CHAPTER NINE

"I don't give a damn about that shit contract!" Ed hollered. "I'm not working with that damn bitch. She's totally wacked, seriously."

"Which damn bitch are you talking about?" David asked bitterly.

Steve glared at David and Ed angrily. "I would appreciate if you limit your verbiage within the confines of professional speech, if you are at all capable of doing so."

"Dude, seriously, is this guy speaking English?" Ed asked David quizzically as he lit up a cigarette.

"And there is absolutely NO SMOKING IN HERE!" Steve bristled.

"Can we stick with the point?" David shouted. "What exactly makes you think that you can simply walk out in middle of an episode? It will be in all the – "

"Dude, I tell you, I'm history!" Ed muttered through his cigarette. He snatched a piece of paper out of David's hand and ripped it into shreds.

"That's only a copy," Mark said softly.

"We'll sue you," David warned, ignoring Mark. "For every penny you've got."

Ed impatiently blew a puff of smoke at David.

"Cut that out," David said shortly. "Now, listen, this is going to be in all the papers –"

Ed snorted. "Dude!" he sneered. "You don't need this is in the papers. You're about to get all the bad publicity you need. Seriously."

Steve suddenly seized Ed by the lapels of his leather jacket, glaring at him menacingly. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asked softly.

"Dude, paws off the jacket," Ed said peevishly. Steve clung on tightly.

"Wait, Steve," David said nervously. He adopted what was clearly intended to be a warm, fatherly air, which meant that he was taking Ed's threat very seriously. "Perhaps Ed knows something that…"

"Damn right I do," Ed laughed. "I can just imagine the press finding out about your two leading ladies –"

"They aren't going to find out," Steve said brusquely, "as long as you keep your trap shut."

"Dude, I'd like to see you make me. Seriously."

Mark paled slightly, and David gritted his teeth, dropping any pretense of being warm and paternal. "Damn you," he mumbled. "Fine. Forget the damn contract. But if you so much as breathe a word, so help me God, we'll come after you for every cent you've got. Hear me?"

"Got it, dude," Ed grinned widely.

Steve slowly released his grip, continuing to stare malevolently at Ed, his eyes full of hatred. "Get out of this office," he growled. Ed brushed off his jacket lapels, blew a puff of smoke in Steve's direction, and sauntered out of the office door.

Steve continued to glare furiously at the office door as David began massaging his temples.

"Change in production plans," he said in a dead voice. "All of Ed's scenes need to be re-shot with a different character. Let's see if we can rope in that Demenz character. In the meantime, we change today's plans for the shoot and proceed directly to scene 430." David groaned slightly. "Steve, do you think you can get the principals started again? Mark and I just need to make some last minute-arrangements…"

"Done," Steve nodded. He began striding towards the door, and then he turned around. "I forget. What time are the Warriors coming?"

"They'll be here at three," Mark said quietly.

"Amazing how the most successful wrestling duo in the country agreed to be cast in the finale," David nodded. Warren Hawkes and Wanda Manga, who were more frequently known by their stage names or by their title "The Warriors," were both scheduled to appear in the series finale.

"Warmonga must have persuaded her partner. I know that she particularly enjoyed guest starring this season," Mark murmured. He suddenly smiled slyly at Steve. "She particularly appeared to enjoy making your acquaintance, if I recall correctly."

"Oh, she was far more interested in Drew," Steve scoffed.

"For the first three days of the shoot," David muttered under his breath.

"Drop it," Steve said shortly. He was in no mood for joking. As he stalked out of the office and slammed the door, he could have sworn that he heard Mark mutter, "Apparently denial is more than a river in Egypt." He was pretty sure that he heard David chuck and respond, "Good one, Moskowitz. Maybe we can work it into the script."

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Ron pulled his small station wagon into his parking spot dejectedly. He was late for today's shoot, but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything. He hadn't even eaten in two days. As he slowly removed himself from his station wagon, he noticed a large convertible pull up beside his. His stomach clenched. Shego.

"Hey, Perlman," she nodded carelessly, in that tone that Ron knew was reserved for buffoons and unimportant people such as himself. Ron smiled weakly and tried to look away, a lump growing in his throat.

"Oh, come off it," Shego snapped impatiently. "What's the matter with you now?"

Ron slowly forced himself to look at the woman. God, she was just as beautiful as he remembered her, with those cheekbones and jawline and that hair – no. He wouldn't. He stared at her for a few seconds longer, and then finally sighed.

"How many more knives will you stick in my back?" he finally asked. He turned away before he could feel any satisfaction from Shego's shocked expression, or before he could fully register that – for once – he had the last word.

As Shego stood watching him slightly with her mouth slightly open, Ron continued to trudge through the parking lot on his way to the studio.

Shego – it had been nearly two years since he had thought of her, or at least really thought of her. He had been fascinated by her from the beginning, fascinated by her beauty, by her moods, by her unattainability. He was frightened of her, and never felt comfortable around her, yet that didn't stop his stomach from lurching in her presence, or stop him from stuttering like an idiot around her.

She disdained him, of course. Scoffed him, insulted him, laughed at him, made him feel like a fool. She made his life utterly miserable at times. He hated her at those moments – and yet – he was still bewitched by her, cowed by her, and would blush furiously whenever he thought about how Shego featured in his dreams.

He tried so hard to stop thinking about her, really. He knew that she wasn't good for him – he was practical about it. He dated other girls on the set, and fantasized over Kim. It wasn't as though he actually wanted a real relationship with Shego anyway – that would be a disaster. It was just that –

Stop it, Perlman, Ron told himself sternly as he crept into the studio. Get yourself some brain soap – this whole sitch is sick and wrong, and you know it. Don't do this to yourself, buddy…

Ron managed to hold off his thoughts for about another thirty seconds, till he found himself in his dressing room. He moaned loudly, crumpled onto the floor, and surrendered to his memories….

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Ron was feeling miserable. They had just finished shooting Steal Wheels. Finishing an episode was always somewhat of a festive occasion, particularly when the shoot went smoothly, which usually meant that Kim and Shego were not constantly at each other's throats. But Shego had been strangely subdued throughout most of the shoot, and there were only a few minor flare-ups between her and Kim, with no bystander casualties. The directors were fairly satisfied with the rushes, and the cast faced two blissful weeks of vacation to look forward to until they begun the next episode…

But Ron couldn't share the directors' optimism. He was too busy pining for Kim, that perfect girl-next-door, his co-star. They had been friends for so long, and he was hoping that Kim would take his hints that he was hoping that they would become something… more. But Kim seemed so oblivious at times! And she had been flirting with Felix during the entire shoot. Man. Every guy knew how to flirt, except for him and Drew. All through the shoot, Felix made googly-eyes at Kim, Ed made googly-eyes at Shego… who was left?

As he usually did when he felt miserable, Ron found himself waiting on line for the movie theater. There might be something good showing tonight. And then he saw the marquees – Brick-a-Brack was still showingThe movie received awful reviews, but still – Kim had a supporting role. He had already seen it with her at the premieres.

Don't do this to yourself, Ron told himself sternly. Don't – you'll just make yourself more miserable – this is not a good idea –

Ron waited online for thirty minutes and purchased a ticket for the next showing.

Ron slunk into the theater as soon as the double doors opened, and slipped into a seat in one of the back rows. It wasn't so often that he was recognized in crowds – particularly with his five-o'clock shadow, his normally-shapen ears, and his jelled hair – but one could never be too careful. He certainly did not feel like signing any autographs or answering any nosy questions by journalists – particularly the kinds who wiggled their eyebrows at him when they asked about how he and Kim were "getting along."

After the lights had dimmed and the previews began showing, Ron noticed a shadowy figure approaching him, stumbling slightly. He slunk deeper into his seat. Please don't be a fan – please don't be a fan – please don't – The shadowy figure slumped into the seat nearest to him, practically collapsing into it. Ron shirked slightly. The figure reeked of alcohol, and was hiccupping softly.

Ron tried to ignore figure next to him as the feature began playing. She – he was fairly certain it was a woman next to him – had her head between her knees and was muttering to herself. Okaaayyy. What was the point in paying to watch a movie if you weren't going to even be able to see anything? And who exactly was she talking to, anyway?

"No… stop…please… leave me alone… go away…"

So she was having a nightmare. Ron felt a twist of pity in his heart.

"Hey," he hissed. "Wake up – er – ma'am."

"No," the woman slurred in what seemed to be a panic-stricken voice. "Go away. Go away from me."

A few people near them apparently heard some of the commotion and were buzzing angrily in Ron's direction.

"Oh come on, it's not that good a movie," Ron muttered towards the crowd under his breath. Resolving to try again, he placed his hand on the woman's shoulder and started shaking it firmly. "Come on, wake up," he said loudly. "It's just a dream. Wake up, it's okay, you're safe."

"No…" the woman murmured softly, painfully. Slowly she began lifting her head toward Ron's directions, and Ron noticed her eyes fluttering open. They suddenly grew wide and awake.

"Oh my go—" she began, and then suddenly – catching Ron completely off-guard – she flung her arms around him and began crying.

"Thank god – you're not – you're just – oh…"

"Er… it's okay," Ron said awkwardly. This was an unexpected twist – some strange drunken woman was crying into his shoulder. He slowly lifted his hand, feeling instinctively that he should stroke the woman's hair, but something held him back, so that he was left with his arm somewhat hovering over the woman's head.

An usher strode towards Ron.

"Look, bud," he hissed, "you're going to have shut her up."

"Well, it's not easy!" Ron snapped back. "And I don't even know her!"

"Just take her out," the usher snapped. "Now. Beat it, you two."

"Well, it was a stupid movie anyway," Ron muttered. He turned back to the woman and said into her ear, "Okay, um, lady… we're going to have start going now." He slowly tried to prop her up, placing her arm around his shoulder. He managed to heave her out of the seat, and the woman slowly got to her feet and shuffled out of the theater with Ron, the disapproving eyes of the audience boring holes in the back of their heads.

"Well, here we are," Ron said, trying to sound cheerful as he squinted in the strong light outside the theater. He gently deposited the lady into a chair, and she immediately slumped forward, her head buried in her hands, her shoulders still heaving slightly. Ron rubbed his eyes.

"Well, if you're feeling okay –"

Ron suddenly stopped cold. He felt those familiar butterflies in his stomach, and rubbed his eyes again to make sure he was seeing straight. He didn't quite catch her face through her fingers – but that hair – those hands – he would know them anywhere –

"Shego?" Ron asked disbelievingly.

Shego slowly lifted her head out of her hands. Her eyes were rimmed and bloodshot, and her nose was red. She hiccupped.

"Perlman," she said.

"Shego – what – what are – what are you doing?" Ron stammered.

"I'm drunk," Shego said simply, a small smile on her lips.

"I can see that much," Ron said in a small voice. "But – um – why?"

Shego giggled slightly. "Why not?" she slurred. "You should try it."

"I think I'll pass," Ron said weakly.

Shego hiccupped. "And I think I'll pass out."

"Oh, Shego, don't do that – "

"But it's so nice," Shego purred. "So nice to get stone, cold, stinkingly drunk. Have you ever been stone, cold, stinkingly drunk, Perlman?"

"Um – no," Ron answered nervously.

"You should try it," Shego said thickly. "It's funderful… wonderful… You don't feel anything. It's like… it's like… you're floating, flooooating on a cloud, and no once can come touch you." She laughed again, hiccupping slightly.

"Err… right," Ron said, his mouth feeling full of sawdust. "Um… we better get you home, Shego."

"Home is good," Shego said, nodding vigorously. "Home is very good… home has beer and liquor and vodka and…"

"Let's just get you out of here," Ron said again. He bent down to pick up her arm again, and then hesitated.

"Wassermarrer?" Shego hiccupped.

"Nothing," Ron squeaked. Slowly, haltingly, he draped Shego's arm around his shoulder, and helped her out of the chair again. He swallowed as he half dragged-half carried Shego out of the theater, and ignoring the patrons of the theater glaring coldly at them.

Ron helped Shego through the parking lot and into his car. He hesitated again, and then nervously strapped Shego in her seatbelt, his hand slightly shaking as he felt his hand brush against her chest.

"Um… okay," Ron said in a small voice, fumbling for his keys in his pocket. "Um… just… just tell me your address, I guess…"

Shego hiccupped again. "You know, Perlman," she said thickly. "There are a lot of guys out there who'd try to take advantage of a girl in my situation."

Ron, who had been thinking the same thing, didn't answer. His tongue was trembling too hard.

"Bet that didn't even cross your mind," Shego said with a giggle. "You know why?"

"Because…" Ron swallowed. "Because… er, I'm a nice guy?"

Shego chuckled. "No," she said lightly. "Because you're a buffoon."

"Great, just great," Ron muttered. His intestines felt like jelly, and his hand was shaking so hard that he was having trouble fitting his key into his ignition.

Suddenly Shego began leaning towards Ron, so that her hair was in front of his hair. Ron tried to breathe deeply. He felt his face growing very hot, and his fingers grow very cold. His heart was pounding so loudly that he was sure that Shego could hear it.

"Buffoon is good," she said softly. "Buffoon is nice."

"Um… sure…" Ron stammered. He was shaking like a leaf.

Shego leaned in a bit closer. Ron held his breath as he felt her warmth, smelled her breath, even smelled her shampoo. He swallowed hard.

"Buffoons don't hurt innocent people," Shego said softly.

"Guess not," Ron squeaked. He tried to keep his eyes on the steering wheel, but it was no use – he could feel Shego's smoldering eyes boring into the back of his skull.

"You would never hurt a woman, would you, Perlman," Shego said softly. It was not a question.

"N-n-no…. of course not..."

"Look at me."

Slowly, uncertainly, and scared out of his mind, Ron turned to face Shego. Her eyes were large and sad and…normal-looking. The usual menace was gone. She leaned her face into Ron's, and Ron felt himself slowly melt as those warm, soft lips merged into his own…

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Ron kicked his dressing room wall. She never said anything afterward, of course. He wasn't even sure if she remembered any of it. In any case, they were back in the studio two weeks later, and Shego… was exactly the same to him. Still cold, still mocking, still distant, and still just as beautiful and terrible as ever.

Not like he expected anything to change. He told himself, over and over, that nothing would change between them, that it had all been meaningless. But it was a small comfort. Every time he looked at her… Every time she laughed… Every sarcastic jibe…

He had forced himself to get over her, to stop thinking about her. And he succeeded, more or less. Slowly, over time, his pain subsided, and he started thinking about Kim again. And then he and Kim began dating, and he forced himself to remove any last remnant of Shego in his mind. He had done it for Kim, he had done for himself, for his sanity. And then things between him and Kim were going so smoothly – or so it seemed – and months, whole months had passed by since Ron had thought of Shego last. It had been months since he stammered like an idiot around her, months since he shirked away from her, months since he felt himself turn to jelly in her presence. He was even able to laugh at himself and how foolish he had been over Shego. But now… his world was crashing down on him, and the memories were all flooding back into his mind.

It wasn't fair! He had forced himself to walk the straight and narrow for Kim, had forced himself to stay clean, had forced himself to remain pure of mind and pure of heart. And he did it! He did for Kim! And all this time, she had been… No. No, it just wasn't possible. He wouldn't think about it. He couldn't – he'd go crazy. It was all just speculation. After all, it was like Barkin said – friends hugged, all the time. It was no big. He was just making mountains out of molehills, as usual.

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Shego frowned at her reflection in the mirror after Perlman stalked away. He was acting… weirder than usual, if that was at all possible. Something was up. He suspected. Or maybe… maybe he even knew…

Shego drummed her fingers nervously on the steering wheel. It was only a few minutes before the first scheduled break of the morning, but she never had much patience. Normally she would have just strode in and grabbed Kim herself, but she didn't think it would be a good idea to show her face before her suspension was over. David was likely to be in a snit over the show's cancellation, and she highly doubted that he would take very kindly to seeing her walk Kim out of the studio.

After a few more minutes, Shego noticed a figure exiting the studio. She perked up slightly, but realized right away that it couldn't be Kim.

It was Steve.

Shego felt a small twinge of guilt and nervousness as she realized that Steve was headed for his car, which was parked right next to hers. She forced herself to look natural.

"Hey," she smiled.

"Oh… Hi," Steve said, somewhat distractedly. He gave Shego a funny look. "Going somewhere?" He gave a small nod to the suitcases in the backseat.

"I'm flying up to Albany," she said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Visiting my… alma mater."

Steve frowned slightly. He was too polite to point out that Shego did not have many fond memories of her alma mater, nor did they have too many fond memories of her.

"And," Shego said, with a small smile, "while I'm there, I figured I'd… stop by the police station. It's a few years late but I think it's time… to report a crime."

Steve's eyes grew wide. He was no longer distracted. "You mean," he said in a low, awed, voice, "You mean… it's done?"

Shego smiled somewhat self-consciously. "That's right."

"Booyah!" Steve exclaimed, much to his and Shego's surprise. He impulsively leaned over the door of Shego's convertible and gave her a spontaneous hug. He stopped abruptly, and then pulled away, his face turning red.

"Um…" he stammered, trying to cover up his awkwardness, "How… how did you find him?"

"Actually," said Shego thoughtfully, "he found me."

Steve raised his eyebrows. "Interesting…" He jerked slightly. A light flashed in his eyes, and the pieces began fitting together…

He found Shego…

Shego just finished with him…

Ed ripping up his contract, warbling over some "wacked bitch…"

Everything clicked.

"Sweet mother of pearl," Steve said in a low voice.

"What?" Shego asked, perplexed.

"Nothing much," Steve said in a low voice. "Just that Ed Drakkenger quit the show this morning."

The momentary look shock and glee on Shego's face – which disappeared as soon as Shego managed to re-arrange her face to conceal her emotions – was all the confirmation that Steve needed.

"I thought so," Steve muttered.

"Don't do anything stupid," Shego said quickly.

"Like – you?"

"I don't have a leg full of shrapnel," Shego said impatiently.

Steve paled slightly. Shego backpedaled.

"Steve – I'm sorry, I didn't –"

"I forgot about the shrapnel," Steve said softly. "You reminded me." Steve hesitated. "So did Possible, actually."

Shego froze.

He knew. What was worse, he knew that she knew that he knew.

"Steve –" Shego began hurriedly.

Steve raised his hand. "There's no need to explain," he said. "Besides, we need to celebrate this moment… You've been waiting for a long time and, well, I can't help but feeling that I had at least a small part in –"

"Steve, we're going to need to talk," Shego blurted out.

Steve shook his head. "No, we don't," he said.

"But Steve –"

"Shego," Steve said quietly, "between this parking lot and my house, there must be about five thousand bottles of beer, and there's only one thing that's keeping me away from buying one of them."

Shego fell silent.

"I should be home late tonight," she said quietly. "We can celebrate then."

Steve nodded. "I'm looking forward to that," he said gently. He then opened his car door and entered.

"Where are you going?"

Steve smiled tightly. "I have some… unfinished business."

Shego frowned. "Be careful."

Steve nodded, and briefly glanced at his bad leg.

"I always am," he said sadly.

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Kim jogged hurriedly out of her dressing room. She had wanted to see Shego for a few minutes during her break, and she was running late. As she quickly swerved around the corner, she suddenly skidded to a stop to avoid a head-on collision.

"Well, well, well," Joe said. He had apparently just stepped out of David's office. "Looks like we're both out of a job, eh, Kim?"

Kim nodded tightly, and turned away, without saying a word.

"Do you know why?" Joe called out after her.

Kim turned to face Joe in disbelief.

"Oh, come on," she said with irritation. "Don't give me that."

"I haven't been giving you that for weeks," Joe responded.

"One-track mind," Kim muttered under her breath. "You probably know better than anyone else why the show's getting cancelled."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, don't play innocent with me," Kim snapped. "Thanks to the rumors that you started, a whole studio of people are losing their jobs." Of course, Kim thought, it also helped her and Shego get together…

Joe frowned. "Which rumor are you talking about?"

"Well, let's see," Kim said sarcastically. "How many rumors have you started?"

Joe shrugged. "A couple," he said nonchalantly. "But I can't think of any that would be bad enough to get the show cancelled. I mean, the one about the Mammomax couldn't…"

"YOU were the one who started the rumor about me and the boob cream?!" Kim shouted in disbelief.

"Duh," Joe said unapologetically. "But that wouldn't have –"

"Oh, quit playing games with me," Kim said sharply. "You planted those pictures and I know it."

"What pictures?" Joe asked earnestly.

Kim narrowed her eyes at him.

"What?" Joe asked defensively.

"Do you expect me to believe," Kim asked doubtfully, "that you have no idea what pictures I'm talking about?"

"Kim," Joe said, more seriously than he had ever spoken to her before, "why would I create images that would put the show's future in jeopardy? If the show tanks, I'm out of a job."

Kim paused. That was actually a good point.

"I turned down three jobs in the past month," Joe continued. "Would I have done that if I had suspected that the show was going to fold?"

Kim's eyes grew wide. "But… but… but you were so angry at me and Shego, and you –"

Joe rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I was mad," he said impatiently. "For like twenty minutes. I know when I have something coming to me."

"But you were giving us the cold shoulder ever since!" Kim blurted out. "You've been avoiding us like the plague!"

"Most perverts don't need to have their asses kicked more than once, Kim," Joe pointed out, shrugging.

Kim put her hands to her temples. This was getting far more complicated than she had anticipated… She had never even considered that someone other than Joe had created those photoshop images of her and Shego…

"But if you didn't create those images," Kim mused aloud, "then who did?"

"If you let me see them," Joe said eagerly, "I could analyze them and try to figure that out for you."

"Yeah right," Kim said coldly. "You really are a perv."

Joe shrugged.

"Look," he said, "I gotta beat it. But my advice? If you really want to figure out who's behind the photos, start by thinking of who wants the show cancelled."

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