To KP's Lawyer
Will Kim ever leave her mental prison? Perhaps she can leave her physical one, hmm? Ah a spoiler. How will it all affect Ron? Let's see.
Daccu65
Glad I caught your notice. Haven't updated very soon. "Glacially Slow Writer", don't you know?
CajunBear73
How will Jim and Anne apprise Ron of Kim's sitch and not let Tara know? It's your lucky day. You're about to find out.
Comet Moon:
CAN love conquer all? Yes—but first love's got to take some hits.
Slyrr
Thank you . Here comes more.
LTAOZFAN
I thank you for that scientific note about oxygen deprivation. Good to know. How effectual is Ron's MMP? Alas, that is not yet divulged. First he has to work through some issues.
Dancing Grass and Donteatacowman
Thank you for the praise
A note. What Wade Load says in the story: "I understand rejection. I was a fat little kid of color who had a doctorate in computer science at age ten. The established members of the academic community often take a dim view of child prodigies. They consider them intruders--a momentary phenomenon.
I have indulged in some K.P. style humor with the name of Kim's gynecologist, Dr Olivia Varian--like "ovarian".Sorry. Awful pun.
A BOX OF CUDDLEBUDDIES
CHPT 4. POETIC JUSTICE
THE ORDEAL
Drew had called the Possible's and Lieut. Hobble to his clinic for an urgent conference. Sheila Go joined them.
"I'll make this short and sweet, " he said. "We've devised a way for someone to have direct physical contact with Kim. It's a recent development. I felt that you should know, Jim and Anne, because you're Kim's parents, and you, Lieut. Hobble, because you're the detective in charge of her case."
Mr. and Mrs. Dr. P., and Lieut. Hobble stared in disbelief.
"Direct physical contact--." said Mr. Dr. P.
"--Even without her natural bacterial immunity?" asked Mrs. Dr. P.
Drew nodded. "Yes. We've been toying with it for several months now."
"Anyone in general?" asked Mr. Dr. P.
"Not just anyone, Jim," said Sheila. "A particular person. Me."
"May we ask how?" asked Mrs. Dr. P.
Shelia Iooked pale and drawn. "I irradiate myself--with my own plasma power."
Mr. and Mrs. Dr. P. were aghast.
Lieut. Hobble looked confused. "You bathe yourself in the same green radiation that you used to shoot at Kim--and us? Is that possible?"
Sheila nodded. "It's very possible--and please excuse the pun, Anne and Jim. I've done it several times now."
Mrs. Dr. P. asked tentatively. "How does--it feel?"
"I'll be candid, Anne. It's excruciatingly painful. It's the equivalent of being burned alive."
Lieut. Hobble now looked just as appalled as the Possible's.
"Let me explain," said Dr. Lipsky. "We got the idea from normal medical sterilization. Every item, supply, instrument, dressing, and medication used on a patient is pathogen-free. No germs. No viri. And sealed in an impervious package or container. Hippocrates--the Father of Medicine--the man who formulated the Hippocratic oath--found that light and fresh air were the natural enemies of disease and infection. Anton von Leuwenhoek discovered microbes through his microscope. Joseph Lister discovered the benefits of chemically disinfecting surgical instruments. Louis Pasteur discovered the agent of infection was bacteria--and how to prevent it--through heat--pasteurization, as we call it--."
"Dr. Lipsky, this all very fascinating," said Lieut. Hobble, "But before you get too far in the history lesson, let's get back on track."
"Quite right. Pardon me. Got carried away. Now--as Dr. Anne will verify, there several ways of achieving asepsis--complete surgical and medical sterility. Objects can be autoclaved by steam heat, chemical gas, and radiation--."
Thomas Hobble broke in. "Doc--cut to the chase."
"My Drew," said Sheila quietly to Anne Possible. "Still loves to gloat. No matter if he's Dr. Lipsky or Dr. Drakken, give him an audience, and he'll lecture their ears off."
"My Jim," said Anne Possible, "The same."
"Our doctors. You gotta love 'em."
"Yes, Officer Hobble, sorry. It's public record, of course, how Sheila and her brothers acquired their abilities They were exposed to some unknown energy when a comet struck their tree house when they were children."
"Like Dr. Reed Richards and his fellow Fantastic Four teammates," interjected Jim. "Like poor Dr Bruce Banner, who's now trapped in a Jekyll-and-Hyde existence."
"Yes, Jim. To continue. After the Warmonga affair, Sheila and I went straight. And we assumed that her days of generating plasma power were done. But then we discovered something. We found early in the history of our clinic that Sheila could utilize her power to kill pathogens."
"I can typically focus my power in a tight beam or a fireball--like St. Elmo's Fire," said Sheila. "But by modulating my power, I can generate a low level energy field with a wide wave dispersal pattern. I can put my hand in a room and kill all the pathogens in that room--on the walls and in the air."
"Now I need some background, Dr. Go. How do you know every germ is dead?" asked Lieut. Hobble.
"We can culture the room--take swabs of the walls and air samples and microbiologically analyze them. So if no germ or virus is alive in the samples, we assume there are no live pathogens on the exposed surfaces of the room--acceptable medical standards."
Lieut. Hobble shrugged. "If Dr. Possible's okay with it, so am I. I assume this is the way they create a sterile environment for those kids with no immunity who live in a bubble."
"Exactly, Lieut. Hobble. You've got it."
"But how does Dr. Go--uh--'disinfect' herself.?"
"I generate the energy," said Sheila, "But I don't project it. I contain it--until the field envelops my entire body."
"Hence the excruciating pain you mention."
Sheila nodded. "Yes," she said on in a subdued voice. "Drew has taken cultures of my skin, saliva, urine, and stool. We've found that a seven minute exposure is sufficient to make me as pathogen-free as Kimmie's environment. And I suffer no permanent ill-effects. I can take some commercial products to restore the beneficial bacteria--like what's typically found in the intestinal tract that aids in digestion."
"So for seven minutes you're willing to expose yourself to this energy--a subdued level of the same energy that can melt metal--" said Anne. She took a step and hugged Sheila. "What can I say?" she said quietly. "God bless you."
"Sheila," asked Jim, "Is there any way another person could undergo the same process?"
"I can answer that, Jim," said Drew. "Back when Sheila and I were Shego and Drakken, I did extensive analysis on her when she joined me as my partner in crime."
"My Dr. D., "said Sheila, smiling somewhat sadly, "Always trying to build a better death ray--or upgrade his sidekick's powers."
"What I found," continued Drew, "Was that there's a certain neurological shock associated with self-generated radiation. Dr. Reed Richards--who you mentioned, Jim--and I have shared research. His brother-in-law, John Storm, the Human Torch, Cyclops of the X-Men, other supers--even his wife, Susan--she projects her invisible force field--all suffer from the same syndrome. The exercise of their abilities causes a certain amount of trauma to the nervous system. In some cases, a very acute amount of trauma."
"We tried in it on the lab rats," said Sheila. "They were dead inside a minute."
"I was going to experiment on higher primates--like chimps," said Drew, "But my Sheila is an ardent proponent of humane treatment for animals."
"I threatened to barbeque his butt if any other animals were harmed," said Sheila wryly, and they all laughed.
"In short, Jim, to answer your question, Sheila is accustomed to the shock--as are John Storm, Susan Richards, and so forth. Anyone else would suffer--possibly fatally."
"We're prepared to do a demonstration today," said Sheila.
"Dr. Go, that's not necessary--" said Lieut. Hobble hastily.
"We feel that it is," said Drew. "Jim and Anne, seeing as you two are Kimmie's parents and in all likelihood will be formally declared her legal guardians after Tara Stoppable is arrested and this whole thing goes public."
Sheila dressed in a simple white cotton dress, like a hospital gown, but without the open back, and entered an air lock between the inner holo-chamber and the exterior of the chamber. "Ordinarily I do this unclothed, but you guys are here, and I don't want to offend anybody."
The Possibles' and Lieut. Hobble watched through the large window. She sat in the chair and the process was begun. The glow spread from her hands to the rest of her. Her entire body was enveloped in the glow.
Sheila screamed occasionally through gritted teeth Things like "God in Heaven!" or "Mother-fuker!"
And Drew knelt beside her in the heat-resistant suit, clasping her hand, ticking off the time every thirty seconds with a stopwatch.
"Thank you for being here," Sheila said.
"I love you," said Drew. "You amaze me."
Appalled, the Possibles and Lieut. Hobble watched silently during the entire process.
Jim and Anne clasped each other's hands.
"Thank God," whispered Anne. "Our Kimmie can have some real human contact."
"But not us," whispered Jim. "For the rest of our lives--and her life--it'll never be us."
THE REVELATION
Tara trudged her way through the dank fetid swamp. Mud squelched as she took a step. She had lost her shoes sometime ago. The mud reached to her knees. Her hand shook as she tried to hold the lantern steady. She lifted it up and squinted, trying to peer through the thick fog. The overgrown brambles and thorn bushes snagged her clothing, shredding the fabric.
She knew this place--the sense of familiarity.
Trees here--shrubs there--an old swingset with slide, now rusted.
Of course! Her old back yard! Things had over-grown.
The developers had acquired her parents' old property. They were going to raze the house, clear the vegetation, and build a subdivision.
They would excavate the cistern--and find the skeleton--Kimmie's skeleton.
Dental records would identify the body--or DNA--or whatever.
Morbid curiosity had finally gotten the best of her. She drove out--at night, after the workmen were gone.
The cistern was open. Tara shivered--and stared--in horror.
A round thing floated up from the cistern, like a child's helium balloon--a horrid balloon. Lank red hair hung from it. It rotated. A face. A rotting face--rotting cheeks--ghastly glowing eyes. The rotting lips smiled. "Hello, Tara--I've been waiting--"
Things grappled Tara's arms. Disembodied skeletal hands. They dragged Tara toward the cistern. "No, Kimmie! For the love of God! NO!"
Tara gasped and sat bold upright in bed. Sweat drenched her hair, her face, her arms, her nightgown. And for a moment she felt grappling hands again. "Ron!" she screamed.
But the hands did not belong to a nightmare ghoul. Comforting arms enfolded her. "Oh, babe. Another nightmare," said Ron quietly. "Shhh. I'm here." He held his quivering wife close.
Tata shuddered. "Wh-why," she asked in a strangled voice. "Why do I keep dreaming of Kimmie--that they found her body in a swamp--that she's after me?"
Ron shook his head. "I don't know, hon." The last night of their honeymoon. What freaky timing. Ron had made his peace with Kim's unsolved disappearance.
Tara had helped heal his grief. He had turned to the wisdom of his faith. As it said in the Book: Trust in the Lord with all thine heart and lean not onto thine own understanding In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.
Sensei had also counseled him. "The seedling sprouts, Stoppable-san. The bloom unfolds. Then the petals drop. The leaf withers. But the seed is made. Then it germinates. Life and death. And life again. It is the way of all things."
It was time to move on. He had married Tara. She was not Kim. No one ever would be. But she loved him and was willing to give him her life.
And now--life's river had brought them back to this location. Kim's fate. Ron steeled himself. Whatever the future unfolded, he would trust in the One Who guided all things to their ultimate end.
But out of a sense of futility, he prayed desperately in his heart, please, Lord, give us a sign. Show us something. What the hell is going on here? Is this some kinda message?
Tara pled desperately in her heart. Please, Kim--I'm sorry--. And the thought froze.
The childhood belief in God--and Afterlife. The childhood fear of ghosts. Tara had suppressed them--or outgrown them. They now returned. Like chickens coming home to roost. Like an overdue bill. She had told herself that whatever she had to do to have Ron was worth it. But Fate was knocking. Payment was now demanded. The common belief that the departed spirit of murder victim was restless until justice was done. It gave Tara goose bumps of horror. God--or Kim--or Whatever--would be in no mood to accept a lame apology.
Back in Middleton, Regina King invited Anne and Jim Possible to her home for dinner. "Ron and Tara will be home tomorrow from their honeymoon. I've been kind of lonely. I just felt like having some friends over." She set up a patio table and chairs outside. "This is where Tara set up the empty chair--in honor of Kim--at the reception."
Anne remembered with razor-sharp clarity.
"Tara, honey, thank you," Anne said.
Tara looked like her mind was occupied. She snapped back to the present as she looked up the see Anne standing there. She stood and gave Anne a hug.
Anne's body shook as she silently sobbed. Tara held her close until she stopped.
Anne pulled back and dried her face with a napkin. "Tara, thank you for honoring Kimmie like you did. This is your day you didn't have to do that. It's….it's been five years since Kimmie went swimming that day and….."
Tara patted Anne Possible's hand. "Kim was very special to Ron and I know that if she had lived we would be celebrating her marriage to Ron and not to me. She loved him and he loved her. They would have been an amazing couple, and they would have rocked the world. Somehow, I really feel that she is here."
And Anne leaned forward and gave Tara a kiss. "You know, Tara, I feel the same way. Somehow I feel really close to Kimmie now. I know where ever she is, she is happy for you and Ron."
It was all so plain now--Tara's glance over at Kim's chair sitting there in its place of honor. The lid to the cistern was directly under the spot where the chair sat. Anne thought Kim was at rest at the bottom of Lovelorn Lake. Tara--with the loving smile and ghoulish heart--thought Kim was still chained to the bottom of cistern.
But Kim had already been in Drew and Sheila's protection for the five years--safe--and yet still imprisoned--victimized permanently by Tara--the new Mrs. Stoppable.
Anne felt queasy. She was sickened by the thought of Tara letting her sit over the very spot of Kim's ghastly dark internment. "I'm sorry, Regina--it brings back all the fear and anxiety. Could we--sit elsewhere?"
Regina's face fell. "Of course, Anne. I can move the table."
"Here, Regina," said Jim. "Let me help you." He understood the horrid irony of being here. But they must keep up appearances--until Tara was arrested. He helped Regina move the table.
"Oh, Anne," sympathized Regina, "It must be so hard--what can I say? Tara's father left his wife and daughter--and yet to lose Kim--it makes my pain seem so little--I'm sorry--I wasn't thinking."
"No, Regina," assured Anne. "Don't feel badly. It was very considerate to have Jim and I over for dinner." She sought her husband's hand and grasped it tightly. Regina would soon lose her daughter--also to imprisonment--and to a murderess's reputation.
The next day Ron and Tara came home from their honeymoon and set up housekeeping.
Anne agonized all day and night.
"Let me tell Ron," Jim insisted.
"Thank you, dear--but I sense Ron will need a mother's solace," said Anne.
In the morning, she called the Stoppable house.
Tara answered. "Mrs. Dr. P.! You're our first caller at our new house!" She had grown comfortable with calling Anne and Jim by the same nicknames as Ron used.
Anne gritted her teeth. "Welcome home, Mrs. Stoppable." She tried to sound pleasant. "Is the new man of the house there?"
"No," Tara said brightly. "He's gone into work. He should be home by evening."
"Thank you, Tara," said Anne.
"I'd like to have you and your husband over as our first guests some night for supper," said Tara.
"That would be wonderful, Tara. I'll call you back when both Jim and I have a night free. Surgeons and rocket scientists, you know," said Anna.
"Yeah," said Tara dryly. "Kinda like head chefs."
Anne hung up. "Ron's at the restaurant," she said quietly to Jim and Lieut. Hobble.
"Are you equal to this task, dear?" asked Jim Possible. "Lieut. Hobble has confronted a lot of families of crime victims."
"Dr. Possible--are you sure of the wisdom of this course?" asked Lieut. Hobble. "I trust Mr. Stoppable's innocence--but I've known him since he and Kim were in high school. His love for your daughter was legendary. How do we know he won't take the law into his own hands? Then I would have to arrest him for murder."
"I've known him his entire life, Lieutenant," said Anne. "I've confronted terminally ill patients and their families with hopeless medical prognoses. This will surpass that, of course--but you've got to trust me."
Anne Possible drove to the restaurant where Ron was head chef. It was a terrible weapon she bore. Tara King had tried to take Kim's life. Drew Lipsky had intervened--but without intending to, by his neglect, had formed the weapon that shattered Jim's life. And Jim, fulfilling his solemn responsibility, had shattered hers. Now she must shatter Ron's.
Just a few words--a story.
Ron was alone at the restaurant. Good. "Anne!" he said brightly. "What brings you by? Let me fix you something!"
The look in Anne's face froze Ron's heart.
"You have something to tell me--about Kim."
Anne's anguish deepened. Why should I be surprised? she thought. His ability to sense a sitch about Kim--it was uncanny. I should have encouraged him--when he still felt Kim was alive.
Ron's face was set like iron. "Tell me--"
His response was as she thought. He slammed his fist into a table and split it like kindling. He wailed--and screamed--and cursed. "She's been at Drew's clinic for all this time? I'll shoot the bastard myself! And then Tara! The damned little whore! Anne! How could you? You and Jim? Just go and forgive those two? For hiding Kim? That's as bad as Tara trying to kill her!" And then he collapsed into Anne's embrace and howled in berserk sorrow. "K.P! Oh, God! K.P!"
And for what seemed many hours, Anne soothed and comforted Ron while he wept and huddled in her arms.
It was a long time before Anne and Ron could converse rationally. "Ron--what's done is done. Please--for my sake--for Kimmie's sake--don't do anything--to Drew--or Tara--or yourself--let justice have its way. Lieut. Hobble has a plan."
At the mention of Tara's name, Ron became murderously silent. "Oh yeah--ain't it just a helluva sitch? The new Mrs. Stoppable. I could cave her head in tonight--a hammer--a cinder block--the pretty blond head--while she's sleeping--then she'll go straight to Hell--let the little bitch roast!"
Anne was alarmed. "Ron! You're like a son to me! Do you want to become what she's become? I can't lose you, too!"
"I'll wait, Mrs. Dr.--'cause you ask me to. I'll play along. I'll act like the loving husband--like Tara must've acted like the loving friend. And then when they come to take her away--." Ron grinned fiendishly. "Yeah--I'm gonna enjoy this."
Lieut. Hobble called for a clandestine meeting with Drew, Sheila, and the Possibles. "The District Attorney and I have conferred. The evidence you presented is impressive, Dr. Lipsky. But the District Attorney's office feels that your status as self-confessed felon--well, let me put it briefly. Both your career criminal past and your current legal status compromises that evidence. A competent defense attorney could be able to have it declared inadmissible. Now if what you tell me is correct, we could take a deposition from Miss Possible in her--um--holographic state. But again, her competency could be called into question--especially if she couldn't be cross-examined."
Jim and Anne turned pale. Drew shook his head. "In her current mental state--that could prove catastrophic to Kim."
"Exactly. Now--if there were a way for Kim to visually identify Mrs. Stoppable as her assailant--it needn't be with her on the stand--it wouldn't have to take place in a courtroom at all. We could record the event. Like taking a deposition. It would have the same legal weight as an underage child describing the details of an assault perpetrated on them by an adult--and her testimony would not be called into question--because we will have established Kim's mental state--with medical corroboration. Any conceivable way to make that happen, Dr. Lipsky?"
Drew thought a moment--and smiled. "I have a plan, Lieut. Hobble. My Drakken persona isn't quite dead. I'm still capable of some crafty scheming."
It was a day later in the holographic world that Kim came to talk to her mother in the kitchen. She was subdued. "Mom?"
"Yes, Kimmie?" asked the holographic .P.
"Mom--I think something's wrong. Maybe you should take me to see Dr. Sheila. I'm bleeding--" Kim put her hand on her lower abdomen. "--Down here."
Holo-Anne clasped Kim's hands. "Kimmie! Don't you realize what's happening?"
Kim looked perplexed. "Well--is this what having your first period is?"
"Yes! That's exactly what it is? Remember what we talked about?"
"Yeah--kinda. Bonnie Rockwaller said she had hers two years ago. She said mine took so long 'cause I'm so--virginal."
On the other side of the chamber wall, Lieut. Hobble, the real Mr. and .P, Drew Lipsky, and Sheila Go watched.
"And how's this going to help us with our plan, Dr. Lipsky?" asked Lieut. Hobble.
Drew held up his hand. "Wait and see."
On the other side, the holographic Anne Possible reassured her daughter. "Kim! Don't listen to that girl! These things happen when they happen. Let's do this. We'll go see Dr. Go. We'll make the appointment for tomorrow. Will that make you feel better?"
Kim brightened. "Dr. Sheila? It sure would!"
Lieut. Hobble and the real Jim and Anne Possible stared at the real Sheila Go. Sheila blushed.
"My counterpart is taking my daughter to see 'Dr. Sheila'?" asked amazed Anne.
"Let me explain," said Drew. "When we first freed Kim five years ago, the one person she became closest to was the one she saw first: Sheila Go, alias Shego."
Sheila closed her eyes, reliving the memory.
Shego dropped into the cistern and activated her power. The ghostly green glow illuminated the cistern. Kim was cringing in a corner, chained to the wall.
"Please, Tara, no! For the love of God! No!"
Shego gasped. "Oh, Princess--what happened to you?"
Drakken unrolled a rope ladder and climbed down.
Kim shrank in terror. "OMYGOD! OMYGOD! YOU TWO!"
Shego slowly approached Kim. "Shh. Kim--it's okay. We're here to get you out." She hugged the frightened girl.
Kim trembled in Shego's embrace. "You're not here to hurt me?"
"Kimmie! Of course not!"
You won't leave me here--in the dark?"
"No, sweetie. We're going to take you home. There's food--and a warm bed."
"Promise me you won't turn the lights out?"
"I promise."
"You'll stay with me?"
"Like glue, hon."
Shego watched Drakken pull out a device shaped like an ink pen. She recognized it--an air jet gun for hypodermic injection. Shego nodded. He pressed it against Kim's shoulder and pushed. There was a sound like a hiss of air and Kim went limp in Shego's arms.
"I sedated her. She's showing signs of severe psychological trauma."
Shego carried Kim to the hovercraft and cradled her in her arms.
Drakken restored the cistern to its previous state--ironically, as Tara had done only hours before.
They were silent as the hovercraft sped back to the lair. Shego wrapped Kim protectively in her embrace...
Sheila bit her lip and a tear trickled down her cheek. She covered her eyes.
"Sheila?" Anne touched Sheila's arm.
Sheila's eyes glistened with tears. "It's seared into my memory, Anne--that first sight of Kim in the cistern. It was awful."
"You were going to tell us, Dr. Lipsky," reminded Lieut. Hobble, "About 'Dr. Sheila'."
"This happens every time Kimberly has her period," explained Drew. "Early in my therapy, "I constructed a holographic persona Kim could relate to--to care for her medical needs--based on someone she was close to."
Anne tried to hide her hurt feelings. "What made you settle on 'Dr. Shelia'?"
"We tried a variety of personas," explained Drew. "At first it was the holographic persona of her regular gynecologist, Dr Olivia Varian. But Kim was nervous and troubled--like a child's first time going to the doctor. We tried a persona based on you, Anne. But Kim detected a subterfuge. And again she displayed acute anxiety. So I finally settled a persona based on the person she seemed to trust the most."
"That was "Dr. Sheila'," said Jim Possible.
"I believe we can use this to our advantage," said Drew. "But it will require the coordinated efforts of us all--and precision timing--."
The next day, as Kim was examined by "Dr. Sheila", the Kimmunicator beeped.
"Kim! Big news! Remember the whole Tara sitch?" asked the holographic Wade. "Well, we found her! She's engaged in bioterrorism."
Kim was visibly nervous. "That's the girl who locked me in a cistern."
The holographic "Dr. Shelia" prompted her. "Kimmie, aren't you the girl who can do anything? We've talked about this for a long time. If we catch her, you can finally overcome your fear."
Kim was silent for a moment. "Wade," she asked slowly, "Can you find Ron? I could so use his help on this mission."
"Wade" tapped his keyboard and peered at several other screens. "Hmm. He applied online a couple days ago for some kind of after-school cooking class. And it's going on right now. I'm paging the Ronunicator, but it's gone to voicemail."
"Dammit," said Kim in a petulant little voice. I am so tweaked at him right now!" She glanced at her "mother" and "Dr. Sheila". "Oops. Sorry, Mom--Dr. Sheila."
On the other side of the holographic chamber viewing panel, Drew smiled evilly. "Now our plan kicks in."
Lieut. Hobble shook his head. "This one crazy scheme, Dr. Lipsky. Were all your plans this--um--'inventive'--when you were Dr. Drakken?"
Sheila rolled her eyes. "You have no idea, Lieutenant."
"Kimmie," said "Dr. Sheila" in the holographic chamber, "Don't you remember that mission you told me about? You and your family went together on Christmas Eve to look for Ron." She looked up at "Mrs. Dr. P." "What if we ask your parents now? I'm sure they would love to be your partners."
Kim pondered. "Wade?"
"Sounds good to me," said holo-Wade.
The "real" Jim Possible asked the "real" Drew. "Drew--what's going on? She isn't acting like my usual Kimmie-cub--the girl who can do anything."
"Sheila and I have witnessed this before," said "real" Drew. "Her experience with Tara King has left her with a deep-seated fear of confronting Tara."
"Mom?" asked Kim, "Would you and Daddy mind going with me on this mission? I would so appreciate it."
"I would love to, Kimmie," said holo-Mrs. Dr. P. "Wade--could you contact my husband? He'll be at the Middleton Space Center."
"Already done, Mrs. Dr. P.," said holo-Wade.
"I'm going with you," said holo-Dr. Sheila. "If Tara King is dealing with infectious agents, I want to be where I can keep my eye on my patient and her family."
"Wade," said Kim, "We're going to need some protection. Can you arrange to get some HAZMAT suits and a transport?"
"Already on it," said holo-Wade.
"You rock, Wade!" said Kim.
And holo-Wade gave Kim a thumbs-up.
And here's where precision timing is paramount," said "real" Drew. "Is Mrs. Stoppable at home?"
"We've checked," said "real" Lieut. Hobble. "Mr. Stoppable is about to leave for his 'conference'."
At Tara and Ron's home, Tara sat shivering.
"Honey? Was it another dream?" asked Ron
Tara nodded.
"If you want, I can postpone going to this conference for a day," said her husband.
Tara shook her head. "No, dear. I'll be fine. If I need to, I can call Mom or the Possible's. Go to your conference. Learn how to be a successful restaurateur--so you can support me in the manner to which I plan to become accustomed." She winked slyly.
Ron shrugged. "Okay--if you're sure."
"I'm sure," said Tara. "Now get going, I've already packed your suitcase."
"I'll be back in a couple days," said Ron
Tara kissed him as he left the house. With an expression of disgust, he spat and wiped his mouth as soon as he was out the door. He wanted to cave Tara's head in--but he had to wait. He promised Anne--he would let the law take its course.
Tara's little courtesies--like making him a naco omelet for breakfast that morning--and packing his suitcase--made no impression. He wanted to see Tara dragged away in shackles. He wanted to see Tara strapped to an electric chair--or receiving a lethal dose.
Tara waved from the window as she saw Ron's car leave. With a sigh, she turned and surveyed the kitchen. "Well--maybe I can defrost the freezer," she said to herself.
At the Matilda Lipsky Clinic, Sheila Go was enduring her self-generated plasma power ordeal. She would stand in for the holo-Dr. Sheila and be a live human chaperone for Kim as Drew's plan proceeded.
The "real" Mr. and Mrs. Dr. P. watched with pride from outside the holographic chamber as Kim prepared. "She's in mission mode," said the "real" Anne.
"She can still do anything," said the "real" Jim with a lump in his throat.
In the holo chamber, holo-Dr. Sheila "drove" Kim and holo-Anne to a "Global Justice HAZMAT facility".
"We should wear our HAZMAT suits before we leave for Tara's lair," said Kim.
"My thoughts exactly," said holo-Dr. Sheila.
Kim, holo-Anne, and holo-Dr. Sheila entered the building.
"We've been expecting you, Ms. Possible," said the holo-Global Justice agent. "Dr. Director has placed this entire facility at your disposal."
"Badical," said Kim. "Now show us where we can change into our suits."
The holo-agent led them to a secure decontam chamber--which was the airlock for the holographic chamber. The door slid open and Kim and holo-Sheila entered.
"Mom--are you coming?" asked Kim.
"I'll wait out here for your father," said holo-Anne.
Kim nodded. "Okay. See you in a few."
The door closed. The "real" Sheila waited in the "decontam chamber"-airlock--hidden from view by a holo-wall. As Kim turned her head for a second, the holo-Sheila evaporated and the "real" Sheila appeared.
"Nicely done," said "real" Lieut. Hobble to "real" Drew Lipsky outside the holographic chamber. "You didn't miss a beat."
"Of course," gloated "real" Drew. "I must confess--I've missed this--planning and carrying out a scheme."
"Need help with your suit, Dr. Sheila?" asked Kim. "I'm used to this. I've lost count how many times I've worn pressurized suits and battle suits and mission suits in my lifetime."
"Thanks, Kim. I think I've got it," said "real" Sheila.
They put on their helmets. The suits were sealed. The door on the other side of the airlock slid open--and for the first time in five years, Kim Possible stepped out into the real world, protected by her airtight suit.
She saw her parents, also dressed in HAZMAT suits. "How did you guys get out here?"
"We used another decontam chamber," said "real" Mr. Dr. P.
"Well, c'mon," said Kim. "Let's go catch a bioterrorist." She looked around. "Wow. The facility sure looks different on this side of the decontam chamber." She saw Lieut. Hobble in a suit. "Officer Hobble?"
"Yes, Miss Possible. Hope you don't mind if I tag along. Global Justice has promised me the privilege of taking Ms. King into custody," he said with a sly smile. "If you folks will follow me, we'll catch our ride." And the HAZMAT-attired group made their way up the long passages of the Matilda Lipsky Clinic to a back door.
Anne bit her lip. "Jim!" she whispered fiercely, "I can't stand it! My daughter--in arm's reach! For the first time in five years!"
Jim took Anne's hand. "Anne! For God's sake! Don't lose control! We've got to keep up the appearance!" He understood perfectly how his wife felt. He also wanted to smother Kim in a loving embrace.
"I've checked the security cam," said Drew's voice in Lieut. Hobble's earpiece. "There's no one outside the back entrance. And the van is waiting."
Lieut. Hobble nodded. The security measures were necessary to keep Kim hidden from accidental public view until the proper time.
Lieut. Hobble drove the van. Kim sat in the back, across from Sheila and between her parents, grasping their hands--because she was nervous about capturing the former friend-turned-enemy who had entombed her alive. "Mom! Ouch! You haven't held my hand this tight since my first day at Pre-K!"
"I know, dear," said Anne. "I'm just being a concerned parent." It took all her control not to break down emotionally.
Sheila watched Kim and her parents carefully. This is the weak part of your plan, Drew--the Possible's maintaining their composure. I should've sedated them--and myself. She marveled at the iron discipline they were showing.
And so the van proceeded to the Stoppable home, two loving parents savoring the presence of a dear daughter they thought never to be near to again. The bait was laid, the trap was set and the hunters proceeded patiently to their quarry.
Ron hid outside the house, using the ninja ways. He watched Tara leave in her car on some errand. He watched the van pull up and the people file out. He watched Officer Hobble, Sheila Go, Jim, Anne, and Kim go into the house.
Kim--the profile--the glimpse of red hair through the faceplate. Ron's knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists. He tried to swallow--and found he could not. His throat was too dry. The pain--it was like his heart was snagged on a fishing line and barbed hook--and was being slowly drawn out of his chest, and up through his throat.
He fought with himself. One self tried to beckon and shout to Kim. The other self struggled to keep silence, gritting his teeth. He held his arms and legs as rigid as iron to keep from running to her and embracing her. It took every iota of ninja training and concentration. His body trembled. Sweat poured from his forehead and body.
In the house, Kim looked around. "Hm. Looks like a regular house."
Lieut. Hobble nodded. "Part of the subterfuge, I'm sure."
When Tara came home, she saw the van, and wondered. And she saw Ron's car in the driveway He's home early from the conference! And she ran happily into the house--.
--And then reeled in shock--.
It was like a delirium. It was one of her nightmares coming true. A dreadful waking dream. Kim Possible's head in a fishbowl Tara was speechless with horror.
The head's eyes blinked. The mouth moved. The head spoke. "Tara--why did you lock me in that box?" Under the fishbowl was a robot body of gleaming metal foil, like a space suit, with segmented joints. The robot body stood erect. The robot arm pointed accusingly at Tara. "It was dark! That was mean of you!"
Other robot cyborg monstrosities appeared in Tara's peripheral vision. Mr. and Mrs. Dr. P.'s heads in fishbowls. Angry vengeful faces.
Tara backed up in awful fear--.
--Into the waiting arms of Lieut. Hobble.
"That's her! That's the lady who shut me in the dark! Tara! That was awful! I was so scared! I almost smothered! Why did you do that to me?"
The HAZMAT suits were equipped with hidden cameras and microphones. "We have what we need," said Lieut. Hobble. He cuffed Tara's hands behind her. "Mrs. Stoppable, I'm placing you under arrest for the abduction and attempted murder of Kimberly Ann Possible. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights as I have...?"
Tara barely heard the words. She barely felt the bite of the handcuffs as her wrists were bound behind her. She barely saw the mingled shock, sadness, and disgust on Jim and Anne's faces. She only heard the roar of voices in her head. Her reawakened conscience, her belated remorse, and her plaintive plea for comfort, her pitiful bewilderment.
In the cold light of arrest, Tara's dread of Hell, nightmares, and Kim's vengeful ghost was fading away--and was replaced with dread of incarceration, of public scorn and disgrace, loss of home, family, and friend--
--And on a superficial level, absolute curiosity and complete bewilderment as to how Kim had escaped her imprisonment--and where she had been for the last five years.
"Kimmie--how--?" she babbled, as she passed by her former friend and would-be victim.
Kim's gaze was wide-eyed childlike resentment, with not a trace of malice.
--And she passed by Kim's mother and father. "--Jim--Anne--please--let me explain--"
As they led her from the house in handcuffs, the final blow was dealt to Tara's heart. She saw Ron--with a vicious hateful glare.
She looked back and said in a weak plaintive voice, "Ron? I love you--I did it all for you--for your good."
"I'm never going to see you again, Tara--except maybe in hell," he said with out a backward glance. Ron jumped into his car, gunned the motor, spun the wheels, and shot out into the road, the tires kicking up a spray of gravel and sod.
Tara only stared dully. She blinked as tears ran down her cheeks. Her lips moved soundlessly. Ron. I love you, Ron.
To be continued
