Broken.

It's the only word that comes to mind when she sees his body mangled over the rocks. The vine DNAmy had snapped lay beside him. It was too daring to jump from the height, even more so when he cleverly reached out for the thick green decorating the sides of the waterfall. None of them paid him a second glance, all silently assuming he could take care of himself. But the yelp could be heard even over the roaring of water. Amy standing above, blade in hand. Kim can almost see the excitement on her face, but surely she doesn't know what waits for her at the bottom.

All of them breathless, seeing blood stain Monkey Fist's forehead…his skin dangerously pale. All afraid to approach…to touch…to listen for any breath. Even Ron falls oddly silent, struggling not to celebrate the defeat of a man who has proved too reckless and too dangerous. Kim doesn't spare another moment before asking Wade to deliver a chopper immediately. With the help of Sensei's powers, the man-monkey is moved safely into the helicopter. The conversation quickly becoming argumentative and tense.

Talks of what to do next.

Prison? Hospital?

No answer to which they all could agree. The man was in bad shape- unable to defend himself from the very thing that did this to him. They were certain that no matter where he goes, she would follow.

Perhaps, she thinks, not everywhere.

It turns into another heated discussion. The concept of bringing an enemy, Ron's sworn enemy, into her home? The idea was as ridiculous as it sounded. But it was feasible. Her mother, a renowned surgeon, could easily assist with his injuries. The alarm system in which her father had installed? The man wouldn't stand a chance attempting escape or harm upon anyone living there. And lastly….her.

She was Kim Possible, after all.

And as easy as it was to list those points, it's hard defending them. She manages, only just as they approach the nearest prison facility. Coordinates are changed, and while Sensei and Yori are dropped off, the duo and their new passenger make way to Middleton where her parents await with both excitement and concern.

Her mother prioritizes the man, equipped with close and trusted colleagues who help get him into their home and begin working right away. Kim learns later that while his injuries are serious, no life threatening surgery is needed. Setting his split tibia is the most invasive procedure they find themselves doing, and carefully tending to the lacerations and fractures that can't exactly be helped with anything but care and time.

It's a long evening, and later pushed into night when finally the man is resting in the guest room that is the basement. Still knocked out from the generous dose of drugs, they leave him be. Ron, with much reluctance, had left and even the twins had been tuckered out from the excitement. Leaving just Kim and her parents, tending to coffee in the kitchen and discussing the decision made.

All agreed, it was the right one. For now.

—

The next morning Kim wakes to a disturbance. She'd forgotten all about their guest, alarmed when she realizes where the noise is coming from. Darting downstairs and ready to fight, she sees her father standing over the bed, holding Monkey Fist's shoulders down with visible restraint as to not further injure the man, and her mother on the opposite side sticking a needle into his arm.

"Get your hands off of me! Agh!" Monkey fist growls while fighting the immense pain that screams across his body. His hair twists in all sorts of directions, his eyes wide and teeth bared. The man had just woken up, and to two strangers ready to stick him with something.

"Calm down, Mr. Fiske. This will help with the pain- we didn't mean to startle you."

"Startle me? YOU KIDNAPPED ME! YOU-." His eyes find Kim then, and his alerted expression quickly shifts to anger. "You. What did you do?"

Kim's got him distracted enough for her mother to find a vein and administer the medicine. "Kim saved you. And you should be thankful she did….can't remember the last time I helped a patient who had fallen the length of a waterfall and survived. There….give that a few minutes to kick in." She rises then, her father finally releasing him with a genuine smile.

"Not so bad, right? You like eggs? I'll whip up some breakfast. That shake won't be easy to keep down without some solid food."

Monkey Fist looks amusingly floored by the kindness, his face trying to twist into an emotion he's not quite settled on. Her parents leave, allowing Kim to step forward with a little confidence.

"You have know idea what you've done. Taking me here against my will." The man glares hard, making fists into the blankets covering him waist down. Kim isn't at all surprised by this reaction. His whole thing has always been about power….and now that it's been taken away…

"Helped you, is the correct phrase. The shape you were in after that fall, none of us can confidently say you'd still be alive otherwise."

"That is where you are wrong. I've been in far more concerning predicaments and this is ––– AGH!" The moment he shifts to sit up and claim his strength, it is snatched away from him. The pain nearly paralyzing and to his dismay, humiliating. He bites down hard and growls, finding little comfort as he is forced back into the cushions placed thoughtfully beneath him.

Kim smirks, while not overly pleased with his discomfort, it isn't beneath her to gloat at her decision made upon the chopper. "I think you'll find there isn't much I won't admit to being wrong about, but…in this case? I'll spare you the 'I told you so'."

She reaches over, carefully sliding the glass of thick green juice closer to his bedside. A concoction made from her mother, no doubt, packed with nutrients and tastes not even a dog would enjoy. Still she remains carefully out of distance, as she remembers all too well the reach and latch of those hands.

"Not that I'd ever pin you for being ungrateful," Kim drawls sarcastically, earning a matched dramatic eye roll from the monkey warrior, "But keeping you hidden here? Giving you medical attention and making sure that you're at least comfortable? Yeah, you can thank my parents for that. Maybe don't give them reason to second guess themselves….even if I can easily list out plenty."

"Oh, please. I didn't ask for this. And don't for one second try to convince me it wasn't your bleeding heart that dragged me here. God forbid you walk away feeling …unheroic." Kim's eyes widen at that, feeling the jab of the accusation hit its intended target. There's a sudden urge to fight him on that, to push back and clear the image of her he's muddied in just moments, but she doesn't.

And his eyes watch her….expecting that reaction…almost delightfully so. She wonders if he'll be disappointed as she refuses to hand him over another figurative weapon.

"Maybe you're right. Or… maybe I couldn't stomach the thought of what I'd find left of you during our next meeting. DNAmy is, above all else, a dedicated collector." Kim flashes a cheeky grin, watching Monkey Fist's lips twist into a rather unpleasant frown. She doesn't give him the chance to respond, taking a few steps back before turning and heading to the stairs.

One step up and she's already stopping, turning back with a far more sinister glaze to emerald eyes. Monkey Fist narrows his own, ultimately unprepared for what is to come but expecting it nonetheless.

"Everything you need is in this basement. The moment you even think about stepping outside of it without invitation is the moment you've lost all privilege in my home. And my family…the ones graciously protecting you…are off limits. I'd really rather not throw you back into the hands of your….colleague….but I won't think twice about it if those requirements aren't met." Kim's lips curl slightly, a pressing grin that promises far more than its intent. "Drink up, Lord Fiske."

She can almost hear the thick of his accent deep and bellowing inside of him. Kim quietly admits how good it felt to get out the words without fear of physical retaliation, and not soon after considers how much that sounds like….him.

It doesn't take long for her to shake off the self inflicted comparison, and she heads back to the comfort of her room where she feels anything but. Her mind races, as if she can hear him breathing three floors beneath her. A criminal, and more than that. Him. Cunning, manipulative, dangerous. Wounded.

—

Sleep is never quite found that night, even if a long conversation with Ron aids her in relaxing just enough. Her intent is to be up before her parents, eagerly sitting at the table with coffee brewing nearby- a sight that surprises her mother who begins the chopping of both fruit and vegetable in preparation for their guest's breakfast. Kim insists on joining her to bring it to him, if not to confirm that he is still very much there, she fears her family may fall susceptible to the man.

But her mother refuses. Insists that she eat her own breakfast. That she'd been helping patients all of her life, and this is no exception. Kim wants to protest desperately, but is only left sitting with teeth threatening to puncture her lip as she waits for her mother's return which comes…sooner than expected.

"He's still asleep. Looks like he gave into those pain meds." She's both relieved and surprised at the news. Perhaps more so surprised that the man would allow himself that vulnerability. Then again…she had seen those wounds. The purpling of his skin and blood seeping through bandages. What choice did he have?

Getting through the school day is just as difficult, and time seems to be going by painfully slow. It's almost impossible to focus on her work, her friends, or the new routine she'd be leading. The moment she arrives home a breath of relief is breathed in, but just as soon the tension comes swarming in as it is let out. She doesn't think twice before dropping her bag and heading down into the basement. She's not certain what she thinks she will see but, the sight of the man sitting up with a mouth full of grapes isn't it.

He glances up at her, his chewing slowed. A quiet radio can be heard nearby, but all lights and even the television remain off. Leaving only the sliding glass doors the room's only source of light from the outside.

"Is cheer practice over already?" Monkey Fist greets with an overly sarcastic tone. "How very dreadful. You've now resorted to my presence due to ….boredom? Or ….lack of vigilance?"

Kim sighs, walking further into the room and quietly surveying anything out of place. She finds nothing.

"Try: making sure the evil man monkey living in your basement is behaving."

"Now, Kimberly….is that really how you want to refer to your guest? Impoliteness is not a good look for the role model of girls everywhere." She can hear the smile in his voice, but when she turns to look at him, it's gone. What's left is a tongue cleaning up whatever juices were left on his lips from his treat.

"Right, and I'm going to take style advice from…you." She clicks her tongue and shakes her head, getting just close enough to observe the bandages. Already freshly applied. He grimaces as he leans back into the pillows, his hand resting over his bandaged chest.

"It's merely an observation. It's the most I can do within the confines of this room. I'd happily find an alternative, but everything else is….off limits, as you say."

"Can't be alone with your thoughts? Sounds like progression."

"Acting like you know nothing of the art I live by is just sheer ignorance. I learned to be alone with my thoughts a long time ago. Doesn't mean I can't be bored."

It's clear that her mother has beaten her to the punch here. More medication and food is sitting nearby, along with folded clothes that are surely her father's. She can't help but feel blood boiling at the idea of him being alone with one of her family members. He can't be trusted.

"You practice your art, but live by a violence that doesn't come from it. Time and time again you exercise it against anyone who stands in your way. Don't talk to me about ignorance." Kim retorts sternly, her eyes narrowing over at the man who sighs dramatically.

"Kim Possible. Therapist, hero, or privileged know it all? The list continues to grow."

"Privileged? Laughable coming from you Lord Monty Fiske."

Monkey Fist shifts a hardened gaze towards the girl, his jaw set tight.

"Privilege comes in all shapes and sizes. Some lack that of wealth, while others may lack that of family. Look around you. Your parents…your siblings….they care for you in ways many have never known. Don't you think if everyone had what you had, there would be more cheerleaders running around with fumbling sidekicks? Grow up, Kimberly."

She….doesn't expect that. It has left her stunned, and not because she is wholeheartedly surprised at the reality, but that Monkey First was very much so giving way to his own personal experience. But that waivers quickly, as he won't allow for her to linger on the idea.

"You live with a rocket scientist and a brain surgeon. Surely you've literature stored somewhere in this place. I'll take anything at this point."

Still internally rattled at sharp words, Kim swallows and straightens back up. She won't let him win this easy.

"While I'm not thrilled at the idea of you learning how to work with brains or rockets….I'll consider it."

—

Ron arrives later in the evening, a cast of fear and nerve caping over him even as he stands at the front door. He wasn't thrilled about the decision to help Monkey Fist, and hasn't been able to remain quiet about it. He even refuses to speak a word until they are, in his mind, safe distance away…right at the top of the house in Kim's room where fingers pull at his own hair.

"This is not a good idea, KP. This is Monkey Fist we're talking about! Remember? The guy who is constantly trying to kill us and take over the world with his….monkeys?!"

Kim lets out a long sigh, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of her nose. She wonders if Ron truly doesn't believe that she hasn't constantly been thinking about those very facts. Of course she has. It eats at her with every waking moment.

"Ron, I know. But…we couldn't just leave him there."

"Of course we could have! Kim, he isn't some helpless civilian. The guys is a cockroach. Finds a way out of everything! He would have been fine without us." Kim frowns at that. Ron isn't wrong. Still, she can't deny that leaving him would have been the wrong thing to do.

"Ron…his back is fractured. Leg is in even worse shape…and the rest of him? He's lucky to be alive. Saving him is what separates us from him." She shifts onto her side, watching as Ron paces the room, chewing at nails and fixated on the floor beneath him.

"He gets better, and then what? What happens when this guy can move again? Are we just going to release him to terrorize more people?"

"Ron…of course not. By then we can get him into the hands of the authorities. But as of right now…" She sighs, sitting up and bringing her knees to her chest, "The decision is made. And we just deal with it."

Ron stops and stares at her, the gears turning in his head before he turns his back and heads to the the steps of her loft.

"I'm going down there to set things straight, KP. I'll let him know just where his place is–."

She leaps to stop him, tugging back on his shirt that reels him away from the stairs.

"Ron, pull it together. You really think seeing you is going to keep anything civil? You'll only agitate him, and right now….well…I think we're okay."

"You think, KP? Thinking is what he'll use against you. Thinking is just a distraction for him."

Kim sighs, strangely proud of such a knowledgable and confident thing for Ron to say. She eases her grip and manages a small smile.

"You're right. But…just trust me, okay? Now…can we put on this movie or what?"

He obliges reluctantly, but is quick to lose himself in the moment without pressing the topic further. They watch the movie through, happily snacking on a multitude of things meanwhile. Later, Kim walks Ron downstairs, holding a lingering conversation before seeing him off. She closes the door and feels that wash of heavy air drape over her shoulders. Emerald eyes look left and see their bookcase poking out from behind a wall. Walking over, she considers his request, but doesn't pluck out just anything.

One title does stand out to her, and so she pulls it from the row and makes her way downstairs. Always a tepid trip…uncertainty waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. She's pleasantly surprised to find the man….sleeping. His arm hanging off of the bed while the other rests crooked beside him. The blankets have been shoved off, and the wrinkles of the sheets beneath prove of his earlier discomfort. She notes the warmth of the basement, stopping by the thermostat first to cool it down.

There is no prying her eyes away from the sight of him. Almost…peaceful looking. She finally sees the full extent of his injuries. Skin is hard to come by when everything seems to be wrapped and padded. It kills her to admit the sorrow she feels for him in that moment, but she quickly suppresses the thoughts and and carries on to place the book quietly on the nightstand beside him where an empty glass and plate sit. She takes note that the slices of chicken from their earlier dinner are left untouched.

Letting out a quiet breath through her nose, she picks them up and turns to exit. Only she is found frozen in place when her eyes land on the pair staring up at her. Far too dark to find the color in his eyes, but she can easily see the gloss of his whites. It's a terrifying moment, standing there as if caught red handed. She thinks to speak but nothing comes out. Will he say something first? It's impossible to know, and the moment seems to drag on forever.

But it does end. With the man blinking slowly, before ultimately shutting his eyes and adjusting his limbs the best he can to another painless position. Relief washes over her, and without pause she heads back upstairs to finally breathe. Her heart thuds hard, tightening her chest. The glass and plate are thoroughly washed, disposing of the excess meat.

Another sleepless night ensues.