Talisman - An Epilogue

Talisman - An Epilogue

The world was warped and screaming.
She could make no sense of up nor down and everything had gone a sickly shade of grey-ish green. It was the colour of sickness. Decay. She floated, hanging as though drowning in a bottomless sea, as around her everything howled in chaotic turbulence. Only her sister remained by her side, weeping. Tears poured from her luminous azure eyes, her blonde hair normally kept in pigtails but by now loose and unkempt. Her own hair, dark and styled into bad-girl sweeps, blew about her face as a wind that came from everywhere at once swept upon her. All the while, voices called out. They cried in anguish. Shrieked in despair. Howled in loneliness. Screamed in indomitable fury. They sounded ghostly in this endless void. Buttercup wanted to clap her hands over her ears. It'd do no good, she knew already.

Blazing amongst the darkening gloom of the void was a bright emerald beacon, spiralling end over end upon a golden chain. Buttercup dashed forward, reaching out with her hand. The chain was wrapped around a neck but the body of the gem's bearer was in shadow. Only eyes shone through the silhouette; eyes the colour of bright green apples. Eyes that had seen so much in such a short time. Buttercup reached out but the distance between her and the fluttering brooch seemed endless. Then a second shadow swept upon the wayward young girl with the gemstone and blocked Buttercup's sight. The green Puff stopped in her tracks. One silhouette became two. Then they emerged from shadow together, hand in hand, staring her down.

"You already know how this ends." One, the taller with the gemstone, spoke above the cacophony.

"You are a hero, right?" said the other, letting go of her partner's hand to throw her hands behind her head and puff out her chest as she smirked. Her eyes were closed "I don't think you are."

Buttercup's fists clenched. Behind and to her left, Bubbles kept sobbing. Already she'd given in to the inevitable. But Buttercup wouldn't sway. Not even when she'd seen this happen already. She approached the girl, no bigger than herself, and seized her by the scruff of her  collar "I AM!" she yelled above the chaos of the churning, decimated city swept up in the void "I can prove it to you!"

The smaller girl with her eyes closed chuckled, still not bothering to meet the Powerpuff's gaze "Heroes save people."

Buttercup hissed through her teeth "I... I can... I was..." she trailed off, clenching her own eyes shut to ward off a sudden sting behind them.

That was when the smaller girl's eyes opened, blazing a fiery ruby that lit her face and her auburn, shoulder-length locks "You couldn't even save one of us."

Buttercup's grasp failed her and her arms fell in the light of the radiant red glare. Her fists trembled by her side. It had gone quiet. Even Bubbles had decided to shut up for a moment."I only wanted to save one of you." she admitted, the stinging behind her eyes growing worse.

The taller, blonde girl put her hands on her hips and leaned forward, her golden necklace dancing around in front of her "And kill the bad guy. Wait, who's the bad guy?"

"I saved her first, don't forget."

"So it's me? Your sister's new bestie?"

"Who would it have been?"

"Would you go back and make things different if you could?"

"If you wanted to 'save' her, you'd have to kill me first!"

"If you even tried to kill her, I may never have forgiven you!"

Buttercup suppressed a cry of frustration. She HAD tried to kill her. Several times. But she kept coming back. Even here, after dropping a tower on her head, Blood had returned. She still had the hole in her shirt where Buttercup's green lance of light had gone through. She was something altogether different. Buttercup couldn't truly want to kill something so... so unique. And driven. She didn't know what she felt about that. But toward the girl herself, with those compelling red eyes, she felt... she almost... felt...

"You're dealing with things you don't understand, Green Hero."

"Isn't it better to leave it as it was?"

"You win, you lose."

Buttercup grit her teeth, "Shut up..."

Sora, the taller girl, threw her head back defiantly "Maybe you were going to kill me and save her! Is that it?"

The shorter girl, wearing tattered and battle-damaged denim dungarees and a shirt that, once a vibrant orange, was now stained and scarred to a dirty brown, interjected "Do you remember what you told me? How you said 'yes'?"

"What would your sisters think? What would the WORLD think?"

"You wanted to join me - you said so! You didn't lie to me, did you?"

"Would you have killed your sister's new best friend in cold blood just to be a 'hero'?"

"Shut. Up." Buttercup breathed, feeling her knuckles going numb.

"You're a fraud, Buttercup!" Sora spat "And it's not the first time you've failed in your duties." She reached for Blood's hand again.

Blood reached out as well, "How're your lungs, Buttercup? Go on, take a deeeep breath!"

"Would your choice be better than what you allowed to happen?"

"True heroes act; they don't sit around and wait."

Sora's eyes glinted the same way her brooch did. Her hand joined with Blood's and from their fingertips upwards, discolouration began to spread "So, how 'heroic' would it be if you'd killed me!?"

The skin of Blood's arm was turning a mottled, greenish, dead shade. And it was spreading. The light from Sora's brooch shone ever brighter "How evil would you have become if you'd SAVED me!?"

Both girls turned to each other and began to embrace. Pressed between their chests, the brooch shone a light brighter than a star. Buttercup felt something press against her back like a great, compressing weight. She couldn't turn away from the sight before her as both girls began to decay in front of her as they stared into each others' eyes.

"You can't change this." Sora told her, flatly.

"You couldn't save either of us." Blood added.

Sora clasped the floating pendant in front of her and with one swift motion, snapped the necklace off her neck. She held the burning garnet in her dessicated, skeletal hand. She turned to Buttercup and grinned. Her lips tightened and split as she smiled, her teeth suddenly rotten and grey and dislodged. Her angelic apple eyes faded into a cloudy whiteness before shrivelling into her ragged skull "You could have stopped this."

Blood's head tilted at a sudden, unnatural angle as her mouth broke into a corpse's screaming smile "Better this... than let your family know the truth... about who you wanted to save.... right?" She began to laugh. Cackle. She raised her arm to point and laugh but it fell out of the sleeve of her shirt and tumbled into the abyss.

Buttercup was shaking "No..." but their combined laughter as their bodies rotted before her and the void turned and even ghastlier shade still drowned her out "No! I can change this!" She lunged for them, a jagged streak of green erupting behind her. It lasted all of an instant as a sudden discomfort ran through her leg. Something had hit her or grabbed her. She looked down at herself.

A girder beam hung awkwardly out of her calf muscle, her blood oozing down her leg and turning her white sock beet-red. Bubbles had grabbed her ankle. Her skin, too, was a dead shade of grey. Her eyes were empty sockets. Her straw-blonde hair was patchy, white, ancient. Her mouth opened, her jaw snapping off its tendons and hanging loose as she gurgled "What if I died here too!?"

Suddenly the world beneath Buttercup opened; a sickening black pit. This wasn't how she remembered it. Another jolt to her body; a stiff strike on her back like a playful yet forceful kick. Two more clawlike hands reached up from the growing black abyss beneath her. The two ragdoll zombies who held each other in an embrace continued to laugh at her helplessless. Bubbles' now needle-sharp, overgrown fingernails cut into her skin. The creature emerged from the pit beneath, screaming in fury and vengeance and brandishing a hateful glare from a pair of quite alive black eyes. Long black hair billowed behind it, its paler-than-pale skin too opaque to be truly human. Then it seized her around the misection, hissing a hot, stale, metallic breath in her face as the pair of dead girls cackled like Shakespearean witches. Its black and white dress billowed in the stormy gales. The creature's fingers turned into solid black spikes and with a single thrust it impaled Buttercup through the midsection. Buttercup gasped a cry of pain as the creature moved in close, pressing its china-doll nose to her own. And it whispered in a voice Buttercup had never, ever forgotten.

"Think on your failures, Powerpuff!"

Then she ripped her clawed hand out again and black, inky, tar-like ooze exploded from her stomach. Buttercup couldn't breathe as the Void began to suffocate her, the blackness swept over her like a flood and all four onlookers laughed. And laughed.

And laughed.


Buttercup's eyes flew open as she jerked awake, sucking in a deep and merciful breath of warm night air. Shivers racked her body from head to toe in spite of the mid-year heat. Each lungful was a blessing. Her heart pounded in her chest and as she continued to catch her breath from the receding nightmare, the urge to cough grew greater and greater. Her ravaged lungs burned in her chest and seemed to beg her to stop. But she wouldn't. Not until her pulse settled and she assured herself that this place - her room, her house, her reality - was real and no longer some twisted dream.

Cold sweat dripped from her forehead past her dark eyebrows, stinging her eyes. She wiped them furiously as she stared at the wall and the three large, round windows facing front. The front of their house and the streetlights below gave a reassuring sense of familiarity. There was nothing familiar about the horrid images that shocked her awake. "That's not what happened..." she muttered to herself, lying on her side, the fitted sheet of her large bed damp from the sweat rolling off her body. Cold sweat. Unpleasant. "That's not what happened." she told herself again. One last breath. Deep. Steady. Then she let it out. No coughing. Good.

It had been a little over a day. It was her first night back in her own bed - the one she shared with her two sisters. She thought rest would come easier. She'd gotten off fairly lightly, she thought. Not like those two girls from her dream. True, there were no nightmare visuals or faces melting. And that third one, at the end, with the raven-black hair and long bladelike fingers... where the hell did SHE come from!? She definitely wasn't part of what actually happened. "Old imagination getting the better of you again, huh?" she mumbled forlornly. Her hand clasped the softness of the fitted sheet, the same colour as her eyes, and she grit her teeth. She knew it hadn't actually turned out that way. But what happened was still horrible.

That void. The big sphere above their hometown. It had grown and grown, swallowing buildings and cars and even people. Endlessly reduced them into something microscopic, neither powder nor dust but fuel for the expanding horror. Sora, at its heart, driven half-mad by grief. Bubbles reaching out to her when she had found them both. Buttercup had thought it futile but Bubbles was always determined to do the impossible. Buttercup found herself biting her lower lip so hard that she thought she might draw blood from it. Didn't matter. A little pain never bothered her, nor a bruise here or there. Her leg had fared worse. Her teeth would at the very least leave marks. She'd been nasty to Sora. Never trusting or accepting. She was always wary of strangers getting too close to her sisters. Wouldn't be the first time something went wrong once they did. But the way Sora had looked at her after what she'd gone through and how Bubbles just seemed to crack once she got close, feeding off Sora's misery like an accidental parasite... she was glad she didn't have empathic power that day.

Then, of course, like a bad penny SHE turned up. The fourth girl in the equation. The one with the ruby-red eyes and the presence like none Buttercup had ever experienced before. Blood, she called herself. A true match. Buttercup had fought her. Beat her. Gone further than she'd ever gone with an opponent just to best her and yet she'd returned. Again. And unlike Bubbles' childish words, when Blood spoke she seemed to resonate. And again she spoke to Sora. She spoke to all of them. And for some reason Buttercup was again entranced, just like before. When she'd said 'yes'. Again, she bit her lip.

She had said 'yes'.

And then that was when Sora, stuck between two girls pleading their own cases of reason, made her choice. She turned to Blood, and then to Bubbles, and then finally she-

WHUMP

Buttercup let out an involuntary grunt as something caught her in the lower back with a dull whack. She'd felt it before. In the dream. Like someone knocking on a heavy panel of wood. Just above the waistband of her nightshorts on her skin, slick from a light film of sweat. Dead-centre. Buttercup wondered if it was just her imagination playing tri-

WHUMP

Buttercup rolled onto her back and sat up, ready to lash out with impatient words. But then she saw what was hitting her and the words never came.

The sight of her sister, Blossom, turned whatever angry statement she had to make into pure silence. She stared down at her sprawled form, washed over by a sudden surge of pity and exasperation. This was no position for Blossom, the leader of the trio, to be found in. Luckily, despite her fitful fidgeting, she was asleep. She lay on her back, arms sprawled sideways and her right leg cocked at an odd angle, twitching every time her head lolled back and forth - hence the kicking. Her nightdress, strawberry-pink, was twisted and bunched around her body. She'd been at this a good while, it seemed. A light film of sweat clung to her pasty skin, which was discoloured and pale in places. Her lips were ever so slightly parted but besides the occasional moan of what could be either protest or fear, she didn't make a sound from them. Her eyes spun dizzyingly behind her eyelids. Whatever Dexter had dosed her up with was pulling a real number. Buttercup rubbed her forehead as the recollection of the past day and a half came back.

Blossom had suffered the worst of it. She'd stood up to Blood and handily lost. Buttercup had seen her wounds, her busted arm and tattered outfit and the bruises all over her body. She had trouble shaking the notion that fearless leaders still bled. It was something she struggled to come to terms with. So she'd stepped in to take Blossom's place in the fight. And won. Multiple times. But Blood kept coming back, right up until the end. Buttercup's anger at Sora turning herself upon Blood and whisking them both away - without the zombie faces or ghost of a gynoid past, thankfully - had not been helped by the tongue lashing she and Bubbles received when returning to the presence of the field co-ordinator. He was a big, stocky bossyboots who called himself 'Davroe'. And boy, did he let them have it.

Or at least, he did right up until Blossom did the one thing that brought a smile to Buttercup's face at the end of that miserable day. Tired of his rigmarole of rants against super-beings and children and them in general, her battered body mustered enough force to leap into the air and bury the heel of her shoe into Davroe's cheek at high speed whilst every subordinate in the room watched like sheep. The last Buttercup had seen of Davroe as Tabitha Piper, the police officer in the room, escorted them out of the building was his mountainous form prone and motionless, drooling onto the hardwood. The day hadn't been total ass after all.

Tabitha had given them a home for the night. Blossom, in all sorts of pain, was comforted by the presence of little Cindy, Tabitha's daughter. Cindy was several years younger than them. Buttercup remembered a young boy she'd seen in the subway tunnels during the citywide evacuation. Now here was another. She wasn't the littlest anymore. Children, young and impressionable, were beginning to look up to her and her sisters. And she couldn't help but find it unsettling. Still, Cindy was a ray of sunshine at the end of that stupid event. It was further lifted by Ms Piper announcing she planned to put in a transfer to Megaville's police department, having had enough of Townsville's bureaucracy. Blossom was smiling again. Even Buttercup had managed a grin or two. But Bubbles retreated to her own corner of the living room, holding the remnant of Sora's pendant that had been salvaged before she and her friend blinked away and out of existence.

Buttercup looked beyond her restlessly sleeping sister. The blue stripe on the far side of the bed was unoccupied. Bubbles was nowhere to be seen. Blossom again twitched and turned, her bunched-up nightdress doing her no favours in its present state. Buttercup averted her eyes with a sigh. That was one of several reasons she'd given the nightdress up. It was a warm night anyway. If she had her own room (her constant insistence to the Professor so far fruitless) she could wear whatever the hell she wanted.  Buttercup chose the loungeroom at the Pipers' Bubbles lay on a fold-out in Cindy's room whilst Blossom had, after washing as much of the muck and blood off herself as possible, somehow scored an invite to sleep alongside little Cindy herself. Blossom was always the idolised one, even if she was beaten to a pulp. Buttercup had not voiced her grumbles aloud.

Coming back to Megaville was hell. Not the journey, the aftermath. Dexter, who had whisked them back in his fancypants matter transporter doohicky had thrown an absolute fit when he saw Blossom's bandaged arm and her closing wounds. Blossom tried to calm him and pass it off as 'nothing' but he would hear none of it. He took a moment out of fussing over his ginger-haired obsession to go over Buttercup's hurt leg with some strange aerosol that sealed the skin afresh but left the discolouration that remained there even now. Then he went right back to fussing over Blossom again like a good little house husband. Buttercup felt like she didn't even exist past that point. Bubbles, unscathed altogether, kept clutching that dirty brooch in her hand. She said nothing. Did nothing. Dexter didn't seem to register her. Buttercup wondered if he had a spray to prevent headaches before they happened. Nope, too late.

And then, the Professor arrived. Seatbelts.

The first thing the Professor did was throw himself upon them, swearing he'd never let them out of his sight again. This was, of course, typical Adric Utonium: over-reaction to the girls' involvement in a crisis. There was nothing he could do about it. They had powers, he did not. When was the last time he took on the role of PowerProf? When she spoke to him by phone not long after arriving in Townsville, she had no idea he'd be so hysterical the next time they got to talk. His big strong arms wrapped her and her sisters up in a giant embrace as he whispered through barely-contained sobs that he didn't want his babies to put themselves in danger like that again. Buttercup and Blossom begrudgingly muttered "Yes Professor", both knowing there'd again come a time where they'd endanger themselves again. Bubbles said nothing. It was around that point that Buttercup realised that since Sora vanished and left her the keepsake she wouldn't let go of, Bubbles had not said a word at all. Odd, considering how often shutting her mouth was tougher than the bad guy themselves.

Both man-genius and boy-genius were happy to have them home. And now Buttercup was pleased to be in her own bed once again. They weren't in trouble. Weren't grounded. Ms Piper told the Professor that his triplet daughters had been the most courteous and considerate houseguests she had ever had. They'd go back to school again as though nothing had even happened. Sora wasn't a student there. Come to think of it, nobody else really knew who she was. On a better day, Bubbles would introduce her to her circle of friends and, despite only just getting to know her, tell them all about what a great friend Sora is.

Was.

"Damn..." Buttercup sighed through clenched teeth. Blossom rolled onto her side again, her leg twitching and her toes punting Buttercup in the thigh. Grumbling, she shuffled sidewards until she was almost falling off the edge. Own bed was fine and all but she hadn't been expecting, well... this. The loose sheet they'd been sleeping under was kicked to the foot of the bed. Despite the night's reasonable warmth, a cool breeze was blowing across Buttercup's bare midriff. She wondered what it would take to get some sleep with Blossom thrashing about and the nightmares just around the cor-

The door to the room swung open. Light poured in from the hallway. A silhouette entered the room. Buttercup did the first thing that came to mind - she lay flat on her back and sucked in a surprised breath. She held it. Blossom kicked her again. She still held it. It was Bubbles, alright - she could hear the telltale dragging of her feet across the carpet which herself and Blossom had long left behind. But the bed didn't subtly sag on the far side as would be normal when Bubbles took her place. Instead, Buttercup heard the large chest of drawers on the door-side of the room trundle on its rollers. She sat up slightly.

There was Bubbles, resplendent in her own nightdress that wasn't bunched up and twisted. In one hand was her stuffed purple octopus toy, its top-hat askew and one of its arms in need of a re-stitch from too much old fashioned love. In her other hand was clasped a clear glass of water, its outer surface sprinkled with droplets. She stood at the open drawer, which was just below chest-height. No clothes were kept in that one anymore, Buttercup knew. She sat up all the way and watched as Bubbles placed the glass of water down upon the countertop of the drawers and reached inside.

Then she pulled out the brooch between her fingers and stared at it in silence. Buttercup wanted to say something. Anything. But she heard a faint sob, followed by a strangled sniffle. Blossom continued to roll about, oblivious. Buttercup swung her legs off her side of the bed and stood. Rubbing her forehead, she sighed and approached her sister. Better now than never.

"Bubbles, look, I-"

Bubbles' reaction was sudden and sharp. She yelped and covered her mouth in one fluid motion, her straw-blonde hair seeming to stand on end for a fraction of a second in almost comic alarm. Octi dropped to the floor with a muted 'whud' sound and Bubbles juggled the brooch in between her hands as she fought to keep grasp of it. She snapped her hands together and caught the wayward gem, her eyes wide and startled as they stared into Buttercup's and her breath caught in her throat. Her cheeks were wet but no sound escaped her throat. By the look on her face, it was strangled shut. Buttercup had frozen mid-stride in response. She eased up. She folded her arms across her scant chest and tilted her head to the side. How do you follow THAT display? She wanted to say something smart. Cool. Reassuring. You can do it Buttercup, her thoughts exclaimed, you can do it for her.

"You feeling ok?" Aww, for the love of....

Bubbles' gaze hardened immediately. Her fist held the brooch so tightly that even in the darkness of their room Buttercup could see her sister's knuckles turning white. As if she suddenly forgot her sister was there, Bubbles turned back to the open drawer and stared down into it, apparently lost in some gloomy daydream. The sparkle of surprise in Bubbles' eyes drained away, replaced by something opaque and impassive. If Buttercup had the same empathic power she knew Bubbles had, she'd no doubt feel something very bitter rolling off of her sister right now. The air between them grew heavy and Buttercup needed to punctuate it with something. She'd led in terribly but it could still be salvaged, "Look, I know how things got real messed up, Bubbles, but you shouldn't blame yourse-"

The drawer slammed shut as Bubbles shoved it with a sudden anger Buttercup had in no way saeen coming"You say the dumbest things, you know that?"

She spoke. For the first time in well over a day, Buttercup heard Bubbles speak. And it was like dropping a dozen anvils on her head at once.

Behind them both, Blossom stirred and emitted a gargled moan. Whatever she was dreaming in her fitful, somewhat medicated state it wasn't pleasant. The chill was still racing down Buttercup's spine from Bubbles' unexpected outburst. She didn't want to have both her sisters on her hands and feeling aggressive. She said nothing about Bubbles' retort. Not yet. She put her finger to her mouth and pursed her lips. Bubbles' mouth twitched but she didn't look close to apologising. Buttercup noticed the light streaming into their room from the bottom of the door. Light. Warmth. Privacy. She gestured with her other hand that they should take whatever discussion they were about to have into the hallway. Bubbles didn't get it at first, still taking her time to cast her unappreciative glare upon her sister. But then she caught on. She glanced over her shoulder at the bedroom door, her rich blonde hair shimmying about her shoulders. Then in one hand, she clasped her glass of water. In the other she kept her fist tightly clenched around the item she retrieved from the drawer. Buttercup gestured that her sister go first. As Blossom gave another strangled grunt from behind them, Bubbles and Buttercup crossed the threshold and closed the door behind them.

The hallway was quiet. The light was familiar and reassuring. Buttercup didn't mind that she was wearing comparatively less than her sister in such an open space as this. This was their own home; all three of the girls could get by in much more or much less and the Professor nor each other would protest. The hallway represented security. Family. Buttercup finally felt she could breathe. She turned, placing her back to the wall opposite their bedroom near the railing that overlooked the living room and the front foyer beyond it. She almost found a moment to smile. But meeting Bubbles' icy stare again, the spreading of a grin faltered and died. Instead she gave a tired sigh. This had to happen, she supposed. Now, rather than later.

"Bubbles..." she began. Bubbles made no move to cut her off, to yell or to scream or to erupt into childishness. This was a Bubbles that Buttercup was not used to. A Bubbles who was hurt. Wronged. "I'm sorry. For all that happened. I... I wish there was a way we could change that."

Bubbles set her glass down on the small thatched table she stood beside, at the base of a large pottery vase that held vibrant, long-stemmed flowers in a neatly arranged bunch. A gift from Jaimie-Leon Gabriel, a workmate of the Professor's who taught botany and biology at UCMV. If Bubbles could only force a smile, she'd look very pretty in a photograph beside those flowers. But she didn't care about pretty today. In the light of the hallway, Buttercup could see dark semicircles under her sister's eyes. Her hair was messy, her skin a couple shades too pale. She placed her hands on her hips, her nightdress suddenly seeming a couple sizes too big for her. Azure cascaded around her to the floor. Only her feet poked out from under the white ruffles at the hem. She was dressed for a pleasant night's sleep. Both girls doubted either would get any.

Buttercup pressed on, "Sora, she... she was not in a good way. I don't wanna think... I don't know what she..." she stumbled. Again, she stumbled. Words of comfort were never her speciality. Another sigh. "I'm sorry, Bubbles."

Bubbles pierced her with her cerulean eyes. For a long moment, neither girl said anything. But then Bubbles' lips pulled back, her sparkling white teeth beneath glinting. The smile that came to her face wasn't one of happiness or relief. Buttercup saw a bitter sarcasm and exasperation take over her sister's face, "You're sorry?" she muttered, incredulous "You? About Sora?"

"Bubbles, please, I just-"

Bubbles took a step forward. A large step. A stomp. Neither girl was taller than the other but for perhaps the first time in her life, Buttercup felt towered over by the 'joy and laughter' of the group "That's disgusting." Bubbles hissed "You never liked her, Buttercup. From the moment you first met Sora at school, right up until we last saw her together, you never had ONE good thing to say to her!"

Buttercup threw her hands up, pleading reason "Bubbles, hey, keep it down! The Professor might-"

"The Professor's in his room! He was in the kitchen with me before I got my glass of water. Do you KNOW what he's going through, Buttercup!?"

Buttercup swallowed and felt her throat click "I... I never asked-"

"He was terrified, Buttercup. I know it cos I could FEEL it from him!" Her voice was shaking as she tried to keep it to a fitting volume. Her eyes shone but there were no tears "And he's upset! He still is! And not just because of us!"

"Not... just us?"

Bubbles' snarl widened. Buttercup had never seen her so worked up! "He barely knew her, Buttercup. BARELY! And he's still a mess because of what happened! He knew that you and I were in that big ball in the sky, too! And he thought he'd lost us. But we're here. And she isn't. And know what? That's NOT fair!"

Buttercup wished the wall behind her would suck her in and keep her there 'til Bubbles left.

Bubbles went on "What happened to Sora wasn't fair. I... I never got to tell her, Buttercup! I wanted to help. I thought I could! But then, she... she..." Bubbles looked down at her hand, which opened to reveal the brooch that Sora had torn off from around her neck. The segmented emerald face was dulled and cloudy. Its sparkle was gone. "She was my friend when she needed one, and I still couldn't do anything. But at least I was going to try." She looked back into Buttercup's eyes and the fire within her own was burning bright again "So don't tell me YOU are sorry."

Buttercup took a deep, rattling breath. Her lungs seemed to kick her ribcage in protest, but she held steady. Then she asked the one thing that had bugged her ever since that giant sphere in the sky collapsed in on itself, leaving her and her sister floating in mid-air, surrounded by emptiness and a trashed cityscape below. "Do you think she's really... you know... ?"

Bubbles closed her eyes, clasping her fingers around the brooch again. She was always so open, so expressive and yet she didn't seem to want to cry. Which made the sight of her standing there like that even sadder. "She took it off... she thought she had no other choice, so... she's gone."

"Blood too." Buttercup murmured without prior thought. Immediate regret slapped her in the face.

Bubbles' teeth flashed again "Blood!?" she hissed "That... that MONSTER that caused all this!?"

Buttercup shook her head, "Bubbles, Blood was the reason-"

"Blood! Was the REASON!" Bubbles shouted again. Any sadness the blonde girl felt was being drowned by this fury.

Buttercup shuffled on her heels, uneasily "Blood was trying to save her, just like we were."

Bubbles's head shook back and forth so violently her hair whipped her face "No no no, Blood CAUSED all that! Don't you know!? She took everything Sora had and she DESTROYED it! She promised Sora so much and betrayed her!"

"How do you know that?"

Bubbles seethed "If Blood... if Blood hadn't been around, then... then none of this-"

"You're right." Buttercup interjected, her voice flat. "None of this would have happened. Sora would have gone on being a puppet for some shady company using her as a weapon instead of letting her be free. She'd be stuck there, alone and worried. And you would have never met her or enjoyed your time together had Blood not been a part of all this."

Bubbles fell silent. But her eyes studied Buttercup intensely.

Buttercup looked at the floor and at Bubbles' feet, unable to meet her sister's eyes. They spooked her. But she continued on, "Blood wanted something different to us. And she might not have known the best way to get it. But... does that make her bad? All she wanted was a better life for them. And... for us too."

Bubbles' voice shook with each syllable "H-How do you know this?"

"She told me." Buttercup admitted. There was no point hiding it. During those several confrontations she had with Blood, many things were said. And she'd said a few things in return. She thought back to those encounters. About how they'd tried their damndest to destroy each other. Despite all that, she couldn't bring herself to hate that girl. They just... couldn't agree. She wasn't an enemy. A rival, perhaps, but... she couldn't help but... well...

Bubbles' voice dropped to a whisper "Oh my god..."

Buttercup looked up; saw that Bubbles' face had turned into a cloak of horror "What is it?"

"You... you and her, what did...?" she was shaking her head. Slowly, disbelievingly. She held out her hand which clasped the dulled brooch "Do you KNOW how many keepsakes are in that top drawer now, Buttercup!? From people we've lost!? Friends? FAMILY!?"

"Calm down!"

"No, Buttercup, you ANSWER ME!"

Buttercup set her jaw and after a pause, spoke her answer. "Four."

Bubbles' arm flopped to her side with a pathetic slap. "Yes." she breathed, unsteadily, "Four."

"I'm not the only one who digs through there, you know? There's four." She stepped forward, one tentative step "Bunny, our lost sister. Taken from us because we messed up but still able to share a happy life with us. We kept her clothing scrap." Another tiny step toward her trembling sister. "Breannin," She hadn't mentioned that name in a long time. Bubbles let out a low moan of anguish at the sound of it. "We saw what happened to her. We didn't help. We could have, or maybe we couldn't, but... she lived happily with us. I've always wanted a little sister, you know? Someone who can look up to me. We kept a photograph of her."

Bubbles wiped her eye, looking off to the side.

"Bell." Buttercup sighed,"Looking back now I could have tried a bit better to get to know her. She and Blossom were so close they were probably sisters in one life. Or bitter enemies in another. Who knows? But we'll never forget Bell. We've got her spare headband in that drawer. Which brings me to," she reached for Bubbles' hand and put her own around it. The brooch was safe within. "Sora."

Bubbles quivered slightly as Buttercup's hands made contact with hers. Air whistled through her nostrils and the tiniest blonde hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Something didn't feel right.

Still Buttercup continued, "We're not that different from her, you know? We fight for what we believe in. I guess the only difference is how we fight that fight." She opened up Bubbles' hand and looked down at the dull face of the garnet, "Would you really have been happier if you'd never met Sora and she was stuck somewhere, away from the world, nothing but someone's private weapon?" she could feel Bubbles' hands getting clammy. The colour was draining from her sister's face. Buttercup cursed herself inwardly; whatever she was saying it wasn't helping. So she kept trying "I was a bonehead, Bubbles. I really was. I miss her. I should have treated her better. If I could go back and say things, do things better, I would. I'd say I'm sorry."

Bubbles' azure eyes glimmered. Buttercup thought she was getting through. But her sister's cheeks were still pale, her lips barely parted in what was certainly nowhere near a smile.

"It's hard, ok? I mean, what she did here, and in Townsville... but even if it looked horrible, there were reasons for what happened and why she did those things. Right up until the end. So..." a shaky sigh left her lips. "But maybe... maybe there's a chance she's still out there somewhere. Maybe she made it... and she could come back. Heh... wishful thinking, right Bubbles?" Buttercup let go of Bubbles' hand, hoping she had summed up her point. But Bubbles' fingers latched onto her wrist with frightening grip. Bubbles pulled her closer as the intensity in her deep blue eyes spiked.

"Who are you talking about?" she asked, plain and direct.

"W-Wha?"

"That stuff you said, just now. About what she did. And why. I don't think you're talking about Sora!" her voice was beginning to rise again. Before Buttercup could speak her protest, Bubbles slammed her against the wall with a shove "Oh god, Buttercup, you think you can fool me!? You think I can't tell!?"

"What the hell are you-"

"This isn't about Sora, is it!?" Bubbles yelled, "It never was! You're not justifying Sora's actions or what happened at the end. You're talking about HER aren't you!"

"W-Wait just a-"

"You actually accept what she did? To Sora? To Blossom? To YOU!? And all those people she killed and made Sora kill!? I can't believe you could be fine with... with her..." her voice trailed off. Something tingled in the back of Buttercup's mind, as though feeling an itch she couldn't scratch. Something that didn't belong there. By the time she worked out what was going on, there was no way to salvage the argument with her sister "Oh my god... that's IT. You didn't just accept what she did..." Bubbles' voice was now a dangerous whisper "You ADMIRED it!"

Buttercup blinked as the arrow went right through her chest and pinned her to the wall. Her legs felt like iron. She couldn't look away from Bubbles' accusing glare. And the worst bit? It would be impossible to deny any of it.

"Bubbles... listen to me, ok? I-"

Bubbles moved too quick for Buttercup to react in time. In one motion Bubbles had spun around and quicker than the blink of Buttercup's apple-green eyes the glass of cold water was in Bubbles' hand. Then came the bitterly freezing splash. Right in her face. Buttercup gasped as icy-cold water collided with her face, ears, hair and neck. A wet outline splattered on the wall behind her. Bubbles was frozen in place, arm outstretched with the now-empty glass in hand. Her face was contorted in disgust. The only bit of her that moved was the rapid rise and fall of her chest. The look in her eyes... after all the years of Buttercup bullying, pranking and generally annoying the hell out of Bubbles... none of that could match the absolute seething fury etched upon the blonde girl's face.

"B-Bubbles..." Buttercup stammered, "wha...?"

Bubbles lowered her arm. The last drips of water fell to the floor under their bare feet. Her voice was steady and even colder than the water "You make me sick."

Something in the pit of Buttercup's stomach caved in, dropping through the floor, through the floor below that and landing in the basement. Bubbles was in her head - that emotion-sensing crap that she'd recently got the hang of. She couldn't hide anything from her sister when she got like this.

And it terrified her.

Bubbles was shaking "I should thank Blood. She revealed the kind of person you REALLY are, Buttercup. What kind of stuff did she put in your head, huh? What did she ask of you? And what did you say? Hm? Did you say yes? Whatever she promised you, did you say yes?" Bubbles spoke through clenched teeth "Then maybe it should have been you who blew herself up alongside Blood!"

"Oh my god..." Buttercup whispered. Bubbles was never, ever like this. Had she really messed up so bad?

"Are you a hero, Buttercup? You're not acting like one. Where's your star? Oh that's right, you LOST yours. Blossom and I take ours to school every day and we had them in Townsville. But you just lose things. Lose them, damage them, wreck them just 'cause you can. And you don't care. You NEVER care." she turned her back on Buttercup, heading for the door to their room. As her hand clasped the doorknob, she said over her shoulder "I've had enough, Buttercup. I don't wanna talk with you again tonight." Then she slipped into the room, leaving the door cracked open.

Buttercup's chest heaved up and down, goosebumps blemishing every inch of visible skin on her body. Her knees trembled slightly. If roles were reversed, Bubbles would be in tears. But she wasn't Bubbles. No tears. Only a rotten feeling that seemed to be spreading from her stomach outwards. And yet, for some reason, she didn't feel any different. She still missed her. She still wanted to say she was sorry and that it just wasn't gonna work out. One last time. With her. Happier times.

"Blood..." she murmured, tilting her head up toward the roof. Her fringe of black bangs shrouded her eyes, her hands trying to clutch the wallpaper and rip it off.

The door creaked open and Bubbles emerged. The brooch was gone from her hands, replaced by her trusty toy octopus. In her other hand she held a plain white pillow, one of the spares. She met Buttercup with one last look that showed there was no forgiveness to spare tonight "I'm gonna go sleep with the Professor. I don't think I can stay with you tonight, Buttercup. I just..." she sighed, her golden hair framing her pale and tired-looking face "I can't believe you, sometimes."

And with that, she stomped off. Her bare feet made muffled thuds on the carpet. Buttercup watched her drag her octopus and blanket with her until she reached the door at the far end of the upstairs hall. She didn't knock. She just turned the knob and went in, briefly illuminated by the light beyond like some descending angel. Then she was gone. Buttercup watched on in silence. A few minutes passed. Maybe as many as five. Bubbles didn't re-emerge. The Professor must have allowed her to stay after all. They were probably happy together, comforting each other, diminishing each others' woes. And Buttercup was here. Alone. Underdressed in a suddenly cold hallway. Her legs finally found the will to move again. She stumbled to the door to their room, her face still numb from the icy splash it had received, but drying around the two burning patches of red on her cheeks.

She didn't know how long it took to stagger to the door, but when she was finally aware of it, she was already back within her bedroom. It was dark and stuffy. The giant trio of round windows were lit with the faint glow of external streetlights, diminished by the electronic auto-tinting of the glass panes after dark. The whole room seemed dull and lifeless. Buttercup turned toward the bed, her head hurting. Then she saw why it wasn't going to work out tonight.

Blossom was sprawled across all three colours of the bedsheets, her nightdress still twisted and bunched around her. Her fitful night was ongoing. Buttercup averted her eyes, acutely aware of how her nightdress needed serious readjustment before modesty would be restored. Better herself than Dexter, she supposed, but she wouldn't bother. Her head pounded, Bubbles' serene, if mysterious empathic touch replaced by an uncomfortable pressure between her eardrums. Whatever it was that Blossom had been given to help her sleep, Buttercup wanted some. Even if it meant nightmares. Blossom let out a tiny gasp. Buttercup felt sorry for her. She felt sorry for both her sisters.

But for herself? She turned toward the giant floor-to-ceiling doors of their walk-in closet, their mirrored fronts reflecting her bedraggled body. She couldn't feel herself being sorry for herself. It just didn't seem right. Not now, anyway. Like Bubbles, she'd have to find somewhere else to sleep tonight. There would be more spare bedding in the closet. She approached the mirror, her body lit from various angles as she passed before the giant porthole windows. She reached out to slide the door aside.

Then she saw a tiny glint. She froze. It didn't reappear. Buttercup turned, unsure where it was. "Aw man..." she grumbled. She was feeling sick, sore and tired. She was seeing things. She turned back to the cupboard and advanced. Then it happened again.

Small but significant. Under the foot of the bed, visible only from the askew bedsheets thanks to Blossom's restless night. Something attached to the glint. It wasn't just a glint, but a star-shape. And the thing trailing off from it was green.

Buttercup turned back around and her soft pale lips parted in the tiniest of gasps, "No way..."

Moving the fastest she had all night, she was down on her hands and knees in an instant, reaching under the bed and taking the tiny object into her hand. Her grip slipped and she pushed the object further under the bed, so she reached in farther, her shorts-clad butt waggling in the air like a playful kitten's for a moment before she took firm hold of it. She clenched her fist too hard and a pointed edge dug into her skin. Wincing, she brought her arm out and stared down at what she held in her hand.

Where's your star? Oh, that's right, you LOST yours. The accusing words played over and over in her mind as she looked down at the long-lost memento. Awarded to her and her sisters for defeating the menace of Barasia, the unwanted guest in her nightmare. Colour-coded on the ribbon. A silken strip of white, black and, for her, resplendent green. Five points of chrome, thick yet light. And for her, a joke. A mockery. She'd done nothing to earn this star. Her sisters and their fallen friend Bell - THEY had beaten the menace. What had Buttercup done in all that?

Blown herself half to hell and possibly ruined her lungs for life. She never even fought Barasia.

Some hero.

Buttercup turned back to the mirror, looking between the star and her own reflection. There was another meaning to the star. One that her sisters - not even Blossom of all people- didn't seem too quick to catch on to. She thought it was obvious after the events at Townsville that whosoever holds a Star of Induction is forever an indentured servant of the government and its interests. The star gleamed in her hand. More like grunt. Puppet. Call-girl. Slave.

And most of all, expendable. Those miniguns atop the Sorceress machine that nearly shot her out of the sky - those toadies at the controls hadn't cared that she'd been given this trinket. And given the attitude of that Davroe idiot, nor did anyone else, really.

That's all it was. A cheap symbol of a superficial system. Yet Blossom and Bubbles clung to theirs like gold stars on their report cards. Buttercup let out a low growl, closing her hand around the star that for months had been missing, presumed lost. So this was what it had come to. Everything they dedicated their lives to, reduced to a pitiful farce played up for the public. And when those with powers go out of their way to not only set themselves free, but do the same for others, they're treated like inhuman monsters.

Which they all were already, in the eyes of some.

Buttercup dropped her hand to her side and without thinking she clenched her fists tight. Again a searing shot of pain surged through her hand as five steely points dug into the flesh of her palm. Her skin was too tough to break. She'd blunt the points of the star before it even broke through her first layer. But the pain was burning and steady. Her fringe covered her eyes again and her teeth were bared, gritting against the discomfort. But her mouth was turned into a tiny smile. Somehow, despite the pain, it still felt... good. Somehow.

She unclenched her hand, marks dug deep into it, discoloured and yellow and about to bruise in five places. Then with unexpected grace she whirled and flung the star from her hand, sending it skittering under the bed and bouncing up toward the backboard dead-centre, out of sight and in shadow. She couched down, involuntarily flexing the fingers on her aching hand. Felt good. How come it felt good?

There was no telltale glint, no silhouette. Nothing from this angle that gave away the star's presence. In a few days she'd forget all about it. It was thoroughly lost again.

And lost it would stay. Between the circumstances of her receiving it and what she believed it now stood for, Buttercup was happy to never set eyes on that wretched star of scrap metal again.

She flung the cupboard door open and pulled out a spare blanket and pillow. The only other decent sleeping spot, the Professor's bed, was taken. Bubbles wouldn't want her company tonight. And probably all this week. Shutting the door again, she held the fluffy white covers close and stared at herself in the mirror. It was like she was wrapped in an oversized towel and fresh from a hot bath. Her bangs again tried to obscure her face. Perhaps it was time to get them cut. Throwing a look over her shoulder, she watched Blossom again turn in her sleep, rolling from her right side to her left, her bare legs thrashing in some unspoken bad dream.

"Where's your voice in all this, huh?" Buttercup mumbled, knowing full well she'd get no answer from the brunette "You're our leader. So lead. I need you to lead... because..." she clutched the sheets tighter, remembering what she said to Blood the other day.

Yes.

She'd said yes.

Forcing that whole memory from her mind was harder than she'd hoped but by the time Buttercup had made it downstairs and sprawled onto the living room couch in front of their big TV, her mind had turned to her aching hand and head again. She threw the blanket over herself, looking up at the ceiling. Two days ago, a young girl with cascading blonde hair and sparkling apple-green eyes had slept on this bed. Now that girl was gone... all because she wanted a happier life and only found despair. Buttercup wondered how many other boys and girls out there wanted the same thing she did... and how long it'd be before someone else tried what Sora had.

And how long until someone else like Blood showed up to 'help'.

She got no answers that night. Nor did she get much sleep. But Buttercup spent the rest of the night hoping, wishing, praying that somehow, she was out there still.

Sora.

She wanted to apologise to Sora. Oh, how she wanted to make things different with Sora.

And if Blood was out there too... and if she came back?

The world would know of her return. And from what little she knew of Blood, she would make sure of it. That alone was certain enough. Buttercup felt the tiniest shiver down her spine on that warm night as she slipped away into what would only be a brief, yet blessed slumber.

END