A/N: Chapter 14 is here! Right now, I'm thinking this installment has two more chapters to get through before it's done :) Please review! I'm a feedback junkie, and momma needs a fix!
Disclaimer: I don't own any Kim Possible characters/locations. I do own the Syndicate, Miriam Gordon, and any other characters not affiliated with Kim Possible. Except Batman. I don't own the Batman.
While Rooke, Kim, Ron, Drakken, and Shego were in the Oval Office, the rest of the Syndicate sat in the room just beyond the secret doorways that led the President's mainstay. The acting secretary sat behind her desk looking entirely uncomfortable. She did her best to remain busy, but she couldn't help glancing over worriedly at the rough-and-tumble group that had piled into her office not an hour before. She knew she had nothing to worry about, though. There were Secret Service agents stationed outside and within the office. If any of these newcomers tried any funny business, they could be handled with easily. She hoped. Thankfully, the newcomers did not seem to pay her any mind at all.
Once they were all in the room, they went about making themselves comfortable in their chairs. The smallest of the group – a young girl covered in tattoos and piercings – was the only one who kept busy. For whatever reason, Secret Service had seen fit to allow her to keep her own small lap computer. She worked diligently, the secretary envying how quickly and effortlessly her petite fingers flew across her keyboard. Her black eyebrows were furrowed and creased as she stared at the screen. The secretary absentmindedly wondered what the young girl was doing.
Not that it was any of the secretary's business, but Angela was once again processing and de-crypting several of Cutting's letters and web searches. So far, it was the usual junk: 'Your payment is due', 'What are the Anarchists up to?', 'Weaknesses in major governments', etc. However, there were a few new editions that caught Angela's eye. Once she was able to decipher the pages, all she could think of: "Margo is going to want to see this."
After about an hour after the arrival of Dr. Director and Mr. Rooke, Secret Service notified her of a second group of visitors. They, too, were associated with Mr. Rooke. She rang and notified the President, and uneasily waited for the new arrivals.
Not long after getting off the phone with the President, did he and the rest of the Oval Office occupants exit their meeting. All but Petterson excused themselves, as they needed to take care of other business within their own offices. As they exited, they all discreetly eyed the rag-tag bunch that they assumed were Rooke's agents. They were neither soothed nor impressed by what they saw.
"Mr. President," Rooke said, stepping forward, "may I introduce my team and family."
Slowly, the members of the Syndicate got up from their seats. Angela quickly shut her small laptop and shoved inside the bag next to her.
"This is John-Paul. My sons, Derek and Sutton, Ronan and Angela."
Heath made his way down the line, politely shaking their hands. When he got to Ronan, he hesitated for a moment, taken aback by her injuries. She smirked and held up her bandaged hand. Heath nodded his head and then reached for Angela's small hand.
"Your wife and other guests should be in the main hall by now," Heath said, leading the group out of the annex. Two Secret Service agents followed them.
After turning down the hall, the way opened, creating an elongated room. Striding towards them were Margo and the families that had been left in Mullion's Cove, flanked by even more Secret Service. Kim's heart rose to her throat when she saw her parents and brothers. She found it odd. Never before, following a mission, had that physiological response occurred. She broke away from the cluster and trotted towards her family. She wrapped her arms around her parents and pulled them into a hug. Ron followed her lead, hugging his mother and father. He took Hana from his mother's hip, raised her above his head and brought her safely against his chest.
Unfortunately, the reunion was not nearly as pleasant for Karen, as Ronan obviously did not go bounding across the hall to greet her mother. Instead, Karen's breath caught in her chest as her eyes became full with the sight of Ronan's beaten and battered body. She also sensed Drew's hot glare on her. Karen didn't return the angry look, but she did look at him morosely. She had asked him to do one thing: watch her. And now Ronan was bruised and bleeding.
Drakken eyed his former lover with as much animosity as he could muster. He still didn't have a concrete plan as to how he would pin the blame for Ronan's disparagement on her, but he would find a way. He wanted her to realize what she had done to him, and to her daughter.
Shego, who was at his side, was vaguely aware of his bitter mood. She would've taken another stab at trying to pry the reason for it out of him if she hadn't been so distracted by Rooke's statement earlier. Once prompted, she was able to recall her mother mentioning Leiriakkesh a few times during her childhood. These comments were always fleeting, as her mother always said: "My life did not begin until I came to America."
Other than that, her mother never spoke of Leiriakkesh or anything associated with it. Shego's maternal grandparents were never personified nor mentioned. Her mother never spoke Leirian, and she tried for years to squelch the lyrical accent she spoke with.
Now, for Shego, everything was bubbling up. The situation in which she found herself had gotten even more personal. First, it was simply a kidnap plot against her and Drakken, and then her Aunt got shoved into the mix. Now the same man who ordered the hit on her was responsible for the upset and subsequent fall of her mother's homeland. Shego's mother was probably the only person in her family she could tolerate. No matter how bad Shego had screwed up in the past, her mother had always been there for her. She hadn't spoken to her mother for ages. However, Shego did have a secret security deposit box in an undisclosed location on a certain private Caribbean Island in which she would, on occasion, receive hand written letters from her mother. Shego never wrote back, but the letters came anyway. She kept them in a shoebox under her bed.
Margo continued to walk forward. She briefly hugged Rooke and pecked him on the cheek, before turning to Heath.
"It is a pleasure to meet you Mr. President," she said warmly, shaking his hand. Behind her the Possibles and Stoppables – all slightly 'star struck' – smiled and waved.
Margo looked passed the President to Ronan. "I brought you a change of clothes. I wasn't sure if you had any in the Daeva."
"I did."
"I see that. Unfortunately, you look more of a mess than necessary. Here," Margo said, thrusting the bag she was holding out, "these at least fit."
Ronan muttered a thank you, awkwardly taking the bag. The nearest Secret Service agent led her away, taking her to the nearest restroom so that she could change.
"I brought changes of clothes for the rest of you, as well," Margo told the group. "They are in the car outside."
A flurry of relieved sighs echoed around the hall; all of their clothes were stiff with dust and rubble, and were starting to get uncomfortable. As the two groups began to merge into one, Karen and Drew found each other.
"What the hell happened?" she quietly demanded. "I asked you to watch her."
Drakken bared his teeth. "I was not there when fell off the motorcycle – "
"She fell off a motorcycle?!" Drakken's glare deepened. "What the fuck, Drew?"
Shego watched the pair from a few feet away. She hadn't followed Drakken as he left her side; she was still pondering and he was clearly blinded by something he needed to talk to Karen about. She didn't care as much as she had upon first meeting the other woman. Shego's confidence in her and Drakken's relationship had been strengthened considerably; mainly thanks to the kiss he planted on her that morning and by the soul-eating look he was giving Karen at that moment. There was certainly no love lost between the two.
Karen paused, unable to fully verbalize her unsurprised disappointment and distrust. Finally, she whispered, "And you wondered why I left. Why I didn't tell you about her – "
"Her middle name is Grace!"
Karen's own rant wavered as Drew randomly exploded. She didn't understand why that mattered. It seemed like an odd thing to say, given their building argument.
"So what?"
"'So what? Seriously?" Drakken raged, voice jumping an octive. "You cannot expect me to believe you just simply decided to give her that name."
A warm flush rose in Karen's neck and face. Her green eyes involuntarily began to widen and twitch as she looked at him. Neither of them seemed to be aware that their conversation was no longer just between them, as those around them began to whisper and stare.
"If memory serves, you don't particularly care for the name 'Grace'," Drakken hissed.
Karen pursed her lips and paused. Too late, she came back with the retort, "I like the name just fine."
Stepping over Karen's poorly constructed comeback, Drakken said, "Bull shit. You're lying."
Shego's eyebrows shot up; surprised at hearing Dr. D swear. She had heard him do it before, but it didn't come as naturally to him as it did her. Usually he softened the curses with stupid innuendos like 'bull buttons' or 'doodles'.
"I remember you specifically telling me you didn't like the name," Drakken reminded. "Just as I'm sure you remember me telling you that I liked 'Grace' very much." Karen's nostrils flared and her lips pulled into a telling grimace. "If you were so dead-set on not including me in her life, then why, for Heaven's sake, would you give her name that is so important to me?"
"Fine!" Karen yelled. "You're right! Some stupid, naïve part of me wanted to eventually seek you out to tell you about Ronan after she was born. But once I found out what exactly you were doing with your life, I put a halt on that idea. This is your fault!"
"Excuse me?"
Shego had not been able to tear her eyes away from Drakken and Karen. Their argument was very similar to a car wreck: she couldn't look away, even though the clutching, wrenching, squeezing sensation in the pit of her stomach begged her to.
"What's going on?" a voice at her side said.
Ronan had returned, dressed in the clothes Margo had brought her.
"Mommy and Daddy are fighting," Shego explained.
"Oh for fuck's sake."
Ronan gimped into the group and made for Karen and Drakken. Unbeknownst to her, Margo quietly slinked behind her to make sure that Ronan would not cause an escalation in the fray.
"Girls, girls," Ronan interrupted, sauntering up to her parents. "You're both pretty. What the hell are you fighting about?"
"You." Margo stated simply, stepping out from behind Ronan.
"All of you need to calm down." Margo shot looks at Karen, Drakken, and Ronan. "If all of you are intent on making spectacles of yourselves, fine, I'll play along.
"What's done is done. Playing the 'blame game' is infantile and useless. Dr. Drakken, Karen may have at one point after Ronan's birth, considered involving you in your daughter's life. But she didn't. Get over it. Unless you build a time machine, there is nothing you can do about that."
"Don't give him ideas!" Shego cried.
"I cannot deny that stripping her from your life was cruel. Although, that is not as cruel as Ronan voluntarily renouncing you."
Margo eyed Ronan as she said this, watching the young woman's bruised and chapped lips pulling themselves into an angry line. Ronan looked over at Sutton and muttered, "Mama's boy."
"Do not blame Sutton for calling you out on your short-comings, Ronan," Margo reprimanded. "He nor I want to see you make a mistake. Carpe Diem, young lady."
Ronan felt an unwelcome heat radiate from behind her ears and her fingers flexed at her sides. Margo looked at her with stern and motherly eyes. She spared Ronan further embarrassment, and turned to face the rest of the group.
"Now," she said, clasping her hands in front of her, "Angela was able to contact me on the way here." Her voice shifted into 'business-tone', although there was a hint of concern in her eyes.
"This," Angela said, stepping forward and holding up the small laptop she had previously been working on, "is the condensed multi-processer that I've been using to hack into Cutting's computer systems. He's been unusually inactive as of late. However, these past few days, his search engines have been very active."
"What's he been investigating?" Rooke asked.
"The comet accident outside of Go City in 1990."
No one said anything, not sure how to respond. Kim and Ron looked over at Shego, who was staring blankly at Angela.
"Why would he suddenly be interested in that?" Shego finally asked.
Angela shrugged. "Probably for the same reason he's using Vrishkov and some kind of alien technology to destroy cities; he's a neo-xenophile. The Lorwardian invasion inspired him to take global domination to an extraterrestrial level. He must of come across some newspaper articles from the nineties concerning you and your brother's accident, and thought it was worth looking into."
"Thinks it is, or thought it is?"
Angela shifted her shoulders lazily. "Thinks. I'm still running his latest correspondence through my systems, but – "
"Whom is he corresponding with?" Heath asked, taking a decisive step towards her.
Angela's bright blue eyes shifted from the President, to Rooke, to Director, and back to Rooke.
"Umm . . . " she hummed.
"Mr. President," Rooke interjected, "there is one more thing I need to tell you about concerning Cutting." Heath turned to look at him. "He has a mole within your system. One we know for sure, but there are probably more. Not just here; probably in other major governments, as well."
"We're you planning on informing us of this before you took off?" Petterson asked angrily.
Rooke glanced over at Director, who was standing stiffly off to the side. She briefly looked down at her shoes before swallowing her pride.
"The mole Mr. Rooke is referring to is in my organization, Mr. President. It's in Global Justice."
"How long have you known?" Heath asked.
"A little over a week. I have refrained from releasing the information to you or Secretary-General Bur-Whazahm until I was absolutely certain. I did not want to cause unnecessary panic in the wake of the invasion. But now, following attack on Chernobyl, I can confirm that something is amiss within the confines of GJ's walls."
"What makes you so sure now?"
Director licked her lips and said, "The Rabbit had an ATP proto-type that he used to get away. No one but Global Justice personnel has ever had access to its technology or blue prints."
Despite Heath's calm composure, Kim could a vein beginning to tick in his temple.
"How?"
Director knit her brows together and admitted, "I'm not sure. We don't know who they are or at what point Cutting had them infiltrate the system."
Heath stared at Director for a moment more, before his eyes fell to the floor and then locked with Rooke's again.
"Do you have any evidence that he has moles elsewhere?"
"Nothing definitive," Rooke answered. "But knowing Cutting, I don't doubt it for a second."
Heath nodded distractedly, beginning to pace.
"So," he finally said, "he has one of his agents in our judicial system looking for unique ways to bring us down?"
"Well, you and the rest of the world," Angela corrected. "But, yeah."
Silence fell over the crowd, no one knowing what to say. Drakken looked over to Shego, whose one arm was tightly wrapped around her waist and the other was up by her face; that hand clenched in a tight fist against her lips. Her brow was crumpled and her eyes were staring blankly in front of her. Margo was finally the one to break the silence.
"Mr. President," she began, "I speak for all of us when I say: Thank you for the invitation to D.C. However, I am afraid that we will have to be taking our leave. If I know my husband, I know that he has graciously declined your offer to work directly along side your government. I hope there are no hard feelings. Please do not misinterpret this belligerence. We will not be working against you. We appreciate the outreach, though."
With that, Margo and Rooke began to lead the Syndicate and their 'visitors' out of the White House. As they all came out onto main terrace, Shego brushed past J.P. and Derek to walk alongside her Aunt and Rooke.
"Where are we going?"
She had a feeling she already knew the answer, but she wanted to be sure.
"Go City," Margo answered, not looking at her. "I did not anticipate this move of Cutting's. We need to make sure my brother and yours are aware of the situation and kept safe."
"Is it really necessary to make a special stop to Go City?"
Margo turned to face her niece, her face slack with calmness but her eyes were blazing with fury.
"Cutting will not touch my family. Especially the one that is unable to properly defend themselves." Shego opened her mouth to protest but Margo stopped her. "Yes. Despite your brothers' powers, the way that Henry has Team Go working, they won't last long against the Black Rabbits. That, and if the Rabbits catch wind that your mother is from Leiriakkesh, there will be a lot bigger problems to deal with."
"Why does that matter?"
"Weren't you listening earlier, Saoirse? Lucas Cutting has been, for all intents and purposes, running Leiriakkesh since 1960. He and his Rabbits have made sure that almost no one has left those borders since then. Your mother was one of the few who managed to escape. If the Rabbits somehow find out that Miriam Gordon is first-generation Leirian, they will find her and bring her back to the province. And since you and your brothers are half-Leirian, they will also see fit to try and bring you back. Or kill all of you. One of the two."
Shego gaped at her Aunt for a few seconds, not knowing what to say.
"What now?" came a voice from the open door.
The Syndicate, Kim, Ron, their families, Drakken and Shego turned to look at the speaker: it was Minka, Will following closely behind her.
"What do you mean 'What now?'" Derek asked. "I figured you two be staying behind with Director. Now that her cat's out of the bag."
Minka frowned. "We were given specific orders to keep an eye on Kim, Ron, Drakken, and Shego while they were in your care. Those orders have not changed."
"I think can all agree that they are in no immediate danger while they are in our care," Derek spat back.
"Enough," Rooke ordered. "I've had enough of arguing for today. Agent Carlisle and Agent Du are to stay with us; as are the Possibles, Stoppables, Dr. Drakken, and Saoirse. We will all return to Hoolock airbase, get in the Daeva and fly a few hours East. We will land somewhere remote and spend the night. Tomorrow, we continue to Go City."
No one said anything, no one argued.
It was around eight at night by the time Ronan once again landed to Daeva in a isolated valley in the Appalachian mountains, about an hours flight from Washington D.C. At once, John-Paul, Derek, and Sutton gathered a series of tarps that were kept under the Daeva's floor and headed out into the darkness with them. The tarps, as it turned out, were a series of tents. The Possibles and Stoppables got the two biggest ones, so as to accommodate their families; there were four other smaller tents, each made for two occupants that were split among the rest. The tents themselves had been configured into a circle, with the Daeva standing protectively a few feet away. Once all the tents had been set up, John-Paul went about making a fire in the middle of the circle.
Kim and Ron sat in the grass as the fire began to flicker and take form. Minka and Will sat by them, and their parents were not too far away. Hana, Jim and Tim had been put down to bed in the two larger tents. Shego had also disappeared into the tent she had claimed for herself and Drakken. After awhile, the rest of their company came to sit by the fire. The only people missing were Ronan, Sutton, and Mrs. Dr. Possible. Those three were still in the Daeva. After much protesting, Ronan had seceded, and agreed to let the neurosurgeon examine her to make sure that she was definitely alright following her accident.
Since leaving D.C., Kim had occupied herself with her Kimmunicator. She had briefly talked to Wade, informing him of Chernobyl and their impromptu trip back to the United States.
"What's next?" he had asked.
"We're off to Go City," Kim explained. "Gonna meet Shego's parents."
"Weird."
"Ch-ya," Kim quipped. "I don't know what Rooke has in store for them. This group is big enough already; I can't see adding six more people to it. Hey, quick question. Have you heard of a place called Leiriakkesh?"
Being a super genius, Wade was usually pretty good at knowing things concerning random people, places, and things.
Wade looked puzzled for a moment, "I don't think so. Why?"
"Rooke mentioned during the 'meet-and-greet' with the president. He said that Cutting ran it."
"Okay," Wade said slowly. " That's random. Why didn't Rooke mention this before? Like, ya know, when he was telling you about the Syndicate's origins."
Kim shrugged. "Dunno. It's seems like a pretty big side note to keep out of the story."
Wade nodded in agreement. "I'll see if I can find anything and let you know. Wade out!"
Just as Kim's Kimmunicator blacked out, the Daeva had begun its decent into the valley. Now, she sat on the ground, her head leaning on Ron's shoulder, watching the orange and yellow flames of the fire lick the night air.
"We used to have fires like this back home in New Mexico," Minka uttered suddenly.
Kim glanced over at the agent. She was sitting with her knees tucked up into her chin, her arms wrapped around them. Her chin rested rigidly on the top of her kneecaps as she stared blankly forward. Her eyes appeared detached and glassy.
Kim sighed and added, "It's nice. Despite the circumstances, I guess. My family and I make fires every time we visit my uncle and cousin in Montana."
"I didn't know you had family there," Minka commented.
"Just Uncle Slim and his daughter, Joss. She's about four years younger than me."
Minka nodded absently. Suddenly, she stood up and began to walk towards one of the smaller tents.
"I'm going to bed."
Kim watched her go. Just behind the tent Minka had zipped herself into, she saw the outline of Drakken. He was facing away from the fire, looking at the Daeva in front of him. The Daeva's steps had been lowered since they landed. Kim wondered why he just didn't go up them. But then she remembered the spat he and Karen had in the White House and how dejected he had looked on the flight to D.C.
Not having children herself, Kim found it difficult to imagine how it must feel to find out that your parent so late in the child's life and to have that child reject you. Drakken was her arch foe, or had been – she didn't really know where she stood with the doctor (or Shego, for that matter) since saving the world together. Despite this, she couldn't help but feel sorry for him.
As Kim continued to gaze at the back of Drakken's head, she heard the rustling and crunching of grass as someone walked behind her. She turned to see Karen walking on the skirts of the circle. Soon, she too left the glow of the fire and became little more than a silhouette. Kim hoped that Karen wasn't going over to Drakken to reinitiate their squabble; one had been awkward enough. Thankfully, it didn't appear so. When she was in reach, Karen attentively placed a hand on Drakken's shoulder as she came around to face him. Kim watched for a moment more as to the two began to talk. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but it seemed to be civil.
As Karen approached Drew's back, she reached out a hand and hesitantly placed it on his shoulder. She felt him jump a bit as her palm molded to his broad deltoid. To her surprise, a small vine shot from his neck and wrapped itself around her hand and wrist. At first it gave a constricting squeeze, but when Drakken saw that it was Karen, the grip loosened. Gracefully, she stepped around to face him.
Looking into his eyes, she took a deep breath and whispered, "I'm sorry, Drew. I truly am. I don't know how many times I can say it."
She removed her hand from his shoulder and tried to let it fall to her side, but the tendril that had wound itself around her stayed in placed, not allowing her hand to fully fall. It hung strangely between her and Drew. He didn't seem at all perturbed by it and didn't bother to call the vine back. Instead, he continued to stare at the ground, letting Karen's apology roll around in his head.
Finally he whispered, "I know."
He lifted his head and look at her. For a minute the two just stared at each other, until Drew said something that took Karen aback.
"I'm sorry too."
Karen's mouth opened a bit, lost for words. She again glanced down at the vine holding her hand. It had started to bloom small, light colored flowers. Karen glanced back up at Drew, still uncertain of what to say. Thankfully, the clatter of someone descending the Daeva's steps saved her from having to say anything.
Drew's vine quickly unfurled itself from Karen's hand and disappeared as they both turned to see who was exiting the jet. It was Mrs. Dr. Possible. Seeing the two, she quickened her pace.
"She's fine," Anne answered before Karen could ask. "Her injuries are purely superficial."
A faint smile twitched at the corners of Karen's mouth. "Thank you."
"It was my pleasure," the doctor ascended. "Now if you two will excuse me, I'm gonna go hit the hay. Long day."
With that, Mrs. Dr. Possible brushed past them and entered the tent circle. Karen looked back to Drew.
"I'm gonna go talk to her," she said. "Do you wanna come?"
Drew paused, his eyes darkening. He shifted his weight, turning to the tents.
"No thank you."
Karen watched Drew as he headed for the tent Shego had disappeared into. She sighed, folding her arms across her body as a chilly breeze blew through the valley. She turned on her heel and headed for the Daeva's stairs.
As Karen climbed her way into the cabin, she saw Ronan and Sutton sitting their usual chairs. The only difference being, they were swiveled so that they faced each other. Ronan had her long legs stretched out; her feet perched on one of Sutton's armrests. In her lap, the napkin of food that Drakken had offered her earlier lay open and she was sucking on a piece of cold beef.
Upon seeing Karen, Sutton leapt to his feet, while Ronan remained in her relaxed position.
"I'm . . . er," Sutton muttered heading for the stairs, "gonna check on . . . that . . . thing."
"What thing?" Ronan called lazily.
"You know, that . . . jet . . . fuel . . . emission . . . thing," Sutton warbled, brushing past Karen and descending the steps.
Once he was gone, Karen turned back to Ronan and jokingly said, "He doesn't work well under pressure?"
Ronan tossed her beef piece back into the napkin. "Usually he does. He also usually improvises a little better."
Karen grinned and began walking toward the seat Sutton had vacated.
"So, you built this?" she asked, sitting in the co-pilot seat. Karen glanced around the Daeva's interior and at Ronan.
Ronan swung her legs off of the opposing chair's armrest and sat up a little straighter. She didn't meet her mother's eye, but she nodded almost undetectably.
"Ronan," Karen chuckled. "You're amazing. I really had no idea."
"After seven years of accelerated schooling, you had no idea that I'm smart?"
"I always knew you were smart. I just didn't realize that you . . . could build super duper planes and stuff," Karen explained lamely.
"Oh yeah. Super duper planes," Ronan said. "Wait until you see my other 'neat-o' stuff. I've got some trinkets that are just too 'hep' to handle."
Karen smiled, and shook her head. "You are just like your father."
Ronan's reddened eyes snapped to her mother and her posture automatically became rigid. "Am I?"
Karen's smile fell and she scooted closer to her daughter. "Ro, I've already told your father and I've already told you, but I'll say it again: I'm sorry. Like Margo said, we can't – I can't – change what I've done."
"Do you regret it?"
"Right now, only in the sense that it led to this shit show that we are currently in," Karen replied with a detesting smirk. Again, her face fell into seriousness. "I had planned on telling you eventually. I swear. But when I found out that he was criminal . . . I couldn't do it. I didn't know what he'd do to us. To you. Can you blame me?"
After a moment, Ronan said, "I guess not."
Karen's eyes grew soft as she stretched a finger out to brush away an unruly slip of hair that had fallen into Ronan's eyes. Lovingly, she slicked back on top of her head.
"I am so proud of you," she whispered. "I know I haven't said that enough."
"Why?" Ronan asked. The question was genuine.
"First off, because you're my daughter," Karen answered with a quiet laughter. "Also because you've accomplished so much, and you are continuing to do incredible things! I mean, I don't have all the nitty-gritty details, but you're helping make the world a better place. Aren't you?"
Ronan shrugged and muttered: "Yeah. I guess."
"Plus, you're not a fuck-up like I was," Karen admitted.
Ronan's eyes grew wide and exasperated. "Don't patronize me, mother."
"I'm not patronizing you," Karen insisted. "Yes, we've definitely had some rocky times, but at least you didn't runaway and get pregnant by some guy you had only known for a few months."
Again, Ronan's face grew limp as a faint veil of hurt fell over her. "You regret that, don't you? You must."
Karen sighed, running her fingers through her long hair. "The situation was not ideal, but I do not in any way regret anything that gave me you."
Ronan couldn't help but look at her mother skeptically. "I'm not in any way a disappointment to you or your family?"
"You know what? Forget my family. Fuck 'em. Any baby that doesn't come out wearing pearls or a Ralph Lauren Polo is going to be a disappointment as far as most of them are concerned. But you most certainly are not a disappointment to me, Grandma, or Grandpa."
The look of skepticism did not wash away from Ronan's face. In fact, it began to mix with an irritated grimace. She knew Karen was purposely over selling this apology. Ronan shifted in her chair and looked away from her mother.
"Hey," Karen said firmly, sitting even closer. Hesitantly, Ronan met her mother's gaze. "I mean it. You are not a disappointment. You have never been. Don't presume other's feelings and thoughts about you just so you have a reason to block them out."
Ronan swallowed. "You talked to Margo."
"She talked to me, but that doesn't matter. No one thinks of you that way. You're amazing. You've done incredible things. You have no reason to shut him out."
Ronan was struck by the sudden pronoun. The two women sat in silence for moment before Karen spoke again.
"I'm sorry. Again," she added. "Ro, I'm really tired of this Joan-and-Christina-Crawford thing we've got going on – "
"We're both to blame for that. Mostly me, though," Ronan said quietly, not meeting her mother's eyes.
Mildly flustered by Ronan's acceptance of responsibility, Karen continued, "Now that the 'Dad' thing is out of the bag, can I please be a part of your life. Not even a big part; I'll settle for a small part."
A small, unstoppable grin flickered across Ronan's mouth. After a beat, she said, "We can try, I guess."
Karen smiled and got up from her seat, taking a couple steps towards the stairs.
"Good night, Mommie Dearest," Ronan said over her shoulder.
Karen chuckled, turned, and kissed the top of Ronan's head, "I love you, Baby Jane."
Ronan sat; stunned at the degree of affection she had received. She watched her mother go down the Daeva's steps and disappear.
When Drakken entered the tent, he saw Shego sprawled across one of the sleeping bags, her arms flung over her eyes.
"Are you okay?" he asked as he zipped up the tent's door.
"Meh."
"I see."
Drakken waddled over to the sleeping bag next to her and lay down. Feeling his weight next to hers, Shego automatically grabbed his nearest arm, pulling it behind her head so she could scoot closer to him; she used his shoulder as a pillow. Drakken didn't protest. In fact, he was a bit baffled by the uncharacteristic affection. At least it was Shego-ish in the fact that she didn't ask for him to put his arm around her; she just took it and made him do it.
Settling in, Drakken let out a sigh, "Long day."
"Mmm."
There was a small pause before Drakken took another stab at a conversation.
"So, Go City tomorrow," he broke off waiting to hear what Shego would say.
"Dr. D," she droned, "don't go there."
"Go where? Go City?"
"Dr. D," Shego growled.
Hearing the warning rumble in her voice, Drakken tried a different tactic.
"You've never mentioned your parents. I didn't know they were still alive."
"Why wouldn't they be?"
"I dunno," he said with a shrug. "I guess I always just thought of super heroes as being orphaned."
"Batman, Team Go is not."
Drakken nodded. "So, what're your parents like?" He heard and felt Shego growl next to him. "Oh, c'mon Shego! You've met my mother!"
"Yeah, I didn't ask for that." Shego suddenly sat up and turned to look at the doctor, "D, have you talked to your mother since the invasion?"
Drakken blinked at her. "No."
"Don't you think you should?"
"Why?"
Shego gawked at him. "I don't know if you've noticed Dr. Perceptible, but a few major events have taken place recently that she should probably be made aware of."
Drakken scoffed and settled himself back down onto the sleeping bag. "Mother gets cable. I'm sure she saw the awards ceremony."
"That's not exactly what I meant," Shego said, slapping his side.
"Hey! Oh," Drakken cried, sitting up and catching Shego's annoyed look. "Yes, I suppose I should give mother a call. Considering," he gestured between them.
"Yeah," Shego drawled. "Telling her that we are now an item would be good. But I was also thinking about a certain tall-and-dark someone. Name rhymes with Shmo-nan."
Drakken frowned and laid back down on his sleeping bag. "I don't think I need to bother mother with that."
"What? Why not?"
Drakken made a face and rolled away from Shego so that his back was facing her.
"What were you and Karen fighting about today?" Shego asked, figuring that Drakken's sudden sour mood was somehow connected to that.
When he didn't answer, Shego let out a small sigh. She adjusted herself, and leaned on Drakken's arm, resting her head on his shoulder.
"My Dad's name is Jay Gordon, my mother's name is Miriam. Dad's the Go City chief of police. Mom stays at home, taking care of the house and the twins. I don't think I've ever told you their actual names, have I? Well, there's Henry, the oldest. Then Mel, and then the twins: William and Wallace."
"Ronan wants nothing to do with me," Drakken said suddenly.
Shego shifted her head to look at him. His brow was furrowed and a deep frown etched his face.
"So that's what happened before we left Belarus," Shego whispered. "I'm sorry, D."
She squeezed his arm lightly, rubbing it tenderly. Scooting a little bit forward, Shego rested her head on his. A few minutes of silence past as both of them stared at the nylon side of the tent.
"Maybe she'll change her mind," Shego said after awhile. "She's an angry kid, Dr. D."
"I didn't know my father either," Drakken said. "I always wished I did. I just assumed she would feel the same."
Shego had never heard Drakken mention his father. Biting her lip, she asked, "What happened to him?"
"He died in a car accident before I was born. He is little more to me than a few photographs," Drakken confided bitterly.
"Maybe you should tell her that," Shego offered. She kissed his cheek and said, "Good night, Dr. D."
"Good night, Shego."
Miriam Gordon was woken up by the sun pouring in through the bedroom window and by the light summer breeze fluttering through the gossamer curtains. Stretching languidly, she kicked the sheet off her body and glanced over at the digital clock on the end table: 6:50 AM.
Yawning she sat up and swung her legs to the floor. Rubbing her eyes, she looked over to her husband's side of the bed. It was empty. He had needed to get up at four o'clock so he could get to the station and oversee the shooting range. He would be back around lunchtime. Sighing, Miriam got to her feet and shuffled towards the Master bathroom.
After showering and dressing, Miriam headed downstairs. The house was empty except for her. Not only was her husband at work, but her youngest – the twins – were at Go Park High School, helping with the cross country camp there. Entering the kitchen, she was greeted with the smell of coffee; Jay had left half a pot for her before leaving that morning. Miriam poured herself a mug, and popped it in the microwave to warm it up. As she waited for the beverage to finish, she looked over the newspaper clippings that she had been affixing to the fridge for several years.
All the articles and photos had to do with Team Go is some respect: benefits, saving the city, being granted keys to the city, and so on. The newest edition to the collage was a clipping concerning an award ceremony that had taken place in Washington D.C. barely a week ago. The picture was of her daughter, Saoirse Gordon (AKA Shego), and her employer. Miriam had contemplated getting in touch with her daughter since the invasion, but thought better of it. If Saoirse wanted contact, she would initiate it. Although, as days past with no word from her, Miriam started to get discouraged. She didn't know if she was being naïve or not, but she had thought that since saving the world, Saoirse might come home. At least for a bit.
The microwave beeped and Miriam retrieved her coffee and grabbed a banana from the basket on the counter. She settled herself at the kitchen counter and perused the morning paper as she sipped her black coffee and ate her breakfast.
At 8:00, Miriam headed outside to work on her garden in the front yard. As she collected the necessary bags of soil, trowels, and hand-rakes, she idly looked south. From the Gordon family house, she could see the tops of the Go City skyscrapers, and even farther down the horizon she saw the faint outlines of the Chicago skyline. Sighing, Miriam got to her knees and began to dig through the plants and dirt.
It was about ten in the morning when the Syndicate and their followers got off the interstate and headed into the surrounding suburbs of Go City. After landing the Daeva at an abandoned farm just at the Wisconsin-Illinois border, Rooke made arrangements from the crew to take three cars into Go City. Kim wondered just how many people Rooke had at his disposal that enabled him to land pretty much anywhere and was able to call for a ride. It reminded Kim of . . . well, her.
As it turned out, Shego and her family didn't actually live in Go City. The Gordons actually resided in Go Park, a well-to-do middle class suburb just twenty minutes from the heart of the metropolis.
As the three car caravan zipped through the winding streets of Go Park, Kim was struck by how nice the neighborhood was. Most of the houses were old, colonial style structures with sprawling front lawns and stone walkways.
Belatedly, she realized that all three cars were pulling up to the street curb and coming to a stop. Kim looked outside the passenger-side windows up at the house they were in front of. It was a large, white, two-story colonial with navy blue shutters and trim. Unlike the other houses on the block, this one had a white picket fence surrounding the front yard, and extended back beyond the house. The fence, as well, as the house's porch and yard, was adorned with all matter of floral plant life. Vines of pink and blue colored flowers twisted themselves around the stakes of the fence and around the posters that held the roof above the porch. Other kinds of flowers and Hastas lined the brick walkway that led to the porch steps. Two enormous Hydrangea bushes flanked either side of the stairs, blossoms of cream hanging on its branches.
Just as the large group began to exit their respective vehicles, a woman rounded the left corner of the house, carrying a pair of pruning shears. Even under the shadow of her wide-brimmed sun hat, Kim could see that the woman bore a remarkable resemblance to Shego. This woman was a tad shorter, and her body had softened with age and childbearing, but this woman was undoubtedly Shego's mother.
As she came back to the front yard, she noticed the slew of people that had filled the sidewalk in front of her house. Her walk slowed as she gazed, confused, at the group. Then she stopped altogether as her eyes picked out Shego in the crowd. She dropped the shears she was holding and began striding towards the fence. Taking a deep breath, Shego unlatched the gate and began walking up the way to meet her mother.
Without a hint of hesitance, Shego's mother wrapped her arms around her daughter, hugging her tightly. Despite that she was spattered with dirt, Shego didn't seem to mind the embrace. A moment passed as the two women held to each other, swaying lightly. Then Miriam spied Margo and Rooke in the crowd. Slowly, she let go of her daughter, her eyes glued to her sister and brother-in-law.
"Margo," she said, astonished. It was almost undetectable, but their was a strange lilting accent to her voice.
"Hello, Miriam," Margo said warmly, stepping through the gate. "You remember my husband, Stephen?"
Rooke stepped next to his wife, smiling softly.
"Of course." Miriam glanced back over at the rest of the visitors, then to Shego, then to Margo. "What's going on?"
"May we come inside? There's a lot of explaining to do."
A/N: The Mommie Dearest/Baby Jane/ Joan and Christina Crawford allusion refers to . . . well, Joan Crawford, who was made infamous when her daughter wrote a book (called 'Mommie Dearest') chronicling the mother and daughter's tumultuous relationship. 'Baby Jane' was a film starring Ms. Crawford and Betty Davis.
I hope you all liked this chapter. I promise, excitement will ensue in Chapter 15. A certain technicolor bunch may show up . . . maybe even a rabbit or two.
Please review! :D