1I don't own Kim Possible, dead or alive...but I wish I did:)
Kim lay awake in her bed, thinking. Not that she could sleep anymore; sleep wasn't something she needed.
Maybe, if enough people could see her, she'd be able to come back fully. The theory was plausible enough. Each time another person saw her, more of her senses came back, and she was able to function a bit more with the real world.
That basketball she'd caught all those weeks ago had been the first step. Before then, she'd been able to slide right through doors and every other solid thing in her path. After Ron and Monique had spotted her, the ball hadn't passed through her. Still, the power to go through things had come and gone for a few more weeks. She'd gradually been able to concentrate on things hard enough to touch them.
From the instant she had died and left her body, her only impulse had been to follow Ron. Believe me when I tell you...that I will never leave you. Her last words, her last request, granted by the spectral figure standing above her in her final moments. So she had followed Ron as if bound to him, which in fact, she was. At least, it seemed she had been until he'd seen her.
Ron had given her the ability to feel the things she touched. She had dreaded touching anything with her hands before that, because she could feel neither hot nor cold, hard nor soft. Yet, the moment she'd touched Ron, his soft hair and warm back, she could feel everything again.
She wasn't sure whether it had been Monique or her family that had brought back the ability to smell. Kim smiled to herself in the dark. She'd spent dinner sitting between Jim and Tim, alternately scratching their backs and pulling their hair; breathing deeply the smell of her mother's meatloaf.
Downstairs, she heard a small whining noise. Curious, she left her attic bedroom to see what was wrong. She followed the sound to Jim and Tim's room, where Tim was jerking around in his bed, whining.
"Tim?"
He didn't answer. Kim crossed to his bed and touched her brother's back.
"Tim?"
"No, mom, no. Not Kim..."
Kim frowned. She was back, why would he have nightmares about her?
"Tim, I'm okay. I'm right here," she soothed, rubbing his back. A sudden image of her mother and father looking down at her flooded her mind.
"Jim, Tim... Kim is gone."
Her father leaned down and picked her up. She turned her head to see Jim beside her in their mother's arms. She wasn't Kim right now. She was Tim.
"No, dad...please... Mom, can't you fix her?" Jim pleaded, crying.
"Make her all right, mom!" she heard Tim's voice say.
"I'm sorry kids, but that's not possible," murmured her mother.
"Anything's possible for a Possible!" wailed Tim. Kim felt hot tears sliding down her cheeks.
"Not this, Tim," whispered her father. "Not this."
Kim gasped and recoiled from Tim, who was now silent. She'd just stolen his memory of her death. She'd just stolen it... He wouldn't remember she had died when he woke up. To Tim, she was alive.
Alarmed at her abilities, Kim fled her brother's room, shaking. The memories. They were the key. If she could erase everyone's memories... No, it would be impossible to steal the memories of all her classmates, foes, and admirers. Perhaps just one of the memories was the key. One memory that would erase all the other's if eradicated. Kim frowned in the dark, then returned to her bedroom, anxious to see what Tim would think when he woke up.