IMPORTANT NOTE: This is Dude13 here (I'll be explaining why the heck I'm leaving an author's note in azuretears' story in just a moment) with a quick messgae for you all. Azuretears has beenexperiencing a lot of technical difficulty with her computer, and at the moment, she won't be able to gain internet access until Monday.

Until then, she's asked me to upload this chapter, just to get back in the routine of posting a new chapter for Nightmare every Sunday.

That'sbasically it! She can't gain access online, so I'm just helping her out. Enjoy the chapter, it's a real goodie!

-Dude13

Chapter Twenty One- Scars

Madame Foster curled up on her four poster bed, hugged a rabbit pillow to her chest, and contemplated. Tucked away in the far recesses of Foster's underground, only Frankie and Mr. Herriman knew exactly where it was and she intended to keep it that way. Though she trusted many of the imaginaries and humans here a great deal, only her family (and she considered her Funny Bunny family) would she entrust the location of something so private. After all, considering Bloo's treachery, it wasn't unforeseeable that others might fall as well (and had, but never successfully maimed anyone). The fewer who knew where she slept, the better.

It hardly surprised her that a squadron of younglings decided that kamikaze was the best approach. Ah, the foolishness of the young, believing progress could be made in a few short minutes instead of decades. They forgot mortality's sting and their own vulnerability. Still, she supposed in a world where they had nothing to lose, suicidal missions appealed. Their lives meant little to them besides trajectory bullets. The thought depressed her, but she'd seen its impact on Mac. Children and young adults had no idea what freedom, a life without Berry, was like. They had no hope for the future because they had no idea what hope was.

And it'd been partly her fault they'd had theirs brutally torn away. Foster's had remained underground and immobile far too long, but this wasn't a children's game. Real lives were lost daily and she feared putting loved ones out as targets. The sight of her beloved Herriman after their attack should have firmed her position, but it weakened it instead.

No matter what she tried, they were still vulnerable. Mr. Herriman had been lured out of Foster's, an insult to their supposed security. Maybe they'd stopped hiding for refuge and more because she thought she could avoid the war. She'd forgotten that no matter what she did, people and imaginaries were going to die. In her haste to ensure their supposed protection, she'd overlooked the obvious- infiltration could and would happen. Not to mention aboveground, DIE members could easily shoot someone down.

Well, if this "Goo" could rally her followers into such fervor, maybe she could do the same with those belowground. Mac might represent how the youth truly viewed this matter. Sure, he'd personally 'lost' an imaginary to the cause, but others had already too. Or creators. Her indecision had literally cost lives and now that she thought it, she regretted it. She'd forgotten what it was like to be young, impudent, and, more importantly, under someone's tyranny.

Cocking her head, she thought she heard another argument brewing. Perhaps she shouldn't have left those four alone, but she'd no choice. She didn't blame Frankie for distrusting Bloo any more than she did Mac for caring so deeply for him, it hurt. Placing her cane down on the floor, she considered interceding, but changed her mind. Let them work out their differences on their own. It was healthier, for one thing. Second, it'd been a long day.

Resting against her mountain of pillows, many of which fashioned in the shape of a rabbit, she shut her eyes and imagined a world without DIE. Rabbits had always been her favorite animal…

…

Frankie glared daggers at Bloo, unconsciously retreating into his creator's arms. The instant Bloo shifted to leave, she rose immediately, temper at the breaking point. Mac and Mr. Herriman stood as well, eyes on their respective partners. Given Bloo's unpredictable mood swings, he'd either start fighting or run off. Just in case, Mac hovered over him. His own argument with Frankie hadn't been forgotten either.

"Why don't you go back to DIE?" Frankie snapped. "I expect they'll lay out the welcome wagon. You're Berry's pet, aren't you?"

Mac opened his mouth to defend him when his creation thrust him aside, sending him colliding with the couch. He wound up sliding off and onto the carpet. He wasn't certain he ought to be concerned or relieved Bloo was trembling in anger. At least he'd stopped speaking monotonously and sitting statuesque.

Defiant azure eyes narrowed, fury dancing, and his fists clenched. Even though he knew better than to strike her, the thought raced through his mind nonetheless. He'd longed to hit someone badly the past few weeks and here she was, practically asking for it. He swallowed hard, desperately shoving down his own temper. It wouldn't solve anything if he punched anything, quite the opposite. He had to prove that, despite wavering, his loyalty for Foster's outweighed any towards DIE. He knew this and yet, it was so tempting to beat the crap out of someone here.

"You have no idea what it's like to be me, so back off," he snarled, shaking violently.

"Miss Frances…" Mr. Herriman murmured gently, but she waved him off. Folding her arms across her chest, she glared down at the blue skinned humanoid and her eyes swept his scar. She smirked contemptuously, but didn't touch him. Mac, trembling himself, wrapped an arm around his waist. Bloo flung him back into the couch. He didn't need his help.

"And you have no idea how much I hate you for what you did," she whispered dangerously. "It's a good thing Grandma came when she did, because if I were the one to see you behind that door…"

"Don't you dare threaten him!" Mac snapped abruptly, leaping up. "He didn't want to hurt him! You don't know what you're talking about! He doesn't like being Berry's pet and-"

"Mac," Bloo said coldly, "I think I can defend myself. Thanks."

Mouth agape, hurt, he perched by the door. Bloo's fury surged through his veins and the desire to hit something or someone. He understood his frustration- everyone who had hurt him, everything they'd done and he couldn't retaliate. Then here was Frankie, taunting and menacing him. Still, regardless of the argument before, he thought he could do without seeing Bloo hit her. He cared about both of them and it pained him deeply to think of them fighting. He wished things didn't have to be like this…

"I'm sorry you haven't had the joy of watching someone beg for mercy and die before your eyes," he replied frigidly and strode out of the room. Mac followed helplessly, glad at least he had the common sense to leave before things got too heated.

…

Frankie seethed, jade eyes shooting sparks. Part of her wanted to pity Bloo, but the other loathed and appalled his behavior. How could Madame Foster let him in? True, he hadn't actually done anything and he'd simply told his story, then left. Okay, so maybe he wasn't prone to attack people…or maybe he waited until he had a group to hide behind.

Yet Mac seemed so convinced he wasn't a horrible creature and he continued to reach out to him in his time of need. He was hopelessly devoted to him and though she'd had her disagreements occasionally with the kid, he probably had a keen intuition. Sighing, she drew back the curtain slightly to watch them interact. Her murderous mood evaporating, replaced by helplessness, she turned to Mr. Herriman. She wasn't going to forgive Bloo instantly, that was too much to ask for, but she'd accept his presence if she absolutely had to. Given her opinion on the matter, she thought that was probably the best he could hope for.

"I don't know," she said quietly, though whether it was regarding Bloo's last statement, what to do, or anything else, she never added. Hugging her arms to her chest, she flung herself into Madame Foster's formerly occupied chair. She buried a hand in her hair, combed through it shakily, then glanced at him once more. The imaginary rabbit stared at the curtain for a few seconds before returning his gaze to her. She wondered to how many of Madame Foster's thoughts he was privy.

"You don't trust him," he replied evenly, regarding her from the couch. "I hardly blame you, but you forget it was not you he attacked."

Sighing heavily, she glared through the curtains as though suddenly, she'd develop x-ray vision. No such thing occurred and, folding her arms across her chest, she settled on the couch. Mr. Herriman glanced at her briefly, and then looked forward. She shifted closer, but he paid her no mind. In fact, he seemed to be ignoring her outright.

"I'm sorry, okay?" she murmured. "I can't help jumping down his throat. It's just…what they almost did…and…I almost lost you…"

Green eyes shining brightly, she flung her arms around him. The imaginary rabbit winced, extracting her arms to move them to a safer, less bruised place. He smiled weakly, nuzzling the top of her head with his furry chin. She smiled back, lifting her head, cupping the back of his in her palm, leaning forward, and kissing him soundly on the cheek, then the lips. Blushing underneath his fur, he very carefully, mindful of his scrapes, gashes, and cuts, wrapped his arms around her waist. She slid closer, deepening the kiss…

…

…while Mac stood off the side and eyed his imaginary friend capriciously. Bloo stood, poised with his hand on the doorknob. The teenager wanted to do exactly what Frankie inside the living room was, but he couldn't. After that latest show, he wasn't sure he wouldn't be treated with extreme animosity. Still, this might be the last time they saw each other. A lump formed in his throat and refused to dislodge. This could be it, their last goodbye, and neither was even going to say "I love you"?

"So, that's it, huh?" Mac snapped, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "You're just going to walk out that door like you walked in and if Berry kills you, that'll be the end of us?"

Bloo spun around, azure eyes flashing defiantly. Part of him wanted to snap, "yes, that's what I'm going to do, to hell with you". But then there was the very real possibility Berry would kill him for this act of treachery coupled with how very hurt Mac was right now. A lump formed in his throat as well and, stepping away from the door, he enveloped him in such a tight hug, it stole his breath away. Trembling, his arms wrapped firmly around his waist like the instant he released him; he'd disappear into the floor. Mac glanced into his eyes and saw the same fear he'd captured the last time they'd met, when he shoved him into the garbage.

"I love you, Mac…" he whispered. "And if Berry kills me…I will find a way back to you."

Mac shuddered, both pleased and unnerved. Tentatively, he touched his injured cheek, and, though Bloo cringed, he snatched his hand and pressed it against the stitches. The brown haired boy frowned, uncertain- Bloo's hand was shaking badly. It was clear he would have preferred no one touch that side ever again, but if anyone were to receive permission, it was him. Still, the longer his hand lingered, the more violently he quaked. Alarmed, he ripped it away.

"Do you think I'm a freak?" he whispered and reclaimed his hand, forcing it to roam over the stitches, up and down his face. Mac balked, aware of the effect it had on his lover, but Bloo's grip was too strong. Determinedly, despite the fact his hand was now shaking uncontrollably and barely holding on, he continued until, unable, he released him.

"I think…" he murmured, uncomfortable with the way Bloo's whole body trembled as it struggled to cradle him. He had the distinct impression if he agreed, he'd lose it entirely. Of course, he'd never say that, but the way he quaked, he had to admit it terrified him. His eyes, too, were wholly unsettling, vast and slightly mad. How much sanity would he possess when they were through? Would he be sane at all?

"I don't love you any less…" he whispered and this eased him, yet he continued to shudder. Gently cupping the back of his head in his palm, he kissed the sides of his torn cheek, planted one on his forehead, and drew back when Bloo's lips jumped onto his for a deep, passionate kiss. The world melted away and, for one blissful second, DIE, Foster's, sides, and hatred vanished. All there existed and ever would were Mac and Bloo, locked in what could possibly be their last kiss. In which case, this would have been the furthest either got, considering they were both virgins.

Apparently, the same thought struck both simultaneously, because, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, Bloo snatched Mac by the hand and led him down to his room.

One last note, azuretears wrote a lemon that takes place after this chapter, and she has it on in the "Cartoon Misc" section, under the same pen name. Check it out!

If any of you are still confused about exactly what's going on, please PM me!

Same drill folks, please review! Azuretears will be back as soon as she can!

-Dude13