relaxed slightly into her embrace.

"Love is a lie, Bloo. It's best we acknowledge that because you've fallen badly. He can't care for you. He pretends he does, but in the end, he'll leave you.

"I'll never leave you. I'll love you until the end of everything because I'm better than human. I'm imaginary and I can't die. I will protect you."

Mac jolted awake, shivering uncontrollably. All day, he'd shuddered, cringed, and winced erratically, all the while thinking of Bloo. Frankie had to practically shovel food down his throat at dinner; when he retired to his room and fell asleep, he had the oddest dream. He'd been in it, but outside of it at the same time. Unable to stop any of the proceedings, he watched powerlessly as his dream counterpart fed Bloo lie after lie. Something or someone held him back; he'd plummeted to the ground the instant his beloved imaginary friend started crying…and awoke, warm but shivering all the same.

Huddling under the covers, he tried to dispel the notion something was very, very wrong. Of course, it was rather difficult when he contemplated the dream and the reality- Bloo had been missing since last night and no one knew where he was. Not to mention everything bizarre that had occurred today and phantom pains. His heart ached for him- this was the longest they'd been apart in their lives.

"I don't know where you are, Bloo, but I miss you and I love you. Don't believe anyone else."

Frankie dragged herself out of bed, checked the logs to see if he'd snuck back in, but nothing promising. She hugged her fluffy pink bathrobe to her chest (honestly, she'd been too drained and cold to wander around in a nightgown and bunny slippers) and meandered down the well worn steps to one of Foster's secret entrances. At least there was no danger of Bloo divulging their location, since even thinking of it would trigger the transformer's self destruction mechanism, taking out imaginary and target.

Frowning lightly, she huddled on the stairs and wondered what might become of him. Berry's toy, but for how long? After the loss of his family, how would Mac cope if he died? Her heart went out to the little guy, who clearly had endured more than his fair share of tragedy. Then again, so had they all.

Hugging her knees to her chest, she swallowed back the lump in her throat. A furry brush against her cheek caused her to raise her head. Odd, she hadn't even heard him approach. Yet here he was.

With great difficulty, looking rather undignified in the process, he sat on his haunches by her side. Frankie suppressed a snicker at the immense discomfort on his face and rose, helping him to his feet before he cramped in that position. Sometimes, she swore he forgot he was normally a rabbit. Smirking, she held onto him a moment longer than necessary and listened to his heartbeat. Strong and steady.

"I think perhaps it is time for bed, Frankie," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her. "You can worry about Bloo in the morning."

Smiling devilishly, her hand sliding down to his transformer belt, she replied, "Whose bed?"

Blooregard Q. Kazoo shut his eyes, reopened them, and turned his steely, contemptuous gaze onto Mac's recorded visage. Though his body quaked, he slid his cold blue eyes onto old pictures of Madame Foster and Mr. Herriman (since no one had seen them in public since DIE rose). After plying, subliminal messages, and torture, he'd finally renounced his old life. Yes, she admitted he was the hardest to break of every other imaginary friend she'd ever overseen, but it was worth it.

Sunset today, her best group and he would ambush Herriman, lure him out of Foster's, and destroy him. She anticipated the look on the imaginary rabbit's face when Bloo dealt the finishing blow.