"Kimmie, you haven't touched a bite of your meatloaf," her mother chided.
Kim sat motionless at the dinner table, surrounded by her family: Dad on the right, Mom on the left, twin brothers across from her. The tweebs were bent over something, scheming as always, and Dad was distracted with some project he kept scrolling up and down on his tablet, absently forking meatloaf into his mouth and missing half the time. Mom, the most perceptive, had paused with fork halfway to her mouth to comment on Kim's immobility.
It all seemed so normal, so matter of fact. She hoped she wasn't showing her feelings on her face, because inside, her emotions ran strong and conflicted.
She'd allowed herself to suppress just how important her family was to her, how much they meant. In her own time, they'd all fallen long before she was whisked back to this time and place. But now, faced with the mundane setting of a dinner table, her memories pounced at her, distracting her from even speaking without breaking out crying.
And the thought of actually eating meat made her borderline nauseous.
Although she disliked doing it, Kim tweaked a pair of little-used subroutines in her wetware, letting them calm her, slow the release of certain chemicals in her body and brain, ease her breathing, slow her whirling thoughts into a coherent pattern. She knew she visibly sagged at the table, but couldn't stop herself.
Her mother, noting the sudden change in her daughter - from tense and wide-eyed to nearly comatose - asked with some concern, "Honey, are you all right? Have you been on too many missions lately?" She paused, halfway reaching across to her daughter, and asked another question that was uncomfortable but obvious. "Have you done anything you need to tell me about, Kim?" Her father cocked an eyebrow and shifted his glance in Kim's direction.
Kim took a deep breath and shook her head. Looking up, she forced a weak smile and reached out to take her mothers hovering hand. "No Mom, I'm fine. I'm just... tired. It's been a long day." Which was all technically true, and Kim was fatigued.
Her mother's sharp eyes searched Kim's face, but found no hint of a lie. Kim had always been very bad at lying to her mother, and ever since a certain Halloween, she'd made every effort to be scrupulously honest. Kim smiled a bit at that... even when they were all several thousand years older, Kim had found it nearly impossible to fib to her parents. Not telling them everything now was more difficult than she'd thought it would be. But she knew she couldn't say anything.
Gripping her mother's hand tightly, she leaned over and gave her a quick but strong hug. "I love you," she whispered. Before her mother could react, Kim leaned the other way and did the same to her father. "Love you too, Daddy," she told him, meaning it deeply.
She'd missed them both so much.
Sitting back, ignoring her parents' puzzled glances, Kim picked up a piece of broccoli, dipped it in ranch dressing and ate it slowly. Directly in front of her, the twin dweebs were ignoring the mini-drama before them in favor of their own plots; heads together, they whispered back and forth in a semi-secret code language, pointing to a complicated crayon-drawn diagram spread on the table between them. Kim watched them idly, remembering just how much trouble they were to keep safe and sound.
Too young to make wise decisions, too bright to ignore the possibilities they saw in an inviting universe, they continually spread equal amounts of genius and havoc in their wake. Kim knew that her parents, both very bright and very patient, would spend the better part of a hundred centuries riding herd on the two ever-young hellions. Some of the things they came up with would be brilliant and go into service helping their fellow man, including some small parts of the wetware even now buried deep within Kim's immortal body. Other inventions and schemes they cooked up would often be averted from disaster by mere inches. Kim herself had spent considerable time monitoring their activities.
But it hadn't been enough, she remembered. It only took one time, one error, one overlooked glitch, to cause the tweebs to fall. She'd been busy replanting trees in upper Russia when Kim got word of the explosion at the lunar research station. It was visible even in daylight... the entire crater of Tycho, its bright rayed ejecta covering a substantial portion of the southern visible lunar hemisphere, glowed red for days as massive energies propelled suddenly-liquified lunar regolith into space. Kim had taken advantage of some favors still owed her by an ungrateful public to commandeer one of the few remaining supersonic aircraft back to Middleton, where her parents were nearly hysterical. The twins had been doing research on compressing matter into dense neutronium; they'd been exiled to Tycho base for safety purposes, even after crossing their hearts and hoping to die promising they'd be really, really careful. They offered to even let Kim stay with them to make sure, but she demurred, saying she didn't know enough about what they were doing to keep them out of trouble.
Apparently, they hadn't been careful enough.
Kim's parents had been devastated. Their main purpose to that point was to nurture and protect their brilliant offspring, which they'd done for far longer than nearly any other parents with young children. She consoled her parents as best she could, staying with them in a house suddenly too big and too empty, trying to help them as best she could. There was never any recrimination against Kim, never any blame, no accusation. But nevertheless, Kim carried a huge weight of guilt, even knowing she would almost certainly not been able to prevent the accident had she been there, and she would have perished as well. It was years before she could sleep without waking at least once from a nightmare of vacuum and magma, silent screams, brilliant slow-motion explosions on the dead moon's face.
Slowly, inexorably, her parents spent more and more time in solitude, becoming less focused on the real world and more accustomed to thinking of the past. No words would reach them, no begging or threatening or pleading changed their actions. Kim's mother was the first to go, refusing to eat. She passed away in Kim's lap, Kim's tears falling on her mother's still form. Her father did the same a few days later. Kim herself contemplated following her parents, but her stubborn nature refused to simply let go.
Raucous laughter from across the table dragged her thoughts back to dinner, as the tweebs clamped their mouth shut and shot Kim a guilty look. Apparently they'd been devising some mischief for their sister and, in their sneakily open way, were plotting its implementation. Kim felt dizzy for a moment, the memory of her long-fallen brothers contrasting sharply with their snickering reality sitting within food-flinging distance.
She was going to change the future. The tweebs would remain mortal, grow up, get married, do some unspeakably brilliant things, grow old, watch their grandchildren, and eventually pass away to be replaced by future generations.
Her stomach somewhat settled by the veggie snack, Kim pushed back her now-cold plate of meatloaf. "May I be excused?" she asked politely.
Mom and Dad glanced at each other, and at their daughter, who appeared to be in a more normal mood. "Of course, honey," her mother said. "But remember, you and I have a talk scheduled for tonight. Faking being sick isn't going to get you out of it, young lady." She waggled a finger at Kim meaningfully.
Kim's face was blank for a moment, then she hung an "oh yeah" face on and asked, "Right, what time was that again?" She had no idea what her mother was talking about.
"One hour from now. You. Me. The den. Boys, you'll be busy then, right?" The doctor looked pointedly at her husband and younger children, who all looked uncomfortable.
"You bet, hon," the rocket scientest said, giving a weak thumbs-up. "Jim and Tim and I will be doing some extra-curricular studies at the robot rumble."
"Hoo-sha!" the two boys said in unison.
Kim stood, folded her napkin neatly, and quickly walked around the table. She stopped suddenly, squatted between the chairs holding her two brothers, and gave them a quick, unexpected hug from behind. "You little tweebs," she said, but in a wistful tone, not at all accusing or mocking. "Way too bright for your own good, you know that?" She straightened up, looked back at their puzzled and slightly revolted stares. "Just be careful when you play with this stuff, hear me? I don't want to have to..." her voice broke for a moment, but she recovered quickly. "To hold Mom and Dad together if you do something stupid." She turned, about to leave, but twisted her head back for one last comment. "And remember - neutronium is not a toy, got it?" She wasn't sure why she said that, since it couldn't have a bearing on their lives after she foiled Dementor. But it made her feel a little better. A little. She scooted out of the dining room, entirely missing the puzzled and worried glances her family exchanged.
Her room. Every detail, every nuance, every item was exactly how she remembered. The blue walls, the telescope at the window, her phone and computer, everything. Exactly, perfectly placed. Kim leaned against the wall, door closed, and felt an indefinable loosening of tension in her gut. This room, more than any other, was what she had missed for ninety nine percent of her life.
Home.
She belonged here, felt at peace. Her future wanderings brought her to many luxurious homes and hotels, but they all belonged to someone else, with Kim a guest at best, more often an unwelcome intruder. This single four-walled space was a refuge, clearly and starkly defined in her mind as sanctuary.
She'd only spent a couple of decades in this room before moving out, with Ron, to tackle the problems of an immortal world. But those few years were so deeply ingrained into her that she dreamed of this room, or whatever this room represented, at least once a week for her entire fifty thousand years of life. There was nowhere else that came close to being secure and safe as this small bedroom - not even Monique's tidy little house on a hill in future Seattle, nestled under oak trees.
Kim slowly walked around the room, touching things, brushing a bit of dust off here and there, letting her fingers and mind revel in the feeling of her room, her nest, her sanctuary.
Sitting on her bed, Kim simply sat and drank in the feeling. It was a pity she never found out how to record her feelings, she would loved to have saved this moment for a later time when she needed it. The next best thing was taking a full-sensory recording, although she had scarce capacity left for more than a minute's worth. It was worth it, though; so Kim stood, closed her eyes, opened them, and began recording as she looked around the room, walked and stroked things that had always been precious to her. Panderoo with shiny spots where it had been oft-loved; the phone where she spent hours talking with Monique and Ron; the posters and reminders of successful past missions; her fuzzy bathrobe and comfortable slippers; the embroidered pillow Nana gave her for her 12th birthday; the romantic, handmade card Ron gave her on their first day as high school seniors, clumsily written but signed with care; other items that stirred memories and emotions. Nearly full to capacity, Kim looked out the window, slowly closed her eyes, and stopped the recording.
That was worth the price of admission.
Kim spent the rest of the hour scouring her room, rediscovering hidden and misplaced items that each triggered a smile, or sometimes a hastily brushed away tear.
A soft knock sounded on her door. "Kimmie? Ready." Her mother's footsteps quietly faded as she walked downstairs, and Kim heard the garage door close as her father drove the tweebs to their date with a robot. Reluctantly, Kim put down a cheerleading award which she'd been examining, and followed her mother downstairs.
The lights were dim in the den, large plasma TV off, blinds drawn against chilly October air. Kim's mother sat primly on a couch, a small bag perched unobtrusively next to her. Still not quite remembering what their conversation was supposed to be about, Kim walked over and sat next to her mother. "OK, I'm ready. I guess."
Her mother looked at her closely in the dim light. "Kim, you seem distracted tonight. Is there anything you'd like to discuss before we talk about the other thing?"
"It's not really something I can talk about right now," Kim said slowly. She didn't want to lie, but she certainly couldn't tell the truth. "It's kind of... confidential right now. I promised I wouldn't say anything until... well, for a while." For fifty thousand years. She looked back at her mother, saw the concern in her face, and wanted to reassure her somehow. "But I promise it's nothing bad, or illegal, or anything like that. It's not drugs or alcohol, I haven't been hanging around with the wrong crowd, I'm doing good in school. I just have a couple of things I need to do in the next few days." She hoped that would satisfy and reassure her mother, who understood about confidentiality.
It seemed to satisfy, at least for now. Nodding, her mother sat back and thought before speaking again. "Since Ron's busy with his folks tonight, I thought now is a perfect time for us to discuss the practical aspects of your relationship with him." Kim's eyes got wide. Oh no...
She hadn't forgotten this talk, not at all. She'd just forgotten when it had taken place. Tonight?
Her mother continued. "I know you and he have always been close, and you know your father and I trust your judgment. Otherwise we wouldn't allow you to go on missions with Ron, alone and unsupervised. And now that you and Ron are officially girlfriend and boyfriend, I need to make sure that you stay happy and healthy. I'm going to ask some questions and I want your promise that you will be absolutely honest with me. I'll answer any question you ask honestly, too, even if it's personal, since I want you to trust me. I'm your mother, and a doctor, and I don't want you to make any bad or uninformed decisions."
Kim searched her mother's honest, open face as she waited for her daughter's answer. Kim couldn't lie, she would answer exactly as well as she could... as her 17-year-old daughter. Not as a time-travelling fifty-thousand-year-old woman bent on changing the course of history. "I promise, Mom."
Smiling, her mother leaned forward again and took her daughter's clenched fists in her own small hands. "Good, honey. This is important." She sat up straighter and Kim could see the professional doctor poise switch on in her mother's eyes. "First question: are you still a virgin?"
Now there was an opening shot, close across the bow. If it were anybody else, they'd get a fist in the kisser. "Yes." She had been, at this point.
Her mother didn't shift position, but Kim could tell she was pleased with the answer. "Have you and Ron gone beyond kissing?"
This one was harder. Kim sent a quick search query to see what the timeframe had been in her relationship with Ron. Fortunately, Dementor's release of the anagathic spray was a memorable event so she was able to determine a reasonable cutoff time for the search. Results came back shortly. "We, uh, we've done some heavy petting." She thought more deeply. "And when we switched bodies, we each did some investigation when we changed clothes, but that was separately." That had been a singularly embarrasing conversation with Ron.
Her mother nodded. "I'd be worried if you hadn't," she said. "So far so good." The questions continued, probing Kim's physical and mental history. Each was embarrasing, but Kim answered as truthfully as she could, as her search results allowed her to answer. After a while her mother wound down.
"Just one more loaded question, honey," she told her daughter. "Do you love Ron?"
Kim didn't hesitate. No search was needed for this one. "Yes. Deeply."
Dropping the physician demeanor, Kim's mother leaned forward and hugged her daughter hard. "I'm so happy for you, Kimmie. Ron's very sweet." Kim hugged back, blinking back tears of her own.
"Are there any questions you want to ask me? I told you I'd answer honestly."
The first time they'd had this conversation, in Kim's long past, she'd been far too nerve-wracked to take advantage, but this really was a golden opportunity. She was much more ready to probe her mother's past now than she had been... before.
"Actually, Mom, I do have a few questions," she started. Her mother took a deep breath and nodded for her daughter to go on. "When was your first time? And how?"
The petite redhead sat back and blinked at her daughter's one-two punch. "Well, I was 16, he was 17. We were in the back of a VW minivan, and we'd been going together for three months. We talked about it, and one night I got some contraceptives and we did it. It was my first time, but not his. I was scared, and it wasn't very fun, not the first time, but it was much better the second. For me anyway." A small smile tugged at her lips. "I didn't stay the night. I went home and the first thing I did was wake up my mother and tell her everything."
"What did she say?"
"She congratulated me on using birth control, and for being honest. Then she grounded me for not telling her beforehand."
"Wow," Kim replied, fascinated and appalled at the same time. "What happened to Dad? Did he get in trouble?"
Eyes not meeting her, Kim's mother winced and said, "I hadn't actually met your father yet."
"Oh." Eyes huge. Why Mom, you little... !
Her mother saw the look. "Don't you even start on me, young lady," she rebuked. "It's actually healthy to have had more than one partner before settling down," she said in a less heated tone. "But I would like to remind you that this is a private conversation. Just between us. Understand?"
Kim understood, and stopped herself from laughing out loud. "You mean Dad doesn't know...?"
"You know your father. He's a bit tightly wound when the subject comes up. If he'd ever asked I would have told him. But he never asked. I tried to let him know, but he always weaseled out of the conversation before I could say anything."
One more, just one more question. "Were you Dad's first?"
Evidently regretting her decision to be honest, Kim's mother stared at her daughter for a full minute before answering. "Yes. But if I ever, ever catch you using that on him, I'll shave you bald and paint a smily face in surgical ink on the back of your skull. Got it?"
Grinning hugely, Kim nodded. "Loud and clear, Mom."
Her mother reached back and picked up the small bag. She poured several types of prophylactics onto the coffee table. "When the time comes, I want you to be properly prepared," she said. "This is not license to do whatever you want, but when you do decide the time is right, you'll at least have some tools at your disposal." Kim noticed her mom had said "when" and not "if". Ever practical, her mother. "I'll be happy to explain how to use the ones you don't understand."
Looking at her mother, sitting with her hands folded and a determined look on her face, Kim felt immense empathy for her. Kim was older, far older, than the woman who'd given her life, and had experienced far more diverse things in that time than her mother ever would. But Kim would never, ever have a child of her own, never be able to have this sort of talk. Never be able to help someone who you loved, cared about, help them grow and learn.
Kim would trade all her years for a few decades of being able to experience growing up, giving birth, growing old, watching and helping and learning, preparing her descendants for their journey through life.
"Thanks, Mom. For everything."
Saturday morning was cold but clear. Leaves were making their journey from tree limbs to the ground when Kim stepped out into the brisk air on her way to Middleton Park. She wore a light jacket and her mission backpack, but left her hair to fly free in the breeze. Ron was due to meet her for a park cleanup day.
Walking to the park, she watched with fascination as cars zoomed around the streets, seemingly anxious to get wherever they were going. A few other pedestrians were out jogging, walking their dogs, or plowing through the weather head down, huddled into their coats for warmth. Everybody had something to do, some place to be, in their journey through the ticking clocks of their lives.
Surprisingly, Ron was already at the park by the time Kim arrived. She walked up quietly behind him and gave him a bear hug. Startled, Ron yelled, "Gah! Sneak attack!" He turned in Kim's arms. "KP! Don't do that, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" Kim simply smiled at him and kissed him soundly. "Now that's the way to warm up on a cold fall morning!" he enthused. He became more serious. "Did you have 'the talk' with your parents?"
Kim was impressed with her younger self for not keeping it a secret from her boyfriend. "Yes. It went fine. I got some good dirt on the 'rents, not that I can ever use it. And my Mom showed me how to use all the protective products we'd ever need. When the time comes." The irony of that wasn't lost on Kim, who needed them less than anyone.
Ron's face went red, and Kim suspected it was not from the chilly breeze. "Um, yeah, good to know," he said in one quick breath. "Hey, wanna help me with these bags? We've got a real litterbug problem here." Disengaging himself from Kim's embrace, Ron handed her a pointy stick and garbage cleanup bag. Kim found Ron's reticence to discuss more intimate relations very refreshing, and extremely Ronnish. She took the stick and started poking at refuse.
They spent a few chilly hours picking up trash, exchanging small talk, enjoying the time together. The activity strongly reminded Kim of the pair of centuries she spent with Ron after... well, after this weekend. They had a task, and each other, and that was enough to satisfy. Kim firmly shoved the thought of deadlines to the back of her mind and enjoyed the brief time she was getting to spend with Ron.
At the playground, Kim watched children with their mothers and fathers. It was a scene she hadn't witnessed for far too long. Squealing laughter rang in the clear air, and young children, from toddlers to middle schoolers, raced around the barkdust, pushed swings, crawled around the monkey bars.
Kim's world had no playgrounds.
Pausing in her cleanup efforts, Kim tapped her boyfriend gently on the shoulder and nodded at the playground. "Fun to watch, isn't it?" she asked him.
Ron stopped poking at fast food wrappers and glanced over at the loud mayhem that was the playground. "Sure, I guess, if you've got good earplugs," he replied, spearing another wrapper and depositing it in his rapidly filling bag. "Why the sudden interest in ankle-biters, KP?" His eyes suddenly got big, and he stared at his redheaded girlfriend, gulping loudly. "You're not thinking about... um... kids and family stuff already? Are you?" Kim had never seen him so beet red or at a loss for words. "I mean, that talk with your Mom and all..." he trailed off, clearly close to panic.
Laughing, Kim hugged him with one arm and reassured him, "No, nothing like that. Don't worry, my biological clock isn't close to going off." And how, she thought. "I was just thinking, though... it's pretty cool to watch families out and around, see the kids getting older, I think we just take stuff like that for granted sometimes."
Ron, slightly less red in the face but still wary, raised an eyebrow. "Yeaaaaahhhhh."
Although she'd made up her mind to come back and change the future, change a sterile, immortal human race for a thriving, mortal version, Kim still had doubts. Ron, while sometimes exhibiting situational ethics that disturbed Kim, was basically a very moral person, and she deeply valued his opinion. She couldn't come right out and ask him what he thought, but maybe she could paraphrase, get his thoughts on her situation without revealing that she wasn't entirely who he thought she was.
She turned to face him. "Doesn't it strike you as weird that we live so short a time? We're born, grow up, have kids of our own, and then fade away in just a few years. Wouldn't it be better to live longer, even if you couldn't have kids? Would you pick a short, eventful life or a longer but boring one?" Maybe it was a little too direct, but Ron usually missed subtlety by a mile.
The young man continued eyeing her with a raised eyebrow, and answered slowly. "I dunno, KP. Seems pretty natural to me. Sure, I'd love to live forever, who wouldn't? But then there'd be the overcrowding, the huge lines at the Bueno Nacho counter, there'd be people everywhere! Where's the fun in that?" He turned and faced Kim face to face. "You've been weirding out lately. Come on, Kim, what gives? Is something wrong? Like, with... you, and kids, and stuff?"
"No, that's not what I'm getting at," she said quickly, even though it hit very close to the mark. She looked back over at the busy playground. "I just, I don't know, have been thinking about the bigger picture for a while, and wanted to see what you thought." She couldn't meet his eyes for fear of the lie by omission being caught.
Ron obviously wasn't mollified, but let her slide. "Well, if there's anything you need to talk about... anything we need to talk about... I'm here for ya." He looked back at the kids for a minute. "If something's going on, like, oh, I don't know, you found out you had leukemia or something, I hope you would tell me." His worried face looked back at Kim, searching, very serious.
Forcing a smile, Kim looked back and said, "No, nothing like that. Don't be so melodramatic." She gave him a tight hug and brief kiss, then turned away and began picking up trash again. After a few moments, Ron followed suit, watching her carefully.
The rest of the pickup went uneventfully. After finishing, the pair turned in their sticks and sacks and walked to Bueno Nacho, hand in hand. Ron forced cheerfulness into his tone when he spoke with Kim. "Hey, how about a Naco? Litter patrol takes a lot out of a guy."
"Sounds good."
The streets were busy again, even more cars speeding along than earlier. She walked along the sidewalk, head resting on Ron's shoulder, thoughts still whirling about her mission. The more she thought about it, the more she felt stopping Dementor was the right thing to do. These people deserved a chance to live fully, and Kim could give them that chance.
She would give them that chance.
Determined more than ever by the time they reached their accustomed fast food haunt, Kim's mood improved enough to jolly Ron out of his suspicions. They ate lunch side by side, as they had taken to doing since becoming a couple, and talked about what they would do on their date that evening.
Kim remembered the date all too well. She'd been wearing a beautiful but impractical skirt when the call came in to fly to Dementor's lair, and the evening had turned into a total bust even before they left Middleton. But at least she had until nearly midnight tonight before Wade was due to call. Kim wouldn't be as unprepared this time.
Ron excused himself to visit the men's room, and Kim dug out her Kimmunicator. Ignoring the extra gadgets embedded in the device, she placed a call for Wade, who answered promptly. "Hi Kim, what up?" He hadn't changed at all from her memories - same wide, smiling face, intelligent eyes, eager to help. Kim smiled back.
"Hey Wade, I was talking with somebody about a mission a while ago, and I couldn't remember something. Think you could look it up for me?" she asked casually. A vague contingency plan, one of several, was forming in her mind, but she needed to prepare.
"You bet. What do you need?" She told him, and he nodded. "No prob, here you go." A short series of numbers flashed on the screen, which she captured and saved both on the device and in her wetware.
"Thanks Wade. No end to how much you rock." The young genius preened at her compliment, and signed off.
Kim put the Kimmunicator away as Ron emerged from the mens room, toilet paper clinging to his shoe. Grinning a little, she pointed it out, and he absently scuffed it off.
"What's up? Is there a mission?" he asked, having seen her use the Kimmunicator.
"No, just chatting with Wade," she fibbed to him.
"Cool. So, where were we? Oh yeah. So I was thinking tonight we need to visit that new French restaurant, the one where they've got frogs legs and things I can't pronounce," he said. "Dressy, but you clean up nice."
"Sure, I'd love to." In a pants suit this time. "What time? And please tell me we're not going to be on the scooter."
Ron smiled. "Got it all worked out, KP. Dad's loaning me the car, so you won't freeze your pretty little legs off.
"It's a date then," he said when she nodded. "A date date."
"A date date. With Ron Stoppable."
"Muy excelente."
True to his word, Ron picked Kim up at 8 sharp in his Dad's 10-year-old sedan. She'd dressed in a sensible yet attractive pants suit with flaring legs and warm blouse. She also toted her mission backpack, which contained what she'd need to confront Dementor. Ron frowned at the bag, but didn't question it. He'd seen it often enough, and he had one like it stashed in the back, although his version lacked certain specialized, futuristic equipment.
Ron was wearing a pair of slacks that looked slightly too big for him, and a shirt that Kim had picked out for him a while ago. The younger Kim had picked out, she reminded herself. It looked good on him, although he wore it somewhat self-consciously. He gave Kim an appreciative whistle when he saw her, and Kim was pleased with her choice. Hopefully nothing other than her attire would be different from the first time she lived this evening, until they were called to pay a visit to Dementor.
Dinner started out wonderful. Ron tried his best, but mispronounced every French word on the menu. Kim was amused at the pain in the waiter's eyes as he tried desperately not to correct the struggling blond youth. Eventually they were served a fine meal, which was beyond anything Kim had had in a very long time. It was only near dessert that things started going downhill.
"Kim, is that who I think it is?" Ron stage whispered.
She didn't need to even look, she'd heard the distinctive voices moments before. "I'm afraid so. Good thing we ate first, or I'd be nauseous."
A shrill voice became louder as two people were led into the section of the restaurant by a harrassed-looking waiter. "That table's not by a window. I specifically said it had to be right next to a window. Brick, tell him he's got it all wrong!"
"Madamoiselle, I regret that we are très occupé tonight and cannot accomodate each request. I am afraid this is our only available table." The trio stopped at the empty table next to Ron and Kim. He pulled out two plush chairs and laid menus on the table, indicating the couple should sit, but they continued to stand, arms folded.
Bonnie looked around and saw Kim and Ron staring at her and Brick. "Oh great, not only do we not get a window seat, we're in the loser section. If I wasn't starving I'd walk out right this second." Giving every impression that she was doing the establishment and other patrons a favor with her presence, she plopped her rear into a seat and kicked her college boyfriend in the shin with a high heeled foot. "Well, sit down already." She looked at the other table and arched her brow.
"Kim."
"Bonnie."
"Yo, Stoppable!"
"Heya, Brick. How's college?"
"Good, except for the studying part."
"Are you on a date with Stoppable or with me?" Bonnie asked the beefy quarterback, petulance dripping from each word.
"You, I thought. Stoppable's not my type."
"Act like it, then."
Trying to ignore the prima donna and her dense beau, Kim and Ron ordered some rich confection for dessert and shared it, feeding each other bites to the obvious annoyance of Bonnie. Sated, the pair leaned back and held hands, listening to the wonderful, icy silence that had descended as soon as Bonnie and Brick were served their dinner.
Kim looked at the room leading off to a small performance area. "Think you're up for some dancing?"
"As you know, Ron Stoppable is a bon-diggity dancer. I could most definitely do some damage to the floor. Lead on, my beautiful lady friend."
Bon-diggity or not, Kim still had fun dancing with Ron as he tossed any sense of rhythm aside and made the music his own. Ron danced with abandon and without pretension, just another of his more endearing qualities. For her part, Kim found her body remembered ancient gyrations, and she worked up a sweat trying to keep up with Ron's unique syncopations.
Grinning and breathing heavily, clasping each others' waists, Kim and Ron wobbled back to their table to settle the bill. It was past eleven, nearing the witching hour when Wade would call.
The Kimmunicator light was flashing, indicating a waiting message. Frowning, Kim picked it up... it was too early. Ron watched over Kim's shoulder as Wade's recorded face appeared on the small monitor. "Kim, your call earlier reminded me to do some scanning of all your major foes, and it looks like a couple of them are up to something. Doctor Drakken and Shego are off the radar, I can't get a reading on them. Last I saw they were heading west at a high rate of speed. Also, Professor Dementor seems to be putting the finishing touches on something big. I don't know what it is. You'll have to pick one to follow up on. Call me back as soon as you get this message."
Ron sat back. "Whoa, sounds like we need to find out what Drakken is up to. He's definitely nearer than Dementor."
"No!" Kim blurted. Ron looked puzzled. "I mean, we don't know what Drakken's up to, but it looks like Professor Dementor is up to something big. We'll do that one." She paused, then looked directly at Ron. "I mean, I need to do that one. Alone. I can't say why." I don't want you to get hurt, or have to save you again, she didn't say. And she had another plan for Ron, one that had to keep him far away from Dementor for as long as possible.
"KP, we're a team! Whither thou goest and all that jazz," he said. He looked more perplexed at her attitude than hurt, but then perked up. "Hey! I'll take a look at D and S and see what naughtiness those two are up to."
"Ron... two words. She. Go. Ready to take her on solo?"
"Hey, been there, foiled that! Remember... no wait, you weren't there for the book... well, maybe you're right," and he deflated, slumped into his chair. He looked dejected, rejected, and Kim felt horrible for him. But determined.
Hooking her fingers under his chin, she lifted his head until they were nose to nose. "I'm so sorry, Ron. But I have to do this. It's for the best, trust me." Tilting her head, she kissed him, letting her tongue touch his just slightly. A surge of electrical impulses and chemicals, trigged from a command within Kim's wetware, flowed into Ron through the soft tissues connecting them, and he was instantly asleep. Kim wrapped her arms around his falling form before he fell face-first into the table. She laid him down gently, and again whispered, "I'm sorry," into his ear.
Quickly, before other restaurant patrons noticed...
Her small purse was just big enough for two bracelets and two medical injectors. The objects clattered onto the table by Ron's head. She only needed the injectors; one for now, one for Ron to use on her later. She had no need to use the bracelets, as she didn't intend for her and Ron to wait in deep sleep for fifty thousand years. She'd send an email to Ron from the Kimmunicator en route to Dementor's lair, explaining how to use the injector on Kim when she returned. Explain that, if she were unsuccessful with Dementor, Ron and Kim would be the only two humans that would remain mortal, and be able to bear children. Kim had to be well away from Dementor's spray if Past Kim were to be injected after Future Kim switched places in... 14 hours and a few minutes. Kim couldn't be within whiff of Dementor's sprady until Ron could make sure she was immune.
The Kimmunicator beeped as she began fumbling with the injectors. Setting them down, she turned and answered Wade. "Kim! I got a lead on what Dementor is up to. It's major, major. He's concocted some type of potion and he intends to infect everyone in the world! I haven't discovered exactly what it does, but we've got to prevent him from releasing it. I've got a Global Justice supersonic cruiser headed your way, and it should be in the parking lot in a few minutes. You guys only have a couple of minutes to get ready."
"Got it, Wade. Um, Ron's not feeling well, so he's sitting this one out, but I'm on my way. I..." Kim broke off, feeling somebody hovering behind her.
"Oh my God, what's going on? I heard something about infecting...? Kim, what have you gotten into this time? And will it affect me? I mean, me and Brick?" Bonnie bit off accusingly, looking at Ron's face lying on the table amid dishes. Her eye focused on the injectors. "Did Stoppable get it? Is that the cure?"
"Um, yeah, it's really infectious, be careful," Kim told her, making it up as she went. She did not need Bonnie Rockwaller getting in the middle of this right now. Ignoring the other girl, she turned back to Wade and finished her conversation with him. "I'll get into mission gear, and if you could send somebody to help Ron home, I'd appreciate it." The tongue blast was temporary, but he was going to be out for a while once she injected him with the...
A "pssst" noise made her look up, where Bonnie lifted an empty injector from her arm. As Kim watched, motionless, unbelieving at the sheer selfish gall the other girl displayed, Bonnie picked up the second injector and quickly shot the full amount into Brick's unresisting bicep.
"You've got more for you and your loser BF, right Kim?" Bonnie asked, looking self-satisfied. Kim picked up the ampules and looked at them.
Empty.
Damn! Damn Bonnie and her self-righteous selfishness. It's a good thing this was just a backup, a just-in-case scenario, since she was not going to let Dementor release his spray. And she didn't have time to wipe the smile off Bonnie's face right now, anyway. The GJ jet was due any second, and she still had to change.
"Bonnie, that was not a good idea!" Kim told her as she gathered the rest of her stuff. "It could have adverse side effects..." as she spoke, Bonnie started looking as if she might be sick. A few seconds later, Brick's face took on a green hue and he started making jerking noises as well. The tech in Seattle hadn't mentioned this, but maybe he didn't know.
When it rains, it pours, Kim thought...
She didn't have time for this. Grabbing both bracelets, she slapped one onto Bonnie, another onto Brick, hoping they would calm the two down. Once on, each armband glowed faintly for a few seconds and then faded into invisibility. Bonnie and Brick both stopped convulsing, and Kim guided them into their chairs, both open-eyed, neither moving. Others in the restaurant gave Kim a sidelong glance, but the action had been low-key and not obvious, especially with Brick and Bonnie sitting in their chairs. Most turned back to their dinners when Kim looked their way.
Somebody would revive Bonnie and Brick shortly, Kim figured.
Sweeping up her mission backpack, Kim rested a hand lightly on Ron's hair, then sidled past the approaching waiter. He waved the check, and Kim pointed back at her table. "Ron's got the credit card! Restroom?" The waiter pointed, and Kim nearly ran. She felt bad about the mean trick.
The GJ jet was waiting in the street, causing a traffic jam, by the time Kim raced out of the restaurant and vaulted into the sleek craft. She was so intent on leaving that she missed seeing a groggy Ron by the window, talking on his cell phone.
Kim also missed the shadow within a shadow at the back of the building, raven hair and bright green eyes the only hints that somebody was watching Kim's hasty departure from a dark recess. A tiny beep sounded, and the shadow slid back to meet the approaching soft whoosh of a hoverboard. In seconds, both hoverjet and pursuing hoverboard had vanished in the distance, leaving Ron asking Wade just what the hell was going on.