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12. Distance – part5

Drakken lay blinking up at the figure above him surrounded by a halo of light. But she was no angel. She was a far cry from angel. As he gawped up at her, he came to the very sudden and very shocking realization that he couldn't breathe. There was something very wrong with him – and that damn demon had done it. She'd taken his breath away – literally.

She had some nerve to smile and laugh, even as she reached down to pull him up by an arm, sitting him upright. He made a weak attempt to shove her away as he fought against a paralyzed diaphragm to draw in air. Horrendous wheezes coming from himself drowned out whatever words of ridicule or support she spared as she rubbed his back.

She'd hit him – hard – but maybe he deserved it. He deserved it for the smack he'd given her in the garage last week. Just maybe not so hard as to debilitate him.

It wasn't like he hadn't brought it upon himself though. "Are you going easy on me?" had been a slip of the tongue, but it was a serious question regardless of however teasing it came out. He'd known the answer though. She'd worked at a more intensive pace with the henchmen yesterday, and he was beginning to feel shamefully inferior. Until that point, she'd thrown halfhearted blows with next to zero force behind them in a lesson on blocking, moving just slow enough he could react after she'd explained what to expect and how to respond. Clearly it had been the wrong thing to say because she suddenly struck him in the middle with a jab like a viper to remind him what a real punch was like.

At least she hadn't given him a black eye or bloody nose or split his lip which had only just healed from last week's robot mutiny. He was still thoroughly humiliated as he hung his head between his knees and heaved for air. He tried to ignore her crouched next to him as she reigned in her giggle fit.

No sooner was he breathing steadily again did Shego give him a rough pat between the shoulders. She hopped up, grappling at his arms to pull him up along with her. "C'mon, big guy, it's not that bad. On your feet," she said through stifled chuckles.

Drakken rubbed his sternum as he rose, blinking against the haze. "Glasses—?" he managed to grumble, trying not to look toward the shape of black-painted lips parted to flash pearly whites. Of course his glasses were pushed up atop his head, and of course she'd reach over to push them down because she'd been the one to push them up for safe keeping while he'd bellyached on the floor.

He glared back at her cheeky smile and jerked away the arm she'd been hanging onto.

Having the wind knocked out of him should have been a clue to call it quits. He didn't know why he gave in to her goading to continue. Resuming the practice and letting her put her hands on him to instruct him on self defense was a big mistake from the get-go, but he didn't learn his lesson.

He'd been knocked on his butt enough for one day, and even if there was a padded mat below him, it wasn't padded enough. Drakken began to wonder if she was keeping tally of how many times she could take him down. He'd lost count himself. He just considered himself lucky she didn't knock him out cold.

Breathing deep just to be absolutely certain he still could, he stared up at her blurry shape once more. The woman in green and black harlequin uniform knelt down next to him, returning his miraculously-intact glasses to his face for the umpteenth time so he could see her smug smile clearly. He glared past her instead.

It was then he finally noticed the gathering of henchmen lined up on the catwalk above, and he blanched as Shego twisted to look back herself.

Only two henchmen had been summoned to the gym this morning to sharpen their skills with Shego, yet the whole damn crew had come to spectate. They were chattering lowly among each other, passing cash, blatantly taking bets – on what, Drakken wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know. Probably on how many times he fell.

He bolted upright so fast he nearly knocked into the superhuman leaning over him. He checked his watch – it was five till ten – the henchmen were early. And he had the sneaking suspicion they'd been there a while. Long enough to see him flattened one last time, anyway. Somehow that was worse than having the wind knocked out of him.

"Why didn't you tell me they were there?" he growled over, tucking in his shirt neatly even though he'd be changing it in a few minutes anyway. Force of habit. He caught her sidestepping away, her face flushing a funny shade as she fidgeted behind her back, but the best answer she gave was a shrug to suggest their arrival was news to her too.

Drakken turned his glare up to the henchmen, barking at them to quit standing around and get to work. The two assigned to Shego came forth while the rest of the group split off to the workout equipment. He was conflicted between sticking around to oversee the session and hurrying off to avoid the peer pressure of watching his employees getting daily exercise he so regularly skipped out on. There was no reason for them to all be here, all at once, and he had the queasy feeling it was Shego that lured them to the gym.

But Shego was a skilled fighter. She could handle herself – she'd made that abundantly clear, both to him, and to the whole henchcrew. Worrying about leaving her to them made no sense when her knack for fighting played such a considerable role in why he'd hired her in the first place. They were no match for her. If anything, he should be worried for his crew.

With that in mind, he tried to leave her to it. He changed out of his sweats and T-shirt and tried to unravel scrolls of paper to work on blueprints to fill a custom order, but his mind kept straying from the unfinished page in front of him. He slumped over his lab desk and scratched behind his ear with the pencil, his knee bouncing away anxiously.

This morning, he'd made a point to park out front of her apartment a full hour before she was due to show up at the lair. He'd been just in time, because the civilian Shilo appeared a couple minutes later with her bag of gear. He'd had to honk the horn to catch her attention, because she almost hadn't noticed him, but he'd seen her breathe a sigh of relief as she turned away from the bus stop down the street to climb into his van instead. He'd suggested grabbing breakfast at the Cow-n-Chow, but she'd vetoed it, reminding him of their arrangement by graciously informing him he'd puke if he ate beforehand. He hadn't taken her courteous warning seriously then, but he didn't doubt it now.

Skipping breakfast thanks to her was the only reason he found himself in the kitchen rifling through the cabinets. In the back of his head, he could practically hear his mother's nagging voice telling him to make a proper breakfast of bacon and eggs and all the works, but he tuned it out, especially when the phantom voice insisted he be a good host and fix enough for a guest.

Popcorn was not a balanced meal.

Popcorn did not need to come with him to the gym.

But it did, and he stood on the catwalk, leaning on the rail and munching away at salty buttery puffs as he watched Shego at work. After a short while, he became aware of chatter behind him, and cast a glance back to the array of equipment the rest of the sweaty henchmen were taking a break from.

He caught one nod up at him as they chuckled amongst themselves, and he straightened up and turned his stare sharply back down to the matted corner where Shego had been tutoring the two newcomers.

But she wasn't there – she'd already crossed the gym and was climbing the stairs in long strides.

Suddenly his mouth was too dry to even grunt a greeting as he watched her make a beeline straight for him, and she paused just in front of him, if only to snatch the bag of popcorn from his hands. The collar of her uniform was unbuttoned and unzipped enough to expose her throat, and for a fleeting moment Drakken was inclined to shoot a suspicious glare down to the two henchmen plopping down to rest. But Shego tugged the collar open further, her chest heaving, and he saw the sweat on her brow and glitter of green fire over her skin and realized she was simply overheating.

She nodded to the door and strode off with his bag of popcorn. He followed, but didn't take the bag back from her as she filled him in on how promising or hopeless the dropouts were. She'd snacked through a good portion of it by the time they reached her room, at which point she passed the bag of cold popcorn back and asked if she was done for the day.

He wanted to say no. He didn't forget that this was Sunday, that she'd be busy all morning and then some tomorrow, as she would every day for the rest of the week. But it would be a little on the absurd side to order her to continue exerting herself on a weekend after earning a day off. He checked his watch needlessly, confirming it wasn't quite noon yet, and gave her a nod.

Before she ducked into her room, she wondered, "You gonna give me a ride back to town?"

"Sure," he answered a little too quickly.

She gave him a small smile in a halfhearted show of appreciation, and disappeared inside.

Drakken made a point to drive slowly on the ride in. Broaching the subject of a schedule was disheartening in some way. More formal than he would have liked, maybe, but it had to be done if he wanted to see more of her than a few hours here and there whenever she decided she was bored enough to make the trek to the lair.

By the time he dropped her off at the local library, they'd come to an agreement. It worked in his favor that her apartment didn't have the luxury of air conditioning, because that was the excuse she gave for agreeing to come to the lair in the afternoons to work with the boys for a couple of hours.

Drakken had no qualms with taking a break from the lab to personally make the trip to town every weekday afternoon. It was good to get out for fresh air to clear his head anyway, so he told himself.

He didn't dare set foot in Buckley's Brew that first week. Thankfully the civilian Shilo could be found waiting faithfully for him behind the shop, puffing away at a cigarette more often than not. She'd roll her eyes and snuff it out when she saw him coming.

Over the next few days, he diligently oversaw Shego's mentoring sessions from the catwalk, though he had the courtesy not to bring popcorn to watch the show. It was still a tempting thought nonetheless, but one he resisted. The men were all business, to his relief, and Shego had more self-control than he would have guessed. He'd been worried for nothing.

After training, she'd spend an hour either on his couch in front of the television, or in a spare chair nearby while he worked on his blueprints and began applying them to prototype instruments of torture as the henchmen gradually supplied the parts.

Friday, she voiced her satisfaction with the progress of the henchmen she was tutoring as she met him up on the catwalk. It brought a smile to Drakken's face – he was sure he'd seen improvement, but he was no expert. He expected her to follow him at a distance to the lab as she had the past few days, but instead she skipped ahead a few paces and walked backwards as she questioned him about Friday night plans, which he had to shake his head and dismiss. He was too busy to be thinking about Friday night merriment.

"You should really get out," she said in a chiding manner, swinging around to fall into step beside him. "And I don't mean grocery shopping. You can do that tomorrow."

"I'm not being your getaway driver so you can rob a 24-Seven, or whatever you have in mind," Drakken sighed.

"I wasn't gonna rob anything," she scoffed. It was hard to believe her when she gave a small laugh, especially when she shrugged and added, "Well, not really. Unless you're down to dine and dash."

"Pass." He didn't need to be banned from more businesses than he already was.

She was quiet for a moment too long, and he made the mistake of glancing over to see her chewing a nail and watching the floor in a way he'd come to recognize as meaning she was thinking. He snapped his head to stare straight down the hall again when she looked up at him and said, "You have to take me home anyway, so we might as well stop for Chow."

"Actually I was going to ask Lux to take you," he lied. It was reflex. It shouldn't have been reflex. He regretted it almost as soon as he said it, but going back on his word was almost as bad.

"Fine," she chimed, taking a swift step ahead of him. "Lux works. Goodness knows he's a junk-food junkie."

Drakken knew it was reverse psychology. She wasn't fooling him. Yet he threw his hands in the air anyway, letting out a noise of exasperation as he quickly stalked forward to cut her off on the way into his office. He gave himself half an hour to get the henchmen sent off for the weekend before she was done with her post-workout grooming.

It was pushing it, but when she came trotting back down into the office to ask about her ride, he shrugged and deposited a folder into a filing cabinet. The henchmen weren't all gone-gone, but they were officially off duty and therefore out from his control.

She snorted and turned on her heel, calling from the stairwell, "Fine. I'll walk."

Drakken hesitated behind his desk before hurrying after her. If he wanted to stay in her good favor, then effort on his part had to be made. He'd taken her home – or at least to the library – every night this week, and there was no reason to make the exception now.

Cow-n-Chow was out of the question. She complained as he drove past it, but hummed in consideration when they pulled into a bar and grill instead, only to groan loudly when she saw the karaoke sign in the window. No sooner had they climbed out did a red Beetle pull up alongside the van, and henchmen in casual attire greeted Drakken amicably as they piled out of the clown car. It came as a genuine surprise to him, and maybe not an agreeable one.

Cow-n-Chow down the street was looking a lot more appealing suddenly.

At the first sign of second thoughts, Shego – Shilo – grabbed his arm and tugged him along, smiling wickedly and reminding him, "This was your idea, Doc."

So it wasn't just the two of them, but half the henchcrew too. Big deal. She still sat next to him. And when he went up on the platform to take the spotlight, he still had her full attention. Unfortunately for him, she had his as well. She looked him dead in the eye from across the room as she plucked a chicken strip from his platter to munch on. He'd stuttered and slurred a couple lines, but he still earned a few claps for his rendition of Bad Moon Rising, just not from her.

He didn't feel particularly dignified as he tripped down the stairs either, though that was on him for foolishly glaring at her rather than watching where he was going. His ego was taking a beating lately with her around. Judging by her look, he braced for her to grind salt into the wound, but instead she gave his shoulder a light thump with the back of her hand and rolled her eyes, nonchalantly complimenting, "Alright, that was pretty good."

She excused herself to use the restroom then, and that was the last he saw of her until Monday afternoon.

She was found smoking behind Buckley's Brew again, only this time she was chatting with a gal, one of Buckley's henchgirl apprentices. Making friends wasn't something he himself had been especially good at, but it was nice to see her give a hearty laugh at some joke and playfully shove her smoking buddy before Drakken ruined the moment with a beep of the horn. Her smile fell when she saw him – he shouldn't have hated that as much as he did – but she waved goodbye to her coworker and came sauntering over to him nonetheless.

He didn't linger as long in the gym to supervise that afternoon. He spent less time there on the catwalk the next day, but it was the same old dance as he'd been watching all of last week. He didn't particularly want to be on the receiving end of her strikes, but he didn't want to hover with an unreasonable growing envy of the henchmen either.

He had work to do in the lab anyway. She'd come and take her turn to hover soon enough.

At least, until Thursday came, and she didn't pop up in his lab after the training session. He was determined to not notice, determined to focus on the special order. But after some time of building the framework and upholstering a seat in red leather, he yawned and checked his watch and realized it was nearing midnight and she'd never come around to ask him for a ride home. If he'd hoped to find her on his couch, he was disappointed, but he supposed he deserved her unannounced departure for not speaking a word to her since waving her off to train the henchmen earlier.

She wasn't waiting for him behind the café on Friday afternoon. But he waited for her, no matter how impatient he was. He even risked venturing into Buckley's to see if she was still working the counter, but when he asked about their coworker Shilo, the baristas there smiled nastily and feigned ignorance. He didn't waste any more time there and left without ordering, although in hindsight doing so and tipping may have gotten him better answers.

He was completely caught off guard when Shego showed up in his lab hours later, startling him with the announcement, "Sorry I'm late. I caught a matinee." It wasn't a particularly heartfelt apology.

There was no reason for those words to wound him, but they struck him nonetheless. It stung he wasn't invited after she'd been pestering him about getting out on Fridays all this time. But he knew if he complained, she'd just shoot him down with something along the lines of, "You wouldn't have gone anyway."

Just thinking about it, he twisted a bolt too carelessly with too much force. The wrench lots its grip and a pop in the face had him instantly too distracted to give Shego a proper greeting or complain about the exclusion. He had a bloody nose to tend to, and her laughter to run away from.