Note: This chapter will be from Sheridan's point of view and thusly will contain lots of swearing. Be cautious your immortal souls.

Please understand that anything off color I say in these writings are simply there to flesh out the characters. My personal opinions are never predominantly placed in the forefront of my writing.

Kim Possible: Reaching You

Chapter 6

It was three weeks ago that Sheridan sat in the backseat of her parents' personal limousine curled into a ball and with her feet on the nice, clean leather seat in that way that just infuriated her mother. It was just one way she could think to piss off the matriarch, as speaking was simply out of the question. Sheridan refused to acknowledge them with speech; she probably never would again.

They'd spent the entire trip to Middleton explaining to her why they were doing this to her. Well, mostly her father explained. Ouren Go was the only rational one in her entire family and the polar opposite of her mother. Myra Go, Mrs. Mayor of Go City and resident Ice Queen, had given up on her daughter's silent treatment halfway into the trip.

Sheridan barely took glances out the window as the vaguely familiar surroundings passed by. She'd been to Middleton on rare occasion, usually for galas in Upperton and sometimes to stay in their summer home on the line that separated the two cities. It was where they were headed now and where they would allow her to stay before shipping her off to the Possible residence for the entire school year. She couldn't even take her things with her outside of clothes.

"Sheri baby," her father tried one last time to reach her. "Don't let us separate like this. You don't have to be happy with us, but you can't just let us leave without hearing your voice."

Her father's tone and softness always made her feel safe and loved. She loved her dad immensely, her mother less so, but she still loved her. She wanted to speak to him, because the legitimate hurt in his voice hurt her in return. She wasn't a daddy's girl, but she wanted to be held by him because she was in pain right now.

But that pain was brought on by their machinations. The two people who were supposed to be there for her at all times, no matter what, were now exiling her from her home and her life. She didn't do anything wrong and she was being cruelly punished for it. And it had been her parents' decision in the end.

She looked at her father, a handsome man even in his late thirties with slicked back, jet black hair and a goatee and mustache combo that was trimmed immaculately. He was short, barely taller than Sheridan, but he was stocky and athletic. Age lines crept from the edges of those pain filled eyes and she almost felt bad for him. Almost.

"Don't treat your father like this is his fault," Myra's commanding voice echoed in the limo. "You didn't give us any other recourse."

Sheridan glared at her mother, the woman who looked a little too much like an older version of herself even down to the sparkling, emerald eyes. What was different was her dark chocolate colored hair that lay over her shoulder in a professionally styled ponytail. While Sheridan's dad was the warm, understanding one, her mother was the one devoid of anything resembling empathy. Her accusatory eyes were more than indicative of that mentality.

Despite her silence vow, Sheridan couldn't help an outburst, "You had plenty of recourses. You could have taken my side for once."

Myra frowned deeper, "You assaulted a man in broad daylight and nearly beat him to death. Your justifications for that don't negate the action, young lady."

"He had it coming."

"That isn't for you to decide."

"Then who decides it!?" she slammed her fist into the door. "The police who will just slap his wrist and send him on his way because we don't have sufficient evidence against him!?"

"We have lawyers and investigators for this very thing," Ouren tried to rationalize it calmly. "We aren't saying we don't believe you, because we do. But your cowboy, street justice routine was not the way to resolve this."

"How can you expect me to sit by while he went another day going to that school? The guy was a creep and he blackmailed girls with grades. Do you want to know what he did to one of my friends?! The one who refuses to open up about it!? How can you send me to that school when I accuse someone of being a fucking child molester!?"

"Language, Sheridan," her father said with a sternness she wasn't accustomed to. "I would have brought the city of Go down on that school if something had happened to you and I still intend to for those girls. But this isn't about him anymore. This is about you and this violent streak you've been on."

She huffed, crossed her arms and slammed against the seat.

"You think you can just punch your problems away?" Myra asked. "What happens when you finally come up against someone you can't take? Do I have to watch my daughter get injured or killed before you wise up? What happens when your father and I finally make you angry enough to hurt us?"

Sheridan didn't even think to stop the look of slight fear and hurt that took her, "I wouldn't do that."

"What would happen if your brothers stepped over your little line in the sand?"

Her mind shot to her four brothers. Hector, the older one with the please everyone mentality and the self-righteous smugness. Melvin, the quiet, younger one with the chip on his shoulder. Wendell and Wesley, the twins with those big, adorable, kid eyes looking up to her as their protective, big sister.

"I'd never hurt them," Sheridan whispered.

"Forgive us if we disagree," Myra wanted to sound temperamental, but pain was evident in her words. "You have a short fuse and you show no remorse for hurting others. That mindset is going to ruin you and I'm not letting it explode when my family is nearby."

"I'm your goddamned family!" the teen's eyes watered. "Is this what you do to your kids?! Ship them off when it gets difficult!?"

"You were expelled, Sheridan," Ouren was done being nice. "We had to abuse our power, something we've never done, to keep you out of juvenile detention and we had to bother two close friends to give you a home and school for the year. The Possibles are good people and you will treat them with respect."

Sheridan was fighting back tears, so she didn't trust herself to continue a tirade as the limo pulled to a stop without any of them noticing they'd arrived. Sheridan immediately exited the limo and stomped across the wide, expansive front lawn of their summer home. They had several acres of city property owned to cordon off their house and give it more room. The natural surroundings barely detracted from the city smell and the towering buildings of Upperton.

"Sheridan!" her father called as they both exited the limo and Driver began to unload some luggage she'd need.

She stomped back to the car, head low to avoid their eyes.

"Take care of her, Driver," Ouren said to the other man.

"She shall not go wanting," the chauffeur promised with a nod.

Sheridan snatched her luggage from the driver and stalked away once more, intent on heading for her room inside the empty house.

"Please say goodbye," Ouren called softly. "At least give us that."

Sheridan stopped and felt the anger that burned her insides mix with the sadness of betrayal. She remembered the looks on her brother's faces as they'd been given the news that their sister would be gone for a year. Hector and Melvin had been sad, but silent. The twins, however, had cried for so long. They begged their parents not to take her, begged Sheridan to stay and not leave them. White hot anger overtook her and she turned with holy anger and fresh tears.

"Goodbye and go to hell! Take a good last look, because I don't want either of you coming back to get me! I don't want to see either of you ever again!"

She'd never seen such pain on her father's face, as though she'd physically assaulted him. Even her mother's stern visage cracked under her hate and she felt ashamed and enraged at the pain she'd caused these people who she'd loved once. She wanted to be held by them, held by someone who fucking cared but she wouldn't have that anymore.

She hurried into the house while fumbling the keys in the lock and kicking the door open as she tossed her luggage on the first floor and bolted for her room on the second floor. It was just how she'd left it, but she didn't bother taking in the familiar scenery. She only had time to shove her face into her pillow before the torrent of sorrow she'd been holding back spilt over into a succession of pitiful sobs.

She hated crying! Fucking princesses cried and she wasn't some helpless bimbo or spoiled child. She was supposed to be badass; she was supposed to be strong, but these tears wouldn't stop and she hated them for invading her face against her control. However, after all that anger and hate had diminished, all she had left was the sorrow and her whimpering. She was now alone.

"Young master?" Driver was suddenly at her door and she wished she'd closed it.

"Go away!" she screamed into the pillow.

"I feel that is the last thing I need to do," his voice was low and pained.

She liked Driver a lot. She'd known him for six years, ever the faithful driver for their family and so many others, but he was so much more than a hired help. He was just so sincere that you couldn't hate him. Even when she'd commanded him to call her young master when she was younger, he'd done it with such sincerity that she couldn't help but enjoy his presence.

"I'll be taking your parents back to Go City," he continued, "but I will return soon. If there is anything you need before I go…"

She didn't answer because she had no words left. She merely breathed into her pillow and sobbed several more times before the driver simply walked away.

The days between her arrival and her first day of her new school were a time to overcome that sorrow. In its place burned a fiery anger that she allowed to simmer just below her skin. She hadn't been exactly popular at school, so she had no qualms over alienating herself from others. She had no intention of making friends. Damn people and damn the concept of friendship.

She'd had friends, but they were now too far away to see and that was all it usually took for teenagers to forget those most important to them. By the time she returned to Go, they would have moved on if they hadn't already abandoned her due to the rumors of her violent outburst. That was perfectly fine; Sheridan was past the point of feeling loss anyway.

She'd thrown in her ear buds before Driver had even dropped her off to class. She couldn't wait for her own ride to arrive in the city so she could truly be alone and free from the chauffeur's worried glances. Avril Lavigne played in her ears and helped her drift away into autopilot as she entered the school and awaited her class assignments.

She sort of wished she still had her t.A.T.u albums, but she discarded those after one of the band members made disparaging remarks against gay men. It was a lame reason to ignore good music, but these were the things that usually grinded her gears. She sometimes wondered how many more records she'd discard if everything stupid someone said was public knowledge.

It wasn't long before she found herself waiting outside their homeroom class and standing next to the three other students who were also cast from their homes to this place. Two attractive Asians and a gorgeous Latino; at least she wouldn't be hurting for eye candy this year if they were any indication. She was almost sorry she wouldn't be able to mingle, but she was far too angry to care about social norms.

Homeroom was also the first moment she saw her. The redhead was difficult to miss, her fiery trusses making a beacon amidst the more naturally colored heads. She knew her from photos, but she'd known about her long before this day. At galas, the Possibles spoke incessantly about their brilliant kids: the twin boys who were already applying their intimate knowledge of rockets into actual inventions. Those kids were going places if the stories were any indication.

Then there was Kim Possible: perfection in the form of a scrawny, doe eyed, prissy little princess who smiled with perfect teeth and swished her perfect hair when she walked about. Her grades were perfect, her attitude was perfect, adults and teens alike loved her and it made Sheridan's stomach spin like it were constructed as a centrifuge.

Sheridan hated her before she even met her. Immature? Probably, but who could honestly see anything when they saw her but the world's biggest kiss ass and brown noser? Even walking by her sent bristles through the green girl's body that somehow placed her into a fouler mood. Avril's volume rose as Sheridan reached her desk and returned her ear bud after introducing herself curtly. The redhead took a glance and Sheridan made sure to repay her curiosity with the biggest fuck off stare she could manage.

Sadly, that stare only seemed to increase her curiosity when, during her lunch period, Kim took a seat next to her and tried to make nice. Despite her mood, Sheridan was still surprised by the girl's bluntness of wanting to welcome her despite watching her shoo away everyone who'd attempted thus far. Still, the sight of her and her chipper voice did little to cull the ferocity raging in the dark haired girl's gut, so she politely invited her to fuck off and tried to leave.

Then she'd grabbed her jacket sleeve and scowled with a vengeance and Sheridan somehow halted her response of decking the little bitch for her gumption. Her fist squeezed tightly, almost painfully, but she refrained like she knew she could. She wasn't a loose cannon. She knew when and where to unleash her fury and she could control it.

"If hitting me will make you feel better, then do it. Just don't think that you have to do this alone."

The girl's words shocked her just long enough to dissipate that hate filled mask she'd worn since entering the school. She regained her composure quickly, but in place of her resentment was now a slight appreciation for the girl. Kim really meant it; she really was giving Sheridan the option of slugging her. Apparently, the princess had a tough bone hidden somewhere in her dainty little body.

Still, Sheridan wasn't intent on doing anything more than jerking away and exiting the cafeteria. She had to get out of there before anyone else pushed her buttons enough to warrant a response she wasn't intent on holding back.

Junior seemed to be volunteering his face the more she interacted with him. The gorgeous Latino had introduced himself with aplomb and enough self-appreciation to humble even the most ardent egotist.

"Pardon, my green apple of temptation," he began in the midst of class. "I could not help but noticing that you are beautiful and I am also beautiful. It seems a crime against nature for us to be separate."

Never before had a longer sentence been spoken that conveyed so little intelligence. The boy had an undeserved sense of accomplishment that would put even the most idiotic Kardashian to shame. She'd ignored him, of course, but he seemed too stupid or too tenacious to give up so easily.

"Your sour disposition is heart wrenching, my dear. They say that passion cures all ails."

"Really?" she grimaced. "Interesting theory. Hows about I break one of your chicken legs and I sit back and watch you try to passion it back together."

"I have succeeded in eliciting a response," he wiggled a single eyebrow.

He seemed damned proud and Sheridan, for all of her anger, simply couldn't bring herself to verbally destroy the guy. It was like picking on the retard in class.

"How about a deal?" she offered as she visibly admired that muscular body that looked built for lifting. "You come help me unpack my shit at my new house and you get my phone number as a reward."

He didn't look pleased about manual labor, but he took little time to ponder it before replying, "Agreed. I am delighted you have seen the wiseness of my words."

"Wiseness isn't a word," she mumbled and returned to her headphones, smiling internally over having secured a workhorse for the move.

True to his word, Junior followed her home and helped Driver unpack her crap into that tiny space the Possibles called a guest room. James and Ann were downright pleasant and happy to see her and she faked delight if for no other reason than to keep them from sitting her down and having a heart to heart. James had a voice that seemed perfect for that shit.

The twins seemed indisposed, which was good since Sheridan had no desire to see them and be reminded of Wendell and Wesley back home, the only family members who weren't assholes. Their memories tugged at her heartstrings, which only served to make her angrier.

Then, Kim had come home and seemed surprised to see the girl was moving in. Sheridan attempted scowling as before, but she found it a tad harder than previous times. It wasn't just the lunchroom scene either, as the redhead had caused a slight ruckus in gym by cheering on the new girl, Yori. That had actually impressed Sheridan, as Kim and her cronies did not seem like the kind to make others feel welcome.

Kim was becoming difficult to figure out, a plus for anyone, but she was still a perfect little princess that annoyed the piss out of her, even if it was to a lesser extent now. Sheridan had succeeded in blowing Junior off like the ponce that he was and doubly succeeded in keeping him interested by playing hard to get.

She was angry now, sure, but she wouldn't always be that way. She'd had enough time to simmer to the point she was actually interested in maybe, probably taking the boy up on his offer for nice, expensive food one night. She wasn't an old maid and appreciated any boy as good looking as Junior.

That being said, she still banished everyone from her personal space, including Kim, in an effort to appear reclusive. In fact, this was only a ploy to convince the others to give her space as she napped and prepared for a little field trip later that night after everyone had gone to bed.

And, as indicative of their boring, apple pie lives, everyone was in their own rooms sooner than ten. This was going to be too easy. She chuckled as she threw on some appropriate clothes for her night activity: black muscle shirt with a thin, green jacket and loose fitting, dark jeans. They were her favorites and even still showed the war wounds of her previous field trips.

She admired the dirt and blood stains that could never be removed as she snuck oh so easily out of her room at just a little past eleven and out to her car that Driver had delivered that night. She grinned as the sports car turned over with almost no sound and she pulled away towards the night district of Middleton.

The strip of bars and clubs was dramatically smaller than the one in Go City, but she was certain she'd find precisely what she was looking for. She made sure to park in a well-lit section to deter car thieves and began a random march around the busier bars in the area. It was several blocks and it was just that time of night that the real partyers would start their bar hopping. She meandered around the entrances until she'd found what she'd been searching for.

Outside a rundown bar named Tifa's Seventh Heaven, she saw a group of four burly, surly men creating a ruckus with drunken fervor. They hooted and hollered like inebriated hyenas and two even nipped at the random passersby that gave them dirty looks. They appeared itching for a fight and that was her plan.

She sauntered by them, cockily strutting as she gave an animated once over to the bar they stood beside. Nothing irritated drunks more than someone who clearly didn't belong in their element, namely a sixteen year old girl.

"You lost, kid?" a mustachioed man asked.

"Just browsing," she said dismissively without even glancing towards him.

"They don't sell apple juice in there," another bearded, bald man slurred. "And if you're looking for milk, it's back in your mamma's teets."

The lot of them seemed to find that hilarious. Even Sheridan chuckled at the man's use of the word teet.

"Apple juice is better than that piss you morons love," she grinned at them. "And if I wanted teet milk, it looks like you boys have enough man-tit to suffice."

They actually laughed at that, but they also converged on her as a group, save for a hesitant one in back. She could tell they were itching for someone to cross them just so they could outnumber the poor sap and claim they'd whipped their ass with little effort. Drunks and their shameless senses.

"You talk a big game for a little girl," he said as he towered over her by more than a foot.

"I'm not looking for a game, little man," she smiled smugly.

"Maybe she's looking for someone to show her a good time," Mustache said. "I can think of a few positions."

One of the less drunk men said, "Jesus, man, she's like fourteen. Don't be a fuckin' creep."

"Hey, she's the one walking around at this time of night and flirting with us. If she wants to act like a woman, maybe she wants to be handled like one. The touch of a real man."

"Intriguing," she yawned. "Let me know when you see real men around here."

Her insults were juvenile, but they were all that was needed. Mustache grabbed her collar, was in the midst of opening his mouth to threaten her when she acted. All she'd needed was for him to make the first move. Once he'd grabbed her, it had officially become self-defense.

Sheridan was pissed and there was only one thing that could relieve the anger and frustration. The one thing that had placed her in the predicament she'd found her life in these past few days. It was all she had and she didn't care about the rights and wrongs of the situation now.

She spun and yanked him forward and down so quickly he never knew what had happened. As soon as his head went level with her chest, she threw a knee upward and into his chin. He was out before he'd straightened back up and eventually timbered back over onto the sidewalk, unconscious and drooling like the dumb ape he was.

Her satisfied grin was knocked off as the others wasted no time in jumping her, the first man striking her hard across the cheek. That only served to light that fire that was slowly raging into an out of control blaze. Only two assaulted, as the sensible man from before yelled useless, calming warnings that his friends were too sloshed to obey.

They were strong as one pitched her forward and she landed side and elbow first against the pavement. She was up before she'd finished rolling and dove back into the fray clumsily. She'd studied martial arts, but she never really applied them when in the heat of a fight and she didn't now. She just wanted to hurt someone, to dole out all the emotions she felt in the form of fisticuffs.

It alleviated some of her anguish when she leapt forward and caught the biggest man square in the face with a flying kick. He stumbled back as she righted herself and managed to land on all fours. The only fighter left standing swung for her, but she was far too quick and dodged him easily. She saw him grow more frustrated as she dipped around his attacks.

One miss too many and she scored a solid punch to his temple, spinning him onto his chest and knocking the wind from him. She laughed, but it was muffled by a sudden blow to her face that made her see stars and possibly busted her nose. The telltale trickle of blood was ignored as she zoned in on the puncher and chopped his throat.

He sputtered and grasped his neck, coughing as he fell and lost his will to fight. She stalked the previous man, intent on pummeling him further when the sensible man stepped before her and threw out a warding hand to halt her. He was just far enough out of her reach that she didn't break his hand.

"You've made your point, kid," he spoke evenly. "Leave them with what little dignity they have left."

She breathed heavily as the adrenaline still pushed its way through her system. She still wanted to fight, still wanted to dominate these oafish morons, but the sensible guy had thrown her off. Sheridan had no qualms against violence and had experienced enough cocksure individuals to make it easier every time, but it was rare to find someone levelheaded in a brawl. She may be temper prone, but she refused to wallop someone who was actively seeking non-violent means.

Mr. Sensible was hefting his coughing friend by an arm but spoke to her, "I suggest going home before someone calls security. Our fight didn't go unnoticed in the bar."

"How noble," she smirked. "Sounds like a good idea. Make sure to put enough ice on your boys' egos. They seem most bruised."

He shot her a disgusted look, "My friends may be jerks and perverts, but you were the one who was actively seeking a meaningless fight with them. What does that make you?"

Some fire returned to her, "Excuse me!?"

He didn't even flinch, didn't raise his fists to fight, "You obviously came out here to deal with an issue or two. You have a problem and decided instead of confronting it you'd make my boys your problem. Either that or you're a sadist. I pray it's the former."

"What are you, a psychologist?"

He actually gave her a look of pity, which raised fire into her throat, "It doesn't take a psychologist to see you have problems, kid. For your sake, I hope you get help."

She clenched her fists so tightly that she almost drew blood, "I didn't need help trouncing your goon buddies and I won't ever need help! So, fuck you and your sanctimonious act!"

The other two men were finally up and staggering. The perv from earlier made like he was about to continue their brawl, but cooler heads prevailed as his friends held him at bay with minimal effort. She'd certainly done a number on them.

Mr. Sensible, almost as though he were the leader, cocked his head as a command for them to go inside the bar. He followed, but gave her one last piece of advice before leaving.

"Three of us have families waiting at home to make sure we're okay. Instead of seeing us as drunken buffoons to smack when you're angry, try thinking about the wives and children who have to see their loved ones in this state. Imagine what your parents will think when you get home. Was it worth the little bit of pride if it ends up hurting them?"

He didn't give the answer, but instead turned away and stepped inside, leaving a growling, infuriated Sheridan alone in the dead of night. She'd felt so powerful after the fight, so in control of everything. Now, she had those pointless questions assaulting her brain and she hated the guy for placing them in her head.

She spun on her heel and made for her car, punching every brick wall, stop sign, or pole she passed in a vain attempt at stifling the anger that seemed eternal in that moment. Fuck him for making her question herself! Fuck him for playing with her mind like he had the right!

Fuck him for being right, she thought as the anger dissipated and now shame overtook her.

She had nothing to be ashamed about! Who cared who they were!? They were just as raring for a brawl as she was and at least she wasn't the one ganging on a teenager! She flopped into her driver's seat and peeled out, leaving behind black marks as she sped back to the Possible residence. She refused to call it home.

There was no one there that cared. Her parents weren't there and they didn't care anyways. Her brothers weren't there and they never would be. James and Ann couldn't possibly care about a delinquent they'd been burdened with for a year. She'd go inside and crawl in bed and nurse her wounds alone…just like she always would.

But she had been wrong. Waiting in that house had been someone who did care. Waiting inside had been a person who'd had no legitimate reason to care, but she'd gone out of her way to nurse Sheridan's injuries despite what she may have thought of the girl.

Waiting inside that house she refused to call a home…had been Kim Possible.