A/N: Thanks for the reviews on my last chapter. Hope you enjoy this one. Don't get used to daily updates – I will be getting busier in the next few weeks, but will do my best to update as regularly as I can.
Disclaimer: I do not own Kim Possible. It belongs to Disney and its creators. If it was in the show, I don't own it. Any songs mentioned are the property of their respective owners and artists. I am not doing this for compensation, simply for enjoyment and practice.
Claimer: Krista Ruthie Stoppable is my OC. If you want to use her, please ask.
SONGS (*): "Gavi's Song" by Lindsey Stirling
After All This Time
Chapter 2
7:36am, December 13, Middleton, Colorado
Kim and Ron closed the front door behind them. They stood in the silent hallway for few moments, unsure what to do next. Ron set down the duffel bag he was carrying and hung up their coats. When he turned back to Kim, she was staring at the floor.
"Kim?"
Kim shook herself out of her trance and looked up at her husband.
"I'm gonna make us some coffee. We both could use it."
Kim nodded and watched as Ron made his way to the kitchen. His heart was heavy as he scooped coffee grounds into the machine. This is not how it was supposed to be. They should be needing coffee after a night of feeding and soothing their newborn, not one filled with grief and pain. Ron sighed as he filled two mugs with the steaming brew and returned to the living room. Kim was nowhere in sight.
"Kim?" he called. "KP, where are you?" Ron set the mugs down on the coffee table and wandered the hall in search of his wife. After checking the first floor, he made his way up the stairs, a cold feeling sending him towards the last door on the right.
(*)
"Kim?" Ron slowly pushed open the door. Kim stood, arms wrapped around herself, in the middle of a softly lit room. Plush carpeting padded their feet. A rocking chair sat motionless in the corner. Little frames and figurines of animals stood atop a small dresser. The quote "You can do anything" adorned one of the walls. But Kim was not looking at any of these things. She was staring – silently, solemnly – at the wooden crib which sat beneath the room's only window. A Pandaroo sat poised atop a neatly folded light pink blanket.
Ron's lower lip trembled as he went to put an arm around his wife. Kim didn't take her tear-filled eyes off the crib.
"This was supposed to be hers."
"I know."
Silence.
"I wanted to give her the world. I wanted to teach her how to walk, how to talk. I wanted… I wanted so much for her. Not this. Never this."
Silence. Kim turned to her husband, searching his face.
"How is this fair, Ron? We've done so much good, helped so many people. What did we do to deserve this?" Kim choked on the last words as she collapsed into her husband's arms in gut-wrenching sobs. Ron stroked her hair, himself staring at the forever-unoccupied crib.
"I don't know, Kim. I just don't know." The two leaned into each other, sharing in their grief. Their hearts seemed to bleed as they stood in this small, soft room – a nursery that would never be home to the one it was meant for. This room that was supposed to see so much laughter and joy now saw only tears heartbreak.
"I miss our daughter," Kim whispered.
"I miss Krista, too."
XXXXXXXXXX
4:17am, December 13, Cheyenne, Wyoming
Rain poured down the secluded street as a van approached a run-down brick building. The vehicle pulled up to a door in the back alley. As the driver went around to the side of the van, the door to the building opened. Two figures emerged – a man and a woman – and approached the driver, an umbrella raised above their heads.
"Well?" the man asked impatiently.
"Everything went exactly as planned," the driver responded.
"They believed it? We're in the clear?"
"Yes, sir. They're devastated. I'd say they'll be out of hero work for a good while as they grieve."
"Excellent. And the other staff?"
"Unaware, except for Millie. But she's on our side, so she won't be telling anybody. She's the one who called the Code, and I did all the 'lifesaving' work. They don't suspect a thing."
"And the cadaver?"
"Destroyed. The designer was paid off well. He'll keep his mouth shut."
"Very good, Steven." The man pulled a wad of bills out of his jacket pocket and handed them to the driver. "For your troubles."
The driver quickly counted the bills, then turned to open the van's back door. He produced an infant's car seat, which he handed to the woman. The woman shifted a blanket so she could see the newborn sleeping inside. Her eyes sparkled and a smile touched her lips as she looked back to the driver.
"So what will you be doing now? You've worked there for 8 months."
The driver shrugged. "Don't know. But I'm not going back there. Too 'ashamed at being unable to save Team Possible's daughter,' as they'll say."
"Stay in contact. You may be needed again," the man replied.
"Of course, sir. Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. and Mrs. Moore." Dr. Whitman returned to his vehicle and started the ignition, peeling away down the narrow street. Thomas and Andrea Moore went back to their building. As Thomas shook out the umbrella, Andrea lifted the infant from her car seat.
"Krista Ruthie, welcome to the Moore Home for Children."
