Storm

by kiebs

Aliens invade Townsville and Blossom disappears. Eight years later, everything has drastically changed. When Buttercup, now a rebel leader, finds Blossom on a random patrol, everything changes. Where has Blossom been? And why can't she remember?

14. Beware the Jabberwock

Storm

Sooooooo, uh, hi! How's everyone doing? I did not mean to take a year to update this, but, uh, here's the newest chapter! Let's just say 2020 was rough, parts of this chapter were fighting me, and burnout induced creative block suuuuuuucks.

In any case, please enjoy this long awaited chapter! :D

---

Chapter 13: Beware the Jabberwock

The door slammed behind Brick as he stormed over to where Mojo and the Professor were still yelling at each other. He knew his creator was insane, but he had never figured he would be this fucking reckless. Ash coated his tongue and throat. Smoke billowed in his peripheral vision, but he didn't care if he looked like an angry locomotive.

He grabbed Mojo by the front of his stupid little jacket and lifted him up so he was eyelevel with him. Mojo yelped.

"Are you out of your God damned mind!?" he snarled. "You brought a fucking alien into my fucking base!?"

"Urk! It's for science, you ungrateful—AH!"

Mojo groaned and rubbed his back. Those bloodshot eyes glared up at him.

Brick snarled back.

"Science!? SCIENCE!? You brought one of the gold motherfuckers here!" He clenched his fists, feeling the tremble in them. "Do you not remember what those things can do!?"

"If you would let me talk, that is speak, that is explain myself—"

"You have ten seconds."

"Oh, you ungrateful—!"

"Nine."

"This is how you treat your creator? The one who made you? Your father?"

"Six."

"You ain't our fucking father," Butch growled from Brick's left.

"Four."

"All right! All right, all right, all right! Yes! I admit that bringing an alien, that is to say a live alien, furthermore an alien that is alive, isn't the smartest move," Mojo said, waving his hands. "But think of what we can learn from live blood! They are…They are like you three and the Powerpuff Girls! They are strong and fast, they can fly! They even can have powers! None of our blood samples ever last the trip from the battlefields. They decay too fast. That is to say they degrade, or rather become unusable. Or that's what we believed until I upgraded Lieutenant Believe's supersuit."

Brick narrowed his eyes before they swung to Mike.

Mike flinched, but crossed his arms all the same. His mouth twisted and he met his glare. At least he didn't look proud to have accepted Mojo's "upgrade".

"We were ambushed and the gun got damaged," he explained lowly. He shifted uneasily, but his eyes never left Brick's. "Mojo had a...prototype freeze ray of all things and—"

"Surely you noticed that the aliens aren't active in winter," Mojo cut in. "They do not like it. That is to say, they do not like the cold, the snow, anything Christmas related."

"Snow isn't really a Christmas thing…" Boomer muttered.

"We noticed," Brick growled, ignoring his brother. "But what does that have to do with you bringing a live fucking alien into my fucking base!?"

"Honestly! You should control that temper of yours, my eldest!" the chimp huffed. "To think that I, Mojo Jojo, created such an angry child!"

"Old man, you have three seconds before I show you just how angry I can be," Brick hissed.

Heat built in his throat and behind his eyes. He didn't need to see Mojo flinch to know that they were glowing.

"As I said," the old chimp grumbled as he dusted himself off, "I brought one of those vermin here to study it while it's alive. That way I, Mojo Jojo, can examine it while it breathes and blood flows as all samples taken from battle decay exponentially fast! But with it cryogenically frozen like that, we can discover a way to defeat those aliens! That is to say kick their butts, or, if you prefer, destroy them!"

Brick did not like that glare Mojo shot him at that. He did not like the implication in those bloodshot, watery eyes.

He also didn't like the alien feet behind him, locked in a room as it was. His shoulders stiffened, as if he could feel those frosted eyes, and he hated it. Those gauntlets had looked familiar, the scratches over the intricate designs in them flashing through his mind. He hoped it wasn't the alien he thought it was. He would beg any higher being, anything, that it wasn't the alien he thought it was.

"And...what to you propose you can learn from...that?" he bit out.

The Professor squawked in indignation.

"Brick, you can't be seriously considering having one of those—! One of those things in here!" he cried. "Think of what could happen! Think of—!"

His mouth snapped shut, but Brick knew who the scientist was going to say. As if that name wasn't burned into his mind at this point from everyone yapping at him about her. As if she hadn't been haunting him for years now.

Nevertheless, he had a point. Who knew what that alien would do to get its hands on Pinky. Having it here posed a bigger threat with the added factor of his counterpart, but only if he let her near it. If she stayed away from the lab and Mojo could get his samples…

They really didn't know a lot about the aliens and Pinky and her amnesia did little for them. What use was knowing their culture? What they really needed to know was their biology and how to counteract it.

"Two days," he finally said and Professor Utonium stared at him in shock. Brick dropped his eyes to Mojo. "You have two days to get whatever samples you need and then I'm personally going to dispose of that thing."

A sinister smile cut across Mojo's face. He really didn't know how not to appear evil sometimes.

"Excellent choice, my son," he said and tapped his fingers together as he chuckled.

"Brick!" Boomer cried.

"Are you insane?" Mike hissed.

"Bossman—," Butch began.

One glare silenced all of them.

"We need to win this war," Brick answered and tried to ignore the ache from clenching his fists so tightly. "Find out how we can weaponize the aliens' weakness to the cold, Mojo. Remember. Two days."

"Yes, yes, yes, two days. Puh-lease, I've done much more difficult tasks in a shorter time!" the chimp scoffed.

Brick shared an unimpressed look with Butch.

"Get to it then," he said, but Mojo was already muttering to himself and heading in the direction of the temperature controlled room.

He sighed lowly and rubbed his face. Letting his hands drop, the disappointed countenances of both Mike and Professor Utonium greeted him. He tried not to grimace or let the twist in his stomach show.

"Are you fucking serious?" Mike growled.

"You risked your life getting that thing here," Brick countered. "The very least we can do is examine it before we kill it. Where is Brigadier General Bellum?"

"She went with the soldiers that were injured. Don't change the subject!" Mike slashed his hand in front of him. "You can't allow this! Brick, this is insanity!"

"Then you should have killed it, Lieutenant," he answered, rubbing his forehead. "Look, I understand your worry, Mike. I do, but it's here now and to appease Mojo so he doesn't do something drastic, let him take his samples." He looked towards the Professor and hated how his stomach swirled at his disappointment. "Professor, I need you to help with that. This is an important breakthrough. Mojo is right. The aliens don't like the cold. They don't like ice."

For a long, long moment, the older man only stared at him with narrowed eyes. His shoulders were tense, but as his words sunk in, they lowered. He blinked rapidly at him and his eyes widened.

"They never appear in winter. That's what the reports say," he murmured and covered his mouth. His eyes dropped. "And they… Ice… Could that…?"

"It had to have been planned." The heat returned to his chest. He tried his best to swallow it down. "That would be too coincidental."

Their eyes met.

"I don't like that," the Professor said and his expression wavered. His sigh shook. "I really do not like that."

"Neither do I," Brick admitted. He inclined his head towards the older man. "So…please, Professor. Keep an eye on Mojo so he doesn't do something insane. Like inject himself or someone with the blood."

Professor Utonium's face went gray. He shuddered.

"You have a good point," he murmured and rubbed his face. "All right. I'll keep an eye on him. But I still do not condone this, Brick."

Their eyes met once again, both stone faced and resolute. The Professor's gaze wavered despite that, but this was the man who had created Chemical X, who had lived with three superheroes. He had made it an art of balancing determination and trepidation.

Brick had become privy to that quite intimately over the years. The Professor had become a pillar just as much as General Portman and Brigadier General Bellum had.

"I know," Brick agreed, letting his voice soften just for the man before him. "This isn't my ideal choice, but it's here now."

The Professor nodded, but his eyes narrowed at something over Brick's shoulder. Probably whatever Mojo was doing. He sighed again.

Patting Brick's shoulder as he moved past, he murmured, "Do not let Blossom near the lab until that alien is gone."

His grip tightened, but human strength was nothing to a superhuman.

Brick stiffened all the same.

He managed a nod and a soft affirmative. The grip loosened and patted once more before the Professor was off to chaperone Mojo.

Brick sighed and rubbed his face. Everything from his shoulders to his toes felt stiff. A dull ache began to throb in the base of skull. In that moment, he was Atlas and his grasp on the world threatened to fail because of a monkey with an ego problem.

Sleep never sounded so good. Sleep and a couple glasses of whiskey.

Procedure had to be done, though. He didn't have time for naps or alcohol, as much as the latter appealed to him. Maybe he would indulge later, after he got that briefing.

He turned.

"All right, Lieuten—"

And stopped.

Boomer stood at attention and offered him a nervous smile.

Both Butch and Mike were missing.

"Mike, uh, Lieutenant Believe left with Butch," his brother told him and pointed at the door. "Something about...finding...Robin?"

Brick felt his eye twitch. His head throbbed.

"Those assholes."

---

Thankfully, neither of said assholes had gotten very far, the combination of Brick bursting out of the lab like a bat out of hell and Mike being very, very human and not using Butch as a free ride.

"LIEUTENANT!"

"Oh, now I exist?" Mike huffed and met Brick's glare. "Look, I'm tired, General, and I would like to see my girlfriend, who, if you don't remember, I haven't seen in a year! So my report is going to have to wait!"

"People's lives are at stake, Believe! You can see Nurse Snyder later, once you give me a full debriefing of your mission!"

"People's lives are always at stake! We're in a fucking war, Brick! Twelve hours isn't going to hurt anyone!"

"You are not giving me your fucking report at 3 in the fucking morning!"

"Why not! A little birdy told me someone isn't fucking sleeping!"

Brick's eyes narrowed, but Mike didn't back down. His lieutenant broadened his shoulders and lifted his chin, eyes flashing.

They immediately returned to squabbling, which Brick would be infuriated and almost embarrassed with if he wasn't so stressed. He needed to know what had transpired during Mike's trip with Mojo, what had caused Mojo to come to the same conclusion he had, and why the chimp had the ever so insane idea to bring an alien into his base. That went beyond risking civilian safety. This bordered a return to supervillain behavior, where only the outcome mattered and the means meant nothing.

Admittedly, their argument was very juvenile, a devolution into name calling and other assorted insults when they couldn't think of anything else to throw at each other. Neither of his brothers thankfully joined in, even if he caught Butch poorly hiding his own snickers.

This was also Brick and Mike's awkward way of catching up to each other, if he was honest. Outside of a certain person, Mike was the only other person who didn't back down from his glare. Bubbles, admittedly, didn't count.

Siblings didn't count.

"The library?" Boomer abruptly spoke up.

Before them was indeed the doors to the library, which Butch sailed through with a simple "yup".

Brick frowned.

"Why would my lovebird be in the library?" Mike asked.

Boomer's eyes darted to Brick. He cleared his throat, but didn't answer when Brick narrowed his eyes at him.

There was a simple answer if he remembered Boomer's reports from the past couple of weeks. His brother wasn't meeting his eyes anymore and hurried in after Butch.

Mike followed at a more sedate pace, their argument already forgotten, especially now that prospect of seeing Robin was so close. Even lined with fatigue and eyes shadowed with bruises, his whole countenance lit up and his step bounced.

In contrast, Brick's muscles began to tense, especially as he watched his middle brother maneuver through the library without so much as a pause. As if he already knew where to go or an unheard voice was feeding him directions. His fists clenched and unclenched, ears roaring despite Mike making some kind of comment.

Boomer answered, but all Brick could focus on was Butch trotting over to a table on the second floor of the library. Four women sat around it, a sight that was so familiar his stomach turned and his frown twisted into a grimace. Even the two soldiers bookending one couldn't stop the jolt of what may have been nostalgia.

Mike, of course, only saw one. Then again, Robin only saw him, too.

"Mikey!?" she cried, leaping from her seat.

"Robbie!" he sang back and the two collided, Mike scooping her into his arms and literally spinning her. "Oh, I've missed you!"

"That's my line, you dummy!" she laughed.

And then they were kissing and Brick had to keep himself from rolling his eyes.

Boomer averted his own eyes, but a smile curved up his lips. Butch had taken a very conspicuous spot next to Buttercup, feet on the table and grinning widely at the couple.

Brick narrowed his eyes at him.

"Feet off the table, asswipe," Buttercup grunted and shoved his legs.

He stubbornly kept them there, but one look from Pinky of all people had him sitting properly. He grinned cheekily at her, to which she huffed a laugh.

Brick's blood buzzed. He turned to Bubbles.

For her part, she didn't stand down from his look. Her expression didn't change at all from the amusement she had directed towards their colleagues. Instead, she inclined her head to the two kissing next to him and furrowed her eyebrows. Her fingers began to tap the table.

His knuckles complained from how tight they were. He gave a short nod.

Her fingers stilled and curled. Her mouth pressed into a line.

That seemed to be the general consensus with Mojo's return. He and his brothers' disdain for the chimp aside, Bubbles and Mojo had a very rough relationship. She had been fine in the beginning when Buttercup had been there, but as soon as she had left… Well, Brick had heard Mojo mumble something about 'hardcore' and the simian genius had avoided Bubbles for the greater part of the last six years.

Speaking of avoiding things, Brick rubbed his face. If he was to avoid a meltdown on the scale of Chernobyl, he was going to need both Bubbles' and Boomer's help.

"Lieu—," he began and snapped his mouth shut as Buttercup remarked, "Wow, they can really hold their breaths."

Something shot down his spine at the scolding, "Buttercup."

That's right. He hadn't actually spoken with her in a full two weeks. He had made sure never to be near her. It was safer that way. Because heat gathered at her voice alone, a buildup of burning in his chest and throat. It felt different than the heat with Mojo, but his anger with Pinky had always been different.

Of course, Buttercup's comment drew Mike out of his Robin-induced haze. The lieutenant resurfaced with a flushed face and wide eyes.

"Wait, did I hear Butter—?" he began and froze, mouth dropping.

"Long time no see, Believe." Buttercup grinned and propped her head up. "You missed quuuite a bit."

Pinky for her part smiled demurely, inclining her head in a brief nod. Her face softened.

"Hello, Mike," she greeted and Brick's stomach twisted. "It's been awhile."

Mike continued to stare, mouth still agape until it snapped shut with a hitched breath. Tears pooled in his eyes and he covered his mouth.

Brick felt his expression fall flat as Mike rushed past him towards the table. He stiffened at Pinky's surprised yelp when Mike enveloped her in a hug that took her clear out of her chair.

Right. Mike was a crybaby, wasn't he?

The heat bubbled at his lieutenant rocking back and forth, babbling something that he couldn't make out through his sobs. He was curled around his smaller counterpart, shoulders shaking the whole time. She patted his back with a fondly exasperated smile, a smile that read she was used to such blubbering.

Brick crossed his arms at the sight, fingers tapping a fast, irritated rhythm. He gritted his teeth and turned.

"Boomer, Bubbles, come with me," he barked and walked into the stacks nearby.

A moment later, both blonds followed. Boomer was fidgeting again, tugging on his jacket cuffs, while Bubbles looked curiously at him.

"What is it, General?" she asked, standing at attention.

"This is more so for you, Sergeant, but I want you both to keep Pin-Blossom from the Professor's lab for the next two days," he said softly.

Boomer's eyebrows rose, but he nodded.

On the other hand, Bubbles' face darkened. She frowned.

"And why, pray tell, would I do that?" she demanded. She crossed her arms as well. "Brick, you cannot keep my sister from our father!"

Venom dripped from her voice. A scowl twisted her face and her eyes flickered dangerously.

It took Brick a moment to collect himself at the sheer anger in her glare.

"That isn't what this is about, Lieutenant," he answered after a moment. He glanced over her head before lowering his voice, "Mojo brought a…lab rat back with him. And it is something I do not want Blossom near."

The glow that had been collecting in her eyes dimmed. She frowned.

"Lab rat?"

Brick shared a look with Boomer, who grimaced.

"He wanted samples," Boomer muttered. "Live samples."

Bubbles whipped towards him. "Excuse me?"

Pale blue energy arced up her arms.

Boomer lurched backwards, but weirdly a blush colored his cheeks. He swallowed and held up his hands as the tiny woman, who could and had taken them both down, advanced a step.

Brick raised an eyebrow and cleared his throat. That was a reaction he hadn't expected. From either of them. Bubbles usually was much more reserved in her anger and Boomer…

Well, Brick didn't really need to know about his brother's kinks.

"Mojo has always been an..." he paused, searching for the word, before sighing in frustration. "An overachiever. He came to a similar conclusion as I did and you know how he is."

Her nose wrinkled.

"Mojo has always been...driven," she mumbled. "Did he really...? One of...of them?"

"Yes. It's in a cryogenic freeze," he explained before meeting her eyes. "Bubbles. They don't like the cold."

She froze. She stared at him with wide eyes, her mouth slowly dropping as that registered. Her expression mirrored the dawning horror her father had had at the same realization. Her lips shook for a moment before something steeled in her, like a frost coating water.

Her mouth snapped shut. Blue electricity lit up her eyes. Arcs of power shot up and down her arms.

Unlike his brother or her sister, she did not move. She only stood and trembled, power leaking from her and charging the air.

"Oh, those-those—," she snarled and closed her eyes. Her next breath hissed before she rubbed her face. "All right. Okay. I...will help keep Blossom away from the Professor's lab. You said for only two days, right, General?"

Her eyes still glowed but her face had returned to the carefully schooled nonchalance she usually wore. Her hands dropped to her sides.

"Yes, I gave Mojo two days to gather his samples and then I will personally dispose of his...rat," he answered, feeling the heat froth in his chest. "I am not pleased with this either, Lieutenant."

"I would hope so," she said. "I don't condone this."

"Neither does the Professor," Boomer spoke up. His eyes met Brick's. "Neither do I."

Brick didn't enjoy the defiance in his tone.

"It's only for two days, Sergeant," he reminded in a clipped tone. "...Blossom has permission to use the simulator in the training room if she needs it. I will pass that along to the technicians later."

Boomer nodded. "Yes, General."

"Now, if my erstwhile lieutenant would stop blubbering, I would like his report," Brick muttered.

Bubbles had no qualms slapping his arm.

"Just because you have issues with my sister doesn't mean everyone else does," she scolded and he marveled at her sudden defense of Pinky. "Don't give me that look. She's my sister, Brick. I...missed her too."

Something twisted at that. He didn't really know what, but he suddenly remembered a dark room and a pink blanket. He remembered Bubbles curled against his back, or against Butch's or Boomer's, and her nightmare induced whimpers. A soft face had become colder and colder as they aged, something he had long shoved aside as disturbing. They were at war.

Even Joy and Laughter became scarce during war.

"As soon as he gives me his report, he can soak her hair all he wants," Brick grumbled. "This impromptu meeting is dismissed."

Both Boomer and Bubbles saluted him. He ignored the twinge that caused and saluted them back.

Mike was still sobbing over Pinky when they returned. Robin and Anoush looked on with fond expressions while Peterson, the other guard, and Pinky herself looked almost annoyed.

Butch and Buttercup, however, narrowed their eyes at them. The latter looked the more suspicious, her whole body visibly tense. Butch, on the other hand, was completely nonchalant, arms crossed and slouched in his seat.

Brick ignored them both.

"Lieutenant Believe, if you are quite done, I would like your report," he snapped.

Mike's face was positively horrendous, red and splotchy with tears still running down his cheeks. Brick had no idea how his counterpart wasn't recoiling in horror at the snot that his lieutenant kept snorting. He remembered almost fondly a time where all he had to do was spit a little and Pinky would be running away in disgust.

Mike's lower lip trembled.

"You put a ban on Blossom?" he cried, affronted. "On Blossom, Brick!?"

Brick pinched the bridge of his nose.

Of all the people in this base, he had thought that Mike would understand his reasoning. Blossom had been gone for eight years, had been taken by the aliens, and she had amnesia. The knowledge of the drug aside, they had to be cautious. Brick had to be cautious. Too much hung in the balance for him to let her arrival distract him. The Big Strike was only months away and no matter what Boomer or Butch claimed, he couldn't allow her near the aliens.

He wouldn't let her near the aliens. Keeping her nice and safe inside the Resistance was a much better option than letting something happen on the field.

"It's a precaution—," he began.

"But it's Blossom!" Mike cut him off, releasing Pinky so he could wave his arms. "Do you really think Blossom could be a threat!?"

Brick's eyes jumped to the small grimace on her face. It was barely there for a second before her face smoothed out, but he couldn't help noticing the bags under her eyes, the faint stiffness to her shoulders, and the way she plucked at her sleeve. Anyone else would probably dismiss that as a rough night or a nervous tick from attention turning to her, but he had long since become accustomed to noticing every vulnerability in her. He could dismiss it as such, but her skin was too pale, her eyes too haunted, and everything in him screamed wrong. That was not just a rough night.

Mike was still scolding him, but Brick had heard all the same things with much more colorful language from Buttercup over the past month and a half. He narrowed his eyes at the woman next to his lieutenant. Her behavior more resembled a lamb than the defiant leader from weeks ago. She wouldn't meet his eyes, instead focused on Mike and his rant. Her expression remained schooled into polite fondness, if not some annoyance, but nothing that would draw attention.

Nothing too overt, nothing that would scream defiant or confident or upset. Polite, demure, and…blank.

Brick's skin itched. His jaw clenched.

Wrong. That was all wrong. Pinky wasn't supposed to be a wallflower. She stood out. She led, she commanded. She did not huddle down and pretend she was smaller than she was. The heat crackled in his chest.

His eyes darted to the table because if he stared any harder, he may accidentally eyebeam her. A stack of books sat there, a collection of titles that immediately stood out to him. Every single one was historical fiction. He didn't know all of the plots, but at least two he recognized as war stories. His eyes narrowed again.

"I didn't take you as one for historical fiction, Pinky," he spoke up, cutting off Mike mid-tirade.

Pinky looked startled for a moment before she narrowed her eyes.

"…they do say one should learn from history," she said slowly. "There's nothing wrong with reading a few books."

"Oh, what? You're gonna fucking limit what Blossom can read now?" Buttercup hissed before he could respond.

Her eyes glowed acid green. A scowl sat heavy on her face, but then again, he didn't think she could make any other kind of facial expression in his presence.

"You may think me a dictator, Buttercup, but even I wouldn't ban someone from knowledge," he answered. "I just found her choice of literature…interesting."

"Because of the war stories." Pinky's voice was flat, a monotonous sound that hid a challenging undercurrent. Sparks popped up his throat when she crossed her arms and leveled a familiar incredulous glower his way. "There is no harm in me…reading such stories. I know I am not allowed to join the Resistance like that. You have nothing to worry about, General."

Good. Good.

That unimpressed personage was infinitely better than the shy little lamb act. This was his counterpart.

"What!?" Mike screeched, head whipping between the two of them. His flabbergasted countenance settled on Brick. "Brick! Are you serious!? That's—! That's the Commander and Leader!"

Blossom blushed.

Brick narrowed his eyes.

"As I said, Lieutenant, it is a precaution," he explained tiredly. He had to explain that once too many times already, but, well, of course something about Pinky made everyone forget just what rank he was. Honestly. "We can discuss it more after your briefing, if you so desire."

"Oh, you bet your ass we're going to discuss!" Mike snapped. He twisted to scowl at Bubbles. "Bubbles! How could you let him do that?"

Bubbles shifted uncomfortably before sighing and lifting her chin. Her usually schooled expression crinkled with unease, but her mouth opened to respond all the same.

Blossom spoke before she could.

"Both my sisters and I are aware of the caution that needs to be taken with me," she explained. "Mike, I understand you're upset, but my…memories are fuzzy. You…are aware that the aliens had…abducted me, right?"

Mike paled.

"They… No…you… That's why…?" His voice was hush with horror. When she nodded, more tears pooled in his eyes. "Oh… Blossom…"

Pinky's face twisted into something almost…heartbroken. Her eyes fell to the ground between them.

The sparks sputtered at the sight. It made Brick feel sick to his stomach, seeing such a gut-wrenching expression on her face. Ash coated his tongue.

Brick clenched his fists and took a breath.

"Lieutenant," he called and Mike stared at him almost uncomprehendingly. His face softened despite himself. "I will fill you in. Let…Pinky relax with her sisters."

He more felt than saw the awe in the stares directed at him.

"Holy shit," Butch murmured.

Brick narrowed his eyes at him. "Sergeant Jojo, Lieutenant Believe, my office if you will."

"Oh, you ass!"

"But—! Brick!"

"Ladies, Sergeant, enjoy your evening," he said before turning on his heel.

"Brick Jojo, you better let me have my boyfriend tonight!" Robin called after him.

"Robin, please, your thoughts are-are very loud!" Pinky squeaked.

Heat flashed through Brick's body. His knuckles complained from how tight they were.

"Nurse Snyder, don't you have a job to do?" he snapped.

"It's my day off, buster! Tonight! Nineteen-hundred! I better have my boyfriend!"

He paused and glowered over his shoulder. "I am your general, you know."

"And I'm your damned doctor, General," Robin huffed, hands on her hips. "Nineteen. Hundred. Brick."

She met his glare and he rolled his eyes.

"Come along, Lieutenant," he grumbled.

---

Robin was very happy. She had been riding the wave of euphoria from having her best friend back, bans be damned, but having her boyfriend back took the whole damn bakery.

Last night had been wonderful, even if Brick was a spiteful jerk and had purposely let her have her boyfriend at nineteen-hundred and thirty. At least he had fed Mike, but that had taken away Robin's time to catch up before her hands did the talking. It had been a year, after all, and it was so very nice having a warm body in her bed again. So very nice and so very nicely built from all that training with their superpowered friends and no, Robin had work to do. She could not stand there and daydream about her boyfriend and his cute butt when she had patients to check on.

Nodding firmly to herself, she made her way over to her first patient of the day.

"Morning, Pablo! How are you doing?" she greeted with a smile.

Pablo smiled back at her groggily. His left arm was in a sling and she knew from the file in her hands that bandages crisscrossed his whole upper body. Some peeked out from the collar of his gown, but other than his arms and a few broken ribs, he was amazingly unscathed.

Still, the wounds he did have brought a sting to her chest. According to his own words, Pablo had gotten hurt protecting her Mike and she would be forever grateful to him.

She had just gotten Blossom back. She couldn't lose Mike. She wouldn't lose Mike. Neither Brick nor Bubbles would allow that either.

Like how she was Blossom's best friend, Mike had been Bubbles'. She supposed she shouldn't use past tense with that friendship, but Bubbles had attached herself to Brick for so many years now that the friendship between herself and Mike had gotten strained. Nevertheless, it wasn't often the base didn't see the three of them together. Mike had always been stubborn, especially after he finally opened up to people, and he had refused to let Bubbles wall herself away.

In doing so, he had inadvertently glued himself to Brick as well.

Robin just hadn't been able to deal with Brick. Sure, she was the "leader" friend, but there had been too many blooming similarities between the General and Blossom for her to develop the bond that Mike now had. There was only so many similarities one could take before one broke down.

And Robin couldn't break down.

"Robin?"

She jumped.

Pablo stared up at her with a worried frown.

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry, Pablo," she apologized before attempting a sheepish smile. "I'm still waking up."

Despite the grogginess on his face, a mischievous smirk unfurled.

"Oh, did the lieutenant keep you up last night?" he teased.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but her own smile fought its way out. "You hush. Is that anyway to talk to your nurse?"

"I'm just asking as a concerned citizen."

"Uh-huh." She rolled her eyes and looked down at her tablet. She flicked through his file. "Anyway, how are you feeling?"

"Well, the morphine is doing wonders," he said and winced when he shifted. "But sore. Very...sore."

She frowned at him.

"Pablo, how long have we known each other?" she asked and his wince grew. "Yeah, thought so. I know you're full of it so give me a clear answer."

He sunk as much as he could into his bed. "Still hurts pretty badly, nurse."

"Men," she muttered under her breath. Louder, she continued, "All right. We'll continue to keep you here until those ribs heal up a bit more." She jabbed her finger at him. "And let me know, mister, if there's any discomfort!"

"Yes, Robin."

Footsteps stopped behind her. Someone leaned over her shoulder.

A smile lifted her lips as she jotted a note down in her tablet.

"Are you being mean to my solider, Bones?" Mike intoned lowly.

"Now, Lieutenant Believe, I do believe you are a bit too close," she remarked and pushed his face back without turning around. "And I am quite simply reminding our dear corporal that he shouldn't downplay his pain as we need everyone to be at one hundred percent per the General's orders."

"Ah, of course." His voice trailed before he cleared his throat. "Thank you again, Corporal Valdez. You didn't have to do that."

"A broken arm is better than a KIA, Lieutenant," Pablo countered, his voice firm despite its medicated slur.

Robin couldn't help the twitch at those three letters. Her fingers tapped an irritated beat on her tablet as she fought the bile back down her throat. Her stomach roiled at the mere mention of them, especially in any form connected to her dear Mike. She never wanted to think of that, never wanted to prepare herself for that. She didn't care the percentage or likelihood. She just couldn't.

Mike blew out a breath, that irritated sigh through his nose that he had long since picked up from Brick. She let herself be amused at that, even as her mind plucked an irritated song at those letters. Anything to keep that fear at bay. Anything to remember (or, more correctly, forget) that a war raged above their heads.

"Corporal," he began lowly.

She knew that tone. It was the authoritative tone he had had to adopt ever since he had gotten his rank.

Daintily clearing her throat, she murmured, "I'll give you two a moment."

Their murmuring followed her as she continued her rounds, checking on the wounded from Mike's unit and the other personnel who had ended up in the medical bay. As she was checking on a storage worker who had a bad case of food poisoning, about which Robin made a point to send a message to the kitchen crew, her ears twitched at the sound of familiar footsteps. Patting the poor man's hand, she excused herself and quirked an eyebrow at her boyfriend.

He lifted his in response.

Snorting, she tilted her head and walked towards the desks clustered in the center and front of the medical bay. She settled herself at her station and immediately hooked up her tablet to the terminal.

Mike shifted next to her. After a few minutes of her blatantly ignoring him, he cleared his throat.

Robin grinned.

"Yes, honey?" she cooed.

Placing his palm onto her desk, he leaned down towards her. "Isn't there anywhere…private we could go?"

His voice was barely a whisper, but Robin gasped all the same and made a small show of glancing around. She even clutched imaginary pearls, eyes wide when she looked back at him.

"Why! Lieutenant!" she softly cried, but a mischievous grin marred her faux surprise. "What are you suggesting?"

Mike smirked at her and leaned even lower. "Well—"

"Good morning, General!" one of her fellow nurses chirped, followed by a chorus from the other medical personnel.

The color drained from Mike's face.

"Fuck!" he hissed and dove behind her chair. "Oh, son of a fiery bitch fuck!"

Robin blinked at the empty space her boyfriend had occupied before ever so slowly turning to peer down at him.

He was crouched next to her chair, holding the arm and the side as he looked around it. A grimace colored his face as his eyes darted around. Honestly, it was quite impressive he managed to squish his six-foot lanky frame down like that.

Considering who he was hiding from, she also wasn't surprised.

"Really, Michael?" she sighed and rolled her eyes when he shushed her.

"Shhh! He'll hear you!" he hissed. "I'm allowed a couple days off, aren't I? Man's a slave driver, I swear! I'll be there when—"

A closer voice piped up, "So what brings you here, General?"

Mike's jaw snapped closed with an audible click. He began inching backwards.

"I'm looking for Lieutenant Believe. You haven't happened to see him, Doctor Baker?"

Robin's mentor, and head of the medical bay, hummed. It was a deliberating sound, which meant she didn't have much time. Doctor Baker was a small, mousy man, after all, shorter than Robin, just around Bubbles' height. He looked like someone's jolly great-uncle, the kind with a thick mustache and laugh lines around his eyes. She always vaguely wondered if he might have been a distant relative of the old Mayor, but no one had seen Mayor Mayer since the invasion so she had never been able to confirm that. There was no way the small man would be able to stop Brick if he really wanted to get into the infirmary.

Rolling her eyes heavenward, Robin nonetheless kissed her fingers and pressed them to Mike's cheek. In one movement, she snatched her tablet and was on her feet, not looking back as she made her way to the end of the cluster of cubicles. The things she did to keep her boyfriend alive.

Plastering on her best smile, she rounded the corner.

Brick stood with Doctor Baker just beyond the cluster of personal workstations, right near what they all nicknamed the Gate. It was just the secretary desk, where higher ups could easily ask about personnel without having to step a foot farther, but seeing as not many people liked visiting unless necessary, whoever was stationed there kept out those who were just looking to lollygag. As it were, the General had gotten past the Gate, probably because he was on a mission and no one got in his way when he was on a mission.

Unless, of course, that someone had pink eyes, but Robin didn't savor those memories. She got along decently with Brick now, monopolizing her boyfriend and uncomfortable similarities aside. The past could stay in the past.

"Well hello, General!" she chirped brightly and tried not to grimace at the suspicious glare Brick immediately leveled at her. "How are you this fine morning?"

"Where is he, Robin?" he demanded with no preamble.

"Well, he was still in my room when I left this morning, so I'm not quite sure where he is now," she answered, which wasn't a complete lie. She had left before Mike had been functional, barely receiving a grunt when she kissed him goodbye. Her smile shone bright as she tilted her head. "But surely you can give him a break, Brick. He just got back from a mission, after all!"

His eyes narrowed.

Oh, she hadn't expected him to buy that, but she could definitely make herself a good distraction so her boyfriend could get away. Eyes wide, she pulled up a file.

"Nurse Snyder," Brick began in that low, angry voice he did so very well, but her gasp cut him off.

"Why, General!" she cried. "You haven't had a checkup in almost two years!"

Triumphant and malicious joy shot through her at his wide eyes and the twitch in his cheek. He cleared his throat.

"I…haven't had the time," he explained lamely. Robin lifted her eyebrows at him and he grimaced. "Really, Nurse Snyder. If you could kindly tell me where your boyfriend went—"

"Only if you have a checkup, General Jojo," she countered. She tapped a finger against her cheek. "After all, it was on your orders that all personnel be in tip. Top. Shape."

Doctor Baker poorly hid a snort.

Her smile was sickly sweet and frigid, a balance she had long since perfected after years of dealing with unruly soldiers and disrespectful superior officers. A balance of kindness and rigidity to show that she could be gentle when need be but she also meant business. Despite the world going to hell, people still looked down upon her youth and sex even with so many proving them wrong.

Brick's mouth twisted, his grimace turning into a scowl. His eyes flashed, the crimson glowing for a brief moment, before he pinched the bridge of his nose. His sigh would have actually blown her over if he had put more force into it.

"…very well. You have a point," he admitted after a long moment of silence. He gestured deeper into the infirmary. "Lead the way, nurse."

Robin beamed at him and turned on her heel. His footsteps followed her, lighter than Mike's despite both wearing those heavy boots and being nearly the same height. Brick was taller by just a bit and, well, she would check his weight in a bit, but all six of the superhumans had light steps. She wondered if that had to do with their flight abilities or how they used to float most of the time when they were younger.

She showed him to one of the examination rooms set off to the side, one of the few actual rooms that weren't just curtained off sections of the main medical bay. He only grumbled a little bit when she waved him in.

"Well, I'm sure you don't have time for a full examination," she remarked from the doorway, glancing over her shoulder. "But I can give you a few minutes to change into a—"

"You're right. I don't," Brick cut her off. He tossed his jacket onto the bed there and crossed his arms. "Just the basics then, nurse."

Pursing her lips at his sheer audacity, she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. This way they would get a semblance of privacy, even with these thin walls. After all, she had questions beyond a normal checkup and she was determined to get some answers. Who better to answer her than the General?

Blowing out her irritation, she set her tablet on the counter and flicked through his file for a moment. Her eyes darted over the familiar facts before she waved him over to the scale in the corner.

"Boots off," she called. "I'm not sure what those things are made of, but they mess with the scale."

A sigh sounded from behind her.

"Robin, I know this checkup is a farce," he said. "What do you want?"

Her fingers curled into a fist. She took a breath before she turned with her frozen smile.

"Why, General, I have no idea what you mean," she chirped. "After all, you are in need of a checkup!"

"Robin."

Brick was leaning against the examination table with his arms still crossed. His usual frown sat on his face, but the narrowed eyes spoke leagues. He wasn't buying what she was selling and wouldn't take anymore of her attempts.

Her fingers rapped irritably against her tablet. There were so many questions she honestly wanted to ask, so many strained smiles that she could conjure up like a lighter flame. She took a breath.

"Mojo's back," she finally muttered. Her eyes dropped to the floor between them. "What…happened?"

He blew out a tired sounding breath. "What did Mike tell you?"

Her teeth gritted.

As much as she loved Mike, and she did love him young or not, he had a horrible protective streak. That was the whole reason he had taken up the supersuit from the Professor, after all, because he wanted to help and to protect those he loved. It was an idiotic thing to do, of course. He wasn't bulletproof like Bubbles or the Boys, but he nevertheless threw himself into battle. All because he was protective beyond belief.

That meant if her not knowing something would theoretically protect her, he wasn't going to say a damn thing.

"Nothing," she grumbled. "He didn't say a damn thing."

"As he should since it's classified," Brick answered her curtly.

"Oh, give me a break," she hissed, lifting her angry eyes to him. His narrowed back. "Something must have happened for you to be looking for Mike when he should have a day off!"

Groaning, he pinched the bridge of his nose and her anger flared. Mike had been on a year-long mission. The very least—

"There are certain things that I wanted to…clarify about Lieutenant Believe's mission," Brick bit out. "I would rather have those loose ends ironed out sooner rather than later."

It wasn't the answer she wanted, but it bitterly made sense. She didn't have to like it, of course, especially when her boyfriend had to sneak around to avoid the General.

"You have a point," she muttered. Letting out her own groan, she rubbed her forehead. "Ugh. Okay. Okay. Then…does Mojo know about Blossom?"

Her eyes opened in time to see him tense. She couldn't tell if it was because she hit the nail on the head or the simple use of Blossom's name. She couldn't be the only one who noticed his lack of use of her name, the irritating Pinky ever present whenever he deemed her worthy enough to mention. Blossom hadn't said a word against it, of course, but Robin knew that she was trying to keep the boat balanced.

Blossom wasn't a fool. The Resistance didn't need a power struggle between the two of them, especially not if she took what Mike had told her to heart. If Brick was really planning something big, something that could maybe end the war, they could not afford something like that. Even then, it wasn't like Blossom had the influence she once had anymore. Robin knew that they had to be cautious, but it was Blossom. Petty as it was, it irritated her just how many soldiers stood behind Brick's ban.

Brick had that influence that Blossom had once wielded. The man who had so bitterly fought her once upon a time. The man who, as a child, Robin had punched because that was her friends he and his brothers were messing with. Even now, she still wrote with both hands in case she ever had to break her arm again to defend her friends' honor.

The fingers of her right hand flexed, each digit curling and fluttering. Fifteen years later and she could still remember the pressure of that striped cast.

Brick stood like stone, eyes glaring a hole into the wall. He didn't move for a long, long moment, so long that she feared he wasn't breathing. The deep breath he took alleviated that, especially when he squeezed his eyes shut. His knuckles shone white under the fluorescent lights, but they loosened with his next breath.

"As far as I am aware, no," he said. His fingers fluttered as he stretched them. "Seeing as he…has a little project, I doubt they'll even meet any time soon. Additionally, the Professor wouldn't allow that, either."

Again, Robin narrowed her eyes. "And…what if Blossom runs into Mojo when she visits the Professor?"

"As long as Mojo has his project, she isn't allowed near the lab on the Professor's request," he explained and she hated that he had predicted her question.

"And…just what is Mojo's project?" she asked.

"Classified."

A sour feeling swirled in her stomach and up her throat.

"Brick," she began and then stopped. Pressing him would do nothing, not when he was adamant like this. "Just…tell me if it has to do with Blossom? Please?"

Her voice wavered despite her glaring at him.

Blossom's tear-streaked face flashed through her mind, the raw guilt and pain so vivid that even Robin could feel it without an empathetic link. Then again, she and Blossom had always been close and eight years wouldn't tarnish that bond. Robin refused to let it, even if Blossom had begun to isolate herself after that horrible revelation.

If Mojo was doing something that could harm her, even if he didn't know, Robin would go down to that lab herself to pull the plug.

Brick only stared at her before he sighed.

"It doesn't."

Her fingers curled into a fist.

"It better not," she muttered. Her furious gaze fell. "I know you hate her. I know you don't want her here. But I swear if you're hiding something that could harm her—!"

"Nurse Snyder, are you threatening me?" Heat weighed down his gaze, the faintest flicker of sparks in his eyes. His arms hung akimbo, every inch that deceptively calm demeanor she had seen all of the superhumans adapt.

Robin should have felt fear.

"I wouldn't dream of that, General," she answered. "Besides, there is nothing I could do."

"One of the only people here who knows how to take care of our health," he remarked with a quirked eyebrow. "I believe there is much you can do, Nurse Snyder."

Her mouth twisted. Sometimes it didn't feel that way.

Huffing a breath, she lifted her tablet. "Well, checkup time, General!"

Brick blinked, his face going slack. "Wait. You're seriously going to give me a checkup?"

"Tiptop shape, Brick! Tiptop shape!" she sang.

She then pointed at the scale in the corner and lifted her eyebrows.

A nurse had to be able to hide her emotions, to remain calm and in control in the most dire of situations. As much as her stomach roiled, as much as all she wanted was to yell and scream, her expression remained schooled into a chipper smile.

Brick scowled, but began unlacing his boots all the same. She tried not to preen at her victory.

After all, this way Mike may find himself a few spare moments before she lost her little leverage over the General.

---

Mike never wished so much that he could wear his suit around the base casually. He usually carried it in his pack, where it would fly out and build itself over his body when he pressed a button on his wristwatch which served as a control. At the moment, it sat in the Professor's lab for a full diagnostic and repair as it had admittedly gotten damaged in the year-long trek around the US bases. Sure, Mojo had handled the fixes on the field well, as had the scientists in whatever branch they were at in the moment, but the supersuit was another of the Professor's babies so he always ran a full diagnostic on it whenever Mike returned from a mission. Seeing as Mojo had unceremoniously upgraded it with that freeze ray, Mike didn't blame the older man for wanting to make sure the former-supervillain hadn't added anything else without his knowing.

That didn't mean he wasn't missing it now, as he jogged down the hallway, trying not to bring too much attention to himself. The suit allowed him to fly, after all, and that had been something Mike had always dreamed of doing since he was a kid. Watching the Girls fly around had sparked an ever present desire in his small chest that hadn't died despite an invasion and a war. If anything, it had warped into a desire to protect all those he loved in the same way that they had once. To fly above and protect from on high would help so much more than just being another soldier on the field. (He wasn't ungrateful to said soldiers, of course, but Mike wanted—no, needed—to be more than just that.)

And that was why the Professor had given him the suit. So he could protect Bubbles and the Boys in his stead, even if all four of them denied needing such protection. Mike always had grinned at that, but the retort of "Look what had happened to Blossom" had sat bitterly on his tongue whenever they brought it up. As strong as they all were, they weren't immortal. They weren't nearly as invincible as they seemed. Mike may just be squishy human in a tin can, but he would do his damned best to protect them.

At the moment, he would much rather avoid them if he could. Brick was a hound with a scent and he so hoped that Robin wasn't getting herself in trouble while she distracted the General. Mike made a mental promise to shower her with love later. He certainly didn't deserve such an amazing woman, one who was so dedicated to those she loved. His heart tightened for her, even as he crept along the halls that led to the training room and the classrooms set aside for recruits.

Classroom was, admittedly, a generous term, since any room that wasn't the canteen, the lab, the library, the medical bay, or the training room was honestly just a storage room. Nothing like the greater Storage Department, but most held either supplies or military paraphernalia of some kind. The classrooms just so happened to have tables as well, which was really the only reason why they got that name.

Additionally, Brick would never guess that Mike would be hiding here of all places. Mike had done his allotted lessons and, while brushing up was never a bad thing, he had no reason really to be here. His whole unit was either in the medical bay or on bedrest, which admittedly he should be as well, but Brick was a stubborn man and Mike and Butch may have derailed a good chunk of that meeting last night. It wasn't his fault that no one had sent a transmission about Blossom of all people returning!

Pausing at a random door, he peered up and down the hall before typing in the code and walking into the room. The tables in front of him held maybe twenty people, most of which he hadn't seen in almost a year. His eyes darted across them, across the tall, lanky frames of the Floydjoydsen twins, over Harry's squatter and broader form, over Kim and Carlos and almost every other rebel. Finally, he found the person he had been hoping to see ever since reuniting with Buttercup the day before.

Mitch raised an eyebrow at him, head propped up and spinning a pencil between his fingers. His lips curled up as he snorted. Pencil spinning, he nodded towards the front of the classroom.

"Lieutenant Believe?"

Mechanically, Mike turned and met the confused face of Lieutenant Garcia, one of the younger commanding officers who wasn't him or Bubbles. She looked surprised to see him.

"Oh, good morning, Lieutenant Garcia," he greeted with the diplomatic smile he had long since perfected to handle disrespectful superior officers. "Don't mind me. I just heard that the rebels had decided to join us and I had to see for myself."

"Well, here we are," Mitch remarked and a familiar mischievous smirk curved up his face. "Though BC's already told me about your blubber-fest yesterday, Believe."

Mike's cheeks warmed, but he scoffed away the embarrassment.

"Like I was the only one who cried at seeing Blossom again," he countered. He was secure enough in who he was to admit he cried easily. Always did, probably always would.

He grinned at Mitch rolling his eyes.

Lieutenant Garcia cleared her throat.

"If you are done, lieutenant, I would like to continue my class," she said with her arms crossed.

A diagram of a standard military formation stood on the white board behind her. It was one of the basic ones that most units performed when out in the field. It secured all sides, keeping officers like communications and medical near the center while the outer ranks consisted of the more battle ready individuals.

Mike knew for a fact that none of the rebels would really heed that. Compared to the more overt missions of the Resistance, the rebels had been well versed in guerrilla fighting and hit and run tactics. With such a smaller fighting force, they couldn't do the maneuvers that the Resistance could. Their limited numbers hadn't stopped them, however, especially considering that one of their leaders had been the Toughest Fighter. The rebels had made themselves as much of a nuisance as the Resistance had.

Since they were here now, however, he supposed they needed to know those tactics. There was the stealth unit, but considering that Princess ran that, he wasn't surprised that none of the rebels were taking notes from her.

"Actually, may I borrow Mr. Mitchelson?" he asked and smiled brightly at Garcia. "I can give him the rundown of the tactics for you, but there are a few things I would like to talk to him about."

His fellow lieutenant narrowed her eyes at him. Her grip visibly tightened on her pointer, to the point he wondered if she was about to throw it at him. The amount of times Bubbles had done something similar when he interrupted her mid-briefing was innumerable. He had become very good at dodging superhumanly fast projectiles.

General Portman had joked about the Devil's luck upon witnessing one such dodge, but after the ashen face of Bubbles and Mike's own discomfort (or, well, rage), he had never used it again. Mike never blamed him.

Eventually, Garcia sighed and waved him away.

"Very well, Believe," she muttered. Her eyelids lowered and she crossed her arms, tapping her bicep. "Shouldn't you with the General?"

Mitch was on his feet before she had finished her question. He lifted his eyebrows with pursed lips, looking for all the world like he was about to get some juicy gossip. The rest of the rebels behind him leaned forward eagerly.

Mike chose to ignore that and her question. Instead, he plastered on the bright grin he had taken up when it had fallen from Bubbles' face.

"Thank you, Carla!" Mike chirped, all but shoving Mitch out the door. He let out a breath as the door shut behind them, running a hand through his short-cropped hair. "Man…"

He looked up then, at the young man who he hadn't seen in a good year. A half-grin curled up a corner of his mouth.

Mitch smirked back at him. "Sup, Believe. So about your blubbering…"

Rolling his eyes, Mike gestured for him to follow him. They fell into sync with only a little jogging from Mitch.

"Seriously, a man cries and people tease him mercilessly. I thought society collapsed eight years ago," he huffed.

Mitch snickered as he cupped the back of his neck. His elbow almost whacked Mike in the head.

"Always the gallows humor with you, huh? And people called me the dark one," he remarked. "…it is good seeing you though, Mike."

They shared a smile then, a smile of shared pain and shared loss. Of shared memories and shared burdens.

The burden of the best friends of the Powerpuff Girls. …or…the women who used to be the Powerpuff Girls…

"It's good seeing you, too, Mitch," he said in a softer voice than Mitch apparently liked.

The other man's cheeks reddened and he groaned, sticking his nose into the air. He scowled as if that would hide his blush.

"A whole fucking year and then some for…what exactly?" He narrowed his eyes at him, but Mike just put a finger to his lips. "Ugh! Seriously? You're gonna pull the confidential crap on me?"

"Sorry, man. General's orders." Mike shrugged.

"Man, fuck Brick…" Mitch grumbled. "A God damned year…"

"Tell me about it. I haven't seen my sweet Robin in a year," Mike sniffed, brushing a pretend tear away. Mitch shoved his shoulder.

"Oh, fuck off!"

Mike gasped. "Oh, yeah! Did you get shorter?"

Mitch's arms dropped and his scowl practically dripped venom. In that moment, his whole body language shifted from relaxed to tense. He stopped dead center of the hallway, but at least they were mostly alone.

Mike stopped just shy of his reach.

Mitch's scowl darkened when he realized. "I'll punch you in your kidneys, I swear."

Mike laughed and resumed walking.

"It is good seeing you, Mitch," he said when his friend grudgingly rejoined his side. "Really."

Mitch huffed. "No blubbering for me? I'm insulted."

Even if Mike had accepted it, Mitch's constant ribbing of his emotional responses would always bring heat to his cheeks. There was just something about his tone of voice that both irritated and embarrassed the young lieutenant.

It was his turn to scowl.

"Oh, shut up," he grumbled before lifting up his nose in that haughty way Princess was so good at. "I used up all my tears, anyway."

Their footsteps echoed for a moment, the only sound between them as they walked. Mitch blew out an amused breath that sounded sad all the same.

"Saving 'em up for Bloss, huh?" he murmured.

Mike, peering down one of the halls, paused. "…I think everyone is."

"Was. She's back." Mitch's voice was soft, but firm.

Mike's heart twisted at that resolute tone. Butch's voice whispered in his mind, the bored tone telling him of the three weeks in which Blossom had stayed with the rebels. He hadn't elaborated more than that, but the look in his eyes had told him more than his voice did. The rebels were just as protective of Blossom as Butch was and that was saying something. The Baron of Berserk of all people being protective of Blossom.

His throat felt dry.

They continued walking, but their conversation ebbed as more personnel began to appear. The buzz in his muscles didn't ease, though, that need to grab Mitch and demand the answers that Butch and Brick hadn't given him. From the sour expression on Brick's face last night and the brief thunderous look this morning, he doubted he would be getting anything from the General for a while.

"I know," he muttered, nodding towards a pair of soldiers going the opposite way.

Mitch twitched his head down a more deserted hallway. Mike followed with no complaints because that look on Mitch's face spelled serious to an nth degree. It was an expression that Mike knew not to ignore.

"So your thoughts on General Asshole's ban?" his friend asked.

Mike stared down the monotonous hall, at the white tiles and brilliant blue lights he had long since memorized. Even though each hall looked the same, he knew where this one led, knew that if he took a right at the first intersection and continued on he would end up in the heart of the Resistance where Brick's office sat.

His fingers drummed against his thigh. He sighed.

"Being honest…" he began and Mitch groaned loudly.

"Really? You're gonna play devil's advocate?" he snapped.

Mike frowned at his friend's glare. "Brick has a point about caution. I don't like it, Mitch, because it's Blossom. My girlfriend's best friend. But I do understand where Brick is coming from."

"Unbelievable!" Mitch threw his hands into the air. "Look, I do get it. The caution and protecting everyone, but…"

He trailed off into curses that would have made a seasoned officer blush. Mike had heard them too many times from a deeper voice to really be bothered anymore.

He rubbed his neck and glanced away from his friend.

Lowly, he said, "Butch mentioned you…the Rebels kept Blossom a secret for three weeks."

Mitch groaned. "Buttercup...was being a bit of a brat, honestly. She didn't want to share Blossom just yet and, well, a week turned into two, turned into three."

Mike pursed his lips.

That did make sense. Buttercup had become awfully hostile towards the Resistance over the years, a combination of antagonism from Princess and Brick and that grudge she held for Bubbles and Mojo. Well, he supposed it wasn't truly a grudge with Bubbles, but the coldness between them apparently still hadn't disappeared despite the Rebels now living with the Resistance. If hiding Blossom stuck it to the Resistance, Buttercup wasn't going to say a damn thing.

Even if Blossom could be an asset. Buttercup would have utilized her older sister somehow, he was sure.

In comparison, the Resistance had put a collar made of bureaucracy around her neck and called it protecting its people. As much as Mike knew of the rivalry between Brick and Blossom, he really doubted it was the General alone that had passed the ban. It wasn't like Blossom had a reputation of attacking people or being a nuisance like…other members of the Resistance. Why not give her that benefit of a doubt? Even though they had to be cautious, because they didn't know and from what Butch had grumbled Blossom suffered from amnesia so she also didn't know, she still could give them an upper hand. Blossom had ice powers, after all, and if the aliens were weak to the cold, why not utilize that?

Thunderous red eyes flashed through his mind, a scowl that could curdle milk directed towards him. Mike grimaced and only just suppressed the shiver that threatened to shake him.

No, even if she wasn't under a ban, he doubted Brick would utilize her powers. He was stubborn, after all, and there was definitely no love lost between the two redheads. All the same, he had been awfully...odd yesterday, if he considered the reactions of everyone in the library.

Mike figured, however, there was no use looking into it unless he wanted to get his eyebrows flambéed.

"I guess I can't blame her, honestly," Mike remarked.

"Well, not like any of us really...stopped her," Mitch muttered. "I think we all knew how Brick would react so... I guess we were just trying to hold off the inevitable, especially with what happened to Emmons..."

"Emmons?" Mike echoed, tilting his head in confusion. "Jacob Emmons? From Boomer's unit? What does he have to do with anything?"

Mitch twisted and gave him a confused look. He squinted his eyes, mouth agape and hands lifted as if to present something. They bobbed as he searched for words.

"How...? You don't know?" he asked.

"Know what?" A shiver of dread crept down Mike's spine. "Butch...ah, I guess I did too, but Butch basically played interference last night during my debriefing with Brick."

His friend's mouth snapped shut. He continued to stare for a long moment before he whipped forward and scowled down the hallway. Eyes squeezing shut, his fingers twitched when he covered his mouth.

Mike shifted uneasily. He hadn't really understood why Butch had played so much interference last night nor did he understand the hostility between the brothers. He hadn't gotten the full story behind that either, other than Butch was giving Blossom the benefit of a doubt and Brick was being, well, Brick.

Mitch grumbled something rather unflattering about both brothers before blowing out a loud sigh. He rubbed his forehead and looked at him with dark eyes.

"Emmons...is dead," he finally said. "From...what Buttercup told me, an alien forced him to drink its blood and it...I have no idea, honestly, but he changed. Apparently the aliens use their blood as a drug to control people."

Mike froze. He could only stare at his friend, waiting for him to laugh in his face at what a sick joke that was. Because it had to be a joke, a horrible, grim joke that didn't really fit the gallows humor that they had all started using over the years.

Mitch returned his gaze with hollow eyes and a sallow expression. His mouth twisted with both disgust and fear.

"Their...blood can control people?" Mike managed to ask.

His mind began to race.

Mitch averted his gaze.

"Apparently," he hissed. His fists clenched and trembled. "Those fuckers... Never fucking play fair, huh?"

"At...At least it's just the blood, right?" Mike murmured, but he could only think of Blossom's sorrowful face lifted towards him. Had she...? "I...I've never heard of an alien with...mind control powers..."

"Me neither," Mitch agreed. "...nasty assholes even used their blood to make drugs."

Mike's stomach flopped.

"D…Drugs?"

"That's what Buttercup said," Mitch mumbled. He ran his fingers through his hair and tugged with a grimace. "So…so this is why that ban is bullshit, Believe. Bloss…there is no way that Bloss wasn't…"

Those fingers trembled. That face contorted with rage and a kind of grief that turned Mike's insides in ice and fire simultaneously.

They didn't say anything more, but they didn't need to.

Mike hoped those diagnostics were finished soon.

---

At a time somewhere between three and four in the morning, the lab stood quiet of all human—or chimp—activity. Only the faint hum and whir of machines echoed through the darkness, a rare feat that had only happened when the whirlwind force of Brigadier Bellum and Ms. Keane forced the Professor and Mojo to sleep. Despite Mojo's complaints about only having two days, neither woman would hear of it, even if Ms. Keane knew not about what he screeched.

All other researchers and scientists had followed suit because no one dared reckon with either of those women. After all, they were two of maybe three people now who could get the General and his brothers to listen and any who wielded such power were not to be trifled with. Thus, the researchers scurried to meals and rest, leaving the lab equipment to run their tests and diagnostics.

A shadow crept across the silent lab, unhindered by the darkness or the humming equipment. It looked not around, focused on its silent path, to the far side of the lab. A hand ghosted over a panel, a faint beep alerting the hiss of the door.

Steam rolled across booted feet.

Another ghostly touch to another panel led to another faint beep. The shadow exited. It tapped again on the panel and then it left, quiet as it came.

No glance, no wandering gaze

No sound

A number flashed up.

---

Blossom was sure something had happened the day that Mike returned to the base. As excited as she was for her best friend to have her boyfriend back, Boomer had become awfully quiet after that day and twitchier than usual. He wasn't a particularly jumpy person as far as she has seen. He shouldn't be if she remembered his invisibility and the fact he was a sergeant, but he couldn't sit still in a way that reminded her more of his elder brother.

Arms crossing and uncrossing, hands folding and unfolding, tapping his arms and his legs, and never once making eye contact with her had filled their interactions for the past two days. Anytime she asked, he deflected the question and started talking about her book or a random subject that he seemed to pull from nowhere. She didn't know why he was nervous, however, as he hadn't really changed after they had told him about...

About Seattle...

Her chest constricted and she stared down at her book so hard the words began to swim. Her breaths chilled her mouth. Her hands shook so she put the book down and folded them against her chest as she leaned forward, still trying to feign that she was in control. She couldn't lose control in the library, where she could hear the voices of Ms. Keane and her class if she focused. She couldn't lose control in front of her guards, either, as this was a rare day where Hanout had off.

He had fought her venomously the day previous, but he needed to take care of himself. Even after all these years, he was a dear friend and she would fight tooth and nail to make sure his health did not decline. Especially not because of her. If she could make sure one person stayed healthy, she would do so, even at the risk of her comfort.

Blossom breathed out a breath, letting her eyes flicker up to Boomer, but his expression remained fixed on his own book. Good. He didn't need to deal with her attacks any more than he already did. Her next breath felt warm. Her fingers slowly uncurled and she returned to her own reading.

She barely got a page further when a pair of voices startled her. One she immediately recognized as the Professor, but the low feminine voice gave her pause for only a moment. She knew that voice, that low, authoritative voice. That voice that was firm yet gentle, in a different way than Ms. Keane's firm yet gentle. A voice that she tried to emulate when she had to take control of room and keep it calm.

Blossom turned towards the stairs, hidden by bookcases, and listened.

"You're working yourself to the bone, John," the woman said and Blossom's heart thudded.

The Professor laughed weakly, a laugh he used when he didn't want someone to worry that he hadn't been sleeping. "With Mojo's experiment now, I don't have the luxury to stop. Not if I want to get everything done in time for December."

She scoffed. "Between you and Brick himself, I'm amazed Nurse Snyder hasn't prescribed sleeping pills for the both of you. Oh, yes, I am aware that he isn't sleeping either. I plan on talking to him once we've finished catching up. I swear that boy is avoiding me."

"Because you're the closest thing to a mother those boys have, Sara," the Professor remarked with a laugh.

An aggravated sigh followed him around the corner of the bookshelf. He beamed at Blossom, but her stomach twisted at the dark shadows under his eyes and the gray sheen to his skin. He definitely wasn't sleeping as much as he should.

A tall woman stepped up next to him, clad in an army green uniform instead of the typical shades of red she wore when Blossom was a child. She had cut her hair short, a graying cloud of auburn around her perpetually youthful face, and brown eyes stared at her in shock. Her mouth dropped.

Blossom's heart thudded.

"Brigadier Bellum!" Boomer exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

Sara Bellum's eyes darted from Blossom to Boomer, her demeanor still surprised but softening tremendously. For a moment, she hesitated before she breathed a soft breath. An amused smile overtook her face when she fully turned to him.

"Boomer, I'm off duty. You can call me 'mom'," she remarked and Blossom's eyebrows skyrocketed.

She must have sent her shocked "what" too fast to the Professor's mind as he rubbed his forehead with a wince. A flash of regret passed her mind, but she was too confused about the connection between Ms. Bellum—or, rather, Brigadier Bellum—and Boomer. Despite his grimace, he smiled and nodded.

"Well, I'm on duty, mom," Boomer countered, but a soft smile graced his face, one unlike the soft smile he had given Bubbles in their living room.

Being honest, it was a smile Blossom hadn't expected him to be able to make. It was a familial softness that she knew he hadn't been able to experience like she and her sisters had. Another pang of regret stabbed her chest.

"A sense of decorum is always appreciated," Ms. Bellum remarked, but she pinched his cheek all the same, even as he wrinkled his nose. "Just don't become like your brother. I appreciate his professionalism, but there is such a thing as too much."

"…he has a lot on his plate," Boomer murmured.

Ms. Bellum's smile seemed rueful. "I know. All the same…"

Her voice trailed. Boomer's mouth twitched before he cleared his throat.

"Sooo I'm sure you're…surprised," he began.

The brigadier's hand curled into a fist. Her shoulders tensed before she blew out a breath and turned.

"Blossom," she managed to say in a firm voice before her face crumpled. "Oh, Blossom, where—where have you been?"

Unlike Ms. Keane, she did not faint. Unlike the Professor, no tears fell down her face, but her eyes shown and her lips trembled something horrible. She did not take a step forward, even as her body rocked.

Boomer's own face twisted and he slipped his hand into her trembling fist.

"Ms. Bellum…I…" Blossom began and swallowed the lump in her throat. "I…I'm so sorry. I…"

Her voice faded as the memories scratched at her. As she remembered golden halls and blank eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head to clear them because she refused, refused, when the strongest woman she had ever met was fighting to keep herself together. Blossom had emulated her too much to not match her now.

Boomer dipped his head to his mother's ear, whispering her story for her. Horror dawned on Ms. Bellum's face and the unshed tears fell. Her eyes shut, her hand pressed to her mouth until the very end of Boomer's whispering. Those fingers shook.

The Professor placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Those…bastards," she hissed and then took a step forward. She paused, however, and her face scrunched with indecision. "I want to hug you, Blossom. Would that be all right?"

Blossom didn't realize she was shaking until then. Swallowing, she nodded because her throat had tightened at the clawing memories and the presence of her family. Because Ms. Bellum had been family, the closest thing to an aunt they had had when they were younger. Uncle Eugene hadn't been interested in marriage, after all, so she and her sisters hadn't really gotten a taste of a true aunt besides for Ms. Bellum. Ms. Keane had always been more of a mother figure, after all.

Ms. Bellum crossed the short space without a word and encircled her in her arms. Even though she seemed shorter than she had been, she still stood almost a head taller than Blossom and the young woman sank into her embrace with a shuddery breath. She hesitated a moment before she returned the hug and pressed her forehead to her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she murmured again. "I'm sorry I disappeared…"

A gentle and familiar hand stroked her hair. A raw ache swirled in her chest and it took everything in her to not cry.

"You didn't have a choice," Ms. Bellum answered. "Oh, sweetie." She pulled away and squeezed her shoulders. Her tears had ebbed, her mouth twisted into a grimace. "…I'm sorry for what Brick is doing, Blossom. It is…excessive."

"But it makes sense," Blossom continued for her when she paused. "With my amnesia… It is better to be safe rather than sorry, even if he has been a tad…overbearing."

Boomer snorted, which he quickly attempted to hide with a cough. The Professor sighed heavily, but Blossom didn't miss the dark thoughts from her two guards. They did not agree with her assessment. To them, she should be locked somewhere small and dark.

Ms. Bellum stroked her hair again. A watery sigh left her lips, but her smile was warm.

"Well, you're here now," she murmured. "My door will always be open for you, Blossom. No matter what."

Even if those dark thoughts painted something red in the back of her mind, Blossom couldn't help smiling back at her.

---

Two days. Two days had past.

The Professor couldn't breathe easily just yet, however. Not when that horrible, monstrous thing still breathed in the cryo-unit. Mojo had wrangled three more hours from Brick, a feat that could only be had because Brick had a interbase conference call that he could not miss. His eyes had burned down at his creator and Mojo had scurried away to finish his experimenting.

Brick had looked as tired as the Professor felt. That had been two hours ago.

Professor Utonium rubbed his face, but despite the bitter taste in his mouth, he would grudgingly admit that Mojo's gamble was paying off. They had learned a lot about the alien physiology in the past two days: their elasticity, their strength, and, mostly importantly, their vile blood. Just like the corrupted sample from Emmons, the fresh alien blood attacked and mutated the human blood sample with record speed.

Cold had predictably slowed that mutation, but it hadn't been able to reverse it. The Professor hadn't expected a miracle like that, however, but it was something he couldn't believe they had overlooked. They had spent so much time focused on matching the superhumans strengths to the aliens, to building guns and weapons that a normal human could use to fight, that something as simple as environment had gone over their heads.

They would rectify that now, but the Professor could still remember the tremble in Brick's fists when he told him. His chest tightened and a ball lodged itself in his throat. His fingers shook, shook so much that he had to stop typing and clench them tightly.

His baby, his daughter, had been taken because of her power. There was no other reason. Buttercup hadn't been targeted. Bubbles hadn't been targeted. Brick and his brothers hadn't been targeted. Blossom, however, who had the power of ice, had. Blossom who had taken so easily to her ice breath, to her slowly growing cryokinesis. Blossom who would make winter wonderlands on hot summer days so the people of Townsville could get a moment of relief.

Had she been the only one? He was sure that there had to have been another superhuman with ice powers. He was sure he remembered seeing that at one of the Supermen Summits, or whatever they had changed their name to after his daughters had saved their lives. Once Mojo's experiment was done, he would ask Brick to get in contact with Major Glory for him. They needed to know.

Blossom hadn't been the only one taken…had she?

Technically, she hadn't, the long list of missing persons flashing through the Professor's mind and onto his screen when his fingers moved without his thinking. How many of those people had actually let themselves be taken, however, he didn't know, but each name was someone whom they hadn't been able to find in all these years. How many lived and how many died…they didn't know.

The Professor wasn't so sure he wanted to know.

Leaning away from his computer, he rubbed his face. Around him, scientists worked and conversed, intent on finishing their own research before the General arrived to dispose of their specimen. Even if he had given them three extra hours, Brick hadn't look pleased and neither had his brother, who scowled throughout Mojo's plea. Brick had had to physically pull Butch out of the lab afterwards, fury bringing arcs of green energy up and down his arms.

Hands running down his face, Professor Utonium glanced at the clock on his screen. An hour. They had an hour more to go before Brick, or more likely Butch, arrived. He took a breath. There wasn't much else he wanted to research, honestly, but if he could help one of the other scientists, he wouldn't have to sit there and worry.

As he stood, the door to the lab hissed open. Slow, heavy footfalls echoed among the chattering.

Something made the Professor look up as a soldier cut through the crowds of scientists. He didn't even acknowledge when Elmer greeted him, focused on his goal.

A cold dread slimed down Professor Utonium's spine when he followed the soldier's path. His feet were moving before his mind caught up with him. He hurried between desks and people, skidding to a stop in front of the soldier, whose name he couldn't remember with panic beginning to spike through his blood.

Dazed eyes met his just before an unflinching hand shoved him out of the way. The Professor stumbled into a desk, scattering papers and pens as he tried to regain his balance.

"Phil!" Elmer cried as he hurried to his side. "Professor, are you okay?"

"S…Stop…" the Professor gasped, watching this Phil march towards the temperature controlled room. "Stop him!"

A gun cocked.

Scientists froze.

Phil surveyed them, gun raised, and continued his mission. Because that was only what it could be with his dazed persistence.

"P-Phil?" Elmer called, but the soldier only punched in the code to the number pad. "Phil!"

Steam flooded from the door.

Phil disappeared inside.

No scientist moved when the low screech of frozen metal echoed from inside of that room. Elmer's grip tightened on the Professor's arm, but the older man couldn't feel anything as a long black hand grabbed the edge of the door.

Phil walked out supporting a tall creature straight from their nightmares. Frost still coated the shoulders of the creature and the gold of its arm bracers, but it flexed its fingers and arms. Head bobbing side to side, it blinked its eyes at the frozen scientists.

A hellish smile ripped across its face.

"Hello, vermin."