A/N: Onward!
Disclaimer: I still don't own squat. :(
"So, what do you guys think?" Kim asked Ron and her parents as they exited the study.
"It was an interesting story," Ron answered. Rufus nodded in agreement.
"I don't like the idea about waiting for Cutting to make first move. If he's up to something, why not nip him in the butt?" Kim whispered.
"I know it's out of the ordinary for you Kimmie," her mother responded, "but if Mr. Rooke has dealt with this man before, then it might be a good idea to follow his lead."
"I guess. I still don't like it, though. This whole sitch is just . . . " Kim broke off, unable to think of an appropriate adjective.
"You know, thinking back on it," her dad broke in, "I guess Karen does look a little familiar."
"She another school chum, Mr. Dr. P?" Ron asked.
"No. I don't think so. I just remember a young girl hanging out around campus that looked a lot like her. Right before Drew dropped out."
Kim half listened to her father's recollection, half thought about Rooke's story again. She was suddenly pulled out of her head when, out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of green and black. She glanced into the room they were passing and saw Shego leaning against the room's far wall, staring out the adjacent window.
"You guys keep going," Kim interrupted. "I'll catch up."
Ron looked at her questioningly and then saw Shego, and gave Kim a discrete thumbs-up. Kim gave him a weak smile and headed into the room.
"Hey, Shego?" she said quietly, carefully stepping toward the vixen.
Shego glanced over at Kim approaching and then back out the window.
"What do you want, princess?" Shego purred.
Kim hesitated for a moment, trying to decide how to kick off the apology. She decided to be blunt.
Taking a deep breath, she said, "I'm sorry."
Shego tore her eyes away from the window and stared at the teen, perplexed.
"About what?"
Kim rolled her eyes, not wanting to discuss the matter anymore than she had to.
"You know," she sighed, "I'm sorry I kinda gave you a hard time about Drakken earlier."
Shego knitted her eyebrows together and looked down at her feet. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"C'mon, Shego, yes you do," Kim moaned. "Ron and I ran into him in the kitchen and he told us."
Shego's head shot up, her eyes widening.
"I mean," Kim stammered, back-tracking, "he didn't tell us anything, just that he, ya know, cares about you; and that because I kinda made fun of you earlier, you put a stop to the whole relationship."
Shego couldn't deny that hearing Kim say that Drakken cared for her, made her heart swell. However, she still couldn't bring herself to admit to Kim that she had upset her. Much less, upset her over Drakken. Eventually, Shego, unable to think of anything to say, furrowed her brow and looked back out the window.
"I shouldn't have made fun of you," Kim said, "I'm sorry."
Shego didn't say anything, or even turn to look at her.
Kim swallowed hard. Desperately wanting to make things right. "Even though you and Drakken never succeeded in taking over the world," a low rumble resounded from Shego's throat, "you two made a good team. I'm actually kinda surprised that you two didn't get together before now," Shego briefly glanced over at Kim. "I mean, you could do a lot worse than Drakken. Motor Ed, for instance," Shego couldn't help but grin a little bit at the suggestion. "I guess what I'm trying to say is," Kim stated with a sigh, "I shouldn't have given you a hard time about Drakken. It's not my place to make any kind of comment – verbal or physical – about your life or your decisions; especially romantic ones – "
"No. It's not." Shego interrupted firmly, looking at Kim.
Kim pursed her lips and her light green eyes grew kind and soft. "I know. Please don't let my actions, or anyone else's, determine whether or not you should be with Drakken." Kim paused, debating whether or to say what she was thinking. She shortly decided it was prudent.
"It's not fair to him," she added. "It's not fair to anyone."
Shego raised an eyebrow at Kim. "You have doubts when you initially started dating the buffoon?"
"His name is Ron," Kim corrected. "And it wasn't so much doubts . . . I mean, I love him," Shego felt her stomach knot at the word, "it's just some people got to me about the relationship at school, and it made me – well – self conscious, I guess. It shouldn't have, because Ron loves me and I him. That's all that should matter."
Shego couldn't think of anything to say, so she resumed staring out the window. Kim glared a bit, feeling her apology was falling on deaf ears. She glanced over Shego's shoulder, to see just what was so fascinating that it kept Shego peering. Outside, Kim could see a view of a round cul-de-sac and a two-story carriage house. The doors of the carriage house were open and Kim could Smithers, Ronan, Drakken, John-Paul, and Angela all standing around the old truck Smithers' had been driving when she had first seen him. The truck's hood was propped open, and the engine had been removed and set next to it. Ronan was sitting back on her haunches, black grease up to her elbows and utterly filthy, attacking the engine with various tools. Drakken was hovering behind her, cautiously watching her work. Smithers, John-Paul, and Angela stood off to the side; Angela wavering her arms around dramatically, telling some kind of story. Ronan said something from over the top of the engine to Angela. The petite girl then made a motion with her hands and pointed to the Manor.
Kim knew that Angela was telling him about how she had told Wade to try and get some dirt on the Syndicate. Next, Drakken said something.
"You know that's his kid, right?" Shego said suddenly.
"Yeah," Kim whispered. She paused and then voiced the thought that had invaded her head when she had first heard the news, "How weird is that?"
"You don't even know."
Finally, Shego moved away from the room and headed for the room's door.
"Where are you going?"
"Aunt Margo came by a little before you did and said tea time was going to start soon, and that I should join," Shego answered, not even bothering to mask her annoyance.
Kim had almost forgotten Rooke's announcement about tea, and followed Shego out of the room.
"Do you know which way the veranda is?" Kim asked as they entered the hall.
"Nope."
The two women walked down the hall, looking from room to room to see if there was a door that led outside.
"This place is huge," Kim muttered after a few minutes of unsuccessfully finding their way.
Eventually, they ran into Ms. Walsh, whom had Hana perched on her hip.
"Looking for the veranda?" she asked, adjusting the toddler. Kim and Shego both nodded. "I'm heading that way now. I'll drop you and little Miss Hana here off, then I'll bring out the tea."
With Ms. Walsh leading the way, they weaved around the manor, finally coming to what appeared to be an indoor green house. Large glass doors stood open at the far end of the room, and Kim and Shego could see the stone patio projecting out from the house.
"Here, I can take her," Kim said to the maid, gently taking Hana from her hip.
"Oh, thank you, dear. Please tell Mr. and Dr. Rooke that the tea will be out momentarily."
Kim and Shego made for the door; brushing past several large leaves and blossoms that Hana tried grabbing when they were in reach. There was a large oval table made from wrought iron set on the smooth stones of the patio. The occupants of the table – Margo, the company that had been in Rooke's study, and Kim's brothers (who looked like they had just gotten up) – were shaded under a large umbrella that was stuck in the center of the table. Upon seeing her mother, Hana squealed and reached for her. Kim rounded the table and handed Hana off, and took the seat next to Ron. Shego purposely sat a seat away from the group – a social faux pas that wasn't lost on Margo, but she didn't say anything.
"How'd it go?" Ron whispered to Kim.
"Okay, I guess," she answered. "I think we'll just have to wait and see if things get fixed."
Not long after Kim had spoken, did Karen come through the green room and out onto the veranda. She was barefoot, cradling a large tortoise shell cat. She had changed from her arrival clothes to a pair of black athletic pants and a plain white shirt.
"Ms. Walsh said it was time for tea?" she asked carefully.
"Yes," Margo answered brightly. "Please have a seat."
Karen hesitated for a moment before she set down the large cat and took the seat next to Shego. Neither woman looked at the other.
"Oh. Ms. Walsh said she'd be out in a second with the tea," Kim told Margo. Really, passing the message along was more of a way to fill the silence than to inform Margo on the status of the tea.
"Thank you, Kim," Margo acknowledged.
"Hey, where's the food?" Derek asked as he and Sutton exited the manor and took seats at the table.
"It'll be out momentarily."
"Good. That nap took a lot outta me," Derek yawned stretching and cracking his neck. A series of winces fluttered around the table at the popping sounds Derek created with his joints.
"I hope you told the others about tea," Rooke entreated.
"We did," Sutton said. "Saw them outside at the carriage house. Ronan's working on Reg's truck. Again."
No sooner had the words left Sutton's mouth, did Drakken, Ronan, Angela, John-Paul, and Reginald round the Manor and come into view.
"Ah! Perfect!" Rooke cried. "You're all just in time!"
The group looked at the table's guests with varying degrees of reservation: Drakken and Shego avoided eye contact, Ronan exchanged a look with her mother while taking an unconscious step away from Drakken, and Angela was glaring daggers at Kim.
"Heavens!"
Ms. Walsh's sudden cry of dismay punctuated the moment inappropriately, but it did pull the festering venom out of the air. She was standing at the open door way, carrying a large tray with a tea kettle and various crumpets and biscuits on it, staring at Ronan, horrified at the girl's messy state. Her once white tank top was ashen and stained with motor oil and grease, her jeans were also splotched and had several new holes in them, and, as before, her arms, neck and face were caked in oil, grease, and grime.
Words were lost on the old woman. She just simply shook her head and thought about how many times she would have to clean those clothes before the stains came out. She crossed to the table and set down the tray, still shaking her head.
"Before you sit down to tea, I ask that you go change before you sit on the chair cushions," Ms. Walsh pleaded to Ronan.
"Don't worry," Ronan drawled, heading for the manor. "I'm wouldn't dream of sitting on your pretty precious cushions in this state."
"Shoes, Ronan!" Ms. Walsh called over her shoulder.
Ronan kicked off her boots before entering the house and disappearing from sight.
"Will you be joining us Ms. Walsh, Mr. Smithers?" Rooke asked the two hands.
Again, Ms. Walsh shook her head slowly. "I'm going to get started on that mess of laundry Ronan's lugging through my pristine corridors." She shuddered at the thought of specks of dirt and grease dripping off of Ronan as she made the way to her bathroom.
"I wish you would just let the girl build you a new truck so that she would stop digging around in grease and oil," Ms. Walsh berated. Reginald's wrinkled mouth pulled into a sneer, as he walked away grumbling.
After Ms. Walsh disappeared back into the Manor, Drakken, John-Paul and Angela took seats around the table. Drakken ended up sitting across from Shego, and the pair exchanged an uneasy glance, but no words. Kim felt an wrenching twist in her gut. She hoped she hadn't permanently messed up the two's relationship.
"Did you get what you need?" Angela crossly asked Kim. John-Paul, who was seated next to Angela, playfully elbowed her in the side; her diminutive size made his own gargantuan structure even more comical.
"Um. Yeah," Kim muttered, taking a crumpet from the plate that Ron had passed to her.
"There's no need to harbor a grudge, Angela," Margo lectured, taking a sip of tea.
"Kim felt she did what she had to do," Rooke added. Angela rolled her eyes.
"Ticking the hosts off, pumpkin?" Shego taunted. "How surprisingly rude of you."
"What'd she do?" Derek asked through a bite of biscuit and jam.
"She had her computer guy try and hack into my systems," Angela said.
"I, for one, admire Kim's initiative. Even if it wasn't the best way to go about getting information," Minka interjected. Will glanced over at his partner, mild disbelief washing over his face.
"I mean," Minka continued, "if I were in her shoes – in a new environment, under somewhat tense circumstances – I would also want to get as much information as I could. Although, I agree with you, Mr. Rooke: we should trust each other. We need to. Secrets are not an option."
Tea lasted for about an hour. At that time, Ms. Walsh reappeared and began to take away the dirty dishes. After the table had been cleared, people slowly disbanded, some remaining to chat, others leaving. Ronan had never come back down after leaving to go clean up, and Sutton went to go find her.
He was not surprised that she had not come back to join the group for tea, and he was also not surprised to find her holed up in the bathroom they shared, smoking. She was sitting on the edge of the tub, holding her hand out of the bathroom window, so as to not let the cigarette smoke perfume the room too much. She had showered, but had not dressed; all she had on was matching black lacey bra and panties (one of the only feminine things she owned) and a haggard expression on her face.
"You missed tea," he said, sitting on the toilet across from her.
Ronan took a drag from her cigarette and blew the smoke out of the window.
"Whoops."
Sutton smirked at her apathetic defiance.
"You okay?"
Ronan shrugged. "I think so. Why?"
"It's just seems like its been a draining day for you. You've already gone through a pack of cigarettes today, and it's only four o' clock. Usually, you won't go through a pack a day unless you stressed or nervous."
"We need to stop hanging out so much."
Sutton's smirk bloomed into a full grin. "I just want to make sure that you're okay –"
"I am."
"And that even though it's weird right now, the strangeness of having both of your parents around will eventually go away."
Ronan made a face and ran her long fingers through her damp hair.
"Is there something else bothering you?"
"There's always something bothering me," she answered. "That's the stupid way I work."
"What in particular is it now?" Sutton asked, leaving the toilet seat and coming to sit next to her on the edge of the tub.
Ronan screwed up her face and finally said, "I don't like that GJ agent Minka."
"Not to be confrontational, Ro, but you don't like most people."
"Oh, I know. I don't like Will either, but there's something about Minka that's . . . off. I don't know what it is. She hasn't done anything to warrant suspicion, and she's not particularly annoying. I have no data to support not liking her."
Sutton shrugged a shoulder. "She's a Global Justice pawn. Do you need more of a reason to dislike her?"
Ronan grinned as she crushed the dwindling butt of her cigarette against the porcelain tub.
After tea, Drakken decided that he finally might be tired enough to try and get some sleep. Unfortunately, as soon as he lay down in the king-sized bed, he noticed that Shego's scent was left lingering in the sheets from when she had taken a nap. Irked, he tried to get comfortable on the old eighteenth century couch on the other side of the room; but he found that the cushions were too starchy and malformed to get into an agreeable position. Eventually, he made peace with the fact that he probably wouldn't be getting any sleep, and just lay on the couch.
He didn't know how long he had been lying down when Shego came into the bedroom. He knew it was she by the way the door opened, and he felt his stomach do a somersault as her scent – a mix of vanilla and flowers – wafted into the room.
"Dr. D?"
Drakken slowly sat up, but didn't turn to look at her. "Yes, Shego?"
There was a pause, and then he heard the soft padding of her feet approach. He felt a shift in the seat cushions as she sat down next to him. He still didn't look at her.
After a moment, she quietly said, "I need to talk to you, D."
Drakken didn't say anything, and she wasn't sure whether or not he and heard her.
"Drakken –"
"I heard you, Shego." Drakken said, coldly. "What do you need to tell me?"
He would've liked to be meaner. He would've liked to yell at her, call her a bitch, tell her to leave him alone. But he couldn't. He was too tired, too hurt to do any of that.
Shego briefly reconsidered what she wanted to tell him. She hated apologizing, and she doubly hated admitting when she had been in the wrong. Although, she knew that if she didn't say she was sorry, she would hate herself even more.
"I'm sorry, Dr. D," she whispered, barely opening her mouth.
For the first time since she entered the room, Drakken turned to look at her. Shego felt a warm flush flourish across her face and she averted her gaze. Her mind raced to figure out something else to say. Her heart was tapping furiously.
"I'm sorry," she said again, this time more audibly. "I shouldn't have said those things earlier."
She swallowed and took the plunge. "I shouldn't have said them at all. I didn't mean it."
Drakken looked at her carefully. He knew Shego did not apologize willy-nilly. She only did it when she knew she needed to; when she knew she had gone over the line. He couldn't deny that when she had said that she didn't mean the things she had said, that his heart gave a little 'thump-thump' of hope and happiness. However, he didn't want to simply roll over like a love-struck teen. He wanted Shego to squirm a little bit. He wanted her to know that her words had consequences, and that, even though she was apologizing, it would take more than that to set things right.
But he couldn't fully fight the feeling of overwhelming glee and happiness building up inside him. In truth, all Drakken wanted to do at that moment was to grab her beautiful face and kiss her. It took a considerable amount of will power, but he managed to resist.
"You didn't?" he asked.
Shego looked back at him and shook her head, her black curls caressing her face. "No. I just . . . went crazy for a second, I guess," she paused for a moment before continuing. "I let Kim get to me, and I shouldn't have. It doesn't matter what she thinks or what anyone thinks. It doesn't matter that some ex-girlfriend or yours is here, or that you have a slightly terrifying, under-fed kid. You didn't do anything to warrant me hurting your feelings. It's not fair to you that I got self-conscious and took it out on you. I shouldn't have done that; I know that now. I'm really sorry, D."
Drakken needed to confirm something, and he couldn't help himself. "Why are you sorry?"
Shego shot him a look and said, "Because I care about you."
The words came out slowly and with a great deal of certainty. Inwardly, she struggled between that and 'I love you'. But she figured that the latter was too big of a step for her. Surely, Drakken would think that she was mocking him if she confessed that. How could she love a big blue oaf like him? But, alas, she did.
Drakken continued to look at Shego, his face strangely void of expression, and Shego slowly felt her heart sink and her irritation rise. Was he not accepting her apology? How dare he! Didn't he know how difficult it was for her to admit she had been in the wrong?
After a few seconds of staring at each other, Shego got fed up and started to get off the couch to leave. Just as she stood up, Drakken's nearest hand shot off his lap and grabbed hers. Surprised, Shego looked down at the doctor. His eyes were looking sternly, yet pleadingly, up at her. She was unable to hold on to the anger as she looked at him, and she sat back down; this a little closer than before. Neither said anything, and nothing beyond hand holding happened. However, the longer they sat there together, a small delicate vine escaped from Drakken's sleeve and entwined itself around his and Shego's clasped hands.
From what Vrishkov could figure out, the small black box created seismic waves through a planet's crust in localized areas; much like an earthquake. However, the box simply created the waves that caused the destruction. It didn't necessarily need tectonic plates or any tangible item to facilitate the damage.
He also hypothesized that the push of the box's button was proportional to the damage caused. Meaning that if Cutting had pushed the Lorwardian symbol as far as it would go, there would've been a good chance that all of Sardinia would've sunk into the Mediterranean Sea.
After Cutting had inadvertently destroyed his shed, he had sent Vrishkov back down to his cell to work on the weapon – under the supervision of one of his goons. Cutting had gone back up to his study to plot out the next part of his plan.
He sat, leaning back in his large leather chair, his feet propped up on his desk, and his hand cupping his pointed chin. He knew he would need to pick some kind of test site for the device. There were various reasons for this: to make sure that the box had the destructive capacity he would require, to make sure that there were minimal casualties during the first move, and to make sure the test site would gather just enough media attention. He didn't want the test to appear too threatening. Where ever he used first used the box, it would need to appear like an accident or some freak occurrence, not an action of malicious intent.
Cutting was brought out of his head by a sharp knock at his study door.
"Come in," he called, swinging his legs off of his desk. The door opened and J.R. entered.
"I just wanted to make sure there were no other jobs you wanted me to carry out before I head back to the States."
Cutting brought his fingers to his thin lips and pondered the question. When he didn't say anything, J.R. turned to leave.
"I'll be back in a couple weeks, and I'll bring Gerry's money with me."
"Hold on there, J.R." Cutting said, getting up. He rounded his desk and went over to a liquor cart butted up against a bookshelf. "Have a seat."
Slowly, J.R. closed the study door, went over to one of the seats in front of Cutting's desk and sat down. Cutting poured two glasses of malt whiskey and sat down in the chair opposite J.R.'s, handing him one of the tumblers.
"Actually, I do have a job for you," he said, taking a sip of his drink.
J.R. watched his employer carefully. "What's that?"
"Well, as you know, Vrishkov had a stroke of luck on his first day and has found me a weapon that looks like it will serve my needs. However, we won't know this until we give it a little test spin."
"I see," J.R. said, taking the first sip of his whiskey.
"So, instead of going to the States, I want you to take Vrishkov to the test site and see what kind of damage our little box can cause."
"Where is this test site?"
The next few days at the Manor passed rather comfortably, although there still was a great deal of segregation between groups. Angela was still bitter against Kim. However, as the days past, her aggression seemed to ebb away into mild indifference and then back into her bubbly, friendly self.
Director would check in with Will and Minka at least twice a day. There had been no progress at GJHQ on uncovering who the mole was, and Director appeared as wearied and stressed as Kim had ever seen or heard her. Aside from GJ duties, Will and Minka had taken to challenging Kim and Ron is bouts of chess. There was a large, elegant, marble board with matching pieces in the rumpus room mentioned on their first day. Ron lost every time, no matter whom he was competing with, whereas, Rufus always seemed to win. Often, Kim was matched up with Minka, and she found herself liking the GJ agent more and more. Minka told her about growing up in Santa Fe, New Mexico, about her classes at the GJ Agent Academy, and other random facts about her life. In return, Kim happily told her stories about her various missions, her foes, and the alliances she had made along the way.
Kim carefully observed Drakken and Shego over the following days, to see if the rift she had caused in their relationship had been patched up. While the two weren't committing any public displays of action (something Kim was, admittedly, thankful for), they did appear to be on friendlier terms; at least they had gone back to their usual routine of Shego playfully mocking the doctor.
Truthfully, the rockiness in Drakken and Shego's relationship was beginning to pass. Drakken was still unwilling to fully open himself up to Shego again, more as a punishment for her then an actual feeling. The night Shego apologized, she and Drakken did share the king sized bed. However, Drakken made sure to stay as far on his side as he possibly could without falling off. As the week progressed, though, each night he would slowly creep closer, until – about four days after Shego's apology – he was huddled up against her back, his arm holding her close to his chest. He was extremely happy that Shego didn't seem to have a problem with spooning, and even snuggled her back even deeper into his chest.
Their romantic gestures didn't go beyond spooning, though. There was no hugging, kissing, or sex in the days following Shego's apology. Drakken wasn't prepared to let Shego in like that again (even if his heart wanted it), and Shego wasn't ready to do that if he wasn't.
Over the next few days, Kim couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for Karen. It seemed that every time Kim ran into her in the manor, she was alone. Kim didn't understand the tenseness that clouded her relationship with her daughter, but Kim couldn't help but feel a little annoyed at Ronan for ignoring her mother so.
Kim barely saw Ronan, as it was. She had no idea where the gangly girl went to during the day, but she didn't seem to care to get to know any of the guests. The only time Kim was guaranteed a sight of her was at suppertime. Even then, she was unpleasantly quiet, only speaking with other members of the Syndicate.
Kim was actually still a little surprised that Drakken had gotten far enough with a woman to actually create a child. She had not worked up the guts to ask Drakken or Karen about their relationship because, really, it wasn't her place. She had thought briefly about asking Shego to see if she knew anything, but then thought better of the idea; she had caused enough trouble for Shego as it was.
As a week at the manor was drawing to a close, Kim couldn't help but remember what Rooke had said on their first day:
"We will give him a week to strike, and if he doesn't by then, we will go looking for him."
They hadn't heard anything. As far as Kim knew, the world was safe. For now. She was beginning to grow restless, wanting to take some kind of action. Simply waiting on the edge for something to happen made her insides writhe uncomfortably.
On the sixth morning, Kim got up at 6:30 AM. She didn't know why her body had awoken so early, but she was wide-awake and alert. She swung her legs over the side of her bed and slid her feet into a pair of slippers she had found in her room's closet.
She quietly opened her bedroom door and padded down the hallway to the main staircase. After about three days, Kim started to get a handle on the Manor's maze of corridors and rooms, and now it didn't seem so big and imposing.
Once she got to the stairs, Kim was struck by how overly lit the downstairs seemed to be. It wasn't odd for Ms. Walsh or Dr. Rooke to be up by now, but it wasn't like either of them to unnecessarily turn and leave lights on. Kim swiftly plodded down the stairs and turned down the hall that led to the kitchen. She was hungry, and was going to see if Ms. Walsh couldn't whip her up a small something before the actual breakfast.
However, when Kim entered the kitchen, it was empty. The smell of percolating coffee and cooking food was even absent. Puzzled, Kim walked through the kitchen and into the dining room. Empty. Kim stopped, utterly confused.
Slowly, she became aware of soft voices coming from down the hall. Kim started walking again, following the sounds to the parlor. As she rounded the parlor doors, she saw the entire Syndicate, plus Will and Minka, standing around the room. Rooke and Margo were standing beside the fireplace mantel, just as they had on Kim's first day there. All of them wore an expression somewhere between grave and focused.
"What's going on?" Kim asked, anxiously.
Rooke fixed her with his grey eyes and said, "Cutting has made his first move."
A/N: Thank you very much for reading! Please leave a review on the way out. I should get around to starting chapter 11 later this week. Hopefully I won't take so long to update next time. We shall see though; finals are coming up for me, unfortunately. Thanks again for reading! I hope you guys are liking this story so far. There is still some exposition to go, but next chapter there will be some action. Explosions, fights, lasers and the like (OH! A Rhyme!). Please leave a review! :DDD