Alright, so we are now at the Whites, mostly Blare. This one-shot is a little different than the other three because it doesn't one set time in the main character's life, instead stretching from his childhood all the way to his thirties. I had difficulty deciding if I would focus on Blare or Bell for the first one shot, but ultimately decided to go with Blare first. Bell's one shot will probably have multiple parts because it will focus on her having to deal with the repercussions of Professor X's actions and the role she had to play in them. I actually think, in ppgd, that there may be hope for Bell turning... Well, good. But that's for another time. Here, we'll focus on Blare dealing with his own guilt and finally getting his own happy ending.
Didn't Want To
Blare was born in a land of chill and clouds. The air was often cool, the winters were usually harsh. The lab he was born in was full of people, but all saw him as a weapon.
Which, by all accounts, he was.
Blare knew he was simply the result of a recreated experiment. An answer to the emergence of superpowered children in the United States. He was the most successful to date, fully functional and cognitive. The attempts before, his predecessors, had all died before they reached two years. They were unstable, practically unusable.
He was almost six now and had proven to be the most successful result, though the two born with him had died in their beds.
Now, he was trained to be a weapon, another way to protect his country... and suppress its people. He rarely left the cold, metallic lab, only leaving to carry out missions.
Blare had ended many lives.
Blare had ended and begun many wars.
He sat in his room, a simple and bleak place with a hospital-like bed and a nailed down, Plexiglas window. His platinum blonde, almost white, hair sat tied in a short ponytail while his bangs reached to his chin. His uniform was on and his listless eyes scanned over the mission directive.
A usual mission... they believed a number of rebels were basing themselves in an orphanage on the outskirts of a small town about thirty miles from the nearest metropolis. His orders were to eradicate the entire orphanage.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
"*Project X5687. You're needed in the deployment sector to proceed to your mission location.*" A cold, monotone voice said. The man in front of him, by all accounts, was his "father". But he acted like Blare was simply a tool.
Which, Blare supposed, he was. He stood up and nodded, "*...Understood...*" The man turned away when Blare spoke again, "*Sir... this orphanage...it will be full of children and noncombatants. What is the excursion plan for them?*"
"*There is none. You are to eradicate the entire orphanage. Their deaths will be blamed on the rebel uprisings, which will put a stint on their success. Am I understood?*" Blare stayed quiet before nodded.
"*Yes, Sir... I understand...*" The man left and Blare finally dropped his stoic gaze, grey eyes growing with tears as he realized what he was ordered to do. "*...But I don't want to...*"
He sat now in a cell, blinding white and handcuffed with power canceling restraints. He was seven now and his project had spun out of control. His countrymen had, had enough of their government and their wicked ways.
The uprising had won, with the help of a covert fraction of the American government that dealt with... superpowered individuals. In all honesty, Blare had not been a major part of this fight.
He was a national asset, meant to keep the people in check.
He was a ghost, a phantom, an assassin. He rarely fought on front lines.
So, he didn't have much to count against him in this instance.
However, his record showed that he had over three hundred confirmed kills, many of which were innocents.
His life was now a big question mark.
He sat on the ground, wondering what would happen. He was scared, as Blare was just a child. He was angry, though, too.
He hated this life. He hated that he was never given a choice. He hated that he was never given a chance to do good.
He hated this...
"*It's a weapon of mass destruction and cruelty, used against the people to stunt our freedom and rights!*" A woman outside the door snarled. He flinched.
"*We should destroy it before it turns on us!*" A man responded. Blare's eyes widened and tears filled up. He was going to die.
I don't want to.
"*He is a child! Not a weapon! You cannot blame him for the actions of adults! How is a child to tell an adult that he will not do something when this is all he has known?*" Another man said, shocked. Blare whimpered. He didn't want to die.
I don't want to.
"*It is no child! A child is born between a man and a woman, not household ingredients and chemicals. It will probably die soon anyway, so let's end it's misery and do it now!*" Blare was now openly crying.
I don't want to die.
"*How can you say that? How can you look in his eyes and not see a chi-child? A scared child? Children act on how they are raised and he was raised a cold Hell by a monster! You cannot blame him for being born in such an uncommon way! Are you really so heartless as to damn this mere child for living a life that would break an adult?*" A woman cried out. Blare's was crying harder now. He didn't want to die.
He didn't want to kill those people.
He didn't mean to hurt people.
He didn't want to die.
"*If I may... My name is Dr. I. M. Weasel, one of the head researchers for Project Rowdyruff. I believe I have a solution to your... dilemma.*"
Blare stood awkwardly in front of the three other boys. Supposedly, they had been there when the rebels overthrew his country's government. They hadn't crossed paths, but Blare didn't question it or care.
The last few months had been Hell as his government and the American government fought over what to do with Blare. He had been interrogated, psychologically stripped of his own privacy, and basically beaten down spiritually. He'd endured harsh treatment and horrified looks from almost everyone, save Dr. Weasel.
Dr. Weasel was the first scientist in his life to give Blare any comfort. He saw, not a weapon, but a young boy. A boy who should never have gone through what he did. A boy who was not a villain, but a victim in this. Blare had drawn the shortest stick as he was created to be nothing more than a weapon, a living gun. And Blare, for all his powers and strengths, had been powerless to change it.
Thankfully, though, he knew of three other boys who had been in the same situation, once upon a time. And once Blare was officially handed over to the American government for "retraining and rehabilitation", Dr. Weasel arranged for Blare to meet his new team.
"Boys, this is Blare, the one I told you about. Blare, these are the Rowdyruff Boys. Once the paperwork goes through and all, you will be training with them and joining their team." Blare didn't want a team.
Blare had been perfectly capable of working on his own. He had been in teams a couple of times with human... associates, but they always messed it up. Blare was quick and efficient and worked best on his own.
"Sup, bro, I'm Boomer. Guess you're our new little brother, huh?" The blonde one (Boomer?) walked...floated over to him with a big dopey smile. He had bright, cobalt blue eyes and slight freckles on his cheeks. His uniform was a lot like Blare's new one, only with blue.
Wait...
Little?
"...I think we are the same age..." Boomer's grin didn't falter.
"Well, yeah, but you were born like... three years after us. So, you're totally the youngest brother now." Said "older brother" hugged him and gave him a noogie while he grunted, "don't worry, though, Big Brother Boomer will take good care of you."
"Let. Go. Now."
"Boomer's just happy that he's not the 'youngest' anymore. Try to ignore him. I'm-" The red haired, red eyed one started but was immediately cut off by the brunette.
"I'm Butch! The strongest in the team and the leader of the Rowdyruff Boys!" Butch had dark green eyes and a cocky grin that basically screamed 'I am full of crap'. He wore a matching uniform too, but in green. Blare watched as the red head from before whacked Butch on the head. Boomer rolled his eyes.
"Idiot."
"Hey! Watch it, Blondie!"
"You know what, ignore Butch too. I'm Brick, the actual leader and the older brother to these two morons."
"HEY!" The aforementioned idiots whined before Blare finally flipped Boomer over and slammed him on the ground. "ACK! What gives!?"
"I said let go," Blare said, bored. Butch cheered.
"Dogpile!" The green tank of a seven year old tackled the two and, as Dr. Weasel watched with amusement, Brick was soon pulled into the session of "ruff-housing". Soon, the four boys were wrestling on the ground, bruises and cuts abound as laughter echoed throughout the room.
Blare didn't want a team, but he's cool with brothers.
Blare did not want a truce. He didn't care that they had been in an unofficial truce with the Powerpuff Girls for a year. He didn't care that he had orders from the higher ups to get along with them and that a "truce" would make things easier.
It was troublesome and one would think his brothers would agree, but no.
Nope.
Boomer was head over heels for Bubbles and Brick has been competing with that dorky redhead over Blossom since first grade. And, despite all odds, Buttercup and Butch turned into the best of buddies. So, Blare was overruled.
Whatever.
Fine, he'll agree to the stupid truce, but he will not be friends. This is strictly business. No, he doesn't want to go to the Girls' house after school and-LET GO OF MY ARM!
And thus, he was dragged to the Utonium household to do homework, eat snacks, and goof around. He sighed and joined the group in the living room. Boomer, Bubbles, and Butch were whining about their math homework while Buttercup lamented over science. Brick and Dorkster were arguing over how to interpret a book their teacher had assigned and Blossom was busy with world history.
Well, at least he can actually do his work in relative pea-
"Hey, Blare!" OH GOD NO.
Blare supposed he should have expected her. After all, she joined the Powerpuff Girls a full year before he had. She lived here. So, obviously, he would run into his "counterpart".
"...Bell..." The girl stood in her diva-esque, snobby glory with hair so pristine and white that it put Mister Clean to shame. She was literally blinding him. Bell flashed him a grin and reached out from behind her back to reveal-"No."
"AWWWWWW! Come on, Blare, I stink at math! Pleeeease?"
"Ask your sister to help." Bell pouted like the brat she is.
"She's too busy making sure Brick and Dexter don't kill each other."
"That would be entertaining."
"Dark jokes aside, pleeeease? Professor said if I bring home another D, he'll ground me."
"And that's my problem how?"
"Come on, Blare, we're in a truce, right? Why do you still hate me?" Blare glared and began floating away from her. She followed.
"It's strictly business. I may be in a truce with you and your team, but that doesn't make us friends." Bell pouted and sat down with a huff next to him.
Finally, he had some pea-
"You don't have many friends... do you, Blare?" He jolted and glared at her. She had a mystified look on her face.
"You say that like its an issue."
"I'm just saying...you really only hang out with your brothers... don't you have any friends? Do you even know how to make friends? " Blare rolled his eyes and went back to his paper. "Oh my God, you don't know how, do you?" Bell's aghast face was not necessary. Blare is very well aware that he is considered... antisocial.
Blare didn't make any effort to make friends at school. He could be found with one of his brothers or not at all, depending on his mood. He rarely spoke, he rarely participated in class, and he likes to eat on his own or with his brothers. Bell was the complete opposite of him.
She was bright and cheerful while he was dark and moody. She had a plethora of friends and admirers while people tended to avoid Blare. A few had even tried to bully him.
None left unscathed.
He focused instead on his writing and songs, Blare had found that he had a knack for instruments. He liked being alone most of the time.
Blare did not want friends.
Bell stared in shock as she realized that her counterpart really had no one outside his brothers. Sure, he was close to Dr. Weasel, but to be completely alone outside of family? Homework forgotten, Bell clenched her fist as a new determined look on her face grew.
Blare didn't like that look.
"Well, no more! From now on, Blare, I'm your new bestie!" Blare knew he didn't like that look.
"What? No."
"Oh, it's gonna be great!" She was ignoring him as he frantically shook his head, "we'll stay up late, watch movies, eat waffles, go shopping-" as she prattled on, Blare felt dread creep up from his chest.
Blare did not want a new best friend.
The next day was, thankfully, Saturday and Blare was content in staying home. Brick had left to go to the library, Boomer headed to the zoo with Dr. Weasel, and Butch was with Buttercup at the arcade. So, Blare had the entire house to himself.
Ahhhhhhhhh, this is bliss. Blare flipped on the television and settled on the couch, ready for a long day of relaxa-
DING DONG
DING DONG
Blare stared at the door, mentally begging for the person behind the door to give up.
DINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONG
No such luck.
With a growl, he floated over and opened the door... before promptly trying to slam it. Of course, Bell grabbed the door and shoved it open. "Moooorning, Blare!"
"...What do you want now?" The quick silver girl smiled and floated into the house uninvited. She sported the traditional Powerpuff Girl uniform, in white obviously, and her checkerboard patterned headband.
"Well, I ran into Brick and he said you were home alone today! So I came to take you shopping!" Blare choked on air.
I'm gonna kill him when I see him. Blare shook his head, "not interested. Get out." Blare did not want to shop.
Bell whined, "no way! I came aaaaaaaaaaall this way, Blare! You're coming!"
"Oh yeah, it must of been so hard flying seven miles when you fly at a speed of seventy miles per hour leisurely. Get out."
"Nope! You're coming, Mr. Grumpy Grump!" She grabbed his arm and began dragging him, though he struggled while shouting in Ukrainian.
"*I DON'T WANT TO GO SHOPPING, YOU CRAZY PIECE OF WHITE OUT!*"
"STOP SHOUTING IN UKRAINIAN AND COME ON!"
Bell, true to her word, took him shopping. Blare did not want to go shopping.
Blare also did not want to admit that he had fun.
For weeks, Bell would pop up in his vicinity. He purposely hid from her and she still tracked him down. Brick told him it was some kind of weird connection they all had with their counterparts... as if the chemical makeup in their bodies were drawn to each other.
But, really, come on!
He was getting really tired of looking up to a "HI, BLARE!" every other hour. Butch teased him endlessly about his new "girlfriend".
Butch also got decked, but that is neither here nor there.
Blare finally escaped to the back of the school, deciding he would just eat lunch there. Not exactly his favorite spot, but the only one the white puff hadn't followed him to-
"Hi, Blare!"
Nevermind.
Blare groaned as he turned and glared at Bell, who smiled. "Who do I have to kill to get you to leave me alone?" Bell blanched and shook her head.
"Your jokes are always so dark."
"First, not joking. Second, it's called dark humor, look it up." He plopped down to the ground and began eating his sandwich, knowing full well that Bell would not leave since she found him... and he, unfortunately, cannot outrun her. Bell sat next to him and pulled out her own food.
Silence.
Strange, she was such a chatterbox usually. Blare glanced at her, but she was just eating. This went on for almost the entirety of lunch before he spoke up. "You're quiet."
"So are you."
"Yeah, but you're never quiet. I can literally never get you to shut up." He stared at her as she sighed.
"...Well... you don't like talking to me, so I thought I'll just be quiet...maybe then you won't hate me." Blare looked down at his food. She looked so sad now.
He didn't want her to be sad.
Honestly, Bell was the only one to try so hard to befriend him. Most people stop after the first few attempts. Bell has been actively trying to befriend him for weeks now. It's gotten to the point that her own friends pull her to the side to try and convince her to give up.
He's obviously not interested.
Was he?
Blare couldn't deny that it made him feel... kinda good when Bell tried to include him... when she purposely chose him out of the crowd.
Blare came to a slow realization. He didn't hate Bell.
And he was lonely.
Blare looked at his food and spotted the vanilla cupcake in his lunch. He hated vanilla anyway. He picked it up and pushed it to the platinum blonde girl. She stared at him in shock as his cheeks flushed. "I don't hate you."
Her smile was blinding.
Blare didn't want a best friend, but he'd make an exception this time.
"Ella, calm down."
"Don't you tell me to calm down, Blare! This is, like the biggest thing to happen to us since ever!"
"You mean bigger than when I was legally acquitted of all international charges or bigger than when you were acquitted?"
"Fine, smarta##, the second biggest thing to happen to us! I mean, the Spring Valentines Day Dance! Gowns, tuxedos, and romantic music! It's a dream come true! And it's only a few weeks away! There's so much to do! So much to plan! And I don't even have a date yet!"
Blare perused the selection of bow ties as Bell squealed on the other line. They were now in their sophomore year and Bell had been his best friend for years now. He was more than used to her dramatics and would never ask her to change.
She was one of the most dramatic, ridiculous people he knew. A lot of people compared her to Minako Aino from Sailor Moon.
Bell was an amazing girl.
Blare was crazy about her, but he didn't want to tell her. Not when she had so many admirers who practically blew him out of the water. Like her sisters, as Bell grew older, she grew prettier.
She was like a snowflake, glimmering in the sunlight and unlike any other. Her platinum blonde hair was the stuff hair dye makers and hairstylists dreamt off. Her eyes glowed a soft silver. Her lips were soft strawberry pink and her cheeks were rosy. She had a slim figure, but amazing legs.
She drew men in like a goddess and he was one of the poor souls trapped in her web. Hell, he was so tainted by his own past that he had no hope.
Bell had a similarly tough past, he knew. She had been raised by a madman, intent on ruling the universe.
But she had struggled against him in the end. He had not. And, as far as he knew, she hadn't killed anyone.
So, as Bell lamented about not being able to choose amongst her many requests, he listened like a good friend because that's all he could hope to be. A good friend.
And Blare wasn't like those other idiots who complained about being "friendzoned", whatever that meant. He would be a friend if it meant Bell was happy. He would proudly be that shoulder for her to cry on if she got hurt, because he was her best friend. He would hang out with her and listen to her problems like he was meant to, because they were friends.
He'd be her bestie, her buddy, even if he wanted to be her boyfriend.
Blare didn't want to be just a friend, but he'll take it.
"Hey, Ella, what color was your dress again?"
"Pearl, why?"
"I need to know so my bow tie can match. By the way, I'll pick you up at seven."
"Wait, what!? Blare Jojo, what on earth do you mean!?"
Blare did not want her going to this stupid dance with anyone else, but him. He's not that strong.
He wasn't doing this. He absolutely was not going to do this. It was a stupid idea and this was the last time he listened to Butch or Boomer. Hell, Brick too. No more.
He wasn't a lost little boy anymore. He was almost thirty, for God's sake. He was perfectly capable of making his own decisions and no longer simply did something because everyone else in his team did it.
The first couple to do this was, surprisingly, Buttercup and Butch. Right out of high school even, the lunatics.
Oh, everyone tried to talk some sense into the two, but let's be honest.
Common sense just doesn't come in green, as his lovely girlfriend would say with a flip of her waist length hair.
The two were married that same summer before Butch was deployed to an unspecified location, brand new wifey in tow.
Next was Bubbles and Boomer, since Bubbles wanted to get married under a freaking meteor shower that only came once every fifty years and Boomer is a sap. Sure, it was cool and kinda romantic and they got amazing pictures. Plus, by then, they were twenty three...so fine.
Lastly, after a tumultuous break up that really lasted no longer than a month, Blossom proposed to Brick (they will never let him live it down) and they got married while he was on deployment in Japan. Big brother is now expecting baby no. 1 and with that, everyone is in marital bliss.
Almost everyone, because Blare did not want to get married.
Don't get him wrong. Bell was his soulmate. She took a moody, lonely, broken little boy and showed him that life had more bright moments than dark. She stuck with him through thick and thin, she held him when his nightmares took hold of him. She filled him with so much love that he could never think of anyone but her.
They'd been together (romantically) since that crazy school dance. Blare was still reeling from the confusion of seeing Butch wearing a dress when Bell had asked if they were finally going to go out on a date or was he too busy being angsty?
There was no one else. Ever. Princess had tried and failed... miserably.
No. Only Bell. Always Bell. Bell had his heart and soul and he swore with every breathe that she'd always have it, even in death.
So, that was enough. Why bother with a big show of declaring love and fidelity when it wasn't exactly needed? Wasn't it more intimate to say those vows in private? Why did there need to be witnesses? Why waste all that time and energy and money and sanity on something that was nothing than a glorified skit?
Fundamentally, all weddings are the same anyway. The bride walks down the aisle, the priest or whatever talks God and rainbows and unicorns, they kiss, and it's off to get drunk at the reception.
It's ridiculous.
It's stupid.
It's psychotic.
Bell is well aware of how he feels about her and about weddings. She's come to terms with it. If she really, really needs to be his wife legally, they'll go to the court and do the paperwork.
Blare did not want to have a wedding.
As he stood staring into the blinding and glittery hellhole that demanded that he sacrifice his well earned paycheck (that will, honestly, be spent by Bell anyway), Blare steeled his shoulders and turned to leave.
"Oh, no you don't." A firm hand gripped his shoulder and he cast a dark look at the owner of it. Butch stood fast, green eyes glowing mischievously as Boomer chuckled from behind him. Brick, stoic despite being so obviously tired from getting at three AM to satisfy his pregnant wife's cravings, snorted. "You ain't gonna get out of this, bro."
"This is stupid and I'm not doing it."
"The hell you ain't," Boomer said. "Bubbles knows Bell wants to get married and I promised I wouldn't come home until you pick out a ring."
"That sounds like a personal problem, Boom."
"Look, you love Bell. She loves you. It's only because she loves you that she hasn't started complaining about this because she knows how you feel about weddings." Brick glowered, "and Blossom said if I come home without you picking a ring, she'll skin me alive. So you're going in there and picking one, or else." Blare glared.
"Or. Else. What?"
Butch grinned impishly, "let's just say," Boomer produced Blare's phone, "Bell will get a proposal. Whether or not it's actually from you is a moot point." How did they get... oh these motherf-
"...You wouldn't."
"We would."
"I hate you three."
"You'll thank us, Mr. Eternally Running Away From Commitment." Blare gulped.
He didn't want to get married... but he did want Bell happy.
Fast forward nine months and Blare stood at the alter, all his friends and family present. He had wanted a small wedding with just family present and a nice dinner afterwards. Bell wanted a grand wedding with everyone she's ever freaking met there.
Blare wanted to do it in a month, just get it done and over with, maybe at home. Bell had laughed and scheduled the venue for nine months away.
Blare wanted things to be casual and laid-back, no fancy dress code, maybe an elegant brunch like theme. Bell wanted suit and tie, Grammy Award worthy clothing, and she had a dress shipped over from Italy.
Two totally different wants, but in the end... Bell won. Those big silver eyes could melt anyone's heart. So Blare stood in an elegant Armani suit with gold cuff links. Her sisters and three other friends clad in lavender bridesmaid gowns with their hair up in curly ponytails. His brothers and the other three groomsmen (he honestly forgot their names, Blare will remedy that later) stood in matching suits, though theirs were grey while his was black.
The venue was extravagant as they all waited in the garden for the bride to arrive. Family and friends awaited eagerly in the white, cushy chairs. Purple flower petals had been haphazardly scattered by Buttercup's three year old daughter, Blitzkrieg (Butch will never be given the okay to name a baby ever again).
Said tiny terror sat in her own lavender gown, bored.
I feel you, you little imp. Finally, after what felt like hours, the music changed and everyone turned. Blare felt the world stop. He hadn't been allowed to even see the gown on Bell.
Now, it had the full affect.
It was a slim, wedding dress with a long train. He distinctly remembered Bubbles mentioning that it was a soft trumpet style or whatever. But it was off white with intricate floral stitching and seed pearl beading. Lace covered over the top and made the sleeves too as they wove her elbows. The heart shaped neckline was dipped low, but the lace covered over her conservatively enough. She sported a silver necklace that held a sapphire pendant in the shape of a bell.
Bubbles had cute taste.
She also sported hanging silver earrings with diamond pendants that Blare recognized as Blossom's.
And the shoes she wore, silver heels with straps that zipped up on the sides. Shoes Buttercup had worn to the senior prom when Butch proposed.
"Something old, something new. Something borrowed, something blue," Blossom's voice rang in his head.
Her hair was done in loose beach waves and she sported a chapel veil that followed behind her. The professor had misty eyes as he guided his last "daughter" down the aisle. Dr. Weasel looked equally emotional as the little boy who had been so scared and had clung onto him for so long was now finally growing up.
Blare did not want to cry at his own wedding. He will not cry at his own wedding.
Butch nudged him and made a weeping motion with his eyes as he snickered.
A*hole.
The bridal march ended either too quickly or not quickly enough and, soon, Blare was staring his angel in the eyes.
Mouth open, air was not coming in.
Bell giggled and shut his mouth, causing the audience to laugh. The pastor... justice of the peace... they had agreed no pastors... began his speech about love and blah blah blah.
Nothing mattered to Blare more than this woman. This crazy, snobby brat who brought light into his world and dragged him out of his own darkness. This annoying, whiny girl who made him laugh and smile more than anyone on earth. The woman who listened to his problems, wiped away his tears, and kissed every scar on his heart.
The girl who understood him more than anyone else because she had been once trapped in such darkness and who taught him how to overcome it. His eyes filled with tears as he realized how much he loved her.
It was a love that made it hard to breathe, but he couldn't live without it. It was crazy, ridiculous, stupid, and how the hell did he ever think he could go on without making her his wife in front of everyone who knew them?
Did he honestly think he could go on through life, introducing her as his girlfriend and not his wife? Was he always that stupid?
Girlfriend was good and maybe for some people that was enough, but not for him. No, Bell was more than that. She was beginning and the end, she was all he really had. And Blare was an idiot to think she only needed to be his girlfriend.
"Do you, Blare Taylor Jojo, take Bell Emilia Utonium to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, or for worse, for richer, or for poorer, in sickness, and in health? With respect for her integrity and faith in your union, do you promise to unfailingly seek out the best you can in her, loving her every day, in every way, until the end of your forever? If so, please answer: I DO."
"I do..." Bell's eyes seemed to glow with a happiness he had never seen before. Blare was an idiot to think he didn't want to get married.
Blare didn't want to be an idiot like that ever again.
Blare dragged his feet up the steps to his house as the sun reached the horizon. He was finally home after a full month of being away on another mission and had just gotten out of debriefing. He opened the door to see total darkness. He cracked his neck and called out, "Ella? Are you home?"
It was a tough job, but Blare was fine with it. As a consequence of his youth, Blare was required to work for a clandestine part of the government, gathering intel and preventing wars and threats. Blare enjoyed his work some days, but others would leave him wishing for a cushy desk job somewhere.
Oh well, at least he was paid well and he had a loving wife to come home to.
Speaking of whom, where was-
"WELCOME HOME, BLARE BEAR!" A white haired woman pounced on him, squeezing him as she lamented that he was gone so long and that he missed her show. Blare smiled and kissed her head.
"I hear you were magnificent as always." Bell laughed.
"Of course, why else would I get the part of Lady Macbeth? I do nothing but act magnificent!" She spun out of his arms and pulled him away, "but enough about me! I know your tired, so I made you dinner." Blare gulped.
While Bell was leagues better than Blossom, she was decidedly lacking in culinary skills. In fact, she usually ruined anything that wasn't prepackaged and required more than five steps. Blare whimpered, "that's...great, Bell, thank you so much."
Bell rolled her eyes, "geez, Buttercup helped, you wimp." Blare let out a sigh of relief. "I'm not that bad."
"Of course not, Sweetheart."
"Whatever," she pouted, "well, come and eat! It'll get cold." Blare followed her to their little dining room and saw the steaming plate of lasagna, as well as a yellow folder on his seat. He picked it up and sat down. Bell sat beside him and began chattering happily about what had happened while he was away.
Blossom had finally had baby no. 3.
Blitzkrieg had her first crush and Butch about had an aneurysm.
Bubbles and Boomer are thinking of moving back to Townsville to raise their new baby.
Dr. Weasel is talking retirement.
The professor had been given the all clear from his heart scare last month, thank God.
Brick might be deployed again soon, he won't say why.
Butch may be joining him.
"And that's about it. A lot happened this month."
"Sounds like it," Blare remembered the envelope. He reached for it and-
"Oh, and I had to go to the doctor."
Froze. The doctor? Bell? Why? Bell was brimming with Chemical X, which practically ate through most ailments. It was usually only a very strong strain that took her, him, or any of their siblings down. Even the new generation of Puffs and Ruffs were displaying the same attribute.
Blare gulped and grabbed her hands, looking her dead in the eyes. "Why? Are you okay? Are you sick? If your sick, why haven't you taken off work? I know acting and being a superhero is important to you, but your health is-" Bell covered his mouth.
"Blare Bear, open the envelope." He spoke despite the fact her slender finger was pressed against his lips.
"Mell, ipff yor shik-"
"Open. Envelope." To appease her so he could continue to grill her, Blare opened the envelope and slipped out a sheet of paper.
Lab results.
Lab test results.
Pregnancy test results.
Bell was pregnant.
According to this paper of doom, she was two months along. Blare thought back to the past two months... according to this, she had gotten pregnant on their fifth anniversary when she decided to visit him at HQ for a private "lunch" in his office.
Oh God, Blare was going to be a father.
I don't want to be a father, Blare thought as horror gripped his spine.
Don't get him wrong. Blare has nothing against children. Children are some of the most innocent creatures on earth, like unmolded clay.
And he loves his nieces and nephews to bits.
Brick had two sons already and now a bouncing baby girl.
Butch had three. An eight year old Blitzkrieg, a five year old Baron, and little two year old Bisca.
Boomer had his son Bryce and five month old Bridgette.
And all loved Uncle Blare, who took them to movies, stuffed them with candy, and set on their merry ways home. And of course, Auntie Bell was just so cool, acting on stage and TV and taking them shopping and spoiling them while her sisters' cry out "stop, stop!"
What was wrong with that set up? It was perfect! And his brothers showed no signs of slowing down, so everyone wins. They could have all the cute and cuddly and fun times without the responsibility. Tired of child? Simply ship back to parent.
Problem solved.
Mission accomplished.
They can't do that with this child. Why? Because they're the parents and they have the responsibility.
I can't be a dad. I don't wanna be a dad.
Blare did not want kids, Blare was perfectly happy as an uncle. And Bell had been too.
"I love kids, but I have a career ahead of me, Blare Bear. I can't slow down to be a mommy."
So what changed?!
Bell waved her hand in his face, "Sweetie? Blare Bear, are you okay?"
"...baby...?"
"Yeah... I'm pregnant." Blare almost squeaked that he didn't want to be a parent, but he was not stupid. He wasn't Butch.
Blare loved Bell and he was very well aware of her temper. He was not going to say something that could possibly get him killed by his wife.
But still, a baby!?
Blare wasn't even sure if he was capable of being a father! The beginning of his life was filled with nothing but mental torture, agony, and guilt. There was no love, there was no compassion; he learned nothing of the sort from the man who, by all accounts, was his father. He'd spent his early developmental years in misery and depression, had done things that made grown men shiver in horror to innocent people, and had nearly been executed for it before he was even ten.
He still bore the scars. Some would never heal and sometimes, they tore open and discharged emotion puss out. He'd gone under a psychiatric microscope and been subject to evaluation after evaluation before he even reached thirteen.
He was lucky that he did an okay job as an uncle. How could he possibly subject a child to him as a father!?
"Blare, breathe! You're having a panic attack, Honey, I need you to breathe!" Bell's voice pulled him back from his own abyss and he realized that, yes, air was needed.
He gasped in air and stared at her. "A... f... f... fathe...father!?"
"Blare, what's going on? What are you thinking?" Bell's voice was unusually calm and mature, totally opposite to her own childish demeanor.
Child.
Oh God, he was going to be a father.
"Bell... Ella, I can't..." His breathing was quick, "I can't...be a dad... I..."
"Why not? Tell me why not..." That was one thing he had never spoke of. Bell only knew that Blare had suffered similar things like she did. She knew nothing of the extent of his crimes, just that they existed and that they were many. She knew nothing of his father, nothing about what things he had done... nothing of the uprisings.
But after that night, Blare tearfully told her.
Every.
Single.
Thing.
That he had held back for about thirty years. He painted the picture of his home, in black tears and red blood. He sobbed out the name of every person he killed, every family he wiped out.
That night, he showed her just how steeped in blood his hands were.
And she still held them. Blare expected Bell to slip off her wedding band and walk out, but she held him... and cried... hard.
"I don't know what hurts more... the fact that you had to do those things... or the fact that you've held this inside for almost thirty years..." She looked up at him with tears still falling, "does anyone else know?"
Shaking his head, he held her tighter than he ever had. Bell sobbed.
"You were so hurt... and I didn't even know..."He cried too.
"...I couldn't tell you...I was afraid to lose you...you're the only thing that is so right about this world...but I... can't subject a child to me... I can't let something so innocent be ruined by me." She grabbed his face and kissed him.
"Listen to me," Bell said, "you're not some horrific monster. You're not a killing machine and you're not a weapon. Blare, you are the most compassionate person I have ever known. You remembered those names for almost thirty years, because you felt guilty. You knew it was wrong, but you were a baby, Blare. You didn't know what to do or how to fix it. A weapon wouldn't have wanted to fix it."
She wiped his tears, "and since you came here, you've done nothing but grow stronger. You overcame your past, you gained a family, you made friends and lived your life. You upheld right against wrong and I've seen you with the kids, you love them." She took his hand and set it on her abdomen. He could feel it starting to get...different. Not hard yet and barely noticeable, but there was definitely a change. Perhaps he noticed because they'd been together for so long. "This baby going to be born and they'll look in your eyes and know that Daddy would stop the world for them. They'll know Mommy loves them more than anything and they will never go through what we did. Okay, Blare? It's not that you don't want to be a father." She kissed him again, "you just want to be the best father."
Blare didn't want to argue. Because he knew she was right.
And now, months later, Blare felt nothing but fear as the minutes ticked by. He stood beside the hospital bed, hand definitely broken, as his greater than God wife worked on pushing a person out of her.
Blare decided that he would build a time machine, find the person who first said "men were superior to women", and he would deck him in the face.
Because he was wrong. Oh so wrong!
Dr. Kliech, a very calm and patient man (judging from the fact that he didn't flinch when Bell punched Blare into the wall for "doing this to me, you emo piece of sh-"), sat in front of his spread eagle wife as she swore.
Another contraction.
For once, Blare was happy to not be in that position. He made the mistake of sneaking a peek out of curiosity and woke up on the floor as Bell looked down at him, kind of worried.
Blare was told he had fainted.
Blare disagreed, he does not faint. It was... spontaneous deep meditation...yeah, his councillor suggested it.
"You're an idiot," Bell said before another contraction racked through her. The nurses flinched as Bell sonic screamed and-ohhh, there goes a window. "Blare Jojo, when I get done with you, you'll never get it up again!"
"Yes, dear," Blare patted her forehead with a clothe. "Breathe, Ella, you need to-"
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK I'M DOING HERE? SNORKELING!?" Another sonic scream. He could hear Boomer laughing in the waiting room.
He had been the last one to get the sonic screams to the face when his kids were born. Blare was gonna have words with that blonde jerk when this was over, he did not care if Boomer headed their Navy unit.
"OW! OH MY GOD, OW!" And his wrist is broken. Oh well, it'll heal in an hour tops.
"We have crowning," Dr. Kleich said loudly, slipping on the gloves and signalling for the nurses to get ready. "Push, Mrs. Jojo!"
"C...crowning..."
"THEY SEE THE HEAD, YOU IDIOT!"
Blare knew that, but once again, he's not Butch. He's not stupid. He was not gonna say he knew things when Bell was obviously... irate.
Bell screamed again, tears leaking out, "THIS SUCKS!"
"Just a little bit longer, Ella, you're doing amazing."
"BLAAAAA-AAAARE, YOU DID THIS TO ME!"
"I know, Baby, I know. But you're so much stronger than I am, I couldn't do this." That earned him a tired smile before it melted into another wail.
"You're doing great, keep pushing!"
"YOU LITTLE DEMON, GET OUT OF ME!" Bell sobbed and Blare gulped. Did it usually take almost seventy two hours? He really hoped this was normal. God, why didn't he research that? Bell's grip tightened on his hand, which he lost all feeling in seven hours ago.
Bell was tired.
He was tired.
He didn't want her to be in so much pain. He wanted it to end, but the only way for it to end was for this baby to come out already. What was it's problem, hurry the hell up already!
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"
"WWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" an answering scream echoed through the air as Blare watched the doctor pull up a red, squirmy watermelon-thing and oh God, that was their child.
Bell, with all the strength she could muster, lifted her head up and looked over to the tiny thing as it continued to wail and cry just like its mother. She smiled.
"Alright, Daddy, do you want to cut your daughter's cord?"
Daughter... they have a daughter. Blare has a little girl. Blare looked at Bell like a lost puppy. Bell snorted, "go... say hi to our baby."
He didn't even register when he was walking, just that suddenly he was cutting an umbilical cord...trying hard not to remember that it was still leading to Bell.
They washed the baby off, swaddled her, checked for any concerns, then handed the baby to the newly relocated parents. Blare stared down at the tiny girl, still red faced from all the screaming, but calm now that her mom held her.
Such thick, pale hair. It would be beautiful just like Mommy's. But she definitely had Daddy's eyes. She had opened them and it felt like she was peering straight into Blare's soul. The little girl, who had taken her sweet time coming, was finally here and she was the most precious thing Blare had ever seen. "We never decided on a name... what should we name her?"
They made this. They made her. They made such a perfect, sweet little angel despite all their scars and terrors. Blare had never felt such happiness, not even when he had realized that he was in love with Bell. Not even when they had gotten married had Blare felt such "Bliss."
"I like it... Bliss Samantha Jojo."
Blare had a lot of things happen to him that he didn't want. He didn't want to be forced to kill, torture, and oppress. He didn't want to almost be executed. He didn't want to join a team of rowdy boys who would later become his brothers. He didn't want to make a truce with a group of powered girls who would later become his friends. He didn't want to become best friends with his counterpart. He didn't want to fall in love with her. He didn't want to go to some stupid Valentine's Day Dance, but he definitely didn't want her to go with anyone else. He didn't want to get married, but he didn't want her to be unhappy. He didn't want to have a baby because he didn't want to corrupt it. And he certainly didn't want to have to wake up every hour because a fussy little diva named Bliss just didn't want to sleep through the night like a sane human being.
But, as Blare stood in that nursery, holding the little terror as she gurgled and cooed up at him with big, dark grey eyes and a look of innocent that she definitely got from Mama, Blare realized something.
For all the things he didn't want to do, he wouldn't go back and undo them.
There! Now that this is finally out of my head, maybe I can finally finish Green Maiden.
New Story Button - YO.
Oooooh, no! Not you again! Not today!