On Thursday morning at nine, Professor Utonium sat in stunned disbelief in the small second-floor office of Dr. Adam Waldman, Townsville General Hospital's chief pediatric oncologist. He was a tall man several years older than the Professor, with short gray hair and a neatly trimmed beard the same color. He and the professor were dressed identically except that Waldman's tie was a deep red.

Being a scientist, the professor had a pretty good understanding of what he'd just seen and had explained to him on the two sets of CAT scans hanging, backlit, on the wall before him. The difference was obvious between the one on the left, taken the day before, a few hours after Bubbles was admitted to the hospital after leaving her doctor's office; and the other, to its right. The newer one had been done that morning at seven. The small, irregular shaped masses were scattered throughout his daughter's brain, appearing as a deep red in their centers and spreading through the oranges into the yellows the further out they went. Blood vessels ran like little fingers into the centers. The healthy brain tissue showed up as a mottled pinkish color. In the scan on the right, the masses were noticeably larger. It was obvious, and ominous. A biopsy had been done, but the results weren't back yet.

What he couldn't believe, what had yet to register, was that only a week earlier his beautiful little girl had gone to school like always, bursting with life. Now he had just been told she was going to die. There was no hope, none. The doctor had been no less shocked and couldn't believe he was saying the words.

"Professor, I have seen every form of juvenile brain cancer there is, and I have never seen anything like this. Some tumors are localized and grow slowly, others are invasive and can spread rapidly. Most affect only one portion of the brain. This at least gives us some options: Surgery, radiation or chemotherapy, sometimes a combination of two or all three. In Bubbles' case, every key part of her brain is affected, except for the speech center, for some unknown reason. Intracranial pressure has leveled out but it is still extremely high, the tumors are cytotoxic and infiltrating..."

The professor heard the words and understood them, but he asked anyway the questions that were asked by every family member who had just learned their loved one was doomed.

"What course of treatment are you planning, Doctor?"

"Palliative care, Professor. We help her to go with as little pain as possible."

"I see." He didn't, not yet. She couldn't be dying, not his little angel...she couldn't... "How long, Doctor?"

Oh, how Waldman hated this part of the job...playing God with someone's life. He'd seen cases where he'd given someone three months, and two years later they were cancer-free and healthy as a horse. The fighters. Others, once they got the bad news they just gave up and were gone in weeks when medically speaking, they should have had much longer to live. Bubbles would be one of the fighters, but he had to go with what he knew; and what he knew was that often, even the most valiant fighters still lost.

"These scans are twelve hours apart. The pronounced cell growth in that short period tells me days, Professor...not weeks, days. Perhaps less. I am very, very sorry."

The professor wasn't prepared to accept that. "That's not possible. How could that be?" he mumbled, more to himself than as a question for the man on the other side of the desk.

The doctor wanted to be objective. "I can't explain it other than that she's not like anyone else. None of the girls are."

The professor blinked hard several times. "Of course! They're NOT like anyone else! Why did I think normal medical techniques would help her?"

His voice lost its soft, disconnected tone, and he stood up. "Thank you, Dr. Waldman. If there's nothing more that can be done, I'd like to take her home. She'll be happier there than here in the hospital."

The two men shook hands. "I'll sign the release," the doctor said, "and I'll pray for a miracle."

A voice came over the hospital's PA system. "Dr. Waldman, Code Blue, room 225, Dr. Waldman..."

Bubbles' room.

* * * * * * *

The tow girls had been sitting watching Bubbles, peacefully asleep at the moment, in her bed; hooked up to monitors and IV drip bags. Neither wanted to speak aloud their fears because they were afraid their sister might still understand them through the morphine. So they sat holding each others' hands, fighting the tears, each alone with her own thoughts.

The Mayor's assistant and their good friend, Sara Bellum, had come to stay with them at the professor's request. She couldn't believe what was happening, either. The girls seemed so...so... indestructible. This couldn't really be happening. But she had seen it before. She and the professor had spoken about it briefly, out of Buttercup's and Blossom's hearing, of just what this could possibly be. From what she could see, that is what it probably was, and she was preparing herself, wondering what and how to tell Bubbles' sisters. That's why he'd asked her to come, because he couldn't tell them himself.

Bellum had been standing behind the two girls, her hands resting lightly on their shoulders. She watched the tube that ran from Bubbles' body into the bag at the side of the bed, partially hidden by the bedsheet; and saw that it hadn't filled any more in over an hour. Bubbles' kidneys weren't doing their job, and she knew what that meant.

Blossom and Buttercup had gotten used to the rhythm of the machines that their sister was connected to. They would emit a series of beeps occasionally, and a nurse would come in to hit a reset button, make an adjustment or replace an empty drip bag. But suddenly, a number of different beeps sounded simultaneously, and lights began flashing all over. The girls jumped and Sara was shocked, too. The next thing they knew, they were being shoved out of the room by two nurses and an intern, and the door shut behind them. Over the speaker in the ceiling, they heard the words 'Code Blue' and the number that matched the one on the door they were staring at.

"She's gonna die." Buttercup said matter-of-factly. Then she flew down the hallway, punching and kicking the walls, leaving several holes. "Nooooooooo!" she screamed, and Blossom flew to her, got her in a bear hug and pinned her arms to her sides. Tears ran down their cheeks. Sara hurried over to them, knelt and pulled them in close, wrapping her arms around them.

"Girls, you have to think positive. They're doing everything they can for Bubbles and you have to believe she's going to get better."

"But she's not!" Buttercup wailed.

Around the corner from the opposite direction and toward them ran the professor and a doctor. The doctor stopped the professor from going inside the room with his hand and a look, then went inside and shut the door. The red light over the door was still flashing on and off. The professor looked angrily at the closed door. Sara stood up.

"Girls, wait right here."

She walked over to the professor and they talked quietly for several moments, occasionally looking or gesturing toward the girls. Once, he looked over and smiled at them reassuringly, but Blossom thought that he looked more angry than afraid. It didn't make sense. Then, the door to the room opened, the doctor poked his head out and nodded, and the professor went inside. Sara came over to them.

"Girls, I need you to be strong."

"She IS going to die, isn't she." Blossom said. She gripped Buttercup even tighter.

"Blossom, we can't lose hope. The professor hasn't given up. He thinks there's something he can do..." Her words trailed off.

"But the doctors don't, do they?" Buttercup asked.

"Boy, are they perceptive. I think it's best to just tell them the truth." She knelt in front of them again.

"Girls, it does look very bad, but there's ALWAYS hope."

"Just tell us, Ms. Bellum. It's cancer, isn't it?"

Sara's shoulders sagged. "Yes, Blossom. They can't stop it."

"I hate that word." Buttercup said. "We can be strong, Ms. Bellum. Our friend Carrie Blueberry ¹ taught us how."

"Yes, I remember." Sara whispered.

"Yes, Ms. Bellum." Blossom agreed. "Bubbles must be scared but I know she'll be brave. We'll just have to be brave, too."

* * * * * * *

Bubbles lay peacefully silent while the nurses and the intern went about checking, adjusting, and writing down findings on a chart. Dr. Waldman and the professor stood next to the bed on the door side.

"Professor, things are going much faster than we expected. Her kidneys have shut down. Her other major organs are in the process. Her heart and respiration are strong yet, but they are slowing. We are looking at hours now."

The professor maintained his silence, staring stonily at the doctor, who continued, glancing momentarily toward a monitor while the other three people in the room did their work.

"Her brain activity is dropping rapidly. If you plan on speaking with her, now would be the time. We're bringing her out now." Out of her sleep.

"Doctor, I still say there's something I can do for her."

The man couldn't imagine what, but at this point there was no harm in trying.

"I don't want her moved. Whatever you intend to do may be done here."

"Thank you. I'll have to go home for some things..."

"I wouldn't leave the hospital if it were me, but whatever you have to do..."

* * * * * * *

Sara went in first, and came out after a few minutes biting her lower lip, trying to be strong herself. The professor in the meantime had explained to Blossom and Buttercup that there was still hope, but if there was anything they wanted their sister to know, they'd better say it now. They went in holding hands and came out the same way, ten minutes later. They were sobbing, but Blossom surprised the professor with the news that Bubbles could see again. He hurried inside.

"She has her vision back temporarily." the doctor told him. "Not unusual. As the healthy cells die, there is less pressure on the optic nerve."

Bubbles looked over to him and smiled weakly. He smiled back and walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Hi, Professor. I can see again and it don't hurt as much now!"

He stroked her blonde hair. "That's good, honey. You should rest so you can get better quicker."

"It's OK, Professor, I know what's happenin' to me. Professor? Will Grandma and Grandpa Utonium know me when I get to heaven? They never saw me before."

"Of course they will, Bubbles. They know you now, but you won't be seeing them for a long, long time yet."

"Do you think they'll like me?"

"Honey, they love you just as much as I do. I-"

"Professor?" she interrupted. She was fighting to stay awake; the morphine was calling her back. "I always tried to be a good little girl. Was I good?"

He fought to keep control of himself as he leaned in and pulled her to his chest. "Oh, sweetie, you're the best little girl anyone could want!"

He lay her back down, and he could see she was fading fast. "Now, you get some more sleep and we'll have you out of here in no time."

She closed her eyes with a small smile on her face. "S'okay, Professor, I'm not scared no more. S'okay. G'bye, Professor...I love you..."

He let go of her hands, composed himself and stood. There was an embarrassed silence in the room. These people were professionals and dealt with death on a daily basis. They had witnessed countless scenes like this, but this one was too much for even them. They couldn't believe they were losing one of the Powerpuff Girls. They averted their eyes as he gave them a challenging glare.

"I'll be back."