At the hospital, Ron found himself seeing details. How the tiles looked, that crack in the ceiling… how the Tweebs were quieter then he'd ever heard them, sitting in a scared huddle. The murmur of the nurses, the cops at the door, keeping (and not too gently) the press from getting in.

"Ronald?" Mr. Possible spoke quietly.

"Yes?"

"Kimmie… is conscious. She's asked to see you, but she isn't very coherent—she's been placed under light sedation."

"I understand…" Ron said, swallowed, trying to get his voice steady, "Is she-"

"Physically, she was beaten, and the doctors are doing some other work…but she's in no danger of dying." He gave a ghostly smile, "Go to her, Ron." Ronald walked down, as Dr. Possible came to her husband. Ron didn't need to hear this.

"The check up came back negative—whatever else happened, he didn't abuse her sexually…that way at least."

"Thank God for small favors."

Inside, Ron approached the bed, with Kim in it, looking lost. Her hair he thought in another one of those ridiculous thoughts, someone had taken a pair of shears to it, hacking chunks out.

"Hey, KP." Ron said softly, as Rufus ran down to curl up against her cheek, making a comforting noise. Kim didn't move and Ron noticed her bandaged hands, mute testimony to the frenzy with which she'd attacked the coffin lid.

"It was so dark." She said, her voice rough from her screaming earlier, but with a detached quality to it from the sedation.

"I…can't do anything." She softly said, and no matter what Ron said, Kim remained silent. Ron didn't say anything else, after a while, and just held one of her hands. She didn't seem to notice him.

Ron waited as the light at the window grew, and then the first rays of sun entered the room. Then (and how were people moving so quietly?), there was a touch at his shoulder.

"Son…you've been here for nearly 20 hours…you need to get some sleep."

"I don't want to go home…" He said, "She'll need me…if I'd" A flash of a dark haired women in his mind, and Ron bit off the words Shego had somehow known he was going to use. "She'll need me. Home's too far away."

"Rabbi Katz loaned us his motor home." His father said. "It's in the parking lot… you'll just be a few seconds away…but you have to rest." Ron got up, Rufus running back up into his pocket and bent down and kissed Kim on the cheek. Her eyes blinked, slowly, but there was no other response.

Ron turned and shambled away, not seeing anything else. His father looked at him, sighed, and placed a gentle hand on Kim's cheek before following his son.

For the next week, Kim barely spoke. The hospital psychologist came and spoke with her, then spoke with her parents. Kim just keep looking up at the ceiling. Her parents, Ron, and Ron's parents stood shifts by her bed. The Tweebs didn't—they were staying with a friend, although they'd visited once or twice, and the experience had been so upsetting that both the hospital psychologist and the parents had agreed that they should not return until there was some change. Rabbi Katz came with Ron, and didn't speak, just sitting by her as Ron told her about the people at school.

The number of cards and flowers grew exponentially. From kings and delivery boys, world famous scientists and barely literate farmers. Josh sent his own letters and flowers, although he was now on the other side of the continent, after his parents' move. On her parents' and psychologists' orders, nobody mentioned the terribly mutilated form, identified as her assailant via DNA testing that had turned up in a park.

Shego Ron thought. Then, for the first time, Kim spoke to him directly.

"Ron?" She asked, her voice still raspy, with little of her normal energy in it.

"Yeah, KP?"

"You've been here…a while."

"Yep!" He said, trying to interject his humor. "I even passed up Bueno Nacho!" She didn't say anything, as Ron stretched out one hand to cover Kim's bandaged hand. She didn't say anything for a moment.

"I… can't stop seeing him. I can't stop remembering now…" She softly said. "He put his hands all over me, but I was so out of it I didn't even remember until now…then he dumped me into the coffin." There was an unearthly calm to her voice. "I think I'm ready to go home." She said. Ron looked over at Rufus, and the mole rat looked back at him. Something was…missing.

Then the parents came charging in and there were hugs and tears, and happy exclamations…and Ron watched, and saw that something was still missing…like a plate of glass covering Kim. Her mother and father noticed it to. Kim looked at them and summoned a smile.

"Don't worry." She said, "I'll work through this." She paused. "I can do anything!" Ron stiffened.

That wasn't what you said, Kim.

The idea of a public celebration was quickly quashed by the parents, and Ron had to agree—Kim wasn't herself, that was plain, and her parents agreed that the house would be the best place for her—as well as allowing her to meet the twins.

She could hear the last of the dirt pattering on the lid of the coffin, before the hateful voice ended, her body still feeling unclean from where his hands had mauled her. She kept thumping at the lid, even though what shreds of sanity she had left knew that no merely human strength would avail her. Then, a new light came to replace the darkness, and Kim looked at her hands. Rotted, tendons and bones showing through, maggots and worms writhing in the long dead flesh-

"AAA!" Kim gasped, shuddering, as she came awake, hearing the TV play. "I'm here, I'm alive, I'm here." She moaned, rocking back and forth. It had been nearly a week since she'd left the hospital…but every night, every night, the nightmare came. She had told her parents that she needed noise and light now, and so the TV played, all the time…but that wasn't the reason. The nightmares still came, the smell of dirt, or sound of a shovel could send her into a blind panic.

But at least her parents couldn't hear her cries now. They were muffled…almost as good as a good layer of- Kim clamped her hand on her mouth, stifling a giggle that threatened to erupt. The last time she had let that get started, she'd ended up hysterical, having to be given a tranquilizer by her mother. Her mom wouldn't give her a sleeping pill though—apparently she was more or less immune to the less powerful versions.

And today, she saw (it being just past 4:00), she'd be going back to school for the first time. Where there were people… Kim shivered. She was afraid to be alone, and afraid to be around so many people. She dressed, early and ate alone, she had to get ready, she had to get back on top of things.

Ron showed up early. Kim was being driven to school, and he'd join wth her and her mother. At the front door, Ron saw Kim sitting in the living room, wearing a baggy, long sleeve shirt, long pants and shoes. Her mother had evidently worked hard, and her hair was… if not like it was, arranged so the nearly bald spots were hidden. Her hands were tucked away in her lap, still bearing a few bandages.

"Hi Ron…you ready?" She said, giving a brief flickering smile.

"Oh yes, the Ronster's ready to go!" He said.

C'mon Kim… laugh. If I have to lose my pants once a day for the rest of my life, I'll do it…just…laugh. She didn't. Kim nodded and got up.

"Mom…we're ready!" She called. Ron looked at her, and wondered if she thought anyone believed that.

At school, Ron was in every one of her classes—even the ones he didn't take, he'd been assigned to "for the duration" by Mr. Barkin. Some of the kids grumbled, but not many, and there were more than a few sympathetic looks…but not as many greetings as Ron had expected.

Kimmie was a lot of people's good luck charm and now it's been dropped in the toilet.

Shego's comment came back to him and he looked around. Ron had always enjoyed being the buffoon, the shadow in Kim's light—but that didn't mean he wasn't perceptive…it wasn't dislike…it was fear. Kim possible, the girl who could do anything, was walking along, flinching whenever a door slammed, wearing clothes to hide herself. If that could happen to her, what about everyone else?

He also heard more than a few unkind comments about him. Why he wasn't there. Kim had always been there for him, but maybe that was a one way street. Ron gritted his teeth and screened it out.

The day went slowly. Kim was forgetful, losing her place in the books, looking around, unable to focus. Once or twice teachers tried to get her involved, but the way she'd start a sentence, and then trail off, looking around confused as if she'd forgotten the end of it, put that idea on hold—and someone was evidently keeping the other teachers appraised because nobody after lunch tried to do that again.

"So, Kim…ready for cheerleading practice?" Tara asked. She and Bonnie had met Kim at lunch. Ron was surprised. Bonnie hadn't been catty at all… if anything she was quiet sitting by Kim…but less unnerved than many others had been.

"Cheerleading practice… yes." Kim said. She nodded, "Right, I need to get back on that." She reached to get a drink and knocked it off the table onto the floor.

"I'll get that." Ron said, carefully ignoring how Kim had to clasp her hands together to stop the trembling. Bonnie and Tara looked at each other and then started in on inconsequential chit-chat.

Finally, the day came to an end—at least the class portion. Ron waited with the others, when Kim showed up, still in her school clothes.

"OK." She said, "I think we…what?" She asked. Tara looked over at the others.

"Kim…your uniform?"

"Oh…right….I…" Kim quivered and seem to go blank for a moment.

"Kim?" Ron was speaking, but oddly, like from the bottom of a well. Kim shuddered.

"I…"

His hands were running over her, slipping under her clothes, violating her while she slurred out attempts at protests, her hands not working her legs buckling. Then he lay her in the padded floor of the coffin, running his hands over her again before pulling out a pair of shears.

"Souvenirs, you understand."

"Kim?" Kim blinked and looked up. Ron was looking at her, and the other cheerleaders were there, white as sheets. She had somehow ended up in a corner, shivering and gasping.

"I didn't let him touch me…I couldn't stop…" She gasped out, they had to understand…

"Shh…" Ron said. "I think we'd better call it a day." He said pulling her up gently.

"No…I can't…" Kim moaned. She closed her eyes, scrubbing them with her hands.

"Bonnie…" She said.

"Yes, Kim?"

"It's yours. The squad…I can't do this." Bonnie flinched.

"Kim, I'll hold the place for you, but don't."

"No, I can't!" Kim said, and turned and ran. Ron took out after her. One of the cheerleaders was on the phone to the office, and Ron heard her urgent, "Mr. Barkin" as he left the room.

"What do I-" Bonnie asked, her queen bee attitude gone, looking strangely vulnerable. Tara glared at her, finding a target for her anger.

"Well, Bonnie." Tara said, bitingly. "Remember, you wanted to be on top instead of Kim…you got your wish." Bonnie didn't say a thing for a moment, then her face crumpled and she threw the pom-poms down on the floor of the gym, before running out, sobbing. Tara blinked, her outburst calming her down.

"Bonnie, wait-that wasn't-BONNIE!" and followed her out. The other cheerleaders looked at each other, and by unspoken agreement, turned and left. Practice was over.

Kim was running through the halls when she hit a wall. A wall named Barkin.

"Possible." He said, "No running!" Unaccountably, the very prosaicness of his statement brought her back, at least a little.

"I'm..I'm sorry." She hiccupped. "I just had…I don't know." Barkin handed her a tissue paper.

"Blow." He directed, as she obediently blew her nose. "I've called your mother, and she'll be picking you and Ron up."

"Ron's…back there, I left him…I'll…"

"Don't worry. He'll find his way to the office…given how often he spends timethere."

Ron was heading to the office, when he found himself blocked by some of the "guards" that liked to pick on him. He was not in the mood.

"Out of my way." He said, shortly.

"ooohhhh…. Ronny's got guts." There were four of them, bigger than Ron. One grinned and looked at the others.

"Especially since his protector isn't up to snuff."

"You shut up about Kim." Ron said, evenly and quietly.

"Or what?" The biggest, a slovenly blonde boy, walked up to Ron. "Beat us up? That's here deal, not yours, Stoppable. Besides, you couldn't even help her…what was the matter, enjoying din-din?" for a moment, Ron's vision grayed out.

Everyone knew that Ron was the geek, the kid who Kim was always helping. It made him a joke. Few considered the fact that the thugs this "joke" distracted, fought and survived against, ranged from ninjas, to cyborg commandoes using any number of genetic or technological enhancement methods. Ron's average opponent would have been the equal of any line infantry soldier or police officer, and the top of the lines could have given any member of the SAS or SEAL's a run for their money.

Unfortunately, the four also lacked the survival skills soldiers have, such as noticing when they are about to step over a line.

Ron's hard driven fist didn't go for a jaw, to break his own fingers, but for the solar plexus. The first bully choked out and fell over. Another one charged, to fall back screaming at a hard edged chop that broke a rib. The third fell howling clutching a knee that now bent the wrong way. It wasn't fair—and it wasn't' anything anyone at school had ever seen Ron do…and if anything shocked the bullies more than the pain, it was the sudden knowledge of just what a predator they'd been poking all those years.

Ron grabbed the last as he gobbled out pleas and brought his fist up. Joking at Kim… Joking at Kim's expense. He slammed his fist forward, aiming for the throat, to smash the cartilage of the windpipe.

"STOPPABLE!" The bellow brought him back to himself for a moment—just long enough to divert the punch so it hit the wall. He let go of the last, letting him sag to the floor, noticing, absently, that two of the four had soiled themselves. Barkin was on the phone.

"Yes, I need an EMT team out here now and get the nurse." He turned to Ron. "Go to the office."

"Mr. B, I-" Ron was shaking with reaction. He'd almost killed someone.

"Go. Now. I'll talk to you later. Kim has gone home with her mother, thank god, and you might want to consider what seeing you go to jail, because of something having to do with her, would do to her." He paused, "And don't try to say it was anything else. I know these…boys." He paused, "Now go."

Later, Ron was sitting in the room, hours after school was over, when the door opened. Barkin entered, and Ron got to his feet.

"Tell me what happened." Ron did, looking over the administrators shoulder.

Barkin frowned, looking at Stoppable. Ron kept his eyes fixed on the wall behind Barkin.

"And that's when you put them in the hospital."

"Yes, Mr. Barkin."

"And will you write an apology?"

"No, Mr. Barkin." Ron said, and Barkin sighed. There was no humor in his eyes, damn Kim's attacker to the deepest hell. His… crime was too minor a word to use, had radiated out, touching, in some small way, everyone Kim had known and some who hadn't known her personally… unfortunately some small minds only saw that as a way to hurt others.

"You understand, that if the police or parents decide to press charges, a lack of remorse may weigh heavily on you?"

"Yes sir."

"All right, Stoppable, you're suspended for three days—to the end of the week, and don't think that this is over, because it may not be, by a long shot. I'll call your parents tonight."

"Mr. B." Barkin looked up.

"Yes?"

"I don't understand…what happened to Kim." Barkin sighed.

"The term is a 'flashback'— Something that happened caused her to remember the events when she was attacked." Barkin shrugged, "It can happen, and be triggered by a lot of things. Some veterans react to the sound of backfires, and some police officers can never taste peppermint candy again—because they used the smell to disguise the stench of particularly bad crime scenes." Ron said nothing, but then had to speak.

"Will Kim recover?" He blinked. Suddenly Principle Barkin looked… older, almost bent.

"I don't know." He said, "Possible has never lost before, and for it to come like this, in such a horrible way…I don't know." He looked up, "Your father is coming to pick you up, so you'd better go."

"Thank you."

"Stoppable."

"Yes sir?"

"I understand the reasoning, and I sympathize to some degree, but if you ever use that kind of combat capability against a student at this school again, I will have you arrested—expelled at the least. I won't have any choice."

Ron nodded and left the room. Steve Barkin thought for a few minutes. If the parents demanded charges be pressed, the physical damage alone would back them up. No matter the provocation, even a blind man could see just how far out of their league the bully's had been—and how easily Stoppable could have defeated them…without doing internal injuries. But he did not want Stoppable in jail…for a variety of reasons, not the least of which that they had deserved it, and the other bullies that students were normally too afraid to report, might get second thoughts about their… entertainment.

Barkin blinked and got a smile on his face. Kim wasn't the only one who had favors coming her way from old friends. . He picked up the phone and called an old wartime buddy. The number he used was one in no phone book, but it was instantly recognized. He waited until the operator got the phone.

"Yes, I'd like to speak to the President. Steve Barkin. Yes, it is about her.. tangentially, at least. Thank you. Yes, I'll wait."

That night.

At home, Kim lay in bed, her legs pulled up to her chest. What could she do? She couldn't live like this, being afraid, she had to do something, she had to… She blinked and stood up, in the nightgown her mother had made her put on when she'd put her to bed. Quietly, so as not to disturb anyone (although her TV still played), she crossed into the main family room, where her mother and father kept their reference books. Pulling a book down from the wall, she ran her finger down a list until she found it.

PSYCHOTROPEN: A combat drug designed by the SOG to maintain high levels of combat effectiveness. Has a suppressing effect on fear and the need for sleep, being indicated for use in short duration, high intensity operations.

That was it. She didn't have to sleep, and she could use that to fight off her fear. She could do it. Then, once she was back on her feet, she could stop taking it. Yes. That was it. She could do it. Kim read the warning, but she could beat this, and the warning would only apply if she took it for too long.

WARNING: This drug is no longer in use by SOG troops. High percentages of mental and physical side effects have been indicated, including paranoia, rages, hallucinations, and in some cases, psychotic breaks.

Kim replaced the book and crept back into her room. She couldn't use Wade for this—he might tell her parents, and Mom hadn't even let her use prescription sleeping pills, much less something like this. It'd be better to surprise them…to make herself well first and then tell.

"I can do it. I can do it." She said, before sleep—and her now nightly nightmares, claimed her.

She looked up at the lid, the lid that blocked out everything except that one light.

"Look at you. Blubbering, crying, probably have snot running down your nose. Good thing I got my touchie feely stuff in earlier. " There was a pause, "You can't do everything…you can't do anything. Just a helpless, mewling brat…That's all you are."

"Please.." Kim whimpered, begging, literally begging, for the first time in her life. "I don't want to die…I'll…" she hiccupped, "I'll do whatever you want."

"Oh, you are that…" The voice said.

Kim erupted from the bed, gasping, again. She gritted her teeth. Just one day, once she got the medication, those dreams would go away…they'd have to.

To be continued.