Light, bright fluourescent light. The smell of many people. Shuffling sounds and giggling and papers rustling. A deep, authoritative voice bordering on the snide. A hard chair back pushing into her backpack. Cold wooden chair under her bare legs. Slowly, Kim's mind processed it all.
A gruff-looking man was standing in front of her, towering, glowering. "Backpack on already, Possible? That anxious to leave? Just remember, the bell doesn't dismiss this class, Steve Barkin dismisses this class. Comments?" Behind him was a blackboard, chalky assignments scratched onto its dirty surface.
Kim remembered. The hulking Mr. Barkin, perpetual substitute teacher, always eager to pounce on a student's shortcomings. "Sorry, Mr. Barkin," she managed in a rusty voice.
It had worked! She was in the past, before Professor Dementor's spray was released - she hoped.
Quickly, she glanced down at her watch. Rather than a normal digital or analog watch, it displayed a countdown, going from 52:11:52 to 52:11:51 as she watched. It was going to be tough getting into a deadline mindset.
As Barkin turned around, apparently satisfied by her subservient attitude, Kim heard a loud whisper from behind. "What's the matter, Kim, can't wait to get to your loser boyfriend again? Isn't he in detention again?" The voice was familiar, and at one time had been important to her, but not in a good way. Glancing back, she saw a curvy brunette with too much makeup and stylishly messy hair leaning toward her, a look of malice in her eyes. Bon. Bon-bon. Bonnie. Yes, that's who she was. Is. Bonnie Rockwaller, professional pain in the neck.
"Quiet in the trenches, Rockwaller," Barkin tossed over his shoulder. Smug, Bonnie sat back, arms crossed, point made. Barkin continued his lecture, but Kim paid it no attention.
She surreptitiously looked around the classroom. Rows of desks, each one containing a bored student feigning interest in the loud substitute teacher, were lined up to her left and behind her. The door was to her right, she was the closest. A quick count of rows and columns told Kim there were nearly 30 students in the room.
She hadn't been around so many people at once in a very, very long time.
Slowly, memories of Middleton High came seeping back as she studied every detail of the room. Bright fluourescent lights beat down on her, rather than the gentle yellow sunshine to which she was far more accustomed; her eyes began hurting until she squinted to cut the glare. Every detail of the room received her scrutiny, from the feel of the wood and metal school desk, to the sight of a pencil sharpener hanging loosely from a wall, to the scuffed linoleum below her sneaker-clad feet. At first, she couldn't tell whether the clock showed that class had just begun or was almost over, but soon the memory recall techniques she'd learned over the centuries provided her with the datum that class was due to end in just a few minutes. Other memories began cascading over her, triggered by layered hierarchical memory recall methods. The hall layout, schedules, teachers, fellow students, images and memories flipped through her mind quickly. Kim captured the memory dump with what little capacity she had left in her wetware, the better to be able to sift through at will or at need.
Cafeteria food. Josh Mankey. Ron Stoppable. School picture day. Cheerleading. Ron. Monique. Bonnie Rockwaller. Brick Flagg. Miss Hatchet. Ron.
The bell startled her back into the present - or her past, it was confusing. But she was here, now, and had to figure out where to be next. Actually, that part was easy. As soon as Barkin granted permission to leave, she bounced up from her seat and dashed through the door into the hall. Despite her impatience, the thought of leaving early never occurred to her.
Thirty students sitting orderly was one thing, but a hallway of bustling humanity was more than Kim had prepared herself for. She flattened herself against a row of lockers and watched the frantic tide of teenage flesh flow by, until she steeled herself into diving in. Kim, who never thought of herself as claustrophobic, thought she finally knew what it must be like to feel hemmed in, unable to breathe; even when she had been shut in a box and thrown into a water-filled chasm, Kim had never before felt quite so confined.
While she walked, she triggered a search of her recalled memories, looking for a specific bit of data. It had been important to her back when she first was part of this life, and it was even more vital now. Buffeted by students, Kim staggered along until her search returned a result, and she veered into another hallway, striding quickly among the throng. The room she sought was near the end of the hall, and she finally burst through the door, eyes scanning the milling group clustered around cooking utensils along one wall.
One butter-yellow head of messy hair stood out to her, his back turned to Kim as he confidently showed other students how to use a multi-speed mixer. Her heart thumped loudly as she stepped up behind him. She almost dared not say anything, for fear of the moment bursting like the bubble of a dream on waking. After a couple of seconds she drew a deep breath, swallowed through a dessicated throat, and said his name.
"Ron."
Butter-yellow hair snapping up, Ron twirled and smiled warmly. "KP, what's up? Aren't you supposed to be in chem class?"
The reality of meeting his eyes after tens of thousands of years of loneliness nearly overwhelmed Kim. He was on another planet, unbearably far away - and standing right in front of her. Her heart pounded until she thought it would burst; what would she say? She'd lain awake night after night, dreaming of this encounter, this fantasy, and in her mind's eye he had always swept her off her feet, looked deep into her eyes, kissed her passionately.
Not stand in front of her with a goofy grin, as if he'd just seen her an hour before.
But of course, he had just seen her. This Ron hadn't lived the centuries of nearly unbearable solitude, hadn't been anchored to life and hope at the slimmest possibility of reunion. The Ron in front of her was mortal, and young, and goofy, and was exactly as she remembered and loved. Kim grabbed the front of his maroon shirt and pulled him close, kissed him squarely on the lips, hard.
Ron, eyes wide in embarrasment, put his hands tenderly on Kim's bare shoulders and pulled out of the kiss, away from Kim's hungry stare. "Whoa there, Kim, glad to see you too, but hey, isn't this a little public?" He glanced nervously at the rest of the class, most of whom were watching the pair openly and smiling, some giggling. Most were girls, and one or two looked a little jealous, a couple of others contemptuous. "Not that I object, but don't you think it's a little awkward to be tonsil wrestling during Home Ec class?"
Unable to break away from looking at Ron, Kim backed slowly away and pulled him out the door to the nearly deserted hall. Classes were apparently just about to begin, and Kim was bound to be late, but that was hardly on her list of worries. Dragging him into a shallow alcove near a water fountain, Kim once again brought her face close to Ron. The object of her affection was still reticent, and had a slight worried tone as he asked, "Are you all right, KP? I miss you too, but lunchtime's just after class. If you need some lip service, I was thinkin' we could take a quick break out at our special spot by the bleachers, if you want..." Kim shut off his blathering by kissing him soundly again, this time with less force but more intensity. Ron responded automatically, his arms coming up behind her back, pulling her closer.
This kiss exceeded all of Kim's fantasies about her reunion with Ron Stoppable.
It might have gone on forever save for the bell that signalled the beginning of class. Reluctantly, Ron pulled away, gently pushing himself away from Kim's strong embrace. "Ron, I..." Kim began, but didn't know what to say. None of the things she desperately wanted to tell him were appropriate. This Ron hadn't left her to go to another planet; hadn't lied to her about Yori; hadn't spent a pair of lifetimes as Kim's partner, her love, her other half, hadn't been marooned apart from her for a geologic age. The intimate bond they shared during two centuries after this time was still being formed for this Ron. Anything she said now could change that. So she said nothing.
"No worries, Kim, I'll meet you right after class. Are you sure you're OK?" he asked, obviously worried about her odd behavior. She nodded, not breaking eye contact. He smiled, kissed her forehead, and said, "OK then, Kimbaya, until next time we meet. Gotta go, I'm late!" He pulled away and sped back down the empty hall. "Later, KP!"
Kim watched her love scoot down the hall and enter the classroom, wincing as he bounced the rapidly-opened door off his foot. Ever the klutz, Ron waved a final farewell and quickly closed the door behind him.
Kim wandered the halls of Middleton High, ignorning chem class. She was amused that she felt slightly guilty about ditching the class, but after all, she was saving the world. Again. Ah, how wonderful it felt to be thinking that way again!
Her feet brought her to the library. Spying an unused Internet terminal, she sat down and clumsily began typing; keyboards were long gone in her time. It took only a few minutes to verify the date and time, and she was relieved to see she had a good window of time to get to Dementor and foil him. The fated encounter, if this reality followed the previous version, would be less than two hours before she was due to be yanked into this world's future, whatever that might be. It was tight, especially if things didn't go well. Her vague contingency plans had very little room for delay.
"Library pass, Miss Possible!" a harsh voice boomed behind her. Kim jumped, startled at the sudden intrusion. She looked back, and up, at the imposing bulk of the librarian, Miss Hatchet. The woman had her hand stuck out, waiting for Kim's pass. Kim noticed thick dark hairs sprouted from the back of the large woman's knuckles.
Nonplussed, Kim stuttered, "Uh, I didn't, er... I'm not really supposed to be here," she admitted, her truthful nature hard to submerge. "Just wanted to get in a little extra study time," she said truthfully.
"Wait right there while I write you up!" Miss Hatchet rasped, stalking toward her fortress-like desk. Not wanting to get her younger self in more trouble when she returned, Kim meekly sat still and accepted the hastily penned rebuke. "No pass, no library privileges during class hours. No exceptions!" she told Kim, ushering her toward the door.
That went well, Kim thought to herself sarcastically.
At least she had a little more data to work with. She pondered what to do next as she wandered the hallways. Her locker seemed a good place to hide and think. Try as she might, though, she couldn't remember her locker combination. Standing, twiddling the lock, she let her fingers twist the dial this way and that. She was amused that her fingers seemed to know what they were doing, and was startled when the locker door popped open. Muscle memory - after fifty millenia. Intriguing.
The computer inside was dusty, an older model. A pair of shirts hung beside the monitor, a bit of jewelry tucked into corners, a few odds and ends taped to the inner door. The sight brought back powerful recollections... she shared her first real kiss with Ron outside a locker like this (though she had been under the influence of a mood-altering device at the time, that didn't diminish how she felt about it). The faded "Wanted" poster of Shego taped to the door also conjured thoughts of fighting, verbal ripostes, a powerful rivalry. The more memories tripped through her wetware, the closer, more attuned to this time she felt.
She had more than a full day to kill before the call would come for her to rush to Dementor's lair in the Mediterranean.
Kim pondered calling Wade, just to say hi, but it seemed out of character for her busy, younger self. One thing the techs from her future had drummed into her was to retain character, don't do anything to mess up what was to be. She found that ironic, considering her entire reason for being here was to change what was to be. But she understood and agreed with them that her actions needed to be consistent with the younger Kim. No big, right?
The bell sounded again. Kim hadn't realized how much time she'd spent standing in front of her open locker. As students streamed out of classes, most headed toward the cafeteria, although some went to the park outside. Anticipating Ron's presence, she headed for the football bleachers.
Ron was waiting for her in their special spot. Restraining herself, Kim flowed into Ron's arms and hugged him. When he started to speak, she looked at him and shook her head, kissed him lightly. He took the hint and kissed back.
Although she wanted more, much more, Kim contented herself with Ron's presence and obvious affection. At this point in their relationship, so many long centuries ago buried in her memory, they'd been a romantic yet chaste couple for half a year, and had not yet experimented with more mature pleasures. Both felt a keen sense of responsibility and honor, and neither would even contemplate making their relationship more intimate before they were both ready. And then there was the matter of Kim's father, Ron, and a spaceship to a black hole... Kim always thought her Dad was kidding. She hoped.
After long minutes of blissful kisses, she broke away and looked at her young boyfriend. Oh, how young. It was difficult not seeing the Ron she knew, the one she'd let leave so long ago, in his eager face. This Ron's face held no recriminations, no broken promises, no regret, no deep pain or shadow. His eyes sparkled in anticipation of an eventful life with Kim, an eagerness to grow into their relationship. She couldn't disappoint him.
"Ron, I want to warn you, I may be acting a little weird for a while. It's nothing bad," she said, hoping she wasn't lying, "but if I do anything out of the ordinary, please don't take it personally, OK?"
Puzzled, he said, "Sure, whatever you say. You know I trust you."
Leaning up against him, Kim's eyes grew wide for a moment, and then she gave Ron a coy smile. "Is that a naked mole rat in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?" It was an old joke she'd just remembered, but couldn't recall when they began teasing with that particular tone. It might be too early.
Ron's face turned beet red. "Yes." Too early. But she noted his honesty in answering.
Kim laughed and snuggled him closer, until Ron's stomach growled. "Man, smooching builds a powerful appetite! Let's go see what they've reserved for us at the senior table!" he said, pulling Kim along to the cafeteria.
The rest of the school day passed dreamily for Kim. Her classes were all with Ron, and she paid little attention to whatever the subject matter the teacher was discussing. He sat next to her in most of them, and she couldn't help stealing glances his way once in a while. Ron caught her sneaking peeks, and he squirmed a bit, uncomfortable at Kim's attention. She told herself to knock it off, and tried desperately not to ogle her boyfriend. Even the thought of what she was here to do didn't douse her joy at being with him again, even if only for a little while.
Cheerleader practice after school was humiliating. After trying a few basic routines, Kim handed the practice to Tara and sat on a bench, claiming fatigue. So much for muscle memory. The others, being adolescent girls, gossiped and laughed a little about their leader's dismal performance, especially Bonnie. Ron practiced his Mad Dog routine in a corner.
Kim leaned back, watching the squad perform their routine. So much happening, so many things going on, so quickly... whenever she stopped to think about her mission, and compare this life with one far longer and emptier, she had some trouble remembering what was real, what was now, what was yet to come. Everybody moved with a purpose, with definition in their stride, or at least that's how Kim perceived it.
This must be what being an oracle is like, she thought. Dizzy with memories that haven't happened yet.
After practice, the pair walked home hand in hand, stopping off at Ron's first, which was slightly closer to school. Although she didn't want to part from him, she had to face people she hadn't seen in far too long, and she needed her focus. They talked of seeing each other tomorrow, Saturday, and what they would do with their weekend. Kim knew those plans would not come true. Kissing him good night, she continued walking "home" through the late fall afternoon.
Her watch showed 45 hours, 22 minutes and a few seconds until she left this world behind.