Disclaimer: We know the drill by now, don't we? I DON'T OWN KIM OR RON OR ANYTHING! Except my original characters. You know which are which. ;)

A Note from the Authoress: Okay. Finally an update! Sorry, I had finals and then I was really, really, really sick. No excuse, I know, but I had no attention span (like I ever do, but whatever). And personal issues with what I considered to be my Ron. Stupid boys. But now it's done! And I have a warning: CHARACTER DEATH. Just so you know. And I apologize for any errors in continuity or repetitive word choice in the previous chapter. I was writing it between Madame Bovary and my calculus book. Stupid finals. :grumbles: So I was sort of preoccupied. Sorry. :( Oh, and next chapter is the first interlude! Yay! And I think I know which one I'm going to do. ;) And! And! I'm already planning the sequel! (Although I'll be lucky if this is even half done by the end of the summer.) The sequel will be much darker and a lot more sensual (not that this is at all). I'm not sure how long this one will be. There's a long timeline to cover, but how much of it I'll actually address is still up in the air. We'll see. :)

Anissa: Thank you, dear. Recognizing any characters? If so, you'll see another familiar face in this chapter. :)
Jezrianna2.0: Thank you muchly for your critique. As stated above, a lot of the things you mentioned I wasn't even aware I was doing, as I really didn't get a chance to read over the entire chapter all together. (Haha, that might be a good idea, huh?) However, a couple things you mentioned were intended for an effect, but I'm very glad you pointed them out, as I know now I need to work on them so they work properly. Thanks. :)
the Desert Fox: Hmmm . . . I believe I'll address James' threats in a couple chapters. Keep your eyes open. ;) A: I don't think they set a specific place, either. But I've seen several people use Colorado, and, as I live there, I thought it would be a good place to write in, mostly because I'm so familiar with it. Thanks!
AlyRaven: Oh, no! Not the CAPYBARAS! Noooooooo!
Visigoth29527: The man and the woman? No . . . not quite. ;) You'll see. Thanks!
Everybody Else: Huggle! Thanks for reading!


Chapter Five

Deep red fingernails drummed against the arm of a chair, breaking the silence of the dimly lit room. She'd been waiting for hours, but the wait would be worth it, she was sure. Kim Possible had met the only other person she feared, and they were prepared for their plans. Naturally, she'd already known Kim's fatal flaw, but it had been silly to act on it . . . until now. That damn woman just had to go off and steal that talisman. Wasn't breaking away from her enough? Or did she feel the need to rebel even more?

She sighed, stopping her rhythmical movements. She'd wished it wouldn't come to this. She wasn't exactly keen on killing. No, not killing in general, but backhanded treachery as would be necessary to rid her of this teen heroine. But with the recent turn of events, she had no choice, not if she wanted to achieve her goal. No, it wasn't to take over the world; that was too bland, too ordinary. All she wanted was to pose a threat to every nation in existence. She wouldn't have to worry about keeping everything under control; she could sit back and relax, let the little presidents and kings keep track of things, but if they ever did anything that displeased her, all it would take was a nuclear weapon aimed at their capitol, working behind the scenes so as not to give away her identity. She knew how to handle it all; it wouldn't be hard. But now she had to deal with Kim Possible. She can do anything! No doubt she'd already been informed of her plans. That wouldn't stop her, though. No, this would work better than she could have ever hoped for. After all, someday they'd have to realize the limits of their love . . .


Kim jolted awake. That was one weird dream . . . She rubbed at her temples for a moment, trying to remember the details, sensing some importance there. There'd been a woman there . . . she'd seen that face before . . . but, no. It wasn't the same one who'd given her the card, that much she remembered. The one she'd dreamt about had hair blacker than the night, and daggers . . . and a sword . . . and . . . a gun . . . pressed against her temple. She shivered slightly, moving to pull the covers further over her shoulder, but found resistance.

After having left the house, they'd quickly found themselves in another argument. Kim had insisted that she was fine on her own and that Ron didn't need to worry about her to that extent just because their relationship had taken the next step. Ron had tried not to argue, but found Kim's insolence infuriating and, in one brief moment of uncharacteristic rage, he'd snapped at her. Of course, he'd immediately apologized, but those harsh words were enough to keep her silent with guilt for several hours, until finally, curled up in her bed, Kim had felt her blankets move to wrap around her more warmly. She'd opened her eyes to find Ron leaning over her, tucking her in. She'd smiled meekly as he'd leaned down and softly kissed her forehead, brushing her wet hair away from her forehead. "I'm sorry," they'd whispered in unison. "Jinx," she'd murmured. And with that, they'd said their goodnights and turned out the lights.

One more fight evaded . . . She sighed and curled up more tightly into herself, only to feel something scratching at her breast and hear the rustle of paper. Wha . . . ? She quickly thrust her hand into the oversized tee-shirt (that happened to belong to Ron) she'd employed as pajamas for the night and found the offensive slip of cardstock. Holding it up to the dim light shining through the curtains, she saw no name, no label of belonging save for the image of a black rose inscribed across the top and, below it, a seven digit number.

Soon, the most important things in your life will be ripped away from you, one by one. When this happens, you must contact me. Promise me you will . . .

She turned the card over in her fingers. Rose . . . Quickly, she concluded that that must be the strange woman's name. The entire incident confused her. Why had she been so afraid? She'd faced some of the most vicious criminal minds in the world, and not once had she been so scared. And now, she meets some woman, barely a woman, too, perhaps only a few years older than herself, and she was frightened out of her wits. And to top it all off, the woman posed no outward threat, she held no weapons, took no battle stance, threatened her only jokingly and never with any true malice, and even claimed to be her friend, but all the same Kim had been afraid. She hastily stashed the card in her utility belt that was conveniently hanging from the bedpost beside her. Naturally, she didn't take Rose's warnings seriously, but . . . better safe than sorry, right?

She rolled over to see if that position offered more comfort or warmth. And there, perched on the edge of her bed, somehow having drifted off while sitting upright, was Ron. She smiled at him for a moment before reaching over to take one of his hands between both of her own. He murmured something unintelligible in his sleep and clasped his hand tightly around hers. Closing her eyes, she brought his fingers up to her cheek. Ron . . . what's to become of us? She could feel tears stinging her eyes. She often wondered if they'd done the right thing, taking the next step, that is. True, they'd only grown closer since the Prom, but had it also done irreparable damage to their friendship? Should they take a step backward, would things ever be the same again? Not due to the romantic aspect of their lives now, but because of their little conflicts . . . did they only apologize now because they felt it a responsibility brought on by their romantically intimate situation? Would they care so much about making up if these conflicts were brought on by growing platonic closeness? That was the problem: she didn't know.

He shifted in his sleep, moving to lean against the bedpost on his side, his head hitting the wood with a loud thump, causing him to moan softly and her to open her eyes. She smiled, gazing up at him. Seeing him like this, so intent on staying close to her, protecting her, needless as it may be, pushed all her doubts aside. She realized that she wouldn't trade this for anything. Despite his faults, despite their differences, despite the complications, she knew she couldn't even imagine living without this man; he completed her and, through any argument, any struggle, she'd be with him until the day she died. As morbid as the thought was, she found that the only acceptable way to die would be in his arms.

Ron was snoring lightly. She considered waking him, to tell him to go back to his own bed and get a good night's rest; they were going back to school in the morning, after all. Nevermind they'd not be doing anything of importance; the day after a snow day is always dull and pointless. Wouldn't want any classes to be ahead of others now, huh? Block scheduling was a lifesaver when it came to missions and homework . . . and snow days. Chances were that they'd be watching Monty Python and the Holy Grail in over half their classes tomorrow. Not that she was complaining, how else do you keep a group of teenagers entertained for an extended period of time?

Still, he should get some sleep. She thought about inviting him to crawl under the covers with her, but before she could move to wake him, fatigue overcame her, her eyes drifted closed and she murmured "Goodnight, Ron," before finally giving into the welcoming realm of dreams.


It had all started like a normal day in the world of working for the infamous Dr. Drakken. He'd ranted about his new plot to take over the world, and she'd made sarcastic remarks at him, just to see how peeved he'd get at her. Yes, it had all been perfectly normal. She'd filed her nails and helped polish that overly silly doomsday device to its sparkling glory. There'd been a trip on the alarm. Nothing too unusual, it was probably Kim Possible. She'd readied for battle, same old same old . . .

No, she couldn't recall what had happened next. That's when it had all begun, wasn't it? That was the beginning of the end for the formerly indestructible entity known as Shego.

There she sat, drenched in her own blood, weakened but not dead thanks to the healing powers granted her by the comet. She felt the wounds on her face heal, painfully, but it was certainly better than the stinging sensation that plagued her should they be left open, only amplified by the salt from the tears that coursed down her cheeks. This can't be the end . . . For the first time in her life, she got down on her knees and cried. Sobs wracked her usually strong frame as she clung to the fabric of his coat, struggling with the weight brought on by his limp body, still warm, as if alive. "Wake up, Dr. D., please . . . wake up . . ." She buried her face into his chest, murmuring of how sorry she was for everything she'd ever done, ever said to him. "I'm afraid . . . please, wake up . . ." Shego was but a frightened little girl, shaking with the pain, both physical and mental, that shot through her veins. For once, she feared death. No, it wasn't that she'd never feared it; it was that for the first time, she saw death as a reality. And now, the only comfort she had was that maybe, just maybe, this man who'd put up with her through so many years, and kept her on for some sort of companionship, as twisted as their relationship may be, was still somehow alive. True, his skin was paler and bluer than normal, but his body was warm, and it held some hope.

But when she received no answer, and no breath passed through his lips, and his heart remained still, silent, un-beating, she knew this was the end. No, I can't die like this . . . But something at the back of her mind reminded her that this pain was greater than she'd ever felt before, and that she was not immortal; she could die. No, she would die. The physical blows had been easy enough to overcome, but the ringing in her head, the thousand icy knives that stabbed her from inside only grew in force. Whatever this was, it was ruthless, unbeatable. It must have been some form of black magic. She whimpered. My only friend dead and I'm soon to follow . . . Another wave of pain shot through her limbs, paralyzing any voluntary movement, causing her body to spasm as if struck by lightning. She tried to cry out but found she couldn't. Shadow clouded her vision as mist engulfed her mind, leaving blind, dizzy and lost. She struggled to pull herself into another position, to protect herself, but to no avail, slipping in her own blood. She whimpered.

"Well, well, well, I see you're still alive," came a scornful voice. "I knew you were strong, but this strong? I'm impressed. I've never known anyone to survive such pain, and even remain conscious." Shego looked up to see a woman standing over her, her dark skin bared by her whorish clothing, or rather lack thereof. The woman held out one hand and Shego felt a surge of energy run down her spine. She twisted the hand, slowly at first, and finally jerking it around, bringing a jolt of power into Shego's body, causing it to convulse violently, coiling unnaturally on the floor.

Shego looked up at the beastly woman before her, glaring vengefully, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. "Bitch," she rasped.

The enigma raised a carefully sculpted eyebrow. "Oh? Me? A bitch?" Shego glared and tried to stand, but found her legs would not hold her wait. She tried to crawl toward her, but slipped in the sticky red liquid, her chin hitting the concrete floor with a loud crack. She cried out. The woman stepped forward, spiked heels clicking. "Look who's talking." She smirked. "I'm not the one crawling on the ground like a dog."

The woman snapped her fingers and Shego's body suffered a fierce seizure. Shego's eyes, bloodshot, stared up at her with vengeance. "What do you want with me?" She growled viciously, and, in a rash moment of hopelessness, wailed, "Why don't you just kill me already?" She shuddered painfully once more.

The woman seemed to consider, pacing back and forth before circling Shego aggressively, spiraling in toward her, blood splashing up against her boots, kicking it up onto Shego's already soaked form. "Giving up already?" she pondered aloud, red lacquered nails stroking her chin thoughtfully. "I'd have assumed you were stronger than that, considering you've managed to survive thus long." She snickered quietly to herself. "And I thought you could've been of use to me!" She sighed. "Very well, then." And with that she shot a finger toward the torn and battered being before her, causing it to break out in wave after wave of tremors, splashing even more blood up on itself.

"Wait!" Shego shrieked. She managed, with great difficulty, to claw her way up to a half sitting position, more red liquid dripping from the corners of her mouth and nose. Her lip quivered. "What do you mean, you thought I could've been some use to you?" The heel of her right hand slipped and she plunged face first toward the ground once more.

"Well," the woman explained, a harsh tone in her voice, "You were so strong, I thought you'd make an excellent companion." Shego looked up at her, inspecting her appearance a bit more thoroughly. She noted the dark skin, the claw-like nails, the black leather that hardly covered her in a decent manner, the thick black hair tucked behind one ear with a delicate white flower. "I doubted you at first, considering your current – oh, wait, I'm sorry, I mean your former employer – you seemed mediocre at best."

Shego snarled, not certain whether in response to the affront to Drakken or to herself.

"But up until a few moments ago, you'd proven yourself worthy." She flipped her hair slightly, allowing Shego a glimpse at her jade-colored eyes.

"Worthy of what?" she responded skeptically.

The woman laughed. "Oh, my dear, so naïve . . . you've been trying for so long, and you still don't know what you've been working towards, all this time?" She considered unleashing another spell on the poor creature, but stopped herself. No . . . this girl could prove useful. Perhaps she was evil enough for such a destiny. "Haven't you always wanted to rule the world?" She smiled, and Shego could have sworn that she'd seen fangs pressing into the woman's lower lip.

With great physical effort, Shego smiled. "Now you're speaking my language," she sang, arching her eyebrows.

"So," the woman began, "Do we have some sort of agreement?" She glanced at her nails as if to check to see if they needed any filing, and Shego immediately formed a liking for this woman, mostly because she reminded her a great deal of herself.

A mischievous sparkle filled her eyes as the pain receded and recent events seemed to hold no weight. The most important thing now was the future, a future in which she and this mysterious woman (although she already had plans for a mutiny once she'd evaded doing anything too difficult) would take over the world. Of course, she'd not seen this new villain's plans, nor was she familiar with any of her past work (after all, she'd just been made aware of her existence at all a few hours prior), but she had faith in her. After all, she had managed to destroy Drakken. Drakken . . . No, she couldn't think like that, not now. There were more important things to be done. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I believe we do."

The woman turned away from her as if to leave the lair, but soon looked over her shoulder at Shego with one raised eyebrow. "Are you coming?"

"Yes," Shego said, a bit hesitantly, "Of course. But . . . what's your name?"

The woman smiled, and, once again, Shego couldn't help but notice her sharp canines. "You may call me Lilly," she stated and began to walk away, the flower that had previously stayed so obediently in her hair falling to the ground, shriveling as the soft white petals became soaked with blood.

She looked behind herself once more, seeing Drakken's lifeless body, abandoned. She felt a pang of remorse, but, before her mind could take her on a mental trip to the past, the clicking of Lilly's stilettos caught her attention. I'm sorry . . . And she sped along after her.


Beep beep beep-beep!

Kim moaned and rolled over sleepily. No, she was most certainly not in the mood to wake up and go to school. She knew very well that it was just Wade checking in to remind them that their ride would be picking them up in fifteen to take them back to Middleton High. Maybe she could just pretend to still be asleep . . . ?

Beep beep beep-beep!

She looked up to see Ron stirring as if he were to wake. She sighed, knowing that should she not answer it now, he'd hear it and rouse, probably only to nudge her until she did the same to answer the offending mechanism. Argh . . . She rolled over and dug the Kimmunicator out of the pocket on her utility belt.

Beep beep bee-!

"Go, Wade," Kim said softly, so as not to wake Ron, and then yawned enormously.

"Kim," Wade began in a more serious tone than that he would use to simply say 'Get dressed and go to school!' "We've got trouble."

Kim immediately sat up, brushing her hair from her face and rubbing sleepily at her eyes, although with those words, she was instantly awake. "What's the sitch?" She still spoke low, a habit when someone's asleep beside you.

"What do you think about missing another day of school?" Wade asked, although there was no joy or humor in his voice, as if he'd matured to twice his age.

"Another day off? Slammin'," she thought aloud. "But why?" She pulled the comforter that had fallen to her lap up around herself, fighting off the chill. "My parents won't be happy if they find out I missed an entire day of school for a mission." She pondered a bit on whether or not to take the responsible approach. Naturally, her Kim-ness told her to go to school and take the mission after, but the logical thought that she wouldn't be missing anything still nagged at her. Her parents' lectures still rattling on in her head, she sighed and relented, "Can't it wait?"

Suddenly busy typing on his multiple consoles, Wade explained, "I already discussed it with your parents. They said they're cool as long as I contact your teachers."

"And?" She shook the Kimmunicator a bit impatiently, curious as to what could be so important that Wade would request her missing school.

"And all of your teachers for today said you guys were watching Monty Python and-"

"And the Holy Grail?" she said, probably a bit more enthusiastically than she'd intended.

"Uh . . . yeah," he said, finishing off his calculations with a few expert keystrokes. "So there's no problem there. Everything's taken care of. Your ride'll be there in fifteen, so I'd beat Ron to the shower if I were you."

Kim considered explaining to Wade that she'd showered last night in an effort to both avoid Ron and get the kinks out of her hair (she always hated wearing wigs undercover for that very reason), but decided that Wade didn't need to know (and would probably be thoroughly disturbed if she told him) about Ron's and her bathing arrangements, especially when sharing a hotel room. "Yeah, sure," she said with a wave of her hand. "But what's so important? Another magical amulet needing recovery? Doomsday device to disarm? Those things have always waited before . . ."

"We've found Drakken's lair," he stated flatly, taking a distracted sip from his soda.

"Okay . . . so what makes this top priority?" She laughed a bit. "I mean, it's bad hero form to crash the villain's lair before there's anything suspicious going on." Her voice was filled with humor, but from the expression on Wade's face, she realized this was no laughing matter. "Wade, what's the sitch?" she said emphatically.

"There have been reports of weird happenings around his lair . . ."

"Oh, so he is up to something. So what is it this time? Strange heat signature readings? Reversed polarity in a mile's radius?"

"Screams . . ." he breathed, his mind somewhere far-off.

"Screams?" she quested, now somewhat aware of the seriousness of the situation.

"Horrible, mindless, pained screams. I think someone's trapped inside . . ." The magnitude of the situation seemed to bring out his true age. He was a kid, a brilliant kid, but still a kid, and he couldn't even begin to comprehend the agony he'd heard. He pressed a key on his keyboard, and instantly shrieks and cries for mercy erupted from the Kimmunicator, the voice so distorted in grief it wasn't even recognizable. Kim winced and lowered her eyes.

"We're on it," she said softly.

"Wade out," he murmured and the screen went black.

She sighed, settling her hands, along with the Kimmunicator, in her lap. Ron stirred and finally waked. "KP?" he asked upon opening his eyes. "What's wrong?" He tenderly laid a hand on hers.

She looked up at him and smiled sadly. "Oh, hey, Ron." She shifted to lean against him, her back firmly against his chest. Immediately accommodating her, he looped both his arms around her waist as she gathered her thoughts, her head turned to press her face into his pajama top. After a moment, she pursed her lips together before beginning to tell him all that Wade had told her. She did not look up to see his reaction, knowing very well that his face had paled and his jaw had dropped. This wasn't their average type of mission; it was a step up. But it also meant Drakken had taken the next step. Is he really torturing someone in there?

Once Kim had finished the tale, they sat in silence, Ron holding Kim protectively, allowing his fingers to soothe her abdomen through the fabric of her (well, really it was his) shirt. In an attempt to break the tension, he murmured, "I really hope this isn't another overnight mission."

She instantly smiled before turning to give him a convincing pout (although it was not quite up to par with the infamous Puppy Dog Pout). "Why's that?"

"Well," he began, "I don't think my parents are liking me spending the night with you multiple nights in a row." He squeezed her tightly. "Surprisingly, I don't think they're as trusting as your parents."

"My dad? Trusting?" She raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"I know. Shocking, isn't it?" He gave his best Falsetto Jones impression.

She chuckled before pressing a finger to his chest. "Our ride's going to be here in, like, ten." She sniffed him and grimaced. "And you need to take a shower."

He scooted back slightly in mock offense. "You don't like the way the Ronster smells?" And with no warning at all, he pinned down on the bed, leaning over her, only a breath away.

"No," she whispered, "I love it." And with that he cupped her cheek in his hand, bending down to kiss her tenderly, although chastely, on the lips.


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