Blossom went back to school the next day, doing her best to avoid all the questioning glares and whispered rumors of where she'd been. Despite her request to the contrary, Buttercup would shoot death-glares at anyone who gave Blossom an odd look… and especially to those who whispered underneath their breath that Blossom had been with some guy.
The rumors quickly progressed into some abusive guy. It, of course, wasn't all that odd to see the Powerpuff Girls sporting black eyes, but no one could deny how slowly Blossom moved through the hallways, as if every motion she made pained her.
"Granny," they'd sneer at her. Blossom made no eye contact. She didn't speak at all in school anymore, and rarely at home. She seemed to spend all her time in her room, writing down… something. Plans for bettering society, apparently. When she was forced to leave her room, meal times for example, she'd keep her eyes averted from her family, as if she was too ashamed to even be in the same house as them.
Buttercup, then, had been surprised when Blossom accepted Bubbles's offer to play Scrabble one night about a week after her return. Surprised, but also, of course, a bit relieved. Perhaps she would finally be able to slip back into a normal life—well, as normal as a Powerpuff Girl's life could be.
It had been awhile since the girls had played Scrabble… and Bubbles soon remembered why.
"This isn't fair," she pouted. They were nearly finished with their game, and Blossom had a commanding lead, followed by the Professor—who had agreed to play with them—then Buttercup, and finally Bubbles.
"Somebody's got to get the bad tiles," smirked Buttercup.
"But I've gotten the Z and the Q—and now I just drew the X!" cried Bubbles. "I can't make words with these!"
"Sure you can," said Blossom. "There's loads of—"
"Not everyone's memorized the Scrabble dictionary like you have, Blossom!" screeched Bubbles.
Blossom smiled smugly. When she had been ten years old, she had read through the entire Scrabble dictionary, which gave her an almost unfair advantage over her sisters.
"Bubbles, don't fight with your sister," said the Professor sternly. "It's your turn, Buttercup."
Buttercup sighed in annoyance. "I know, I know," she muttered. Her seven tiles—S, U, E, E, E, J, and W—were leaving few options for her, especially on the rather crowded board. Sure, she could throw an E after a B or M… but that gave her diddly-squat for points.
"Here, I've got one," she said, smiling maliciously. She added tiles to the beginning of the word "SELF" that the Professor had played a couple of turns ago. "There. 'JESUSELF'. That's an elf with the qualities of Jesus."
"Take it off—there's no such word!" Bubbles cried.
"Oh, I think there is, isn't there?" said Buttercup, winking to Blossom. "Back me up here, sis."
Blossom grinned, playing along. "Yeah, she's right, Bubbles," she said slowly. "It is definitely a word. In fact, some of my best friends are Jesuselves."
"Blossom! Stop it! Professor!" wailed Bubbles.
The Professor just chuckled wearily. "It was bound to happen eventually." Utonium family Scrabble matches always seemed to end in a free-for-all in which the players just threw their remaining tiles on the board, trying to come up with the most outrageous word.
And Bubbles was not about to break that tradition. "Well, if you get to make up words, then so do I!" She added an E and an X to Buttercup's "JESUSELF". "There—'EXJESUSELF'! That's someone who used to be a Jesuself but isn't anymore!"
"No can do," said Buttercup, shaking her head seriously. "Once a Jesuself, always a Jesuself. There's no such thing as an 'ex-Jesuself'. Play a real word, seriously."
"I will when you will!" snapped Bubbles.
"Let me see your tiles," said Buttercup, flying behind Bubbles's shoulder.
"Stop! These are my tiles—go back to your own seat!"
"Ooh, Bubbles, just add this T on to your 'ex-Jesuself' and you'll get 'Tex-Jesuself'! That's a Jesuself who lives in Texas, and that's a word! Right, Blossom?"
"Uh… yeah…" Blossom's voice sounded pained.
"What's the matter, sweetie?" the Professor asked.
"It's nothing," said Blossom, gasping a bit.
"It sounds like a pretty painful 'nothing'," said Buttercup, the laugh in her voice gone.
"My chest hurts, that's all," moaned Blossom. "It's been hurting all… week…"
"Where does it hurt?" the Professor asked. "I might have something to—"
"No—I'll be fine—I just need to go lay down for a minute." Blossom sat up from her chair, but slowly, and wincing in pain, just like…
Buttercup suddenly realized exactly what it was like. It was like watching old ladies try to move around. Slowly. Painfully.
"Are you sure?" asked the Professor, getting up from his chair as well.
"Heck no," snapped Buttercup.
"No—I'm fine!" Blossom floated up to her room, but at a snails pace, as if even flying hurt her.
"What should we do?" Bubbles whispered, when they heard their bedroom door shut.
"We go and find out what's wrong with her," snapped Buttercup, "that's what."
"Find out exactly what in her chest is hurting her," said the Professor, his eyes full of worry. "I have a few things for heartburn, but if it's her lungs that are hurting and not her heart, I'll have to get her something else…"
"We'll figure it out," assured Buttercup.
O.o.O
"It hurts everywhere, Buttercup—I feel like I'm ninety years old!"
Blossom was laying face-up on her bed, staring at the ceiling, clutching a stuffed rabbit to her chest fiercely. Her breathing was slow and labored, and her eyes were wide with fear.
"Why would you be hurting like this?" Buttercup demanded. "You haven't really done anything to hurt yourself—"
"I've kept my mind closed from Mojo this whole week," Blossom said softly. "I was hoping that I wouldn't be able to feel his pain if I did that. But I think I am. I think… I think we might be dying."
"No," whispered Bubbles, shaking her head in denial. "You can't die yet. You just can't."
"What you can't do is jump to conclusions," said Buttercup firmly. "Maybe you should communicate with Mojo telepathically again, just to find out what's happening to you. Because maybe it only is your pain. Maybe it has nothing to do with Mojo at all. He couldn't fade that fast in just a week!"
"Unless…" Bubbles whispered.
"Unless what?" Blossom asked.
"You never said, Blossom… and you don't have to answer this if you don't want to, but… does Mojo love you?"
"What the fuck does that have to do with anything?" snapped Buttercup.
"Because… Blossom might be feeling his broken heart."
Blossom gasped. "Oh, Bubbles… it's my fault! It's always my fault! I've killed us both! He does love me, and—and I'm killing him!"
"Calm down, calm down!" cried Buttercup. "That's just an idea—it's not necessarily true!"
Blossom felt her eyes welling with tears again. She moved an arm to wipe them away, but too quickly—her arm flopped back to her side uselessly, too pained to do anything else. "I think it is true," she whispered hoarsely. "I'm killing him, and I'm killing myself too…"
She could do what Buttercup had suggested—she could reconnect with Mojo—but no, she wasn't going to give in to that! She was going to keep her thoughts private like they should be—who cared if she and Mojo should have been one and the same person—when you got right down to it, they simply weren't, and—but if she really was going to die—away from him—their last meeting—that kiss—oh God, that kiss—
"I don't even know why I still love him," she murmured aloud.
Buttercup coughed, a bit uncomfortably. "Well… no one ever has really understood love, from what I've gathered. Why should you? Despite the fact that you're a freaking genius and all…"
"I think I know why you still love him," Bubbles interrupted.
Buttercup and Blossom stared at their sister. And why would THAT be, Miss Lonelyhearts? Buttercup demanded silently.
"It's the same reason why I… um, why I kinda like Brick, and why I still kinda like him… even though he's beat me up so much, and even when he made me eat that cockroach when I was six." Bubbles shuddered. "I know how terrible he is, and that he's a violent jerk, but… that's what's missing from me. Everything that makes Buttercup different from me is what I don't have… and so, when I see that in a cute guy…" Her voice faltered. "Never mind. I'm not making any sense."
"Yes you are," Blossom said, her eyes wide with shock. "I love Mojo because… he's the missing part of me… and that's also why he loves me… despite how much we irritate each other…"
"Whoa, wait a minute," said Buttercup. "Does this mean I'm going to fall in love with a happy, prissy little thing? Ugh!"
"Blossom," said Bubbles gently, getting back to the matter at hand, "tell us where your chest hurts, so the Professor can get you something for it."
"I already told you—it hurts everywhere. If he has anything to give to someone suffering from the aches and pains from old age, that's what I need. But, really, don't bother… soon, all my pain will be gone."
"Shut the hell up," snapped Buttercup. "You're not going to die of a broken heart—a broken heart that isn't even yours. That kind of thing only happens in cheesy romance novels. Get sick from the stress it brings, maybe. But it won't kill you. Especially not with proper treatment!"
"Which we'll get right now," said Bubbles. "The Professor will know what to do."
"That's right," said Buttercup reassuringly. "He'll know what to do. Stay here, we'll bring him up to you." She and Bubbles zipped out of the room.
Blossom felt tears well up in her eyes once again, although this time they were not for her. They were for her sisters.
How could she tell them that, even if she wasn't going to die right just then…
…that she was slowly being killed anyway?
O.o.O
The next day, Blossom insisted on going to school, despite the Professor's urges to stay home. She was still in pain, but she was determined to make up for her skipping school earlier—and try to make something useful out of what she was sure were her last days on Earth.
How she could accomplish this at school, however, she didn't know. It was… well, as irritatingly boring as it had ever been. She felt insulted by what her teachers were saying—as if she hadn't known these things for years! Did they think she was stupid or something?
Mojo was right—school was below her now.
No! She wasn't going to think about him anymore—despite the prolonged pain that wracked her body even when she did nothing, the pain that she knew was his.
Damn, she couldn't even open the stupid window.
Her teacher and all of the students in her class just stared at her dumbly, watching the leader of the Powerpuff Girls trying to force open the window, but hardly even moving it up at all. The sounds of a monster attack could be heard quite clearly, and the Powerpuff Girls had permission to leave class and save the day, of course, if such an attack could be heard. Usually they'd pry open the window and zip on out of the classroom, since everyone in Townsville had grown tired of having the girls crash in and out of ceilings.
Blossom finally gave up, gasping for breath. "I think… I think I'll just take the door," she said.
"I guess the abusive boyfriend knocked out all of her powers," a kid sneered under her breath as Blossom headed for the door.
Something snapped in Blossom when she heard that.
With one swift motion, she spun around and fired her eyebeams on the offending student, full-blast. The unfortunate girl screamed.
"Blossom!" cried the teacher, aghast.
Blossom was equally horrified at what she'd done. "I, uh… I've gotta go save the day!" she stammered, running out of the room as fast as her pained body would let her.
I shouldn't be in school, she bemoaned to herself as she managed to take to the air once outside. I hurt her. I'm hurting everyone I know. She glared fiercely at the monster—your typical huge, Godzilla-type creature, destroying everything in its path. But I'll make it right. I HAVE to make it right.
CRASH!
"Dammit!"
Buttercup picked herself up from the wreckage and wiped blood away from a slash on her arm. Giving a battle cry, she zoomed back, straight for the monster.
"Buttercup, wait!" cried Blossom. "You need a plan before just flying in there and—"
"Blossom?" Buttercup stopped in midair and gave her sister a stern look. "What the hell are you doing here? You're in no condition to be fighting a monster!"
"I have to!" cried Blossom. "It's my duty as a crimefighter! Now—now give me some time to come up with a plan, and—"
"RWOAAAAAAR!"
"We don't have time for a plan!" cried Buttercup, as the monster charged its way towards them.
"Where's Bubbles?" asked Blossom.
"I don't know—I haven't seen her since—"
The monster was nearly at them. "No time! We'll have to work without her! Double dive-'n-dunk!"
The girls zipped off milliseconds before the monster's foot came crashing down on them and took to the sky, doing an impressive dive in the air and dipping back, straight for the monster's head.
BAM!
"Oh, crap," cried Buttercup. There should have been two punches to the monster's face, not just one. She had moved too fast—Blossom had fallen behind, and—
BAM! Blossom finally delivered her weak blow. The monster roared—she had angered it more than hurt it. "We need to hit him together," Blossom gasped to Buttercup. "On three—one, two—"
SWAT!
With one wave of its hand, the monster knocked Blossom and Buttercup out of the air. They both fell to the ground with a hollow crash.
Buttercup stood up quickly. "Dammit! What now, Blossom?"
Blossom heard her, but in a sort of far-away, unclear way, as if Buttercup's voice was a recording that someone had turned the volume down on. She tried to stand, but she couldn't. She couldn't move at all. Her vision was blurred. But she couldn't feel any pain, either.
Oh, God, no.
"Blossom? Blossom? Are you alright?" cried Buttercup, panicky.
"Blossom?" asked a new voice—a sweet, gentle, sing-song voice.
"Bubbles—" Blossom gasped, thanking her lucky stars that Bubbles was finally here— "Bubbles, you and Buttercup—do the double… the double d-d…"
"Double dive-'n-dunk!" Buttercup finished hoarsely. Far away. She sounded so far away. Oh God, why couldn't she feel anything? "Come on, Bubbles!" Buttercup and Bubbles flew off. Maybe. Everything was so detached… was she even still in her body? Was she even still alive?
She thought she heard a pow. From far away. And then a crash. A crash that sounded like a monster falling. Did they…
The monster, was it…
Oh God, she hadn't done anything… she loused it up again…
God, she couldn't move…
"Blossom!" Buttercup and Bubbles were at Blossom's side, pulling her up.
"Did you… did you defeat the…"
"Yeah, we got him—are you alright?" Buttercup said. "We didn't get hit that hard. Come on. You'll be okay."
"Hold onto me… I'm going to fall…" Blossom murmured. She could hardly hear herself. Everything was so soft…
"No… Blossom!" Bubbles cried, her eyes wide. Blossom would have cried if she hadn't forced out every tear in her body during the past weak. Poor Bubbles… she knew, didn't she…
"We'll get you to a hospital," said Buttercup, her eyes narrowing fiercely. Poor Buttercup. She was beginning to realize too… but she was in denial, of course… always denial for Buttercup…
"No," Blossom gasped out. "No… not the hospital… take me to Mojo's, please… I need to… apologize… face to face…"
"We don't have time for—" Buttercup began, but then stopped suddenly.
There was silence. Blossom looked up in fear. Did her hearing finally completely fail her? Was she dead already?
"Alright," Buttercup finally said. She grabbed one of Blossom's arms, while Bubbles grabbed the other, and carried her into the sky.
Oh, right. Blossom felt like giggling. Silly of her to forget. Forget! Her mind really was failing her. Bubbles and Buttercup had telepathy! Hee hee. Telepathy. Like what she had with Mojo. Yeah, that's right. She'd be hearing Mojo's thoughts too, if she weren't still holding up that barrier. It was tough. Damn. It was tough. But she was going to keep her mind her own, just for a little longer, so she could talk to him without him knowing what she was planning on saying before she said it. Because oh, was that annoying. So annoying. So annoying…
"Alright, we're at Mojo's…" said Buttercup.
Blossom tried to look around. Already? When had they crashed through the ceiling? Did they at all? How did they…
"Where is he?" she asked.
"We'll find him," assured Bubbles.
"And then we'll take you to a hospital," said Buttercup. "And you'll get better."
"Why doesn't it hurt?" Blossom murmured. "It's hurt all week. But not anymore. Bubbles, Buttercup, why don't I hurt anymore?"
"That's… that's a good sign," stammered Buttercup, as she and Bubbles flew Blossom in through the various rooms of Mojo's observatory.
"It's not as bad as I thought it would be," Blossom murmured. "Dying. It doesn't hurt. It's nice. All my pain's gone now."
"You're not dying," snapped Buttercup. "You're gonna be—"
She stopped and gasped at the sight before her. So did Bubbles. And Blossom finally felt a stab of pain again, although this time it was emotional pain.
Mojo was huddled in a corner of his kitchen, looking just as lifeless as Blossom must have. However, he was able to look at the Powerpuff Girls, and he surprisingly was able to pull himself into a standing position.
"I had a feeling… which is to say, a hunch… that you would be coming…"
"But, how did you… our thoughts… they're not…"
"I saw the monster attacking," said Mojo wearily. "And when I felt… this… I assumed and made an assumption that you had been hit… and knowing you as well as I do… I knew you'd come to apologize, ask for my forgiveness, and state that you are sorry."
"Put me down," Blossom whispered to her sisters. Numbly, they did, setting her down in front of Mojo. Unable to get up past her knees, Blossom scooted closer to him. Their faces were nearly at the same level.
She was absolutely certain now that she was dying. Dying—wasn't one's life supposed to flash before one's eyes? Blossom remembered everything—it should have happened—but there were only certain memories that were flashing before her as she gazed into Mojo's eyes.
She could remember screaming, she and her sisters terrified of the gang about to hurt them… and suddenly being rescued by a mysterious stranger.
She remembered a day at the zoo, a woman's harsh words, but a trusted friend's reassuring, "All of you, deafen yourselves to their heartless words. They do not know it is their saviors they are speaking to. They are unaware that your actions will have helped change the world forever… Because we have helped the town and made it a better place."
She remembered his words to her, later, alone: "Of course I accepted you, Blossom. For we are very alike in our mutations, more alike than you know. No one else understands us, and for this reason I have taken you and your sisters in. Only together can we show Townsville what the four of us are really made of!"
Where was the betrayal? Blossom knew it had happened, but her mind wasn't replaying that.
All it was replaying was the care of the past few weeks. The loving touches. The kiss, God, the kiss, although nothing of what led up to it.
He wouldn't be dying—neither of them would be dying—if she had listened to Buttercup and hadn't tried to fight that monster. If she had listened to the Professor and just stayed home from school that day. If she had listened to Mojo and never left him at all.
How many times could this be all her fault?
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
And, without anything holding her back, she pulled him towards her in a gentle, tender kiss.
She didn't hear Bubbles's slight gasp or Buttercup's mild disgust. She hardly even felt her hands on his face, or his arms wrapped around her shoulders as he returned the kiss.
All she could think was, oh, didn't it figure.
Her first—her last—her only true, all-encompassing, tender, romantic kiss. The moment that all girls dream of, whether they'll admit it or not. It would be one of her last actions. It was only now. And only with him. Of course. Couldn't have been anyone else.
He pulled his face away from hers, almost reluctantly. "You know, Blossom," he said, with great effort, "I always thought that I would get such great pleasure out of your death. Unfortunately… this pleasure of which I speak is not currently forthcoming."
"Things didn't go the way either of us planned, it seems," murmured Blossom.
"But, I think… I think I know how I may be able to remedy said situation," said Mojo.
With a sudden, swift motion, he pulled a butcher knife from behind him and plunged it into Blossom's heart.
Blossom probably cried out. Probably. Probably. She didn't know. She lost her grip on her mind, right then, suddenly in Mojo's again for a few brief seconds. She knew all. She understood all. Of course he'd do that. He was Mojo up until the very end—that desire to destroy the Powerpuff Girls had never left him at all.
Mojo dropped the knife and held a hand to his own chest. And pulled his hand away—his white glove was stained with red.
Why?
Did it matter anymore?
I hate you, I hate you, I understand but I hate you, these words fluttered through both their minds, both unable to discern whose thoughts they were.
Probably didn't matter anymore anyway.
Probably didn't…
Probably…
It was only when they both fell dead on the floor that Bubbles began to scream.