She should have been furious. As her cloak rustled through the air, coat damp against her skin with her first physical exertion in decades, she knew that now more than ever was the time to scream and spit and stamp her feet in the way she never had before. She'd taken up Drakken's shtick and run with it for the past twenty years, so what was one more? She was pissed. She'd ruled the world. She could do anything.

But she didn't feel like doing any of the above as she plummeted. Possible and her dopey sidekick held fast to some invisible line in the timestream, and she didn't have a choice but to let them. There was blood on her left glove, where she'd managed a last lunge before Kimmy had kicked her off. She surprised herself by not caring.

Because if their crackpot of a 'plan' had worked-and the giant time/space rip in the roof was hard not to notice-everything under the red was going to reset.

She felt sick. She figured it the fall as she swallowed a cloud of kicked up marble dust, sharp and coarse and stinging her chest. But it was more than that and she knew it. Her lips drew into a line, trying to grasp at whatever the hell had ever been elusive to her. But it was like trying to grab at a wasp with her nails and it wriggled from her grip, stinging high and mighty on its way out and then she didn't know if she wanted to know-

Her head hit the ground, skull and clenched teeth rattling. The thought flew out her ears as Kimmy blipped out of existence and everything hurt at once, inside and out. Shego cried out, when, why, she didn't know. It left and then there was nothing in her chest, rising and stilling as she held her breath.

And waited. And waited. And waited.

And abso-lutely nothing happened.

Her face fell as the pain came crashing back.

"Son of a bitch," the Supreme One said, rubbing the back of her head as she made to stand. Something crunched as she rose. Her foot caught on her cloak, and in her shaking rage she lit it up and tore it off, giving it a couple stamps that cracked the concrete under.

She wheeled around, eyes blazing murder bloody murder on the rebels, sloven and slack-jawed ingrates who'd never even tried sitting down and shutting up. They responded much in kind, but she had a fix for that.

"Drakken," she shouted, the roof of her mouth tingling. "Get them!"

Drakken groaned. Not the sound he always made before a scornfully followed order. Not the sound his colleagues envied him for. His groan was raspy, using every bit of his coarse accent, and cut itself off with a coughing fit.

The Supreme One stopped, and turned. The dust cleared just in time to show Drakken up to his pits in rubble-chunks of her stone busts and scraps of her banners scattered across the room in the circular, domino pattern they'd fallen.

Shego's heart clenched. "Fine," she ground out. "Fine. Fine. Everyone clear the rubble and I promise I'll only collar you."

She decided to work out later whether she was lying or not.

When there came no response from her newly elected pit crew, she turned, gloves clenched tight enough the claws broke leather and pricked at her palms. "Well?" she said. "Get to it!"

But they didn't look like they'd be clearing the rubble anytime soon. Actually, they didn't look like they'd be listening anytime soon-not even Killigan and Monkeyfist, whose eyes burned holes into her. And all of a sudden the Doctor didn't seem so high priority.

Possible's siblings, tweedle dum and tweedle dee blinked as if one. "Shouldn't the timeline be back in place by now?"

Wade, towering above and behind them blinked. "It should be," he rumbled, in a voice well past puberty; her head throbbed at the sound of it.

As Monique threw a rifle strap over her shoulder, she blinked too. Bunch a' drones. "Uh, Wade? What's the sitch up in here?"

Wade, for all his size, seemed bashful. "I-I don't know, Monique," he said, grinding one of his feet against the other. "But if I had to take an educated guess? Ron might have screwed the pooch when he broke the time monkey."

Monique sighed. "O lord." Then, blinking rapidly, "Wait. Where are they then? Where's Kim?"

Wade's throat worked, swallowing. "I…I don't know. They could be in another timeline, they could be back in their own, or…"

Monique stared at him. "You're kidding," she said, quavering.

"No way," Tim said, chains clinking as they rose and fell.

"You gotta be kidding me," Jim stared up at the roof, not a tell left that their sister had ever existed. "She's gone?"

The Supreme One stared at them, the huffing and heaving savages that had nearly cost her a world. Hands slack by her side, she stared at people who'd cared and were caring about the cheerleader and her chum. By now they'd either been thrown aside or torn to shreds by the timestream. And they were going to bawl over them? These were the rebels that had raised her Hell? Hah! What a joke!

So why aren't you laughing?

The Supreme One shook her head, pain ringing from all sides. She clung to it like a lifeline as she cleared her throat.

"What a shame," the Supreme One said, feeling in her coat for the remote. A glare at Killigan and Monkeyfist said all it had to. At the sound of her, Possible's posse turned, radiating rage, but the Supreme One didn't miss the wet shine of lost hope in their eyes as Killigan's chassis churned.

"But I don't need that stupid thing to finish you off. Duff, Monty."

There! Her fingers tightened around the frame.

"Get them!" She whipped it out of an inner pocket, straining a sneer as-as-as-

The stupid thing fell apart in her outstretched hand, buttons, glass and dials dropping, thunk, click, clack, to the floor. And she realised, with a touch of panic, that it hadn't been the cape.

Her sneer turned terse. 'Oy.'

The rebel scum stared impassively at her. All except for the mole rat which,, eyes widening, spoke up.

"The Remote is gone!" He cried, in a ridiculously deep, suave voice she would have laughed at on a better day-when the little rat was choking on a collar. "The slaves are free!"

Killigan and Monkeyfist heard-too much to hope they wouldn't. They turned around, eyes wide, mouths an O, both sharpening into points as they stepped forward.

The Supreme One took another step back. "Drakken," she said, calling to the mass of muscle still half-buried under the rubble. Even with everything against her, even without the collars…

Nothing. Killigan and Monkeyfist closed in on her, and she felt herself break into a sweat. Twenty years ago she'd have jumped into stance, hands flaring and now-

Now you ran from the buffoon, she thought. Yikes, the Supreme One really does delegate.

"Drakken?" she called, with ever-increasing urgency. She turned to the rubble. The rubble had been turned over, but he wasn't there.

He was-gone. Vamoosed. A puff of smoke couldn't have driven the point further home.

The Supreme One's brain kicked itself, and then kicked into overdrive. "Hey, fellas," she said, stretching her hands out in a welcome-all gesture. Killigan and Monkeyfist didn't stop.

"May-be we got off on the wrong foot."

For twenty years?

She took a bunch of steps back as she laughed nervously at the thought. It came out brittle and snapped off. "How about a three-way partnership? You, you and me, we could all…split it up."

They still didn't stop. Killigan had a clear shot-Monkeyfist was close enough to pounce. The Supreme One's brain kicked itself again.

"Ye've raised us hell, lassie," and the Supreme One surprised herself by stiffening. In fear. Of the stupid, simpering shell of a Scot turned golf-kart. "Be only fair we paid you back."

"For once, Killigan," Monkeyfist said, eyes darkening, "I concur." And he pounced up high, hands and feet curled her way as Killigan ejected a glowing, golf-shaped grenade down under.

"Eep," the Supreme One squeaked, before turning a hundred and eighty. And running. Her legs pumped back and forth, carrying her as far away from the palace's centre as possible. Possible! She could have screamed it. This was all her fault, she thought as she stopped at the head of the stairs. Why couldn't she have just stayed well the hell away-

Monkeyfist's nails cut into her thoughts, dragging down her back. The Supreme One screamed as she fell, blindly flinging a flame back as all her thoughts concentrated on the right now. Tumbling down the stairs, she caught the upside-down sight of a jumping, gibbering ape, clutching at burning fur that reached her nostrils.

The Supreme One's nose twitched as her hands shot out and grabbed a step, tendons screaming at the lurch stop. She winced through her teeth, about to put a hand to her back before she heard, then saw Killigan come to a stop at the top, chuting a golf ball that hit the curve behind her.

Eyes widening, the Supreme One bolted down the curve and grabbed the plastic ball mid-air, throwing it over her shoulder before she bolted down the steps.

She was well within the range of the blast by the time she heard Killigan's timer tick. Throwing herself forward, she felt the blast propel her further, slamming her against the glass just as it shattered, glass shards careening to the ground and exposing the green skyline. The Supreme One's hands broke into a sweat made unbearable by her gloves. The foundations of her palace were exploding in a puff of flames, smoke whisking past her into the open air; and for a brief, manic moment, she thought of the crowds below, watching empire die, crying-

Crock, crock, crock. They were cheering and she knew it.

Throwing her arms out, she propelled herself back as her heart beat madly at her chest, threatening to tip her over. She kept flapping her arms until her back was to the wall.

Crouching against the wall, she patted down the fire clinging to her hips and ankles. She paused to eyeball the way back. Blocked. Hers was clear, further down the stairs, and in the tinted sunlight lit up green like an old emergency exit. It led straight out of the palace grounds.

The Supreme One swallowed a scream as she followed the lights, running past what was left of the engraved glass, shards of her face staring back at her. Her lungs burned like she knew they never had before-not once twenty years ago, when she'd kept herself ready for every eventuality (even the stupid ones, she thought) (fondly), and not once since.

I'm going to kill them, she thought, letting her thoughts wander. She'd be expressing them soon enough. Her thoughts fell to the first place she could draw back and attack-the countless checkpoints littering the long roads.

Despite its tight space in a miasma of rage, red and bitter and choking, a part of her spoke up. 'Ah yes, the toll trolls. Because the locals won't be tearing them to shreds when they hear you've been knocked off your high horse.'

The Supreme One snarled, who or what at she didn't know. She stopped ten stairs from the shaking ground floor, eyed the green rug as if there might be a rake under, and jumped anyway. 'When I find Doctor D-'

The Supreme One felt it before she saw it-a blue blur that barrelled straight into her, sending her sprawling mid-air. Her head hit stone for the second time today, and this time around it sang a high note. As she slumped, the back of her tongue tasted blood, the Supreme One forced herself to look up. Drakken floated in doubles, then triples, then quadruples, gliding effortlessly through the air as if the powers of duplication and flight had just now occurred to him.

She was reeling, she knew that. But in spite of that, the Supreme One didn't miss the roil in his eyes; the ramrod straight back; the hands twitching and turned her way, one sprained horribly wrong but seemingly unaware of it. She stared up at him, struggling to breathe against the warm waves of heat coming from his straining form, and shuddered.

'Oh, that Doctor D?'

Shego.

No, not Shego. The Supreme One.

Hrmm. That makes it worse.

He could do that-split Shego and the Supreme One in two, but he couldn't resolve to destroy only one of them. Because Shego was the Supreme One, so, so, so-what the devil was he asking of himself?

The Supreme One (Shego) stirred, twitching, a head of hair blacker than the namesake berries convulsing with her, and Drakken thrashed out the urge to fall by her side.

Sweat simmered on his intolerably warm muscles, some of it new. He'd struck Shego. He could tell her and himself it had been an accident but sitting on the side of that staircase, tearing the collar to pieces between his hands pointed to purpose.

"Doctor D?" he heard the Supreme One say, faint and so un-Shego like that he was suddenly very, very scared (for her) of her. On his arm a red, vaguely Supreme One-shaped archipelago glowed, but the pain was far away and he couldn't imagine caring.

"Yes," he said, instinctively, before he could bite it back. His mouth was hot and dry and churning out more saliva than he knew what to do with.

"Doctor D," she said again, then paused. Back to the wall, one of her shaking arms flush from claw marks (bleeding, oh egads, is she okay?) as it held to the wall, she stood up. "It's me, you complete idiot."

An old-new temper flared up. "I am not an idiot," he (cried) declared.

"Oh, you're not?" the Supreme One spat. "My bad, my bad. It's not like your stupid blab's what got us here in the first place!"

Drakken's shoulders rose and fell, rose and fell. The idiot was guilty and he knew it-

"I thought the timeline was going to reset." His shoulders fell. He huffed the words like they'd be his last.

May-be.

"What?"

"I said, I thought the timeline was going to reset!" Drakken exploded. "I thought, if I could just give them a moment-if they could just get to the Time Monkey-then maybe-maybe," Drakken wiped the spit from his lips. "Maybe I wouldn't be like this, maybe Killigan would be fine, you would be fine-I…"

"I thought everything was going to fix itself." He wiped at his face again, scrubbing around the eyes with his unbroken hand. Staring at her with strained, bloodshot eyes he hoped very much that she'd understand.

The Supreme One stared at him, unblinking, uncomprehending the moment before the ceiling shook, sending dust plummeting down.

Then, "you did this on purpose?"

Drakken drooped. No, she wouldn't. His shoulders shot up as he let loose a deafening torrent of complete nonsense. "You just said that," he snarled, teeth so tightly packed she was suddenly afraid he'd chip them.

"Everything you've done, and you just said that."

The Supreme One stamped at the floor, snapping a tile. "No. You do not get to blame me for everything."

"Why not?" his hands curled into fists. "This is all you. I don't know who else could possibly be spade-goaded!"

"Scapegoated," she said, sneering.

"Whatever!" He threw his hands up, wincing as the broken one flailed by the wrist. Part of her, the part long under wraps cringed.

"You're a traitor," she said, jabbing a finger his way.

"And you're not Shego."

She flinched, a shock running to and through her bones.

Your name, came the thought out of black, your name your name your name-

Anger clanged viciously in her chest. Yeah. Her name.

The staircase caved beside him, sending plumes that stung Drakken's eyes. He didn't care as he watched her thrust a hand through her coat, searching for the-for the remote.

The thing that stings and hurts and smokes and-

His head and heart smashed a thousand brass cymbals together, frozen stiff as her hand swept through her inner pockets like a lump. It was five seconds before she stopped, brow stilling, then twitching. And Drakken knew something was off.

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that," she said coolly, hand falling slack aside.

He licked marble dust from his painfully dry lips. "Say what? She-go?"

He could tear her teeth grinding from here. "Mmhm. That."

"Why not? Shego, why not?"

She felt the raw, ticklish urge to scream again. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Drakken sniffed. "I don't think you'll kill me."

Epitome of a safe bluff. She stopped a snort short.

"And I don't think you have the remote either." His voice went one way, then the other.

The Supreme One swallowed. "Does it matter?"

This, she tried to telecommunicate, is a thrown bone.

His shoulders rose and fell, rose and fell. He didn't answer and she could only hope-she could only think he'd take it. If he knew what was good for him. And her.

Drakken didn't let himself think through the implications of charging his (slaver) (traitor) (friend) with his teeth bared. There was blood in his brain, straining even as it shut off, and he knew he must have looked every part a mad dog to her. Eyes widening, both hands outstretched in the style of a stop! sign, she shouted something whisked away by the wind in his ears.

She threw herself aside just as his shoulder careened into the newly-cleaned wall, cracking it as the damp shards dug into his skin. He huffed-it hurt!-but didn't cry.

Don't. Her voice rang in his head. She'd squatted down and said it to him, hugging her cape to her. They'd been two years in. Don't cry. Come on. You think the rebels'll stop themselves for you?

The Supreme One scrambled to her feet. "Doctor D, what are you doing?"

I don't know, he tried to scream. And nearly choked on his own spit. I don't know and I don't want to anymore.

The Supreme One sidestepped his swipe, and blinded as he was by momentum, he could've sworn to seeing those green eyes and face scrunching up, on the verge of (tears? Never) nothing he cared for.

This? came the Supreme One's staircase conscience. This is all you.

"Doc," she said, breathless, "it's the roids! They're getting to your head-get it together-"

Drakken shot a hand out, wrapping the whole thing around her throat. The words (what? What could you possibly say?) tapered off as she gasped, gloves clawing at his hand. He slammed the Supreme One to the ground, her head thrown back and forth like a bobble as her grip slackened. The Supreme One's pupils contracted then shrunk then contracted again. His mind unhelpfully supplied the symptoms of concussion. That was the intention, he screamed back at it. And still his mind yipped and yelped like a terrified terrier, what are you doing what are you DOING it's SHEGO!

Shego's ears rang as she felt the clamps around her neck tighten, and tighten, and tighten until his thumbs were against her fast-bobbing apple.

What the heck? What the hell? Even as Drakken snarled and shook and shook her and stared her dead in the eyes she couldn't quite draw the line between points A and B. How had they gotten here?

Oh, please don't play dumb, came that voice again, snipping and unbidden. Second hand embarrassment's a thing, you know.

Drakken raised his other hand, ignoring the hurt in it and squeezed, squeezed like if he tried hard enough, he could wring the Shego out of the Supreme One. And if by chance he could (please, please, please!) she'd pop out reeling, and have nothing to do with the Supreme One. And if by chance he couldn't, he hoped he could be so quick it wouldn't hurt at all, not very much.

The whole strangulation shtick's a waste of your time and theirs, instructional Supreme One supplied. He couldn't remember if she'd ever actually said it. Just make the motions-like this-she jerked her hands suddenly in the air-and you'll both be better off for it.

His hands grew clammy-er than they were already. Yes. Yes, he could-he could do that.

"Drakken, stop," she managed before his squeeze cut it off. Her brain blared in warning, hands splayed against his arms, legs kicking at the air as the hands on her throat tightened and tightened and tightened.

Shego lit up, not caring to gauge herself, and dragged her gloves along his free arm.

Drakken huffed, and puffed, and his face turned peachy with the pain as the blood stuck to his fingers but he didn't let go. Mother had raised no quitter, and (mother would hate you if she knew) he was doing what had to be done!

The Supreme One clawed for breath for she-had-no-idea-how-long before her hands began to slump against his arm. She felt Drakken giving her a shake, her arms falling off like flies-and for a terrified second she thought he was going to snap her neck-but it never happened. After a few seconds his hands felt more like a dull, distant throb, his sweat ointment around the site. If she closed her eyes, she bet, it'd almost be like the Doc was giving her a shakedown by the shoulders, like hey! Are you dying on me, Shego? I'd-I'd rather you didn't!

She closed her eyes.

He made the motions, he pulled back and then his hands slacked. Why? his thrumming head screamed. Why did you do that?

Drakken stared into those shiny eyes, shrinking and spinning and so terribly confused, closed now but still burning in his sight, and he knew full well why he'd done it. And why he couldn't-quite-do that.

Maybe if she'd been the Supreme One all along, biting and cloying, he'd do it different, but she hadn't, and he couldn't.

Drakken let her go. She fell on her side, a terrible wheezing sound escaping her as her hands flew to her throat. The skin round which he'd (squeezed) was shades of olive and red. The Supreme One gasped, and gasped, and gasped again and kept at it, seizing as much air as she could as she felt along her inflamed throat, flinching at her own insistent touch.

She stared at the shiny floor, one hand feeling at the solid surface as she watched her reflection shaking, stealing at the air, and repeat. It might have been one minute or five before she looked up, a sharp pain rocketing up and down her throat like she'd swallowed glass as she stared at Drakken. He stood there, motionless like she'd never known him, shoulders slumped forward as he stared at his own hands. The knuckles were white and the blood had crusted under his nails and the eyes staring at it couldn't decide which was worse, dancing between the two spots before, hands falling, he noticed her.

"You're still here?" he said, voice a stiff lilt.

She drew back. Part of her wanted very much to say something-but one look at that blank face, and she knew the words would have been wasted. And what was there to say?

I'm sorry?

Her better half offered something helpful for once, but the words caught in her throat. She wasn't stupid enough to think that'd change a thing.

And if it wouldn't change a thing, and if it wouldn't matter if she meant it-

Drakken watched her inch back, step by step, her face cringing as she swallowed. Her lips twitched like she wanted to say something, but she never did. She glanced behind her to the exit, green sky and all, then back at him. Shego let loose a sigh that shook the both of them to the bone.

Drakken blinked, and in the beat his eyelids were back up she was gone. He could only assume she'd rounded the corner to freedom-or whatever closest equivalent she could get her hands on, after everything.

Good (god, please don't go I need you) riddance.

Inspired by The Ones That Never Happened Chapter 3: Symbiosis by Ninnik Nishukan, and by Work in Progress: Study of an Evil Genius Chapter 13: No Time, Assorted Ficlets Chapter 52: Side Effects, 53 Things I Learned in my Career as a Supervillain Chapters 16-18 and practically everything by Purplegirl761 respectively. Much love, if you haven't already check them out!