Note: This is back to the third person (not in Gazz's POV anymore). But it still has scattered Gazz-like thoughts in italic

I still don't own WWRY, any of the characters, or song lyrics/quotes.

And There's Nothing You Can Do About It

Hand in hand, Gazz was leading Scaramouche out of the tunnel, away from the captured Bohemians. Away from Khashoggi. Away from the SPs. Away from the Gaga world--away from everything.

They were running through the tunnels at an alarming pace. Scaramouche had gotten over the initial shock, and was half running, half being dragged. Galileo was leading, but he had no idea where the tunnels were taking him, and what they were going to do when there was no more tunnel to run in. The latter had to be found out soon, as they could see rays of sunlight at the end of the tunnel.

Like a sunshine ray through a crack in the shutter, or the sight of a light at the end of a tunnel--fine time for voices to be going through my head.

"Gazza, look, a van!" Scara was pointing out of the tunnel, where, sure enough, there was an old van that seemed to be waiting for them. It was in some sort of forest, or maybe a jungle. Gazz didn't remember any forests or jungles around town, so he figured that they had been running quite a while. It wasn't until they had stopped that he felt the pain in his lungs and throat, or the aching in his legs.

"Well I guess we should stay here a bit. Rest up. But what are we supposed to do that? All of the other Bohemians are dead, Scara. Britney Spears died to save us. How did the pig find us, anyway?" Unconsciously having taken his hand away from Scaramouche's, Galileo's fists clenched with anger, having thought of these things, and more. He got louder. "And how are we supposed to bring back rock on our own? All I know is that I hear voices in my head that are supposedly words of the past--but what are--"

Scaramouche cut him off. "The hospital!" And I thought I was mad. She kept going, despite the blank stare from Gazz. "When they operated on our heads, Gazza. They must've put in some sort of locator chip," she started to look through his hair, on the back of his head. Feels like the lice checks we used to have in Virtual School, he was thinking.

"I found something here," she said, keeping one finger on a spot on the back of his upper neck. Reaching towards the van, she took a piece of broken glass and brought it towards that spot. Seeing what she was about to do, he had to stop her.

"Wait! Do you really think we should do this? I mean, we could outrun pigs. I could carry you and run at the same time if you were tired and--" He was cut off again.

"Gazz, I do NOT need you to carry me," Scaramouche gave him a Look. Someday I'll find the right words to describe that, that...thing that she does to screw up her face. "And if we don't take these out they'll catch us in a few hours. We need to rest, whether you think so or not."

With this, she expertly cut into his skin, removing a small chip, completely flat, about one square centimetre. He gasped in pain, then inwardly kicked himself for sounding like such a wuss. His ego was also somewhat shattered when he noticed that she was holding him in her arms, whispering, what he thought, words of encouragement. Embarrassing, yes; wishing she would stop, no.

Really, what she was saying went somewhat along the lines of this:

"You idiot. You really think that we could escape the SPs when they knew exactly where we were at any given time? If you think I'm gonna help you with this little plan to get living rock back, you are gonna understand I'm the more clever one. Or else I will kick you ass. Just because you're a guy doesn't mean that you have all the power."

As much as he hated to stop this, he had to interrupt as a nagging thought crept back into his head.

"Um, Scara, I still have to take out your chip," Besides, I wouldn't want that pervert interrupting us.

Scara looked up, wondering why she hadn't thought of this. I'm the more clever one. These words came back into her mind, realizing that she hadn't been thinking. It was Gazz. Gazz was looking out for her.

"Okay. Umm...well, use this piece of glass, and the chip should be right about here," she was pointing to a spot on her upper neck, the same place that she removed Gazz's chip. "Yeah, right here, I can feel it."

Slowly but skilfully, Gazz cut through her skin. Since he was facing her back, he couldn't see the pained expression on her face. If he had, though, he would've been too shocked to continue. Too scared with the fear of hurting her.

Soon enough, it was over and Gazz was the one holding Scaramouche. Except he wasn't talking like she was. They were sitting in the back of the van, on some sort of mattress. It must've been only 5°C in there. (A/N: Sorry, I can't do Fahrenheit.)

"Gazz?" Scaramouche broke the silence, looking into his eyes. "You do realize we're the only ones left? The rest of the Bohemians are dead. Gone. Or at least brain-washed. How're we gonna do this on our own? I mean, really, we're practically kids. We can't defeat Globalsoft by ourselves. Eventually they'll get us, and when the do..." She didn't continue. They both knew what would happen.

"W-well, at least no-one could say we didn't try. I know that sounds stupid, but at least we'd know that we tried," Yeah, I think she gets it now. Move on. You know what you REALLY want to say. "But, I don't know...I feel that we can do this. I mean, this is the first time that I don't completely hate myself. I-I've found something to live for..." His voice trailed off, and he looked out the broken windows, as if he expected Khashoggi and his crew to be closing in on them. After all, Scara only turned the chips off. She didn't completely break them. What if the still worked? What if--

"The dream?" Scara brought him out of his "What ifs?" with sarcasm and eye rolling. It never ceased to amaze him how quickly she could change moods.

"No," Go on, say it, what's the worst that could happen? "No," he repeated, looking into her eyes. "You."

That three-letter word changed the rest of their lives.

Scaramouche paled considerably. She had always been quite pale before, but now, well...she would've been able to wilt a box of Kleenex.

"I love you Scaramouche." Why hasn't she said anything? And why, might I ask, is she looking at my hair? And my arms? What if she sees my wrists?

"I love you too, Gazza."