Disclaimer: Kim Possible and all related other stuff belongs to Disney, not me.
Author's Notes: Kudos to my main man Rob for doing a bon-diggity beta-reading job. Thanks a ton!
I would also like to inform you that I'm not usually into sad stuff, but I would like to expand my horizons; so please feel free to drop by a review. Flames are accepted not because I am desperate, but because I really want to know if I suck or not. ;) Thanks in advance.
Post Mortem
Ron Stoppable groaned for what seemed like the fiftieth time that day. He ran a hand through his sandy blond hair and slouched over just a little bit more, adjusting the strap on his backpack over his shoulder. He wore his purple number 7 jersey and a pair of trademark khaki cargoes. It was the beginning of a new school year, and a dense cloud of despair and monotony hung over the school's youth. This cloud especially affected young Stoppable, whose blossoming relationship with world-renowned teen hero Kim Possible seemed to be taking a turn for the worse. They had been dating for less than four months, and already, Ron felt he had royally screwed up.
Kim hadn't spoken to him in over a day. She hadn't called him last night, and Ron hadn't seen hide nor hair of her all that day.
This wouldn't have been so bad under normal circumstances. If she had told him what he had done… it would've been so much easier. He could buy her flowers and candy and beg her forgiveness, forever pledging his allegiance and gratefulness if she would only smile and say, "I forgive you."
But no.
He had heard nothing, which only made his suffering worse. He had no idea how Kim felt about him now. To say it was hard was a massive understatement. He and KP had been tight since they were four; to suddenly lose communication… it was unthinkable. Never in the history of their relationship had they been apart for more than a few days—Camp Wannaweep not included, of course.
Ron supposed it wasn't the fact they were apart for so long, but rather the fact that Kim had left in such a foul mood. Nothing hurt him more than seeing his lady down.
He wished he could apologize. He wished he could run up to Kim and tell her how much she meant to him. But she was nowhere to be found.
But that wasn't the half of it.
He had gotten another F in Barkin's math class; he accidentally walked into the girls' locker room after gym; and new and tougher bullies had taken over the duties of the D-hall regulars. They, too, were seniors, and thus had the "right" to do whatever they pleased—this just so happened to be a swirly and a viciously devastating wedgie. Ron winced. He still felt it.
His only consolation for the past few days and over the summer had been Kim, but now she was gone. So here he was, trudging glumly through the crowded hallways of Middleton High School with loneliness and a naked mole rat as his only companions. As he passed by the gym, he happened to glance at the sign hanging on the double doors. It read, "Under Construction. Hazardous Area; Do Not Enter."
Huh. That was funny. He didn't remember the gym being under construction. He shot a double-take and peeked through the foggy glass doors. Ron couldn't see a thing.
"Hey Rufus," he said, "Do you see anything?"
Rufus climbed onto Ron's shoulder and peered through the cracks, sniffing intently. He stopped, then shrugged. "Nuh-uh."
Ron rubbed his chin. "Yeah, talk about weird, I…" Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a flash of red among the sea of students. He straightened up and dashed after it, pushing through the crowded hallways awkwardly. Rufus clung tightly to his shoulder, doing his best not to fall off. The students seemed to walk slowly like zombies, each following after the other in a morose sort of order. Ron pushed and shoved and slid his way through the mass, only barely being able to keep up with the occasional flashes of red.
Where is she going? he thought. Ron glanced at a clock on the wall as he rushed by. Three-ten. Cheer practice. And that meant he had football practice.
Whoa! Ron had to force himself not to slow down. Where had the day gone? It seemed like just a few minutes ago that he was failing math class.
Rufus uttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Kim!"
He was losing her. He'd never be able to catch up with KP in time…
The bobbing red mass always seemed to be just in front of him, but always out of his reach. He tried his best to keep up and almost lost her once or twice. Suddenly she came to a stop. The halls no longer held swarming masses of tired students. They were empty.
Except for her.
Kim Possible stood in front of the worn wooden-and-glass doors of the gym, staring up at the glowing exit sign posted above. She wore her cheer uniform with her backpack slung over one shoulder. A glazed, vacant stare occupied her usually bright features.
"Hey, KP," Ron said, breathless. He rested his hands on his knees, then said, "What up? Does this mean you guys are going to practice on the football field again?"
Kim didn't answer. She just stared, her glassy eyes seemingly looking at nothing and her perfect lips hanging slightly apart.
"Uh, hello? Earth to KP?" Ron waved a hand in front of her face.
This caught her attention. She shook her head, fiery red locks falling over her eyes. "Oh, hey, Ron. What up?"
"Nothin', just on my way to football practice." He glanced at the sign again. "Hey, does this mean I'll get to watch you guys practice?"
Kim shrugged. "I guess. It depends where we decide to relocate."
"Well, it'd be totally badical if the squad could cheer on the sidelines."
Kim sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Ron, remember what happened last time?"
"Uhh…"
"You got so distracted that you accidentally ran into a parked car. It just so happens that the parking lot has a slight incline to it. The car started forward, it crashed into the bleachers… and the goalposts… and the stadium lights."
Ron rubbed his neck self-consciously. "Heh heh, yeah. I remember that…"
Kim looked at him. "What exactly happened, Ron? I didn't get all the details."
"Heh. Well, you see, KP, it was, uh…"
A shrill scream interrupted their conversation. It bounced around the hallways, piercing Ron's brain with chilling swiftness and paralyzing him with a sharp pain. He covered his ears with his hands and grimaced.
But as soon as the sound had come, it was gone.
Ron rubbed his forehead, trying to chase away the beginnings of a massive migraine. He groaned, then said, "Man, KP, that was weird." He continued to massage his scalp, expecting a snide remark or sarcastic comment from his girlfriend.
It never came.
Ron looked up.
Kim was gone.
----------
"K-Kim?"
Ron uttered her name softly, scarcely believing it to be true. She had disappeared, right into thin air.
"KP? This isn't funny…"
No answer.
He quietly padded forward, keeping on the lookout for some unforgiving prankster who decided to play a very bad joke on him.
"Kim? Where…" Ron spotted the clock. Nine a.m., it read. Huh. That was funny. When he was with Kim, it was already 3:10…
This was not normal.
"KIM!" Ron's desperate voice echoed through the empty hallways and reverberated off the cold stone floor. No one was there to hear him. No one was there to help.
"KP, where ARE YOU?!"
Ron took off like a bullet from a shotgun. He darted through the empty hallways, all the while screaming Kim's name. He didn't know where he was, he didn't know when he was. All he did know was that he had to find Kim.
He ran frantically like a madman on a quest for gold. He was fueled by desperation and chased by despair. He clawed at the air, willing himself to go faster. His chest heaved and his throat burned; what was going on?
All he did know was that he couldn't find her.
And that clock on the wall was seriously messed up.
And as soon as it had begun, it was over. Ron rushed straight into a brick wall. No, scratch that; it was Mr. Barkin.
Ron landed on the ground with a thud. He picked himself up and brushed past Barkin, muttering a faint "Pardon."
The teacher put a hand on his shoulder. "What's going on, Stoppable? No running in the halls; you know that."
Ron rested his hands on his knees and gasped, "I was… with Kim and… she… disappeared." He finally managed to choke out the rest of the sentence. "Have… have you seen… her?"
And then something shocking happened.
Mr. Barkin's hardened features melted into something a little softer. He gave Ron a look that almost resembled… pity? He rested a gentle hand on Ron's shoulder and escorted him through the hallway and out the door.
"No, I haven't seen her," Steve whispered. Well, 'whispered' compared to the mock yelling tone he usually spoke with. He steered Ron out onto the football field where the rest of the team was practicing.
"Oh, OK, Mr. B," Ron said. "I'll just look for her after practice." He started to jog towards the locker room, but Barkin held him back.
"You know, Stoppable, I told you that you didn't have to come to practice anymore."
Ron stopped and looked back at his coach. "Uh, why would I do that? I love being on the team, Mr. B. You know that. I may not be the best, but it's what I want to do."
A few of the team members had stopped practicing for a moment and were giving Ron looks that sort of unnerved him. He saw sadness, pity, and even a little bit of – despair? – in their eyes.
The blond glanced around the field. "Uh, hi." He gave a nervous wave. "Coach," he whispered, "what's everybody looking at?"
Coach Barkin put a hand on his shoulder. "It's OK, son," he said. "You don't have to pretend like it never happened."
"Excuse me?"
"I know that this must be a hard time for you, but given the circumstances, I don't think that coming back onto the team is such a good idea."
Now he was agitated. "Look, Mr. B," Ron said forcefully. "I am not quitting the team. I don't know what you're talking about, but I never did quit the team. I never have, never will." He crossed his arms. "And just why are you being so nice to me today?"
A brief look of confusion flashed across Coach Barkin's face, but as quickly as it had come, it was replaced with a look of understanding. He motioned for Ron to stand next to him.
"Come here, Stoppable."
Ron jogged back over to Barkin. "I want to show you something," he said. "Something that might jog your memory."
OK, this day was officially turning out to be a 10.9 on the Weirdness Scale.
Steve lead Ron across the well-manicured football field to the sidewalk. They walked silently, neither of them bothering to speak. Barkin eventually led Ron through the curving hallways of the school and stopped in front of the gymnasium. The sign was still up, but a little corner of it was ripped off.
Rufus stood on Ron's shoulder, quietly taking in the whole incident. Ron looked to his little buddy for help, but the mole rat just shrugged. He was as clueless as Ron.
"Uh, Coach, what exactly is this all abo… oh, look, if this is because of that whole 'destroying the entire football stadium' incident, I'm real sorry—"
Barkin actually let out a small laugh. "No, this isn't about that." His expression suddenly turned serious. "But I think there's something you should see." He removed the orange doorjack and opened the gym door.
Ron and his teacher entered the dark, cavernous room, filing through the door one at a time. As soon as they entered, Ron's nose crinkled in disgust. A pungent odor that smelled something like mold and spoiled milk. And then, there was something else Ron couldn't identify.
The gym probably hadn't been opened in weeks, by the smell of it.
Or cleaned.
The entire room was deathly silent, and the duo's footsteps echoed loudly off of the cavernous walls. The room was pitch black except for a few weak streams of light entering through a gaping hole in the ceiling.
That's why it's closed.
Barkin kept walking, the soles of his shoes unceremoniously shattering the silence. An invisible cloud of gray hung over the gym, smothering anyone who dared enter the room. The atmosphere was thick and dank, and it carried the weight of what seemed like a thousand worlds on its back.
Ron stuck close to Mr. Barkin, not wanting to be left alone. His sneakers were soaked already, having been forced to slosh through numerous puddles of unknown origin. He shivered, rubbing his arms for protection. From what – or from who – he did not know.
Steve finally stopped approximately in the center of the room. A yawning chasm stood in front of him, about six feet wide. It snaked from the northwestern end of the gym to the southeastern, reaching its largest width in the center – right where Ron and Barkin were standing.
Ron peered nervously over the edge. He was still shivering, and his blond hair was matted to his head from the moisture in the room. He opened his mouth to speak, but Barkin shushed him.
He pointed to the chasm. "Remember this, Stoppable?"
Ron once again tried to see over the edge, but all he could make out was blackness. He was afraid that if he fell in, it might smother his scream and swallow him whole.
"Uh, no, not really. And y'know, I think I'd remember."
Mr. Barkin stood stock-still, never once taking his eyes off of the hole at his feet. His back was ramrod straight, his eyes an unreadable murky color. Drops of moisture mixed with sweat rolled down his face. Never once did he flinch.
He seemed to ignore Ron's comment.
"Uh, OK." Why is everyone acting so weird today? "If you'll excuse me, Coach, I think I'll go look for Kim now." Ron was anxious to once again begin his search, but the vice-like grip of Mr. Barkin once again stopped him in his tracks.
When Barkin spoke, his voice was choked with emotion. "Stoppable… Ron," he said. "I don't think that's going to be necessary." He took a deep breath, as if summoning Herculean strength for a feat he did not wish to attempt. For the first time since entering the gym, he looked Ron in the eye.
Ron didn't like what he saw.
"Ron, don't you remember?"
Barkin's gaze was full of sadness, regret, and more than a little bit of despair. He took a deep breath.
"Kim Possible is dead."