Disclaimer: Johnson is mine. Nothing else is.

A/N: well then. Okay, so some people have been commenting that Storm is a lot darker than Unexpected was. This is very true. Maybe some of the darkness is unnecessary, I can admit that. But, I have chosen to make Storm dark, and it will continue to be. This isn't a happy story; it was never meant to be. It was meant to be a continuation of Unexpected, and it is.

Some of you have also commented on the themes of drinking and self-injury that are present in this story. Many seem to be troubled and disturbed by those themes. Good. They are supposed to be disturbing. I chose to go this direction for a reason, and that reason was to show that Shego and Kim are vulnerable. Shego isn't a superhero anymore, she's a person with human feelings. Both Storm and Unexpected have exposed her vulnerable side. While I may have made my characters OOC, I don't believe that I've twisted them beyond recognition.

I guess that's all for now….

-Flame

Middleton was calm at night. No traffic, no lights, no people. Just silence and peace, something that was the direct opposite of what Shego and Kim were feeling.

Shego had made Kim come home for the night. They needed rest, no matter how much Kim protested. So, after much persuasion and promises, Shego had managed to convince Kim to come home and sleep.

So, Kim was in bed, sleeping uneasily. Shego had lied in bed with her for a few hours, but hadn't bothered to even try to sleep. She didn't want to.

Once she was sure Kim was deep in sleep, she slipped out from underneath the covers, and out of the room.

She made her way down the stairs, and into the kitchen. She rummaged in the cupboards, and pulled out the bottle of Bacardi. She didn't bother grabbing a soda to mix it with, instead twisting off the cap and taking a long gulp directly from the bottle itself. She grimaced and coughed, hating the bitter taste of the rum. She pretended it was water, and took another long swig of the liquor, swallowing as she drank.

She coughed once more, and set the bottle down on the counter. She felt her head start to buzz, and started to get dizzy. She couldn't help but smile as she embraced the feeling of drunkenness.

Her hand grasped the bottle once more, and she brought it back up to her lips, taking one more gulp before twisting the cap back on, and putting the bottle back in its proper place.

She closed the cabinet, and stumbled out of the kitchen, her senses dulled by the liquor she had ingested. She somehow made her way to the bathroom, and crawled into the bathtub.

Her hand found its way into her pocket, and her fingers fumbled as she closed them around the razorblade she had slipped in there during their time in Drakken's lair. She pulled the blade out, and looked at it. She held it up to the light, watching as the metal shined.

She put the blade on the side of the tub, and pulled the picture of Agent Bryan Johnson out of her other pocket. She stared at his image, hardly believing that her worst nightmare was once again being thrust upon her.

"I'm going to make you scream…" she could hear him whisper. "you know that don't you?"

She shuddered, the photograph slipping from her fingers, landing between her legs on the floor of the tub.

"My, you are pretty…" he whispered in her ear, his breath against her cheek, "such beauty for a green girl….tell me, does having that weird glow give you some kind of kinky power? Seems like it would…"

"Shut up…" She whispered, hugging her knees to her chest. "Shut up, you're not real….you're not real..."

"Oh, but I am, sweetheart…." His fingers trailed along her jaw tenderly, almost lovingly, "I really am…"

"I said, SHUT UP!" She grabbed the blade off the edge of the tub, and drug it along wrist sharply. The whispers in her ear disappeared, as did the feeling of his touch against her body.

She dropped the blade in her hand, and started sobbing. She couldn't even feel the cut on her wrist, though she did feel her hand and arm grow warm and wet.

She leaned back, her head against the tile wall, breathing deeply. She closed her eyes, fighting off the last remnants of the hallucination.

She opened her eyes, and stared at the ceiling. She was feeling dizzy and faint, something she knew was bad, but she didn't care. She knew she should take a look at the injury she had inflicted on herself, but she was afraid to. She could feel the blood leaving her body, and knew that if she didn't take care of it soon, she would lose consciousness.

She looked down at her wrist. A deep slash ran from one side to the other. Blood poured out from the cut. It ran down her hand and arm, staining her pale skin crimson. She cocked her head, staring at the scarlet liquid as it pooled beneath her.

Her eyelids started to droop, and she had to fight to keep her eyes from closing all the way. She could feel the abyss pulling at her, trying to push her into darkness. She wanted to give into it, oh did she want to. But, she couldn't….she just couldn't.

She pulled herself into a standing position, stumbling as dizziness hit her full blast. She almost fell over, but managed to grab the shower curtain in time. After a few moments, she was able to let go of it. Streaks of crimson were left on the curtain, but she dismissed it as unimportant for that moment.

She stepped out of the tub, and leaned against the sink, closing her eyes for just a moment. Once she had gotten her strength back, she straightened, and looked down into the sink. A wave of nausea hit her, and she fought back the vomit she was sure she was going to unleash. She somehow managed to keep it down, and looked in the mirror. She looked like crap.

She used her other hand to turn on the cold water, and thrust her injured wrist underneath the faucet. She hissed as the water burned and stung the cut, burning even as it washed away the blood that continued to pour out of the wound.

She kept it under the water for a few minutes, biting her lip to keep herself from crying out in pain. The pain was finally starting to set in, and she was realizing how serious of an injury she had inflicted upon herself.

When she figured it was okay, she turned off the water, and examined the wound. She winced as she saw how deep she had cut. She knew that she should get it stitched up, but there was no way she was going to. If she did, it would have to be done by herself.

She bent down, and pulled a first aid kit from underneath the sink. She opened it, and pulled out a needle and thread, along with a Vicodin that she had left over from a past injury. She popped open the bottle of Vicodin, and swallowed a pill or two. She hoped it would be enough as she mopped the blood off her arm, and prepared herself to stitch the cut.

She threaded the needle, and pulled the cut together so that it was sealed. Then, she plunged the needle into her skin, and started in a cross-stitch pattern. A cry of pain escaped her lips as she stitched. It hurt like fucking hell.

She finished a few minutes later, and disposed of the needle and thread. Then, she turned her attention to the carnage she had left behind.

Blood streaked the tub and curtain. The floor of the tub was stained crimson, pooled in several places.

"Fuck…" She whispered. "Fuck…fuck…fuck…"

She grabbed a rag and turned the tub on. She scrubbed the tiles and floor of the tub, using all her force to get rid of every last trace of the evidence. It took her a while, but eventually, every last stain was gone.

Lastly, she picked up the razorblade and picture of Agent Johnson. The razorblade, she put back into her pocket. Then, she took her clothes off, since they were covered in blood.

The picture. She took a lighter out of the first aid kit, and flicked it on. She held the flame up to the picture, and held it as it caught fire. After a moment, she dropped it in the sink, and waited for it to burn out before running the water to get rid of the ashes.

She took her clothes, and stuffed them in a trash bag, then took the bag out to their garbage can outside.

After all that was over, she went back inside, wrapped a bandage around the stitches, and got changed into pants and a sweatshirt. Then, she climbed back into bed, wrapping her arms around Kim.

She didn't fall asleep for a while.

Kim woke up hours later, only to find herself facing Shego.

She smiled softly, and laid there, waiting for Shego to wake up. She let her thoughts wander, thinking about all that they had to do that day….what they had to achieve.

"Morning, Princess…" she heard Shego whisper. She looked at her, and smiled again.

"Morning, Sara." She placed her hand on Shego's jaw, and kissed her softly. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah…." Shego muttered, turning over so that she was facing the other way.

Kim softly stroked Shego's raven hair, strands winding around her fingers. "I love you…" She paused, seeing something in Shego's hair. She stopped stroking it, and instead stared at the strands that were in her hand.

"Love you too…." Shego paused when she didn't hear Kim respond. "Kim? You okay?"

Kim stared at the hair for a few more seconds before answering. "Uhm…yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." She let go of Shego's hair, and laid back down, her eyes shining with disbelief.

In Shego's raven hair, Kim had seen something she hadn't seen for over three years. Something she thought she would never see again.

Strands of pale green.