It was the strangest sensation, skipping school. Blossom had always, deep down inside, wanted to do it, seeing as she hated school so much—but she always knew that she shouldn't, that it was the law for her to go to school, even though they were teaching her things she already knew. Still, however, she felt that, right now, she had every justification for skipping school, and her lingering feelings of doubt were put to rest by Mojo.

"Go to school?" he snorted. Despite the fact that they were both now completely and totally in tune with each other's minds, both Mojo and Blossom had resolved to continue talking—probably just because they both loved to hear themselves talk. "How could you even think of stooping to such a low, especially now? Do you not realize that you can learn far more from me than those underpaid teachers? Let us begin your training, which was, of course, the original reason for you originally coming here in the first place!"

"I know, but it's still wrong," sighed Blossom. "I should be a good citizen and go to school like I'm supposed to."

"So let me get this straight, Blossom: skipping school is wrong, but a fifteen-year-old girl running away from home to gather knowledge from and lose her virginity to her evil monkey foe isn't? Oh, I completely see the logic there! And that was sarcasm, by the way—I actually see no logic in your thoughts at all, and I say that knowing full well your thoughts, for I—"

Blossom sighed. "Alright, I get it, you win. I'll stay here." Without thinking, she cracked a grin—Mojo's habit of needless repetition had always amused her, although she had of course never let anyone know. Laughing fondly at your enemy's idiosyncrasies was probably not the best way to fight him.

"It pleases me that you find my manner of speaking amusing, droll, and in its own way charming, but we probably should get started on your lessons, for I know that you want to learn from me, and—"

"What do you have to teach me?" Blossom interrupted. "You know it can't be something that I already know."

"Of course," said Mojo. He took Blossom's hand and led her to a room that, when Blossom had helped build the observatory, had merely been a storage room. Now it was a veritable library, filled with piles and piles of unorganized books. "As you can see, my dear Blossom, throughout the years I have accumulated a number of evil books about evil which are very evil, and that you certainly would never have had access to in your non-evil life."

"…Evil?" Blossom asked.

Mojo smiled. "Do not think of it as evil, think of it as unacquired knowledge."

"It's tempting," said Blossom guardedly, "but I'm not going to stoop to such… well, evil levels!"

Wasn't that what you did when you came here? asked Mojo silently, pulling a book from the nearest pile and holding it enticingly in front of her. "Come on, I know you want it."

Despite every moral nerve in her body telling her that this was wrong, Blossom couldn't help but be allured by the book and what it had to offer. She took it from Mojo's hands, her eyes wide with wonder.

Wonderment—it was a rare feeling for Blossom to experience, and Mojo knew this as well as she did. His own heart swelled with joy as he watched his beautiful Powerpuff Girl gaze at her ticket to more of what she loved, the knowledge of something new. She was so rarely happy, which made her happiness even more of a marvel to Mojo—and while he was not one to subscribe to the silly romantic notions of humans, it was still strangely marvelous to know that it was thanks to him that she was feeling this joy.

Strange… as much as he had loved hurting her, he loved making her happy almost more.

Blossom looked up at Mojo and smiled. "What's this? I'm falling into evil, while you're falling into good? Looks like we're both working our charms on each other." How odd, she couldn't help but marvel to herself. They were acting like those happy lovers she's often see in movies, laughing and joking with each other, despite how rough he had been with her last night. It made no sense… but what did anymore?

Actually, Mojo reflected to himself, the recent proceedings of their relationship made a lot of sense. After all, both he and Blossom were egotistical, arrogant, self-centered, narcissistic, and in short thought highly of themselves; and the characteristics that Mojo loved about himself, and that Blossom loved about herself, were shared by the two of them, so why wouldn't their love for each other win out over their hatred?

"I'm almost getting more knowledge without having to read any books," said Blossom.

Mojo smiled. "But you still want to read the book."

Blossom hesitated for a moment. Reading a book about evil seemed like it was a bad thing… but how could someone be good if they didn't know what evil was? You can't have the good without the bad…

"…and you can't be the best superhero you can be if you don't know evil as well as you know good," Mojo finished for her.

Blossom grinned. "That's good enough for me."

O.o.O

Blossom learned more that day than she had learned during her past five years of school. Mojo was right—she would never have been allowed near the books he had, let alone allowed to read them. As she read, she jogged Mojo's memory, and he would be reminded of how he had implemented the evil schemes that she read about.

Experiencing Mojo's memories was an amazing new experience to Blossom—for she, for the first time in her life, finally found out what most people's memories were like. Her own memories were as crisp and clear as if she was constantly experiencing them, but Mojo's were faded, missing a few pieces, a kind of blur of the highlights of the events remembered. They intrigued her, they made her wish that she could have imperfect memories, memories that left blanks to fill—or to leave blank, if one so desired.

"But your memory intrigues me, Blossom," said Mojo.

Blossom looked up from the book she was reading—she was on her fourth, a totally illegal book explaining just how to make deadly explosives. The book chilled her—and it chilled her that Mojo would have a book like that in the first place—but it was new knowledge, and Blossom was eating it up like raspberry pie.

"If only I had had that ability," Mojo continued, looking wistfully off into space, "that ability to analyze my plans and discover just where and how I faltered, being able to replay everything exactly as it happened!"

"It's not all it's cracked up to be," muttered Blossom.

"Yes, I know," said Mojo softly. "I have—"

"—known and lived with everything that I've gone through these past six years, I know," finished Blossom. "You can stop telling me."

Mojo smiled at her. "I thought that you like it when I am needlessly and redundantly repetitive and repeat myself needlessly."

"The first three or so times, yes. But after that it just gets old."

"I suppose that you are right… on both accounts," said Mojo. "With your memory, many things have grown mundane and dull for you, and thus you lose your appreciation for those things in the first place, including things you find humorous. Explaining, of course, another reason why you came here—you longed for a new experience."

"True," said Blossom, wondering why they were still bothering talking to each other.

Mojo hesitated at that, for he knew exactly why he still wanted to keep up conversations with her. The more he focused on talking, the less chance random, unguarded thoughts had a chance of reaching Blossom's own mind. He had, of course, grown accustomed to partaking in her thoughts, but the loss of his own privacy was taking a lot of getting used to.

Blossom grinned. Because then I know your every inhibition, and know you as the way you truly are? It IS a scary thought, isn't it?

Hey, I have known your every inhibition for—

—six years. Yeah, I know. I got that the first time, remember?

You and your sarcasm, you think it makes you so humorous!… Well, in a way it does, but still…

Blossom scooted closer to Mojo, setting the book aside and focusing all her attention on him. Her thoughts were no longer in words, but she knew exactly what she wanted from him.

"I think… I think I'm done studying for now."

It was Mojo's turn to look shocked. He, of course, knew exactly how Blossom felt for him, but still, how could she be looking at him the same way she had last night, with those wide pleading eyes—even after what he had done to her!

But it's not the same, thought Blossom as she moved even closer to Mojo, who was still gaping at her with large, surprised eyes. I want it to be different this time. Please, Mojo… please be gentle with me… I don't want to be hurt again…

She was pleading… pleading! Mojo's limbs were frozen as Blossom reached out and stroked his face. How can I say no to that face… wait a minute, Blossom, you most certainly are not as weak and helpless as you are acting now! You are NEVER helpless! You are simply playing with me to get what you want!

And it's working. Blossom smirked smugly. I know you can't say no to me…

Why are you…

"Please, Mojo," whispered Blossom aloud, leaning in close to his ear. She smiled inwardly as she felt him shiver beneath her. "Please be gentle with me this time… please…"

Finally Mojo was able to move. He took Blossom's hand in his own. Blossom let out a small, pleased sigh, feeling his surrender to her. Truthfully, she was as nervous as he was right then—but it didn't matter, she would make it special this time—she would show him how grateful she was for all his help—

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

"Curses," muttered both Blossom and Mojo. They exchanged exasperated glances.

"I will answer the knocking at the door and ask the knocker who knocked on my door for what reason they knocked," sighed Mojo, gently sliding Blossom off of him and leaving the room.

Blossom grabbed the book again, growling to herself in irritation. Damn interruption anyway… it took a long time to build that mood up!

O.o.O

Bubbles and Buttercup wasted no time, and before they knew it they were at Mojo's old, familiar volcano-top observatory. Buttercup immediately headed straight for the door, but Bubbles held her back.

"Buttercup, let me handle this," she said.

Buttercup growled dangerously. "What do you mean, you'll handle this?"

"Remember how you overreacted at Chris's?" said Bubbles sternly. "And that was a false alarm anyway!"

"Like this probably will be," said Buttercup stubbornly. "Fine then, you knock."

"I will," said Bubbles, glaring at Buttercup. She took a step forward and knocked three times.

"There won't be any answer," said Buttercup. "He probably died years ago."

"Maybe he did," said Bubbles. "But maybe he didn't. We'll find out soon enough."

They stood waiting for about three more seconds.

"'Up, there's no answer!" said Buttercup quickly. "He's dead. Let's go home."

"You need to wait longer than—"

The door suddenly opened, cutting Bubbles off. She and Buttercup gasped. Mojo looked rather shocked himself.

"Well, this is unexpected," he finally said.

Bubbles trembled, searching for the courage to speak. When they had been younger, back when Bubbles was just a little baby—well, Buttercup liked to say she still was a baby—no villain had frightened her as much as Mojo Jojo. Sure, Him had been terrifying, and Bubbles very rightly feared him. But what made Him different from Mojo was that Him just seemed to be evil just because he enjoyed it, while Mojo's desire to be evil was more driven, with a real purpose behind it. Ever since Bubbles discovered that he had been mutated thanks to the creation of the Girls, she had pitied him. She pitied her creator, her would-be destroyer, her one-time friend, a very, very long time ago.

She pitied him right then, looking upon him, and she also felt the old fear rise again. She was now taller than him, actually, and Mojo had noticeably aged, but Bubbles could tell that he was still powerful—he was still Mojo Jojo. And she was still scared of him.

"Uh, I'm sorry to bother you, Mojo," she finally said, in her super-polite voice, "but Buttercup and I were looking for our sister, and we thought—"

"Yes, yes, she's coming," interrupted Mojo impatiently.

Bubbles blinked. "She is?"

"Yes, and she should be—"

"Buttercup! Bubbles!"

"Blossom!" gasped Bubbles, as her sister crushed her with a hug. Bubbles managed to return it, nearly crying at her thanks for finding Blossom safe and unharmed, but still her mind wondered at how Blossom had known they were there, and how Mojo had known that she knew—he hadn't turned around and looked back in his house! Maybe he heard her?

Blossom let go of Bubbles and hugged Buttercup. "How on Earth did you girls know I was here?" she asked.

"Never mind that—how did you know we were coming?" asked a dumbfounded Buttercup.

"Come on, answer my question first—I asked first!"

Buttercup scowled. "I will, once we get some privacy!" She glared at Mojo, making it clear what she meant.

Blossom sighed and gave Mojo a look of her own, but Bubbles couldn't interpret exactly what it meant. Mojo obviously could, however, for he turned and went inside, closing the door behind him.

"It really doesn't matter, he'll hear everything we say anyway," said Blossom, shrugging apologetically.

"How?" cried Buttercup. "How will he—how did you know we were coming—why did you go to Mojo's in the first place—"

"I'll answer all of that, I promise," said Blossom quickly, "but you have to answer my question first. Why did you come looking for me here? I mean, if I were in your shoes, Mojo's would be about the last place I'd look."

"It was something the Professor said," said Bubbles. "Something about… a balance, and things being split…"

"He said that when we were created, we should have been one, but we were all split," Buttercup said, filling in for Bubbles. "Me and Bubbles are physically perfect, while you and Mojo are mentally perfect."

"That's what Mojo was saying!" said Blossom, her eyes growing wide. "At least about us. But with you girls…"

"He's right, too," said Bubbles. "The Professor, that is. Me and Buttercup can feel each other's pain!"

"Yeah…" said Blossom thoughtfully. "Wow, how did I never notice that before? You girls were always hurting at the same time! It's true!"

"And Bubbles had to prove it by stuffing her mouth full of the Professor's peppers," muttered Buttercup. "My mouth is still scorched."

"What did the Professor say about Mojo and me?" Blossom asked softly.

Buttercup shrugged, looking irritated. "The same thing that happened to me and Bubbles happened to you and Mojo—what should have been one was split into two! You got the 'I must always do exactly what I'm told!' mentality, while Mojo got the 'Rowr I'm evil!' mentality! They've both needed together for absolute perfection—"

"—but we were split, and we're both imperfect," finished Blossom sadly.

"We're all imperfect—all four of us," said Bubbles quietly. "Right? I mean, if all four of us were one being we'd be perfect…"

"My God," whispered Blossom, pacing up and down in front of the door. "I can't believe I never thought of all of this before! Neither can Mojo, for that matter."

"How do you know what Mojo's thinking at this very moment?" snapped Buttercup.

Blossom sighed. "Well, I did promise you that I'd tell you. You said that the Professor said that Mojo and I were the mental side of things—and we really do share the same mind, basically."

"You have telepathy?" asked Bubbles, confused.

"It's far more than telepathy," sighed Blossom, suddenly looking very old. Bubbles gulped. "We know each other's thoughts, every single one of them. I only just learned how, but Mojo's known mine for six years now. Can you imagine, you guys? For six years now I've had no privacy at all, even when I thought I did."

"What a bastard," growled Buttercup.

"He can't help it," said Blossom. "Neither can I. Now that we've learned, it's like a radio station that I can't possibly tune out—and it's the same with him. We really do have the same mind, in a lot of ways."

"This is… confusing," murmured Bubbles.

"It's more than that!" cried Buttercup. "It's crazy! Blossom, you just said that you only just learned how to read Mojo's thoughts—so why did you run away here in the first place?"

Blossom sighed again, flopping against the wall and sliding into a sitting position. "I was hoping you wouldn't ask that," she muttered.

"What's the matter, Blossom?" asked Bubbles, sitting next to her and putting her arm around her shoulder. "Why don't you want to tell?"

"Because… because I've been keeping a really terrible secret from you girls practically our entire lives," said Blossom. "I…"

"You what?" asked Buttercup, also sounding concerned.

Blossom gulped. "Girls, I've been in love with Mojo basically ever since we first met him."

Bubbles and Buttercup stared in stunned silence.

If there was one thing Bubbles prided herself on, it was intuitively knowing what people were feeling. She had known, for instance, that Blossom had had a crush on Chris before she had ever really said anything to Bubbles. It was how she had known that Buttercup had been hiding her fears from her during their searches for Blossom, how she had known that Chris was telling the truth when he said he didn't know where Blossom was. The question on her mind, then, wasn't "How could someone like Blossom love someone like Mojo?"—because that actually did make sense—but rather, "How could I not have known?"

"Our entire lives?" she finally asked softly.

"Yeah, pretty much," said Blossom. "It was kinda like when you had that crush on Ace, Buttercup. I was totally enraptured like the five-year-old I was, and when we found out he was just using us, I was so completely heartbroken—"

"—but you never got over him," finished Buttercup. "You're as bad as Bubbles, Blossom! Except you're worse! I mean—this is Mojo Jojo you're talking about!"

"I know!" snapped Blossom angrily. "Don't you think I've been telling myself that for these past ten years? It's insane. I'm insane. I hoped that as I grew up I would grow out of it, but every time I saw him, every time I even just thought of him, all those things he'd say and do to Townsville, to us, to me… I hated him for them, and I hated myself for them, because I just kept falling more and more in love with him."

Buttercup stared at Blossom, dumbfounded. "But… he's… he's Mojo…"

"I know he is," murmured Blossom. "That's why I love him."

Having nothing to say to that, Buttercup sat on the other side of Blossom and put her arm around her shoulder. The three Powerpuff Girls looked off into the distance for a few moments, saying nothing.

"I'm sorry I kept it a secret from you girls this whole time," Blossom finally said. "But, truthfully, I was lying to myself as well… I was trying to convince myself that there was nothing there for me to love anymore, even though I…"

"It's okay, Blossom," said Bubbles. "Don't apologize. I would have kept it a secret too, if it was me."

"You're not mad?" Blossom asked. "You don't think I'm… a freak for this?"

Buttercup forced out a laugh. "Blossom, I've always thought you were a freak."

Blossom and Bubbles laughed too, relieving a bit of the tension.

There was a small silence as the girls continued to gaze out over their beloved city.

"When are you coming back home?" Buttercup finally asked.

Blossom looked down at the ground. "I don't know if—"

"You've got to come back!" Buttercup interrupted. "We can't function without you, Blossom. We're a team, and—"

"You two are more than capable of handling things without me," said Blossom. "In fact… with the way I've been acting, you're better off without me."

"Don't say that!" cried Bubbles.

"Blossom, I'm not the leader that you are," said Buttercup, sadly but sincerely. "I've realized that now. I can't fight crime without you."

"You're going to have to eventually anyway," said Blossom softly, "even if I do come back."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You saw how much Mojo's aged," sighed Blossom. "He won't live much longer… and when he dies, I'll likely die too, since we have the same mind… and almost the same body, even."

"But…" whispered Bubbles, not wanting to believe what she somehow knew was true.

"Don't be so morbid," said Buttercup fiercely. "Sure, so he's older… but he seemed healthy enough—he's not going to shove off tomorrow!"

"Maybe not tomorrow, but at the rate he's aged already… I'd be surprised if we last another year, I really would…" Blossom lifted her face and looked straight upwards again, but it seemed she wasn't focusing on anything in particular.

"Aren't you scared?" asked Bubbles in a hushed, frightened tone.

Blossom looked at Bubbles and shrugged. "Yeah, but what can I do? Being scared won't save me. It won't make death any easier."

"You can't die yet," said Buttercup. She sounded detached, as if she were talking to herself. "You're only fifteen. You can't die."

"I've been near death before, and I was only eight," Blossom reminded them gently.

"But Blossom…" Bubbles hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. "If you really are going to… you know… soon, then that's all the more reason for you to come home! You should spend your last days with family, not with…" She stopped, realizing that to finish the sentence, she would force Blossom to choose between her family and the person she loved.

"Girls, I can't spend the rest of my life moping around the house and complaining how much my life sucks!" cried Blossom, standing up again with resolution. "I'm actually happy here. I'm learning things I never knew. I was right—only Mojo can give me what I want—knowledge beyond what anyone else has!"

"But we're sad without you," said Bubbles simply.

Blossom sighed and looked at the silently pleading faces of both Bubbles and Buttercup. "I might come home," she finally relented. "But not yet. Not until I feel like I can be a productive member of society again."

There was another silence… broken by Buttercup's sharp laughter.

"What's so funny?" demanded Blossom.

"It's just ridiculous," chortled Buttercup. "You say you want to be more productive—and that Mojo's helping you become more productive. I mean, I understand why, but it just sounds so silly!"

Bubbles giggled, and Blossom cracked a smile.

"Is the Professor worried about me?" she asked, her face serious again.

"Duh," said Buttercup.

"Yeah, he really is, Blossom," said Bubbles.

"Tell him I'm safe, will you? Tell him I'm safe and I'm happy and I love him. I love you girls too." Blossom gave her sisters another hug, one with each arm.

"Is this our cue to exit?" Buttercup asked, forcing a small smile.

"I know you want to help me, but there's nothing you can do," said Blossom softly.

"We love you too, Blossom," whispered Bubbles, returning Blossom's hug tightly.

Blossom smiled at Bubbles, then turned to Buttercup. Buttercup's checks flushed a slight pink, and then she said, abashedly, "What she said."

Bubbles grinned. Buttercup had always had trouble with "the L word".

"Don't worry about me, girls," said Blossom. "I'm fine. And you will be too. Both of you are great crimefighters in your own right."

"Are you sure you're fine?" Buttercup demanded. "I mean, you look… you look pretty battered, and I know that could be because of the fight with the Rowdyruff Boys from a few days ago, but… come on, I know Mojo! You just show up at his doorstep—hasn't he wanted to hurt you?"

Blossom looked down at the ground. "Well… yes…"

"Has he?" Bubbles asked.

"She's a Powerpuff Girl," said Buttercup. "She wouldn't let someone hurt her without—"

"He has hurt me," Blossom whispered.

"—kicking his butt… He's hurt you? That son of a bitch!" Buttercup shot a glance at Bubbles. "Come on, let's kick his butt!"

"No!" screamed Blossom. "Don't! It's alright, because we feel each other's pain, so when he hurts me he hurts himself just as bad."

"Hold the phone," said Buttercup, cutting Blossom off. "You and Mojo are supposed to have a mental connection, not a physical one. How can you feel each other's pain?"

"You feel pain through your neurons, which are part of the nervous system," said Blossom. "It stands to reason that if we share the same brain, we'd feel each other's pain." She paused, rubbing her chin in a thoughtful manner. "If you girls have a physical connection, then you might have a bit of a mental connection too. Maybe you have telepathy."

Bubbles and Buttercup stared at each other.

Telepathy? Bubbles thought, directing her thought towards Buttercup.

You don't think… Buttercup thought.

"Well?" Blossom asked.

"I think maybe we need to look into this further," Buttercup said aloud.

"Yeah… that was freaky," said Bubbles.

Blossom smiled at them. "You go do that then. Imagine how effective crimefighters you'd be if you had telepathy! No one would know your next move because you'd give your instructions to each other silently! This is amazing. See, you girls don't need me."

"But you are a big help," said Bubbles.

Buttercup smiled at Bubbles and took her hand. "Come on, Bubbles, let's go home." She turned to Blossom, still smiling. "See you later, sis."

Blossom returned the smile as her sisters soared back home in a streak of blue and green, then hovered back into the observatory.

"This is astounding!" Mojo was saying to himself, pacing back and forth in the atrium. He seemed to be speaking to Blossom, but he wasn't looking at her. "Your sisters share a bond similar to ours! Imagine how strong the four of us will be as a team!"

"What?" asked Blossom.

Mojo froze in his tracks and stared at Blossom. "Heh, heh… whoops."

"What's going on?" asked Blossom, her confusion accentuated by her growing anger. It felt that Mojo was hiding something from her—but he couldn't anymore! She knew his every thought—just as he knew hers!

"Sometimes I do slip up," sighed Mojo.

"Slip up on what?"

"I had long anticipated that one day you would finally relent and come to me, and thus you would learn of our connection, and so I have long been practicing on keeping some of my own thoughts from cropping up in my own mind, so as to be able to keep some things hidden from you as well."

Silence.

"It's harder than it sounds!" said Mojo, smiling in a sort of embarrassed manner.

"You… you've been keeping secrets from me all day?" Blossom finally shrieked.

"Hush, all in good time, my dear!" said Mojo quickly, still uncharacteristically smiling nervously. "I did not intend to keep secrets from you for long… I just needed the right time to explain certain things to you, so that—"

"What things?" Blossom was having to hold herself back from socking Mojo right then and there—she could feel that he was nervous and hiding something, but she couldn't figure out what!

"Calm down, calm down!" Mojo made a downward motion with his hands to shush her, but both the tone of his voice and his smile were growing in confidence. "I intended to relate my master plan to you after you were finished with the evilness training, but you have been progressing so rapidly that I may as well—"

"Evilness training? I didn't come here to become evil, Mojo! I came here to learn new things, that's all!"

"And new things to you would be the teachings of evil!" cried Mojo dramatically, spreading his arms wide in the air. "Don't you see, Blossom? Together the two of us could easily take over the world! But I would need your help in dealing with your sisters. You must either convince them to join our side—or assist me in destroying them! Although, with their physical powers, I hope that you choose the former—"

BAM!

Blossom's punch, as usual, sent Mojo flying, but this time it nearly knocked Blossom out as well. She stumbled backwards from the pain that she had unintentionally brought upon herself, but still managed to glare at an equally pained Mojo. "I'm not on your side," she hissed. "I am not going to help you take over the world, and I never will! And I will never turn on my sisters!"

Mojo slowly climbed to his feet, glaring, his anger even stronger than Blossom's. So strong, in fact, that he was unable to hide any thoughts from Blossom any longer—and those hidden thoughts hit Blossom almost like a ton of bricks.

He was far more brilliant than Blossom had ever realized…

…and he was…

"You're psychotic," whispered Blossom fearfully.

She took a terrified step back as she attempted to sort through all the new emotions she was receiving, but her fear only grew the more she finally understood what was truly going through Mojo's mind—and what he had been doing all along.

"You were—you were—you were leading me along!" Blossom stuttered. "You catered to me, you made love to me, you taught me, just so I'd do whatever you want me to! But I won't!" Blossom's voice growled hoarsely with rage. "I won't."

"How dare you speak to Mojo Jojo in such a manner!" roared Mojo. "After all I've done for you!" In an instant he was in her face and roughly grabbing her shoulders. Blossom instinctively jerked up her knee, hitting Mojo squarely in the crotch.

Mojo squeaked out in pain and dropped Blossom, but Blossom was too hurt to appreciate her victory. Oh… so that's what getting hit in the balls felt like.

"This is ridiculous," Blossom gasped. "I can't fight you."

Mojo said nothing and thought nothing in words, he simply stared at Blossom, seething with rage. Finally, one fleeting thought passed through their minds—

How DARE she destroy my dreams?

"Your dreams?" Blossom exploded. "All you can think about is taking over the world? What about what you've done to me? You just wanted to use me to get what you wanted!"

"You always have gotten whatever you wanted, while I sat here and got nothing! You owe me, Blossom!"

"Bubbles and Buttercup were right," said Blossom. "I should go home."

Mojo's rage overtook him again. With sudden, unexpected force, he pinned Blossom to the floor. "This is your home now!" he cried. "This is your abode, your place of dwelling, your residence, and where you rest your feet, for you are mine!"

"I'm not yours!" screamed Blossom.

"Oh yes you are," said Mojo darkly, his eyes narrowing in a slightly more composed manner—in a rather alluring manner, truthfully.

"That's not going to work," hissed Blossom. "You're not going to seduce me again. You're certifiably insane, Mojo. You think I'm your property because I've been living here for all of four days, and you explode at me when I suggest leaving. You're insane and I'm not staying here any longer."

"You foolish girl," said Mojo. "Despite all that, you still love me."

"If it weren't for my perfect memory, I wouldn't still love you!" snapped Blossom.

"And if it weren't for the fact I have known your thoughts for the past six years, I would have never loved you in the first place!" Mojo shot back.

"Stop lying," hissed Blossom.

Mojo smiled that smile again. "I will when you will."

Blossom yelled in rage, although this time her rage was directed at none other than herself. "What the hell is happening to me?"

Mojo let go of Blossom. "I'd say that you're in love, but that is obvious…"

"Why did this have to happen to me?" Blossom whimpered. "Oh, dammit, I'm going emo again…" She looked at Mojo helplessly. "I need a break from you, Mojo…"

Mojo snorted. "As if that will ever happen—with our mental connection, along with the desire you still have to be with me and understand me—"

"Oh, it will happen," said Blossom firmly.

Realizing what Blossom was planning on trying, Mojo laughed rudely. "You actually think that you can block me out of your mind? Just because I can hide some of my thoughts from you does not mean that you will be able to put up a total barrier between our minds, for they are nearly one by now! Give up, Blossom, you will never escape me, and it is for this reason that I say that you are my—"

Mojo stopped. Gasped. Stared at Blossom, a mixture of impressed and enraged.

And Blossom smiled smugly, enjoying the relative silence of merely her own thoughts in her head.

"You—how—Blossom—STOP THIS NONSENSICAL NONSENSE RIGHT NOW!" Mojo erupted.

"Now that our heads are a little clearer, Mojo, I think we'd better have a talk, a reasonable talk where we don't know what the other is going to say before they say it," said Blossom, working hard to keep her emotions under control. Keeping her mind separate from Mojo's, she was quickly discovering, took a lot of concentrated effort—she had to focus on blocking him out from her, and vice versa. "I plan on staying here, Mojo, only as long as I feel safe—and if it weren't for my superpowers, I would have been out of here before you even thought about hurting me. As you reminded me the other day, I am your guest, and thus I am under no obligation to stay. Are you with me so far?"

Mojo nodded dumbly.

"In the future, it would be wise to remember that I have superpowers, and you don't," Blossom continued firmly. "And yes, I am aware that you are strong, and that you have on occasion overpowered me, but those were the exceptions, not the rule." She took a deep breath before continuing on. "Next, I should make it quite clear that, no matter how much I may have changed during my short time with you, I will never partake in any of your evil schemes. Learn about them, yes. But should you attempt to return to your super-villain days, I will not assist you, and in fact, I will try to stop you. I'm still a Powerpuff Girl. I still have my morals. I'm still a separate being from you, Mojo. I'm not your property. I'm not your lackey. Don't think that just because I love you I'll do anything you ask, because I won't. Got it?"

She got no answer. Mojo just stared at her, with an unreadable expression.

"Answer me, Mojo."

"Yes," Mojo finally said, in a bitter, defeated tone. "I 'get it'."

"Now…" Blossom gulped, knowing that this would be hard to get out, "seeing as I do plan on staying with you for at least a little longer, I would like for our further interactions to go a little smoother than they have been. For one thing, both of us should stop blaming each other and competing with each other over who has it worse. Let's face it, we're both royally messed up and we've both hurt each other on so many occasions that keeping tally by now is pretty pointless. Besides…" She sighed. "I know you still love me. Maybe we should focus on our love for each other, rather than our hatred. Goodness knows that the hatred has made up most of our contact for these past ten years."

"I wish…" Mojo's voice drifted off, almost lazily, before he continued. "I wish you were different and not so marvelous… I wish I didn't love you."

"I wish I didn't love you either," sighed Blossom. "And I wish I could forget things. And there are days I wish I didn't have superpowers. And there are days, like today, where I wish I was dead."

"That will come soon enough," murmured Mojo.

"I… I need some time alone," said Blossom.

Mojo stared at her. "What, are you asking my permission? Go ahead. It is obvious I cannot control you anymore," he said darkly.

Blossom turned around and floated to the guest room—now very much her room—feeling Mojo watching her the entire time. However, for the first time that day, she didn't know exactly what he was thinking as he watched her leave.

Although, by now she felt that she could pretty well guess on her own.