I said the chapters would get longer, and this one is the longest yet! It should also kick start the story a bit. I hope.


3. Last Day

"Eddy, are you alright?" Eddy looked up from behind his desk.

"Yes, I'm fine Double D," he said tiredly, "why do you ask this time?"

"It's just you seem distracted. You didn't turn the sign round from closed to open this morning, you were talking about a car to a customer for three minutes after he'd left, and you took a wheelbarrow in part exchange!"

Eddy looked around. "I think this office needs repainting," he said. Double D rolled his eyes.

"Come on Eddy, it's not like you to hide your problems. What's wrong, trouble at home?"

"Why do you always ask that first," asked Eddy, as he always did. Double D decided not to beat around the bush.

"Because it usually is."

"Oh. Well if you MUST know, Blossom seems really down at the moment, and I can't seem to find anyway to help. She doesn't seem to want to talk to me about it."

"Ah." Double D scratched his chin, "well, it is like her to hide her problems. Do you actually know there is a problem?"

"Yes, she…" Eddy hesitated. Double D didn't know about Superman or much about Sonic for that matter. "I know it, but it's personal," he finished. Double D nodded.

"Is it something most people suffer at some point, you know, like finding a grey hair, or a first wrinkle?"

Eddy thought for a moment. Most people suffer guilt, but it wasn't really anything to do with ageing. "Yes and no," he replied.

"Maybe it's possible then that she is having a bad reaction to this… problem due to the extra stress of her new job."

"You think so?"

"Yes I do. Blossom's to strong a person to let petty things get to her."

"Umm," Eddy chose his words carefully, "the issues hardly "petty" but it does seem to be affecting her more than I thought it would. I suppose stress could be a problem. It's defiantly worth a pop, what can I do to help?"

"Lots of little things really. Try and remove any extra stresses from her life, so she can sort her self out. You know, get the kids new shoes, make sure the house is tidy, repaint the room you'd promised to do last year and do the shopping etc."

"Eddy looked doubtful. "Do you really think that will help?" he asked.

"Sure, if you do all those little things, it means that she'll have time to relax away from work, and when she has time with the children, it can be quality time, rather then just more work. Once she's not under so much pressure, I'm sure she'll be able to sort out her problems."

Eddy nodded slowly. "That sort of makes sense," he said.

"It's called being a supportive husband. Sometimes people don't need to talk, they just need to make space for them to think in."

Eddy stood up. "Right!" he said determinedly, "It's three o'clock now, by the time Blossom gets home, the house is going to be tidy, dinner will be cooked and her loving family will be waiting, to give her all the space she needs!"

Close enough thought Double D as Eddy strode out. Moments later, he leaned back in briefly.

"Oh yes, put that wheelbarrow on the forecourt for five hundred dollars," he said before shooting off.


It was late now. Bubbles wondered down one of the many corridors in the SSR headquarters. It wasn't the quickest way out, but it did mean she went past a certain point.

For in this particular corridor there was a room with a safe in it. Inside the safe was a box. And inside that was the Chaos Emerald that she and Buttercup had locked there a month ago.

She walked past here everyday, waiting. What she was waiting for she wasn't sure, but she had a feeling that when it was time for her to take it, she would know. Buttercup had been very suspicious of her shortly after Sonic had left, watching her every move to make sure that she couldn't get the emerald. This had angered Bubbles quietly, she had as just as much of a right as anyone else to it! But more importantly, it had stopped her from taking it.

Over time though, Buttercup's surveillance had slacked. Patience was a virtue, thought Bubbles. Now it could be hers!

As she approached the door how ever, something told her it wasn't the right time. She wasn't sure quite what, but it didn't feel right. A voice was speaking in her head, saying, "not just yet Bubbles, not just yet"

She sighed, but walked past. Having waited this long, she could wait a few more days.


Thousands of millions of miles away, there was a ship, drifting through space. It was a huge, gleaming silver testament to a once great civilisation, but its inhabitants were now all that was left.

Their mighty nation had been undone when the planet they resided on had exploded. Before then, they had been a leading light in intergalactic politics, with a booming economy, content citizens and a powerful army. Now they were just a bunch of roaming nomads, looked down on by all, even the species so pathetic that they had only just developed fire.

Or that was how the Kryptonian propaganda machine put it. In reality they weren't looked down upon at all, although they were the subject of a lot of smug documentaries produced by the universe's new top dog, which showed the meteoric rise and even more meteoric fall of Krypton. In many respects, this was worse then being looked down on.

However the few remaining Kryptonites were a proud people, and they were determined to keep things as normal as possible by, for example, prosecuting the murderers of their dispersed race.

The messenger hurried towards the throne room. The message had to be given to the King, and it had to be passed on by word of mouth, to avoid anyone that might be tapping the internal telephone from overhearing. He ran into the waiting room.

"I bare an urgent message for the King from the Department of Interrogation," he declared. The receptionist looked up from her poorly lit desk. Despite the glamorous appearance from the outside, inside the ship was dull and dingy, mainly because of the shortage of power on board. The impression wasn't helped by all the kryptonites wearing black.

"Thank you sir," she said professionally, "I'll just see if his majesty has a moment…"

"My father is tired," interrupted a stern and authoritative voice, "I will take the message." The newcomer was obviously different from the rest. He walked tall, with a straight back, and wore white clothes with a cape. Despite the state of the ship, he was immaculately presented. He was royalty.

The messenger stumbled into a bow, as did the receptionist. "Yes your majesty," he said without questioning. "The Department of Interrogation have discovered the identity and location of Lord Kar-EL's murderer."

The Prince smiled. "Good," he said. "Which planet is the scumbag on?"

"Tosvse 3 sir. The locals know it as the ea…"

"Set a course at once," the prince barked to his captain.

"Only his majesty the king can order a change in course sir..." the captain stuttered in fear. The prince was remarkably restrained for someone who had never been questioned.

"My farther will agree with my orders when I inform him of them," he said confidently. "We need to capture this murder, so we can punish him!"

The messenger shifted uncomfortably. "What?" the prince asked him.

"Err… it's just you perhaps should have rephrased that last sentence to 'so we can punish her'…"


Blossom arrived back home and landed at the front door. She was tired, her head was sore and she still felt guilty. But she tired to focus on the positives; Raven had promised not to say anything, there were no journalists waiting for interviews so nothing had gone disastrously wrong and she thought she'd finally got through to people to knock before they entered her office. So life wasn't that bad. Honest.

She opened the door and walked.

"Hi Eddy, I'm home," she said. Eddy appeared from the kitchen.

"Hi dear, how was your day?" he asked, slightly nervously.

"Long," Blossom replied. "I'm finished, can you… why do you have safety goggles on?" Eddy blinked for a moment, then reached up and felt the goggles on his face. A giggle came from behind him. Eddy paused for a moment.

"I'm just trying them for size?" he suggested.

"Yes… of course…" Blossom was slightly concerned. Eddy smiled weakly.

"Cup of tea?" he suggested. Blossom nodded, and followed him in to the kitchen. As soon as she had got through the doorway, something dropped onto her back.

"Surprise!" giggled/dribbled MJ. Blossom smiled, and took her off her back.

"Hello you!" she said cheerfully and gave her a hug. "Just remember, don't to that to daddy or his back will break."

"Daddy's not very strong, is he?" MJ asked. Blossom nodded. MJ sniggered away, showing those two long front teeth. "But he's good at something's, like tickling and using the buzzy thing!"

"Buzzy thing?" Blossom looked a round. The kitchen looked different somehow… "It's spotless," she murmured. Eddy smiled.

"We gave it a good clean, didn't we MJ?" his daughter nodded vigorously. Blossom was amazed.

"How did you get all the stains out?" she asked; hours of scrubbing had made her think it was impossible.

"Some of them can out with acid," Eddy explained (MJ bowed), "but I got some of the others out using the power sander…"

"The buzzy thing!" MJ elaborated.

"…then the surfaces weren't level so I had to sand the whole lot down."

"It's an…" Blossom felt the kitchen sides, "amazing finish," she murmured, slightly in awe.

"Thank MJ for that," Eddy explained, "she knew right when to stop. Oh yes, and dinner will be served shortly. It's home cooked!"

Blossom went slightly pale. Eddy's idea of home cooking was to drench anything in layer after layer of fat. It worked with breakfast and possibly omelettes, but not with anything else. "You cooked?" she asked, hoping that he'd just put a ready meal in the oven.

"No, I was too busy emptying the dinning room of rubbish, so Edward did it."

"Edward?" Blossom was amazed. "He can cook?"

"Yes it was news to me too," Eddy admitted, "but it's amazing what these mutant kids will pick up."

"I HEARD THAT," Edward's voice squeaked from a different room, (it hadn't broken yet.)

"Well, maybe I wouldn't have to mock you if you hadn't spent the last half hour laying the table with a ruler!"

Edward emerged from the dinning room and strode into the kitchen. "If a jobs worth doing then it's worth doing properly… and you can stop laughing and all!" he said to MJ, who'd been giggling ever since her dad had referred to Edward as a mutant.

Blossom was too touched by their work to be bothered by their squabbling. "You didn't need to do all this," she said. MJ looked at her wide eyed.

"But we love you Mummy," she said earnestly. I almost reduced Blossom to tears. Instead she scooped MJ up into a hug.

"Thank you," she said to them all, "this is great! Thanks…" she paused. "What is for super?"

"Tripe," said Edward bluntly. He managed to keep his face straight for a few moments too.


Not everyone was at home with their families enjoying dinner though. There were many hard working people still out and about, making the world go round. The superheroes that were on night watch for example, or the police, firemen, doctors, bus drivers, restaurant waiters, the poor university student who has to sell burgers for McDonalds all night, and respectful newspaper editor, waiting for the big story that will make his of her front page for the following day special.

The tabloid press are also hard at it, but no one quiet knows why, since they tend to make up the news. But at least they provide a service. As long as they don't pretend to be something they're not, you can't hate the tabloids.

Well, not while you've got tabloids that pretend to be real newspapers to hate first.

Avoiding mentioning any real daily publications that come in the mail and fit into this category, there's always the Daily Bugle. J Jonah Jameson was the editor of this "worthy" publication, and enjoyed ranting about the "wrongs" of the world almost as much as I do.

But toady, he was not happy. The current front page story was lacking something. A decent photo for a start. Jameson didn't believe in slow news days. He believed that if there wasn't any news, it was a journalist's job to make some. To see that the most interesting story anyone had come up with was "Chelsea odds on for English Premiership" was probably the lowest day in his career.

Someone knocked of the door of his office and came in. "You better have a story!" Jameson barked.

"Sir, I've found something on the police radio," the reporter said. Jameson snorted.

"If it's not a car chase involving Spiderman I don't want to know!"

"But sir, it's a transmission from an alien spacecraft!"

"Not another one," Jameson moaned, "I know all about those; "This is HMS corkscrew pasting on vector 6.1.5, requesting permission to change to vector 6.1.6" etc. I can't put that on the front page!"

"But sir, it's not that, it's the story of the year! Listen!"

Finally Jameson did. What he heard amazed him. "Well, well, well," he murmured. "Everyone has a secret." He pressed the intercom button. "We have a new page one!" he said.


It was seven in the morning. Eddy rolled away from Blossom and got up. He turned back to look at her. She was sleeping so peacefully, with her long hair flowing across the bed. Eddy sighed. She truly was beautiful, both inside and out.

And Double D had been right; she'd seemed a lot more relaxed that night. She'd even thanked him for his help. Sure, they hadn't had sex, she was too stressed, (in a way Eddy was grateful, since he was still finding sawdust from the sanding in unfortunate places), but they'd still had a very close night. Eddy felt good. He was also tired.

He wondered downstairs, and opened the fridge. "Now what's the fuel of a devoted husband… Bacon and Eggs!" he said. Having collected them and put the kettle on, he grabbed a glass of water, and decided to turn on the television to see what the news was… and because he had a lottery ticket.

The commercial break was just finishing, and the news reader returned to the screen.

"Good morning. To once again reiterate our top story, it is alleged by the Daily Bugle that the SSR leader Blossom Panner was the actual Murder of Superman. The Man of Steel died fifteen years ago, and was originally thought to have been murdered by the career criminal Brick Jojo. We now go live to our reporter in…

The sound offour lives falling apart is the sound of a glass breaking.


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