Hi everyone! It's been a while, huh? With everything that's going on in the world, I finally found myself with some time to dedicate to this whopper of a chapter.

I was also really happy to see some new favorites and reviewers! Thank you guys, all of you are awesome and I hope you enjoy this rollercoaster of a horror story ;) Is it really a horror story though? Sometimes I find myself wondering... this story started out as me trying my hand at writing an apocalyptic scenario and then took on a life of its own, so half the time I have an idea for what I want to write, and half the time the story writes itself.

NOTE: *I hope all of you are safe and healthy, and I hope that this story doesn't trigger any anxiety. I promise that's not my intention in updating; I just figured you all have been waiting long enough for this chapter, so now that I have time to write, an update was definitely long overdue. Again, I hope this story doesn't upset anyone in light of current events, and if so, I apologize.*

.: 23 :.

Bubbles was not stupid.

Between Professor Utonium's lectures—both the ones about life and his geeking out over new scientific discoveries—and the generic stuff they learned at school, the Utonium girls were constantly exposed to all kinds of knowledge. Blossom was the smartest out of her sisters, with Buttercup being the runner-up, but Bubbles wasn't stupid by any means. Naive, maybe, but not stupid.

She awoke to find her goofy companion snoring quietly beside her. Soft tendrils of sunshine poured in all the way from the kitchen windows, filling the house with a hazy golden glow. They'd missed the break of dawn completely and slept in until early afternoon, meaning they'd wasted a lot of daylight. She knew she was partially to blame, thanks to last night's moment of terror, but as she slowly came to her senses, regardless of it being daytime, she realized something still wasn't quite right.

Boomer had claimed he was in the bathroom the whole time Bubbles had been looking for him, and supposedly he'd been in the one next to the kitchen. She'd yelled out his name loud enough to draw the attention of any infected that were nearby, so why hadn't he heard her? Why hadn't he answered her and just let her know he was in another room? Could it really be that she hadn't yelled as loudly as she'd thought? Was she truly losing her mind?

...Or were things not as they seemed with Boomer?

She glanced at the blond in question. Peace rested on his features and his chest rose and fell with each slow, steady breath. Bubbles didn't want to be suspicious of him, but last night was cause for suspicion. Boomer disappearing, the twigs snapping, him showing up at the last second; what had occurred was too weird to ignore.

When they'd arrived at this house, she didn't remember seeing a bathroom next to the kitchen, but in Boomer's defense, she'd been so exhausted that she'd focused solely on putting something in her stomach and then finding a place to fall asleep. The layout of the house hadn't been a concern in her mind—as long as it was safe and free of bloodthirsty creatures, that was good enough for her. Had she merely assumed there was only one bathroom? It wasn't exactly impossible for a house to have more than one bathroom; why would this place be an exception?

After a moment, Bubbles carefully stood and padded over towards the kitchen. She did spot a door slightly hidden next to a large cabinet and, upon opening it, found a half bathroom. So that part of Boomer's story checked out: there were, in fact, two bathrooms. What still didn't make sense, however, was the fact that Boomer hadn't heard her. The downstairs bathroom wasn't too far away from where they'd been sleeping and the door looked like it was terrible at muffling noises, so why would Boomer lie to her? Was it possible that he could be...?

Okay, no, that was not possible. Boomer couldn't be... There was NO way he'd gotten turned. When she'd asked if he had been bitten, he'd been willing to strip, for goodness' sake. He had nothing to hide, he wasn't acting different, he didn't look different...

But what if he is hiding something? a small part of her whispered, and although it was a part of her she didn't want to acknowledge, she couldn't ignore it. Something was up and she was going to get to the bottom of it.

As they walked through the woods, Boomer noticed Bubbles' distance right away. She was normally silent since she liked to keep an ear out for any strange sounds that might indicate infected, but today... Today her demeanor was off, and he wasn't sure why. She was even keeping a literal, slight distance from him as they continued their journey.

It all started when she'd nudged him awake and informed him that they'd slept in later than planned. He'd jumped up and gotten ready for the day, eager and chipper as always to resume their journey to safety. Bubbles, on the other hand, wasn't as hyped.

"You ready to rock 'n' roll?" he asked, a bright grin on his face. Bubbles tried to smile as well, but it looked forced.

"Sure."

Thinking maybe she was still upset over last night's events, he nudged her playfully. "C'mon, we're getting pretty close! Before you know it, we'll be safe and sound, and all of this will just be a memory. I heard the zone has all sorts of weapons and stuff. We can finally get some sleep without fear of something creeping up on us. Isn't that exciting? We won't have to worry about a repeat of last night."

Bubbles didn't smile and nod like he'd expected; instead, she simply looked at him, her pretty blue eyes roaming over his face searchingly. She didn't say anything for a few moments, and just when his own grin fell and he was about to ask what was wrong, she did nod.

"Hopefully not. Last night was weird," she replied softly. Boomer could only blink at her as she hefted her backpack onto her shoulders and began to head out the door. Whatever afternoon sunshine had greeted them when they'd woken up had disappeared in favor of overcast skies and an unusual coolness.

Boomer followed her outside. "Hey, what's the matter? Aren't you excited that we're getting closer to the zone?"

She kicked at a pebble, her shoe scuffing against the rough gravel of the driveway. "Of course I am. I'm just not feeling too well today is all."

He tilted his head to the side. Bubbles didn't strike him as the type to get sick easily, but then again, they'd been surviving on canned foods and (probably) stale boxed snacks. Maybe her stomach was starting to reject the stuff they'd been eating? Not everyone had a cast-iron stomach.

As if sensing that Boomer was wondering about what was specifically ailing her, Bubbles added, "I'm still tired from last night. I didn't sleep too well after that whole backyard incident."

"Oh." The blond scratched his head. "Want me to carry you? I mean, I'm not, like, super strong or anything so I don't think I'll be able to carry you the whole way, but if you want, I can give you a piggyback ride for a little while."

That earned him a genuine smile. "Thank you, but I'll be okay. Just don't be offended if I'm a little quiet today."

And true to her word, she was quiet, and while Boomer totally understood that she was tired, it was gnawing at him that she just wouldn't smile. He loved seeing her happy, she'd had such a spring in her step yesterday. Surely last night's moment of misunderstanding hadn't dampened her spirits?

Or worse: had he done something to irritate her? Was she secretly upset with him? Boomer knew he could be annoying. He knew when he was getting the silent treatment; he'd dealt with it often during his previous relationships. Whenever he'd do something that irritated his previous girlfriends, they'd ignore him, put him on mute, and would explode on him when he begged them to tell him what he did wrong. Would Bubbles do that to him? He didn't peg her as the type to be like that, but maybe he'd said or done something to really aggravate her.

He tried not to show his concern. They did, after all, have to keep moving if they wanted to stay ahead of his brothers, and if Bubbles was upset with him, he trusted that she would be honest with him on her own time. She wasn't a volatile person; she was mature and calm, and she handled everything with a level head even when she was scared. He was worried about her, but maybe he owed her some space. Everyone deserved a little thinking time, so maybe that's all she needed.

When they decided to take a late lunch break beneath a particularly large oak tree, Boomer set down his stuff and plopped down on a log they'd rolled over. Bubbles was beginning to open a bag of pretzels when he decided to speak up.

"Hey."

She barely glanced towards him, her expression unreadable. "Hey."

"What do you think the zone will be like?" he asked, trying to make conversation. Anything but silence. "I keep picturing it as, like, a cul-de-sac area, but maybe it's a city block."

"No idea," she replied, popping a few pretzels into her mouth. Boomer wasn't the most socially conscientious person in the world, but even he knew that stuffing food into one's mouth meant they didn't want to talk. Now granted, she could just be really hungry, but—okay, no. That was it. He couldn't take it anymore.

"Bubbles, are you upset with me?"

This time, Bubbles looked directly at him. She held up a finger to indicate she needed a moment to finish chewing and swallowing her food. After taking a generous sip of her water to wash it down, she asked, "Why would I be upset with you?"

"You've been really quiet today."

"I'm always quiet. And besides, I told you I'm kinda tired—I didn't get much sleep after hearing all those noises in the backyard."

"Okay, but like..." He sighed, trying to find the right words without sounding like a clingy jerk. "You're quiet-quiet, barely even talking to me. You aren't smiling either, and it's not a crime to not smile, I'm not saying you have to be happy all the time, I'm just trying to figure out if I did something to piss you off."

A thick silence fell over them. Bubbles placed the bag of pretzels down and fixed her full attention upon him.

"Boomer, I think we need to talk."

Uh oh. Hurt gathered in his stomach. He knew from past experiences that that phrase was never good. He'd done it, hadn't he? He'd done something to screw everything up, just like he always did. Nevertheless, he sat up a little straighter. "Uh... Okay. What do you want to talk about?"

The dread that had been sitting in the pit of her stomach all morning reached a crescendo. She wrung her hands, trying to figure out how she could possibly ask what she'd been pondering. Boomer watched her anxiously, wondering if she was going to tell him to take a hike after all this time. Not that he'd blame her, but it would still hurt him greatly. He didn't think he could take it if she sent him away, not after losing—

"Last night..." She heaved a breath and mustered up all the courage she had. "Did you really not hear me calling for you?"

At that, he blinked. "No, I don't remember hearing you. If I heard you call for me, you know I would've answered you or come running. You call, I come." After a minute, he made a face. "Ew, that sounds dirty. You know what I mean, though."

She didn't laugh; her lips didn't even quirk upwards in acknowledgement of his attempt to lighten the mood. For an unsettling few minutes, she simply stared at him, and Boomer shifted uncomfortably under her intense gaze. Her eyes were piercing today, not that they usually weren't, but today she seemed to be thinking deeply about something, and he had a hunch that "something" had to do with him. What had he done wrong?

"Okay," she said, finally. "Alright."

"Did you think I was lying?" he asked, hurt stabbing at him.

Bubbles shook her head no. "Last night really freaked me out. It's spooky to think that I called out for you and you didn't hear me. I'm not accusing you of ignoring me or anything, by the way; last night just feels like a nightmare come true, that I was alone in the dark with something lurking around outside."

"You weren't alone though," he reminded, slinging an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. "I'm here with you. You really think I'd let anything happen to you? We've come way too far and had too many close calls to let anything get to us that easily."

Worry continued to linger on her features and Boomer tilted her chin up so that she was looking at him.

"Hey. I promise, if I had heard you, you know I would've come running. I would never let anything hurt you, not while I'm around. Even if I got killed and turned into a ghost, I dunno, I'd pull some freaky poltergeist shit 'till they left you alone. You know I would."

Just like that, the sun came out again: her lips lifted into a tiny smile and the storm of worry left her gaze, which flooded him with relief. He loved her smile and he loved being the cause of said smile.

Bubbles' eyes searched his before she nodded slowly. "Okay. I believe you."

They didn't come to another house for two days, and during that time, nothing crazy happened. Boomer took watch during the nights, Bubbles sleeping lightly in the makeshift camp they'd made. He kept insisting he was fine to take watch, and anytime Bubbles tried to protest, he'd relent somewhat and allow her to relieve him of watch around four in the morning, giving him two hours to sleep. She didn't like that Boomer was pushing himself to the limit—how on earth could anyone function on only two hours of sleep per night?—but he seemed to be fine and she didn't want to cause an argument.

Neither of them spoke much; they spent both nights taking turns keeping watch and listening to the world around them. Sleeping under the stars would have been incredibly relaxing, but for Bubbles, it was nerve-wracking—they were completely exposed should an infected come poking around, but luckily, nothing bothered them over the course of both nights. They spoke in hushed whispers, careful to keep their voices low on the off-chance that something was lurking around the woods, but the world seemed to be safe for now.

They were getting closer and closer to the zone, and so far, they'd been incredibly lucky not to run into any infected. Actually, if Bubbles was being honest, it was perplexing that they hadn't stumbled upon any problems with infected considering how quickly Boomer had been hurrying them towards the zone. He'd made it seem like they would come kicking down the door any minute if they didn't move their butts, but not counting that one night where Bubbles had heard the twigs snapping, nothing seemed unusual. It was like they were the last two people on Earth.

"It should be right outside Farmsville," Boomer said, pointing to a mark on his map. They were taking a short sitting break right at the wood line, where they would finally exit the woods and enter suburbia. "We're making excellent time."

Bubbles took a generous sip of her water. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what's up?" He barely even looked up, his eyes following different pathways he'd scribbled out. It was comforting to know that Boomer had backup plans if their current route didn't quite work out.

"Don't you think it's weird that we haven't seen any infected?" Bubbles asked, capping her water bottle. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, but I have to wonder... They were literally tearing up our houses to find us, and yet out here, we haven't even seen one. Doesn't that seem odd to you?"

"Nah. They're probably sticking close to the city areas where lots of humans are probably hiding," he replied, finally folding up his map and stuffing it into his pocket. "They're mostly going after people, so they don't have any use for wildlife, and not a lot of people tend to live in secluded areas like the houses we've been encountering."

He had a valid point. Bubbles fiddled with the bottle label. "What about people then?"

"What do you mean?"

"We haven't seen any people out here in the woods, not at that big campsite and not in any of the houses we've stayed at. It's almost like everyone disappeared as soon as the infection hit."

Boomer pursed his lips in thought. "Huh... I don't know. Maybe they all fled to the evacuation zone we're headed to—after all, the one outside Farmsville is the closest one they could probably get to. Maybe they're all there."

Yet again, a valid point. Her questions momentarily satisfied, she hopped off of the tree stump she'd been sitting on to stand beside him. Boomer offered her his signature goofy grin and she couldn't help but smile in return as he took her hand into his.

"Shall we, m'lady?"

"We shall!"

As they stepped out of the woods and into the outskirts of Farmsville, sprawling acres of farmland greeted them. The city beyond the farms didn't look as cheerful as Townsville or polluted as Citysville; it resembled more of a town and it appeared to have its own vibe going on. Bubbles wondered what her father would say about this place. Had his previous visit here been pleasant? What had it been like to stay here? Were the people sweet and kind like Townsville, or were they rude and cold like the people of Citysville? Perhaps a bit of both?

"I'm surprised this place is located outside of Farmsville," Boomer remarked. He motioned towards the town area in the distance, which was empty as they'd expected, completely void of moving cars and people, but it still looked like the perfect place to create a safe-haven. From where they stood, they could see a fountain in the center of what was probably the town square. Rustic fences, wrought-iron street lamps, and worn cobblestone pathways. Farmsville gave off a homey, welcoming feeling, and it helped Bubbles and Boomer feel that much better about making the trek all the way out here.

They found a tiny cottage somewhere close to town. When they'd settled in for the night and they'd eaten a little bit, Bubbles stretched her arms above her head and sighed as she felt tension leave her muscles. After a cold shower in the bathroom, Boomer joined her in the living room while towel-drying his hair. He shook out his hair like a dog to make her laugh, and succeeded in doing so.

"I dunno about you, but I'm ready to face the night," he chirped. "Bring it on, freaks!"

"Let's not jinx ourselves," she replied with a chuckle. "And I am, too."

Boomer tilted his head to the side curiously. "You are?"

"Of course." Bubbles playfully nudged him. "Come on, you've been taking staying up all night, every night since you got back, you should take a break tonight! I'm not even tired; I'll keep an eye and ear out for us."

Boomer seemed to deflate slightly. "Really? Bubbles, that's sweet of you, but I don't mind taking watch. It makes me feel useful, you know?"

That was plausible. Boomer seemed to think himself a burden to everyone he knew, and she didn't want him to ever feel useless. Still, though, it didn't seem fair that she got to sleep while he was deprived of proper rest. "Aren't you tired, though? You've been staying up night after night, and trust me, two hours of sleep isn't nearly enough."

"No way, I'm totally fine! My bros and I used to pull all-nighters all the time, so I'm used to running on maybe an hour of sleep."

Bubbles frowned. "That's not healthy."

"Maybe not, but it works in our favor." Boomer leaned down to place a chaste kiss on her forehead. "Seriously, I don't mind staying up tonight."

"Listen, it would really make me feel better if I was able to stay up and listen," she insisted, taking his hand into her own. His skin was still cool and clammy from the cold shower, but it felt nice to hold hands with him. "You know how anxious I can be. Just for my own peace of mind, let me take watch tonight."

Boomer didn't look convinced. "Are you sure? I really don't mind. I kinda like the quiet of the night; reminds me of when I used to stay up late and kick back to lo-fi music."

"I'm sure. Besides, you should get a full night's sleep for once," she replied, kissing him, and that was that. He looked like he wanted to protest more, but he surrendered after she reinstated that it'd make her feel better. Truth be told, Bubbles had learned to love the nighttime as well; the quiet stillness helped her think a little more clearly. She'd never really understood why Blossom liked to stay up late doing schoolwork, but now it was starting to make sense: Blossom could probably concentrate better when the rest of the world had quieted down. Maybe when all this was over, when college was a thing again and Bubbles could resume attending classes, she'd take a page out of Blossom's book and start studying at night.

Boomer fell asleep soon after he'd made himself comfortable on the couch, Bubbles sitting in the recliner across from him. He didn't snore, but his breathing had evened out and his lips were slightly parted with each gentle breath he took. He looked peaceful as he slept and, judging from the slight dark circles under his eyes, he probably needed the rest despite his earlier protests that he was fine.

Time passed slowly. The darkness around them was not as terrifying as she would've thought months ago, when the world still made sense. If she was being honest, it was even a little comforting; there was always the adage that if something was outside, if she couldn't see it, it couldn't see her. A childish thought, sure, but it helped her feel better about sitting in the inky darkness that hung over the room.

One hour morphed into two, then three, and before she knew it, the clock that hung over the television indicated they were heading for two in the morning. Just a few more hours and then she'd wake Boomer, he'd take over watch, and then she could get some rest. The air felt normal and the usual creaks and groans of the house didn't bother her in the slightest. Nothing funny was going on and for once, Bubbles found herself enjoying being (sort of) alone in the dark.

Just when she thought things were going well, something shifted. Her eyelids grew so heavy that she had difficulty keeping them open. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, her eyelids growing heavier and heavier until she had to dig her nails into her arm to stay awake. She slapped at her face slightly, even contemplated going into the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face, but just as she was going to stand up, a wave of exhaustion overcame her. The edges of sleep cradled her mind, coaxing her to give in, and soon, her eyes fell shut and she slowly began to succumb.

Through her tired stupor, she could hear whispers along with scratching noises, like something was trying to get into the house. She tried to open her eyes but found the action impossible; she couldn't move at all. It was like she was experiencing some kind of sleep paralysis, and the only thing that could respond to her changing environment was her heart. It began to pound so loudly in her ears that it was difficult to hear anything other than her roaring, frantic pulse. Ice-cold fear rushed through her veins when the scratching noises stopped and, instead, she began to hear footsteps pad across the carpet. Bubbles tried to pinpoint where said footsteps were headed, but it was difficult to hear anything other than her racing heart. She wanted to open her eyes and see beyond the darkness of her mind, but her body felt heavy—everything felt heavy and slow, like she was underwater.

She wanted to call out to Boomer and see if he was still there. Was he hearing what she was hearing? Was something in the house with them, did he know that they could be in danger? What if... What if something happened to him? More ice-cold fear flooded her at the thought of something happening to Boomer. If she could just open her eyes and get up, she could try to protect him...

It felt like five minutes passed, and in those five minutes, the footsteps, whispers, and fear died down. Bubbles was floating in nothingness for a moment and then suddenly, someone was shaking her. Bubbles was finally able to open her eyes again and she realized Boomer was right in front of her, gently shaking her awake. He greeted her with his usual cheerfulness, but concern laced his features.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "You look tired."

"What happened?" she murmured. Her head felt hazy and thick, and a huge migraine was definitely developing. Despite this, Boomer smiled that boyish smile that usually sent her belly aflutter with warm fuzzies. This time, however, the only thing she could feel was dread sitting in the pit of her stomach. Something was wrong.

"You fell asleep, silly. What time did you conk out?"

"I... I don't know." Boomer moved so that Bubbles could sit up properly. She winced at the bright sunlight that poured in through the windows. "I thought I heard something last night."

Surprise colored his features. "Really? What did you hear?"

"Didn't..." God, why couldn't she think? It felt like a chore to form thoughts. "Didn't you hear it?"

"Hear what?" His hands were ghosting over her face, threatening to cup her chin and gently tilt her face up so he could meet her eyes. "Are you feeling okay?"

How could he not have heard the—

"I'm starting to worry about you," he continued. "This is the second time you heard stuff, plus you fell asleep while on watch. You've never fallen asleep on watch before."

"But I didn't fall asleep, honest," she protested weakly. "I was wide awake, and then—"

Boomer offered her a knowing look. "You do realize that this is why I insisted on staying up, right? I don't think you're used to pulling all-nighters. You probably nodded off without even realizing it."

Why isn't he listening to me? "No, Boomer, I swear I was fine, but then... I don't remember. I know I heard footsteps and stuff, they were right by my head! How did you not hear it?"

"Footsteps?" At her nod, he shrugged. "I dunno, I didn't hear anything. You don't look so good... Maybe we should take today to rest."

"No, I'm fine, but I—"

"—Some food might do you good, too. Maybe all this traveling is taking a toll on you, maybe we should take today and—"

"I said I'm fine!" Bubbles didn't mean to snap at him. She didn't mean to bat his hands away and she certainly didn't mean to glower at him. She didn't mean to be mean to him, but why wasn't he taking her seriously?

Boomer blinked, hurt flickering across his eyes. "Whoa, sorry.."

The headache was getting worse. Why did she feel so awful? Why was Bubbles the only one picking up on all these noises at night, and why did Boomer keep brushing it off like it wasn't an actual thing that was happening? Was it possible that she was finally losing her mind?

...Or was Boomer not as trustworthy as she originally thought?

They walked along the edge of the neighborhood in silence.

Bubbles had apologized after literally and figuratively pushing Boomer away, and he'd accepted her apology despite still feeling hurt. He'd only been trying to help; when he'd woken up and saw how pale and worn out she looked, he'd been worried. Bubbles wasn't herself these days and he had no idea what was causing it. She didn't smile much anymore, she hardly laughed when he tried to make a joke, and overall, she appeared exhausted. Troubled. Something was weighing on her, but what? She barely even spoke, and anytime he tried to ask if she was okay, she'd quickly nod and that would be the end of it. He was beginning to grow frustrated, but what could he say? How could he demand that she tell him what was wrong when she was already in a semi-catatonic state?

After an eternity of walking in uncomfortable, tense silence, Bubbles' soft voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Can you do me a favor?"

She didn't look upset anymore, but her expression was unreadable. Boomer couldn't tell what she was thinking; she looked more serious and contemplative than he'd ever seen her look before. It made him feel sick inside because this was how most girls looked at him: they didn't think he was charming, funny, or worth talking to. They thought he was obnoxious and annoying, his sense of humor immature and tiring. Was Bubbles... Did she look at him that way, too? Had things changed without his knowing it?

"What's that?" he asked. "What do you want me to do?"

Part of him was expecting her to say, "I want you to go fuck yourself," because that's what girls in the past had said to him. Boomer could count on one hand how many girlfriends he'd had, and none of them had ever been kind when their relationship ended, whether it was by his choice or theirs. So when she lifted a hand towards his face, he winced out of reflex, fully anticipating a slap for whatever wrong he'd committed against her.

...What he wasn't expecting was for Bubbles to gently tilt his head down, her delicate fingers stretching his mouth wide so she could examine his teeth. He froze, unsure of what she was trying to do, especially when he felt her index finger rubbing against his canine teeth. Boomer wanted to ask her what exactly she was trying to do, but it wasn't like he could talk when she kept poking and prodding at his teeth, the look in her eyes a mix of fear and uncertainty.

He licked his lips when she finally let go of him, and he watched in curiosity as she wiped her hands on her shorts.

"Did you find whatever you were looking for?" he asked, half-jokingly. "You're kinda freakin' me out here."

"No," she replied, her severe expression softening. "No, I didn't. I'm glad I didn't."

"May I ask why you were playing dentist with me?"

Bubbles didn't reply, but she did stand on her tip-toes to place her wrist against his forehead. He was about to repeat his question and ask if she was okay when she heaved a sigh of relief. "Good. You're warm."

"Uhh... You mean like, normal-warm or fever-warm?" Boomer carefully took hold of her wrist and moved it off his forehead so they could hold hands instead. "Bubbles, what's going on? What are you thinking?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were still you," she replied. Those piercing eyes roamed his face again much like they had earlier.

That I'm still me? Boomer's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

But they both knew what she meant. She didn't believe him when he'd said it was just a deer lurking around. She didn't believe him when he'd said there were two bathrooms, not one, and that he hadn't heard her calling. She didn't believe him when he said he didn't hear anything, not even footsteps when she'd heard them padding back and forth, as if something or someone were pacing.

She didn't believe him, not at all.

"Are you... Are you trying to say you thought I was one of them?" he whispered in disbelief.

Bubbles didn't answer, but she looked away in shame. That was all the answer he needed.

"I told you before that if I was bitten, I wouldn't come back to you."

"I know that," she replied quickly. "I'm not trying to accuse you of being bitten."

"Then why were you checking my teeth? Why were you touching my forehead?"

"Because last night freaked me out, okay? I didn't like where my thoughts were taking me."

"So this morning when you said you were tired, you were lying. You were actually wondering whether or not I was infected, weren't you? Is that's what's been weighing on you?"

Bubbles' expression fell. This was quickly spiraling into something unpleasant. "Boomer, I'm not trying to accuse you of anything. Put yourself in my shoes: what would you think if you woke up in the middle of the night, I was gone, and you heard weird noises outside? How would you feel? What would you think?"

"Simple: I'd think you went to the bathroom and there's either an infected outside or I'm hearing things."

"Okay, and if you called for me and I didn't answer you?"

"I'd check to see if you really were in the bathroom," he replied, as if they were talking about the simplest thing in the world.

Bubbles paused. When she'd called for him, she'd never thought to actually check the bathroom...

"Why would you even suspect me?" he asked, hurt that she would even be suspicious of him. He'd risked everything for her, he'd risked his life to make it back to her in one piece. How could she even get it into her head that he could be one of the infected? "We've had this conversation before, a few days ago, even. Why don't you trust me? I've been with you this whole time, and now all of a sudden you're doubting me? Come on, Bubbles, what the hell?"

"I'm not trying to doubt you," she argued. "But something's not right between us. Things have been different ever since you came back."

"Different how?" He folded his arms across his chest. For once, in all the time that she'd known him, Boomer looked genuinely annoyed. "What exactly has changed? I thought we were fine."

"We are," she stressed. "But something's not right."

"Can you try to explain what exactly isn't right?"

Bubbles could feel her stomach tightening. This was going to become an argument, she could feel it, but she couldn't just sit back and let all these red flags fly. Her intuition was not something to be ignored.

"You're not acting like yourself," she began. "I don't know what it is, but you're different. Your behavior has changed."

Boomer scoffed, shaking his head as he looked away. When he returned his gaze to her, she felt like a child about to be scolded. "Bubbles, the only one who's changed is you. All I did was come back to you, and you know I would've let them kill me if I even thought I was bitten. I'm not one of them, I would never put you in harm's way like that. You're the one who's thinking too much and twisting things."

Something inside of her snapped. "I'm thinking too much and twisting things? Are you serious?" She advanced on him, jabbing a finger into his chest. "I'm the one who sat all by myself for almost a week wondering where you were, worried that you weren't gonna make it back!"

"And I'm the one who literally sat in a dumpster, not knowing whether or not I was going to make it back to you!" he fired back.

"I know that, I'm not discrediting that, but I'm hearing things at night!"

"How is that my problem?"

"It'll become your problem if we wake up with an infected feeding on us!" she hissed.

"That's not going to happen! We're literally in the middle of nowhere, Bubbles! We haven't seen or heard infected since Townsville!"

"What makes you think they won't start coming into the woods to look for food once they've exhausted the cities and suburbs?" she argued.

"I'm not saying it's impossible, I'm saying that it hasn't happened yet. We're fine out here! Stop being so damn paranoid!"

Fury lit her veins. "I'm being paranoid because I have good reason to be!"

He shook his head at her. "And I'm the reason behind this paranoia? Why are you so suspicious of me, the one person who's tried to help you and work with you to stay safe?"

"Because I didn't start hearing shit until you came back!"

Boomer scoffed again, though this time, hurt was written all over his face. "So what, are you saying you wish I hadn't come back?"

Bubbles groaned, face-palming. "No, Boomer, I'm not saying that! What I'm saying is, something is different between us and I'm scared, okay?"

"Bubbles, I'm here with you every second of every day," he argued. "How am I acting different? What am I doing to make you think I'm infected?"

She faltered. Boomer hadn't been acting differently at all, but the past two nights...

"I don't have an answer," she admitted, deflating. Maybe she was wrong to think there was something wrong with Boomer. He had a point, after all—why should she suspect him of anything when he wasn't doing anything wrong? If she was hearing things at night, it couldn't be Boomer when he was sleeping right beside her.

"How would you feel if I accused you of being infected?" he asked curtly. "How would you feel if I brushed you off, snapped at you, and was cold to you when I got back from Townsville?"

All anger left her at that. "B-but I'm not infected!"

"I know, but it doesn't feel good to be accused of something you're not, does it?" The fire in his eyes cooled some. "That's what I'm trying to tell you: I'm not infected either, but I could've easily thought you were. Don't you trust me at all?"

"Yes, of course I do."

"Then what makes you think I'm infected? Why is it that you're the only one hearing stuff and I'm not? Why don't you wake me up when this is going on?"

"I tried last night, but I couldn't move!"

Boomer chuckled bitterly. "Right. So you get a taste of sleep paralysis, you hear shit that isn't there, and so that makes me a possible infected. That's totally logical, Bubbles."

Bubbles frowned. "Boomer, I've never had that happen before. I've never woken up paralyzed and hearing stuff."

"Doesn't mean it can't happen."

She shook her head. "I wish you could hear it with me so you wouldn't think I'm crazy."

"I never said I thought you were crazy." Yet the way he was looking at her clearly indicated otherwise. "I just want to know why you won't trust me."

"But I do—"

"No, Bubbles, you don't. If you trusted me, you wouldn't be sitting here thinking there was something wrong with me when you're the only one experiencing weird things."

"But I never thought—"

"You didn't have to. Your actions speak volumes." Boomer sighed through his nose, shaking his head. "Unbelievable."

Bubbles reached out to take his hand. All of this was going from worse to even worse. She hadn't meant for them to argue and she wanted to make things right. "Boomer, wait—"

He withdrew his hand from hers and it caused a crack to form in her heart.

"Actually, Bubbles, I think I'm a little tired, too." He turned away from her. "I don't feel like talking anymore. Let's just keep going."

For the remainder of their journey, they kept to the woods that wrapped around the neighborhood area. Bubbles' stomach was still in knots from their earlier confrontation. She hated that there was a rift between them now, but Boomer didn't want to talk and she didn't know what to say.

Was she wrong for being suspicious of him? She'd heard the scratching, the whispers, the footsteps so clearly, as if they'd been right in the room with her! Yet... Was it possible she'd only dreamed she heard that stuff? Bubbles was not hard-headed like Buttercup; she was open to the possibility of being wrong, and if so, she had no problem apologizing or taking responsibility. This time, however, she truly had no idea if she was wrong or not.

The neighborhood gave way to a full-fledged town area, just as Boomer expected. They continued their journey through the woods in silence and with good reason—a few inhuman roars and shouts occasionally echoed from the heart of what was presumably Farmsville. Camping wasn't exactly fun or easy when something could easily sneak up on them, but they didn't encounter any infected. The only thing they did encounter was the usual woodland wildlife; nothing was out of the ordinary as far as that was concerned.

Boomer, however, remained distant towards Bubbles, only talking to her when necessary and focusing solely on the map in his hands. His distance towards her only got worse when they found another house to take shelter in. He barely chatted with her and when he went in to check for infected, he didn't seem enthusiastic or happy that the place was clear.

At one point, she tried to apologize for her earlier actions, but he interrupted her and said he needed to use the bathroom. Once he left the room, she fought the urge to break down into tears. Bubbles wished she'd never brought up anything about the noises at night. Maybe then she and Boomer would still be close, but part of her whispered that if something like this tore them apart, then maybe they'd never been close to begin with. And the more she thought about it, the more she decided that her actions hadn't been accusatory—she hadn't checked his teeth because she thought he was one of them. She'd checked his teeth because she was trying to get her anxiety to stop running in circles around her. Bubbles knew that if something had happened to her best friend, he hadn't been joking about not returning to her. He would never put her in danger, of that she was extremely sure, and she knew he would gladly let the infected rip him to pieces instead of potentially allowing harm to come to her.

When Boomer returned from his shower, he went about his business, checking the map and getting his stuff settled. Bubbles did the same, not speaking a word to him, and enjoyed a tiny dinner of canned chicken soup and saltine crackers. Once it started getting late, Boomer set up a spot on the floor and that's when Bubbles had had enough.

"Okay, this needs to stop."

He glanced at her warily. "What?"

"I don't care if you're pissed at me; we're not playing the silent treatment game anymore," Bubbles growled. "We're adults and if you really love me, we're going to talk this out or go our separate ways. You choose."

Boomer blinked at her, all hostility leaving his frame. Before he could reply, she continued: "I know you feel like I don't trust you, but I do. I know my actions stated otherwise when I was examining you, but you have to understand, when I'm hearing shit at night, my first thought is that something is trying to get to us. It could be an actual thing outside or it could be nightmares, I'm not even sure, and if you wanna think I'm crazy, feel free. Here's the thing, though: when I hear this shit, for some reason, you're never around. I can't call out to you, I can't reach out and wake you up, and I can't find you no matter where I look. That's why I'm getting concerned and if it's something wrong with me, then I'll deal with it, but that's why I did what I did earlier. My anxiety is getting worse and I was trying to get it to stop, and I realize now that I should've just talked to you about what I was feeling instead of checking your teeth. I'm not trying to excuse my behavior, I'm trying to take responsibility and I apologize for how I made you feel. If you still don't want to talk to me and you're done with me, then we can split the supplies and go our separate ways."

Her voice cracked on the last word, but she meant all that she'd said. She loved Boomer and she didn't want him to go, but sometimes this sort of thing happened; people grew apart and the best thing to do was to let them go, even if it hurt. Even in the darkness, she saw his eyebrows lift in surprise. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, clearly trying to formulate a reply.

Finally, when Boomer seemed to gather his thoughts, he met her eyes. "Bubbles, I don't... I don't think you're crazy and I don't want to part ways with you. I wasn't kidding when I said I loved you."

"Then why are you giving me the silent treatment?"

"Because I'm still trying to figure out what's going on myself," he admitted. After the figurative and literal space he'd put between them, he finally bridged the gap and came to sit beside her on the sofa. "Why is it that I'm not hearing anything when you are? I'm just as afraid of getting caught off-guard by an infected as you are so the slightest stuff wakes me up. I don't understand why I'm not picking up on the things you are."

"Maybe something's messing with us," she suggested. "I have no idea if the infected can do that, but maybe that's a thing."

"Maybe, but it still bothers me that you're the only one hearing it and I'm not, and again, I don't think you're crazy, I just... When you were checking my teeth and stuff, it made me wonder if you thought I was one of them. I've seen how they act when they're first turned and trust me, they're not human at all. They can't speak, they don't act like we do, and they certainly don't seem to think like we do. They're all kinds of sick and twisted and I'm not one of them, Bubbles."

The blonde took his hand into hers. "I know that and I trust you. Look, it's not an excuse, but you know I'm good at overthinking things. I didn't mean anything by the whole teeth thing, and I'm sorry for making you feel like I didn't trust you."

"I'm sorry for calling you paranoid," he admitted. "I didn't mean that."

"To be fair, I can be a little too paranoid sometimes."

"Yeah, well, it's one of the reasons why I love you." He kissed her forehead. "Are we okay?"

Bubbles reached over to intertwine her fingers with his. "Yeah. We're okay."

The next few days, everything seemed to return to normal. Bubbles stopped hearing things at night and Boomer was back to his chipper self.

They were three-quarters past the town area of Farmsville, getting closer to the safe zone with each passing day. One evening, they'd settled down in a trailer park. No one was around and the infected were, unsurprisingly, also nowhere to be found. The two blonds were just putting their stuff down and getting settled in for the night when Bubbles noticed that Boomer seemed a little uneasy. He was staring towards the center of Farmsville with a queer expression that Bubbles wasn't sure how to interpret.

She said his name but he didn't respond. After a few more tries, she finally waved in front of his face, and that got his attention.

"Sorry, what's up?"

"Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah, I'm fine," he replied, his eyes flickering back towards where he'd been staring off into space. "I just really don't like being in areas where there might be lots of those things out there. After seeing just how fast and violent they can be, I'd rather not be in a place where I know they're lurking. I kinda like not having my face ripped off, y'know?"

Bubbles could understand where he was coming from; she hadn't had to hide in a dumpster, but she did remember when they'd been cornered in his house. Having inhuman, bloodthirsty creatures nipping at her heels was not an experience she'd like to repeat, and while Farmsville was rather empty, there could still be areas where the infected were waiting for prey to walk by.

After they both ate a little bit, she wasn't feeling very tired. In fact, Boomer had showed her that they were extremely close to where the evacuation zone was. If they were lucky, they might just get there much earlier than expected, and then she could start the search for her family. She'd find them and then they could meet Boomer, and then maybe things would be okay. Maybe then humanity would get a handle on all this craziness, and they'd look back on the panic, the fear, and the horror as nothing more than a nightmare they'd managed to escape.

It was wishful thinking on her part, especially since Boomer had lost his family to this epidemic, but the evacuation zone gave her hope. If humanity was able to keep holding on, then maybe there was a chance the world could one day experience a restoration of normalcy.

The first night of their stay in the trailer park, everything was fine. They'd initially planned on packing up shop and continuing towards the evacuation zone. It was only a matter of time before they reached the limits of Farmsville where it was located; they were making excellent time and he wanted to keep them ahead of schedule.

On the second day, torrential rain moved in and came down in full-force, as if trying to wash the world clean of the infection that plagued it. They would have braved the wet weather, but after Boomer had stuck his hand out to test it and finding his arm soaked within seconds, they both decided that staying in for a day might be a good idea. Neither of them wanted to get sick or deal with soaked clothes, so for most of the day, they spent most of their time reading whatever books were lying around, going over Boomer's map, and napping.

The third day found the rain finally leaving them, but the third day also found Bubbles and Boomer not speaking to each other.

They hadn't had an argument, but Boomer's actions made it clear that he wasn't in the mood to chat. When Bubbles awoke that morning to bright sunshine instead of gray skies, she'd turned to Boomer to remark upon the beautiful day only to find that his side of the bed was empty. She'd been surprised, but Boomer was an early riser these days, so she didn't think much of not waking up beside him. Yet when Boomer emerged from the dingy bathroom with dark circles under his eyes and a frown instead of his usual sunny smile, she knew something was up.

"Are you alright?" she asked. Boomer barely even looked at her. He simply mumbled, "I'm fine, just tired," and then walked past her to grab a clean shirt. They both got ready for the day in silence and Bubbles ate by herself while he finished washing up in the bathroom. When he emerged, he still looked worse for wear. As he began to towel-dry his hair, his blonde companion couldn't help but ask again, "Are you sure you're okay?"

He paused, glancing at her with an exhaustion that was so unlike Boomer that it was almost startling. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week, even though he'd been napping on and off alongside her yesterday. The rain, though it'd set them back a day, had provided a much-needed break to rest and slow down for a moment. While Bubbles had spent most of her time reading and skimming through the stack of psychological thrillers they'd found in the living room, Boomer had spent a good chunk of the day sleeping next to her.

To Boomer's credit, he tried to smile but it appeared forced. His eyes were glassy and slightly red, like he'd also been crying. Bubbles didn't know what to make of all these new developments.

"I promise, I'm fine," he replied, his voice soft. "Just tired. I'll be better once we're up and moving again."

Yet as they packed everything up and started to head towards the direction of where this safe zone was supposed to be, Boomer's demeanor didn't improve. His exhaustion only grew worse, even when Bubbles forced him to rest while she took most of the night watch, and he stopped smiling altogether. Worry creased his expression and his eyes, always reminding Bubbles of hot summer days spent by the ocean, grew dull and sad. No matter how many times she asked him if he was okay, he always replied that he was tired. He wouldn't budge; he wouldn't open up to her about what was really on his mind.

Boomer was also much less goofy than usual and much more hell-bent on getting to the safe zone. Bubbles didn't comment on his lack of puns or attempts at conversation, and even if she wanted to, she wasn't sure he'd hear her. Most of the time, his face was buried in the map he carried. Sometimes if she had a question, it took her a few tries to even get his attention. Boomer stopped being physically affectionate as well; he didn't try to hold hands with her, hug her, or kiss her; in fact, Bubbles felt as though he was purposely trying to avoid touching her altogether. It seemed like after staying in the trailer park, things had changed for the worse and she didn't understand why.

Part of her wondered if maybe she was just overthinking things. Maybe Boomer really was just tired, and understandably so; he kept insisting on taking watch, much to her chagrin—she still kicked herself for allowing her exhaustion to put them at risk—and he'd been putting on a brave face for so long that he hadn't exactly given himself time to grieve over the loss of normalcy as they'd known it. He hadn't been able to grieve his brothers, either... Perhaps he was silently asking for space because that was what he needed to process everything that had happened. If that was the case, she shouldn't take his changed behavior personally; after all, there was no right or wrong way to grieve, and she didn't expect Boomer to be happy all the time.

They found another house to stay at and wound up staying there a little longer than planned. Along with changes in attitude, Boomer's exhaustion reached a peak level during their first morning there. He looked deathly ill as he lay sprawled out on the couch, the dark bags under his eyes making them appear sunken in. The blond looked like a shadow of his former self. Bubbles tried to take care of him—she tried feeding him soup and stayed by his side day and night in case he needed anything. He slept a lot and she wondered if he had somehow gotten sick. Perhaps that was the consequence for hiding out in a dumpster for hours and days on-end, for denying himself sleep.

Or perhaps, a small, ugly little part of her whispered, Boomer is not himself for another reason.

Bubbles would be lying if she said she hadn't considered these behavioral changes alarming. Boomer's natural demeanor was not the one he was showing her now—he was not the type to be constantly tired, unhappy, and easily annoyed. Boomer was pleasant, energetic, optimistic, and overall an upbeat person. This was not the young man she'd met all those weeks ago, when all of this first started.

Could it be possible that Boomer had been bitten? Bubbles didn't like to consider the idea, but the fact that he was always worn out, the fact that he looked like death and clearly felt like death... It really made her wonder. Yet, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that no, Boomer wasn't bitten or turning. He couldn't be; he'd told her multiple times that he would never return to her if he even had the slightest inkling that he'd been bitten. Boomer was not the type to lie, nor was he good at lying; his "word vomit" gave everything away and his actions communicated everything clearly. While Boomer was certainly not "fine," as he kept trying to convince her, he certainly wasn't bitten, and besides, there was no possible way he could be turning: they hadn't come across any infected whatsoever. Bubbles was also pretty sure that being moody and tired weren't symptoms of being infected. Most people were irritable when they didn't get much sleep—Bubbles herself could testify that during the times she hadn't been getting enough rest, she wasn't exactly pleasant to be around.

Despite his condition, Boomer forced himself to get up after having a little bit of soup and sleeping for a few hours. Bubbles, who had remained by his side the whole time, was quick to place a hand on his shoulder and ease him back down. "You should rest a bit longer. We're safe here and you've clearly been pushing yourself too hard."

"No," he mumbled. "Have to keep going. We're almost there."

"But you're exhausted, you need to get some rest and—"

"No, Bubbles!" he snapped, glowering darkly at her. "We have to keep going! Do you want to see your family or not?!"

She blinked at him with a mix of hurt and shock. Boomer seemed to realize the sharpness of his words because his expression softened and he immediately backpedaled.

"I'm sorry, I.. I just... We need to leave, alright?" When she didn't say anything, he continued, "If we don't keep going, my brothers will catch up to us and we can't let that happen."

Wordlessly, Bubbles helped him sit up and they got their things together. Again, they didn't talk as they continued their journey, and this time, Bubbles didn't feel like talking either.

The next house they came to was more run-down than the last few places they'd encountered. It wasn't a cabin at all, rather it was a farmhouse that looked like it had been well-taken care of before the world became an apocalyptic one. A barn sat beside it, equally as pristine, and Bubbles wondered if it was safe. Without saying anything, Boomer trudged into the barn silently, returning after what felt like forever.

"It's clear," he muttered. She opened her mouth to thank him for looking, but by the time she was ready to use her voice, Boomer turned and headed up the porch steps. After ensuring the house was clear, Boomer told her he needed some time alone to think and disappeared outside, leaving her to her own thoughts. Bubbles watched him go, wanting to say so much but also not knowing what to say. Why was Boomer so irritable? Was grief finally sinking in? Anger was definitely one of the five stages of grief, so maybe that was why he was so snappish.

Boomer spent the rest of the day outside on the porch, head in his hands as he sat on the wicker bench. Bubbles wanted to talk to him, to ask what he was thinking about, but figured giving him the space he clearly needed would be best. The last thing she wanted to do was pester him and potentially spark another argument, so she kept herself busy by showering, scrubbing some of her clothes clean in the bathtub then hanging them up on the shower curtain rod, and taking stock of their supplies. In all of the excitement of Boomer returning and their rush to get away from Townsville, they hadn't quite kept up with their inventory, and to her dismay, Bubbles found that they were starting to run a little low on food. Sooner or later, they'd have to stop somewhere and see what they could find.

When night began to fall, Boomer found his way inside. He was still in a sour, contemplative mood, but he brightened somewhat when he found Bubbles putting away some of her dried shirts.

"Hey," he greeted. "What are you up to?"

She glanced at him. Boomer didn't look nearly as bad as before, but weariness still clung to him as he stood there, leaning against the door frame.

"I managed to clean my clothes," she explained, folding one shirt and tucking it into her backpack carefully. "They've needed to be washed for a long time and I figured there's no time like the present."

"Did you use a washboard?"

"No, I don't think there's one here." She folded a few other shirts quickly, "I was actually going to ask if you wanted me to wash yours as well, but I wasn't sure if you wanted to be left alone or not."

"Yeah, about that..." He rubbed his arm. "I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. I don't know why I was so pissy, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I was out of line."

Bubbles didn't look up. "It's fine."

"I really am sorry."

"I know."

"How can I make it up to you?"

She was quiet for a moment, and Boomer was about to repeat his question when she asked, "Can you tell me what's going on with you?"

"What do you mean?"

Bubbles gave him a knowing look. "You're tired all the time, you're snapping at me, you're unhappy... It's like after we argued, everything changed. What's going on, Boomer? Please, be honest with me. Talk to me and tell me what you're thinking about."

He hesitated, then hung his head and let out a long sigh. "You're right. I'm not happy."

Hurt stabbed at her. "Are you unhappy with me?"

"No, no, no! Not you, never you," he quickly assured, moving to sit next to her. "It has to do with... I kind of... I realized something a few nights ago."

She waited for him to continue. Boomer seemed to be struggling with how to verbalize his thoughts, only increasing her curiosity.

"See, the thing is, when we get there," his voice cracked on the last word and he cleared his throat, trying and failing to keep the sadness from his voice. "I realized that once we make it to the safe zone, my brothers aren't going to be there."

Bubbles watched in shocked silence as he shook his head, his expression crumpling: "I-I mean, think about it: I already know what happened to my family. There is no hope that they'll be there waiting for me, safe and sound. Mojo, Brick, and Butch are infected—they're out there somewhere doing God knows what. My family is..."

It was then that the dam broke. Boomer squeezed his eyes shut and his frame shook with silent sobs. Bubbles quickly pulled him into a hug and he wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her as close as possible. He held onto her like he thought she might disappear at any moment, and she wouldn't blame him for having developed such a fear. He'd already lost so much; of course he'd be afraid of losing the one person he had left.

"My family is dead, Bubbles. They're not gonna be waiting for me with open arms. I'm going to be alone..."

"No, you won't." She pulled back and cupped his face in her hands. His eyes were red and glassy again, and this time she knew why: Boomer really had been crying. Now it all made sense—he truly was grieving, and he'd been trying to handle it on his own. "I promise, Boomer, you won't be alone, not while I'm still here. I don't know if my family will be there or not, but either way, I'm sticking with you no matter what. I won't ever leave unless you explicitly tell me to."

He sniffled and wiped at his eyes, a few stray tears still running down his cheeks. "I know, Bubbles, and thank you for that. I... I miss them, you know? I'll never get to see them again. I was sitting awake one night and I got to thinking, a-and... There won't be a happy ending with them. Ever. Once we get to the safe zone, I won't be able to lie and tell myself that no, they're not dead, they're just away somewhere. Brick and Butch and Mojo..." He shuddered as another sob wracked through him. "The reality is that they're gone."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling her own eyes growing wet. Her heart broke for him; she couldn't even begin to imagine the pain he was feeling at such a realization. "I'm so sorry, Boomer.."

"I'm sorry I've been such a jerk to you," he added, looking down at his hands in shame. "I've been trying to keep it together, I've been trying to pretend like I'm okay, but the closer we get to the end of this journey, the more I'm realizing that even if I get to safety, there's nothing waiting for me there. There's no happy ending after this nightmare. I mean, I'll get to be with you and we'll be safe and believe me, I love you and I'm relieved that we'll finally be safe, but... My family couldn't make it. They won't get to find safety or happiness."

"Your family loved you dearly," Bubbles replied, tilting his chin up so he could meet her gaze. The brokenness in his eyes pained her; she wished she could take away his pain, but no amount of hugs could ever cure what he was feeling. "Even if they didn't make it, I know they would've wanted you to get to safety."

"But what good is surviving if the ones I love don't get to survive with me?"

The blonde wasn't sure what to say to that because she'd often thought the same thing. She wasn't sure she could ever imagine a world without Blossom, Buttercup, or the Professor, and she sure as heck couldn't imagine a world without Boomer. If she ever lost any of her loved ones, it would be incredibly difficult to find the strength to press on, but if she knew anything, it was that her family would want her to continue on even if they couldn't be with her. Buttercup had often half-joked that if anything ever happened to her, Bubbles and Blossom better continue living their lives or she'd haunt the ever-loving crap out of them and cause all kinds of inconveniences, like turning everything upside down, leaving cabinets open, all that stuff. While Buttercup's statement had made them all laugh, all three of the Utonium sisters knew that no matter what happened, good or bad, nothing could ever destroy the bond they shared—not even death. And if there was anything Bubbles was sure about, it was that nothing could destroy the bond that Boomer shared with his brothers, either. Especially not death.

"We have to survive and keep going because it's a way to keep the memory of our loved ones alive," Bubbles offered. "Think about it: you may be the last Jojo, but you serve as a reminder that Mojo and Brick and Butch were here. They were people who made you laugh, helped you up when you fell down, loved you, and they taught you all kinds of valuable lessons. They may not be with you anymore, but you'll always have your memories. There is nothing that can ever take away the memories and the bond you shared with them, and at the risk of sounding cheesy, they still exist in your heart. They still live on through you."

Boomer mulled over what she said and sniffled, still trying to collect himself. "Th-that's true, I guess I never thought of it that way."

She reached up to brush a few stray strands of hair from his face. "I'm sorry that you lost them, Boomer, I can't even begin to imagine what you're going through. I don't know what to say or do, and I know there's not much I can do to ease your pain, but please know that you are definitely not alone, and just because we get to the safe zone doesn't mean that will change. I'm here no matter what, and you don't have to pretend you're okay or put on a brave face for me. It's okay to be upset and to grieve, and if you need to cry, you can cry on my shoulder anytime."

He hugged her tightly again. "I love you, Bubbles, and thank you. You're all I have left, and I need you to understand that I'll do anything to protect you. I'd give my life to save yours."

"I love you, too," she assured, wiping away a stray tear from his face. "And I feel the same way about you. I won't let anything happen to you and I'd give up my life to save you in a heartbeat. We're in this together and I'm not going anywhere, no matter what happens."

Bubbles meant every word. No matter what happened, even if she was reunited with her family or sorely disappointed, she would stick with Boomer. No harm would come to him under her watch and she'd do everything in her power to make him as happy as possible. She would never fill the void left by his family, nor would she ever try to, but she would be there for him and love him as best as she could regardless.

"You, um..." He cleared his throat. His tears seemed to be drying up, which was good, and it seemed like whatever tension had been residing within him had dissolved. "You said you washed your clothes before. C-can you teach me how to do mine?"

"You sure? I don't mind doing your laundry," she replied. Boomer looked like he could use another nap and she was happy to help in any way she could.

He chuckled. "Trust me, babe, my clothes are gross, and I'd rather not subject you to that kind of horror. And honestly... It'll give me something to do so I can stop thinking for a little while."

Bubbles smiled. "Alright. Follow me; I think my clothes are done drying anyway."

Boomer spent the next two hours washing his clothes. He'd gotten the hang of it pretty quickly, and after Bubbles had removed the rest of her now-clean laundry from the shower curtain rod, Boomer started hanging up his own. He was doing better from earlier, when he'd poured his heart out to her, and he seemed to be in somewhat better spirits. He was still quiet, but Bubbles now understood why, and so she allowed him his space.

While he finished up the last of his laundry, Bubbles made her way down to the kitchen for a makeshift dinner. She knew their food supply was low, so they'd have to ration whatever they had left. She settled for a granola bar, and she was just beginning to take her first bite when the most peculiar thing happened. A strange, deep "click" sounded once, and then the kitchen, which had been dark, was flooded with light.

Her hands flew up to shield her face from the sudden onslaught of brightness. After a few minutes of trying to get her eyes to adjust, Bubbles looked around the room, dumbfounded. The clock on the stove was on, its green numbers blinking "12:00" over and over, and Bubbles could faintly hear a humming noise coming from the refrigerator. The living room, as well as the rest of the house, was lit up like a Christmas tree.

The power was back on.

HUGE shout out to my sister who not only helped me with some of the edits, but also helped me figure everything out when I hit roadblocks. Thank you so much for putting up with all my crazy ideas; if it weren't for you, this chapter would still be unfinished and gathering dust on my computer.