kriitikko: Thanks for the review! It means a lot. I hope you continue to find the story interesting.

zzzoo99: Thanks for adding this story to your alerts! I hope you're liking it thus far.

CajunBear73: An unfounded personal grudge, but a grudge nonetheless. Thank you for reviewing and adding this story to your favorites. I really appreciated it!

A/N: I'm not used to writing "naughtiness", and I didn't want to undermine the rest of the story, so the D/S sexiness below may not be as sexy and well-written as I would've liked. Oh well. Thanks to all who read and reviewed the first two chapters! PLEASE R&R! :DDDD

Oh. I should mention, if it's not obvious, that this story takes place right after the series' conclusion. Meaning that the year this story takes place is 2007. Just an FYI :)

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Kim Possible and its affiliating characters. I do own Karen, Derek and John-Paul.


They had not planned on crossing any 'lines' that evening, but before Drakken or Shego knew it, they had ended up in Drakken's room. It seemed as though their stifled emotions and suffocated urges had reached their breaking points that night.

As Drakken stirred in the early hours of the morning, he slowly became aware of a soft weight on his arm and chest. He carefully looked down and was greeted by a mass of luxurious black hair. His breath caught in his throat for a moment; he was so sure that last night had been a dream - a wonderfully unfortunate dream. But the woman sleeping on his chest proved otherwise. He laid his head back on his pillow and smiled as the previous night came flooding back into his mind.

After they had broken the kiss, Drakken had a rare moment of bravery and confidence, and took Shego gently by the hand and led her to his room. Honestly, he didn't have a clue what he should do once he and Shego were in his room; it just seemed like the thing to do at the time. However, something about him taking the initiative had spurred Shego's interest, and when they had entered the room, Shego reinitiated the lip lock.

Things heated up from there; once Shego started kissing him again, Drakken pulled her into his chest with surprising force. He opened his mouth into the kiss and a deep, gravelly growl rumbled up from his throat. The sound excited Shego and she pulled Drakken into her as she toppled onto the bed.

There was a furious storm of clothes and unadulterated passion, and before either of them really realized what was happening, they were both naked.

Drakken suddenly stopped, realizing the gravity of what could possibly happen.

"Shego," he said, breathlessly, breaking a frantic kiss.

Shego looked up at Drakken, suddenly becoming truly aware of their current situation: Drakken was on top of her, vines beginning to creep around them, and under her body. And she was okay with it. More than okay, in fact. She was happily content with the situation, and she wished that Drakken had not stopped to question it.

She reached up, softly touched Drakken's face with the tips of her fingers, and smiled. "It's okay," she said.

Drakken smiled back at her and kissed her again. After that, there were no questions, there were no doubts; whatever happened, happened. After a few more minutes of kissing, petting and groping, they had sex.

Drakken's smile broadened into a toothy grin. The sex had been better than any dream he'd ever had. Shego suddenly shifted under his arm. The movement surprised Drakken a bit, but she merely turned her head so that it was facing the other way. She briefly tensed and let out a muffled snore, before she relaxed and resumed a restful sleep.

Lazily, Drakken ran his fingers through her glossy hair. A large, warm happiness began to well up inside of him. This had actually happened. He and Shego had actually indulged in carnal human emotions and urges without the aid of alcohol or moodulators. Both of them had wanted each other, and, to Drakken, it was a wonderful feeling.

Knowing that Shego preferred to sleep-in undisturbed, Drakken continue to lie relatively still so as to not wake her. Usually, he would've preferred to get up and putter around, but it wasn't every morning his body had a beautiful sleeping woman sprawled across it. He sighed contently, and tried to fall back asleep.

Shego didn't wake until an hour after Drakken had originally gotten up. Drakken, himself, had not been successful in falling back asleep. So he spent that hour softly running his fingers through her hair and caressing the exposed skin of her shoulder and back.

Slowly, Shego became aware of the soft touches of the doctor, and she twisted her head to lazily look at him.

"What are you looking at?" she asked, groggily. Drakken was languidly staring at her shoulder as his fingers stroked up and down her back.

"Your freckles," he answered simply. "I've never noticed them before."

Indeed, Shego did have freckles smattered across her shoulders and down her back; it was the only evidence that she sun bathed, since she was unable to tan.

Slowly, Shego shifted her weight, and stretched her torso so that she was able to meet the doctor's lips and plant a kiss there. Drakken gladly accepted the kiss, and cupped her face with his left hand.

After they broke the kiss, Drakken spoke, "Shego, last night –" he broke off, trying to word his feelings appropriately.

At his words, Shego's stomach knotted. She really did not want Drakken to ruin whatever it was they had before it had even really begun.

"What about last night?" she spat, more venomously than she meant to.

Slightly taken aback by the ferocious tone of Shego's question, Drakken regained himself and said, "Last night was wonderful, and I would very much like for it to continue."

The last part of the sentence, Drakken stumbled over as he realized there were probably better ways to establish a romantic relationship.

The mirth melted away from Shego's face and she began to laugh. As she continued to chortle, Drakken began to get a little annoyed. He knew what he said was not poetic or romantic, but there was no need to laugh at him.

"Oh, don't get your boxers in a twist!" Shego giggled. "I'm laughing with you! Really!"

"I'd feel better if I was actually laughing," Drakken pouted. "Plus, it's difficult to twist my boxers, considering they're over there."

Drakken pointed to a lone pair of boxer briefs hanging over the back of a chair.

"Touché," Shego said, looking back at him. She grinned, and then softly said, "Dr. D, last night was perfect. I'm glad it happened."

"Me too," Drakken agreed. This time, he started the kiss by pulling her head towards his.

The kiss slowly grew more and more intense. Hands roamed up and down their bodies, groping and petting. Shego's lips wandered down to Drakken's neck and bit it. The erotic feeling led him to firmly grab Shego's bottom and repositioned her so that she was straddling him.

Shortly there after, they began to have sex again, this time slower and more purposeful than the night before. Each pelvic roll was overwhelmingly rhythmic and venereal.

Since Drakken was familiar with Shego's powers, she did not concern herself with keeping them in check, and let herself completely become absorbed in the feverish act in which she found herself. When she had had sex in the past, she would always need to be conscious in keeping her glow in check, since most men did not find fiery hands a turn on. Therefore, she had never really been able to completely enjoy sex for what it was. And because she was concentrating on keeping her glow under control, her 'blue ribbons' were few and far between.

But now that she was with someone who was used to seeing her with bright green hands, she gave herself over to Drakken fully and without question. As she continued to ride him, the feeling of him inside her began to become crushingly amazing. She bent over in pleasure, placing her fists on either side of Drakken's head. Shego's hands began to spark, and they became enveloped in her flaming plasma.

Before the plasma could lick at Drakken's face, he sat up, wrapping his arms around her and bringing her closer and farther down on him. The grind made Shego cry out and shudder. Suddenly a series of flowered vines wrapped around the couple, and they continued in their intense and earthy lovemaking.

As they continued, Shego couldn't help but emit deep, guttural, satisfied cries that spurred Drakken into a faster rhythm. Soon, they were both near their breaking points. In their final pelvic rolls and thrusts, Shego uncontrollably dug her nails into Drakken's back and cried out in pure ecstasy. Drakken tensed and shuddered in the absolute release of the moment.

The two stayed sitting up for a minute, holding onto each other, and breathing heavily into each other's necks. Finally, Drakken fell back onto his pillow (which now had two burn holes in it) with a satisfied 'Hhmph!' sound. He loosened his grip on Shego, and she slowly rolled off of him.

The lay next to each other for a minute or two, staring at the ceiling, breathing raggedly.

"I definitely think we can make this work," Shego said, finally. Drakken smiled and grabbed her warm hand.


Karen was not expecting the hotel concierge to be overly helpful if she asked to see the hotel's most prominent guest, so once she got to the Willard Hotel at 10:30 in the morning, she made a B-line for the Round Robin. She planned to grab a cup of coffee and sit at a table where she could keep an eye on the hotel lobby.

As she sat down, a waiter came over to take her order. She ordered a cup of black coffee, since it was cheapest thing, besides water, on the brunch menu. After the waiter walked away, Karen reached into her purse and pulled out a small photo album. The book had a series of Ronan, from birth to her graduation from MIT.

Karen nervously flipped through the pages until her coffee arrived. She dropped a sugar cube into the cup and uneasily stirred it. Her eyes flicked to the lobby as she took a sip.

Nothing yet.

Karen looked at her cell phone to see the time: 10:50 AM. Drew had to up by now. She knew he wasn't one to sleep-in. And, as if on cue, she heard the distant 'ding' of the lobby elevator, and two voices followed; one of which was very familiar.

"So, where are you going?" Drakken asked, as he and Shego stepped out of the elevator.

"For the fourth time, I'm going to a spa," Shego responded.

"Nnnrgh. Why am I not surprised?" Drakken asked, rhetorically.

"Look, I'm sorry I'm not into all that science-y stuff and museums," Shego said, not sounding sorry at all. "I prefer to make my own history," she finished.

"Ah yes! Soon I will be in the history books! -"

"For saving the world," Shego reminded him, snidely.

"Thank you for harshing my mellow," Drakken sighed glumly.

"Look," Shego said, as they reached the hotel doors, "You go do your little sight seeing, I'll go to my well-deserved spa time, and we'll reconvene for dinner."

"Very well," Drakken said. He had been hoping to spend some more time with Shego, but he supposed that spending a few hours without her wouldn't be too bad.

Shego couldn't help but grin at the slight pout on Drakken's face. He could be such a baby sometimes. The pout vanished as Shego stood on her tiptoes and quickly pecked him on the lips.

"See you later, Dr. D!" Shego said, as she walked out of the hotel.

Drakken stood, a bit stunned by Shego's affection, at the door for a moment more, watching her go. When he regained himself, he too went onto the sidewalk. It was a beautiful May morning, and he was having difficulty deciding what he wanted to do first.

"Drew?" came a voice from behind him.

Drakken was jolted out of his inner struggle between the Air and Space museum versus the Museum of Natural History. He turned to look behind him, and his jaw almost dropped.

He hadn't heard from – much less seen – Karen Anderson for over twenty years. Drakken had met her a couple weeks after she had turned seventeen, he assumed – if he did his quick mental math correctly – that she should be just shy of forty now. She was tall, about 5'10", and had an athletic frame. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a messy knot at the nape of her long neck. She had a pair of lovely dark green eyes, a long nose, and a wide mouth. The only sign of age upon her were the few, soft wrinkles that were placed at the corners of her eyes and the outside of her mouth.

She was wearing a pair of old jeans, short black leather boots, a gray tank top and a pale yellow cardigan. A canvas messenger bag was slung over her shoulder; the whole look had the air of resale shops and discount bins.

"Karen," Drakken said, once he was able to find his voice.

She smiled. The feature was fitting on her; it made her eyes sparkle and her face glow.

"Hi," she said. The two just stood and stared at each other for a bit. Neither of them really knew what to say. What do you say to someone you haven't seen or heard in twenty plus years? Drakken continued to stare, in awe of the woman in front of him. Karen's fingers nervously tightened around the strap of her bag.

"How are you?" Drakken finally said, after gaping at her like an idiot for a good minute.

"Good! Good," Karen replied. "You?"

"Oh, you know," Drakken said, slurring over the words, not really knowing what to say.

Another moment passed before Karen spoke again.

"Um, are you free for lunch?" she asked. She didn't really know what she was doing, but she didn't feel like standing on the sidewalk to talk.

Caught off guard, all Drakken could think to say was, "Yeah. Sure."

Twenty minutes later, the couple found themselves sitting across from each other at a small café a few blocks from the Willard. The previous awkwardness between them had disintegrated, and they sat, chuckling and talking up a storm, waiting for their respective orders.

At the moment, Drakken was finishing up a story about the time he had tried to use memory recall via 3X5 cards. It had not been very successful, and Karen was laughing at the idea of Drew scribbling random, nonsensical words on note cards.

"So," Drakken said, switching gears, "you obviously know what I've been up to. It's been all over the news after all. How have you been?"

"I've been fine," Karen said, taking an inconspicuous sip of her lemon water. "I moved to Brooklyn and joined a dance company in 1990. Since then I've been performing, doing some teaching."

"Really?" Drakken asked, genuinely interested. In all honesty he didn't really care too much for dance. But he did – he had – cared about Karen. Even if he hadn't seen her for such a long time, he was still happy for her.

"Yeah. It's been great. We primarily do Modern, but we've dabbled in other genres. We do a few shows a year, travel; it's great." Karen said. She was purposely sidestepping anything too heady. She was still working up the guts to seriously talk to him.

"So, who's the girl?" Karen questioned slyly, grinning.

Drakken blanched slightly at the question. It wasn't accusing, but Karen implied, with her mischievous look, that she knew what he and Shego did last night. And this morning.

Drakken coughed into his fist, as he leaned nonchalantly back in his chair. "She's my sidekick. My partner. My . . . friend," he waffled.

Karen raised her eyebrows, and a small snicker escaped through her straight teeth. "You sly dog. You're totally hitting that!"

A lavender blush crossed Drakken's nose, and he grew hot behind the ears. "SO?" was all he managed to come up with.

Karen laughed openly, but not maliciously. "So, you still like them young, huh?"

"Please do not laugh at me."

"I'm sorry," Karen sighed, laughter winding down.

"It's not like she's a child. She's twenty-five," Drakken said, hotly. Almost immediately after saying that, he quickly added, "Please don't repeat that. She doesn't like talking about her age."

"Geez, if she can't revel in her mid-twenties, what's it gonna be like when she hits forty?" Karen said. Drakken shook his head as a response. "One more question."

Drakken looked at her, a bit exasperated.

"Just one more about her. I promise," Karen said. Drakken blinked at her, and twirled his hand as motion for her to continue. "Is Shego really her name?"

"No," he answered. Karen looked at him, expectantly. "I'm not telling you her real name; she won't let me call her by it, so what good is that information to you?"

"Fair enough," Karen said, raising her hands in surrender.

Their waiter bringing them their food briefly interrupted the conversation. After setting down their dishes, there was a further lull in discussion as the two began eating.

"At least she's not as young as you when we first met," Drakken muttered, mostly to himself. He knew he shouldn't be as ruffled as he was about Karen's comment about Shego's age, but he was still stuck on it.

"They don't get much younger than I was when we met," Karen said back. There was a certain playfulness in her eyes when she concluded with, "I had barely turned seventeen when we started dating."

The heat behind Drakken's ears returned. He knew that when they had dated, the age difference didn't seem like a big deal; she was seventeen, he had been twenty-one – almost twenty-two. Now, looking back on it, Drakken felt, for lack of a better word, dirty.

They sat, chewing in silence. Slowly, an uncomfortable feeling began to rise in Drakken's stomach. He suddenly became aware of how strange this situation was. Here he was, sitting across from an old flame, who he hadn't had any contact with for several years, talking and laughing like they hadn't missed a beat.

Drakken furrowed his brow, as he sifted through the French fries on his plate. An old flame who had left him – not even dumped – left him; the only courtesy being a hand written letter that she had left on the garbage-picked coffee table in their shabby one-room apartment. It had been April 12th 1985 when she left and he had found the note. They had been seeing each other for nearly eight months; living with each other for most of that time. And then, out of the blue, Karen had left. In the note she said she was sorry, it wasn't working, and that she was heading back to Connecticut, where her parents lived.

"Karen," Drakken began, picking his words carefully, "why are you here?"

Karen looked up from her chicken sandwich. She tried to look puzzled, but the quick flickering of her eyelids gave her away. It was an involuntary movement that happened when she tried to feign reposition, and Drakken knew that.

She looked back down at her plate; mouth slightly opened, as she tried to explain.

"I just thought," she uneasily began, "that I owed you an explanation."

'Fuck. I better just be straight forward.'

"I feel bad for how things ended," Karen continued.

"Yeah, well, you should," Drakken said. He didn't want to be angry with her, but it was logical emotion for the moment. In truth, Drakken wasn't truly bitter, but for some reason, he felt obligated to feel it.

Karen licked her lips, and said, "I do. But it's not the only reason I came-"

She broke off, as she reached into the bag hung over her chair. Her hands were beginning to shake and become clammy. Her fingers locked around the small album, she took a mental deep breath, and pulled it out. She set it on the table between them, and looked at him.

"What is it?" Drakken said, utterly confused.

"Just look at it, please," Karen said, softly. Gone was the strong front she had been putting on. She had slowly become paler, and she was visibly uncomfortable. Karen folded her arms, defensively, and sat back in her chair.

Bewildered, Drakken picked up the photo album, and looked back at Karen. Her eyes were focused on the salt and peppershakers on the table, purposely avoiding further eye contact. Drakken turned his attention to the photo album. He slipped his fingers under the cover and opened it.

The first picture was of a newborn baby. The date stamp in the lower right hand corner of the photo said that it had been taken on October 28th, 1985. The child, a girl, was lying naked, legs and arms in the air, partially swaddled by a hospital issued blanket. There was a tiny hospital bracelet circled around the child's left wrist, and there was a sort of twist-tie implement tied off around the newborn's severed umbilical cord.

The next photo was of Karen. She was propped up in a hospital bed, holding the baby from the previous page. The Karen in the picture was younger than the woman sitting in front of him. The time-date stamp was from the same day as the other photo. In it, Karen was flushed and tired looking, but she was smiling down at the small bundle in her arms. There was another woman in the frame, an older woman with shoulder length dark brown hair. The facial similarities between her and Karen hinted at a maternal-familial relationship - Her mother, and the child's grandmother. She, too, was not looking at the camera. Instead, she also was ogling the baby.

The next few pages in the album were of the baby in different stages of infancy: in her bassinette, on blanket lying under some plastic mobile thing, in a stroller that Karen was pushing, and so on.

As he flipped through the pages, Drakken's heartbeat began tapping at a strange rhythm. He didn't know what he was looking at yet, but the pieces were beginning to puzzle themselves together in his mind.

The next pages he perused over were of the girl as a toddler. The photos were not of the best quality, but he could see that she had grown long, scraggly locks of dark brown-black hair and her eyes were a strange shade of light brown. Her skin was a white and pristine as it had been when she was a baby. A few of the pictures featured the child playing on a beach. In a few photos, a man, who Drakken assumed to be the girl's grandfather appeared, holding the girl.

As Drakken continued to inspect the pictures, he began to notice that the facial expressions of the girl were hauntingly similar to pictures his own mother had of him from his youth. Drakken's throat began to tighten as he continued to look through the pages.

The pictures quickly began to pick up pace in terms of the child's aging. Fewer and fewer pictures caught her stages of development. Simultaneously, the girl appeared to grow more and more adverse to the camera. Her expressions shifted from the boundless excitement of adolescence and youth, to the stony unpleasantness of puberty and beyond. Within a couple pages, Drakken could see that the girl grew several inches within a couple of years – to a height rivaling that of her mother in 1997, when she would've been eleven or twelve. Even though she had grown great lengths in height, her weight did not appear to catch up; she was painfully scrawny.

There were a few graduation pictures next in the album. Drakken didn't know what stage in her educational career though. The girl, whose long locks had been cut into a messy pixie cut, barely looked to be fourteen in the picture, but the students around her, in matching caps and gowns, looked like they were in their late teens. Why would a child be dressed in graduation attire at a high school graduation?

Belatedly, Drakken noticed two, small dots placed on either side of her right eyebrow. Inwardly, he 'tut-tutted', 'Stupid facial piercings,' he thought.

The next picture was taken on the same day, June 1st 1999, by the photo's time stamp. It was of the girl and Karen. Drakken could now see that the girl had grown even more since the 1997 photoperiod. The young girl now stood, in black dress flats, several inches above her mother. He pegged her to be about as tall as he was – 6'3". Karen was smiling, and a faint, forced grin was stretched about her daughter's lips.

At once, Drakken was struck with the sheer magnitude of what he was looking at. The girl shared Karen's eye shape, her wide mouth, and her hair color, but that was it. Her long face shape, high cheekbones, sculpted nose, and ears were his. Even her height and the scraggly, unmanageable texture of her hair were familiar.

Drakken had involuntarily stopped breathing as he flipped through the last few photos. There were only about five left in the album. From the 1999 graduation photo, the album jumped to 2002 and another graduation. This time, instead of late spring, it appeared to be winter. Drakken judged this simply by how people were dressed in the last few photos – in long sleeves, coats tucked under arms, etc.

The last photos were all relatively the same. The participants were Karen, her daughter, and Karen's parents. The girl, who Drakken figured to be about eighteen at this point, was standing in the middle of the group, once again adorned in cap and gown. Along with the traditional ensemble, she was also wearing a colored sash and rope around her shoulders – signifying that she had graduated with some sort of honors.

He noticed that since the last ceremony, the girl had changed her hair color from black-brown, to an intense and shiny blue-black. Also, an array of small hoops and studs encircled the ridge of her ears; the eyebrow studs remained, too. Drakken couldn't help but notice that, while she was certainly not conventionally attractive, there was something in her facial structure and display that made her hauntingly and beautifully bewitching. Her looks were one of a kind that was for sure.

After the photos of the second graduation the album came to an end. Drakken closed the book, but didn't give it back. He continued to stare at the back cover, not knowing what to say or what to feel. He looked back at Karen, who had watched him nervously as he pawed through the photos. There were shallow pools of tears sitting at the base of her lower eyelids. Belatedly, Drakken realized that similar pools were clouding his vision.

Karen blinked. The motion destroyed the surface tension of the tears, and they quietly streamed down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Drew," she said softly, as she brought the tips of her fingers to her mouth.

Drakken blinked away the water in his eyes and set the album back on the table. It felt like he'd been sitting there for ages, but it had barely been ten minutes. He worked his mind furiously, trying to think of something to say.

Finally he came up with the appropriate question, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Karen shook her head slightly. "I dunno," she paused. "I was scared and confused, I guess. I didn't know I was pregnant until I was about two months along," she pursed her lips, trying to explain herself. "You had become distant, and I thought it was something I did. You'd spend your time . . . I don't even know where. I didn't know what to do. I didn't think you wanted a baby, so I left," she finished, lamely.

"So it's my fault? You didn't even talk to me about it," Drakken said. "If you had just talked – "

"Please," Karen spat hotly. "Talked? You never talked to me towards the end. Hell, you'd disappear for days at a time, not tell me where you were going, and come back without a word."

That shut Drakken up. It was true. He would leave Karen alone for two – three days, tops – in the one room apartment they 'rented' together, and he would go wander around. He had been in the process of trying to make connections and break into the villain world. In the months after he dropped out of college, the bitterness he felt towards his former classmates boiled up inside him, and he began to tire of his job at the bicycle repair shop and of playing 'house' with his young run-away of a girlfriend. By the time their relationship had disintegrated, Karen had been eighteen. And Drakken, supposed that, if he thought about it rationally, he couldn't blame her too much for leaving him, and leaving him unaware of her condition.

"What's her name?" Drakken asked, slightly abashed.

"Ronan," Karen said.

Drakken looked at her quizzically. "Isn't that a boy's name?"

Karen's face became icy. "Typically, yes. But there are plenty of names that go both ways: Casey, Alex, Elliot," she paused, smiled and said, "Drew."

Drakken frowned.

"It was my great-grandfather's name, and I always liked it," Karen explained with a shrug.

Drakken sat and looked at her, an avalanche of questions and thoughts crashing into his mind. He took up the album again, and began flipping through the photos. He stopped at the pictures from the first graduation.

He turned the book over so Karen could see. "What's this from?" he asked, tapping the picture for emphasis.

"Her high school graduation," Karen said. She paused briefly before she smiled sheepishly, and finished with, "she was fourteen."

Drakken's eyes grew wide with disbelief.

"She's really smart, Drew," Karen said softly. She was still smiling. Part of it was pride, and the other was that she knew he would be ecstatic to hear that his daughter was a genius. "She's really smart. She has an IQ of 165."

"What about this?" Drakken asked, flipping furiously through the album. He was shaking now, and he had involuntarily left his seat as leaned across the table. He stopped at the photos of the second graduation.

Again, Karen smiled with motherly pride. "Her graduation from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. She went there under a special program after high school. She graduated summa cum laude in three and a half years with a double major in mechanical engineering and nuclear science."

Drakken slowly sunk back into his seat. He had never really thought about having kids. Through out his adult life, he had assumed that nature was determined to end his genealogy with him, since he didn't have many significant relationships – besides Karen – to speak of. It really hadn't bothered him. But now, with this news that he had born a child, he was feeling the strangest combinations of emotions: anger at Karen for not telling him, astonishment and fear that he actually had a kid (an adult kid, nonetheless), pride that his daughter was a scientific genius like himself, and trepidation at what Shego was going to do and say when he told her.

He sat in the chair for a moment longer, looking over the photos again. Finally, he said, "I want to meet her."

Karen's smile faded all the way into a frown.

"What's the matter?" Drakken inquired. "You didn't seriously think that I wouldn't want to see her after you dropped this on me!" Finally, his unbridled feelings of anger had sunk into both the conscious and unconscious aspects of his psyche, and his vines began to creep out onto the table.

"Drew! What the," Karen sputtered as the botanical appendages began to slither across the table.

Drakken, who hadn't meant to lose control, quickly backtracked and tried to mentally call the vines back to him. It worked, and the plants retracted back into his body.

Karen stared at him, astonished. She knew from the ceremony pictures that he had this new 'plant power'. But actually being witness to it was slightly unnerving.

Karen sucked in a breath, and said, "I don't know where she is."

"What?"

Karen shifted in her seat uncomfortably. "Ronan and I are," she paused, trying to think how to word it. "We're not close," is what she decided to go with.

Drakken looked at her, waiting for further explanation.

Karen sighed, "Growing up, Ronan hit all of her mental development stepping stones, obviously. But she had couldn't – or wouldn't – socialize or play with kids her own age. She was always by herself, except when she got into fights," Karen stopped. "Granted, I probably didn't handle it in the best way, but I was frustrated that I couldn't control my own kid.

"I tried to ground her, take away things, but nothing seemed to work. If it hadn't been for her performance academically, Dad probably would've insisted on sending her to McHenry."

Drakken remembered Karen talking about McHenry Academy when they were together. It was a military boarding school that Karen herself had gone to when she became too much of a handful for her parents. To hear her tell it, McHenry was more a prison than a school: early curfews, uniforms, 'school-certified' guests, and so on.

"My parents helped me to send her a variety of psychiatrists to see if that would help. That's how we found out about her IQ. That was about the only good thing to come from those trips though," Karen's face grew dark.

The look Drakken gave her urged her to continue.

"The long and the short of it is: she has a combative personality. She's a loner, and has aggressive tendencies. Because of that and her age at the time, eight, the doctor's diagnosed her with conduct disorder. Now that she's over fifteen, that's graduated to antisocial personality disorder.

"She was prescribed some medicine. It kept her temper in check, for the most part at least. However, despite her treatment, we still never got terribly close. I suppose it's my fault," Karen said softly. "She used to ask about you, and I never told her a thing. I don't know why, but maybe if I did she would feel less betrayed, or something.

"All of that being said," Karen continued, "after she graduated from MIT she disappeared. I've only seen her about three times since then, and she graduated a little over three and half years ago."

"So why tell me about this now?" Drakken asked. He was still confused about that. If Karen had never told Ronan who her father was, and if Karen was not close to the girl, why bother telling him now?

Karen swallowed. "I saw her last night. She came to the apartment, and brought the picture of you and your partner. She realized who you were. She didn't say whether or not if she was going to get in contact with you, but, given her history, I didn't want to risk her doing something stupid. Besides," she continued, "I feel that I owed you the explanation."

Drakken leaned back in his chair, absorbing the information given to him. In the last few days, he had developed new plant powers, been abducted by aliens, saved the world, been bestowed an international honor, entered a romantic relationship with his partner, and now this. He had a kid. A problematic, genius kid. He began to notice how hot and stuffy the café was. The heat behind his ears had returned, and he felt sweat begin to build up on the back of his neck. His hands had suddenly become cold and clammy. He became overwhelmed with the urge to get up and leave the table. So he did.

Drakken got up from the table and left the restaurant so quickly, Karen had take a second to process the rapid movement. She snatched up the photo album, stuffed it in her bag, and followed him, leaving their food on the table, unpaid for.

Karen burst onto the sidewalk, looking both ways to see where Drakken went. He was a couple shops down from the café, heading in the direction of the Willard hotel. She began to speed walk, trying to catch up with him. As she closed in, she saw that he was on his cell phone, and as she was able to walk in tandem with him, she heard the tail end of his conversation.

"Please meet me back at the suite as soon as you can," he said, and flipped the phone shut.

"Left a message with Shego?"

He didn't answer.

"Drew," Karen said, grabbing a hold of his arm, trying to stop him.

He shook out of her grasp, but he did stop to look at her. "I'm sorry, Karen, but I need to talk to someone who isn't you at the moment."

"So what? You're going to seek the guidance of your twenty-five-year-old childless partner? What is she going to say?"

The two fixed each other with complimenting steely gazes. They stood there as people passed, some occasionally staring at them.

"Drew, I'm sorry," Karen said firmly. She sighed, and said, "I know she wants to meet you. I don't know the capacity in which she wants to meet you," inwardly, Karen had a brief vision of Ronan beating the crap out of her father, "but I'll need help in finding her."


Drakken and Karen went back to the Jefferson suite at the Willard. He didn't know what else the to do; he no longer felt like site seeing, and he didn't feel like being out in public anymore. He also did not feel like being around Karen at the moment, but he had little choice in that matter. In some deep, dark, paternal place inside of him, he wanted to meet Ronan, and he would need Karen's assistance to make that happen. While Karen didn't know where her daughter was, she would have a better idea than Drakken would as to where she might be.

Shego was not back from her spa day yet, so that left Karen and Drakken alone in the large suite. It was awkward to say the least. The anger Drakken felt towards the woman was resurfacing now. How could she not tell him? How dare she make such bold assumptions about him? She didn't even give him the chance to at least try and be a father. He probably would've sucked at it, but he didn't think it was her place to deny him the opportunity. After pacing around the suite's main room, in manner similar to his evil-plotting pace, he tossed himself into a large cushy chair.

Karen was sitting in the chair's mate, on the opposite side of the room. She was completely uncomfortable. In part, she was happy that she had finally bitten the bullet and told Drew about Ronan; that secret, and the guilt associated with it, had been eating away at her for years, and it was relieving to finally have it dealt with. However, she wasn't particularly pleased with man she had inadvertently procreated with. She found damn near nothing attractive about him: he was moody, self-centered, childish, and morally twisted. Karen wondered how and why Shego put up with it.

She wondered why she had put up with it years before. In the past, when Karen had pondered this, she usually chalked it up to her being a disgruntled teenager. She was a seventeen year old run-away, who disliked her parents and disliked the world her family lived in: galas, black and white balls, coming out parties, white debutant dresses and those stupid fans, vacations to Martha's vineyard, Republicans, the list went on and on.

And the more Karen thought about it, the more she realized that Drew had felt the same way. Granted, he hadn't disliked 'her' world, but he was fed up with the one he had come from: A smothering mother, a lack of true friends and recognition, and the expectation to fit into his society's norm. Karen tried not to think too hard about it, but she had to admit that she and he had more in common than she was comfortable in admitting. No wonder they had produced such an emotionally unstable offspring.

The time was now 3:00 in the afternoon. Neither had said a word since coming back from lunch. Karen knew that Drew would want to talk to Shego before they did anything. He had been the same way with her; if something was bothering Drew, he would wait until the end of the day, when he and Karen were both done with work, and endlessly rant to her about his current woes.

Finally, the muffled clinking and twisting sound of a key in a door broke the silence. Drakken jerked out his relaxed pose, and Karen unconsciously dug her short nails into her chair's upholstery. The door opened and Shego's voice came flowing into the room.

"Hey Dr. D! You here?" she asked, as she meandered through the suite's foyer and into the main room. Her arms were decorated with several shiny bags, "You should check out all the free swag I got from the spa! The front desk guy there told me to tell you that you're more than welcome to –"

Shego broke off as she realized that there was a stranger in the suite, and she noticed the dark mood in the room. Her eyes first fell on Karen, flicked to Drakken, and then back to Karen.

"Hello," she said slowly. "Drakken, who's this?"

Before Karen could introduce herself, Drakken grabbed Shego by the wrist and pulled her, bags and all, into his room. He shut the door behind her, and then turned to look at her.

"So who's the chick?" Shego asked, as she began to unload the bags from her arms.

"Um, w-well," Drakken stuttered. He could feel butterflies in his stomach and his fingers twitched at his sides, "she's er-"

"Yo, Dr. D," Shego said, snapping her freshly manicured fingers in his face, "I'm over here."

As Drakken tried to think how to tell Shego the news, his eyes had begun to wander all over the room.

"Sorry," he whispered sheepishly. Instead of actually looking at her, his fell to his feet.

"Doc, get a grip," Shego said. She was masterful at delivering lines that sounded like verbal eye rolls. "We just defeated super-sized aliens and got excused from all our 'bad behavior'. Whatever has you all wound up can't possibly be that bad."

"I have a kid," Drakken said bluntly, and a little louder than was necessary.

Shego's posture and expression didn't change. "I'm sorry, what?"

Drakken exhaled, and said, "Karen is an old girlfriend –"

Shego snickered.

"I don't think you're really in place to make a comment on that," Drakken spat. Shego shut up. "Anyway, I haven't seen her in over twenty years and she showed up today to tell me that I fathered her daughter."

Shego blinked languorously at him. "Are you kidding me?" she asked.

"What?"

"Geez, Dr. D, use your head!" she yelled, tossing up her hands, "You just gained international fame and recognition! You really think that this is a coincidence? I wouldn't be surprised that, within the next couple of weeks, every single girl you tried to ask out in your nerdy youth comes forward and tries to get in your pants!"

Drakken stared at Shego. Honestly, he hadn't thought about that. He supposed that on some level she was right – she usually was, after all. However, as much sense Shego was making, he knew that Karen did not drop this news on him as a means to try and snag herself fifteen minutes of fame. If that was her goal, why not just go directly to various news organizations?

"What makes you think what she says is true?" Shego asked. "Did she show up with some paternity test?"

"No," Drakken answered. "She showed me some photos of her daughter."

"And what? You just believed her?"

"I know she's not lying."

"Drakken, please. Your gut does not have a good track record for being right. That's one of the reasons why Kimmie defeated us so many times!"

"Nnngrh!" Drakken steamed, pulling at his hair. He really didn't need to be berated right now. He just wanted Shego to tell him that things were going to be okay, and that they'll get through it. Internally he winced, as he realized how 'un-Shego-ish' that response would've been.

While the doors of the suite were thick and sturdy, they were not soundproof, and Karen could hear every word of the one-sided argument. She couldn't blame Shego for being suspicious; she would've been if she had been in Shego's shoes. However, Karen was a bit annoyed that she was being accused of lying. Not only lying, lying to gain some scandalous fame. Not having even had a one-on-one with Shego, Karen decided that she didn't care for her much.

As Karen sat, in her chair, she figited: tapping her toes, crossing and uncrossing her arms and her legs. Her mind began to flood with thoughts of her conversation with Ronan the night before. Karen was surprised, but grateful, that she had gotten to Drew before her daughter did. That being said, she wondered where Ronan went after she left the apartment, if she had not gone to find her father.

As Karen tried to drum up ideas as to where Ronan was, there was a knock at the suite's door. Karen lifted her chin from her hand and looked in the direction of the sound. She looked back at the door to the room where Drew had led Shego. Karen heard Drew's voice match Shego's volume. The din that their voices created was now so loud that the volume cancelled out any discernible words. That being said, neither one of them had heard the knock, so it went unanswered.

About fifteen seconds later, whoever was out in the hall knocked again. This time twice, in rapid succession, and more forceful than the first. Karen shifted to the edge of her chair, debating whether or not she should get Drew or answer the door herself.

The choices became null as the door burst open, flying off the hinges, and two men stepped into the suite. Karen shot up from her seat and Drakken and Shego came flying out of his room. Shego was in defense mode: teeth bared and hands glowing. Drakken stood, almost protectively, slightly in front of Karen.

The two men who had entered were both dressed in non-descript black suits, with crisp white dress shirts, and a black tie looped around each of their necks. They looked like your stereotypical CIA agents. The white male's hair was shaven down into an extreme buzz cut, and the intensity of his blue eyes and angled brows would've been enough to persuade a common crook into submission. He was just under six feet, but the top of his long head just barely reached that of his counterpart's shoulders.

The other man was African American, and positively enormous. He had to be at least seven feet tall. Where he had found a tailor to fit a suit to his massive frame was anyone's guess. His face was etched with lines, and the top of his head was as slick as a cue ball.

The shorter of the two eyed Shego with bemused interest.

"Hello," Derek cooed.

"Let's bypass the banter, shall we?" Shego barked. The hotel had promised Drakken and herself that no unauthorized guests would be let up to their suite, and the fact that they had barreled down the door led Shego to rightly believe that they were not friendly company.

Letting out an animalistic snarl, she lurch forward, claws first at the offending speaker. What happened next, happened so quickly that no one was entirely sure what occurred. Once Shego's feet left the floor, she sailed towards Derek. As her body closed in on him, Derek nimbly reached into his suit coat, and pulled out something neither Drakken nor Karen could make out as Shego completed her leaping attack. She and Derek tumbled to the floor, and through the grunts and snarls, there was a muffled 'pop'.

Shego jumped off of Derek and clumsily got to her feet, holding on to the edge of a corner table for support. Her other hand was over her the top of her left breast, near her armpit. In between her fingers, there was a clear, slim vial, the needle of which was stuck into her skin. She tore it from her skin and tossed it across the room as her vision began to blur. She suddenly became hyper-aware of her breath – ragged, shaky, and hollow inside her head. It felt like her body was slowly being filled cement, and her limbs were too heavy to move. Despite all this, she turned back to try and look at Drakken. He was across the room and fuzzy. She tried to lift her foot to pivot towards him, but the movement was too difficult. Her legs twisted her and crumpled beneath her, smacking her head on the floor as she went down. Somewhere above her, she heard Drakken call her name. She tried to answer, but found that her tongue and lips wouldn't work to form words. Her vision was quickly shifting from fuzziness to black. Soon, the only sense she had was that of her breath and heart beat pounding in her head, and, soon, that was gone too.

"What did you do to her!" Drakken yelled, taking a step closer to Derek. Vines were beginning to creep out of his shirt again.

Derek, who had gotten up as soon as Shego stumbled to the table, opened his suit coat again and was about to place his small handgun with suppressor back into his inside pocket when he saw Drakken's vines advancing towards him. Derek quickly took aim and fired. The dart lodged itself near Drakken's jugular. Since Drakken didn't have near the same stamina as Shego, he fell down and passed out immediately.

"You wanna whip out some pain-in-the-ass power, too?" Derek asked, pointing the weapon in Karen's direction.

Involuntarily, Karen's hands shot up in surrender.

"No. No!"

"Derek! Put that away," the black man scolded. He had an accent, but Karen couldn't distinguish it. If she had to venture a guess – solely based on movies and TV shows she had seen – he was from the Sudan or somewhere in that area.

The man slowly walked towards Shego and bent down to check her pulse. Derek stowed away his gun, not taking his watchful eyes off of Karen.

"Who are you?" Derek asked.

Karen didn't answer. She was watching the other man go over the Drakken and check his pulse.

"What did you do to them?" Karen whimpered. Tears were beginning to fill her eyes.

"They are fine," the black man said, taking careful steps towards her. Karen flinched as he came within three feet of her person. He sighed and said, "My name in John-Paul. That's Derek," he said, nodding his back, indicating his partner. "We are here to protect the doctor and the girl."

"Protect them?" Karen said in disbelief.

"Yes – "

"It's complicated," Derek interjected. "And now, even more so, since you're here."

"You're going to have to come with us," John-Paul said, as kindly as he could. "We cannot leave any witnesses behind."

Karen stopped breathing at the giant's words. Her brain scrambled around, trying to come up with a convincing excuse for them to let her go.

"No. Please," she stumbled, "I . . . I have to find my daughter."

Derek's eyes widened. "That's where I've seen you!"

"What?"

"Look, Ms. Anderson," Derek said, stepping forward, "you get two choices in this situation: One, you can come quietly and willingly. Or, two, drugged," he jerked his head in the direction of Drew and Shego's limp bodies.

Karen's mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

'How does he know my last name?'

Silent tears of confusion and terror streamed down her cheeks.

"Ms. Anderson," John-Paul said in a comforting voice, "I am sorry but you will have to come with us." There was a moment as she looked into his brown eyes. What he said next, he said so quietly that only he and Karen could hear it, "We can take you to Ronan."


Karen did not question them. She didn't try to run off as they walked through the lobby of the Willard, John-Paul and Derek wheeling a bellhop cart between them that was loaded with two over-sized suitcases that Drakken and Shego were stuffed into. She didn't yell for help as John-Paul assisted her into the back seat of black SUV waiting for them outside in the hotel's looped drive. She didn't try to tuck and roll out of the vehicle as Derek drove it out of Washington D.C., into the mid-Atlantic countryside. She did not fight them as they unloaded her and the suitcases onto the tarmac of a secluded air base.

John-Paul led her towards a solitary private jet parked just outside a hanger; he was wheeling the two suitcases on a pushcart in front of him. Karen glanced behind her, and she saw Derek speaking to an older gentleman by the SUV. The conversation appeared to be all business. At one point, Derek adjusted his coat in such a manner that he must've revealed that he was carrying. The other man stiffened visibly, but didn't concede in any other way. As the exchange concluded, Derek reached deep into his coat again, and pulled out a large manila envelope and handed it to the gentleman. The man quickly peaked inside, nodded, and took Derek's hand, which he had extended.

"Watch your step, Ms. Anderson," John-Paul cautioned.

They had reached the mobile stairs to get into the jet. Karen took a breath and shakily ascended the steps. John-Paul passed on the suitcases to a young man wearing a short-sleeved shirt with a patch on the arm, indicating he was an employee of the case. He wheeled the suitcases to an elevated conveyor belt; loaded them on to it, and the bags were lifted into the plane.

As Karen entered the jet, John-Paul breezed by her so he could catch Drew and Shego before they fell off of the conveyor belt and onto the plane's floor. He gently set each bag on the floor, and unzipped them. He propped Drew up in a chair, and handcuffed him there, with two separate cuffs. He assembled Shego is much the same manner.

"I realize that this all looks bad," John-Paul said, eying Karen's worried expression, "But we aren't here to harm any of you."

Karen didn't believe him. But what could she do about it? There was a sudden pounding of footsteps coming up the stairs, and Derek entered the jet.

"We'll be ready to take off in about five minutes," he said to John-Paul.

John-Paul nodded, finishing handcuffing Shego to her seat, and walked up the aisle towards Karen.

"Please, sit down. I don't want Derek to have to drug you too," he said, sympathetically.

A fresh wave of silent tears glided down Karen's face as she reluctantly nodded her head. She walked passed him, sat a seat down from where Drew was placed, and unsteadily buckled herself in.

John-Paul grimaced at the sight, and sat down in a seat outside of the cockpit. Shortly there after, Derek exited the cockpit and took the seat across from John-Paul.

A minute later, the plane's engines roared to life, and it maneuvered itself down the runway. Karen's stomach lurched as she felt the wheels leave the ground. Maybe she shouldn't of told Drew today.


A/N: Whew! That was looooong! Thanks for hanging in there. I know I said that Kim and Ron would be back, but nooooo... Sorry 'bout that. They WILL be in the next chapter. Promise. Please leave a review on the way out!