Hey y'all!

Super fast update, I know! I couldn't wait!

Back to Blossom's POV for a bit. This chapter, like the last one, is a bit of a fun break from the intensity of the last few chapters. But it's not all fluff and sunshine.

Thanks for all the interest in the last chapter, here's chapter nine!

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, settings, or properties from The Powerpuff Girls, Craig McCracken owns them.

Sorry for errors!


Chapter Nine

-Blossom's POV-

"Buttercup! Would you get off of your lazy ass and help us with this?" I shouted through the kitchen archway in the direction of my green eyed sister.

Buttercup was sitting in the living room. I didn't even have to look again to know that she was still lounging lazily with one leg over the back of the couch and watching the annual Thanksgiving parade on TV as she played with her phone.

She responded, "Do you want a burnt Thanksgiving dinner? Do you want the entire kitchen to get destroyed in my clumsy, sad attempts to help you and Bubbles cook?" She paused, listening for any kind of response from me. Then she said, satisfied, "Didn't think so."

I huffed, putting the rolls into the oven, the heat from inside of it washing over my face. It was the last thing that needed to be cooked; the turkey was already done to perfection, along with the stuffing, cranberry sauce, and vegetables. Closing the oven door, I stood up again. "You could at least set the dining room table," I called out to her flatly.

I heard her snort. "Yeah, Pinky. I'll get right on that," she said.

I exchanged a tired look with Bubbles, and she shrugged her shoulders, rolling her eyes.

It was Thanksgiving Day, and instead of all of us preparing the dinner with Professor like we did every year, it was just Bubbles and I cooking this year. Professor had come upstairs that morning, having spent the entire night in the lab—it didn't even seem like he had slept at all. He'd apologized, saying he didn't know if he could help us cook this year, but he promised that he would be back up to have dinner with us. He disappeared back downstairs after that, locking himself in.

It was perfectly understandable, and it's not that Bubbles and I really minded that much, it was just a ton of work. Work that would have been alleviated by our third sister helping us out, no doubt, but we'd already gotten most of the meal done already anyway.

"I'm so tired," I said to Bubbles, leaning up against the counter.

She hopped up and levitated onto the counter, sitting on the edge of it with her legs hanging down. She really did look tired too. She looked naturally pretty, as she always did in the mornings with no makeup on. But her tiredness showed in her heavily eyelids and in the way her short hair had begun to fall out of the tiny ponytail she'd put it in earlier, sticking out in disarray around her head. "Same here. I'm almost too tired to eat," she joked. She reached down to brush off some flour she'd spilled on her pajama pants. After a sigh, she looked over at me. "Are the boys still coming for dinner?"

I nodded. "They are, Brick told me they'd be here around three." I checked my phone. Almost 12. We'd been cooking and baking nonstop since early morning. I stretched my arms, feeling some tension in them release, and said, "Next Thanksgiving, I vote we order Chinese takeout instead. Zero stress." Bubbles giggled in agreement.

We wandered into the living room for a little while, watching the end of the parade with Buttercup, then after it was over, we dragged her off the couch to make her help us decorate the table. The rolls finished baking, and we took them out of the oven and put them next to all of the other finished dishes, putting them in a bowl and spreading aluminum foil over the top of it like we'd done with the other food.

By the time that was done, we only had an hour and a half left to make ourselves look presentable, so all three of us flew up to our old bedrooms to get ready. After some hard work, my hair was pretty and wavy, my makeup was done, and my favorite hot pink sweater dress looked great with my whole ensemble. Bubbles' light blue turtleneck and miniskirt looked cute and comfortable, and I appreciated Buttercup's attempt at dressing up with her oversize dark green sweater and skinny black pants.

The house was quiet as we made final preparations, and shortly after three, the doorbell rang.

Bubbles went to answer it, greeting who was on the other side cheerfully, and in came all three of our boyfriends from the cold air outside. The three of them were dressed for the weather, in hats and scarves and coats, looking like three male models from a winter photospread in a magazine.

Brick, in particular, was wearing a black knit hat with flaps, his red hair sticking out from underneath it in that way that makes guys look so attractive effortlessly, and with it he wore his long, burgundy red coat, the one I'd bought for him last winter as a present. It made butterflies rise up in my stomach, the way I always felt when he wore what I bought for him. I walked over to hug him, and he pulled me into his bundled up arms.

"Missed you," I whispered into his black scarf.

He leaned down slightly. "Missed you, too." He whispered back, kissing the top of my head. As he shifted, I caught the scent of his cologne, and the butterflies stirred again. As we hugged, Bubbles and Boomer hugged and kissed sweetly while Butch tackled Buttercup on the couch, making her laugh and playfully shove him. After a few more moments, Brick pulled away from our hug, glancing around. "Hey, where's Professor?"

A simultaneous sigh came from my sisters and I at the same time. "Same place he's been for all of this week," Buttercup muttered.

"The lab," Bubbles said tiredly. She took Boomer's coat, then made her way over to take Butch's coat. "He rarely even comes back up for air." She came over to Brick just as he was shrugging off his coat, and he handed it to her. She went to the front closet to hang them all up.

I shot my sisters a scolding look. "You guys, come on. Don't be that way. He's been working really hard on this research. It's really important not just for him, but for all of us, too. Give him a break."

Buttercup still looked bothered, but she conceded, saying, "He could at least come up here and get a plate of food."

I nodded. She was right, it was about time to eat anyway. "Well then, let's see if he's ready." I walked over to the basement door, knocking hard. "Professor! Are you ready to eat?" I listened hard. No response. I knocked again. "Professor, the boys are here, we're all hungry. Come upstairs!" Even though I easily could hear through the door without even straining to, I pressed my ear up against it. I heard him moving around, but there was still no response. I turned, looking at the others with a perplexed expression. "He's not answering," I said.

Buttercup stomped over, shoving me out of the way. "Just let me do it, maybe he can't hear you. You know how humans can be." She pounded on the door with her fist hard, so hard that I was afraid it might come off of its hinges. She yelled, "Professor! Hey! We haven't eaten all day, we're starving up here! Are you gonna join us, or what?" She pounded on the door again, even harder, causing the entire doorway to shake.

I stopped her hand with mine, wincing. "Easy, Buttercup. You're gonna break the door."

We listened. We could hear his feet pacing around as if he was nervous, but still no answer. Buttercup dropped her hand out of mine, giving me a look of disbelief. "What is with him? Why isn't he answering us?"

There was a long pause. Then I broke the silence. "Let's wait a little longer. Maybe he just has to get something important done first." I stopped, paced out of the kitchen and walked over to where in the living room we had pulled out board and card games earlier, just in case we'd wanted to play them later. Now seemed as good of a time as ever. I picked up the first box I saw, turning to the rest of them. "We could play Life Race while we wait."

After a moment of consideration from the rest of them, we sat on the floor in a circle and set up the board game in the middle of all of us.

We did the usual preparations—choosing which car we wanted, which order we would take turns in, passing out stacks of multicolored faux money—and then the game started.

I took the lead in the beginning, which was convenient, considering I was the one to start each round of turns. Boomer was right at my heels, though, and Buttercup right after that. Brick was dead last, which visibly infuriated him more than a board game probably should.

Bubbles moved her light blue car—which had one lone pink person figure in it—up five more spaces, coming up right behind Buttercup's light green car. She read the space she had landed on out loud. "'You fall in love. Add one significant other to your car.'" She smirked and looked sideways at Boomer, who was grinning at her widely. "I wonder what his name is?" She teased.

"Let's hope to God it's not Steven," Buttercup cut in, not missing a beat.

Something—maybe the dull, faded, remainder of the memory of my brief, first real boyfriend in high school—sank faintly inside of me. As everyone besides Brick laughed, though, I shook my head and grinned good naturedly. "Not funny, Buttercup." It had been years, but our ill-fated breakup still stung me a little if the memory twisted a certain way. But she shrugged, still laughing.

Boomer started his turn, spinning the wheel and landing on a 3. I gasped as he lapsed my lead by two spaces. "Hah!" He said at me, grinning. Then he leaned forward to read the space he'd landed on. "'You are fired from your job. Go back 3 spaces and withdraw a new career from the career deck.'" His face soured as he put his car back exactly where it had been, and we laughed at him this time. He picked up a new card from the stack of career cards—now he was a mechanic.

"No fair," Butch protested. "I should've gotten that one."

Buttercup went next, ending up in the exact space I had my car in, the '1 Lifepoint' space. Then Butch went, landing on the 'You get a pay raise! Take 50,000 dollars.' spot and moving right behind Boomer's car. Then it was my turn again. I spun the wheel, landed on a 6—"Nice!" I'd said—and triumphantly moved my car forward on the colorful road.

I leaned forward to read the space I'd landed on. Before I read it out loud, my eyes scanned over it quickly. 'Surprise pregnancy! Add 1 child to your car.' Completely unable to help my response, my face blanched.

Everyone was staring at me, none the wiser and waiting for me to read it aloud. "Well? What'd you get?" Bubbles prodded.

I swallowed hard, trying to push down my immediate unease and forcing a smile. "Uh, surprise pregnancy," I said, then I cleared my throat and reached for the tiny bag of people to add a 'child' to my car.

Everyone had chorused in 'ooh's.

"Oooh. Teen mom," Buttercup teased. "Blossom, I really thought you'd be a little more careful than that."

Butch laughed and joined in, joking, "Way to forget about the condom, Brick, you screw up."

My face was still drained, and I risked a glance over at Brick to see him beet red, though he was laughing. He took his shoe off, acting like he was going to throw it at his brother. "Shut up, dumbass." He said.

I put the little pink peg person inside of my car, staring down at it for a moment before looking away, watching as Butch and Brick continued to throw empty jabs at each other, making everyone else laugh. I hoped no one noticed my silence, or the strained smile on my face. That way I wouldn't have to bring up why that little space had bothered me so much. The word 'sterile' rung in my head over and over again like a phone that no one would pick up.

I cleared my throat, turning to Brick and saying in a voice that I hoped sounded casual, "Your turn, Brick."

The subject passed quickly, and I was relieved. He spun the wheel in the middle of the board and landed on a whopping 10. Since he had been struggling up until now to get a decent number, we all applauded him as he pretended to bow with a little flourish of his hand. "Thank you, thank you," he said. He moved his car up, bypassing all of our little cars with a giant satisfied smirk on his face. He stopped one space behind my car. "Uh oh, Bloss. I'm coming to take your number one spot."

Feeling a little more relaxed again after the earlier tense moment, I smiled at him and rolled my eyes. "Only in your wildest dreams."

He winked, then he leaned down to read the space. "'Sudden unforeseen medical emergency. Withdraw $10,000 dollars from your account for your hospital stay.' Oh, come on. What kind of crap is that?" He groaned, turning to his pile of fake money.

"Mmhmm," Boomer said, nodding in faux sympathy. "Sucks for you, dude."

"Not feeling so smug now, are we?" I asked.

Bubbles joined in too, obviously holding back her giggles, "Have a fast recovery."

Brick rolled his eyes, dryly slapping down his fake ten grand onto the board.

The game continued on, with debts created, more children gained, marriages had, houses bought, vacations spent, lotteries won, and retirement plans put into place. And during this interesting game of make believe life, I couldn't help thinking that it was maybe a little cruel.

Of course, it was just a stupid, entertaining game. Fake 'pregnancies' aside, there were plenty of these other things that I wondered how many people actually got to experience in real life. Of course there were the negatives that rarely anyone could escape from being affected by—the money problems, the medical problems, the tragedies—but what of the things that were deemed a requirement to have a worthy life?

What of those people that never got to have their own children? What of those people who never got married? What about the college dropouts? The terminally ill? What about the people who never even got to fall in love?

Did that make their lives less?

In the end, though, I pushed these intense thoughts away and forgot about them, chalking it up to the fatigue and extreme hunger.

After an hour and a half of playing, hunger had won out over the initial fun of the game, and we put the board game away. I would have won, I was pleased to realize. But we were all miserable with hunger by now, and waiting to eat no longer seemed like an option.

The basement remained quiet, with no footsteps coming up to the other side of the door. For a few tentative minutes, we all kept shooting glances at it, becoming less and less expectant as the clock ticked by. Nothing. It didn't seem like Professor would be coming after all.

"Maybe we should just eat without him," Bubbles said, a hesitant look on her face. She didn't look like she wanted to, but we all were pretty starving. I was relieved she had been the one to say it. One of us had to. "Maybe he'll come up later to eat. There'll still be lots of food left over."

So, after exchanging glances, all of us decided to finally sit down at the nicely set table and eat.

Brick carved the turkey like a pro, and we passed around the big dishes full of stuffing, cranberry sauce, vegetables and potatoes. We ate our disproportionately large plates of food and talked and joked, feeling warm and full and enjoying ourselves just like we had during the game.

Today in general, the atmosphere around us all felt light again for the first time in days. For a little bit of time, we forgot for a while about monsters and crazy reporters and that three circle emblem. For a little while during that Thanksgiving, everything was normal.

We didn't know it, but it would turn out to be the last time we would all be so happy for a long time.

Long after the pumpkin pie had been served, after the boys had left after hugs and kisses with stuffed bellies and some food in tupperware to keep with them at their dorm rooms, my sisters and I had crashed onto the couch, half watching a dog show on television and half waiting for any sign of life from the basement. The dog show ended, and some other show began to play, along with commercials for upcoming holiday specials.

At some point, we all nodded off. A couple of hours later, Professor finally emerged from the door, and we woke up.

We all sat up groggily as he walked into the room, slightly taken aback at the sudden sight of him.

"Hey, girls. Is it time to eat yet?" He looked strange—haggard, hair sticking out, full mad scientist appearance in effect. And his eyes were wild, as if he were paranoid about something unexpected jumping out at him that he had to be ready to fight off.

We looked at each other, frowning, then looked at him again. "Professor, we already ate hours ago," I said slowly. "We called you when it was ready, but you didn't answer us. Didn't you hear us calling you?"

He raked his hand through his wild hair, blinking hard. "Oh, no. I suppose I didn't." He looked over at the windows, squinting at them. He didn't have his glasses on. "What time is it?"

"Professor, it's 8:30." Bubbles was staring up at him in concern. "Don't you have a clock down there?"

"Of course I do," Professor said. "I guess I just uh…lost track of time, is all." He clapped his hands together. "Well, there's still food left, isn't there? It smelled really good."

I exchanged one more look with my sisters. How did he lose track of time so easily? And how did he not hear us shouting and pounding on the door earlier? I stood up from the couch groggily. "Of course, there's plenty left. Come make a plate, I'll reheat it for you."

I watched him pile food onto his plate, and then I put it in the microwave for him. Setting the time on the microwave and starting it, I turned away from it as it hummed, glancing over at Professor. He wasn't looking at me; instead he was looking at the floor, the walls, his hands, anywhere else. I studied him in silence.

Buttercup wandered into the kitchen, looking at Professor carefully. "You missed the parade, you know."

He looked up—his head jerked up, actually, like he was surprised, like he hadn't even heard her walk into the room. "Oh, that's right. I completely forgot about that, we always watch that together. How was it this year?"

"It was alright," Buttercup said flatly. Without moving her head, she shot me another look that said, 'What the heck is wrong with him today?'

Pressing my lips together, I broke her gaze, turning back towards the microwave and looking at the food rotating in a circle inside. There was one minute left on the timer.

"You still could have come up and watched it with me if you really wanted to," Buttercup continued mildly, and I turned back around to look at her again. She raised her eyebrows at him. "Even just for a few minutes."

"Buttercup," I said quietly. She shrugged at me.

"No, that's fair," Professor said to me, and then he turned to Buttercup with a mildly apologetic look. "You're right, Buttercup. I'm sorry I didn't. We'll definitely catch it together next year, I promise."

Her face softened up then, her mouth curving up at one corner. She unfolded her arms, saying, "Well. I'll be in the living room with Bubbles." And then she left the kitchen.

The microwave beeped, and I opened it up, taking out his plate of hot food. When I turned back around to hand it to him, he was leaning against the counter, his face downcast and staring down at his feet. My stomach lurched. My dad rarely ever looked that way. He looked…haunted? Maybe even sad. What reason did he have to be sad?

"Dad," I said, staring at him. "Are you okay?"

Professor's gaze jerked up again, snapping out of it. "Oh, yes! Of course, sweetheart. I'm fine. Just hungry, is all. I don't think I've eaten at all today." He looked downward, seeing that I was holding his food. "Oh, it's ready! Fantastic. This looks so good. You girls did a great job cooking without me. Thank you, sweetie!" He took the plate from my hands, an overly big smile on his face. It looked strained, somehow. Like he was hiding something.

Slowly, unsure, I smiled back. "You're welcome," I told him. "Let's go sit down."

Bubbles, Buttercup and I sat with him at the dining room table as he ate, and he went back and forth between talking about unrelated, random things, and being completely silent. When we asked him if he was all right, he would go back to chatting again, with that unnatural smile of his.

Something was wrong, but even I couldn't figure out what it was.

My sisters and I traded looks, saying nothing.


In case anyone was wondering: I know the game isn't called 'Life Race', HAH. I basically decided to give it an off brand type of name, since my version of the board game was modified slightly to fit my purposes for it in that scene. I love that game, though. Way more than Monopoly, which I personally despise. (Too boring for me, sorry.)

ANYWAY. So, as promised, there will be a third chapter posted this month. It'll be to make up for last month's absence, and also a bit of a holiday gift.

The wait for chapter 10 will be a little longer than the wait for this one was, but have no fear, it will most definitely be posted before December is over. I just want a little extra time to edit it, because...well. Let's just say the next chapter is going to be a doozy. And I don't mean length wise.

Some very important developments happen in chapter 10. Prepare yourselves. (Scared? Should be. Hahaha.)

Thanks for all of your continued support, I appreciate it guys!

-MsButterFingers