Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"Tis a visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door.
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was the first of September,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to settle
From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for Kim Possible.
For the radiant maiden whom the angels name Kim Possible,
Nameless here, unchangeable.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each fabric curtain
Thrilled me, filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door —
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; —
This it is, and nothing more."

Edgar Allen Poe - The Raven (Okay, sort of. I edited the lines a little.)
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It was late night at the Possible household, almost midnight. Mr. and Mrs. Possible were asleep in their beds, reliving days and their adventures gone by. Jim and Tim were asleep in their bed, dreaming of the mischief the morrow would bring. rons_gurl was sleeping on the couch in front of the fireplace, sleeping dreamlessly. However, not all was right, for two members of the household were still awake . . .

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Ratigan was sitting on the bed in Kim's old room. Almost instinctively, he raised a finger, and started to trace a pattern in the darkness, and as Ratigan traced it, the shape and outline of Kim Possible slowly formed in the darkness, a light neon green shining in the darkness.

"Why can't I get her out of my mind?", Ratigan asked himself. "I know she's been dead for several months, but I still can't shake the theory that she might still be alive." He pondered the thought, then mentally slapped himself.

"You're dreaming. You saw Kim's body. You saw her die. But why do you still think that she might still be alive?" He had finished tracing the outline of Kim Possible by now, and he stared at it for a moment, recollecting an old bit of wisdom Basil had said once ,"When logic and reasoning fail you, always trust your instincts." Perhaps it was time to take this advice at hand and use it . . .

Suddenly, the window opened up, the wind blowing in, causing the picture to waver and fade away to nothingness. Ratigan sighed, then got up and walked out the doorway. He gingerly stepped down the hallway towards the picture of Kim that her parents had hung up as a memoriam to her. "Why do you still haunt me, Kim? Why?", he asked the picture. Suddenly, a hand tapped him on the shoulder, causing him to wheel around to face . . . . Veeken.

"Are you okay?", she asked, her fear evident.

"Yes, I'm . . . fine", he replied, his voice unsteady.

Veeken turned to the picture, sighed, and then turned to Ratigan. "She's been dead for several months now."

"I know", Ratigan replied. "You wouldn't understand, Veeken. To you, she was like a friend, but to me . . . ", he left off, unable to continue. It still hurt, even though time was supposedly able to heal all wounds. Kim was more like a step-daughter to Ratigan than any of them ever knew up until after she died.

Veeken noted Ratigan's somber look. Ratigan had been like this most of the time since Kim had died, because he blamed himself partially for Kim's death. "Well," she said finally, "I'm going downstairs and try to get some sleep." She headed towards the stairs, then briefly turned back to Ratigan. "Are you sure you're okay?", she reiterated.

"Yeah.", Ratigan replied a monotone. "This is serious." Veeken thought. "As long as I've known him, he's rarely said "Yeah". It was usually "Yes"." She turned back to the staircase, only stopping to say "Good night, dad."

"You too.", Ratigan replied. When Veeken had disappeared from sight, he walked back into Kim's former room, walking over to the window. He opened it slowly, staring up into space. The sky was a dark blue, with a rare few stars scattered across the vast space. A fresh surge of pain welled up inside his chest, not unlike the one he felt when he saw Kim's picture.

"You said you'd always be there for me!", he exclaimed to the stars, as if trying to summon Kim back from the dead. "But you're not . . . And it's because of me . . . It's my fault . . . It's my fault . . .", he trailed off, choking back sobs.

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            The Possible household was as normal a household as all the rest. But, as Basil approached, his ears identified a sound that caused the house to stand out from the others. It was a low sobbing of pain and anguish. "Too deep to be any of the Possible household, but it isn't rons_gurl or Veeken.", he thought. "So that leaves only . . . Oh, God."

            He looked up towards Kim's old room, where the sound seemed to be coming from, and saw the silhouette of Ratigan, sitting on the bed, crying; mourning for Kim, his form shaking from the sobs. As Basil took all this in, he felt a single tear trickle down his face . . .