"You have to have sex to get pregnant." I try to not stare openly at the 20-something year old redhead. Kimmie couldn't have… Then she flushed. Well I'll be a monkey's uncle. Someone has grown up a bit.

"You don't have to rub it in, Shego." She was weak- and defeated-sounding, definitely not the Kimmie I love to loathe. She sat up and hung her head low, puppy-dog-pouting into her lap. And not at me. I hate that thing.

"So why come to me?" confusion apparent. "You have parents of your own. You have friends of your own. You have that buffoon and his rat-thing." My voice reaching up into my ears rang embarrassingly high. Hope it came off as incredulous-annoyed rather than just incredulous. "I think you get my point, we're not exactly 'best buddies' here." Damn that ended a little harsh.

I almost begin feeling bad when tears start erupting onto her cheeks. She turns a hard glare at me, "I can't go to them, why else would I be here?"

That's what I'm asking. "That's why I'm asking you. Why can't you go to them?" That confused me. Pumpkin probably had the best and most stable support system I would ever see. I watched as her eyes drifted all along the walls of my room, I was going to reassure her there were no cameras in my personal space, hell I emit enough plasma to short-circuit cameras by force of habit when I want privacy.

"Think about how disappointed they'd all be in me when they find out. 'Hey Mom, hey Dad. How're you? It's Kim, your once-responsible 21-year old daughter who used to save the world and babysit. You know, the one who left town to study abroad in a host of different countries. Yeah, guess what! You're maybe gonna be grandparents, congrats!'" She paused to "wait for their answer" before responding, "'Oh the father? Don't worry, he's a good-looking young boy, he must've been, all the boys at the party were. I'm not exactly sure which one he was, I might've had my drink spiked and I was passed out. Maybe one day I'll find him and we can have a family dinner?'" Her eyes were still hard-set, far from the once determined-but-naive and hopeful ones I'd gotten so used to, her gaze dropping down again.

"Alright I get it, so not happening, jeez. Don't have to be so snippy about it." I pause, briefly deciding to forego tact in this case of extenuating circumstances, "Is what you just said true?" Her eyes snap back to mine and I am caught in the expression of suppress rage that rarely graced her feature. But it's not for me, I know that this time. I fight down a shiver at remembering Kimmie's visage after the Lil Diablo incident. I also know she doesn't hate- I cut the thought short: she needs me, that doesn't mean she doesn't hate me.

She puffed out an irritated breath. "Yes," she bit out. "I was at a party in some frat with a housemate who was supposed to meet me there. But she bailed, said she got the scores from her make-up midterm back: was hitting the books instead if I needed a study-buddy for finals week." Leaning back, she propped herself up on her elbows and looked up at the ceiling instead."I had a beer or two or eight - nasty stuff, but it kept me social-looking and not just a prude." I wouldn't have pressured you into drinking, Pumpkin. I hope you'd know that. "Anyway, I woke up on a bed, naked and a mess. You can't tell me I didn't do the dirty."

Being no stranger to intimacy issues, I understood that a hug was probably not the best route to go. I turned and did it anyway. First she stiffened, but gradually melted into my arms, welcoming the advance. I laid her head on my shoulder as she started to cry and held her as her body shook.

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I can't believe she's being this nice about it. It's Shego! I thought I'd get laughed at or she'd tell me she actually recorded the conversation anyway. She just shook her head when I started looking for the equipment. She probably didn't even know she did it.

She held me and waited for me to calm down. After a good 20 minutes I manage to get a hold of myself, she gets up and tells me she'll be right back. I wrung my hands as I waited anxiously, willing myself to believe she wasn't trying to find leverage to get rid of me. She wouldn't. That's too dirty even for her. She's about the fight - not the kill. I let the faint smile creep onto my face as I let the thought comfort me. It had taken me years to notice that. I was dumb. She could melt through steel and blow up concrete: Why would I ever think that the plasma she threw at me wouldn't burn? I knew the glow was just a flashy trick when it came down to hand-to-hand, something that distracted my eyes for the first few times we scuffled. I thought I was going to die the first time I saw it, knowing what those blazing hands could do, it took an embarrassingly many months to reflect that her hands were less flames than they were flares, that they were pleasantly warm in close proximity, and they lit up the darkness we sometimes found ourselves in so that we could continue our fisticuffs.

I got lost in my thoughts again. I blush and graciously accept the water glass thrust under my nose with a murmur of thanks. She also brought closer a box of tissues from the bedside table and a small bottle of aspirin. I didn't even notice she had a table, let alone tissues on it. My blush deepened accordingly. Moving silently once more, she scrutinizes her closet before holding up a small navy blue t-shirt. Not green huh? I start to tell her she just finished getting dressed a minute ago when she whips around and tosses the shirt at my opening mouth.

Rubbing my bleary eyes, I suddenly see she's not wearing her usual catsuit. She's even in some layers: Forest green sweat pants with a black string feeding out the top, a black V-neck tank top that flared slightly at the bottom, to top it off was the black Club Banana jacket from all those years back except the inside is dyed her signature green - just a few shades lighter than her pants. And without the elastic at the ankles. I'm surprised, this really must be a non-stealing outfit. Who was I kidding? Shego could be completely bare and still thieve circles around most security systems.

She spoke authoritatively: "You're a mess. I know we just rolled around in my bed, but still Kimmie, standards." My look of death was met and tempered by a teasing curl of her lip. "But really, if you're here and you can't go to anyone else, I take it to mean I'm stuck with you for at least tonight. You hit the shower and I'll warm the bed for you." She winks and I scowl at her. I look down and see there's merit to her words. Old mission gear doesn't look its best when you've grown out of it a year ago. And have torn it to hell and back. Covered in dust and vent-grime, I get up and head towards to bathroom.

Thankful she wasn't going to prank my shower, I step into the luxury shower-tub combo and start my routine by washing my hair. It was the apple-scented body wash that brought me back to the present: I used strawberry. I close my eyes to allow the darkness to retrieve me but I wasn't so lucky as not-quite-memories attacked from the shadows. Faced with the blackness of sensory deprivation, all the calmness I had stockpiled gave way to the feeling of memory lapses. The nonexistence shadowing in the knowledge of what I know must have happened that night. The deleted scene of that night stayed unknown, but that scared me all the more. I shouldn't have stayed once I knew I was alone. I felt myself enveloped by shame.

Huh? I look up in confusion as I feel warm hands gently holding a towel to my frame. "What are you-"

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"-doing here?" Scared and naked and crying and still putting up a fight, maybe you still are my Princess. I look at her trying to convey safety. Please don't think I'm going to take advantage of you like this, I plead with my eyes.

"You've been in here a while and I knew there couldn't be any more hot water." And I listened to you crying your eyes out over the shower for the last half hour. But I'm not going to tell you that. "Pretty soon, you'd've used the whole supply and I'd have to get some more airlifted in. Lairs aren't conventionally connected to main water systems." She shivers jerkily and I smile that she realizes she's been sitting in freezing cold water for who knows how long. "And 'sides, you can't 'do anything' if you die of hypothermia, Possible."

She sighs as the defeated look comes back. "'Anything's possible for a Possible' huh?" she spat, "it doesn't look like I can do 'anything' now though right?" Bitterness doesn't look good on you Pumpkin.

"Enough with the attitude Red. Let's move this conversation into the bedroom. Hell, let's move this anywhere else." I never got girls going to the bathroom in groups, and this didn't exactly make a sparkling impression. "Seriously. Get up. Towel."

I look away as these words start to register in her frazzled mind. I stay in case she slips or loses grasp of herself again. Dammit she could've drowned in there she was so gone. What am I gonna do with the corpse of Kim Possible? I can't just leave her there, but it's not like I could take it in either. At least there was solace in being completely pardoned. As the best, it means being the best, which in turn means not getting caught. What was few years of harmless mischief in the absence of my favorite teen hero? Drakken's been in and out of a fugue since the Lorwardian bit, he's been having me steal my paycheck less indirectly than usual. I grab things, but then he just freezes and tells me to keep it, or does the fencing for me before the check. If anyone should've stayed on the straight side, it's him: villainy makes him miserable. I loved that big dope. He's family to me in ways my brothers could never be. Hego… if you cared half as much for me as you do about the Team Go image, it'd still be negligible for how much Drakken does. I knew that as long as Dr D stayed, I'd have to watch his back. Gotta watch Pumpkin's too right now, who knew it'd be up to me. Maybe underneath it all I'm still the hero I tried so hard to escape.

Kimmie squeaked as she came to, wrapped tightly in fluffy white. Damn it Possible, what happened to the girl I knew? Where did you go when this happened to you? I sigh an answer to questions that may never know their proper answers. I lead the girl to my closet and wave a hand over pants and shorts as I went and found some underwear I'd never worn. I'd be willing to share mine with Kimmie, but I know I'm weird about wearing other people's panties. She'd chosen gray sweatpants and the smile she gave me didn't quite reach her eyes as she took a pair of new white panties from me.

I left my room as she got dressed, I close the door behind me. Weighing the gravity of the situation for a few moments, my hand finds its way to massaging the bridge of my nose. What the hell am I supposed to do. Why me. Instead of leaving though, I accepted this responsibility for my rival rather than to her. This kind of stuff shouldn't have to happen to anyone. Unmitigated squeaks from the door took hold of my attention as Kimmie opened the door to usher me back in.

I gesture to the bed; I had been bluffing about warming it up, I didn't want to scare her while she was still this shaken up with strange beds. She made her way under the covers and I approach from the other side after a quick stop to a nearby cupboard for extra blankets and pillows. Just in case, Kimmie could kick in her sleep.

"Alright Red, ready to talk?"

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"What's with 'Red' all of a sudden?" That's a new one, from her anyway. "And 'seriously'? Sounds like Motor Ed all over again." Shego glowered. "Maybe Drakken's been rubbing off on you." At least I haven't lost my touch.

"Ha ha," she said dryly. "And here I was, about to ask you if you wanted me to warm the blankets up for you anyway, plasma-style without any perversity. Don't compare me with Eddie. Ever."

"Alright, alright," I acquiesced, "but that still doesn't explain 'Red' though, it's new." I had to admit to being curious, there was a very distinct list of nicknames I'd gotten from the woman over the years, and she never showed interest in changing it.

"Fine by me if you want to relive the past. It just didn't feel right calling you those old names when you were here being such a new person." Wow that actually made sense, can I still call that Shego-logic? "If you want, I can scrap 'Red', it doesn't speak to me to convey you. The change doesn't suit you." Innocence suited me too, but that's still gone.

I tossed my head as if to toss the thought, but its burn made itself known all the same. "It's fine. Actually, can you just make up a new nickname for me?" Sinking to before doesn't have the appeal it probably should have, but… the past is known to repeat itself. I shudder.

"Ugh, forget it. A new nickname? Do you have any idea how many you have already? Gods, I'm better off calling you something absolutely non-sequitur like 'Elephant' or 'Neon Blue' to avoid 'em all," Shego deadpans in what had to be the best poker face I've ever seen.

I giggled despite myself.

"Hey, I know I said I'm pregnant, but weight gain jokes already? Not cool Shego," I scold before being overtaken with another wave of silliness. "And are you comparing me to Drakken now?"

"Not a fat joke Neo B: you're subtle as an elephant. I am however, drawing a parallel to you and the blue wonder. It's only fair since you did it first." Wow, she's smiling. Scratch that she's got a face-breaking grin on. It's nice.

"Really though, if I'm gonna hafta whip up a new epithet for you I'm better off just calling you 'Kim' until then." I smile in earnest for the first time in weeks. "That okay with you Penguin Face? 'Kim' still nice, neutral ground to tread on?" Never thought this would be what it'd take for her to call me by my name. Jeez 'Penguin Face'? I'll give it to her, that is non-sequitur.

"Call me 'Possible' if you're going to help me," the resolution in my voice is back, "I don't want to remember this as the when and reason you start addressing me properly. Just don't call me any of the ones we just said." A blush threatens to compromise my dignity, but I fight it down because I need to win this battle: those monikers are not okay.

"Hold up there, Firetrap! Who said I was helping you?" dismay written on both our features, she continued in a low voice, "I don't do this 'goodness-of-my-heart for rides'crap you and your Team Possible do - I do own my very own car, bike, and jet after all. And the hovercraft is nice to. Maybe you might remember I'm a mercenary-for-hire. Salary and stipend, exclusively." There's no way I could afford her rates. "And on special circumstances, I'm known to let the philosophy of 'quid pro quo' govern. What do you have in mind?"

Ever the mercenary. Dealing favors for Shego might be dangerous. IS, it IS dangerous. "I'm not doing anything completely illegal or wrongsick for you. So if you think this'll be a good way to make 'Kim Possible' kill someone or have sex with you, I'm outta here." Desperate times didn't need that desperate of measures.

I stop shaking my head as Shego shrugged.

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"Relax, you're not my type," that placated her. Still, on thin ice here, with or without the comments from the personal peanut gallery. "What makes you even think I'd ask you to kill for me? Have you ever known me to kill people?" There were lines I was not willing to cross, including animal cruelty and sex with children. She's not a child anymore though, she said it herself: she's 21. Not that it mattered, if I were attracted to the body the princess had grown into, her current state was enough a turn-off to blind me of any hotness. And I can't just force her to sleep with me, especially since she's probably got intimacy issues up the wazoo at this point.

"Pff, what do you mean I'm not your type?" There's fight in you yet. "I'm everyone's type." To prove the point she flipped her shoulder-length locks and shot me a salacious look. Or what would've been one if her eyes weren't still so puffy. Note to self: find out where Dr D keeps his eyedrops.

I roll my eyes, disregarding how ludicrous the entire situation is. "Whatever Madame Whiny-Pants, it's hard to be hot for bloodshot eyes. You in or not?"

She blinks. Twice. I smile. "Aren't you even going to ask what I'm asking of you? How do you know if this reciprocation job is going to be fair? How do I know it's going to be fair? We both know I can't afford your rates on the bank-breaking nothing you already know Team Possible charges." Incredulity does wonders to her voice.

"You're right, get out," I bark and point to the door. When she looks at me like a kicked puppy and starts to push past me in tears, I grab her wrist and swing myself around to face her. I add the fact that I grew a few inches to note that her eyes were still just a little below mine. She's gotten taller too. Possible's been busy growing all over. "Kidding. How much do you have on you right now, cash-wise?"

She shuffles to her discarded cargo pants and rummages through the pockets. I mentally note the hidden ones and any interesting features. Stop it. They're just pants. It's not like you'll need to take them off her or anything. Her hands found themselves in my face, offering the contents of her pockets, "I've got $8 and some change, a stubby #2 pencil sans eraser, and a Pandaroo band-aid."

In spite of myself I smile at the bandage, but quickly turn its shape into a smirk. "I'll take it and the favor and call it even. You can keep your Pandaroo though, I know how much it means to you." You always wore regular patches. She dumps the items in to my hands. "I'm a business woman, if I demand something that's over compensation, it turns into a deficit on my end. Can't have that."

"For under 9 bucks and not expecting a deficit? Why are you doing this?" she asks just above a murmur.

"Because you seem to be forgetting there's a favor involved. Anyway, I mostly want to see what it is 'the great Kim Possible' can't do by herself that she needs my help with." And you have nowhere else to go and I want to help you anyway: I even would've done it for free. I know she's my nemesis, but to turn her away like this was no way to treat a respected rival.

A pained look flits across her face, a shy grimace replacing the tentative crook on her mouth. "Is it okay if we talk about it in the morning? I'm dog-tired." And how you look it.

"You may not have noticed Kimmie, but it's technically morning: you came in at 3 and it's been a few hours since than," I tease to lighten to mood. No use going to bed moody.

She cracked a wry smile at that, "Thanks for letting me stay here at the very least, whether or not you decide to help me." Blushing, "Also for not taking my Pandaroo, it's been with me since my first mission and I've been carrying it as my good-luck charm since."

"Seven years later and it's still good luck? Cute, really." I'm sure the look on my face tells her I think otherwise. It is a little bit endearing, holding on to vestiges of youth, Princess? I shake my head at her again.

"Are you sleeping too?" ignoring my barb.

I nod. I'm about to ask if she'd be more comfortable with me sleeping on my couch in the adjoining room. No, what are you, going soft? It's your bed, doy! If she's uncomfortable, she can take the couch. Not that it's a bad couch; full-grain European black leather - it is mine after all. "You sleeping here or in the other room? It's my bed and I'm still sleeping in it; it's big enough to share but if you don't want to you're clean enough to sleep on the couch."

"So not the drama, it's been a while since I've had a comfy place to sleep," she yawns. "Just pick a side and stay in it, please." No 'please and thank you'? There's so much to get used to.

I slip into the side she's occupying less and exhale, "Pick this up in a few then?" Another yawn threatens to consume her and I hide a yawn in response. Take that as a yes. "Get some sleep, Possible."

"Good night Shego," the redhead sleepily whimpers.

I pause, weighing the circumstances. "G'night Princess." She's already gone.