sorry! I've had a bit of a cough for a while, and I've been totally out of it. I don't even remember if I updated last week on time! but rest assured, there will be two posts today because I won't be on the rest of the week. also, I've posted all of my stories on this fancy new little website called fictionpad. it looks very clean and cool, and it's a bit different and I think more functional than here. it's pretty simple to do: if you choose to check me out on fictionpad, create a log-in password and type in your ffn pen name. all of your work will be transferred right over automatically :)
anyways, enjoy the double update.
PS- if you haven't voted for a title yet, please do so! thank you. the poll is on my profile page.
It was the end of February. She was caught up with her school work and she was able to move around a bit more.
She stared out the window of her new room in the rehabilitation center she'd been moved into two weeks before. It was boring here, too. Although the space was much more homey, there was no place for Ron to sleep here, and visitation was limited due to the amount of therapy she had to do.
Therapy was grueling. Although she was starting to see results, such as being able to sit on her own a bit more comfortably and such, her hip was a constant source of pain. Her knee still gave out and she was starting to doubt whether she could really push herself through this.
However, she was glad that she could now make it to the chair by the window. She could see MAGIC from up there, and she always liked to think is was something akin to keeping an eye on Ron.
She'd gotten very... possessive... with him. It was worse now that she couldn't see him all the time. He tried to be patient, but this weekend he finally reached his limit and told her that he loved her with everything he was but that he refused to be with someone who wanted to control his life... he'd had enough of that. Then he'd stormed down the hallway, and she cried for the next two days.
On Monday he came in, contritely apologizing for snapping at her. She cried more. He wrapped his arms around her until she calmed down enough to speak. She tearfully told him all of her frustrations about not being able to see him or her friends, her cheer squad preparing for their competition without her, hearing how Ron had gotten mega popular over night, how girls would want to talk to him and such from her friends, how Bonnie wanted to get in his inner circle, how—
"Stop stop stop, KP," he had finally interrupted her with a chuckle. "First, I told you that the new Ron Stoppable doesn't give a shit. Popularity means nothing to me. I've made the friends I'm going to make. The rest of them, wanting to step up to me for cool points or whatever, they can all get fucked. Second, the squad misses you. Everyone, even those brats that you let hang around, agrees that being able to replicate the skill and fun and charisma you help them achieve in every performance will be incredibly difficult. They are all wishing you could guide them. Third, do you really think that I would trade you," he tapped the tip of her nose with his index finger, "for Bonnie?! Really, KP?"
"It wouldn't be the first time someone did," she muttered.
He ignored her. "Lastly, you will make it through this. And just because I can't hang around as much as I used to, or Lilith and Paige and Monique, or anyone else, doesn't mean at all that we love you any less. Besides you'll be out of here by the time summer comes around, and we'll all hang around you until you personally kick our asses out the door. And your family... well you've got to live with them, so good luck getting them to leave you alone once you're home."
She chuckled. "Specially the Tweebs."
"See?" he chuckled with her and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "You'll be just fine, Sweetheart."
Her eyes watered again. "I feel so alone when I'm in therapy," she whispered. "I hate it. I hate coming back to bed and wishing I had something... someone—anyone! Anyone to distract me from my tiredness and pain. I hate that I can't wake up after a bad dream and look over at you or my mom or my dad or Lili and Paige... I hate waking up every day and being tired and afraid. I've never felt this way before."
He held her for a long time, eventually soothing her into sleep. He couldn't let her keep feeling like this...
"Houston paging Ron. Do you copy?"
Ron snapped out of his daze. "Huh?"
"What's up your butt?"
Ron shook his head. "Nothing. Just been a long few days."
"Coz you can't see your girlfriend whenever you want anymore?"
He shook his head. "She's not... officially my girlfriend. I mean, I never asked her out."
"Um... you kiss her and drool over her and space out on me when you're worried about her, and you call her Sweetheart. When you're thinking about her you get all googly-eyed and girly. She's your girlfriend. Now what's going on? Is she doing okay?"
Ron scowled at him over the 'girly' comment before speaking. "She's doing fine... she's just tired. And maybe a bit lonely. She's always been this... social butterfly type... literally starts losing it when she doesn't have something to do and someone to do it with. I think not being able to do her missions or cheerleading is really bugging her."
"She'll get better soon," Josh said optimistically, popping a nacho in his mouth.
Ron shrugged. "Until she's better that won't be enough for her."
Josh sighed. "I'm sorry. I know this sucks ass, for everyone involved. Hey, the other day you promised you'd introduce me to some of your lady friends over at MAGIC."
Ron laughed. "You should apply to MAGIC and then you can hang out with my lady friends instead of just meeting them."
"You know my parents won't let me go, even if I do get in."
"Who says they have to know?"
"They'll know when they see my report card, you dolt."
Ron rolled his eyes. He was thinking about her again. He missed her like crazy. Hey, he knew she had a therapy session in the afternoon... what time was it? He wondered if he could maybe—
"Need to be somewhere?"
"Huh?" he stopped staring blankly at his watch and looked up at his friend. "No... I just got an idea."
"Stoppable's got an idea... let's get the paramedics on standby, shall we?"
Ron flipped him off. "She says she hates doing her therapy alone. What if... what if I could go? If I could start helping her with it like I used to when she was in the hospital, she wouldn't feel so depressed, and we'd have more time together."
Josh raised an eyebrow. "Hmm. I think we can call off the paramedics. That's actually a good idea. Do you know if the rehab center will let you do that?"
He shrugged. "I don't particularly give a shit. I bet I can get Anne and Dr. Possible on board with this too, and they'll duke it out with the rehab center. Provided they'll sit on Hana, I could meet her in therapy at least three times a week."
"I'll sit on Han for you."
He waved his best friend off. "Thanks, but I know you've got your own things to do. Just because I don't have to deal with it, doesn't mean I don't know what you're going through anymore. And I can't really risk Hana being exposed to parents like ours again... she's been doing so well."
Josh stared at his hands. "It's gotten worse."
Ron looked up in surprise.
"Yesterday I came home and I found the fridge fucking padlocked. They said I couldn't eat or drink until I finished this fucking thirteen page list of chores. I have yet to finish the list, and I have yet to eat anything except this," he said, pointing at his Grande Naco Platter and side order of nachos. "Thank God for you," he mumbled.
Ron was pretty sure his eye was twitching. "Are you... serious right now?"
"It gets better," Josh continued dully. "My bedroom was locked too. I slept on the couch, and my homework and wallet were in my room. I got zeros on all my assignments, and I got no sleep last night, and my lunch tickets are in my wallet so I didn't eat lunch today either. That couch is also uncomfortable as fuck."
Ron shook his head. "You can't keep living like this."
He chuckled. "Unfortunately, I don't think an insanely rich and prominent family whose daughter I'm madly in love with will just adopt me and pay for a lawyer so I can sue the living shit out of my parents. I'll be okay."
"They're starving you and locking you out of your room? What's next? Maybe they'll take a page from my mother's book and lock you in the basement forever. Look, even if you don't land in a cushy new place, anything has to be better than this."
"Speaking of which, when does your emancipation go through?"
"Um... I decided not to do it. The Possibles, they've been really good with me and Han. I've been a grown up my whole life, I just... want to enjoy the next couple years."
"Fair enough," Josh shrugged. "Hey, here's your chance," he said under his breath, pointing behind Ron.
Ron turned to spot Anne and Dr. Possible stepping up to the counter. He waved at them as they saw him. "Doctors P, not in the mood to cook today?"
Anne laughed and hugged him. "Hiya Ron. Tonight was supposed to be pizza night, but the pizzeria was closed for maintenance today. So we're getting everyone nacos."
"I would have cooked."
"Son, you don't have to—"
"Dr. Possible, it's okay. I like to cook."
"Well then you'll have to help out with dinner one of these days."
He beamed at them, and motioned them toward the booth where he and Josh were sitting. "Can we talk?"
"Sure, honey. What's the problem?"
Josh stood and introduced himself. "Josh Mankey, pleasure."
The Possibles shook his hand and sat down. "What is it, Ron?"
Ron sighed. "The problem is KP. She's really... um, well she's really..."
"He's worried about her because she says she's lonely and hates doing therapy by herself. He wants to take a few days a week to go through her work outs with her." Josh raised an eyebrow at his friend. "Was that so hard?"
Ron glared at him.
Dr. Possible looked at Ron in concern. "When did she say this?"
"Really, she has always hated therapy. You know that. But I think these feelings have only come up since she got moved to the rehab center. She told me this on Monday."
Anne smirked. "Josh, how long has he been worried about this?"
Josh shrugged, smirking back. "I think the question is when is he not worried about something or other? Dude, you seriously need to get that stick out of your ass."
Ron glared at them both, resisting the urge to give his friend another one-finger salute.
Anne sat back in her seat. "Well Ron, thank you for bringing this to our attention. I know you care about Kimmie a lot. But you have to know that you don't have to worry about her." She took his hand, her kind blue eyes reminding him a lot of Kim's expressive green ones. "I know you care for her, but let us handle this, okay? We're her parents, and it's our job to take care of these things." Her eyes lowered briefly. "I know that... I know that you've had to take care of yourself and the people you care about for a long time. But please let us take care of Kimmie, okay?"
"But what about the therapy—"
Dr. Possible grinned. "I think we can work out something that is agreeable to everyone."
She'd been dreading this moment since she woke up. The only things that marginally brightened her day were the flowers Ron brought her, which were sitting in the window sill, and her midterm grade report, which was outstanding as always. It was now the second week in March. She was supposed to start trying to stand today.
Brilliant. More torture.
When she arrived in the therapy room, her eyes widened.
"Hey KP. Ready to get this show on the road?"
"What the... Ron? How did you... what did...?"
He chuckled, tucking her hair behind her ear and kissing her cheek tenderly. "KP, Sweetheart, you've got your connections... I've got mine."
She just rolled her eyes and hugged him. "How did you swing this?! They don't let people in here."
"Your folks haggled with the Man around here, and got me in twice a week."
Her future in that instant became considerably brighter.
"It's supposed to be a trial thing. If they don't see any improvement they'll stop the whole thing. But I know they will see improvement, because first, you're Kim Possible, and you're like a cat with nine lives, except it's more like nine million. And second, because you're not going to be bored or tired or stressed out with your favorite Ron-shine around to cheer ya on. You were the cheer section, KP, now you have one."
She just shook her head. This boy was insane.
But he sat with her through every exercise, counting out loud for her, letting her squeeze his hand when she was in pain, and talking to her to distract her from her anxiety. Yes, she did feel a lot better.
"Okay Kim, I'm going to explain your next exercise to you. We're going to get you standing today!" said the therapist, trying to infuse excitement into the situation.
Kim felt her heart sink. She didn't think she could stand yet.
"You hear that, Sweetheart? We're gunna get you on your feet," Ron grinned, kissing her hair. "You can do this," he said into her ear. "I'll help you."
She exhaled and listened as the therapist, Miss Jill, explained the first exercise. It was supposed to help the muscles in her hip. She gripped Ron's hand. She was partly excited and mostly anxious to try this.
Ron smiled at her. "You can do it, Sweetheart. I'll count to three and then you can stand. Use my arms to support yourself."
"Okay." her voice was small.
He knelt in front of her, framing her face with his hands. "Hey. You can do this, okay? I'm right here holding on to you, and Miss Jill will be right behind you. If you get tired before you can finish we'll sit you back down okay? At least try." He kissed her forehead, the way he always did when she was in Tri-City Regional, and it made all of her anxiety and tension melt away. She griped his forearms and he held her elbows in his palms and pulled herself up.
He stood with her, the smile on his face getting bigger and bigger as she steadied herself.
She took a minute to assess herself. Putting weight on her left leg was painful, but standing wasn't so bad. She'd missed it.
She liked how being in his arms felt too. She sort of wanted to kiss him now that she was standing. But he was a bit taller than her, and if she tried to reach up she might end up falling over.
He read her expression with an amused look on his face. "Focus," he said lightly, chuckling a little.
She cleared her throat as heat rose in her cheeks. No one had ever been able to distract her like him. She wondered if it was good or bad.
"Ready to start, Sweetheart?" his voice was low and sort of soothing, like it always was these days. She nodded and began, part of her mind counting along with him while the rest of it focused on the words of encouragement he would whisper to her when she felt her leg start to get tired, the heat of her exhaustion searing in the muscles of her hip and thigh. When she finally finished the ten reps that four months ago would have been cake to her, Miss Jill directed her to repeat the process with her right leg. She balked. She could barely stand on it before, and now it was tired from the exercise she just did. She wouldn't make it through the first rep.
"You can do this, Sweetheart."
She gripped his arms tighter.
She'd been staring out the window since she got back to her room. Sometimes she smiled, sometimes tears slipped from her eyes unnoticed. He was at a complete loss of what to do. She had a shrink here, and he'd contemplated putting in a call to the lady and begging her to help him understand why his... girlfriend... was acting like someone died and not like she'd taken her first steps.
He'd been working with her for three weeks now, and her hip was getting stronger and less painful. Her knees weren't giving out on her so much, and she could actually stand on her own to do her exercises, using him for nothing more than to maintain her balance.
Today, the therapist, impressed with her sudden leaps and bounds of progress, had wanted her to try to take a few steps. She'd walked a few steps before her left knee gave and she hurtled to the floor with a yelp, making him scramble to catch her before she hit the ground hard.
She'd been silent ever since.
He reached his limit. "Sweetheart... you're scaring me."
She turned her blank gaze away from the window and toward him. "I was walking today."
"I know," he beamed at her, squeezing her hand.
"I fell."
"You did fantastically," he argued.
She shook her head. "I never fall. I don't choke, Ron. Ever."
"KP, you were in a horrific accident in which your left side ended up like leftovers from a crocodile's lunch. You didn't choke. You did great."
She just stared out the window.
He stared at their joined hands. He had to find a way to make her see. She was beautiful and amazing and strong... so strong. If only he knew how to...
Well maybe he didn't but he knew who did.
"You have a visitor."
She raised her eyebrows in surprise. No one ever visited her anymore, the only person who did was currently still in the hospital. Or was she? She wasn't sure, the last time she'd spoken to Kim she was still bed-ridden in Middleton's rehabilitation center.
She wheeled herself into the visitation area. It was empty except for a young man with messy blonde hair. He was wearing khakis and a red hoodie. "Who are you?"
"Not important," he said, and his voice sounded like he was disgusted to be speaking to her. "I'm here because I have to be, not because I give a shit about a murderer like you."
"I don't need this shit," she growled. "If you came here to berate me about my mistakes then you can just get the fuck out."
His hand stopped her wheel chair from rolling away. "It might have been a mistake the first time you let one of your agents die. The second, third, and fourth times were planned. And Kim..." he swallowed and rage blazed in his eyes. "You left her on that thing to rot. She was in pain for days. Because of you."
"How do you—"
"I'm not done talking," he hissed. He turned away from her. "Like I said. I'm not here for you."
"But you did enjoy making me feel like shit just now. Do you think I don't know what I did?"
"I don't give a shit if you do," he shrugged.
"Fuck you! You know what, how did you even get here? Get the fuck out."
"Kim does, though," he continued, ignoring Sherri's angry words. "She likes you for some reason. I'm not her, I can't look at murderers and see potential. But she can, and she sees something in you. Something she respects. I'm here for her, not you."
She shut up. That caught her attention. She studied the boy carefully. "You must be Ron," she finally said. "She talks about you a lot."
"She was walking yesterday. She took five steps and just about fell on her ass. She thinks she choked."
"Yeah, Kimmie would think something like that. Lil Miss Perfect can't handle when something doesn't go the way she wants."
"She's not some spoiled brat," Ron hissed at her. "She's—"
"What does she need?" Sherri interrupted, her voice sharp. She was done with this conversation.
"You," he said simply. "Whatever you did to visit her that last time, do it again. I don't know or care how you managed to get out of your special place in hell, but she needs to see you. Visitation ends in two minutes."
He stalked toward the barred door, and she simply stared after him as she was wheeled away and the door buzzed closed behind him.
Asshole.
Kim was talking to Monique and Lilith on her Kimmunicator when a sound made her look up. Her eyes widened. "How in the—are you here legally?" She picked up her jaw and smirked.
Sherri laughed. "Yep. Got my groupies with me to prove it," she said, pointing behind her to the guards posted at the door. One of the guards had to work really hard not to laugh.
"Groupies huh? Who said you're cool enough to have those?"
"The jury," she deadpanned, making her way to where Kim was sitting. "You look good."
"So do you," Kim said with a wide smile.
Sherri smirked. "I don't believe that but thanks."
Kim rolled her eyes. "Hey guys, I gotta go," she said to her friends, who were watching her talk to someone not on the screen in confusion. "Someone is here to visit. Catch you flip side." she disconnected and turned off the device, throwing it across the room to her bed. She turned back to her green-eyed, pale skinned friend with a smile.
Her friend was not smiling. "Your boyfriend got all up in my space two days ago. He doesn't like me much."
Her eyebrows shot up. "Ron went to see you? Why? How'd he even know how to find-"
"I haven't the slightest clue," Sherri shrugged. "He made it very clear that he was there because I'm your friend and not because he wanted anything to do with me. He also made it clear that he was the one in charge. I like that guy, he's going to be a huge reality check for you."
Kim choked on something and used her arm to cover her mouth as she coughed. "Beg pardon?"
"Oh you heard me, Princess. Your little boyfriend's got big balls to talk to me like that. I woulda kicked them right the fuck off if he hadn't told me that you need me." She stared out the window. "Or if I could use my legs."
Kim rolled her eyes. "So that's what this is about? Ron thinks I'm freaking out over nothing."
"Yes," she hissed. "You and your perfect little life, perfect friends, perfect boyfriend, perfect family. You think this feels like a prison? Try being in a real God-forsaken prison! You think it's bad that you took five steps before you landed on your ass?! People like me don't get to take even one step. And you know what? Even if I could walk, I'm never going to get my life back! I'm never going to be able to go anywhere. Once you're out of here, the only excuse I have to see the outside world will be gone, too, so instead of crying about how much you choked, think about everyone that wishes they had the chance to do even that, and then get the fuck up and do it again and again until you aren't falling anymore. You've always had everything I ever wanted," she ended in a whisper, tears leaking from her eyes. "Don't fucking waste it over this bullshit."
"Sherri, I—"
"You have everything I wish I had. You have another chance to get your life back. Your life always was perfect. And it always was bright. Your future was always brilliant. Reach out and take what you have. Stop taking it for granted. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. It could be worse."
Kim was stunned into silence.
"I'll never see my family again. I'll never walk. I'll never have the future I wanted, even though I fucked it up all on my own with that stunt I pulled. I'll never have friends that give a shit about me—"
"You're wrong about that," Kim said quietly, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt and reaching for Sherri's hand. "I'll always be your friend."
"I have no clue why the fuck you would want to do that," she said with a rueful chuckle.
"Because I care about you," Kim answered simply. "I always thought of you as a friend."
"It didn't hurt you to find out that I was the one that sold us out?"
Kim shrugged. "Friends don't always like each other. Friends hurt each other, make mistakes, do stupid shit... but friends always forgive each other, and friends always love each other. Friends don't hold onto the pain, but instead take the lesson and use it to make their friendship stronger. You fucked up. Whatever. I fuck up all the time with my friends. They are always mad at me because I bail on them for a mission or something."
"This is hardly the same kind of fucking up."
"Maybe, but the principle is still the same. Real friends get over it."
"And you're over it."
Kim nodded. "It doesn't take away from the damage done to the families of those people, or the mark you put in my jacket. But it is what it is, and at the end of the day, your life is fucked up too. I know you did what you did because you wanted to take what I had. I can be a bitch about it or I can offer you what I can give you: friendship."
Sherri pondered that for a moment. "Looks like we both have some homework to do," she said with a chuckle. "You, stop acting like a baby and man up. So you fell. Do it again until you don't fall anymore. Don't let this get in the way of your life. Don't take your second chance for granted. You can do this, you know. Your website says you can do anything."
Kim grinned. "And you, don't forget that you aren't as alone as you think you are."
Sherri squeezed Kim's hand, sudden tears clogging up her throat. "I won't forget," she whispered. "Oh one more thing, I talked to your nerdlinger yesterday. He helped me get something together to add to your bracelet. You should get it in a few days."
Kim smiled at her. "Thank you."
"Whatever," Sherri smirked. Kim mock-saluted her, and she received Sherri's signature one-finger salute in return. Kim's laughter followed Sherri down the hall.
Four days later, Kim opened a small box to reveal a silver trinket that looked like a girl in mid-roundhouse kick. Upon closer inspection, she realized the girl was an image of herself.
The letter that accompanied the charm read:
Princess,
I don't know if you or your family is religious, but I found this in my celly's stuff... she has a Bible, for some reason, and I flipped through it. Nosy of me, huh? Anyway, I read this and I thought you could stand to read it too. It says:
"I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength." Phillipians 4:13
Don't forget, no matter how hard it gets, no matter how many times you fall, you will always be the girl that survive anything, be successful at anything, do anything. You can do this. You can and you will.
~Sherri G.
She wiped her eyes and folded the letter. Their family, she guessed was... she wasn't sure. They celebrated Christmas and Easter and such, but it wasn't religious except when they said grace before eating their special dinners. When she was a small girl she remembered that Nana Possible had a Bible too, but she'd simply never taken interest in reading it.
But she'd seen this poster of this particular verse before. It was a picture of a man with a prosthetic leg standing at the top of this huge rock that he'd climbed, looking out at the ruggedness below.
She thought to herself. She really could do this. If that guy had to learn how to use a fake leg to rock climb for thousands of feet, she could figure out how to keep her legs from slipping out from under her long enough to make it across the room. Rock climbing was so not the drama anyway.
She pushed her blasted wheelchair away and stood.