The corridor of Middleton High was long - the longest in the school, in fact - and it appeared to be entirely empty. Since the students and faculty of the facility were engaged in their requisite scholastic duties (fourth period, to be precise), it was consequently perfectly normal for the extra long hall leading from the junction of the math and science wings to the gymnasium to be empty. But appearances can be deceiving - and indeed are, in this case. For despite the echoing void that filled this gallery, and the distinct lack of anyone in sight, the hallway was not actually deserted.
Faint sounds attested to this fact; the scuff of a boot on tile... the rustle of fabric on fabric... the shuffle of weary but unseen footsteps. Had any of the students or faculty been present to aurally witness these sounds, the rumors of the spectral senior (a ghostly haunt that supposedly roamed the halls of Middleton High late at night) that periodically circulated through the school, fed by ever more improbable innuendo and even more ghastly speculation - often alluding to the truth about the source of the cafeteria meatloaf or the fate of (the fearsome librarian) Mrs. Hatchet's husband (or in the worst cases, a combination of both) - would have been lent astonishing credence.
Fortuitously or not, there were no witnesses as Ron Stoppable released the Tai Shing Pek Kwar discipline that had rendered him invisible. Between one step and the next, he simply reappeared and continued moving down the hall towards the gym.
Ron shivered as he felt an unsettling lurch shudder through his body as he faded back into visibility. He tried to hurry his steps as he walked down the hall, since he now knew that Mr. Barkin was trying to stop him, but even freed as he was from the dead weight of his broken jetpack, he felt weighed down and lethargic, and his feet seemed to drag as he walked.
To say Ron hurt was a colossal understatement, but not even his exhaustion and pain could shake the ironclad resolution that possessed him. It drove him ever onward, ignoring such mundane niceties as his injuries and fatigue.
Still, despite his condition and the emptiness that filled him, seeming to insulate him from emotion even as it gave him an absolute singularity of focus, Ron felt a distant, odd sense of euphoria. Even in the midst of his training at Yamanouchi, free of earthly distractions and surrounded by teachers and students attempting to do the same things as he to provide examples and support, it had never been so simple to reach the state of mind necessary to achieve invisibility - nor to maintain it so completely.
"It was so easy... I didn't even have to think about how to do it, and it worked..." As he entered the gym, he vaguely thought, "That's a good thing, right?"
Ron entered the gymnasium through the double doors beneath the large "Mad Dog" logo near the center of one wall at the midpoint of the basketball court. He let the weight of the double doors he'd passed through swing closed behind him with a muted clang as he focused his attention on the students clustered in groups scattered across the gym floor.
With the absence of the gym teacher (and Mr. Barkin, the usual substitute), it looked to be largely "open play" in P.E. today. Some boys were engaged in a cutthroat basketball game at one end of the gym, ("He's not there...") while some girls were doing gymnastics at the other - mostly stretching and light tumbling, ("Definitely not there...") but one was poised balletically on a balance beam, and another was twirling around on a pair of parallel bars. A few more boys (mostly from some of the athletic teams) were in a pack running laps (and were also noticeably slowing down as they passed near the aforementioned girls doing gymnastics) ("Not there, either.")... The majority, however were playing dodgeball.
Ron's eyes slowly ran down the length of the opposing teams, resting on each until his tired mind could identify each player and eliminate him or her as his target. "Where is he?" ran through Ron's mind frequently as his eyes roved over student after student without finding "the new kid." "I know he's here..."
A growl of frustration rose in the back of Ron's throat. Driven by an impulse he neither understood nor questioned, he sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring as they drank in the aromas.
Sweat, mold, the "lemon" scent of the wax that covered the wooden slats that comprised the floor, and what in common parlance could be termed "eau de sweatsock" dominated, but under the main smells, others could be found... the metallic tang of a cornucopia of antiperspirants and deodorants, a chemical heat of analgesic cream, pheromones, and an undertone of blood new and old - his own and others'. Beneath these in turn were the individual contributions - the invisible emanations in different proportions exuded by all humans, common in principle, similar in composition, but with enough sensitivity of detection, nearly as unique as a fingerprint - and certainly telling enough for Ron in his abnormal state of mind.
"He is here..." Ron growled, as his teeth clenched. "Somewhere..." Closing his eyes (or one at least; the other still wouldn't close quite properly), Ron followed the elusive scent-trace, stepping away from the doors and out into the line of fire.
Ron's arrival and quiet kibitzing had passed unnoticed as the other students were mostly intently focused on their activities. When he stepped onto the midcourt line and began to walk across the width of the gym, that abruptly changed.
The students playing dodgeball reacted to Ron's appearance gradually - paranoia and fear of being slammed by a rubber ball hurled at near terminal velocity made shifting attention away from imminent potential danger too great a risk for most. As Ron slowly crossed through the center of the game, following the scent of his prey, the players slowly took notice. But balls continued to fly back and forth even as he crossed the no-man's-land between the teams.
Strangely, despite his usually poor performance at the game - even when he was uninjured and less dazed - Ron wasn't hit once as he crossed the arena - despite his "closed" eyes, unsteady gait, and visible injury. He didn't seem to dodge or react to the balls flying towards him in any way, but even the one ball that should have connected with his head somehow missed.
Although the wave of silence that preceded Ron's progression was less noticeable than it had been in the crowded hallway (largely because aside from the "sprong" of rubber balls hitting the floor or "thumps" as they hit people, it was mostly quiet... save for grunts of effort, the sounds of labored breathing, and the omnipresent squeak of sneakers on the hardwood floor), the phenomenon repeated itself. The players awkwardly shifted, one eye remaining on the game as the other gawked at the surprise interloper. The intensity of the game slowly tapered off as one by one they realized Ron's presence, and his condition.
After Ron had crossed the field of fire, the players watched him walk away, then uncertainly looked at each other as they tried to figure out what had just happened, and what they should do about it. A few more began to look around for Ron's minder, but Kim was nowhere to be found.
The confusion and uncertainty lasted only until the first ball was thrown. A rubber ball streaked across the court, striking a tall girl with a vaguely oval-shaped head in the chest with a thump that generated a pained grunt even as she dropped to the floor.
With the first thrown ball, doubts vanished, and the game immediately resumed. Play restarted with a swirl of chaotic activity and a frenzy of flying rubber balls as players tried to seize an advantage while the opposing team was distracted - and to distract themselves from thinking about their bloodstained fellow student.
Ron's odd interruption was pushed to the back of the player's minds as the renewed need to evade the flung projectiles seized their attention. Only a vague lingering uncertainty of "What just happened?" remained as a legacy of Ron's passage.
Ron ignored both the restarted game and the other students as he followed his nose. The scent grew progressively stronger as he went, until the only thing in his mind was the smell, and the need to find the one he was tracking. Shuffling along in front of the bleachers on the far side of the gym, Ron elevated his nose to better sense the scent from amidst the other masking odors.
With a squeak of rubber on polished wood, the gaggle of boys running laps slid to an unsteady halt as they rounded a corner and found themselves confronted by an apparent escapee from "Zombie Mayhem 2." At first, the trailing members of the pack cursed and shouted as they collided with the stilled frontrunners, but as they too, realized what had brought the outriders of the wolfpack to a halt, they fell silent and froze as well. They recognized Ron - even infamy is fame of a sort, but as he staggered forward, feet dragging, head canted at a strange angle, and with more than a little visible blood, the who and the why didn't matter. The boys quietly untangled themselves from the knot of limbs the pack had degenerated into at the sudden stop, and turned and reversed course without comment, running back the way they had come.
Ron passed near the cutthroat basketball game, but followed the scent trail rather than pause to watch the action. Unburdened by a referee, the match between some of the stars of the athletic program was intense, and much more physical than the rules intended. More than one of the sweating players bore a bright pink patch on their glistening skin as a legacy of a foul touch or a collision that would have been illegal even in hockey or rugby. From the bright eyes and broad grins of the players, it was clear that didn't matter as the shirts slowly regained the lead from the skins.
Turning a corner, Ron finally found Erik. He was lurking near the entrance to the girls' locker room - but not in a creepy way. In the hollow underneath the mostly-retracted stadium seats that lined one wall of the gym, Erik held court with Bonnie and a few of the other cheerleaders hanging on his every word - and not coincidentally, skipping the semi-organized exercise of open play phys ed.
As he drew himself up to his full height, ignoring the pain that resulted from the stretching of the burned skin of his stomach, Ron blinked and centered himself, trying to focus through the pain and exhaustion that blunted his thoughts. When he was as ready as he could be, he walked (as best he could) into the space under the bleachers, weaving between the support struts that threatened the incautious head, towards the small gathering.
He had been silent in his approach, but when Bonnie leaned forward as though to kiss Erik, Ron spoke, his voice emotionless and cold, if a trifle hoarse. "Don't get so close Bon-bon; I think he's contagious."
"Oh, please," Bonnie began, rolling her eyes in annoyance at the interruption. "Like I..." she stopped as she turned and saw Ron's condition. Despite her general contempt for him, even she had limits. "What happened to you?" she gasped in shock, stepping back and blinking in surprise. Ron being weird was normal; Ron with injuries was normal; Ron annoying her was normal; Ron like this... definitely not normal.
From behind Bonnie, a chorus of startled gasps, exhalations, and similar sounds arose from the other cheerleaders as they too noticed his presence - and his appearance. Erik's expression, on the other hand, showed only annoyance at the interruption.
Ron didn't respond to Bonnie's question; instead he stepped forward, interposing himself in the space between Bonnie and Erik, causing her to step back even further, before turning to face the taller teen. "Where were you Friday?" he asked, his expression empty of emotion as he briefly swayed unsteadily on his feet.
The cheerleaders blinked and looked at each other in confusion. The main thought on their minds as they digested the oddity of Ron's sudden and horrific appearance, and the sheer absurdity of his question was simply a universal "Huh?".
At first, Erik didn't respond; but as more of the girls who had been doting on him turned and seemed to be expecting him to answer, he finally did. "I was at Bonnie's party."
The girls - most of whom had been there as well - nodded their agreement, but Ron didn't move or change his expression. "Who were you with?" he asked instead.
"There were a lot of people," Erik retorted, a flicker of irritation visible on his face. "It was a party - not that I'd expect someone like you to know anything about those," he concluded dismissively, smirking as a few of the watching girls tittered in response.
"Who were you with?" Ron repeated, not changing his expression, but leaning a fraction closer to the older boy.
"He went with Kim, duh," Bonnie interjected. "Didn't she tell you? But why should you care? And should you even be here like that? You might... bleed on the floor and stain it, or something," she finished lamely, trying to regain her composure and bearing with an attack, but unable to muster more than a half-hearted one in the face of his condition.
"Who were you with?" Ron asked for the third time, as his hands slowly clenched into fists by his side.
Despite Ron's unsteady stance, Erik felt a faint air of menace coming from him - and it annoyed him. "You're Kim's friend?" Erik asked, his eyebrows rising in exaggerated surprise. "Sorry, I didn't know. She never mentioned you when we were at the party," he added, a hint of satisfaction entering his eyes.
Having verified Tara and Josh's information, Ron moved on to the next point he had to clarify - something he'd wondered ever since learning the truth, and had thought about for hours while on the plane rides to and from the Amazon. "Did you know?" he quietly asked, squeezing his hands tighter until his knuckles shone palely through the skin on his ungloved hand, and the leather creaked where it stretched across the other.
Despite Erik's quick assumption of a look of confusion, Ron could see in his eyes that he had understood what Ron meant by the question. "Did you know?" he repeated, the words accompanied by the faint echoing roar of his blood coursing through his veins that resounded in his ears as he swayed unsteadily on his feet.
"Yes, I knew," Erik finally answered. "I knew she'd be there... it was a date. And shouldn't you be in the nurse's office?" He hid a smirk as the girls surrounding him sighed at his show of caring and concern for such a loser.
Ron's emotions began to surge, momentarily breaching the pall that encompassed him. "Did. You. Know?" he enunciated clearly past the hollow roaring that seemed to fill his ears.
Leaning forward, Erik whispered in Ron's ear, too quietly for any of the watching cheerleaders to hear, "Of course I knew. So what? She wanted it anyway. Hell, she was begging me for it. And I gave it to her all night long," there was a quiet glee in his voice as he gloated, twisting the dagger in the smaller teen's back.
Slowly, Ron shook his head in stunned disbelief. He finally knew the truth - the truth that had been the focus of his obsessive thought and worry since he'd used the Kimmunicator on the plane and learned why his best friend was in the hospital and refusing to see or talk to him.
Ron's expression twisted as his emotions gnawed at the semblance of equanimity he'd been maintaining. Somehow, despite all the worries and thoughts leading up to this moment - the confrontation that he'd forced himself to keep moving for, so that he could confront the one who had done it to Kim - he'd never once thought about what he'd do when he'd actually passed that moment of truth; when he'd found the culprit who'd hurt Kim more than any costumed villain or evil genius or demented doctor...
... that he hadn't prevented from doing so.
And as he struggled to find the words he wanted to say, strained to think of something meaningful to do to find justice for his friend, Ron's mouth acted without conscious direction. "How could you do that to her?" he demanded, his voice cracking as he lurched drunkenly forward one pace, then staggered back again as he regained his balance, the eyelashes over his swollen eye twitching as his pulse throbbed. "She didn't do anything to you! She's... good... She tries to help people... She... She... How could you...?"
Bonnie, despite her occasionally one-track mind, wasn't stupid. She put two and two together as she watched the confrontation and listened to Ron's incoherent and disjointed accusations and protests and got four. And she wasn't at all pleased with the results (even though the conclusion she reached was wrong).
The fact that Ron's face bore a serious (if confused and bloodstained) expression she took to be damning as well. She might not like Ron very much, but she had known him a long time. A serious expression on his face was rarer than the proverbial hen's tooth and she knew what him wearing such an expression meant.
"Want to tell me what this is about, Erik?" she demanded. "Ron may be a total loser, but he wouldn't be here like this for no reason."
"He's just confused," Erik retorted, his composure cracking for the first time as he realized the girls' attitude towards him was beginning to shift. He scowled in annoyance at the runt who had interrupted his time with the girls, and appeared to be well on his way to sabotaging his plans - and the fun he had intended to have with all of them in turn.
Snorting in disbelief at the daft response, Bonnie moved around the block of Ron's battered body and gripped him by the biceps, directing his unfocused gaze onto her and causing his increasingly incoherent babbling to fall silent as his gaze met hers. "Ron?" she asked, her voice and manner softer towards him than it had been since his brief wealth evaporated, "What happened? What did he do?" From the edge in her voice as she asked the questions, it was clear that she had some idea as to the answers - and wasn't happy about them.
As his plans, popularity, and intended conquests began to turn on him, following Bonnie's lead, Erik felt furious. "You stupid son of a..." Erik began, but didn't finish, as without warning he hauled his fist back, and punched Ron squarely in his already battered eye.
Ron staggered back a pace, his arm jerked from Bonnie's grip by the sudden movement. His eye, already bruised and discolored, swelled until it was fully shut, but he didn't make a sound.
Bonnie flinched away from the assault as the other girls fled in panic like a covey of flushed quail, retreating to the safety of the girls' locker room. Erik's fist had narrowly missed Bonnie's ear, and her eyes widened as she realized that she had felt the breeze of its passage on her cheek. "Hey!" she cried out, turning and moving to confront the enraged teen - while simultaneously stepping from between the two boys (as was mentioned previously, Bonnie isn't stupid).
Irked at the interruption, Erik drew back his fist to take a swing directly at Bonnie. Before he could, Ron interrupted. "Don't," he ordered quietly, his voice once more empty of emotion as his focus narrowed to a pinpoint.
Despite himself, Erik snorted with amusement as he lowered his fist. Ron was a head shorter and substantially slighter than himself, and looked half-dead already. Erik wasn't usually a fighter, but even still, as a physical threat, he figured Ron rated slightly above Bonnie - but only slightly. And Bonnie? He rated her as not a threat at all.
"You hurt her," Ron said slowly and unsteadily, blinking his one good eye as his fists clenched and unclenched as his composure fractured and reformed as he struggled to keep his voice calm through the turbulence of his emotional maelstrom. A trickle of moisture leaked from beneath the swollen lid of his mangled eye as he found his voice once more through the haze of confusion and emotion, the words coming to him easily for once. "You took what should have been a gift, something special and precious... and spoiled it. And you knew... I can't believe you knew, and did it anyway."
"So what?" Erik sneered, enjoying Ron's heartbreak and pain. He felt a certain sadistic satisfaction in the palpable pain emanating from the one who had spoiled his plans; he took it as a just recompense for his interference. "I got it from a cheerleader in the first place. I was just returning the favor."
Bonnie was confused by Erik's retort, but was still increasingly glad that Ron had interrupted her when he did. "Let's just leave this loser here, Stoppable. I think you need to go to the nurse's office."
"Have to take care of something first, Bon-bon," Ron muttered. "He knew..." he finished, as though that explained everything.
"It can wait," Bonnie instructed him mock patiently, and pointedly. She found herself becoming a little annoyed that Ron - Ron, of all people - was proving to be even less tractable than Brick Flagg. "You'd think Kim would have had him trained better by now," she thought in irritation.
"Might give it to someone else," Ron explained dazedly, staggering a bit as he straightened. "He knew, but still... I have to stop him. Can't let him..."
Through the knife edge of new pain emanating from his eye, and the insulating blanket of his exhaustion, he felt... something... just beyond the edge of his consciousness. It called to him in a whisper too soft to hear, but too insistent and appealing to ignore.
"Stop me? You? Don't make me laugh, loser," Erik sneered. He stepped forward, fists clenched, prepared to pound the runt into submission and reclaim some of the sense of power he felt he'd lost in the confrontation. But as suddenly as he started, he stopped, and simply gaped in shock.
A sword had appeared in Ron's hands. It was Japanese in style, and though it may have been a trick of the irregular lighting beneath the bleachers, it seemed to be surrounded by an odd blue glow. What mostly brought Erik up short however, was the fact that it was held with the point aimed directly at Erik's stomach.
Bonnie blinked in confusion, even as Erik stepped back. "Where'd he get that?" they wondered silently.
"Can't let you do it again," Ron breathed, his unfocused eyes staring down at the blue sword he held. "Can't let you. Kim... Bonnie..." The swordtip sank slightly, whether deliberately, or because of Ron's deteriorating condition, until it was aimed differently.
Erik blanched as he unconsciously covered himself with his hands. He stepped back a pace, putting a little more distance between himself and the tip of the blade.
Ron continued mumbling to himself. "Can't let you do it..." he breathed, and suddenly he held not a sword, but a long dagger bristling with points, blood runnels, and branching sub-blades that looked like it would be all but impossible to use safely - but every edge appeared so deadly and sharp, that it would also be impossible to elude or to avoid injury when confronted by it.
"Too quick... too neat..." he breathed, his gaze still on the weapon in his hands. "Too... sharp," he concluded, looking up into Erik's frightened eyes. "Too... clean."
Ron slowly raised his hands, revealing the large blue spoon he now held. "You knew..." he whispered. "Unclean... Sick and wrong... Sick. And. Wrong." he finished, enunciating each word clearly.
Erik looked down at the spoon Ron held, then slowly looked up into Ron's one visible eye.
Ron's eye was unfocused and a little bloodshot, but it never wavered as it's gaze pierced through Erik's own. And as Erik's eyes slowly widened, Ron's lips creased into a smile - one that Erik didn't recognize, but that Kim would have noted as being very reminiscent of one of Shego's when she was about to do something she really, really enjoyed.
Recognizable or not, it was too much for Erik. He ran for his life, shoving Bonnie into the wall formed by the retracted bleachers with a loud crash that rattled the metal seats and left them quivering.
"Ow!" she groused, rubbing an aching elbow.
"Don't worry, Bon-bon," Ron said spacily, as his head slowly turned to follow the flight of his prey, despite the fact that the bleachers obstructed his view. Through the haze that clouded his mind, he noted, "He won't get away. There's nowhere he can run that I won't find him." Somehow his hands were empty, though she hadn't seen him move to put away the spoon - not that she'd seen where he'd gotten it (or any of the other implements he'd held) in the first place. "I can't let him get away..."
Leaving Bonnie alone, Ron walked from beneath the bleachers, faster than he'd entered, but just as unsteadily. As he turned the corner and entered the gym proper, he seemed to fall forward. Despite what looked like a collapse, he caught himself on his hands even as his legs bent, so that instead of landing on his face, he sank onto his haunches. Sniffing the air, Ron's lips drew back in an expression resembling a fusion of a smile, a snarl, and a sneer that revealed his bared teeth.
Erik glanced over his shoulder as he ran, and saw Ron looking at him from an odd crouching pose - and looking distinctly feral. "Stay away from me, you freak!" he shouted. He staggered as one foot stumbled when he tried to turn his attention back in the direction of his headlong flight. Before he could recover his balance, a rubber ball slammed into the side of his head and brought him crashing to the ground.
"Sorry about that," Vinnie informed him insincerely. "Didn't see you there." The young African-American teen smirked as he dodged an incoming ball from the other, quickly becoming caught up in the flow of the game again.
As Erik scrambled to his feet, cursing foully, Ron began to move. His gait was unusual, like an oddly jointed quadruped's, and he used his hands as much as his feet as he bounded across the gym floor on a long diagonal course that would end at the door Erik was making for. Despite how awkward the movement appeared, and the injuries he clearly sported, Ron was still moving much, much faster than Erik.
A snarl was on Ron's lips, and as he neared the ranks of dodgeball players they could see nothing rational in his one open eye. Without pausing to question the action, or wonder what had caused the mad dog to slip his leash, they moved aside to let him through, the dodgeball game gradually slowing to another irregular halt punctuated by an occasional thump.
Erik had a sizeable lead on Ron, and he nearly reached the exit. Before he could flee from the gym however, the twin doors slammed open, forcing him to come to a staggering, sliding halt as a figure stomped through the doorway, blocking his escape.
"Nice 'Mad Dog' routine, Stoppable. Now give it a rest," Mr. Barkin barked.
Glancing over his shoulder, Erik could tell Ron wasn't obeying. He gibbered in panic, "Get out of the way... I've got to get out of here... He knows I knew before I... He's not right in the head, you've got to let me... It's all that stupid chick's fault... It's not my fault! She wanted me... Who cares if I..." He finished with a frightened yell, "He came after me with a spoon, man!"
"Hold your horses," Barkin ordered under his breath, not turning his eyes away from the rapidly approaching Ron. "Nobody's going anywhere until we get this mess straightened out."
Ron's expression darkened with an animal fury as he neared his target. Erik's eyes widened as he imagined he saw his death burning in that maddened eye. Ignoring Barkin's orders, Erik ducked under the arms Mr. Barkin still held outstretched to bar the doorway and fled blindly down the hallway, heading for the school's side door and the motorcycle he had parked outside.
"Get back here!" Barkin yelled over his shoulder, but was ignored. "No one ignores Steve Barkin," he muttered to himself, then promised even more quietly, "I'll deal with you later."
"Stoppable!" he bellowed, finally attracting the attention of the entire gym class at the force of his call, but the teen's expression changed not an iota as he continued bounding forward. Ron was close enough that Mr. Barkin could see the lack of anything approaching humanity in his eye.
Despite how near he was getting to Mr. Barkin, Ron wasn't slowing. Barkin braced himself for the impact, but just as Ron bounced against the ground to make another leap, someone slipped under Mr. Barkin's outstretched arm and entered the gym.
"Ron!"
Through the haze that clouded his vision, Ron blinked as something penetrated the void of his thoughts. "Wha...?" he began, but as he lost his focus, and his conscious mind tried to reassert active control of his actions, his body tried to move both as a biped and a quadruped simultaneously.
Mr. Barkin had a perfect view of Ron's face as his expression rapidly changed from a snarl, to confusion, to panic, and finally to distress as he landed badly from the last, haphazard bounding hop he'd made. As his feet scrambled and slipped on the polished floor, he crashed in an ungainly heap. Ron awkwardly slid to a stop a few feet in front of Mr. Barkin, just inside the edge of the blue out-of-bounds boundary of the basketball court.
Ron rose from the unsteady half-sprawl, his turtleneck and cargo pants smeared with pale tan dust and dirt he'd collected from the floor in his sliding crash. He made an attempt to straighten that mostly succeeded, his eye wide and wild. Then, with a faint whisper of "KP?" he slowly sank forward to his knees. After an interminable pause as his mind processed her presence and decided it was safe to shut down, he slumped forward, burying his face in the sea green expanse of cloth that covered her stomach as he lost consciousness.
Kim awkwardly leaned Ron's limp form backwards, laying him on his back. She winced as she realized the extent of his injuries, but was distracted as her mother brushed past Mr. Barkin, carrying the medical kit.
"Oh my," she breathed, even as she knelt to open the kit and begin assessing Ron's wounds. "You poor thing."
"Get back to dodgeball, people!" Mr. Barkin bellowed, stepping around Ron's prone form and partially obstructing him from view. Despite the unusual activity going on near the entrance, most of the class obeyed - it didn't pay to draw Mr. Barkin's attention, let alone his ire. From across the diagonal length of the gym, he could see Bonnie was continuing towards them, but he let it pass.
Mrs. Possible ignored the activity and all other distractions as she adjusted Ron's clothing and began to do what she could for his injuries.
"Care to explain, Miss Possible?" Mr. Barkin asked - seemingly casually, but his intense undertone demanded an answer.
Kim glanced between Ron, her mother, the doorway that Erik had fled through, and the approaching form of Bonnie. Without a word, she simply held out one hand, letting Mr. Barkin bend down to read the admission information encoded on the hospital wristband.
"I... see," he said slowly. "Was there... coercion or compulsion involved?" he asked uncomfortably, wincing in discomfort at having to ask the question as he straightened his back.
"Not," Kim began, as uncomfortably as he, lowering her eyes so she wouldn't have to meet his gaze, "more than the heat of the moment."
Mr. Barkin nodded slowly, and stared over her partially lowered head, his eyes clearly focused on something other than the gymnasium. "I see..." he repeated. "I am of course disappointed that you failed to pay attention to certain lectures," he began, before concluding in a softer voice, more to himself than to her, "but I suppose we're all entitled to be young and stupid sometimes."
Kim wanted to be angry at the characterization, but couldn't muster the energy or the certainty of her position to dispute it. She lowered her gaze, and found herself staring at the bloodstain Ron had left on her top; an image of the side of his face was imprinted in muddy red on her stomach when his bloodied face pressed against it. "It's as much my fault as Erik's. I didn't have to, but I..." she trailed off, her cheeks flushing crimson again.
"That's not important right now. We just have to deal with the consequences," he murmured. "I take it Stoppable found out, and that Sullivan was the... other party?" he asked.
Kim simply nodded, her hands wringing at the bottom of the surgical blouse, twisting the material to hide the stain behind a fold of fabric as a vivid blush suffused her cheeks.
"I see..." he repeated, his brow furrowing as he thought about what Kim had said. "That certainly explains what young Mr. Sullivan said before he ran off - as well as some other matters. Miss Possible, while I am hardly an expert on the laws of this state, based on what Erik said before he ran off, and speaking as a private citizen, and not in my capacity as an educator, you understand, I would recommend that you consult an attorney and pursue civil action - if not criminal. If nothing else, you should consider sending him your medical bills."
"It wasn't..." Kim began, blushing even more furiously, "I mean, I wanted... I wasn't... I didn't..."
Mr. Barkin's expression didn't shift from the more than slightly uncomfortable frown. "Talk to Stoppable."
"I'm sorry about Ron," Kim apologized, her cheeks crimson with embarrassment. "He wasn't supposed to find out; I just don't understand why he went off like that, instead of going to the doctor after the mission. He should have known better."
Raising an eyebrow, Mr. Barkin held his arms behind his back and eyed her carefully as he tried to ascertain if she was joking. When he was convinced she wasn't, he simply shook his head. "Don't make me question your intelligence more than once per day, Possible," he scowled, his voice dropping in volume and gaining a growl. "I don't like it." With that, he stalked past Kim to where Mrs. Dr. Possible was treating Ron and bent to assist.
Kim blinked in surprise, honestly shocked by Mr. Barkin's parting words. "Did he just call me stupid?"
From behind her, Kim heard incoherent snatches of Ron's stammering voice as her mother treated his wounds. "... sorry... black hole... sterile... protect... so sorry... Mrs. Dr. P... fault... he knew, but... sorry... scarring... deep space probe... sorry... I didn't..."
"Shh," Kim's mother tried to quiet him as she finished wrapping his leg in gauze, patting his thigh above the bandaged area in an attempt to calm him, her voice reassuring and soothing. "Rest now, honey. It's not your fault. Don't worry; everything will be alright."
Kim's attention was drawn away from Ron's prone form as Bonnie approached. "What?" she demanded of her high school nemesis.
"You need to take better care of your pet," Bonnie responded mildly, glancing over her shoulder at Ron as Kim's mother cut away part of his pants as she continued to work on his leg.
"Excuse me?"
"Ron. He's still a loser, and a froob... but he's loyal," Bonnie explained. "That's too useful a trait to throw away like this."
Bonnie left it at that and was walking away, when Kim demanded, "That's it? That's all you're going to say?" Kim was expecting Bonnie to be gloating and lording it over her even worse than usual. Instead, she only made a snide comment that was even vaguely complimentary of Ron. "What's wrong with her?"
After a quick glance around to ensure she wouldn't be overheard, Bonnie answered, "What do you want me to say? It wasn't your fault your new boyfriend is violent and stupid. Just get well, then come back to school so I can put you back in your place - like normal."
Kim raised a surprised eyebrow. "That's unexpected," she mused. "I don't know what you're thinking, but..."
Bonnie raised an aristocratic eyebrow in turn and cocked one hip, causing her cheerleading skirt to swish gently from side to side. "If you don't want a break, I'm more than willing to do that too. I'm only cutting you some slack because if it wasn't for Ron showing up, Erik would have gone after me next."
When Kim looked like she was going to protest, Bonnie held up one quelling hand, and glanced briefly at her elbow as her expression darkened into a furious scowl. "Don't bother denying it or covering up for that loser, Kim. He's not worth it. He was going to take a swing at me, too; he's total bad news. I was just lucky he was working his way up the food chain, and not down." Bonnie sniffed a haughty dismissal, then spun on her heel and left Kim gaping in disbelief at her back.
Kim watched her march away, stunned speechless by Bonnie's words. "Erik tried to hit her?" she wondered in disbelief. "That's impossible... I can't believe..."
She turned and slowly walked back to her mother, her mind awhirl with confusion. "Here, hold this," Kim's mom commanded, reaching behind herself to hand Kim the Kimmunicator.
Kim took the device gingerly, twining her hands around the sensors and probes that seemed to be sprouting from every inch of it. She held it steady as it beeped intermittently, scanning Ron's body for any possible change in condition.
Ron was swathed in bandages from head to ankle, surrounded by irregular swatches of his clothes that had been cut away to provide easier access to his injuries. He appeared to have passed out once more, the incoherent babbling to Kim's mother having sapped what remained of his energy. The telescoping probes sprouting from the Kimmunicator waved back and forth in a gentle swaying motion as they watched over him. "Oh, Ron," she breathed, mostly to herself.
"He'll be fine, Kimmie, don't worry. It looks worse than it is - thankfully. Let's get him to the car," Kim's mother instructed. "Can you carry him, Mr. Barkin?"
"Of course," he replied, and with a single movement, lifted him, cradling the back of his head with one hand to prevent Ron's neck from flopping.
"Get his legs, Kimmie," Mrs. Possible continued, plucking the Kimmunicator from her hands. "I don't want the left one moving any more than it has to."
Kim hesitantly obeyed, holding up Ron's legs by the muddy boots. She shuffled beside Mr. Barkin, matching her pace to his as he strode out of the gym and headed for their car.
Between the two adults, and with Kim's aid, they gingerly positioned Ron across the back seat of the station wagon with his head resting on Jim and Tim's bag of soccer gear. Mrs. Dr. Possible positioned his injured leg, and used the bulk of the medical kit to ensure it would stay securely in position, before carefully closing the door, trying not to jar the unconscious teen.
"Thank you for the help, Mr. Barkin," Dr. Possible sighed, running a hand through her dishevelled red hair.
"You're quite welcome," he nodded, straightening his back to its usual ramrod erectness. "Let me know if there are any changes in his condition, and I'll be sure to bring over all the homework he misses."
"I'm sure he'll appreciate it," she replied with a gentle smile.
"Doubtful," Mr. Barkin growled, but there was a suspiciously cheerful look in his eye. "And don't forget what I told you," he ordered Kim.
Kim nodded, still confused and uncertain following her confrontation with Bonnie. She joined her mother in climbing into the family vehicle, and settled back in her seat with a heavy sigh. The car pulled out at a much more sedate pace than it had arrived (which Kim took to be a very good sign), as her mother glanced into the rear view mirror every now and then to check on Ron's condition and positioning.
Mr. Barkin watched the orange station wagon until it passed from sight around a curve in the road, then turned to head back into the school building, wondering what the eventual fallout would be from the incident.
"Worries about that will wait for later; right now, I need to find young Mr. Sullivan."
Author's Notes: Whew... here concludes the first arc of this story. I don't think I've ever had a more misunderstood story than this one; between picking up the action in the middle of events and showing that the characters aren't aware of everything that happens instantly, and as it happens, and trying not to give spoilers or too much foreshadowing (while definitely trying to use foreshadowing), and trying to respond to reviews and consequently spoiling some of the plot twists (pause for breath) I think I may have confused folks.
I don't know whether to feel gratified so many folks responded, disappointed I didn't convey the story clearly enough to prevent confusion, or surprised it's generated such a response. To be blunt, I wasn't exactly trying to be deep, meaningful, and full of insights into the nature of reality and the key to the meaning of life with this story... Though people aren't wearing enough hats. (And kudos if you get that reference.)
Did I want to put in some (I thought) clever plot twists and tweak reader expectations? Yep.
Did I want to inject a new element into the fandom, while staying pretty true to the characters? Yep.
Did I use one of my standard plot twists? Yep - people don't know everything, people are confused, there's miscommunications, information travels slowly, and omniscience is darn rare... this is a truth that shows up in a lot of my fics.
Did I want to tweak some conventional scenes, scenarios, and plot devices - and in so doing tell what I thought was an interesting story? Yep.
Did I want to take the standard Kim gets hurt and Ron reacts badly scenario and twist it to my own purposes? Yep... and as I've mentioned before, I write and read in a bunch of fandoms, and you can find this basic story premise in every single one of them - not to mention most regular TV shows and many movies. Heck, if you look at it a certain way, even Ron's dream at the beginning of "The Fearless Ferret" fits this mold.
Did I think I was creating something new and different? Well, in a way... but I'll be the first to admit it was derived from a typical premise - albeit one I hadn't seen before, which frankly is a little rare. Last time I looked, when I checked in my browser on there were approximately 61 pages of Kim Possible stories... and that's just one site, for one fandom. I may be a little creative, but I'm not egocentric enough to assume that I'm coming up with something that's never been done before in the history of humanity.
Did I want to write a story where, even though the timeline isn't entirely linear, there's enough information to identify what's happened, and by foreshadowing and references and inference, let the reader think about what's happened, and what's coming - and either reward that, or tweak what happens so it's not exactly what's expected? Definitely. I pictured what I thought of as a "Babylon 5" moment where 10 parts into the story, you remember something I alluded to early on in the story and think, "Hey, I remember that." Mine wouldn't involve either a nuke or a head on a pike, however. But then, foreshadowing doesn't have to be subtle.
Did I want to not come off sounding preachy? A great big yep - and in a story involving premarital sex (with regrets, revenge, and an STD thrown in, besides) I thought this was going to require treading a very, very fine line, but perhaps I went too far in the other direction and people assumed I was either advocating a behavior or assigning entirely atypical behavior to the characters.
Did I spoil too much in the author's notes? Yep, probably... But thanks to the previous point, I was trying to head off some of the anticipated backlash. And in my defense, most of those (after the first notes anyway), were in response to reviews and trying to clarify things... What can I say? The squeaky wheel gets the grease. Did I come off as a little full of myself in some of them? Yeah to that one too... I tried to avoid mentioning certain aspects and certain things, and in retrospect, I don't think I did it very well, but I was trying to explain things without too many spoilers, or coming right out and saying still other things, and again, trying not to be preachy while explaining the intent and the premises, and the story flow.
Do I think Kim and Ron are perfect? Heck no... and if nothing else, "Ron Millionaire" and "October 31st" should tell everyone that they aren't - not even Kim. They're human - animated, but even so... Which means they're just as prone to mistakes, accidents, and all the other foibles as everyone else, even in a Disney universe, which is one of the reasons I (and probably a lot of other folks) like 'em so much.
In all truth, this is the first time I've felt like I had to explain, justify, or defend a story - and considering some of the premises I've used in the past, that's really saying something. Anyway, because of this confusion, I think I'll add an interlude chapter before continuing to the next arc in the story (what happened to Ron - which isn't exactly a new bit of spoilage: that was Note 2 back in the initial author's notes) summarizing the facts of the story as they're known to date (now that I don't have to worry about revealing even more spoilers for the first arc), which should hopefully clear up questions on what's been covered and clarify what I intended - especially since I'm betting I'll draw some flak for the events of this part as well.
R&R, and let me know what you think of it, and any other questions about the events shown to date, and I'll try to clarify things...
Aside from that, I hope you're still enjoying the story.