Author's Notes: The title has changed—or been moved back—because some key scenes have been moved back—hence the changed title for this chapter.
And speaking of titles, thanks to coming the closest in my last contest, I told Pavelius & A very odd fellow that they could each ask a secret question about a character or a plot thread and I would give them the inside scoop. I hope my answer satisfied A very odd fellow and I'm still waiting to hear from Pavelius…
Oh, and while I hope it really doesn't need repeating: THIS STORY CARRIES AN "M" RATING FOR A GOOD REASON. Visitors under the age of 17 should not read without being accompanied by a parent or guardian.
Once again, the readers' requests count, so far:
The return of Mama Lipsky/Mastermind – 1 vote
Ron being "attacked by crazed supermodels" per his "wish" in the episode "Exchange." – 2 votes
The return of Camille Leon - 1 vote
No other reader requests to date…
Required Disclaimer: The author of this multi-chapter/multi-story arc possesses no rights or ownership over the original Kim Possible stories or characters and receives no financial benefit from this work. Please pay him in wishes for good karma—the only legal tender in this realm.
Chapter 25– Coming Clean
"Well," Heather observed, peering over the bar at a passed out Tara King, "that was rather quick."
Monique nodded. "Bonnie had said something recently about her having a low tolerance for alcohol. I guess she shouldn't have gone digging around back there for additional bottles."
"Frankly," Britina muttered from a nearby table, "I think she had the right idea."
"It doesn't really help," Zita slurred from the back of the room.
The main door suddenly slammed open. Ron and Penny stumbled into the room together.
"Well, where the hell have you two been?" Monique snarled as they staggered into a couple chairs and bounced off a table.
"Help me," Penny gasped.
It was at that moment that everyone (except for Tara) got a good look at the man she was largely holding up with her arm and shoulder.
"I'd really like to sit down, please…" a bruised and bloody Ron Stoppable mumbled through split and swollen lips.
Heather screamed.
As a Hollywood B-movie actress, she was a really good screamer.
RSVP
The old man maneuvered his motorized wheelchair closer to the bed. "She is very beautiful, Kimberly," he told his newly-adopted daughter and partner-in-crime. "Is she one of your wounded minions? Or is she another part of our villainous plan to take over the world?"
The question startled the former teen heroine out of her brooding silence. "Er, not exactly either, Señor—er—Father. Her name is Yori…and she's sort of…a…hostage…"
The old man's eyebrows slid upward. "A pregnant hostage," he observed. "In a coma."
Kim slowly nodded.
"Who is the father?" he asked when it appeared that she would say nothing further.
At first he thought that she hadn't heard him. Then he supposed that she might not know the answer.
But then she finally bowed her head and whispered: "I think its Ron…in fact, I'm pretty sure of it…"
RSVP
Shego and Bonnie burst into the bar area and discovered a cluster of women, huddled next to one of the small tables.
"What's going on down here?" the head of security demanded as she stalked toward the group.
"More napkins, please," said a familiar voice. "I don't want to get blood on the carpet…"
Shego pushed through the gathering and gasped as she saw her missing employer.
Ron Stoppable looked like the cover of one of those old Doc Savage novels that she used to "borrow" from Hego when she was a kid. Except Doc Savage had never displayed vast amounts of bruised and bleeding skin where his shirts had been artfully torn to show his chest, arms, and abs. Doc Savage had never been painted with one eye blackened and the other swollen shut.
And Doc Savage was never hunched over with a look of utter bewilderment and defeat on his battered features.
She knelt beside his chair and winced as she looked up at his sorrowful face. "Ron?" she said softly and gently touched his knee. He winced though she barely made contact. "What happened?"
He shook his head and a stripe of blood appeared on her cheek like war paint.
"I'm taking you to the hospital."
"No," he croaked. "Secure the doors…put entire building on lockdown. Just in case. And call Liz."
"Who?"
"Liz…abeth…"
"Lizabeth who?"
"Director."
"Bets? And what am I supposed to tell her? Bring band-aids?"
He winced at her tone and she was instantly sorry. But still furious.
"Penny will explain…"
"Fucking A," someone murmured behind her.
"Just want to go upstairs…and lie down," he continued. "After I catch my breath…"
"Stoppable," she growled, suddenly even more frightened. "There's no way in hell I'm letting you go into another healing trance!"
He waved a bloody Kleenex like weary zombie. "No…no…just want to clean up …'n' lie down for twenty minutes. Then…round…two…"
Shego turned to glare at Penny. "What the hell's he talking about, Lane?"
The blonde with the striking eyes was wringing her hands. "It's…a story. But we should probably lock the doors like he says—just to be safe."
Having a better idea than most just as to what Ron Stoppable was capable of, she looked at the bloody and beaten form next to her and was suddenly afraid. "Okay ladies, you heard the boss!" she said. "I want this entire building on lockdown, stat! Doors, windows, any point of entry on every floor! Where's King?"
"Behind the bar," Zita offered.
"What?" She looked, expecting the blonde medical student to be pouring drinks. Instead, she caught a glimpse of a foot, sticking out from behind the bar, on the floor. "Oh." She looked around. "Rockwaller! Do you think you can help Stoppable back to his room by yourself?"
Wide-eyed, Bonnie nodded and stepped forward to help Ron to his feet.
"I'll help," Penny offered but Shego's arm blocked her way.
"You'll be staying down here and answering some questions," Shego told her. The expression on her face brooked no arguments. "C'mon, ladies! Hustle, hustle! Then we'll reconvene for story-time with blondie, here."
Penny swallowed as she looked around and saw that Shego might be the least of her worries
RSVP
Señor Senior, Senior brooded in his study after Kim's departure.
When he had first turned to super-villainy as a retirement hobby, it had all seemed very exciting in the abstract.
It was supposed to be like some giant game of chess with your targets, foes, and the gendarmes, of course. As a gentleman mastermind, he envisioned daring heists and complicated capers where no one was truly hurt—except the insurance companies. And the spinning tops of doom? Team Possible was supposed to run away! Not engage in a manner where their lives were in actual jeopardy! Even so, a super-villain expects his nemeses to be of a higher caliber and, therefore, being fully equipped to deal with whatever might be thrown at them.
If there was an occasional casualty it would likely be someone like that pompous ass from the Billionaires Club who had it coming!
He never envisioned innocent bystanders and collateral damage.
And never in his wildest dreams had he imagined the face of beautiful young woman, as still as death, a pawn on the chessboard of his own naked ambitions…
It had been fun coming up with his various schemes. Having the money to buy the toys and trappings of super-villainy. The island lair. The robots, missiles, and automated lasers. The killer koi.
Up until now, it hadn't been up close and personal.
But now…
Now it was not just the idea of a lovely young woman, a young mother with child, sleeping a long and deep sleep on death's doorstep that disturbed him…
No, what bothered him more was the look in his young protégé's eyes.
Eyes that were stunned and haunted. Eyes that were a window to an inner world of hurt and pain and breathtaking betrayal.
And maybe more than a little madness.
This…Yori…was a source of great weakness and vulnerability for Kim—that much he could read in her face and hear in her voice.
The question was, had Kimberly taken her so that she might be used against her former partner when the time came?
Or did she seek to protect herself from a greater wounding than what she had already received with this discovery?
She had returned to her base of operations, leaving this Yori behind with Señor Senior, Senior so that her hostage might receive the best of care while keeping her hidden.
But who, the old man pondered, was he really supposed to keep her hidden from?
Ron Stoppable?
Or Kim, herself?
RSVP
They took the elevator up.
Ron was able to limp along with some assistance but it was clear that the stairs were a total no go for the moment.
"Sorry, Bon Bon," he whispered as she held the elevator door open and assisted him off onto the third floor.
"What? Why?" she asked as he limped beside her down the hall.
"Your coat. I'll pay…to have it cleaned. Or buy you a new one."
She glanced down and saw the reddish brown stains where he had leaned against her. "Are you kidding me?" She slapped his arm and yelled: "How can you even think about—"
And abruptly stopped as she realized he was going: "Ow…ow…ow…"
"Oh, God! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! Oh Ronnie!"
"'Sokay." He tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace. "Just help me get my door open."
They stopped in front of the door to his personal quarters and he looked down. "Sorry," he said, "key's in my pocket…"
"Yeah, sure," she said sarcastically, her smile belying her tone of voice, "bet you planned it this way all along." She dipped her hand into his pocket and moved it around.
"Nice, he said with a painful smile, "but you've got the wrong pocket."
"Hold on," she said. "Don't rush me. Maybe I need to make absolutely sure…"
"Bon Bon, please," he touched her arm. "While the idea of you playing pocket pool with me would normally be a pleasant fantasy, I really need to get inside and off my feet."
"Oh. Right. Heh!" She switched hands and pockets, coming up with his keys in short order. "And don't call me Bon Bon! Or I'll call you Ron Ron!"
"Ahhh! Okay! You can hit me again but don't call me Ron Ron!"
"Then we understand one another," she deadpanned as she unlocked the door and swung it open.
"Yes." He held out his hand for his keys. "Thanks. I'll take it from here…"
"Oh, hells no! You can barely stand! I'm not leaving until I'm sure that you're all right!"
RSVP
Hego glanced at his watch and headed into the main room of the Go Tower.
The twins were already there, waiting nervously by the big screen.
It was a daily ritual that they'd performed even since an envelope had arrived with a terse note and a tiny domino mask enclosed.
Three P.M.
Right on time, the giant view screen flickered to life. As long predicted, it was easily hacked by any super-villain with a competent tech-minion.
The image was the same—or nearly the same—as always.
A stoppered bottle was shown in close-up. Inside the bottle was the model of a ship that looked like it had battered itself upon the smooth slope of a glassy reef. Around the base of the hall were the desiccated bodies of three dead spiders.
And sitting on the side of the model ship was a much diminished Mego, sans mask, and wearing a plastic cocktail sword thrust through a belt made out of a twisty tie.
A newspaper bearing the current date was held up next to the bottle as "proof of life."
And then the picture faded to be replaced with text on the screen.
Remember, he is safe as long as you do nothing and as long as you tell no one, the text read.
The screen went blank after another thirty seconds and what was left of Team Go returned to the most difficult task that had ever known.
Waiting.
RSVP
She watched him through a crack in the not-quite-closed bathroom door as he stood at the sink and stared at the already fogged mirror. In the background she could hear the tub filling with water. The air inside the tiled room was already heavy with moisture and tendrils of mist seeped out into the bedroom where she stood as a sort of befuddled, voyeuristic sentry.
Clearly, he wasn't all right and she had visions of him drowning in his own bathtub.
Finally, his hands moved and plucked at his shirt as he tried to unfasten the buttons. She winced as she saw the bruised knuckles and swollen fingers. No wonder he was having so much difficulty.
She took a deep breath and pushed the door open, stepping inside.
"Here," she said, "let me help." And she began unbuttoning his shirt.
His reaction time was slow and by the time he had turned his face to hers, she was already slipping the remains of the shirt from his shoulders.
What happened? she wondered as she moved around him to test the water temperature in the tub. Is he concussed? Or just exhausted? The water was too hot so she adjusted the taps to cool it down a little. The bathtub was larger than standard and, therefore, a greater hazard to someone who might not be able to lift themselves up or out.
"I—got this," he mumbled through swollen lips as her hands moved his aside and went to work on his belt. He didn't "let" her so much as seem powerless to stop her. The buckle came undone and then it was déjà vu from high school all over again: his pants were suddenly around his ankles like they had just teleported there.
She knelt at his feet and eased his socks and one shoe off—the other shoe was missing. He had to lean over her, his hands on her shoulders as she managed this and getting him the rest of the way out of his pants. Otherwise he might have fallen.
Still might, she decided as she stood again and looked him over. The scrapes and blood and bruises were bad enough but there was something in his face—or, rather, something now lacking there that disturbed her. It was as if he'd lost something of himself, something essential had gone missing. He was hurting, for sure. But it was as if he didn't care that he was hurting…and that thought made her feel a little sick inside for some reason.
"Thanks, Bonnie…I'll take it from here…" He turned and slipped a little on the tiles, slick from the condensation from the hot water and the cool air.
"Hold it right there," she ordered, slipping off her coat. Let me put some towels down, first." She bustled about, making a non-skid path across the floor and then took him by the arm and led him over to the tub.
"Sit on the edge," she told him as she helped him down. "Let's take this real slow."
"Nice outfit…" he said as she helped him swing one leg around and eased it into the water. "Some sort…of sorority…party…on campus?"
Bonnie looked down at the colorful harem-girl costume that she was still wearing and realized that Ron probably didn't know anything about the trip to Babastan and Operation Duff Justice as he'd still been in that healing trance when they'd left.
And now he was injured again!
"Do you like it?" she asked demurely, side-stepping the question until the disastrous mission could be discussed at a more opportune time.
"Who wouldn't?" he said with a crooked smile. "I'm good now. Thanks. You can get back to your party…"
"Ron, she said gently but firmly, "that party is over. Besides, I'm not leaving until I'm sure that you're all right." She reached up and unhooked the front closure on her jeweled bra.
"H-hey," he said weakly, "wh-what are you doing?"
"It's a nice outfit, Ronnie; you said so, yourself. I don't want to get it wet. Or scratch you—you're already scratched enough." She shrugged her shoulders, thrusting her chest at him and let her top fall down her back and arms before placing it on the counter by the sink.
Ron turned away and covered his eyes with a shaky hand.
"What's the matter, Ronnie? You were marri—you've seen breasts before," she said, as she wiggled out of the sheer, harem pants.
"Yes. But they weren't your breasts."
"What's so special about my breasts? It's not like they're sacred or holy."
"Actually…back in high school…they sorta were. There were two or three cults…built up around them…and I personally knew…some of the guys…who worshipped—" He stopped talking as she sat beside him and he felt one of the subjects under discussion brush his arm.
Reaching over, she grasped the loosened waistband of his shredded boxers and ripped them away from his body. The material gave way easily having already been weakened by the colossal fight that he had obviously been through.
"Hey…" he said weakly.
"What? You wanted to save them for a souvenir? You weren't ever wearing those scraps again." She saw that he was now using his other hand to cover his groin.
"Give me your hands, Ron. Both of them so that I can help you into the water." Neither hand seemed inclined to move. She frowned and then grinned an evil grin. "Ron? You were talking about my breasts a moment ago and now you've got a hand between your legs. What's going on down there?"
Both hands came away, albeit not with the speed that they might have normally moved. He was obviously still hurting and his reaction time was behind the curve. She helped him swing the other leg over the edge and then she stepped into the water, herself, noting that his eyes were squeezed shut. Kneeling, she helped him down into the tub
RSVP
Shego stopped by the table where Monique sat with her crutches. "Did you finish securing the doors and windows in the restaurant area?" Shego wouldn't have even asked that of the injured girl but Monique had insisted while the others were checking the perimeter of a factory-sized building.
The black girl nodded, barely glancing up from her fashion magazine. "What about the bots?" she asked.
Shego shrugged. "I've had Bebe and Dede out running a search grid for Ron since this morning. I need to talk to Vivian about rigging some sort of communications thingy because I have no way of recalling them."
"What about Cece?"
"I have no idea where she—it—is. That one always seems to be disappearing at the oddest times." She turned back to Monique who had returned to her fashion magazine. "You should probably go back to your apartment until we assess the threat.
Monique's only reply was to pull a wicked-looking stun gun from her purse and press a button. Three-hundred-and-twenty thousand volts danced between the two metal prongs.
"I'm good," she answered.
RSVP
The water was already turning brownish-red as she eased him down against the back of the tub with a rolled up towel being his head for a pillow. Opening the drain, she adjusted the hot and cold taps to replenish the water as it recycled.
"This feels great," he murmured, as the heat from the water began to penetrate his bruised and aching muscles.
"Good," she said quietly as she took down the hand-held shower attachment and a bottle of shampoo. "Just let me know if I hurt you," she told him as she gently wet his hair.
"You mean now or all through high school," he whispered.
She almost dropped the attachment as she set it aside.
"Omygod! I said that out loud, didn't I? Bonnie, I'm so sor—"
"Don't!" she said, her fingers covering his broken mouth. "Don't apologize! I should be apologizing to you. You have nothing to be sorry for!"
"Still—"
"Be still!" She hissed. "I was a total bitch you in high school and you totally didn't deserve it! I was immature and weak and jealous—"
"Jealous?" He cocked his head and she noted that his eyes were still shut tight.
She knelt between his legs, marveling at extra room in the oversized bathtub and poured some shampoo into the palm of her hand. "Let's just say that the only choices that I could see at the time was to either bitch and snark and not get what I wanted or…"
"Or?"
"Put Kim in a shallow grave so I could collect the spoils."
"Who's Kim?"
And there it was again.
That surprising reminder of Ron's very specific amnesia and the great, big, aching hole in his history that was waiting to be filled.
"Hush," she said as she bent over him, "and let me do something nice for a change…" Slowly, gently, she began to massage the shampoo into his scalp.
RSVP
"Slow down," Joss called as Anne drove them past Vandamm Street on their way to Upperton.
"Why?" Anne asked. "The force field is still up, isn't it?"
"Wal, yeah," her niece allowed. "But ah thought ah saw it flicker. An' it looked like Cece was a-goin' around behind there…"
"Who's Cece?" Jessica asked from the back seat, as Anne hit the brakes and spun the station wagon into a U-turn.
RSVP
He kept his eyes shut through the washing and rinsing of his hair. Twice, in fact as the first time his bath-mate found herself removing twigs and gravel and unidentifiable pieces of detritus from his scalp with the first pass.
He kept his eyes shut as she gently cleaned his face, dabbing at the crusted blood with a soft washcloth. She was pleased to see that not all of the blood was his own.
The scratches across his chest looked painful but appeared less serious than some of the older scars that were white lines transecting the purple bruises on his pectorals. He hissed briefly as she put an arm around him to pull him up to wash his back: broken ribs? Or merely cracked?
This new position brought her upper torso in proximity with his face. It was a good thing, she mused, that her patient was still trying to not peek: her hardening nipples were threatening to poke his eyes out!
Easing him back down and returning to his front, she moved the soapy cloth down his abdomen, surprised and yet not surprised to see that her charge had the rippled musculature of an "eight-pack" (Brick had only had "six"—and that only during football season).
He shivered a little as she washed lower so she moved to his legs, picking more gravel out of his bloodied knees. As she worked her way back up his thighs, she could see his sex beneath the murky water: impressive, yet still flaccid. A part of her was relieved and yet another part was disappointed.
While not the slut that some supposed, Bonnie had been to third base more than once. Or was that second? The conversation with the other girls had been more confusing than enlightening…
The point was, no other guy had ever been in a situation quite like this. She was naked. She was wet and soapy. She was solicitous. She was kneeling between a young man's legs practically thrusting her ta-tas in his face while running her hands all over his own, naked, wet, and soapy body.
Either he just wasn't interested.
Or he was really hurting!
"I'm putting my money on hurting," she muttered.
"Wha—?" Surprised, he had involuntarily opened his eyes. Which quickly squinched shut, again.
She sat back on her heels. "Ron…Ronnie…look at me."
"But…you're naked…"
"So are you, Champ."
"Yeah, but…I'm nothing to look at…"
Her eyes widened. What? Did he really think that he was unattractive? Who put that ridiculous ide—
And then she remembered a certain teal-eyed cheerleader back in high school who never missed an opportunity tear a certain team mascot's self esteem to shreds.
"Oh, Ron…" Tears began to fill her eyes. "…do you think I'm pretty?"
"Uh…ye-ah."
"Well, I think you're pretty, too."
He snorted and she started to weep.
"Ron…oh, Ronnie…I really do think you're pretty…and…and…I got to look at you naked in here all of this time…won't you look at me…just a little bit?"
His eyes were open now. And they weren't looking at her breasts—which were magnificent, by the way—or any of the intimacies of her nude and nubile flesh.
He was staring at the most naked part of her, now…
Her face.
"Bonnie…what's wrong?"
She shook her head and sobbed harder.
Wincing, he reached up and closed his poor, banged up hands around her upper arms. Gently, he pulled her down and cuddled her against his chest. "D-don't cry, Bon. It will be all right. Just tell me what's wrong…we'll...fix it…whatever it is…"
That only made her cry harder. And the water was cold before she was finally cried out.
ABOUT THE TITLE: Of course there's the whole bath scene but "Coming Clean" is about Bonnie confessing to Ron, as well.
A/N 2: Well, I've you've been here before, you probably remember a different title for this chapter—a title that's been moved to the next chapter for reasons that will be shortly obvious. I thought I would get to those scenes in this chapter but sometimes (make that often) the writing doesn't go as planned. And sometimes I use slightly obscure titles or titles with multiple meanings so I used to explain the meaning or reference at the end of each chapter. I took most of that out with the rewrite—just added to the clutter.
REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 25
CajunBear73 9/17/12 . chapter 25
Hope Penny can get the rest up to speed, unless they swarm her for going off alone with Ron... And they can withstand what's coming.
Kim may be turning a darker corner than she ever intended, and Senior may help save her from herself when the time comes about Yori and Ron. But why do I suspect Hirotaka as a divergence in this for Ron's wife?
Enjoyed Kurt's tales, those I've read, but that one I hadn't come across.
CB73
Erm…something's coming? (whistles innocently) Penny is definitely on thin ice with the rest of the girls—and she won't be the only one. And, DARK Kim? Maybe Ron should just take the easy way out and kill himself now… As for Vonnegut, "Welcome To The Monkey House" was both a short story and a collection of his short stories. And, again, I'm going to postpone using that title for another chapter. (Like Tolkein, the tale grows with the telling. Stay tuned for RSVP IV: The Kimarillian!) R~13
masterbow 9/25/12 . chapter 25
I can see Mego becoming a badass now hes in constant danger. Bonnie being herself with ron continues to be a way to get ron to open up
It will be interesting to see if Mego's isolation and imprisonment change him in any way—assuming that he survives, that is. As for Bonnie? Continue on to the next chapter… R~13
A very odd fellow 9/28/12 . chapter 25
I thought your response to my question was fantastic, and am quite grateful for such a thorough one. I think you did an amazing job with this chapter; the emotion was flowing freely, which can be difficult to properly express, but you managed wonderfully. I'll also go ahead and vote for "Ron being 'attacked by crazed supermodels' per his 'wish' in the episode "Exchange.'" as well. I'll have to do some research if I'm going to find any of my own wishes, and will now go back to eagerly awaiting the next chapter.
-Avof
Glad you liked my answer(s) and I'm a little chagrined to say that I've ended up going down some side roads that I didn't anticipate in the beginning of the first section (RSVP I: The Fellowship of the Ron). While I still think things are still going to turn out the way I planned, reader pressure and the green gladiatrix are messing with chunks of the original concept! R~13
the Desert Fox 8/9/13 . chapter 25
Good chapters. I think Erwin Rommel said it best: "Sweat saves blood, blood saves lives, and brains save both." and "So long as one isn't carrying one's head under one's arm, things aren't too bad."
As long as Ron has all of those ladies under one roof, I'm not sure that heads won't roll no matter how much sweat is involved... ;-) R~13
Sentinel103 8/10/13 . chapter 25
Huh I have another review I can do? Welllllll OH KAY then Rippydude, seems like Senior is having second thoughts about his hobby and Kim maybe trying to stash Yori away from where the stuff is gonna hit the fan maybe to protect Ron's XYL and little Yori. I wonder how this is gonna pan out.
ST-103
I often wonder, too! R~13
Some Dude 9/9/13 . chapter 25
So I'm guessing Ron and Bonnie will get it in next chapter?
Get "it"? Depends on what you mean by "it"... R~13
loganhunter2 chapter 25 . 1/14/14
Bonnie can stay too and can science trap magical mmp ...?
Well...if it can, I'm not sure how long it can hang on to it. But you guys don't want an all-powerful hero: that would be too boring!
Though it would probably make the story a lot shorter.
Hmmmmm...I can see how you might like that. R~13
sparrowhawk63 chapter 25 . 4/29/14
Have enjoyed this for too long without chiming in, and this will be less a review that a few random thoughts...
Ron could have a satisfying long-term relationship with any girl he decides upon simply because of who he is. He is a "healer", of whatever is broken. He will always put the welfare of his family, friends, and loved ones before his own. He gives of himself and loves unselfishly.
That being said, who needs Ronshine the most? Let's narrow down the field a bit...
Kim. If you give Ron his full memory back, and clear up the damage from the synthopukes, he will move heaven and Earth to "fix" Kim. The hardest relationship to make work, because even with a fully repaired Kim, you still have someone that will need to understand she isn't really all that, and there are others that can easily, happily, take her place in Ron's life.
Shego. Nobody can drive you crazy faster than someone you truly care for. Shego loves, and is in love, with Ron. She just has to admit it to herself. Her past has hurt her in ways we are still finding out, kept at bay by the walls of hard indifference she has built around herself. Those walls will slowly drain your strength and kill your soul. With Ron, she could drop those walls and let someone else be the strong one for a change.
Bonnie. Everyone wants to "Bonnie bash", but I see someone who desperately wants to love and be loved, and doesn't have a clue how. Her family is as much to blame as she is for her self-centered, snarky, shallow personality, one that is changing rapidly the further she moves away from the HS food chain. Having Ron in her life and her heart would completely change Bonnie's life for the better. Deserving...no. Needing...without question.
This has become one of my top five favorite stories. I have no idea how you are keeping all this straight, but keep on keeping on! And remember, caffeine is your friend.
You know, SH, you have succinctly summed up the Ron Relationship Trifecta when it comes to what's broken and what needs to be fixed. Yes, there are others with issues and something needs to be done about the Anne and Joss problem (boy, am I gonna hear from some readers for saying that...) but it's Kim, Shego, and Bonnie who are going to be the most affected if Ron ends up with anyone else.
(Holds up hand: "Don't the rest of you start! There is a plan...well, there was a plan...now there's three or four plans...mostly. Parts of several plans that I may have to duct-tape together...the POINT is, I have several good ideas. Pretty good ideas... Just...just...keep reading until I figure something out, okay?)
Anyway, very astute, my friend.
(Maybe the smartest thing is to let the Uptopian spy abduct him back to her home planet...) R~13