When Bree finally woke up, it took her a minute to remember. For one blissful moment, she wasn't the most humiliated girl in school, she wasn't fresh out of a relationship. For one blissful moment as she gathered her senses, her heart didn't hurt. But then she woke up and she remembered everything: Owen, that cheerleader, God why had she been so stupid? Should she have seen it coming? She had no idea.

She wanted to lean against the glass wall, she wanted to shrivel up and die and forget anything ever happened; she was far too tired to go to school anyway.

But then her whole body jolted. Her eyes flew open to tapping on the glass of her capsule. Chase.

"Chase?" Bree stepped out into the lab and yawned, "What the Hell?" She looked around, "Where's Adam and Mr Davenport?"

"Gone," he folded his arms and Bree blinked back her shock before he elaborated, "Adam and Leo have gone to school, Tasha's at work and Mr Davenport's got back to back meetings all day. We've got the house to ourselves."

"What?" Bree screwed up her face and walked past her brother, tapping the screen of the control panel to choose an outfit for that day. If Adam and Leo had already gone to school it was definitely late. "What time is it? Do I have time to do my make-up for the school from Hell or should I just face it as ugly as everyone sees me?"

"Bree," Chase's sharp tone made her look up and before she could think, he tossed her a phone. She caught it, thankfully, and made to reprimand him on his carelessness, but he carried on. "You," he pointed at her, "Are going to call school and use that amazing vocal manipulation of yours to call us both in sick, then we are going to spend the entire day on the couch eating ice-cream and watching exclusively crappy romantic comedies."

Bree just stared; this wasn't like Chase. Not that she was complaining of course, she loved sappy, or as he and Adam called them, crappy, rom-coms. But then she processed what he was saying.

"What time is it?"

"Like ten," he shrugged and began moving around the lab, collecting an oversized hoodie that was lying discarded on the back of a chair and tossing it her way, "I let you sleep in."

"What about everyone else?" She gasped as she thought of a theory, "Did you, Chase Davenport, Mr Goodie-two-shoes himself actually fake sick?"

Chase looked horrified at the very idea, "No," he defended, "Well, a little. Kind of. I told Adam that we both had this bionic sickness that super strength was immune to – I know, but he bought it. Tasha left early so she doesn't know, Leo hasn't actually noticed," he took a breath, "Mr Davenport doesn't know, as far as he's aware, we're both at school. I told him I was letting you sleep an extra few minutes because you got back late, but he left at like half seven anyway."

"Chase!" Bree hissed, suddenly slapped with betrayal for the second time in two days, "You said you wouldn't tell him! You better run you piece of –"

"Woah, woah," he held up his hands, "Easy there, roadrunner. I said you got back at like ten, he's fine. He wouldn't have let me stay off school to take care of you if I told him I was, so I just didn't say anything." Chase didn't let her react, he just walked out of the lab, "Meet me upstairs. What do you want for breakfast?"

Bree just smiled at him, "You're really going to take care of me?"

"If you successfully call us both in sick, yes," he nodded, "I'm not having an unexplained absence on my attendance record, my reputation would –"

"Okay, okay," Bree laughed as she began dialling, then she looked up at her brother and smiled wider, "Waffles please."

Chase watched Bree as she passive-aggressively stabbed her waffle. He had a theory, of course he did, about how she was going to deal with this and how she should deal with this; this theory was extremely evidence based, purely from her past experiences where she was upset or when she glitched. She hadn't glitched yet, but of course bionic glitching wasn't the only thing at stake here; she had just had her confidence knocked and her trust betrayed. Chase had to help her grieve.

He made a mental note to brief the rest of his family on his theory and his plan, but his current mission was to make Bree angry at Owen. If she stopped feeling so sorry for herself and started seeing that he was the villain of the situation, then they could move on to the crying. But she had to get angry first. For the theory.

So Chase watched his sister as she frowned down at her waffle, continuing to stab it in her unshed anger. He couldn't bring up the fact that Owen was a dick, or not good enough for Bree or anything terrible for two reasons. Firstly, it might backfire, she would direct her anger at Chase and then he would be in the wrong for insulting Owen, and secondly, it might be misinterpreted by Bree as unsupported, over-protective brothering and she would just ignore him. No, it had to come from her. So, he continued to watch as she got angrier.

But although he waited, Bree just finished her breakfast, collapsed into the couch and watched the stupid, girly movie he was forcing himself through for Bree's sake. She sighed pathetically and Chase glanced at her; more unshed tears began to spring up in her eyes. She couldn't cry before she got angry, she'd wallow without letting her real emotions out. Maybe he could manipulate this a little bit. So he got out his phone.

"Wow," he scoffed, "Have you seen Instagram?"

"What? No. Why?" She looked at him.

"Oh," he shook his head, "Nothing. Just a lot of pics of the party. That bitchy cheerleader Owen hooked up with posted pictures of him." He gently pushed the phone in her direction, silently wishing he had an app to transfer Spike to Bree.

Bree just looked at the phone, Chase waited and all of a sudden, her knuckles began to whiten. She looked like she was about to cry, but if they were angry tears, then that was fine. He just wanted her to get mad at Owen.

Bree threw the phone across the room and it smashed into a cupboard in the kitchen. Chase caught his breath, blinked and nodded as Bree stood up and began pacing.

"Okay," he stared after his phone, "My fault for handing it to you." But he ignored the phone; he'd fix it later. It would be a nice project for him.

"Chase," Bree began and Chase paused the movie. Now they were getting started. "Chase, is it bad if I superspeed to school to punch Owen in the nuts?"

Chase stood up, "I understand your anger," he nodded, "But I feel like there's a…safer way to release it."

"What are you talking about?" She demanded, "Hurry up because I'm about to start running and I haven't brushed my hair today." Chase opened his mouth to speak, "I'm serious, Chase," Bree took him by the shoulders, "Do not let me walk out that door!"

"Okay, okay," Chase raised his hands to gently pry her off of him. "I have an idea, just trust me, but give me, like, two minutes. Okay?"

Bree nodded, so Chase ran off to get what he needed. He came back exactly one minute and fifty-seven seconds later with a blank canvas and an easel. He set it up and looked at his sister, who was breathing herself through something which could have been a panic attack, but could just as easily been a silent screaming fit.

"Remember when we broke that painting of Mr Davenport's and I transferred an image onto the canvass?" She nodded, so he let his bionics do their thing and he searched through the virtual screen ahead of him for a picture of Owen on social media. Eventually he stumbled on a jackpot and started projecting his stupid face onto the canvass. Owen looked happy, which, depending on how you looked at things, was either better or worse for the situation.

Bree just stared at it, frowning, almost crying, horrified. "Two more seconds," he insisted, and ran over to the kitchen counter. He produced a large, sharp, kitchen knife. He handed it to Bree, nodded at the painting and stepped back. "Go on," he said, "Destroy –" She tore it to shreds before Chase could finish, "It."

He stared at her, she was standing, knife in hand, staring at where Owen's face used to be. Even the easel had been destroyed. She had practically chopped it to sawdust. Bree was breathless, she looked tired, like she had got all her anger out in one go, which Chase hadn't actually expected, but he believed it from her expression.

"You okay?" He spoke eventually, taking a step forward to take the knife gently out of her hand. But no sooner had he placed it on the counter, Bree broke down crying and dropped to the floor. He sighed, rushing down to be beside her as he pulled her in for a hug and felt her tears wet his shoulder. "I know," he said gently, "I know, you're going to be okay."

"Oh God," Bree choked her words out through her sobs, "Chase, I feel so stupid."

"Don't feel stupid," he told her, "That's Adam's job." Bree huffed a laugh. "It's okay," he said, "It's okay, cry it out." Crying, now that she fully understood Owen as the bad guy, was good, because it meant Chase could be as awful about Owen as he liked. "Listen to me Bree," he began, "Owen is a stupid, worthless little worm who didn't deserve you. You are way out of his league and honestly cheating on you and dumping you was the worst mistake he has ever made."

"In front of the whole school!" She cried, "Chase, I think we should transfer somewhere new." Chase tried to speak, but was cut off, "Seriously, if we leave now, we'll be gone before anyone gets home. We'll move and leave this utter humiliation behind."

"We don't need to do that," Chase told her, "It'll all blow over."

"You don't know that."

"I know everything," Chase sighed, "Smartest man in the world, remember?" But at the mention of his bionics, Bree just looked at him, a sad, but otherwise neutral expression on her face. She sighed and looked down, so Chase touched her shoulder. "What?"

"Well," she began, "We fight actual crime and disasters all the time, we're practically superheroes, I've fought my way out of so many situations, but," she sobbed, "But now I'm crying over a boy."

"It's okay to cry," Chase rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, "Bionics make us superhuman, but we're still human. Anyone can get hurt, loads of people get hurt by scumbags like Owen. But please don't beat yourself up about this, it's not your fault." At this, Bree nodded.

"It's Owen's fault," she muttered.

"Yes," Chase nodded and began to help Bree to her feet. "Yes, it is. And that horrible, slutty cheerleader who hooked up with him at that party's fault too."

"Oh God," Bree sighed again as Chase led her over to the couch, "That party." She looked at him as they both crashed on the cushions, "Do you think if I'd never made him go in the first place then it wouldn't have happened?" she started crying again, "Chase you were wrong, it is my fault."

"Bree," Chase shook his head, "No it isn't! If it didn't happen at the party, it would have happened further down the line when you trusted Owen more. You would have been hurt more, so be glad it happened now. Be glad that you're rid of him."

Bree just gave up. She still cried, but instead of arguing, she just leant into Chase. He hugged her for a moment, but he sensed that she was going to ask him something else.

"Chasey," she began, extra pathetically, "Will you get me ice-cream?"

"Yes," he sighed and got up from the couch; he walked over to the freezer, "Cookie dough or chocolate brownie?"