Storm
Trivia: The Narcassians come from the planet Narcassia. Narcassia comes from Narcissus, who was a very vain young man from Greek mythology and who scorned love. Aphrodite cursed him to fall in love with his reflection and he became the narcissus flower after he died. Fluffy the hair bunny is from the episode "The Mane Event".
The ending seems rushed to me…but hopefully it isn't too bad! ;A;
Edit 2/22/2020: Fixed grammar, writing style, formatting, and some plot related things that bugged me.
Chapter 2: Home?
She was warm on a somewhat stiff bed. It was nice, like Buttercup's bed. Bubbles' had always been very soft, like sleeping on a cloud, and Buttercup's had been on the stiffer side. Blossom's had been in between those, a balance of that softness of her bubbly sister and stiffness of her combative sister. This bed, wherever she was, felt almost familiar in its stiffness.
As she blinked awake, Blossom felt oddly rested. Her mind was at ease and she felt an odd sense of peace overcome her. She frowned. What was this feeling? It…wasn't like the strange, twisted numb feeling at…wherever she had been. It was…more positive, more familiar. Eyes falling closed, she smiled as she realized what she felt.
She felt safe.
Her eyes snapped open and she bolted up, looking around wildly. Safe? How could she feel safe? An image of a woman with black hair and striking green eyes invaded her mind and she blinked rapidly. That woman…yes, she would know that face…it had matured, aged, but it was still recognizable.
It was still her sister.
It was still Buttercup.
Blossom felt tears enter her eyes. How long was it since she saw her sisters? It felt like a lifetime ago. It was… She frowned, suddenly realizing she didn't know how long ago she was captured. She knew she had aged, that was quite clear, but how much she had aged she wasn't sure.
Eyes closed tightly, she dropped her head into her hands, trying to recall anything from her time captured. Where had she been? Fuzzy memories buzzed just beyond her reach and images of places and people she should recognize danced like ghosts just inches from her fingertips. The more she reached for them, the more she tried to delve through the fog, the more her head began to pound. She gritted her teeth and pressed the heels of her palms into her temples.
Think! Think!
Remember!
Her head throbbed, but the fog remained. If anything, it got murkier.
The sound of footsteps caught her attention and her head snapped up as an older woman walked into the room.
"Oh! You're awake!" she said, smiling warmly.
The woman was short, at least as far as Blossom could tell, and had warm gray hair tied up in a bun. She was wearing a light pink cardigan over a white shirt and dark gray slacks. She was holding an old quilt in her arms, a mixture of floral, checkered, and spotted patches in shades of pastel. Her gaze held a warmth that Blossom hadn't seen in years.
At least...it felt like she hadn't seen it in years.
"How are you, Blossom dear?" the woman continued when she didn't speak up.
"I…ve…bee…bet'r…" she tried to say, but her throat was raw and it came out as a croak. She blinked away the tears of pain that entered her eyes and murmured gratefully as the woman poured her a glass of water.
Turning, the woman brought her the cup. "I'm Mrs. Cavadini. We've all been worried about you, dear."
Blossom looked up at her after taking multiple gulps of water.
"Where…am I?" she asked, but before Mrs. Cavadini could answer, another person walked through the door.
For some reason, she felt her breath catch in her throat. The last time she had seen her, she had been twelve, wearing a green shirt and jean shorts and her hair had been in a bob. She could still see that little girl in the woman before her and she supposed that was one of the reasons why she was crying…because she hadn't been there as Buttercup grew up.
Buttercup's hair was now shoulder length and wavy and she had a womanly figure that Blossom shouldn't have been surprised about. They were the perfect girls, after all. Of course, they would grow into the perfect women. She wore a dark green T-shirt and blue jeans tucked inside beat-up combat boots. So typical Buttercup. Tomboyish and ready to fight.
"Blossom…" Buttercup murmured, looking at her sister with wide eyes. She took a cautious step forward and then she was actually flying at her sister. A gasp escaped Blossom as the full weight of her sister barreled into her. "Blossom! Oh my God, Blossom!"
"B-Buttercup…h-hey…" the redhead gasped, tears now freely falling. She sniffled and returned the bear hug, whimpering. "Oh God, Buttercup!"
She sobbed, clinging tightly to her sister.
"Bloss, do you know how much we missed you?" Buttercup asked in her hair, trembling slightly. "Do you…do you know hard it was—?"
Blossom cut her off, "I can only imagine."
And that was really all she could do. Imagine. She had never been in that situation. How does one act when one's sister was taken? When one's leader is taken? That was one of the most important military strategies. Take out the leader and the army falls. But she knew, just knew, that Buttercup had managed to survive…but Bubbles…
"Buttercup," she said, finally releasing her green-eyed sister. "Where are we? And where's Bubbles?"
Buttercup paused and shared a look with Mrs. Cavadini that did not go unnoticed by Blossom. Good to see her observation skills were still up to par, even if her mind still felt fuzzy. That, however, she could analyze later.
Hesitantly, Buttercup answered her, "You're in the Rebel headquarters…basically Pokey Oaks Library and as for Bubbles…um…"
Blossom looked at her and heard her say bitterly, "She's in the Resistance."
Frowning, she asked, "What's the Resistance?"
Silence followed her statement and she looked between the other women in the room, confused by their looks. They looked shocked and bewildered for some reason. Now worried as well as confused, she frowned more deeply. Had she said something wrong? Buttercup herself just said that Bubbles was in the Resistance, so it couldn't be that bad…could it?
Looking between the two, she began feeling a little irritated. Why weren't they answering? Was it that bad, whatever this Resistance was?
"Did I say something wrong?" she asked coolly and Buttercup almost winced.
She had forgotten that her elder sister could be impatient at times. Especially when she was asking a question that had a simple answer.
"How do you know about the Resistance?" Buttercup asked instead, crossing her arms.
She was bringing out the rebel leader persona now and was not surprised that Blossom looked perfectly fine. Hey, when your counterpart was Brick and all… However, while her reaction to her mask was no surprise, her knowledge of the Resistance was.
Blossom suddenly appeared bewildered and tilted her head at her.
"You just said that Bubbles was in the Resistance," she said slowly.
Buttercup looked at her sister with a shocked expression. Had she spoken aloud? Turning to Mrs. Cavadini, she found the older woman looking very confused. That was not the reaction she was expecting. She returned her gaze to her sister, studying her. Well, if she hadn't spoken aloud…then that would mean—
"Oh!"
Blossom's gasp interrupted her thoughts and the green puff refocused back on her. The red haired woman was massaging her forehead with her knuckles, eyebrows furrowed in thought.
"Right…right. I developed a new power," she murmured. "No…two powers…but the second…"
"Is an empathy link to me and Bubbles," Buttercup finished, eyes wide. "The other power is…it's…you can read minds?"
Blossom nodded, looking up at Buttercup. "Yes. Telepathy. He was even more afraid of me after that. He needed to control me more…"
"Who did, dear?" Mrs. Cavadini asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
The look on Blossom's face was something Buttercup had never seen before. Those rosy eyes looked blank and glassy, like she had lost all hope. She was trembling slightly and as Buttercup took her hand, she could feel the clamminess of Blossom's palm. That hopelessness, that despair, did not belong on her face. Not her proud sister.
Buttercup felt her heart contract painfully. Blossom was afraid. And if Blossom was afraid, Buttercup had no idea how she would react to it.
"Who took you, Blossom?" she asked gently.
She was struck breathless as a wave of emotions that were definitely not hers hit her. Fear, anger, reluctance, and panic flooded her senses and she was left panting as the tidal wave of feeling ebbed.
"Sorry," Blossom murmured, feeling her reassurance. "I…that…" She sighed, closing her eyes. She would not be afraid. She was the leader of the Powerpuff Girls. She was not afraid of some alien. So why couldn't she say his name? "It was…it was A-Aterex."
At that, Blossom's eyes suddenly widened and she grabbed her head as memories flooded her mind. They weren't clear or whole, but the bits and pieces were enough to leave her gasping.
"The drug metabolized already!"
"Already!? It's been barely two months!"
"Give her more!"
"Aren't you my pretty little pet?"
"NO!"
"Blossom!" Buttercup gasped, again left breathless from Blossom's emotions.
Said girl was curled into a ball, holding her head. She kept murmuring 'no' and trembling uncontrollably.
Buttercup hovered over her elder sister, literally floating above the bed and looking down at her unsurely. It was one thing to reassure another rebel. It was an entirely different thing when the one shaking in fear was once her beloved leader.
Voice quietening, she murmured, "Blossom…it's okay. He can't get you."
"That's good, my pet…
"You'll be mine! Mark her, slave!
"There's my pet~. How pretty you are.
"Haha! Your punks can't stand up to her!"
Buttercup was now hugging her. "Blossom, can you hear me? He can't get you! You're safe!"
It was as if she had said a magic spell. Blossom stopped trembling and she slowly removed her hands from her head. She looked up at her with an unsure and watery look.
Buttercup gave her a confused look back, but a small smirk pulled up her mouth as she said, "I'd never thought I'd be the one comforting you, Leader Girl."
Immediately, Blossom blushed and she pushed Buttercup away. Her sister didn't go very far, adamant to stay close after her episode.
"I-I'm fine!" she snapped.
She knew by the amusement she could feel from Buttercup that her raven-haired sister knew she was just saying that. Saying Aterex's name had caused her to revert to the fetal position. Her bottom lip quivered. She couldn't lead her sisters if she couldn't even say the enemy's name.
"Weak…" she mumbled and Buttercup looked at her in confusion.
"What?"
Blossom's head shot up, her eyes wide.
"N-Nothing. S-So, w-what is the Resistance?" she asked, returning the conversation back to its original topic. "And why is Bubbles there?"
A pointed look was added to the question. Buttercup sighed, pushing her hair out of her eyes.
"The Resistance is an organization set up by your father and assorted others to take down Aterex," Mrs. Cavadini explained, smiling softly. "Bubbles…ah."
She looked at Buttercup and the green puff sighed again.
"I…didn't join the Resistance because I refused to listen to anyone that wasn't you," Buttercup said, not missing the look on Blossom's face. It was like a cross between surprise and indulgence. "A-Anyway! I…I ran away from the Resistance after…saying some…harsh things to Bubbles." Here she bit her lip, shaking her head. "I should have never done that, but…I…"
Blossom gently reached out, taking her hand. She looked at her sister sympathetically. It was her fault that everything degraded so much. If she hadn't let herself get caught by Aterex…
"I'm sorry," she murmured, causing her sister to look at her in confusion.
"Why?" the green puff asked. "You didn't do anything."
Blossom shook her head, trying to keep the tears back. "No. It's my fault! If I hadn't…If I hadn't let Aterex sneak up on me, if I hadn't gotten so close to the ship, the Narcassians wouldn't have gotten me!"
Her outburst was followed by silence.
Buttercup scowled. She would even ignore the fact that Blossom knew the proper name for the aliens. (Of course, she knew the proper name. That shouldn't surprise her.) But it was not Blossom's fault. Opening her mouth to shout at her sister, Buttercup froze as Mrs. Cavadini cleared her throat. Dark blue eyes told Buttercup to behave and the old woman stood, gently touching Blossom's arm.
"Let's get you cleaned up, dear," she said, smiling in her matronly way. "I'm sure we have some clothes that may fit you lying around."
It was clear what Mrs. Cavadini was doing and Buttercup frowned as she landed lightly next to her. She glared as the old librarian helped her sister out of bed.
Clutching the woman, Blossom stood unsteadily, looking at Buttercup sadly. She had made her mad. She didn't need the empathy link to know that.
Mrs. Cavadini took Blossom's hand and led her out of the room. Buttercup didn't follow, but Blossom knew her sister was upset. The mix of feelings she was getting from her made it clear, but what could she do? It was her fault. She had been careless. If she hadn't been careless, maybe none of this would have happened.
Shaking her head, she tightened her grip on Mrs. Cavadini's hand. The older woman led her into a room that looked like a locker room. Glancing around, she almost didn't notice when Mrs. Cavadini led her into a yet smaller room.
The room was a little square-like room with green tile around the tub and olive painted walls elsewhere. There was a sink by the door and toilet in the corner with a stool shoved under the sink. Hanging from the ceiling were two uncovered light bulbs that cast a surprisingly clear light on the room. Above the tub was a more yellowish light.
"Why does the library have a locker room? And a bathtub?" Blossom asked, sitting down on the stool.
"I'm not sure myself actually," Mrs. Cavadini remarked, rolling up her sleeves. She turned on the hot water and let the tub fill.
Blossom watched the woman, playing with her near ankle length hair. "Mrs. Cavadini…how long have I been gone?"
The elder woman paused in what she was doing and turned to look at her. "You've been gone eight years, dear. You didn't know?"
Blossom's mouth went dry.
"It…was hard to keep track of time…" she murmured.
Eight years. She had been captured for eight years. More dizzying memories inundated her mind, but they were only clips. Nothing solid, nothing worth mentioning. But she had been gone for eight years. No wonder Buttercup had been so happy to see her. Nearly a decade lost.
She held her head. She couldn't believe it. How could she have allowed this to happen?
"You're weak."
She bit her lip. A memory, not of Aterex or her time taken, but of before that, from when she was about nine. It was a memory of a battle between herself and Brick. It had been one of their bloodier fights, each being in a foul mood before it had taken place. He had plowed her into the ground within minutes and floated above her, scowling down. He had said those words with such contempt. It wasn't her fault that Buttercup had accidentally ruined her school project, leaving her unfocused. Blossom would have bet that Butch had tried again to usurp Brick's position and that had been what had caused Brick's mood. (That year Butch had an odd fantasy that he could lead the Rowdyruffs. Brick had not been very happy at all that year.)
"He was right…" she thought weakly, not noticing Mrs. Cavadini walking towards her. "I am weak…"
She jumped when Mrs. Cavadini placed a hand on her shoulder. The older woman looked at her in concern before smiling.
"Is everything all right?" she asked and she nodded with some reluctance. Mrs. Cavadini narrowed her eyes, knowing that she was lying, but she didn't press the girl. Instead, she said, "Would you like me to cut your hair?"
"Oh, yes, please." Blossom nodded, blushing faintly as Mrs. Cavadini gently touched her hair.
"Well, let's get you washed first, okay?" The librarian gently pulled her to her feet and helped the girl undress.
As she stepped into the tub, Mrs. Cavadini held her hair for her, her arms pilled with the auburn locks.
Blossom sat down in the lukewarm water, pulling her knees to her chest. She froze when Mrs. Cavadini covered her eyes, not expecting the action. Vague memories suddenly flooded her mind, but she mentally shook her head. She was safe here. She just had to remind herself of that. She was safe. She wasn't with…him. She shivered when water was dumped over her head, dampening her long hair. She closed her eyes and relaxed as Mrs. Cavadini washed it, massaging the shampoo into her scalp and locks.
Letting her mind wander, she tried to remember her time in the palace, but it was still very blurry and she convulsed abruptly, scaring the librarian washing her hair. She murmured an apology and received a reassurance before the older woman continued working on her hair. Remembering her time captured was out, not if Blossom wanted another seizure. Instead, she decided to puzzle over what Buttercup could possibly have said to keep Bubbles and her from talking for eight years. (Buttercup may not have said it, but Blossom knew that neither had spoken to each other. You could call it sisterly intuition.) Whatever her green sister could have said would have had to be extremely harsh, harsher than normal.
A leaden weight seemed to fill her heart. Her sigh sounded melancholy to her own ears.
She was sure it had been about her.
"Close your eyes, dear," Mrs. Cavadini said and Blossom just had time to close them before water was dumped on her.
This happened a few more times until Mrs. Cavadini was satisfied that that shampoo was out of her hair. She then started with the conditioner.
What could've Buttercup have said? Blossom frowned into her arms, looking at the mint green tiled walls unhappily. It was probably something about her not returning. Biting her lip in thought, she tightened her grip on her knees. That was most likely it. Her sister most likely said that she was never coming back. But Bubbles wasn't one to hold a grudge. So why would…?
She squeezed her eyes shut before Mrs. Cavadini dumped a bucket of water on her.
"Would you like me to wash your back?" the elder woman asked kindly and Blossom felt like a small child again.
She was twenty years old, for heaven's sake! Even if she felt more like the twelve-year-old she had been all those years ago. Nonetheless, she murmured her consent and accepted the sponge handed to her.
It was as she was washing her arms that Mrs. Cavadini gasped. Blossom's hair was thrown over her shoulder, giving the other woman access to her back.
She paused in her washing to turn around. "Is something wrong?"
Mrs. Cavadini looked up at her, blue eyes wide.
"Blossom," she murmured in a hushed voice. "What happened to your back?"
Bewildered, Blossom attempted to look at her back in vain.
"I don't—"
Her eyes widened as another memory hit her.
"Mark her, slave!"
She gasped, clutching her chest. Mrs. Cavadini gripped her shoulders looking anxious. "Blossom? Blossom!"
She was in a dark room. Her vision was so blurry. Her head felt heavy and fuzzy, as if cotton balls were stuffed inside. She heard his voice and whimpered. He was telling someone to mark her…something about being his. She wasn't sure. It was so hard to focus. But she knew that she wasn't going to be his. No. She would never allow that. Someone was whispering to her, muttering reassurances. Her mind, once fuzzy, flashed red. Then pink. Red. Pink. Red, pink, red, pink, red, pink, red, pink, red, pink. The whispering voice gasped quietly and more reassurances came. Red. Pink. Redpinkredpinkredpinkredpinkredpinkredpinkred
Red…
Pink…
Eyes?
Mrs. Cavadini held Blossom's shoulders as the girl shook. She was holding her head, her fingers digging into her scalp as the memory left her breathless.
Those marks on her back meant something…something special. Why did she see red randomly as well? Pink obviously must mean her. It was her color, but what did red symbolize? Unwittingly, a memory of a short, cap-wearing boy appeared in her mind and Blossom furiously shook her head. Red didn't always have to symbolize him, did it!? This time the memory was of an unwelcome lobster demon and she made a strangled noise.
"Really, mind? Really?" she thought darkly, slowly removing her hands from her hair.
"I…was marked," she said, moving a hand over her shoulder to try to touch it. "I…don't remember what it means though…"
She sounded frustrated and Mrs. Cavadini looked at the girl in front of her with wise eyes. This girl had experienced so much in her life. In actuality, the girl was only fifteen, but, then again, she had been born at five years of age. Even still, Blossom had witnessed and lived through so many things that a normal person couldn't handle. So many things she had experienced and had not gone insane.
Mrs. Cavadini knew that she wouldn't have been able to remain sane after so much. How did this girl, this proud girl, remain sane after so much? She had had her biggest fear thrown in her face, an evil monkey take advantage of her, had her life nearly taken by a boy who could be her twin.
And now that proud girl was trying to piece together an experience that had trumped all of those.
"Post-traumatic stress disorder." Mrs. Cavadini jumped as Blossom voiced what the librarian had been thinking. "That…fits. Yes. Amnesia can set in when someone doesn't want to remember a traumatic experience."
"You are quite smart, Blossom," she remarked, smiling indulgently as she continued washing the young woman's back. They remained quiet for a few moments and Blossom was just starting to wash her legs, frowning at their hairlessness, when Mrs. Cavadini spoke again. "Are you planning on joining the Resistance?"
Blossom paused in her washing, biting her lip in indecision. Her nature told her to join, but she knew Buttercup would want her to stay and be a rebel. She knew the reason behind Buttercup's refusal to join the Resistance and that struck her. Buttercup had never expressed liking her as a leader, even if she hadn't really fought much for the position since they were five. To hear that she had refused to join a literal planet saving organization because she would have to listen to someone else gave her mixed feelings.
Sighing softly, Blossom continued her washing, still thinking over the question.
"I…don't know," she answered finally, gripping the sponge tightly. "If…If I do join, I'm sure I can shoot up through the ranks and get a high enough position so that Buttercup might want to join…"
Mrs. Cavadini frowned and thought darkly, "Not with Brick and Mojo as head officers."
"What!?" Blossom gasped, startling the elder woman as she whipped around. "Brick and Mojo are part of the Resistance!?" Her pink eyes were wide and she stared down at the soapy water in shock. "I would have thought…but…they're…head officers?"
Mrs. Cavadini sighed, ringing out her sponge and filling a cup with water.
"Yes…many villains joined the Resistance if you can believe it," she answered, urging Blossom to turn around. "Mojo, the Rowdyruff Boys, and Princess Morbucks are just a few."
Dropping her head into her hands, the young woman bit back a groan. There was no way Brick would just let her join the Resistance. If he was anything like her, he would give her the fifth degree and even then, he still wouldn't let her in. She would be little better than a civilian, not even. She grumbled darkly and ran her fingers through her hair. There was absolutely no way she would join then.
A part of her felt upset at that aspect and another part praised her on her sense of self-preservation. After all, how did she know that Brick wouldn't just attack first and ask questions later? And if Blossom's power had grown tremendously in that time wherever she had been…then Brick's… She shuddered helplessly, flashing back the time when he was resurrected.
There was so much that she didn't know about the lives of her loved ones. She thought about this as Mrs. Cavadini helped her get out of the tub and dried off. How much had the changed? And how would they react to her reappearance?
Clutching a large dark brown towel around herself, she suddenly remembered the markings on her back and looked towards the matronly woman digging through the cupboard about the toilet. Sitting on the stool, she was shorter than Mrs. Cavadini (who only reached maybe five-two) and she actually had to look up to voice her plea.
"Mrs. Cavadini…could you not tell Buttercup about the marks on my back?" she asked and the librarian frowned, turning her head.
She pulled scissors, a comb, and a hairbrush out of the cabinet before she sighed softly. Her smile felt reassuring as she nodded once.
"Of course, dear. If that's what you want," she responded, walking around behind her.
As Mrs. Cavadini began brushing her hair in rhythmic strokes, Blossom flashed back to the times when Bubbles would do the same thing. Eyes fluttering closed, she let her mind wander back to those times, pretending that Mrs. Cavadini's strokes were Bubbles'. It was pleasant, pretending for a moment that everything was normal, that she was twelve again and she was in her room and her "little" sister was brushing her hair. The dull throb in her chest reminded her that if she hadn't been so careless, then that would be a reality, but as she had been careless…
Blossom gritted her teeth, angry with herself as she remembered how often she reprimanded Buttercup for being reckless.
It took a while for Mrs. Cavadini to brush and comb all of Blossom's hair. That whole time she sat and beat herself up and forced herself to remember, but she couldn't remember much besides the faint clips she already had. For some reason, her mind kept traipsing back to the marks on her back. She really wanted to know what they meant and what the color red had to do with them. They were important, especially when she remembered Aterex telling whoever to mark her as his. Red and pink meant something. They had to.
Blossom clutched the towel tighter, eyes fluttering open as soft footsteps came into the room. She smiled hesitantly at Buttercup who dumped some clothes in the sink.
"Okay, I can't guarantee anything will really fit, seeing as I have no idea what size you are," Buttercup said, crossing her arms, "but I didn't risk grabbing a bra." Blossom opened her mouth, blushing furiously, to complain, but Buttercup cut her off. "I did get you a camisole, though. Hopefully that'll fit okay."
Blossom made a noise in her throat, a cross somewhere between consent and indignation, and glared at her sister. She really didn't want to delve into what Buttercup may be implying with that and glanced quickly at the clothes. Hopefully the green puff had also grabbed underwear for her.
Buttercup only smirked in response, moving her attention to Mrs. Cavadini who was now wielding the scissors.
"What're you doing with those?" Buttercup asked, her voice hushed in terror.
By her tone, one would think that Mrs. Cavadini was threatening to slice Blossom's throat (not that it would work, but I digress).
Mrs. Cavadini gave her a strange look, which was mirrored on Blossom's face.
The librarian looked curiously at the scissors and then back up at Buttercup before answering slowly, "I'm going to cut Blossom's hair, Buttercup…"
"No-no-no-no, Blossom has to have long hair." Buttercup uncrossed her arms, moving closer.
She couldn't see Blossom without the long locks she had ever since they were created. In fact, her sister herself never had any other kind of style. It was always long.
Blossom groaned, somewhat surprised (and flattered) about Buttercup's earnestness. She never realized that Buttercup liked her long hair. She had supposed that the green Powerpuff wouldn't have cared about that. After all, Buttercup's hair was down to her shoulders now, instead of the bob she had for most of their childhood. Shaking her head, she smiled indulgently at her sister.
"It's too long, Buttercup," she said softly, shifting on the stool. "It reaches down to my ankles!" The look of horror was still on Buttercup's face and Blossom bit her lip to keep her laughter in. "I was going ask Mrs. Cavadini to only cut it to waist length, anyway. I'm used to that length."
Buttercup muttered something about Blossom having near ankle length hair when they were five, but nodded finally, conceding to the waist-length proposal.
She stuffed her hands into her pockets, feeling a silky material in one. Frowning in confusion and then resisting the urge to slap herself, Buttercup pulled on the material. It was a dark red color, somewhat faded and a little torn, but it had the recognizable shape of that of a thick ribbon. She rubbed the material between her fingers, before holding it out to Blossom. The redhead blinked in confusion and slowly reached out to take it, keeping the towel wrapped firmly around her.
As Buttercup dropped the ribbon into her outstretched palm, Blossom felt a small burst of satisfaction from her sister. The ribbon, as she gazed at it with a feeling of remembrance, was exactly like the ones she used to wear. Rubbing the material softly, Blossom felt a small warm feeling in her stomach. It was one of her ribbons.
Blinking in an attempt to keep the tears in, she sniffled softly, smiling at the ribbon as if it were an old friend. She chuckled softly at the analogy. What other surprises did Buttercup have in store for her?
"Thanks, Buttercup," Blossom said…only to realize a second later she hadn't spoken aloud.
"No prob," Buttercup responded and Blossom stared wide-eyed at her as Mrs. Cavadini stopped in her cutting.
"Come again?" she asked, frowning at the rebel leader. Buttercup looked at them in confusion.
"What? What I say?"
Blossom frowned, brow furrowing.
"I forgot. My telepathy not only allows me to read minds, but also allows me to project my thoughts into someone else's mind," she recalled, rubbing her lips thoughtfully. "If I remember correctly, I can project my thoughts into a limit of two people's minds simultaneously. And that's the limit of my power: reading and projecting my thoughts."
Buttercup cocked her head, looking at her sister. "Ah, well, y'know ol' Bricky boy will think you can control minds, too. If, y'know, we tell the Resistance about you and all…"
Giggling at the nickname for her counterpart, Blossom smiled at her sister in an incredulous way. "You have to tell the Resistance, Buttercup. You can't keep my existence a secret."
"Why not?" Buttercup asked, fighting the pout she knew was threatening to appear on her face. The smile on Blossom's face made her grumble in defeat. "I know, I know."
"Sooner or later, someone will slip up and say something," Blossom reasoned. "Not to mention if one of the Resistance visits for some reason."
All was quiet except for the snipping of the scissors. Buttercup was now full on pouting, knowing that Blossom was right. She just didn't want to tell the Resistance, not only for the reason she told Mitch, but also because she wanted to protect Blossom.
After eight years, Blossom shows up and claims that she can't remember where she's been? Oh, yes, that'll go down well with Brick. See, it wasn't Mojo one had to please at the Resistance, it was Brick, and Buttercup knew that Brick was as paranoid as Blossom was. She didn't want Blossom being questioned about where she had been and her trustworthiness. It was one thing she was certain that Brick would do.
The green puff jumped when she noticed Blossom looking at her with a curious expression.
"…I should be ripping you a new one about trusting me so quickly, shouldn't I?" she remarked, looking amused. "I really should, but…" There was a soft smile that Buttercup knew meant that Blossom wasn't going to do anything. "But I'll let it slide because I'm happy that you do trust me despite all that's happened."
"Hey, those Resistance bastards are suspicious enough for both teams," Buttercup said, shrugging. "Why should I be suspicious of someone who would fight tooth and nail if anyone tried to control her?"
Blossom smiled warmly at her sister and Mrs. Cavadini announced that she was finished. Placing the scissors down, the older woman put her hands on her hips, looking down at the large pile of hair at her feet. The look on her face was one of utter perplexity.
Buttercup also dropped her gaze down to the pile of auburn locks and raised an eyebrow. Noticing the look of amazement on her sister's face, Blossom followed her gaze and winced a little bit. There was probably a reason why her hair had been allowed to grow to such a length.
"So…what are we going to do with nearly three feet of hair?" Buttercup asked finally, still looking at the pile of hair. "Burn it?"
"Unless you're going to make Fluffy the hair bunny," Blossom remarked, giving her sister a look. Buttercup snorted in response, grinning widely.
"Or a racetrack?" she said, receiving an annoyed look from the redhead. "Okay, burning it is."
After a few moments dillydallying, Buttercup finally left the room, grumbling about Blossom's hair, which said redhead found highly amusing. Hadn't the green puff just been complaining a moment ago about Blossom's hair being cut?
As Mrs. Cavadini closed the door, Blossom stood, still holding the towel around her. She pawed through the clothes Buttercup brought, frowning at the selections. Of the clothes there, there was a red plaid button down shirt, a white camisole, some jeans, a belt, a pair of underwear, and some socks. A sigh escaping her mouth, Blossom raised an eyebrow at the lack of footwear. She had only been wearing thin silken slippers when she escaped, which weren't of much use outside of the house. Thankfully, her body was highly durable so the soles of her feet were fine, but even still. Just socks?
Shaking her head, Blossom proceeded to get dressed, finally allowing the towel to drop. For some reason, she felt self-conscious, even though Mrs. Cavadini had just helped bathe her, and tried to ignore the other woman. Thankfully, she was looking the other way and Blossom let out a small sigh of relief. Grabbing the underwear and camisole, she pulled the two articles of clothing on. She dressed quickly and frowned down at the pants she was wearing. They were a little too big and Blossom was impressed by Buttercup's foresight at grabbing the belt. She still wondered why she only had socks though.
"Would you like me to tie your hair up?" Mrs. Cavadini beckoned for the pink puff to sit and, doing so, Blossom felt herself relax as the deft hands began brushing her hair again.
Knock, knock.
The door began opening and Buttercup popped her head in.
"Everyone decent?" she asked as she came in.
This received a raised eyebrow from Blossom as Mrs. Cavadini just chuckled and shook her head.
A few moments later, Mrs. Cavadini finished ("There") and Buttercup was dragging Blossom out of the bathroom and down the hall. Blinking in confusion at how she got into this predicament, Blossom looked around at the hall, which she noticed was becoming a little wider and the tiled floor suddenly gave way to industrial carpeting. She attempted to question where they were going, but Buttercup just shushed her, refusing to answer any pestering.
Her sister continued to drag her around until they reached what had to the ground floor for the adult section of the library. In the middle of the room, where the information desk would have been, tables had been pushed together and Blossom stared, trying to comprehend what she was looking at. It looked like some kind of feast or party and she turned to her sister, in an attempt to understand the sight.
"Surprise?" Buttercup said when she noticed Blossom's gaze. "Well, y'know. It's a welcome back party…I guess…"
Shaking her head, Blossom looked at the table with a small smile on her face. There were maybe thirty people present and there were faces that she's recognized. There was Mitch and Harry and the Floydjoydsen twins and Kim and a few other people she recognized. And then there were others she wasn't quite sure about, but Blossom supposed that Buttercup would introduce her in due time. Looking at their faces, she noticed that none, for some reason, showed fear. A knot formed in her stomach and Blossom felt tears prick her eyes yet again.
"You…didn't have to…" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes and squeezing Buttercup's hand.
"I guess I didn't have to," Buttercup conceded leading her closer. She turned to Blossom and smiled at her in that soft way that she reserved only for her sisters and children. "I wanted to."
As they stopped in front of the table, a series of shouts and gasps aroused. Many rushed forward to Blossom, giving her hugs and pats on the back. Kim even came and, taking her hand from Buttercup's, lead her to a seat at the head of the table.
Blossom felt her cheeks warming as she sat and, watching the others seat themselves, felt the familiar warmth in her chest. Gently clutching the fabric above her heart, Blossom smiled at the people gathered. She knew this feeling, knew it well. It was the feeling that the Professor and her sisters had brought many times before. The warm feeling made her feel at home.
And that's exactly where she was.
She was finally home.