This is last story set in the Best Enemies series. It will not, necessarily, be the last Best Enemies story I write. Since the initial arc, or perhaps even before it finished, stories appeared from many different points in the long series of events in the lives of Kim and Shego. I saw this as the end long ago - before the initial arc was even finished - and started writing it. But I resisted either finishing or posting it because the last story set in the series would seem too much like the last story I'd write in the series. We'll see if that prophecy comes true. This story is set around sixty-five years after Best Enemies.
Boilerplate Disclaimer: The characters from Kim Possible are owned by Disney. All registered trade names property of their respective owners. Cheap shots at celebrities constitute fair usage.
NoDrogs created the twins, whose origin was completely altered in my stories. Their younger sister is mine.
Chapter originally began by quoting the first stanza of W. Gordon Smith's poem Come by the Hills, which has been set to a traditional Irish tune. Wonderful song, urging the listener not to borrow additional worries. Let the cares of today be sufficient for the day, tomorrow's troubles will come soon enough.
The Cares of Tomorrow
Kim performed her nightly ritual before going to bed. "I love you."
Shego, who a year earlier had asked why Kim closed each day with the words, performed her own nightly ritual of ignoring Kim. Kim had explained that she wanted those to be her final words. "So, if I don't hear them you have to keep living, right?" Shego had answered.
"I can't live forever, I–"
"You've got a lot of miles left on you. You can talk about dying in another ten years."
"Be realistic… Although how you manage to stay in such good health is a mystery. I'm glad I have you take care of me."
Her own health was no mystery to Shego Part of it might be good genes, but the comet's gift, or curse, of control over energy had convinced her that she could live many years longer.
"I know you heard me," Kim said as she snuggled back against Shego.
"No idea what you're talking about, Princess," Shego said, putting her arm over her partner and kissing the back of Kim's head."
"I love you."
The morning phone call awakened Sheki. Shego's voice shook, "Your mom died during the night."
"Are you all right?"
"Of course not!" Shego snapped. "Call your sisters. Get your butts over here and let me have a complete breakdown."
Shego and Kim did not live alone in the huge house. Sheki wondered if Shego had told any of the grandchildren, great-grandchildren, friends, or the children of friends who might be staying at the old house at any given time of Kim's death. "Probably not," Sheki concluded, "she'll want one of us there."
Kasy beat her to the house, and was in the sitting room holding Shego when Sheki arrived. The older twin had verified her mother's death, and was now crying in Shego's arms. "Did you call the coroner?" Shego demanded.
"You didn't tell me to call the medical examiner. You told me to call Kasy and Jane," Sheki answered, "I did." She looked at her sister, "Kasy, call the coroner. I need to hold Eemah."
"I can't," Kasy sobbed.
"Sorry," Shego apologized to Sheki, "need you to be strong for another minute."
"I don't think I can," the younger twin answered and sat down on the bed and put an arm around her mother.
There was a slight noise from the hall and Shego called, "Who's up?"
"Just me," Shell answered.
"Call the coroner."
"What?" he asked and opened the door to look in.
"Call the coroner," Sheki repeated. "Your grandmother died last night."
He looked surprised and left quickly to make the call.
Kasy regained her composure and nervously straightened things around the room. When Jane arrived Shego finally started crying.
"I didn't expect it… I…"
"Always tough," Jane agreed. "But she's been fragile the last couple years."
"At least the two of you stayed here and together," Sheki added. "Would you rather she went suddenly or watch her waste away over years until it would have seemed like a blessing?"
"I'm glad there was no suffering," Shego admitted, "I just wasn't ready."
"Even when the person has been physically suffering or losing her mind, you're still never ready for death," Kasy told her sisters. "God, if my mind ever starts to go I hope one of you shoots me."
"Don't say that," Shego warned, "some of the stunts you've done? I'd have gotten the gun years ago."
Kasy managed a small chuckle and her sisters smiled.
The medical examiner came himself instead of an assistant. Shell showed him to the room. He nodded to Shego, "Judge."
He'd been in her courtroom, but she didn't know him well and needed a moment to remember his name, "Mike."
"Phone call said Kim Possible."
"That's right."
"Sorry." He asked routine questions, signed the death certificate, and expressed his sorrow for the family's loss before returning to his office.
The daughters divided up the calling list while they waited for the funeral home to arrive for the body. Kim's pastor received a call, as did Shego's rabbi, friends and family around the country, the hospital to let them know Kasy would not be in to work, and others. It seemed like every time one of them made a call she remembered two more calls which needed to be made.
"Call M-News?" Kasy asked.
"No," Shego answered. "The morbid can hear about it without our encouragement."
"Mom helped a lot of people," Sheki reminded her. "We aren't going to get them all called. We'll forget some."
"Then let M-News contact us. You know they will within the hour."
Shego dressed and went down to the kitchen, where Kasy ordered her to eat something and sat at the table to make sure she obeyed. When the green woman began to talk about cooking for those who would come to offer condolences Kasy told her firmly, "No. You've lost mom. It's your turn to let others do something for you. People will bring food."
The men from the funeral home came for the body. The minister from Kim's church arrived before they left. "Do you want to come to the funeral home and make plans with a director, or have him come here?" one asked.
"Going to talk with the minister first," Sheki told him. "Mom wanted a simple cremation and a memorial service at the church. We plan to follow her wishes."
"Your choice," he said. "But give us a call and let us know as soon as you can."
The pastor of Kim's church was still there when Shego's rabbi arrived.
"Rabbi, have I got a question for you," Shego told the young man in an ironic voice.
"Don't you always," he sighed.
"Sitting shiva."
"Yes?"
Kim's pastor held up her hands in a 'T' for time-out and asked, "Shiva?"
"Mourning period, Chrissie, seven days unless interrupted by a major holiday."
"And Christmas and Easter don't count," Shego added.
"Thanks, Abe."
"No problem, we professionals have each other's backs."
The rabbi turned back to Shego. "So, what's your problem - this time?"
"No burial. Cremation."
"Oi, you would do this to me. So... no plans to scatter the ashes immediately."
"Nope."
"And I think I heard you discussing memorial service as I came in."
"Yes."
"Which won't be immediate... You'll delay that to make it easier for people to clear schedules and get here, of course."
"Kim had a lot of friends in a lot of places, they'll want to be here."
The rabbi thought a minute, "Well, in the evolving world of halakha-"
"Don't let Bob, aka Yitzak, hear you say that."
"How did you end up with him in your family?"
"A lot of teenagers go through rebellious periods."
Kim's pastor spoke, "According to Kim, they all do." She looked at Shego, "She always said yours was a doozy."
"I want to hear that one," the rabbi said.
Shego chucked, "I think I was her rebellion. We're hoping he grows out of his."
Kim's pastor put her hand on Shego's and squeezed it in a comforting manner, "She never grew out of loving you."
Sheki spoke up, "We'll ask the funeral home for cremation tomorrow, and start shiva tomorrow night. Does that work?"
Shego looked to the rabbi, who nodded in agreement. The green woman smiled, "With Kim gone, Sheki is now the voice of reason."
"Hey!" Kasy protested. Shego raised one eyebrow and stared at the older twin. "Never mind," muttered Kasy.
"May I stop by for the shiva?" Reverend Christine asked.
"Absolutely," the rabbi assured her, "but you don't count for a minyan. Halakah has not evolved that much - and probably won't."
"Bob will probably say don't count him," Kasy said with a note of disgust in her voice, "because women will count."
"You'd think someone with the Mishnah and Talmud on his smart phone would realize the sixteenth century is over," the rabbi agreed.
"Too busy reinforcing negative Jewish stereotypes to Christians," added Shego.
"Well, if Christians are allowed I'll tell parishioners they can come," Kim's minister told them. "And I'll tell them not to perpetuate negative Christian stereotypes."
Shego asked Sheki to take her to the courthouse and the law firm. "Mourning hasn't started yet, and I need to get out of the house."
At the offices of ABD&Z friends and co-workers offered sympathy. Adam Zinski hugged Shego, "I'm sorry, Judge. I was really looking forward to your hundred and seventy-fifth anniversary."
A new paralegal whispered to a clerk who had worked at the firm for years, "Hundred and seventy-fifth anniversary?"
"The Judge and Kim had a religious ceremony before the state recognized same sex-marriages, her co-worker explained in a low voice. "When the state recognized same-sex marriages they had another ceremony. They could have been in the state's first ten, but waited and had the ceremony on their anniversary. Then, when Kim's denomination recognized same-sex unions they had a third - also on their anniversary. So the Judge and Kim counted three anniversaries a year. One hundred sixty was a big blowout about five years ago."
They stopped at the funeral home to finalize arrangements, and cried for twenty minutes in the parking lot before they were able to leave.
The small copper urn with the cremains was brought to the house on the second day of shiva. When asked about her plans for the ashes Shego gave a vague response, and the subject was dropped as too recent and too painful for decisions to be made.
The memorial service took place at Kim's church a month after her death.
"Long enough the morbidly curious won't try and crash it like they would if we had a funeral," Sheki said.
"Hope Mom's church is big enough," Jane commented. "If everyone who said they want to come makes it, I doubt they have that many for Easter."
The church was packed. "If anyone says, 'Give the public what they want and they show up', I'll slug you," Shego threatened her daughters as they took a front pew to one side of the sanctuary.
The pastor greeted those who had come for the service and turned it over to Bonnie Rockwaller.
"Those who remember Kim and me from high school - and I see some of you out there - might have figured the only reason I'd be at a memorial service for Kim was to dance. We grow. We change. Well, I haven't changed that much. And if you wonder how I do it, I have two words for you - plastic surgery. Kim became my best friend in college. I'm not sure that was a good reason to ask me to officiate today; this is difficult for me. But the Judge told me I was a professional and could handle it - or she'd hold me in contempt. I've long suspected she holds me in contempt anyway - but that's another story. Our orders today are to celebrate Kim's life. Which should be easy: she had a life worth celebrating. Sad stories, if you know any - and those of us who tried her cooking know a few - are off the table. We've asked three people to share rescue stories, and will then allow anyone who wants to add a rescue story of his or her own to share. Then we've asked three co-workers from Global Justice to share their memories. Other co-workers or friends can share their memories after that. If things start running too long, remember there is a lunch in fellowship hall after the service. Family will close the memorial service." Bonnie did a short tap dance and introduced a man whose cub scout troop had been saved from a flash flood by Kim half a century earlier.
Shego spoke last. She concluded with, "We had a hell of a life together. Kim would not have said that. She spent twenty years telling me not to swear in front of the kids. Twenty years saying don't swear in front of the grandkids. Twenty years of telling me don't swear in front of the great-grandkids. And despite my language I think most of them turned out well. I can swear all I want now, but I'm afraid it won't be fun anymore."
The county medical examiner called Kasy a couple months after Kim's death. "I'm worried about the Judge."
"We're all worried about her. You wouldn't believe the conversations I have with my sisters… But I don't think that's why you called. What's your worry?"
"Has she seemed especially depressed lately?"
Kasy frowned and thought for a minute, "Not particularly. Mom's death hit her hard. Hit all of us hard, but she's doing reasonably well. Why do you ask?"
"She was in today. Said she'd been checking the statute books. Apparently the state recognized 'broken heart' as a legal cause of death back in eighteen-fifty-one and it's never been taken off the books. She said that was what she wanted on her death certificate, 'Cause of death: broken heart'. Wondered if she might be suicidal or something. Thought you should know."