All-Purpose Disclaimer

Kim Possible is my puppet. Dance, puppet, dance!

Kim Possible

The Power of Trust

by Cyberwraith Nine

Kim's blissful self-delusion lasted a wonderful eighty-three seconds.

The first thirty treated her well. She awoke in her bed, hiding from the morning chill beneath a mountain of blankets. Sunlight filtered in around her shade, shimmering in the air as her eyes fluttered open. For that half minute, she stared at the cracks in the ceiling, letting her senses come to life. The tiny aches all throughout her lithe frame dredged up memories of the previous day's mission, and invariably, of their guest.

Never one to dawdle, Kim tossed aside the covers and braved the cold long enough to find a pair of sweat pants. All the while, her mind began putting itself in order as her body did the same on autopilot. She brushed her hair back behind her ears. She tried not to think of Yori. She twisted the long locks into a ponytail. She prayed it had all been a weird and very vivid dream.

Fifty seconds after she left her bed, Kim had almost convinced herself that this 'Yori' was nothing more than a figment of her imagination. All of the angst her non-crush on Ron generated had somehow created an imaginary girl to screw with her mind. Or perhaps the stress had finally gotten to her. Christmas was little more than a week away, and the ever-mindful, ambiguous 'they' always claimed that stress was at its highest around the holidays. As if she didn't have enough of the stuff in her day-to-day life. Add it all up, and it didn't paint a pretty picture for her psyche. But it did make her fabrication theory hold up better.

In the first half of the eighty-first second, Kim felt safe and comfortable, wrapped inside the explanation her groggy mind had constructed. It seemed invincible, until two different laughs ghosted through her cheap wooden door. One was familiar, and the other was decidedly feminine.

Her door slammed open in the wake of second number eighty-two. Now the sources of that laughter revealed themselves, sitting opposite each other at the counter and sharing a breakfast that wafted even now into Kim's nose. But no smell, no matter how delicious (and it certainly was), could ease the pain as her hastily crafted fantasy shattered at the sight of the stunning girl sipping cider from Kim's favorite mug.

Yes, that eighty-third second really stung.

"Good morning, Kimberly-san." Yori greeted her with a raise of the hearts-and-polka dots mug. She was dressed in Ron's bathrobe, and somehow sat perfectly poised and coifed at the ungodly hour, showing just enough skin to be unbelievably sexy without appearing slutty. "Do you wish to join us for breakfast?" Her tone was warm and inviting as she pulled the stool next to her from under the counter. God, what a bitch.

Kim slid the strap of her frumpy tank top back onto her shoulder and cursed whatever dark gods that gave Yori her power to be so alluring so early. What she really wanted to do was to retreat into her room and primp and pluck until she looked just as good. Or until Yori left altogether. Or better still, she could rush to the Kimmunicator and order Wade to start calling in favors until Yori was 'taken care of'. But instead, she put on her best smile as she stumbled across the room and straddled the seat.

Gentle, kindhearted Ron took Kim's squinty glare as simple morning grump. As such, he did the last thing Kim wanted, and tried to bring her spirits up with his own special brand of Ron-shine. "Mornin', KP!" he beamed. Before she even settled on the stool, a warm mug (but not 'her' mug) of cider clattered to a halt in front of her while Ron assumed his post at the stove. The Breakfast Samurai awaits your orders. What'll you have?"

Her mouth began to water at the thought of Ron's morning meal mastery, until she saw the remains littering the plate next to her, with Yori's satisfied smile hovering over them. She suddenly had no appetite, and said as much. The look of disappointment crossing Ron's features cracked her bitter heart as he shut the range down, making her regret the prideful mistake. But instead of apologizing, she sipped at the cider, which was quite good, and therefore hopefully not of Yori's engineering. "What's the sitch?" she mumbled into her mug.

Yori and Ron shared a smile before she said, "Ron-sand was regaling me with stories of your past adventures." She tilted her head to the side as her grin grew. "Is it true the grapple gun always tore away his clothes?"

"Ah, the grapple gun," Ron said with mock-venom and shaking fist. "My one true foe."

Yori's giggle was like poison to Kim, and worse still was the thought of her imagining Ron in the buff. Kim abandoned her stool with a forced smile and laugh, and stalked over to the window. The curtains parted for her, allowing a dazzling river of light to seep into the dark room. New fallen snow blanketed the streets of their neighborhood, and continued to fall from the carpet of clouds overhead. The sight stole Kim's breath away, and melted some of the ice she had gathered on her shoulder for Yori's sake. "Oh," she gasped, "It's beautiful!"

"Neat!" Ron was behind her in a flash, clasping her shoulders and leaning his head against hers to see better. She could feel him tremble with a child's delight that cut straight through her petulant mood and turned it into a tiny smile. "We should go play!" With his glance back at Yori, Kim felt the joy draining out of his body. "Oh, but Yori doesn't have anything to wear in the snow."

The coy smile crossing Yori's features sent a cold chill down Kim' spine. "Do not trouble yourself. Buddha provides."

Ron's mouth opened to form the obvious question, but his maw was cut short by a smart rapping on the door. The roommates exchanged curious glances before Ron went and opened the door. His Uncle Don stood on the other side, mopping his brow and wheezing. "Ronald! How's my favorite indolent nephew?"

"Still lazy. How's my favorite penny-pinching uncle?"

"Still a tightwad." Both Stoppables smiled as their little ritual came to a close. They swapped brief hugs before Don invited himself in. "So, I trust everything is fine with my favorite tenants on this glorious morning?"

Ron regarded his relation carefully. "Something's wrong, KP. Unc's chipper."

"Probably means he's raising the rent," Kim snickered.

"Ah, not so, Kimberly. Not this month, anyway." His arms encompassed the smallish apartment in a joyous gesture. "I'm simply filled with Christmas spirit."

"I'm a little fuzzy on the whole religion thing," Ron said with a scratch of his corn blond hair, "But weren't you Jewish yesterday?"

"Still am, m'boy, still am. But my broker isn't, and neither are the millions of people buying gifts from all the little conglomerates he put my money into." Don's smile threatened to crack his sun-leathered demeanor. "At this rate, I'll be able to retire in three or four Christmases."

"God bless us, everyone," Kim said with a wry twist. "Did you come up to broadcast this yuletide splendor?"

"No. Seems we got a package for someone at this address. A Miss..." At last, Uncle Don's shifty eyes came to rest on Yori. One of his eyebrows rose slowly as he finished, "Akamatsu."

Yori bowed. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister Stoppable. I hope my belongings have not been a bother." If she was at all embarrassed at meeting Uncle Don in her bathrobe, it did not show. Nevertheless, she kept her bow shallow and short to preserve at least some respectability in the elder Stoppable's eyes.

Don's suspicion was acute, but short-lived. "New tenant?" he asked Ron.

"No, Unc." Ron tried to be reassuring has he nipped this potential problem in the bud. He loved his uncle dearly, but the man was a businessman first, last, and several times between. It took a careful hand to keep the family man within him above the surface. "Yori's just a guest."

That seemed to satisfy him. "Well," Uncle Don said with a substantially improved tone, "In that case, welcome aboard!" He took Yori's hand and pumped, adding, "You're welcome to stay here for a long as you like, provided it's no more than fifteen consecutive or twenty non-consecutive days within any given quarter-"

"Unc!" Ron was mortified. He suggested through his teeth, "Maybe Yori would like her things now."

"If Ron-san would be willing to assist me..."

Yori never got a chance to finish. "Nonsense!" bellowed Uncle Don, "No lady's going to hoist her things up and down stairs as long as there's a gentleman still breathing in my building. Come on, Ron."

Ron's halfhearted protests that he was, in fact, not a gentleman died in his throat as his uncle clamped down on his wrist and yanked him through the door. With the men gone, only Yori and Kim were left to drown in the uncomfortable silence. A cough here, a subtle shift of the body there, did little to ease the tension.

"So..." Kim could no longer bottle up her renewed suspicion. "You knew where to forward your stuff?"

"Ron-san's letters provided an address," Yori explained.

Kim grunted. "Awful quick courier service you've got there." Yori said nothing at this.

Groaning and heaving shredded their terse quiet as the Stoppable men heralded their return, lugging an enormous crate between them. The parcel barely fit through as they squeezed into the apartment. Ron's trembling arms set it down as gently as they could, opting to release the load before his red-faced uncle suffered a heart attack. The crate wobbled for an instant until its incredible weight settled.

"You don't...travel light...do you?" Ron said between lungfuls.

As Uncle Don produced a crowbar, Yori admonished Ron with a clucking of her tongue. "A lady has certain needs, Ron-san."

Don heaved back, tearing the side panel off of Yori's crate. As the plywood board toppled over, everyone except Yori found themselves struck with astonishment. Inside the crate stood the most elegant armoire any of them had ever seen. It had been lacquered in glossy obsidian, with ornate patterns of gold laid in the doors. Mystical creatures adorned its carved panels, snarling at those who would threaten the contents of the armoire they defended.

Even Kim couldn't contain her adoration. "It's gorgeous," she breathed.

Yori opened the doors. Inside, a broad sweep of clothes for every occasion greeted her exactly as she left them. She reached in and selected a midnight blue parka with scarf and earmuffs pinned along. "This should do," she said. Then she turned to Ron with a frighteningly close approximation of the puppy-dog pout. "Perhaps you could assist me in relocating this to a more convenient location?"

No matter the source, the pout always melted Ron without effort. "Only after we've had a bon-diggity tour of the area!"

"Ron-san," Yori admonished him gently, "Perhaps it would be best if we did not lose focus of our mission."

It was only when they looked expectantly at her that Kim realized they were waiting for her permission, which she couldn't legitimately withhold. "I talked to Wade last night after you two disappeared." She waited a moment for either one of them to blush or stammer a denial. Neither did, which only made her feel worse. "He's making a few calls right now, trying to get invites to the club. With a little luck, we'll be good to go by tonight."

"And until then," Ron exclaimed, "Let's have us a snowdown!" Everyone in the room blinked at him in confusion. "Y'know...like a hoedown, but with snow. A snowdo-never mind."

Yori folded the parka across her arm with a smirk. "I shall gladly accompany you, Ron-san, if only you will cease making up words."

"Done. You in, KP?"

Whatever ill will Ron had held for her the previous night was gone. A hopeful excitement had taken its place, one that Kim could hardly fight. But fight it she did; it took only one look and a fraction of her brainpower to realize the outing would be two-against-one. She didn't trust Yori, and she hadn't given up the good fight by any means, but every good general knew when to withdraw.

"You two go on ahead," Kim said. "I've got some holiday shopping to catch up on." 'And some reinforcements to rally," she added.

ELSEWHERE

"The Idol of Simor." The dark figure's voice rasped in awe of the fragile statuette held aloft in gloved hands. The jade in its paws glimmered in candlelight, sending shimmers of green dancing across its yellowed stone. "One of a kind," the figure added in jest as the Idol was set next to its twin.

The empty warehouse echoed with the hooting laughter of a dozen monkeys. They circled around the idols, leaping up and down in frenzy at the reverent carvings. Each monkey wore a simple black gi, with cloaks to hide their monkey-sized weapons in matching color. Trained for stealth and discretion, they now kicked up a commotion that could wake the dead, or worse, give their lair away.

"Enough." The command was soft, but unwavering. Silence came at once as the half-pint ninjas fell silent.

Though more comfortable than their Himalayan cave, the warehouse they had obtained upon their return to Japan featured far less privacy. It was in a forgotten corner of Tokyo's expanding commercial district, currently between owners and rarely checked upon. The locale was hardly perfect, but it would do for the moment. All they needed was quiet and solitude.

The figure knelt before the twin idols as the monkey ninjas formed a proper circle and joined hands. While the primates remained silent, the figure began chanting softly, and releasing a steady stream of ki into their newest acquisition. The process was no longer unfamiliar, and the first idol encouraged its brother to awaken. What had taken hours before would be only minutes this time around.

'Soon,' the figure thought. 'Very soon, I will no longer have to hide. Then, all the pretenders in the world will be powerless to stop me.'

AND SPEAKING OF PRETENDERS...

"I'm coming, Yori!"

"No, not yet," Yori pleaded breathlessly, "Just a little longer!"

There was no stopping him now. "Too late. I'm coming!"

With a frantic scream, Ron charged across the snowy field that now composed Middleton Park with frosty weapons clutched in his raw red hands. Sprinting was out of the question in his cumbersome boots, but once he built up some momentum, he was unstoppable. Yori's waist-high wall of snow was a decent defense against any normal attack, especially with a mighty, naked oak guarding its rear, but his was no ordinary attack. He was Ron Stoppable, and there wasn't an ordinary bone in his body.

The lack of counterattack worried him a little, but he didn't have time to rethink his strategy. As her fort loomed close, Ron launched himself into a spiraling arc that took him clear over the wall. Upside-down, he cocked his arm back and let fly a mighty snowball and another yell. His snowball impacted against the inside of the unoccupied fort as gravity reclaimed him. He touched down on the slick ground and fell on his stomach, sinking into the snow as he stared at the twisted remains of his attack. "What the..."

As he picked himself up and dusted himself off to start all over again, a heavy, cold blow struck him in the back of the head. Reeling, he turned around and received three more in the chest.

Yori leaned against another tree a few feet away. She tossed a snowball between her gloves and shook her head. "You are dead, Ron-kun."

Ron dug the snow out of his hat. "Couldn't have died at prettier hands. 'Course, I was hoping to last a little longer."

She allowed the rest of her ammo to fall to the ground unspent, and brushed her hair back behind oversized earmuffs. "There is no shame in defeat at the hands of a worthy foe," she reminded him.

"Oh, I know that. But I'm not defeated. Just dead." She gave him a quizzical look, and he smiled. "Death from above."

Yori foolishly looked up in time to catch an enormous glob of snow right in the face. Blinded, she could feel a pair of cold, tiny paws drop to her head and cling to her hair. Their owner squeaked a victorious laugh before leaping into Ron's waiting palm.

"You see," Ron continued in a somber voice that clashed with his grin, "I knew you'd outsmart me. You always do. So this time, I planned for it."

Her hands swept the last of the snow from her face, leaving behind wet features that glowed with a mix of admiration and ire. "You sacrificed yourself so that Rufus-san could..."

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few," he lectured her, "Or the one."

"Aristotle? Goethe?" she guessed.

"Spock."

"Oh." She considered the words carefully. "He seems a very wise philosopher." A devious grin crept over her thoughtful expression, and she added, "But in battle, I have always favored surprise over philosophy!"

With that, she speared him at the waist in a flying leap. Rufus barely had time to eject as the two teens tumbled in the snow, laughing and wrestling and tickling and playing. They crossed the open field of the park as one.

At last, they rolled to a stop. Yori lay atop Ron, her face barely apart from his. Their laughter grew still as they stared at one another, breathless and red faced. Yori's lips pursed as she closed the gap between them. But she tasted only cheek as Ron turned away at the last second.

"I'm sorry," he said. Yori's heart plummeted as she saw honest shame twist his freckled face.

She pulled away with curiosity, not hurt. "Kimberly-san inspires this much loyalty in you?"

Ron got up as she crawled off him. A nest of snow was an odd place for a heart-to-heart, but putting off the talk any longer would only make it hurt more. "It isn't so much that," he explained, "It's just...Kim's got a big piece of my heart. I've been in love with her since...well, since before I even noticed boys and girls were different." His thumb traced along her chin as he said, "I would never make something with you if I knew I couldn't put a hundred percent behind it. You deserve so much more than that. More than-"

Yori stiffened. "Do not presume to know what I do and do not deserve, Ron-san." Her voice became deadly as she said, "And do not ever question my choice. I have not offered you my heart out of pity, or of ignorance, and I will not allow you to cheapen the gesture with platitudes."

Ron dropped his hand and pulled away. "Sorry," he squeaked, "I didn't-"

She sighed, and placed a hand on his leg to stop his retreat. "No," she said, "I am sorry. I just become so..." She grasped for words in the still frosty air, but none would come so easily. "I cannot understand this spell she has placed you under."

"To be fair, you don't exactly bring out the best in her." The comment returned a portion of Yori's smile. "You just need to give her time. You're both a lot alike."

"If only there were time," she lamented. "After the mission..."

Ron mirrored her sudden gloom. "Back to Yamanouchi, huh?"

"It is where I belong." After some hesitation, she added, "And, perhaps, it is where you belong as well."

"Well, I-juhah?"

The can of worms was already open, so Yori plunged ahead. Taking a deep breath, she began, "Sensei wished me to speak with you about your future. Your destiny." Ron was clearly caught off-guard, and so she took advantage of his silence, speaking in hurried breaths. "He feels that your potential will not be realized without proper guidance. It is his wish that you return with me to Yamanouchi and train as its champion...to become its headmaster."

Ron could not believe his ears. "Sensei wants me to take over the school." He paused, and added, "Me. He remembers me, right?"

Her smile grew a little more, just as he intended. "Yes."

Joking aside, Ron's head swam with the news. Yamanouchi was the last refuge (so far as he knew) of the ninja. The school represented centuries of tradition, and meant everything to the dear friend sitting before him. Such an honor rose beyond compare, but came with a lifetime commitment. "I don't know, Yori. That's one hell of a bomb to drop on me."

"You would be richly rewarded," Yori said quietly, "Were you to accept."

If possible, Ron was shocked even further. "So now bribery's involved? What, like I wouldn't take the job if there wasn't a paycheck included?" He felt deeply hurt. Sensei should have known him better than that.

The rosy color in Yori's cheeks spread forth to fill the rest of her face. "Not money," she said in a whisper. "The school offers you a bride in exchange for your acceptance."

"What?!" He tore the hat from his head, exposing a shock of unruly straw to the elements as he threw the garment to the ground in a rage. "Unbelievable! Who did they corner into this? Ami? Naru?"

"No, they-Why did they come to mind first?" snapped Yori.

"Well, then who is it?" Ron watched her deflate into the snow, blazing bright enough to melt the ground bare. The temperature in his innards plummeted as her averted eyes burned with embarrassment. "No. No, no, no, no no no nonononono! No!" His voice echoed across the park. Snow flew from his feet as he stormed in a circle around her, hands flying and mouth flapping. "Yori, how could you let Sensei force you into something like this? You never-"

Yori ascended in a swirl of white and wrath. She grabbed the lapels of Ron's parka to stop his rant, and pulled him close. "I asked Sensei for this, Chosen One!" She looked close to tears as she said, "Were he to deny me, I would have begged him for such an honor!"

"Honor...Bride..." Ron could not figure just how their merry jaunt had suddenly turned out so screwed up. "Yori, are you even listening to yourself?"

"I am. Are you?"

Ron sweated under the challenge. "You can't just force people to...in America-"

"Your culture," she reminded him, "Is not my culture." She released him and turned away, unable to look at him any longer. Clearly, she had failed in her mission to convince his return to Yamanouchi, a grave dishonor that would haunt her until death mercifully ended her suffering. But worse still was that he had outright rejected her. The steady ache in her chest tripled, and the tears she had been holding back began to break through. "You do not love me."

"I-"

"But do not lie to me. You and I, we have a bond. We share something that you and Kimberly-san never will." She sniffled, suddenly feeling very much like a child. A choking laugh burst from her lips at her own foolishness. "A union such as this blossoms with time. It begins with fondness, and grows through mutual respect into a powerful, lasting love. You and I...are fond of each other."

Ron could say nothing for a moment. For the first time since her arrival, he began to fathom the depths of Yori's feelings for him. No woman had ever given him so much as a second glance, Kim included. Now, one of the most beautiful, impressive, talented, sexy, friendly, funny women on the planet offered to spend the rest of her life with him, if only he accepted the most exciting opportunity a person could be offered.

And leave his old life behind.

Her heavy parka began to tremble, prompting Ron to act. His own inhibitions and uncertainty melted away as he embraced her from behind. His chin rested against her neck, and he was struck at once with her intoxicating aroma, and how it could have possibly escaped his notice before then. Chestnut and sandalwood swamped his senses as he felt her hands grasp his. "Yori," he murmured into her hair, "This is all so much to take in. You can't expect me to know what to do right away."

Ron's hands grew wet with tears as Yori brought them to her lips. "Tell me you do not feel anything for me. Tell me my love means nothing to you, and we shall never speak of it again."

He spun her with a gentle touch, pulling her close. The smell of her hair and the heat of her body spun a thick fog in his mind he could not pierce. He didn't want to. He wanted his response honest, and for Ron, thinking only got in the way of that. "Don't be stupid. You know the sitch."

Yori laughed through her tears. "Stupid, am I? You are a master of reassurance, Ron-kun."

"There's a lot on our plate right now, Yo-chan," he murmured. "Let's take everything real slow, one step at a time."

"You will consider Sensei's offer?" A sliver of hope entered her voice. "All of it?"

"All of it." Ron was a little surprised that he really meant it. One look into Yori's eyes erased that surprise.

Yori sighed and leaned into Ron, resting her head against his chest. It was as though a great weight had slipped from her shoulders. "Then I shall wait, and continue my observations." For the first time since their initial meeting, Ron saw Yori now as a warrior, but as a young woman, as vulnerable and uncertain as he himself felt. She looked up at him with a scared smile. "What do we do in the meantime?"

A new courage took hold of Ron, stifling the timid outcast within him. He cupped Yori's chin with sure hands and bent down. Yori's hot breath spilled over his lips, then into them, as he drove the last of her fears away.

PRICE CHECK

"And you wouldn't believe what she was wearing underneath that cloak," Kim insisted as she accepted a Fleecy T from Monique. "I've seen body paint that leaves more to the imagination."

"Mmm-hmm," Monique hummed, plumbing further into the depths of Banana Republic's racks. She would surface only on occasion to grunt noncommittally to Kim's outrage or to hand her a component for a new outfit. Considering the redhead's indignation, which was going on three hours strong, Monique felt safer inside the walls of polyester and cotton blends. But then, Banana Republic had been her sanctuary for years.

Oblivious to Monique's mulling, Kim continued, "And Ron! First he makes out with her right there in the museum. Then they disappear into his room together. And now, today, they're off on some little date all over the Tri-City area. We'll be lucky if they aren't caught going at it like wild monkeys in the park or something." She stopped as Monique laid a miniskirt over the growing pile on her arm. "Are you listening to me?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Monique withdrew from her fortress and looked Kim square in the eye. "I think the Reader's Digest version goes something like this: Yori's a Japanese ninja hooker here to kidnap and seduce Ron, who has somehow become a nymphomaniac in the twenty-four hours since I saw him last, and they're both out to get you."

Kim's bottom lip inflated in an angry sulk. "You don't have to make me sound crazy, Mon."

"Honey," she shook her head, "When you stop sounding crazy-"

"Monique!"

"Look, Kim," Monique sighed, and piled a trio of impossibly cute sweaters on Kim's load. If nothing else, she could weigh Kim down in anticipation of her own escape. "I really don't see what the problem is. So a girl likes Ron. It was bound to happen sooner or later, right?" She scoffed and resumed her hunt. "Besides, why should you care? 'S'not like you like Ron or anything."

Kim couldn't speak for a long moment. Shifting uneasily, Kim coughed, cleared her throat, coughed again, and muttered quickly, "Uh-"

Monique whirled upon Kim with a ferocious smile and a killer tube top. "I knew it. I knew it!" She then proceeded to perform the remarkably annoying victory dance Ron had taught her for just such an occasion. "I was riiiiiiiight!"

The bundle in Kim's arms dropped to the floor as she moved to muffle Monique, mortified at the unwanted attention bystanders were giving them. "Monique, cut it out." Once she had gotten Monique to settle down, she began collecting the scattered clothing before the watchful eyes of the clerks turned ugly. "It's not like that. Not exactly."

"I totally knew it," Monique kept saying. "You are, like, mad jealous right now. Have you told him?"

"No."

The response came quicker than Monique would have liked. "Well, are you going to?"

This time, Kim was a little slower in answering. "No," she said at last.

"No?" Everyone in the store looked their way again as Monique's voice detonated throughout the racks. What are you talking about? Thirty seconds ago you were ready to tear this Yori girl apart, and now you're..." She halted her own rant to rub the bridge of her nose. "Did all that hero stuff finally fry your brain?"

Kim waited patiently for her chance. Now she would take back control of the conversation. "Mon," she asked in a calm tone, "How many of your exes are you still friends with?"

"What?" The question caught her unaware. "That doesn't...I mean, with you and Ron-"

"How many?" Kim asked again.

Monique did a quick mental tally. The numbers weren't favorable for her argument. "But Kim," she pleaded, "You and Ron have been friends for, like, ever!"

"That doesn't make it easier, Mon. If anything, it makes it harder." Kim sighed in defeat, victorious in their argument. "I'm supposed to risk fourteen years of friendship because my emotions decide to go bonkers all of a sudden?"

The tragedy of the situation killed any of the remaining joy in their shopping trip for Monique. She watched Kim's green eyes glisten and swell with restrained heartache. "So what will you do?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know," Kim admitted in a husky voice. "Probably nothing. Wait until it goes away."

"You can't rationalize emotion, girl," a shocked Monique said in a small voice. "And you can't ignore it." Kim said nothing. "Do you know about Ron?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Doesn't change anything." Silence, then, "Monique, I don't trust her. We just came across this big case by chance. Suddenly, this girl Ron knew from Japan shows up with Kung Fu action and claims we're working on the same mystery by coincidence. The longer I talk to her," she said darkly, "The more it feels like she planned on inviting herself into our investigation from the start."

"Is she here for the statue," Monique asked, "Or for Ron?"

"I don't know. Both. Neither." She groaned. "That's what I have to find out."

Monique rubbed Kim's shoulder. "Well, whatever you decide, Kim, I'm behind you a hundred percent."

It was then that Kim's pocket began summoning her attention. Despondent, she withdrew her Kimmunicator. Her voice cracked, "Go, Wade," as the screen flashed on.

"Got your invites for tonight, Kim." The screen split diagonally, pushing Wade's image into the corner to make room for pertinent data. "But you guys'll have to leave now. Even with the ride I hooked up, it'll take a while to get there."

A test run of the night began to play out in Kim's head. Yori would be on her home turf, Kim would be busy discussing the missing statue with the club's owner, and Ron...well, Ron didn't have a clue. Yori couldn't be trusted, but Kim couldn't do everything at once.

"Wade," Kim began. A growing smirk chased the last of her sniffles away. "Is there a limit on the invite?"

Wade shrugged, confused. "They've just got you down as 'Kim Possible and friends'. Why?"

That dangerous smile turned Monique's way. "You love clubbing," Kim reminded her.

"What? No." Monique shook her head and backed up, crossing her arms. "No way. I cannot fly halfway around the world just to keep an eye on Ron's girlfriend for you."

"What happened to 'a hundred percent'?" Kim demanded.

"A hundred percent doesn't include globetrotting, Kim!"

Kim switched tactics. "Please?" she whimpered, moistening her eyes and drawing out her lip. "Pwease?"

The pout worked its magic. "Ah hell. Okay."

"Ha!" Her features snapped back into an expression of triumph.

"You are such a scumbag sometimes."

Kim ignored the dig and gazed down into her Kimmunicator. "Wade," she beamed, "Have Ron and his little date meet us at the pick-up site. We're going dancing."

To Be Continued

Author Note

A brief nod to Parareru for providing a bit of inspiration in this story from his fabulous fic, Ron One-Half. Go check it out.