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PART ONE

July 22, 2063

Kim looked at her bedside clock and saw that it was 2:15 in the morning. Then she rolled over and saw that Ron's side of the bed was empty. She hoped he was simply having trouble sleeping, that he'd gone to the study and was playing with his stamps. But then she heard the retching. The sound was faint, but it was unmistakable.

She sat up, quickly climbed out of the bed, and grabbed her robe and glasses. She looked into their bathroom, which was empty, then headed to the guest room with its adjacent convenience. There she found Ron, hunched over the toilet, in the throes of being sick.

Kim dropped to her knees and gently rested her hand on her husband's shoulder. "Honey," she said comfortingly, "I'm here."

Ron continued to be sick. When he was done, he gasped for air. "Water," he croaked.

Kim rose and got him a glass of water, which she watched him quickly down. "It's getting worse, isn't it?" she said.

"Yeah, crummy tummy, head exploding," Ron answered weakly. "Sorry to wake you up."

"That's so not an issue," she said, returning to her knees, and giving him a buss on the cheek.

Silence filled the room. Finally, Ron spoke. "I'm scared, KP," he confessed as he rubbed his temples. "It's never felt this bad."

She embraced him fiercely, knowing she, too, was scared, more scared than she'd ever been in her life, which wasn't surprising, given the diagnosis they'd received just a few days earlier; Dr. Kim Stoppable knew her husband of more than five decades and lifelong best friend was dying and there was nothing she, or anyone else, could do to save him.

September 28

Kim sat in a chair by Ron's bedside. "So, what do you want to watch, Space Passage or Captain Constellation?" she asked.

"Neither," he said. "Just want to sit here and look at my babelicous wife."

Kim snorted. "I'm old and gray."

"I'm all about your gray hair," Ron said. "It makes you look hot."

"And what about the glasses?" Kim asked; she'd resigned herself to wearing them when it became apparent that surgery wouldn't solve the thankfully manageable vision problems that had emerged in recent years as a result of being exposed to lasers when she was a teenager.

"Those make you look smart," he answered.

"So you're saying I'm smart and hot?"

"Hey, the Ronman just calls them like he sees them," Ron said as he waggled his eyebrows.

"Nice call, Captain Romance," she said approvingly. "I think I'll keep you around."

"The Rondo may be sick, but he stills comes to play," he said with satisfaction.

Kim smiled. "Spankin'," she said using a bit of slang she hadn't used in many a year before she gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Ron offered a lopsided grin. "Badical," he said before his jaunty expression turned into something more serious.

"What is it?" Kim asked.

"You've got to make me a promise, KP," Ron said. "After I check out, you have to live for both of us."

"Ron, don't talk—"

"Kim," he interrupted as reached up to brush her cheek with his hand. "It's going to happen. Soon. You know it, I know it. I just wish the cancer hadn't hit my brain. It's not like I had a lot up there to start with."

"Stop that," she said. "No dissing my BFH. Besides, I like what you've got up there," she added as she ran her fingers through the wisps of hair atop his head.

"Thanks," Ron said before he was seized by pain and winced.

Kim, despite her efforts to be strong for her husband, began to tear up. "This shouldn't be happening to you. It's not fair. If anyone should be dealing with this, it should be me." She knew that had Ron not accompanied her on her world saving adventures in years gone by, he would never have been exposed to the death rays and genetic scramblers that were now wreaking havoc on his body and brain.

"KP," Ron said reassuringly, knowing that his wife had been fighting powerful feelings of guilt ever since his illness had been first diagnosed. "I can't tell you how happy I'm it's not. If it had been you, I'd have failed in my duties as sidekick."

"You are not my sidekick," she said sternly. "You're my partner."

"Hey, sidekick's a noble profession," Ron replied with mock indignation. "Being yours was the best thing I ever did."

Kim looked fondly at her husband and gently caressed his face. "I'm going to miss you so much," she said softly.

"Yeah," Ron agreed as he reached up and touched her hand. "Me too."

"I can't even imagine being without you," she admitted.

"You'll be okay," Ron said as he squeezed her hand. "You're Kim Possible –"

"That's Stoppable, mister," she corrected him.

"You know what I mean," he said with a grin. "But whatever you're called, you can do anything."

"Even get by without my Ronshine?" she asked, dabbing at her eyes.

"Admittedly, that could be hard, even for a bon-diggity hero like you," Ron said, trying to sound lighthearted. "I know I'll miss those five alarm KP kisses. But I promise I'll save you a seat at the great Bueno Nacho in the sky. But only on one condition."

"Let me guess: that promise you just asked me to make."

"Yeah," Ron said, smiling. "Do the things we never did. See the places we never saw. You know, like the places in the Caribbean without lairs. I'm pretty sure there have to be some."

Kim took a deep breath. "Okay," she said. "Promise."

"Maybe you ought to seal that with a kiss," Ron suggested.

"Good thinking," she said as she leaned in and brought her lips to his.

Two weeks later, his family gathered around him, Ron Stoppable died at the age of 74.

October 13

Rabbi Ann Stoppable looked to her father Jon and nodded. The middle-aged man left his mother's side and approached the pile of dirt that was next to the grave. He took the shovel that had been place nearby and pressed its blade into the mound, then hefted a shovelful of the brown earth into the open grave. As Kim watched, she began to tremble, then cry, as the finality of what was happening began to overwhelm her.

She had sat stoically through the funeral service and the ride to the cemetery. At the graveside, even though she had never converted to Judaism, she joined in the recitation of the Kaddish, and listened intently as her granddaughter Ann, who had only recently completed her rabbinical training and was now serving at Middleton's synagogue, offered the traditional mourning prayers. And as the casket holding her husband's body was lowered into the ground, Kim remained composed. But this was too much for her. "Don't go, Ron," she said softly through her tears. "Please don't leave me."

Ann's heart broke as she saw just how lost, and old, her beloved Gramma Kim suddenly looked.

Thanksgiving, November 22

Little Cindy Smith was worried about her Gramma Kim. All her life the little girl had known her grandmother to be a lively, vivacious, and adventurous person. Today, however, her Gramma was silent and withdrawn. Cindy assumed it was because Grampa Ron had died. The girl had loved being around the old man; he'd always been lots of fun and was very silly. She wondered if she'd be as sad as her Gramma appeared to be if her best friend Ted were to move away. Tentatively, the child approached her grandmother, who was sitting in a chair and looking out a window, and took the old woman's hand. The one-time teen hero looked down at the girl and squeezed the small hand that clasped hers. Then she returned to looking out the window.

"I'm worried about her, Dad," Ann said as she watched grandmother and granddaughter.

"I am too," he said, his concern written on his face. "I can't imagine what she's going through; they were together their entire lives. I hope this is a normal part of grieving."

"Dad," she replied with a shake of the head, "I know I'm still new to this whole spiritual leader thing, and my perceptions may be colored because she's my grandmother, but this is way beyond normal. It's like someone's pulled the plug on her."

Jon sighed. "You know, in her all years of saving the world, Mom only wanted to give up once."

"The Diablo sitch," Ann said, referring to the incident that justifiably held a mythic place in family lore. Everybody knew the story of how Kim, defeated and forlorn, was ready to give up until Ron not only buoyed her spirits but began to confess his feelings for her, paving the way for her to save the world and for the two teens to begin a romance that had only ended with Ron's recent passing.

Jon nodded. "It's like Mom's back in that storeroom, tied up to that cactus. But this time, Dad's not here to give her a pep talk."

Or something to live for, Ann thought, as fear for her grandmother seized her.

December 3

Ann sat in her study at the synagogue. She was supposed to be preparing for an adult education class about Hanukah, but she was finding it impossible to concentrate. Her visit with her Gramma Kim earlier that day had left her disconcerted and disheartened. Kim had been uncommunicative and listless, her usually sparkling eyes dull and lifeless. To Ann, it was as if a stranger had taken up residence in her grandmother's body.

She had insisted that they go out to lunch, something her grandmother reluctantly agreed to do. But their conversation was desultory and perfunctory, unlike the animated conversations they usually had. Ann missed those talks; in recent years, Kim had developed an interest in religion and while the two women were of different faiths, their conversations were always stimulating and thought provoking. This time, it had been a challenge to get Kim to even discuss the weather.

Ann knew her grandmother was retreating into herself, her desire to do anything all but extinguished since Ron's death. She'd heard of this happening to people who had lost a spouse to whom they were particularly close. Watching it happen to someone she loved was heart-rending and frightening.

The young rabbi looked up from her commentaries and her notes and saw the reproduction of Monet's Watermelons that hung on the wall; the original, a gift from her grandmother's nemesis at the time of her father's birth to her grandparents, now hung in the Middleton Museum of Art. She rose from her chair and approached the picture. She stood before it, studying the colors and brushstrokes, something she liked to do when she was trying to sort out a problem. It wasn't long before an idea began to take shape in her mind.

December 5

"Thanks for the ride, David," Ann said.

"Think nothing of it," the former Israeli Air Force pilot said. "It's the least I could do after you agreed to officiate at my sister's wedding at the last minute."

"No big," Ann said, unconsciously echoing her grandmother. "I still can't believe what happened to Rabbi Friedman." The freak accident involving his tallis, or prayer shawl, was still a hot topic on rabbinical chat boards. "I'm just glad he's okay now."

"That's good to hear," David said. "You should get ready; we're approaching the LZ."

"Thanks," Ann said as she rose from her seat and retrieved her parachute. She slipped on the straps, then checked the fittings on her harness. "Okay, I'm good to go."

"Good," David said. "So, look, I don't mean to keep being a nudge and I know you've got a lot on your mind these days, but how about it?"

"You're incorrigible," Ann said. David had been trying to get her to go on a date ever since the aforementioned wedding. While she'd been interested, she was feeling gun-shy. She'd recently broken up with her longtime boyfriend and didn't want to rush into anything lest she be hurt again. Still …

"Guilty," David said, interrupting her ruminations. "I'm persistent, too. But how often am I going to meet a beautiful rabbi who's into extreme sports?"

"You got me there," Ann said as she admitted to herself how much she enjoyed being with the scruffy, yet friendly and intelligent, man flying her to her destination. "Okay, how about dinner next week?"

"You're on," David said enthusiastically, "And you're good to go."

"Great," Ann said as she looked out the now-open door of the plane. "By the way, I like Thai!" she said as she jumped.

Ann, just like her grandmother, enjoyed the thrill of free-falling. The rush of the air against her face was enlivening and the speed with which she fell was exhilarating. She smiled at the memory of the first time the two women had gone skydiving more than a decade earlier. It had not been the last time the two had jumped out of a plane together.

Ann touched down in a manner that she knew would have made Kim proud. She gathered up her chute, packed it away, and quickly began walking towards her destination: an air vent. She pulled out a tool, removed the grille, and pulled herself up and into the shaft. Then she began crawling. Soon, she reached another grille, which she removed. She then dropped out of the shaft, startling a woman who'd been reading.

"Oh, great, yet another generation is saving the world," a white-haired but otherwise very well-preserved Shego said snidely as she looked up from her magazine and saw who was visiting. "Don't you people know how to use a door?"

"Uh, hello," Ann said with a roll of her eyes. "Everybody knows you enter a lair through an air vent."

"What makes you think this is a lair?" Shego said.

"Private island, sophisticated security system?" Ann asked.

"Hey, we like our privacy,' Shego replied.

"Uh huh, right," Ann said skeptically. "What about the surface to air missiles?"

"Look, Pumpkin Junior, it's a dangerous world out there," Shego snapped.

Just then a door slid open.

"Door that goes whoosh? Sounds pretty lairish to me," Ann said triumphantly.

A white-haired Phin Du, still the model of quiet sophistication, entered. Unflappable as ever, he didn't betray the least bit of surprise at finding a mission-suited, auburn-haired visitor who bore a striking resemblance to a young Kim Stoppable in his home.

"You know, other than the freckles and the blue eyes, you sure look like Kimmie. Talk like her, too," Shego observed. "You sure you aren't just some kind of clone?"

"So sure," Ann answered. "Eyes, freckles, remember? Not very clonish."

"You could be wearing contacts," Phin observed as he appraised the unexpected visitor. "And the freckles could also be part of your subterfuge."

Ann rolled her eyes. "I'm not a clone," she said, her exasperation evident.

"Fine, fine," Shego said. "So, if you're not a clone, who are you? And why'd you decide to make like Princess and play hero?"

Ann stared at Shego through narrowed eyes. "One, I'm Ann Stoppable, Kim and Ron's granddaughter. Second, I'm not a hero, I'm a rabbi. And third, Gramma didn't play hero. She was one and still is. Got it?"

"Got it," Shego said, a wry smile playing on her lips. "You know, you really do look like Princess when she was younger."

"Thanks," Ann said.

"I didn't say that was a compliment," Shego gibed.

Phin interrupted. "May I get you something to drink? Tea perhaps?"

"Please and thank you," Ann said.

"Oy, you really are a Possible," Shego said. "So, what brings you out here? We haven't boosted anything in ages."

Ann noticed the Euro Alliance dossier marked "Top Secret" that was sitting on the coffee table. "Riiiiggght." Ann said as she looked at the presumably purloined reading material. "Book of the Month Club?"

"Great," Shego said. "Just what I needed. A crime-fighting rabbi. Are you going to bust me first, then preach at me or—"

"I'm here because of Gramma," Ann interjected.

"Kimmie's not taking the buffoon's death well, is she?"

Ann's nostrils flared. "Grampa was not a—"

"Buffoon. I know, I know," Shego said, holding up her hands in a conciliatory gesture. "To be honest, your grandfather was okay. Pretty weird and really annoying some of the time, but okay. So, your grandmother: what's the deal?"

Phin returned with a silver tea service, which he set down before the two women. "I'll be in the study," he said as he removed the stolen document and turned to leave.

"She's in a bad way, Shego," Ann said. "It's like she's lost the will to live."

"Huh," the older woman said. "So what do you want from me?"

"I was hoping you could help me."

"Me? In case you haven't noticed, Kimmie and I aren't exactly pals."

"I know," Ann said as she took a sip of tea. "But you go way back with Gramma."

"So do a lot of other people," Shego said. "Nerdlinger for instance."

Ann shook her head. "Uncle Wade, Aunt Monique, Uncle Jim and Tim: all tried. She's just shutting them out. She's shutting us all out."

Shego slowly rose from her seat and walked to a window. She stood quietly and looked out across the broad lawn down to the star-lit sea. Finally, she turned and looked at her uninvited visitor, then began pacing. "Your grandmother was a pain in my biscuit. I can't even count how many plots she foiled, how many times I went to prison because of her. And I still haven't forgotten how she kicked me into that tower. But, as much as I hate to admit it, she was pretty good at what she did. And she did save my wedding …"

"So you'll help?" Ann asked.

"Yeah," Shego said. "When Kimmie kicks the bucket, she deserves to go out in style, not like some punk."

"Thanks," Ann said.

"So what do you have in mind?"

"I was thinking we could let her know you kidnapped me," Ann said, her enthusiasm for her plan evident. "Then she'd go into mission mode and come to rescue me."

"That's your plan?" Shego snorted. "Now I know you're a Stoppable."

"Was that a shot? Because if it was …" Ann said as her eyes rolled back in her head, she dropped her cup, and slumped over.

Phin returned to the room to see shattered china and tea on the floor by Ann's feet. "I see our guest enjoyed her Darjeeling."

"Yeah," Shego said as she smirked at the sprawled form of her visitor. "Talk about a rookie."

December 5, two hours later …

Ann woke to find herself shackled and gagged, suspended over a large steel gray hatch in a room that was empty save for a sleek console located near the door. She struggled against her restraints, but to no avail. She quickly realized she wasn't going to shake herself free and concentrated on relaxing her body; she knew the strain on her muscles would soon become painful. The longer she could delay that, the less she would suffer.

If only I had a naked mole rat, she thought wistfully as she found herself gaining a deeper appreciation of just how important Rufus and his descendants were to the success of her grandparents' missions. She then began to think of her own mission. I can't believe I let Shego sucker me like that, Ann chided herself. What was I thinking?

Ann wasn't given much time to ponder that question as the door slid open and her captors entered.

"Nice of you to hang around, Kid," Shego quipped.

"Mmmph! Mmmph!" Ann protested through her gag.

"Did you hear something?" Shego said to Phin.

"The Siberian snow tigers, perhaps?" he suggested.

Shego rubbed her chin. "Hmm. Could be. Maybe we should check on 'em," she said as she moved behind the console where she appeared to enter some commands. Moments later, the doors beneath Ann began to slide apart, making a whooshing sound that the long deceased Senor Senior, Sr. would have found most satisfying. That sound was soon eclipsed by the roaring of three large, prowling animals.

This is not good, Ann thought nervously as she looked down. Okay, bad idea, she told herself as one of the beasts bared its teeth at her while another swiped its paw.

"It would appear that Larry, Moe, and Curly are somewhat hungry," Phin observed. "When was their last feeding?"

"I don't know," Shego said. "I thought you took care of that."

"I believe it was your turn to feed them," Phin said.

"I don't think so, Sport," Shego replied. She appeared to consider the matter for a moment, then suggested, "We could feed them Princess Junior here."

"It has been awhile since they've had fresh meat," Phin mused.

Alarmed, Ann once again began struggling against her bonds, desperate to escape her apparently grisly fate. Her eyes grew wide as Shego pulled a lever and she began slowly lowering towards the hungry tigers. Abruptly, the downwards movement stopped. "Doy," Shego said as she slapped her forehead.

"What?" Phin asked.

"I can't believe I was going to waste this opportunity," Shego said.

"How so?" he asked. "Feeding an interloper to the cats would simultaneously resolve two problems."

"Thanks to the rabbi here, I can finally beat Kimmie …"

Shego grinned as she saw the horrified expression on her captive's face.

"… That's right, Kid. You're the bait that's going to draw Princess here. And once she shows up, I'm going to finally crush her …"

Ann began shaking her head vigorously, horrified that her plan to help her grandmother might instead lead to her destruction.

"… Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a call to make.

To Be Concluded In One Week …
KP, RS, et. al. © Disney

Rabbi Ann Stoppable, David © the author