A Hopeless Romantic

Disclaimer: So very clearly not mine that I don't even have to say it…except of course I do. ;)

Chapter eleven of Return of Bad Boy will be up soon, guys. For now here's a little Rongo oneshot that almost seemed to write itself.

This oneshot is dedicated to the characters Torg and Mosp from the online comic Sluggy Freelance. Check it out if you like, it's very good. These characters and others from that comic have really been inspiring me to write lately.

Enjoy the story!

"Shego's escaped again."

I glanced over at my best friend as she studied the newspaper in her hand. She was annoyed, and no wonder. It had been only three days ago that the two of us had sent Shego and Drakken once again to their 'well-deserved' cells in the prisons of Global Justice.

"Just Shego?" I ventured.

"Yes. She seems to be doing that more often lately." Kim scowled and clenched the newspaper so tightly her manicured nails tore through it. She continued talking, but I wasn't listening any more. Shego was free again. I wondered what she would do first, what she was doing at this moment. Maybe this time when I walked home alone after cheer practice and went into my empty room…

Maybe this time she would be there, and I wouldn't be alone.

I know there's no chance of that really. We're too different and she wouldn't even think of me that way, no matter what happens, but still.

I think I'm a hopeless romantic. I keep playing a scenario in my mind. Every dreary day.

It's dark and rainy, and I've just stumbled home in the dark. I'm muddy and bruised and my eye is purple and swollen. My head is bleeding. The thick blood mixes with the rain and trickles down my neck, staining my jersey. It isn't the first time my clothes have been ruined by my own blood, nor the first time my injuries have been caused by someone other than a super villain and his henchmen.

My house is dark. Where are my parents? I think they probably had a meeting to go to, or decided to stay late at the office. It doesn't matter; in fact I'm rather relieved. If they were home it would mean awkward questions. Why am I home so late? What happened to my clothes? Was I in a fight? Questions I can't answer. But they are not home this night. I've escaped the questions this time.

I make my way through the dark, empty house. I could turn on the lights, warm up the shadowy walls, but I don't. I know the house well enough to navigate it in the dark, and for some reason I don't want the light. It feels too much like drawing attention to myself. Besides, the darkness is almost like a salve to my wounds. If I can't see them, than maybe they aren't real. Maybe I made it home safe for once.

As I arrive on the upstairs landing I notice a beam of light coming from beneath my door. Did I leave the light on? I don't really want to go into the room, and not just because I don't remember leaving a light on. I don't want to fix up what wounds I can and explain the rest away to Kim and my parents in the morning. Oh yeah, I tripped and whacked my head into the wall. I'll swear that flagstone moved by itself.

I wish Rufus at least was still there for me, but I know he's better off with Kim's cousin Joss and her female mole rat. He's happy there, but I do miss him, especially on nights like this.

But of course I don't really have a choice, so I go up to my door and open it. My bedside light is on under its dark blue shade and the window is open in spite of the rain, which beads against the screen like all the tears I never let myself shed. But I don't see any of this, not really, because Shego is there, sitting on my bed.

My first instinct is to run, but I'm so tired, so very tired. If she's here to beat me up maybe I'll just let her. Then I can sleep. But I can't stop looking at her either, even though it will probably only anger her, because she's so beautiful. I never really noticed how beautiful she is before.

She isn't wearing her work jumpsuit. Instead she has on a slippery dress of dark purple silk, which seems to flow over her skin like water over a perfect, green diamond. Her hair is loose and damp from the rain, and hangs around her face like an affectionate thunder cloud, heavy with promise of the coming storm.

I can't seem to move, can't seem to say anything. Then she smiles with all the welcome of the first emerging star. It is not like any smile I have ever seen her wear. It is not a smirk, although it is tinted with mischief. It transforms her face. Her skin seems to glow, her large eyes to sparkle. Her smile seems to look into me, right down inside where my poor heart has been twisted into a sad knot of pain. It looks right down to my dismal core and says "I understand."

That's all, but I too understand, and I know why she is here, why she escaped without Drakken and why she never seems to really care when his plans are foiled.

She's here for me, and at that realization I can feel my dead heart begin to beat again. When had it stopped?

Her smile widens now, more mischievous and less gentle, but I don't mind. She smoothes her dress and gives me a sly look from the corner of her eyes. "Close your mouth," she says. "You're catching flies. Now are you going to come over here or am I going to have to drag you?"

I go toward her, so close. I touch her hairline, her cheek. Her lips are on mine. One of her strong hands is on my shoulder, my arm. My eye doesn't seem to hurt any more. My heart is alive. It's filled with something, some emotion. It's not love, not yet, but maybe someday…

We kiss, and hold each other, and look at each other until we both hear a car pulling into the driveway. My parents.

"I have to go," she says then, touching my lips with one long finger. Calloused yet soft. Perfect.

"I know," I reply. My voice is thick with all the emotion I'm feeling. It is difficult to speak over my swollen heart. "Will you come back tomorrow?"

"I'll come back." She laughs and it is as if the wind were playing the falling stars like wind chimes. "Keep an eye on the window," she says. Then she is gone, and all that is left is the mint scent of her hair and the ghost of her lips on mine.

She is gone, but she is still here. She has filled me with something, some joy which is pain and pleasure in equal parts. My parents are back, but I no longer worry about what I will tell them about my injuries, or how I will dodge the bullies tomorrow or the next day, or the day after that.

She will be back, and that's all that matters.

I keep running this scenario over in my mind. It is hopeless. Shego will never come to save me from my own personal villains. She will never know nor understand me, never breath life into my cold, dead heart.

And yet she already helps me in a way. I think of her every day. I see her on missions, and somehow I carry on.

It is hopeless. She will never love me.

I'm a hopeless romantic, but at least I'm still here. Because of her.

Thanks for reading. Please review and tell me what you think. See you all really soon!