A/N I promised this a long time ago and it's finally here. If you haven't noticed the last month I've introduced two new stories. I was supposed to go for three but that's not happening. I'm pushing the third back. For the records I haven't officially abandoned any story. Or more specifically I haven't abandoned A.L.L Middlewood, and BonBon P.I. These stories will get most of my focus in the last quarter of the year.

Shout out to Brother Bludgeon for helping with much of the plot line. And to good old Joe


Camp Wannaweep

July 9, 1992 8:45 PM

The little boy ran through the dark woods. Bare feet stumbling on stones and skidding on moist fallen leaves. His clothes were tattered and ripped and much of his torso was exposed. This left him vulnerable to the branches and thorns that slashed at his flesh.

Dear Kim,

What's up? How are you doing? If you can't tell by the mailing address I'm still at Camp Wannaweep. Not much has changed which is good and terrible news at the same time. Update: My butt is finally beginning to feel better the swelling disappeared and the bruises have vanished. (The scoutmaster says the retired circus monkey was eating poison ivy before he attacked me) Other than that I'm physically fine.

Though the branches stung mightily, he still ran. The once youthful expression was replaced by the look of a hunted animal. With tear filled eyes and quick gasps of breath, his legs gave way. He felt himself falling and a loud yelp escaped his lips. After falling in a pile of leaves on his hand and knees, a panicked search revealed that he had tripped over a jutting root. He surged forward with his last burst of energy but it only gained him a few feet more, before he collapsed again.

You might have heard about the flood on TV and were probably worried. We are OK. The flood actually washed away the nearby clown camp completely. You probably remember from my last letter how scary the clowns were. Well GOOD news the clown camp has merged with ours. So we have clowns walking around, every day now. It's great. By the way did you know that if you accidentally drop a can of hairspray on a campfire it will blowup? I do know now.

The chase was over.

A mini tornado of dust, dirt and leaves rose from the forest floor. He raised his hands in terror as the dirty wind swirled around him. The forest grit cut at his skin but he didn't cry out again until an explosion of white covered his entire body.

The abnormal white light flooded the forest area. A high pitched humming broke the silence of the forest and forced him to cover his ears. But the sound drowned out his very thoughts. He looked up just as a figure emerged from the white light.

In arts and crafts I made a cast. It can go on a arm or a leg. I made it because there's three weeks left in camp and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need it. Camp Wannaweep official rule number 4 always be prepared! I took pictures of the cast, and the lake and a few other things that give me nightmares every night. I'm going to get my pictures developed today. If I get them back before I mail this, I'll send you some.

"Y…you're the 'I come in peace' type right?" The boy managed to choke out through his tears. "Th… the… funny... k-kind like… A-A-A-ALF?"

Oh going back to the clowns, I discovered something scarier than clowns. Getting lost in the woods at night. Guess how I made that discovery? Well it's probably my fault, a squirrel tried to crawl up my pant leg and I ran screaming from my camp buddy (we're supposed to go everywhere in pairs) into the woods. I probably would have never found my way back in the dark if it wasn't for the weird lightning. I call it weird lightning because there was no thunder or rain. And it didn't really flash across, it just kind of hung there. But it was lights in the sky, so it must have been lightning right?

The large hulking figure stepped forward roaring with laughter. The light grew brighter and everything----the boy, the figure, even the forest vanished within it.

Thanks for the letter you sent me. It meant/means a lot to me. Coming back home will definitely be the best moment of my life. (Can you guess why?) Just so you know, I don't go out and make friends with every person I see. (Especially not those who throw acorns at me. Which is lots of people) When I look for a friend I look for something special, like the specialness I like about you. You've got so much more specialness than everyone in this camp it's not even funny. So you don't need to worry. I'll never forget about you! Because that would be impossible, Kim Possible HA!

You never know how much of a best friend someone is until you are far away from them. I got to get going. Talk to you soon. Miss you like crazy. Take it easy KP.

Love,
Ron

PS: I forgot to ask my parents in my last letter could you ask them how long has it been since I had a tetanus shot?

The light faded. The dark woods returned. The creatures of the night resumed their nocturnal tasks and the leaves rustled in the wind

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Middleton Colorado

July 15, 1992 3:30 PM

Kim was laying on the couch with her legs flung over the back and her head hanging odd the edge . Her hair almost brushed the floor as she swished it back and forth.

"Mooooooooooommmm!"

Anne Possible rushed into the living room and her eyes fell upon her daughter.

"Kim, what have I said about lying upside down?"

"No time" Kim blurted out. Then she pointed at the television screen a few feet from the couch.

Anne sighed as she turned towards the T.V. She was greeted by a thirty second burst of little boys leaping back and forth shouting "cool" and "awesome" followed by a man in a brown rat costume staring at the camera and inquiring if the viewer "was ready to be a fierce fighter of freakish foes?"

Anne turned towards her daughter. "Um?"

"It's the Ferret Claw!"

"And?"

The ten year old sighed as well. "Fearless Ferret is Ron's favorite hero. We need to get him the claw as a welcome home present!"

"Oh."

Anne smiled the pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place. Her daughter had been getting increasingly jumpy as the day of her best friend's return rapidly approached. She reflected on it and conceded that getting the boy a welcome back gift was a very sweet idea.

"I'll think about it, only if you learn to sit properly." She announced.

Kim groaned out loud before maneuvering her body around. She sat up straight and stared expectantly at her mother.

"Now when is Ron supposed to return?"

Grinning Kim reached into the folds of the couch and pulled out worn and torn calendar. She held it up and even being half way across the room Anne could see the bright red circle around a particular date. Kim held the calendar out to her mother; Anne quickly moved to receive it.

"Hmmm, doesn't look like we have much time," she said after looking down at the date. "If we hurry we can get to the mall in……"

Kim gleefully applauded her mother's decision. She had just hopped off the couch when someone coughed in the room. Both female Possible's turned towards the source of the noise. Neither had noticed when James Possible had arrived but his very presence now seemed to overpower everything else in the room. He cleared his throat once again to break the seemingly long silence that had lasted but a few seconds.

"Anne, can I speak to you in the kitchen for a moment?"

Kim watched her parents curiously as they walked away from her. She wasn't sure, but she thought she caught a glimpse of her father looking back at her before he pushed through the kitchen doors. But Kim brushed the atmosphere off and returned to her upside down position. Hopefully she mused her mother wouldn't forget about their trip to the mall.

Fifteen or so minutes later both Possibles reentered the room hand in hand. Their eyes traveled from the floor then back to their daughter. Without her mother's lecturing Kim fixed her seating position. Something was wrong. Something was off about the vibes in the room.

"Kim," her father said. "We need to talk."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Saskatchewan, Canada

August 5, 1992 9: 30 AM

The four horsemen rode abreast through the forest. Four steely eyed men with frightful determination on their faces. Proudly they wore their distinctive Red Serge, which consisted of a high collared scarlet tunic, midnight blue breeches with yellow leg strip, brown riding boots, brown gloves and a brown flat brimmed Stetson hat. They were known worldwide as fearsome, incorruptible, dogged yet gentle champions of the law. They were the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, AKA "The Mounties."

"Here's what I'm saying," said one rider. "They say we always get our man right? Well how are we supposed to get our man, if there is no man?"

"Only the fool complains during peace time," said a second man.

"Come on Andrew, I am not asking for World War three. I'm just saying we need some action. Something to make wearing the uniform worth it. I want to feel what the uniform means."

"Even if you get killed Jerry?" Inquired a third Mountie

"Even if I get killed Bill," Jerry replied.

Andrew spat onto the forest floor. "Well we're all on a mission right now. So shut it and focus on work."

Jerry waved his hand in the air dismissively. "Ah some mission, weird lights in the sky, it was probably a rainbow."

"At night?"

"Aurora Borealis then."

Unbeknown to the others the fourth member of the group had ridden up ahead during their conversation. They only became aware of the situation when he returned to the group in full gallop.

"What's the problem Ace?" Jerry said when he saw the excitement on the man's face.

"You fellows are not going to believe this."

He turned himself around and wordlessly the group followed him. They marched through a clearing to discover a bowl shaped depression in the forest floor. The crater was at least 15 meters wide in diameter. The soil contained within was darker than usual and bare of any sign on vegetation.

"What in the world?" Jerry muttered.

"You think that's strange," Ace exclaimed. He pointed to the middle of the crater. "Look."

All eyes followed his finger and fell on the small boy with no clothes on, covered in mud and dead leaves huddled in the fetal position.

"Is the job too boring for you now Jerry?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"How is the boy doctor?"

Ace, Jerry, Bill and Andrew surrounded the anxious doctor. It had been a few days since they had delivered the boy to the hospital. After reporting to their superiors the very next day the four men were ordered to be discreet about their discovery. Even with their misgivings about the circumstances surrounding the child's discovery, they couldn't help but be worried about his well being.

They brought the boy clothing and toys but whenever they visited he had been asleep. The nurses remarked that the boy had spent most of his time since his admittance fast asleep. They remarked having rarely seen this level of weariness in a child.

"Well compared to normal children his age, he's physical fine," the doctor informed them. "No sign of any diseases or any trauma to his body."

"So he's doing well? Jerry asked.

"Well." The doctor removed his glasses and sighed. "We did a CAT scan and it revealed irregularities in his long-term memory centers, and……we can't even begin to explain how it happened, or how to treat him."

"What are you saying?" Frank asked.

"I'm saying, prior to you all bringing him in… he doesn't remember anything… at all about his life."

"He's got amnesia?" Ace said in wonderment.

"Retrograde amnesia….very advanced. But there's no sign of injury or brain trauma. His memory…for the lack of a better phrase has been wiped clean."

The four officers of the law glanced worriedly at each other. They had found the boy naked with no sort of I.D on him. The missing children reports so far didn't have anything that matched the boy's description. And with the gag order against talking to the press, things were getting much more complicated than they could have imagined.

"What are we going to do now?"

"Now you leave the boy to me," a gruff voice called out.

An older man with graying hair, wearing a long brown trench coat approached them. The smell from the cigarette that he was smoking reached them before he did.

"The boy is in my custody now."

"Who are you?" Jerry asked.

Still in stride the man pulled his hand from his coat and flashed a badge. "Joe" he said simply before brushing past the four men and the doctor.

The fair headed boy was staring at the ceiling when the man named Joe walked into the room. He looked the boy over.

"What's your name kid?"

The boy turned to him with a blank expression on his face. He shrugged lightly before his eyes began to glisten.

Joe took in a deep breath. "Wrap it up doctor; I'm taking this one to go."

"What?" The doctor stammered. "But he's not…."

"He's coming with me" He proclaimed before flashing his badge again. "Pack up a lunch for him as well. He's got a long ride ahead of him."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Middleton, Colorado

April 3, 1993 11 AM

She tried not to be sad anymore. But no matter what, something in her memory brought tears to Kim's eyes. The typical reaction was for her to bury her face in her pillow, and weep until she tired of it. After wiping the tears from her red eyes this very morning Kim made her way downstairs. She discovered her parents standing by a living room window. They were whispering to each other which made it apparent that they hadn't noticed their daughter's arrival. As Kim inched closer she began to pick up on their conversation, even though much of it was beyond her understanding.

"Health code violations… they found some clothes by the lake. Everyone is assuming he… it might be too large to drain… felony reckless endangerment of minors… class action civil suit… doesn't bring their son back… you can see how much it hurts them… I don't blame them… I couldn't live in that house with all those memories… yes but isn't it just a tad impulsive… to just pack up and leave without telling anyone? Without telling us! … It makes sense they're moving, cut all ties, it must hurt too much…"

The word "moving" echoed in Kim's mind. The Possible's turned away from the window just in time to see their daughter rush out the door. Hot renewed tears ran down Kim's face as she rushed into the Stoppable front yard. Mr. Stoppable was helping his wife load a few boxes into the back of their minivan, when Kim slammed into the lower half of his body. She wiped her tear soaked face against his midsection.

"You can't leave; if you leave Ron can't find his way back home."

Mr. Stoppable glanced at his wife and she began to tear up. He turned back to Kim, a sad look in his eyes.

"He can't come home if there's no home to come back to!" She cried out loud. "He isn't gone! He will come back! I know he will!" Then crying into Mr. Stoppable's shirt she whispered, "He's, he's my best friend, forever. Why, why?"

The moment that passed seemed like an eternity, neither adult knew what to say or to do.

Mr. Stoppable had opened his mouth to speak when Kim felt a pair of hands on her shoulders. James Possible apologized to the Stoppables, wished them well and pulled his daughter away by the hand. She struggled against her father and shouted out to Mr. Stoppable who gazed down at the floor. They're giving up Kim thought. They were all giving up. Not once in her short life had "giving up" not been synonymous to losing.

Anne was waiting on the porch where Mr. Possible sat his daughter down and explained. Explaining why they were all giving up, though Kim was too distraught to understand fully. She was still wiping away tears when Mrs. Stoppable appeared. She handed Kim a paper that was mostly coated in mud excluding bits of the bottom portion.

"This was found in the woods." She said. "It's the last thing we have from Ron, but you should have it. It was addressed to you."

Kim accepted the letter. Much of it was unreadable. However she could make up just a few lines.

You never know how much of a best friend someone is until you are far away from them. I got to get going. Talk to you soon. Miss you like crazy. Take it easy KP.

Love,
Ron

Kim swiped at the back of her eyes wondering if it would always hurt this much.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Toronto, Canada

June 15, 1993 10:45 PM

The television blared loudly as Joe leaned back into the grooves of his couch. His seemingly focused on the T.V but his mind soon wandered back into the not to distant past. The strange readings in the sky above the area where the ten year old John Doe had been recovered had caught the attention of a top secret Canadian intelligence organization. They then sent their best agent to investigate. Though he had taken the unusual job with much reluctance, he rationalized it as a simple assignment that would ease him towards the path of retirement.

Joe's eyes shifted from the television when he heard movement coming from another room. It was a small apartment and with his trained hearing not much would get by without him knowing. He listened for a moment before returning his attention to the television.

If you factor in what they did with very limited funding, the Canadian spy organization was likely one of the best in the world. However a recession had hit the country hard and budget cuts had to be made. The organization simply did not have enough lab space to house the boy for long. And with a severe case of amnesia the boy hadn't given them much information. Surprising the top brass and himself, Joe petitioned for permanent custody over the boy. The child would live out his life under his supervision, all the while undergoing additional tests. He got his wish, and was praised for his dedication to his work. Though the truth of the matter was the boy with no identity had grown on him. Losing large if not most of your memory would likely have crushed a grown man, but the kid, he appeared to have come out of the event emotionally stable. It happened to be that the boy was very odd, but Joe did not believe that to have been a product of any trauma. There was a subtle inner strength to the boy that really intrigued the old veteran.

He turned away from breaking news coverage just in time to see the child walk into the room with a small doll in hand. Joe recalled when the boy had caught sight of the doll at a garage sale. He had taken notes as the child had stared curiously at the doll for a long period of time before requesting for it to be purchased. It was one of the many strange occurrences he had with the kid.

"Nightmares again boy?"

He nodded. "Yeah… and don't call me boy, call me Little Joe."

Joe snorted. "How many times have I told you, your name is not "Little Joe!"

"What is my name then?"

"How should I know?" Joe exclaimed.

"Then why can't I be called "Little Joe?"

"Because it's… it's just… it's just wrong." Joe sputtered.

"Why?"

Joe sighed. "So what did you dream about?"

Little Joe shrugged before crawling onto the couch. "The usual, scary stuff, big green guys… scary stuff."

Joe chewed on this tidbit. Something like that probably should have been added to his reports he mused. Though truth be told, he probably should have reported something this past year.

Joe returned to the news coverage. "Hey boy."

"Little Joe."

Joe grunted in response. "You see this news coverage."

Ron eyed the television. On the screen there was a politician pounding at his fist against a podium. Seated behind him was a single row of supporters applauding enthusiastically.

"Yeah but it's boring, you don't mind if I change the channel do you?"

"Test time kid."

This time it was Little Joe's time to sigh. "Not again."

Joe's arm whipped out quickly and covered the little boy's eyes with his palm.

"Joe, I don't wanna…"

"How many men were seated in that row?" the man asked.

"Child services would love this."

"How many?" Joe repeated. "Oh and, whether or not fudge cake Fridays continues, depends heavily on how well you do right now."

"Oh man……..There are seven guys." Little Joe declared,

"Good……How many hats?"

"Ugh, come on, Joe!

"You want those cakes right? How many hats?"

"Four…."

"You know better, you got to describe them."

"Ugh... There are five hats… two baseball caps from middle aged guys, one red cap, one blue cap, the red one is of a hockey team the blue is of a baseball team… I think… I don't know much about baseball …the guy with the eye patch is wearing a top hat." Little Joe paused briefly to laugh. "He looks a little like Mr. Peanut."

"Go on."

"The last one is an old lady with a straw hat with a bunch of tiny flower petals and a lion on it."

"Good work," Joe said as he pulled his hand away from the boy's face.

"Thank you!" the boy exhaled. "Why do I have to do this every day?"

"Because it's good for you."

"How?"

"Well for one it can be applied to all aspects of life. Heck women want men who pick up every small details. They love it. It's about tuning into people, getting inside their heads and anticipating their needs…and desires."

Joe glanced over at the blond boy who stared blankly at him. "Hey while you're in my house, you're going to do the work the school gives you and you're going to do the work I give you."

"But I already get homework!"

"Some more work won't kill you and besides… I mean… hey you're sharpening your mind too. If you train your mind you might get your memories back."

The boy closed his eyes and reopened them a beat or so later. Before leaning over and nestling his head against a couch pillow.

"If I get my memory back, will I know who am I?"

"I'm pretty sure that's how it works."

The reality of the situation was, the boy did not necessarily need his memories to regain his identity. It was something Joe had been considering more and more in the recent weeks. The organization's initial search of the boy's background had come up with nothing. However there was no question they could have dug deeper if they cared. It was a rare thing for someone to go completely off the grid. The boy was someone's son, he was a family member, he was likely a friend, or at the very least an acquaintance. Joe looked over at the resting form with the red headed doll clutched under his arm. He concluded certain favors would have to be called in.

"Aren't you a little too old to be playing with dolls?"

"I am," Little Joe replied.

"So?" Joe gestured to the doll in the boy's embrace.

"This isn't a doll, this an action figure," the child claimed.

"Ah," Joe said as he chuckled to himself.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Middleton, Colorado

July 9, 1995 5 AM

It was the first light of dawn when a jogger spotted them shuffling past the entrance of the city park hand in hand. Recognition of the boy came immediately, it was the fourth day since the boy had gone missing and his face had been plastered all over the newspapers. The jogger rushed towards a nearby patrolman and alerted him to the situation. By the time the morning sun had illuminated the sky, the law had picked up thirteen year old Kim Possible and the little boy she had in tow.

"What is your connection to the Treadle boy?" The chief detective asked. He was a big intimidating man but as he stood before the girl seated across from his desk, his broad shoulders were clearly slumped.

"I'm his babysitter," Kim stated. "I've earned a reputation babysitting difficult kids."

The chief detective traded looks with the patrolman.

"What?" He exclaimed.

"Start from the beginning." The patrolman told Kim.

Kim inhaled and exhaled deeply. "Four nights ago I got a phone call at home from Mrs. Treadle. She's a long time client. It was an emergency request to watch her daughter, Lauren. I got a little suspicious about this since the Treadle's were always a packaged deal. Lauren and her younger brother Alex. I asked if he was okay, and Mrs. Treadle started crying. She told me about how Alex had gone missing, about how nobody knew where he went but the janitor had found Alex's lunch box, and it contained a note for the Treadle's. So the cops… you guys were already involved but Mrs. and Mr. Treadle wanted to spend a few hours at the police department. They didn't have any family nearby and so they wanted me to take care of Lauren."

"Get to the point little lady," the chief detective muttered under his breath.

"Um, OK," Kim nodded. "The next morning I started the investigation."

"Investigation?" The detective exclaimed.

"Old Bill," Kim blurted out suddenly.

"Who the heck is old Bill?"

"All the kids know about Old Bill in the neighborhood. He's this really old guy who according to the rumors lives in the park in a tree house that was built by some kids a long time ago. Anyway you can see him talking to himself and collecting soda cans around the school most days of the week. He smells like beer."

"You know what beer smells like?" The patrolman asked.

"I know what old bill smells like," Kim replied with a grin.

"The point!" the chief detective declared.

"Old Bill sees everything, at least that's what he says… at least that's what he told me. Sometimes when you treat him nicely, like if you give him canned food or something…." Kim glanced at the patrolman. "I gave him some for thanksgiving last year. Most kids are afraid of him but he's actually a nice guy, y'know."

The patrolman smiled back at her. "A good girl."

"When you do something nice for Bill, he'll tell you a secret about the neighborhood, even if you didn't ask. That's his reward, you can't escape it. He'll tell you who egged the principle's car, or who let his dog use Mr. Tidbit's lawn like a bathroom. You'd ask Bill how he knows all these things and he'll tell you he sees everything."

Kim paused for a moment before continuing. "It was long shot but I had to try, I found Bill sleeping on a bench in the park. I asked him if he saw anything strange by the school yesterday. It took a long time, and a few bags of potato chips for him to remember but eventually he told me he almost got hit by a beat up gray VW van that burning rubber away from the school around the time Mrs. Treadle said her son had gone missing."

"Why didn't you tell anybody about this?" the chief detective shouted.

"I did, I called the Treadles, and I told Mr. Treadle before I continued the investigation."

"We didn't get…"

The room grew silent. The chief detective shot the patrolman a look and to Kim's surprise the man quickly sped out of the room.

"Keep going," the detective said.

"Since there was a note left behind I assumed that at least they hadn't left the state or the country you know. They must be asking for a ransom and they were probably close by. I called all my clients, and I have a lot of parent clients, and asked them to keep a look out for the van. I even posted something on my website, followed by some mass emails. I caught a break two nights ago. Mr. Martin, Jake and Johnny's Martin's dad... He works nights at the Super Mini Mart and he left a message on my site that someone who had shopped there had just hopped into a van that looked like what I described."

"Did you tell Mr. Treadle about this?"

Kim shook his head. "Nope, when I read the message that morning I just hopped on my bike and rode… I guess I didn't think about it."

"No, you didn't, you were reckless. Still, finish the story."

Kim sniffed and continued, "The guy brought toilet paper."

The detective waited for the significance of this statement.

"Would you drive a long way just to buy toilet paper?" Kim asked. "That's what I thought, so for the entire day I pedaled up and down the streets around the Super Mini Mart. Night came, and I'd almost given up when I saw it… just drive by. It wasn't moving that fast, I guess it wasn't trying to draw attention by speeding. So I followed it. Luckily no one inside the car noticed. I followed the van through the park and to a house in Springfield Blvd. I waited across the street for like a long time just watching and then I snuck around peeking into the windows just to see how many people were in the house. It looked like there was only one."

"So what did you do then?"

"I rang the doorbell."

"Are you serious?" The detective said skeptically.

Kim nodded. "I rang it a lot, eventually he opened the door."

"And?"

"I kicked him," Kim said simply.

"You kicked him?!"

"I study martial arts. It's my hobby."

The detective glanced up at the heavens and muttered something under his breath.

"To be specific, I kicked him in the um … it was the hardest kick I ever executed. My sifu would have been proud if y'know, he didn't stress having a nonviolent approach."

"Did he attack you?"

"He just crumpled like a sack of flour with a whimper… I searched the house and found Alex in the basement, and then we escaped."

The room grew quiet as the chief detective as the detective plopped himself onto the chair beside his desk. Eventually the silence was broken when the patrolman reentered the room.

"I pressed Mr. Treadle on it and it seems that the little girl's info had slipped his mind… Because of the grief, he was too busy mourning."

The hint of sarcasm in the man's voice was obvious to Kim and the detective.

"Mrs. Treadle's father is a wealthy venture capitalist…." The detective announced more to himself than to anyone else in the room.

"Sir if I recall, Mr. Treadle lost his job earlier this year, he was a public defender…" The patrolman's voice trailed off. "Also the ransom asked was way more than the Treadle's themselves had."

Kim and the detective's eyes met before he turned back to the patrolman. "We can discuss our theories at a more appropriate time. I'd like to finish my chat with Little Miss reckless here."

Kim wilted under the detective's gaze as the patrolman walked out. "Little lady, you do realize you're part in all this is over."

"Yes I do."

"You do realize how reckless you've been?"

"Yes Sir."

"You put your life and the little boy's life in tremendous danger!"

"I'm sorry."

"I've got your parent's out there bawling their eyes out wondering where their little girl has been!"

Kim's gaze lowered to the ground. The detective leaned deeper into his seat. "You made all the wrong moves today. But I give credit when it is due. You saved that boy. Things could have gone so wrong but thankfully it didn't, and so you're a hero."

Kim looked back up at the detective with a thin smile. "Thank you."

"Here's my question though. When you found the hideout why didn't you call us?"

"Well I think…it's just that…..I don't….trust…." Kim paused and bit down on her bottom lip. "It's hard to explain."

"Explain what?"

Kim opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself. She then sat back and considered her words carefully. The thing is I know that …at least…I….I know for sure I won't give up."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Toronto, California

September 2, 1995 7 AM

"I'm not sure I can do this."

"Hmmmm?" Joe mumbled to himself as he and his teen-aged "temporarily adopted" son stood before the entrance of the airport terminal.

"I can't go, I don't know these people." The teen stated.

Joe lit up a cigarette and took a deep drag from it. "They're Mr. and Mrs. Stoppable, they're currently living in Boca Raton Florida, they've got good credit and a fine yet isolated ranch house with white picket fences. But more importantly they're your parents. DNA proves it"

"They're my parent's, right, but am I their son?"

Joe's face scrunched up in confusion. "What part of DNA did you not understand the D, the N, or the A?"

Joe had explained everything to the boy weeks ago when he finally located the Stoppables. The intentions behind the adoption, the tests, who his parents really where; everything, as little as it was, that Joe knew had been revealed. The boy was fairly shocked, and he was even a tad apprehensive to the idea that he was an American. But it made sense, no one in Canada in had any idea that he had existed prior to his discovery a few years ago. Joe had told the boy that whenever he felt ready, there was a plane ticket ready to take him back to his family. Today was the day of his departure or so Joe had thought.

"I don't remember them or anything about my past life. When I saw their picture I saw strangers. They have memories of who their son was, what he liked, what he disliked, his dreams and desires. I don't have any clue who I was or how I acted back them. What if they expect their son back Joe, I don't know how to be that. I know how to be little Joe not Ronald Stoppable."

Joe blew out a puff of smoke. "So what? Are you doing them a favor by never letting them see the son they lost? I'm sure the fact that you might not remember you like strawberry pancakes won't negate the fact their long lost son is alive in well……"

"Joe I…I never thought about it like that"

Joe flicked his cigarette and stomped on it. "Well you're an idiot. I don't doubt you always were."

He pulled a pack pocket and pulled out another cigarette. "Boy, I will not tell you what to do. Honestly I've grown accustomed to you. I mean who else is going to mow my lawn during the weekends? But the problem is, every other morning you get out of bed with that 'who am I?' look, and it just kills any morning buzz I might have had."

Joe placed the cigarette in his lips and let it hang there while he stared blankly at the terminal. "Now you can stay and continue on as-"

"Little Joe," the teen interrupted.

Joe glowered at him before continuing, "Or you can go back to America and find out what Ronald Stoppable is all about."

The veteran spy smiled proudly when his adopted son nodded slowly. "You're right, I have to figure this all out. I wouldn't be able to live with myself without knowing."

Snapping his lighter open Joe brought the flame to the tip of his cigarette. "Good, now get your ass on that plane."

The young boy stepped forward before stopping."You think I can do it Joe? Figure it all out?"

"You'd better….Or else I really wasted my time drilling my vast resource of cloak and dagger knowledge into your pea brain."

Joe closed his eyes closed as he chuckled to himself before letting out a deep sigh. When he reopened his eyes the boy was one step away from entering the terminal.

"Hey little Joe…."

The boy stopped mid-step.

"I mean Ron Stoppable….." Joe blurted out.

He turned towards Joe.

"Above all, take care of yourself. And find yourself a nice girlfriend already."

Before Ron could reply, Joe had turned on his heels and hastily marched down the block.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Washington, D.C.

January 2 2003 8:45 PM

It was a relatively small room. Not even half the size of the meeting room for AA but at least it wasn't as small as the "Help, I'm addicted to work" club room.

Soft music bounced across the walls as paired off group members hugged and whispered to each other in emotional tones. Near the entrance there was a sign on a stand that read "Paranormal support group: Otherworldly ties keep us connected and strong."

The hushed talks and bouts of uncontrollable weeping came to an abrupt end when a man stepped up to a lectern in the middle of the room and addressed the members. The speaker had pale skin and sunken eyes, though when compared to almost everyone else in the room, he appeared to be vibrant and full of life.

"We have a newcomer in our midst. So to begin tonight's communion, John would like to say a few words."

Taking the lectern was John, a man who looked twice as miserable and sickly as the speaker. He smiled back at the speaker, but his tired eyes and the crow's feet in their corners told a different the story.

John leaned into the lectern's microphone. "My name is John Hunt and though I don't think it can be considered paranormal…My story is, I'm the victim of mind control."

A murmur of whispers went through the crowd. It was a somewhat positive response so John continued.

"That's right, mind control, or psychotropic terror. I can understand if you're skeptical about it. But the bottom line is agents of the government are using secret technology to broadcast hostile voices into my head and cause me pain via waves of electromagnetic radiation."

Suddenly John groaned and grabbed his head. He doubled over in pain. The room went silent. Eventfully John would take a deep breath, straighten up and wipe the sweat off his fore head with his sleeve.

"I'm fine," He sighed. "This happens rather often. I've learned online that there are thousands of people like me suffering with same problem."

He rubbed his temples in circular motions with his middle and index fingers. "Problem is no one believes me."

"That's not true!" Someone shouted from the back of the room. All eyes turned to Ron as he jumped up from his seat in the back of the room and marched forward to the lectern. In his enthusiastic haste he almost tripped over three different pairs of feet, but in the end he managed to reach the John without being knocked completely off balance. After smoothing out his dark suit and his tie he gingerly took control of the microphone from John.

"Guys, my name is Ronald Stoppable, formerly known as "little Joe." I don't remember any part of my life before I woke up naked and alone in the Canadian woods. In addition I have weird but brief nightmares featuring nano-second flashes of armored hulking figures in green. But that's not why I'm here."

"I'm here to be motivated. I do my best…. Well, any work really… when I'm motivated and focused. And what is my motivation you ask?" Ron pointed at the group members. "You guys."

The group members responded with incredulous looks but Ron continued to smile. "You guys are my motivation. I'm here for you. See I've profiled you, I know you didn't ask to be profiled, I apologize, but it's something that was drilled into me, among other techniques a child shouldn't need, by my surrogate father. Now I profile all the time, even when I don't want to…..I profile I deduct, induct, whatever….it's what I do I can't turn it off….Though I try not to by watching lots and lots of cable television…."

The room went silent.

"Anyway I've profiled you all, against your and my will; I've heard your stories, I've looked into your eyes, I've analyzed your words and actions, I glimpse from you the echoes of truth that blossom forth every time I look into a mirror!"

"Except for you Bob," Ron pointed at the front row. "You're obviously lying for attention. But the rest of you, I believe you."

He continued to point. "Kasey I feel your pain. Though waking up naked in the woods is probably not on par with wandering the streets of the city in only your pajama bottoms, I'm still on your wavelength. And don't stop painting girlfriend, I'm sure those vivid yet abstract blobs of green immersed in colorful lights mean something."

"Frank you were born in 1870 that's freaky. But because of that eerie smoke that enveloped you in 1905 you're now in our time. And I know iPods freak you out, but dude you're over a hundred and you don't look a day over thirty. The silver lining Frank, embrace it."

He turned to John. "I know you've got a beef with the government but we're not all that bad. Someday things will change and we'll be helping you I know we will."

"We?" John muttered.

"Oh right, that's probably a little premature. I can't really say I'm part of the, 'The Man', until I've passed the written exam this afternoon. Don't count your chickens right? Knock on wood No Jinx."

Ron checked his watch. "Oh I better get moving or I'll be late for said test…. OK folks, my motivation, I leave you with the words of a classic song, 'there are only two kinds of truth. Let's get it straight from the start. It's all what you believe baby in your head and in your heart'."

Ron slapped his hands onto the lectern. "Guys, I want to believe…."

He pounded his chest with his fist three times before kissing his fingers and then throwing up the peace sign. "Ron Stoppable, seeker of truth, soon to be at your service."

He left the members with their confusion as he turned quickly and marched out of the room

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Middleton, Colorado

December 18, 2005 8:45 PM

The brisk and biting wind caused the former detective now captain to shiver lightly. Once the rendezvous was over the first thing he would do is finally put his promotion money to good use, and buy himself a nice coat. Hearing footsteps behind him the Captain turned around and found a woman standing right in front of him.

He remembered when she was just a reckless teen.

She smiled, "Congratulations on your promotion Captain."

"Ah well it's not a big deal…it's not like I didn't get some help every now and then."

Kim continued to smile.

"Enough about me, what about you? Is that criminal justice degree coming anytime?"

The book bag that Kim had been carrying across her shoulders hit the floor. She reached down and unzipped it.

"Actually I got the degree awhile ago, part of a double major including biology." Kim replied casually as she dug through her bag.

"Fantastic. What are you doing now?"

Kim removed a sharpie and a folded map from her bag. She began to slowly unfold the map. "Currently you could say I'm in medical school."

The captain chuckled. This girl, no this woman, would never cease to amaze him.

"I can't even call you ambitious; it's not a strong enough word."

Kim unfurled the map of the city before dotting various sections of it.

"Let me get one thing across right now Miss Medical School. None of this 'civilian arrest–wannabe Batman-stuff' this time. I'm putting my foot down on that issue."

Kim continued pressing dots against the map. "I promise this time I won't interfere, I'm actually falling behind on my schoolwork anyway, so I can't. That being said I think I got a huge break on the winter bomber case."

"I'm shocked!" The captain exclaimed sarcastically. "A strange world we're in, when a civilian and not the dozens of experienced officers working around the clock cracks a case."

Making no sign that she had heard his crack Kim continued. "So let's start back at that first incident that occurred on the first day of November. In the middle of the night someone spray painted the phrase, 'Hell vow I', on the doorway to the mayor's office before blowing up a nearby mail box that was apparently stuffed with toys…."

The Captain nodded; if asked he would easily admit that this entire ordeal was the strangest situation he'd ever seen in all his years on the force. After the first incident a month ago every three days a mailbox, a parked car, or a trashcan exploded in some random location in the city. The casualties had been surprisingly low, mostly due to the fact that much of the bombs had gone off at night. His gut feeling though, was that this pattern would not last forever. The Captain and many others in the department felt that all the initial bombings were nothing more than practice. That and taunts aimed at the police.

"'Hell vow I', is an anagram." Kim said suddenly.

"For what?"

"Whoville."

"What?!!"

"And remember the bombing two weeks ago on Terrance Blvd near Joey's diner. A windshield of a parked car of a retired police officer that lived nearby also has spray paint on it."

"Righteous seeds lose," the Captain said. "That's what it said."

"Another anagram, Kim muttered as she continued to dot the map. "That stands for Theodore Seuss Geisel."

"Dr. Seuss?!!"

"Bingo, Dr Seuss plus Whoville…you've got a wannabe Grinch on your hands Captain."

The captain blinked rapidly at her before speaking again. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I wish," Kim scoffed. "It didn't make sense to me at first but there's a pattern. Do you see these marked dots?"

Kim showed the officer the map. "Each dot represents the location of where a bomb went off."

The Captain surveyed the locations and nodded.

"Now look what happens when I connect the dots like this." Kim went to work with the sharpie. "Bear with me… this might seem… a little nutty…."

"It went beyond nutty when the first bomb went off."

Kim finished and handed the map to the captain. He looked down at what appeared to be the outline of a tree. He glanced at the map, then at Kim, then back at the map.

"Are…are you serious?"

"Unfortunately……yes"

He placed his hand against Kim's forehead. "Feeling well?"

"I double checked my temperature right before this meeting. Seuss, Whoville, the Christmas tree pattern on the map…..There's a connection."

"An insane connection." Using his thumb and forefinger the captain massaged his forehead. "Listen kid you can't win them all, me and the boys will figure something out…

"Wait before you give up on my theory hear me out. What goes on top of a tree?"

The captain sighed with exasperation. "A star?"

Kim hastily drew a star at the top of the Christmas tree outline. "Do you see the location of the star?"

The captain stared down at the map. The star was located right over the recently built super mall.

"Christmas…the super mall…this time of the year it'll be packed. That's probably his main target; the rest of the stuff is practice"

She caught the captain's gaze. "This is all an assumption of course, but this guy is a Christmas freak. And if I'm wrong thank goodness, but if I'm right… I am sure that you sense that all these initial bombings are nothing more than practice. It wouldn't hurt anyone to set up a few eyes and maybe some traps at the mall during shopping hours. There is a mad bomber loose in the city and extra precautions are necessary Captain."

Kim watched anxiously as he paced back and forth before her.

Eventually he snorted loudly and turned to face her. "And if I don't follow through with this I'm sure you will."

Kim brushed a strand of hair from her face. "I am prepared to drop a course or two. I can make it up over the summer."

The captain shook his head. "How come you didn't become a cop? You would make one hell of detective."

A tinge of red came to Kim's cheeks. "Well I never thought I… I am comfortable with the set up we have now but… I don't know I just, I just want to help."

"Is that right?" The captain smiled.

"Besides," Kim shrugged. "Like I said Medical school."

"You're right kid. Who has ever heard of a part time cop going through medical school?"

Before Kim could reply he continued. "But I know some guys who might not mind such an arrangement."

The captain placed his hand in the air. Immediately a parked suburban across the street came to life.

"Wish you could have been in my department kid, but Que sera sera."

"Uh, what's going on?" Kim inquired.

"Listen I'm going to run this past some of my boys. In the meantime you can keep my friends company."

"Um…what is--"

The shiny suburban stopped on a dime before Kim. Two men in black suits and dark sun glasses stepped out. Kim looked towards the Captain but he was already half way down the block.

"Miss Possible it's a pleasure to finally meet you." The youngest and baldest of the men stated.

Having been genuinely unnerved by this mysterious run in Kim looked from one man to the other. "I'd hate to be rude. But who are you guys and what do you what?"

"We are two men who have become very impressed with you." The second man declared. "And we would like to talk to you about your future prospects."

He reached into his vest. Grinning broadly he flashed Kim a badge. She quickly read the inscription and found herself impressed.

On the top of the badge the words Federal Bureau of Investigation were boldly inscribed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Washington, D.C.

May, 2009 9:15 AM

Kim was bringing the spoon up to her mouth when another agent stood before her booth. It was her lunch hour; she was in the cafeteria and had just gotten into a nice rhythm with her black bean soup when he arrived. She didn't like people interrupting her lunch. But her irritation soon dissipated when he handed her a note.

"You know they could have emailed it to me…or maybe called?" Kim called after the agent as he walked away.

She pushed her lunch aside and read the letter.

"Your attendance is required in Washington at 1500 hours sharp. Contact Special Agent Martin."

Orders from above no doubt. Well, she would be there; perhaps she would even show up early. She had a mind of her own but she obeyed her orders to the letter. That's what made her the agent the F.B.I liked best. It's what had gotten her this far.

At exactly fifteen to three Kim was at the F.B.I headquarters. She flashed the receptionist her badge. "I'm here for my appointment with---"

"Agent Possible," a gravelly voice said behind her. "You're here early, as expected."

She turned to face a large, scar faced man. He appeared to be in his 50s. Kim was not familiar with the man but she could guess who he was.

"Martin," he said before she could say a word. "Follow me."

He led her down a long and empty hallway. Having never been in this part of the Bureau, Kim attempted to take in as much as she could. That is she would have taken in all she could, if the only thing to look at wasn't wall paper and the cold marble floor.

"Is there a problem?" she asked.

"You're here for a very high level interview," Martin said. "Are you game for it?"

"Of course."

Martin ushered her through two sets of double doors. Coming through the last door she entered a conference room. Inside three men sat around an oval table, their eyes went right to Kim. Most of them looked to be in there 60s, Kim knew Bureau top brass when she saw them.

"Agent Possible please take a seat," Jones said. Kim took a seat at the table and Jones remained standing behind her.

Once she took her seat Kim finally noticed a fourth man in the room. He leaned against a file cabinet in the back room, and he had the long end of a lollipop sticking out of his mouth.

The man who spoke first looked to be the oldest one in the room. Though he was old he still had a hard steely gaze.

"Agent Possible, thank you for coming on such short notice."

"My pleasure," Kim replied.

"Now Agent Possible we see you've been with us for two very impressive years now."

"Yes sir."

"Now it's my understanding that you have an undergraduate degree in criminal justice and biology. You then graduated medical school. But you chose not to practice. Why is that?"

"Well, sir, I was recruited out of medical school. I thought about it for awhile but I came to see the F.B.I. as a place where I could distinguish myself and do some good. When I graduated I completed my residency here while completing my Academy training and then working full time."

The three men at the table leafed through thick folders. For a long while the only sound in the room was paper rustling. Eventually they exchanged furtive glances and nods. The man with the lollipop walked around to behind the first speaker and leaned against the wall.

Then a second man suddenly asked, "Are you familiar with the name Ronald Stoppable?"

The name blew through the guard Kim had placed since her meeting with Agent Martin. Her mind blanked for a moment before distant memories began to trickle into her head.

Kim shook it off.

A coincidence she thought. Strange things like this happened all the time. In college she had run into a woman named Erin who was eerily similar to herself.

"Can you repeat that sir?

"Are you familiar with an agent named, Ronald Stoppable?" The second man repeated.

"I can't say that I am."

"What about the name, weirdo Ron?" The first man declared.

Kim nodded. "Vaguely, I believe I've heard the name in passing at the Academy."

Martin cleared his throat. "I assure you that Ronald Stoppable; while he may have… a few unorthodox professional methods… and unusual personal conduct… he is a very capable agent. He graduated from the University of Florida with a degree in psychology and a minor in sociology."

"From the University of Florida," the third man snorted. "Anyone off the street can graduate from that school."

"Unorthodox professional methods?" Kim stated.

"Agent Stoppable prefers a more human, interpersonal and intuitive set of methods."

"He applied through the website," the third veteran declared.

Martin nodded. "However, the highest score on the written exam in a decade belongs to Agent Stoppable."

"Really?" Kim stated as she attempted to recall her own score.

"He did terrible during the physical test."

"Initially," Martin went on. "However as the test went on he showed remarkable stamina."

The room grew silent.

Martin took in a deep breath. "During Agent Stoppable's first few years his rather astute observational and profiling skills has aided many, many investigations that had once been presumed to have gone cold."

The first man bluntly interrupted him. "Unfortunately, on his own Agent Stoppable has developed a strong…interest…no obsession, a complete obsession with what we call the X Files. Are you familiar with the so called X Files Agent Possible?"

The man with the lollipop glared down at her and Kim locked eyes with him, "Vaguely sir, I believe they have to do with unexplained phenomena."

"Camp fire ghost stories, and the ramblings of the insane." The third man exclaimed.

The first man shot the third a look before returning to Kim. Agent Stoppable insists on continuing the cases in these files. He insists on wasting his time and the Bureau's resources investigating these cases. Suggestions have been made that he takes cases better suited for him, but he tends to ignore them."

Kim nodded as she listened with rapt attention. She could see where this was going.

"Agent Possible, because of your excellent qualifications, you will be partnered with Agent Stoppable in investigating these files. You will write reports of these investigations. You will submit honest…frank reports to this group and this group only."

"If I am to understand my assignment sir, I am to debunk the X Files project?"

"If your reports cast doubt on the X Files, so be it. We can use agent Stoppable's talent elsewhere. Yours as well, being such a great talent that it is. Your career in the Bureau will flourish, but for now we trust you'll make the proper logical analysis. You'll want to contact Agent Stoppable shortly. We look forward to seeing your candid reports."

Kim nodded to her superior. "Yes sir."

The meeting was adjourned and most went their separate ways. Kim waited until she was down a corridor with Martin. Then her curiosity took over and she asked.

"So what is Agent…." The name was harder to say then it should have been. "What is Agent Stoppable really like?"

Martin pursed his lips. "He's strange even by F.B.I standards. But I stand by what I said earlier, he's a highly capable agent when properly motivated."

"Why are they...."Kim glanced over her shoulders.

"Why are they so against Agent Stoppable and the X Files? They have their reasons," Martin replied.

Kim paused for a moment to reflect on whether she found the answer satisfactory. Deciding not to press further and ruffle feathers, Kim shifted her line of questioning. "So why did they choose me?"

Martin spoke without turning towards her. "Besides your impressive qualifications?"

Kim remained silent.

"They didn't choose you, I did." He glanced sideways at Kim. "I knew you would be fair in judgment."

The look told her two things; Martin like the others expected nothing but the truth from her however it seemed he had a different opinion of Stoppable than the others.


A/N That was the prologue folks more to come. This is a work (series)in progress obviously. I'm aiming to balance the X Files atmosphere with KP , it's been a challenge getting that done. But I think I've found a nice mix. For all X Files fans and KP fans if you've got any beefs or suggestions just let me know I'll gladly hear you out. Again thanks to Brother Bludgeon for much of the plot. Read and review.