There is always a day after even the most harrowing day. Whether or not one lives to see it is, of course, the question that makes a day harrowing. But if one does live to see that next day, it is often distressingly ordinary. Business must be gotten on with, needs must be met.
Dr. Drakken wasn't thinking this, exactly, as he sat down to a bowl of oatmeal in his lair's kitchen, but he did feel vaguely disappointed. It just seemed that he should be doing something more than sprinkling sugar into hot cereal on the day after Kim Possible's death. Not to mention the day that Shego had finally lost her mind. Funny, he'd always thought he'd beat her to that.
Well. Speak of the devil, and she shall appear.
Shego entered the kitchen wearing a green bathrobe, with her hair tied back in a simple ponytail.
Was she…was she humming and sashaying? And something else looked different about her, too. What was it?
He watched her as she cracked two eggs into a frying pan, trying to figure it out. He just shook his head as she took the handle in one hand, lit up the other, and held it under the pan. He took a sullen bite of his oatmeal as the eggs began to sizzle. Show-off. He'd just have to ask her, then. Women might prefer you to notice just what was different, but it was worth at least a few points to notice that something was before they told you so.
"So did you sleep well, Sheila?" He asked.
Her flaming hand clenched, crumpling the iron skillet like tinfoil. "What did you just call me?"
"Uh, Sheila, just like – "
Before he could even realize what was happening, they were both across the room, and she was slamming him against the wall with one hand around his throat and the other drawn back and flaming.
"Ahh! Sheila!"
"Stop calling me that!" She shrieked, driving her blazing fist through the cave wall beside his head. He gave a girly scream and cowered as best he could with her holding him pinned. "I told you once," she continued, her voice quiet and deadly. "That the last time I wanted to hear that name was when you read it off my resume'."
"But…last night…" He whimpered.
"What about last night?" She demanded. Then her eyes widened. "Hey, what did happen last night? I remember splattering the Princess, but after that, everything gets fuzzy!" She tightened her grip on his throat and yanked him down so they were nose-to-nose.
"Decided to celebrate with me a little last night, huh? Was it some kind of mind control thing, or did you just slip me some roofies?"
"No! Neither! Nothing like that!" Drakken wailed, waving his hands frantically. "It's just that you got a bit weird after you killed Kim Possible! Maybe you had some sort of blackout from using so much of your power at once!"
She tightened her grip and pulled him in even closer. "And I told you to call me 'Sheila'?"
"Yes! Yes!"
Drakken covered his eyes and waited for the pain. When none came after a few seconds, he dared to peak out between his fingers. "Sheila" was looking at him suspiciously. He closed his fingers again and waited some more.
Finally, she let him go. He dropped to the floor, curled up in the fetal position, and began to suck his thumb.
"Okay," she said as she turned and walked away, passing between the splintered halves of the table, which she must have smashed on her way to grabbing him. "I'll let you live, then. I must've really been out of it. Funny, that's never happened before…"
She got out another pan and some more eggs, and soon the sound of sizzling filled the kitchen again. Drakken slowly picked himself up as she cooked, silently cursing himself for thinking, even for a moment, that Shego "losing her mind" was even a little bit funny.
As he went to fetch a mop to clean up his spilled oatmeal (they'd have to start advertising for henchmen soon), he suddenly realized what looked different about Shego this morning.
How could he not know? He'd just been staring right at it.
Shego's eyes were green again.
----
"Ron. Ron, wake up."
"Uh? Wha?" Ron raised his head up off the bench – at some point he'd gone from leaning on Mrs. Dr. P's shoulder to stretched out full-length – and did his best to pry his eyes open.
"And here I was afraid we'd wake him when we got up."
His vision cleared to reveal the Doctors P standing over him. Mrs. Dr. P was reaching down to shake him, while Mr. Dr. P was standing a step back, shaking his head.
Gray light was coming from a window down the hall. Dawn, or close to it. How long had he slept? Hard to say – he didn't know how late it had been when he'd finally fallen asleep.
He sat up, rubbing his neck. Not the worst crick he'd ever had, what with the sleeping on planes or waking up in captivity, but it was still a crick worthy of the name. "Did something happen?" He asked.
"Not really," Mrs. Dr. P answered. "She's out of surgery, and she's been moved into one of the CCU rooms. Would you like to see her for a minute?"
"Are you sure I'm allowed to? I mean…" He trailed off as he noticed Mrs. Dr. P. raising an eyebrow and Mr. Dr. P rolling his eyes. "Oh. Yeah. You're sure."
- - - -
Ron had seen Kim when she'd first been injured, and she'd been a mess. Of course she was: she'd been hit by a plasma blast, blown through a window (that was still his best guess for the glass cuts) and had a wall dropped on her. She was lucky she wasn't the kind of mess that you cleaned up with a sponge.
But he honestly couldn't say if she looked worse then, or now. Then, of course, she'd been all mangled. Now, the mangling was less visible, but there were tubes and bandages and wires and tape and cruel, cruel-looking things with metal struts and braces and rings and screws and pins. But that one tube that led to a bag hanging down beside the bed, a bag that was a quarter-full of a clear, yellow fluid…that was somehow the worst.
Hello, God? Fate? Whoever's listening? Was that really necessary? Crippling her for life wasn't enough, you had to strip away every last scrap of dignity, too? No wound is so massive that it can't use a little lemon juice, is that it?
"Hey, KP, you look…"
Like a mummy? Or maybe the Borg Queen, what with all those wires and tubes? Much smaller than I remember?
He didn't know what she looked like. He wanted to summon up his Ron-ness and chatter at her like nothing was any different, just in case some part of her could hear. Later, he would. But now…couldn't. Wanted to. Couldn't.
Instead, he looked for someplace he could touch her without hurting her. Finally, he had to settle for her right hand, which only had a few cuts. He took it, and said the only thing he could think of to say:
"I'm here, KP."
You succeeded. You saved me. And now I'm right here beside you until you wake up, and I'm here for whatever comes after.
"I'm here."
After that, he just stood there, gripping the bedrail and gently holding her hand, listening to the sound of her machines until her parents came in and led him away.
- - - -
Kim Possible lived through the night. That was the good news. Her damaged spine did not become an issue, however, because she didn't wake up.
- - - -
The Stoppables arrived at Middleton Hospital with the twins the very minute that visiting hours began. The twins' visit, of course, was very brief, and they spent all of it Trying To Be Brave, as eleven (twelve in October!)-year-old boys will do. They had even less to say to their sister than Ron had, but they did bring her pandaroo. They left it tucked in the crook of her arm as all of them trooped down to the hospital cafeteria.
They were halfway through a silent breakfast – the first food Ron had eaten since his slices of double-cheese pizza the day before – when a familiar four-note ringtone went off.
Ron pulled the Kimmunicator out of his pocket: "Hey, Wade."
The ten-year-old genius's face fell. "Oh. Hey, Ron. I was kinda surprised to see that I was still getting a signal from the Kimmunicator, so I decided to see what was going on."
You were hoping that if the Kimmunicator was okay, then maybe it was all a dream or something, and if you called, Kim would appear and say "What's the sitch?" and everything would be A-OK. That's what you mean, isn't it? Sorry, Wade.
"Kim must've dropped it," Ron explained. "That's why it's not part of her hip right now."
Wade winced. And he wasn't the only one.
"An EMT found it, recognized it, and brought it to us," Ron finished.
"Well, it's just as well that I caught you. Have you seen the news?"
"Never do if I can help it, my man."
"Well, I think you'd better see this."
Wade's face disappeared from the Kimmunicator, to be replaced by the ruptured façade of Middleton High. A familiar figure emerged from the gaping hole in the school wall.
President George W. Bush.
"I'd wondered why the press hadn't made it here yet," Don Stoppable commented.
"My fellow Americans," the President began. "Today, I am doing something that I hoped I would never again have to do: I am standing on a site where terrorism has once again struck on American soil. Less than twenty-four hours ago, Middleton High School was attacked by the international criminal Dr. Drakken. Loss of life was only avoided by the Grace of God, and the great personal sacrifice of a true American hero: Kim Possible."
"This act cannot stand, and it will not stand. We will hunt this enemy of freedom down and bring him to justice. As for Kim Possible, she will be awarded - "
"Enough, Wade," Ron said. "That's enough."
"Aww," One twin said. "I wanted – "
"To see what kind of medal – " The other continued.
"Kim was getting," The first finished.
"I'm sure we'll find out soon enough, boys," Mr. Dr. Possible said. "Though I'd have thought we'd be told first."
Wade's face reappeared on the Kimmunicator. "You see why I had to show you that, Ron?"
"You mean other than so I know that Drakken knows that he's perfectly safe now?"
The bitter sarcasm was so different from Ron's usual reactions that Wade didn't quite know how to respond to it. "Uh…yeah. That, and – "
"Every supervillain out there now knows that Kim's out of action. I got it."
Everyone else at the table went still.
"Does that mean that Kim's in more danger?" Mrs. Dr. Possible asked. "Will her enemies be coming after her here?"
Ron and Wade thought about it for a moment, then shook their heads.
"Nah," Ron.
"I don't think so," Wade.
"The Seniors don't have any real grudge against Kim," Wade explained. "Supervillainy is a hobby for them. They even follow a rulebook. I downloaded a copy of it not long after that time they tried to hold Europe's power hostage, and attacking an opponent at a time like this would be very bad form."
"Monkey Fist would consider it a breach of honor, too," Ron added. "What with the English Lord thing and the martial artist thing. Besides, it's me he really hates. So be on the lookout for monkey ninjas." He shuddered. "Why does it have to be monkeys?"
"The camp mascot can't have been that bad, dear," His mother said automatically.
"You weren't there. You didn't – "
"Anyway," Wade said, interrupting what was apparently an argument so old that it had become actual reflex, "Dr. Dementor was in Global Justice's prison when Shego and Drakken blasted their way out, and he's apparently still cringing and whimpering."
"Not that that's unusual," Ron said. "And DNAmy is liable to send an actual get-well gift. And if we're lucky, it'll be a plush Cuddlebuddy instead of a live one."
"If Drakken and Shego are smart," Wade continued, "They'll be laying low for a while. You guys are on every channel, and I do mean every channel. The whole world is outraged over this – an attack on a school and all." He paused, his face looking slightly uncomfortable. "Uh, well, that is, almost the whole world. Al-Jazeera is actually kind of gloating. 'Now the Americans know how we feel', and that kind of thing."
"Really needed to hear that, Wade."
"Sorry about that, I – "
"Just presenting all the information, I gotcha," Ron said, waving it off. "Now, that on-every-channel thing isn't gonna last. Nobody even died here, so everybody's gonna forget about this as soon the next Hollywood star checks into rehab or the next politician drops his pants. Still, I think you're right – the lying low should last for a while. GJ and the Department of Homeland Security have longer memories than the media. Sometimes. Kinda."
"So you're not worried about one of Kimmie's enemies trying to finish the job?" Mr. Dr. Possible asked. He'd caught glimpses of this competent, confident Ron Stoppable before, but he'd rarely had the chance to truly watch him work. It was somewhat unsettling.
Ron and Wade both shook their heads.
"No, Dr. Possible," Wade said. "What we're worried about is a massive crime wave now that all of those villains know that Kim won't stop them."
"But we'll have to blow up that bridge when we come to it," Ron said. "Because right now, it's all about Kim."
----
It turned out that Ron was right. The media circus lasted for several days, during which they said "She's in critical but stable condition" and "We have no further comments at this time" a lot. A picture of Kim hooked up to all of those tubes and machines (and that damn bag!) somehow found its way to the papers, drawing outrage from Ron and Mr. Dr. Possible, but only weary, unsurprised resignation from Mrs. Dr. P. Then, just as Ron had predicted, there was a new development on the Angelina Jolie front, and all of the attention faded. It was just as well – Kim being critically injured while defending her classmates from a rampaging supervillain was less interesting than if she had, say, gotten arrested, or checked into rehab (especially for steroid use, which would handily explain to all the folks at home why they couldn't do the things she could), or gotten married to a total stranger in Vegas, or turned up pregnant.
Kim didn't wake up once during that time. In a way, that was a mercy. Treating burns as severe and extensive as Kim's is not a painless process.
Both Doctors Possible had taken leaves of absence from their jobs, and one of them, or (with their express permission to the hospital) Ron was at Kim's bedside at all times. They were allegedly there to keep her company, to talk to and interact with her, to provide stimulation that might help wake her. And they did all that. To no one's surprise, Ron was the best at it once he got over that first night's shock. He would bring in movies – both "B" horror flicks to mock with her and the occasional chick flick that he knew she would like – and video games. He made Pandaroo "talk" to her. Sometimes he told her about his plans to open a restaurant of his own when he "grew up", and thus his need to go to college for Business (after all, he knew the cooking side of the equation instinctively), and how he planned to work hard this year to get into college with her.
Rufus came with him, of course, and he learned to do an imitation of a stuffed rat that fooled all of the hospital personnel except Mrs. Dr. P herself, though they did wonder why Kim seemed to respond better to the presence of that ugly thing, rather than the much cuter (if still somewhat disturbing) Pandaroo.
But there was another reason for the round-the-clock vigil, beyond making sure that someone was there when (not if!) Kim woke up. The same reason that the Doctors Possible, lacking Ron's skill at the martial arts, started packing heat in the form of their sons' harmless-looking inventions. That reason was simple: it was possible that Ron and Wade could be wrong in their assessment of Kim's enemies, or that some unknown might try to build his reputation by being the one to finish the job that Dr. Drakken couldn't.
As a week passed and no such attempts were made, however, their concerns turned more toward medicine than security.
On the plus side, many aspects of her recovery were proceeding as well as could be expected – better, in some cases. Kim was just plain healthier and tougher than the norm, even in circumstances such as these. One by one, machines and tubes were being removed. It was no longer "news" of any kind if she lived through the night.
Even better, if Kim's EEG readings were to be believed, she was definitely responding to the stimulation of being visited by Ron and her family.
The problem was that after two weeks of it, she still hadn't woken up.
There were various methods they could use to try and correct that; various treatments they could attempt. Some quite exotic. But they started with the simplest.
Kim responded well to the stimulation of visitors.
So. Perhaps more stimulation would help. Perhaps it was time to allow Kim more visitors.
Kissing Sleeping Beauty
"Hey, girl, you're lookin'…you're lookin'…Kim, I…I'm sorry, I can't…I can't…"
----
Monique burst out of Kim's room and fled down the hall, weeping. Felix and Ron watched her go, then turned back to each other with a sigh.
"That went well," Ron said.
"I didn't expect it to," Felix replied. "She doesn't like talking about it, but she's got some Issues about the attack." He took hold of his wheels and got ready to roll. "I'll go – "
Ron put a hand on his chest. "You go talk to Kim. I'll go get Monique."
"Dude, she's my girlfriend."
"Exactly. Look: she's got Issues? I've got Issues. I've got a lifetime subscription. I could put 'Issues' down as my major on my college applications. Trust me on this. I know what to do."
----
"Hey, Kim. Sorry about that. Don't worry, it's nothing to do with you. Well, not much. Monique has been a little bit messed up since the attack. She's been trying to hide it, but with all the time we've been spending together lately, it's hard not to notice."
"That's right – has anybody told you? She and I are dating now. It's great, but it almost didn't happen. My mom walked in on the conversation when Monique first asked me out, and she – Monique, that is – was right in the middle of describing what she planned to do with me as soon as she got me someplace more private than this hospital. Mom needed some serious convincing that Monique was mostly kidding, and we didn't have any immediate plans to do anything stupid. After that, though – well, that and a private little conversation they had where I suspect my Mom threatened Monique with killer robots if she ever hurt me – Mom has been absolutely ecstatic. I think she was starting to get worried that I was lonely. Which I was. Oh, you and Ron are great, but a guy wants a GF of his own, you know? And watching you and Ron cuddling and cooing 24/7 since the prom didn't help."
"Heh. I just realized – once again, you get to be all jealous that I'm taking up all of one of your friend's attention. Unless – hey, that's an idea. Maybe we could double date when you get out of here. How does that sound? We could really freak the mundanes, rolling down the street like a set of bookends around the normally-abled people. I warn you, though, everyone's going to think that you and I are together. After all, who would date a gimp but another…"
(Silence.)
(Sigh)
"You probably don't think that's funny. I'm sorry. I've been like this so long that it's just the way my life is, and you don't even…"
(Pause)
"I know you're probably not going to remember any of this conversation when you wake up. But just in case you do: don't worry about hurting my feelings during your initial freak-out period. It happens to everybody. I understand."
(Pause.)
(Sigh)
"I've always been grateful for what I have, Kim. Like I'm always saying: I can do everything but walk, and my chair – well, hey, it kinda makes up for not being able to walk if you can fly, doesn't it? That's one thing I'm really grateful for. How many paraplegics have moms who can turn their wheelchair into something worthy of being stolen by a supervillain?"
"But I won't kid you, Kim. It can be a hard life, even for me, and I wouldn't have wished it on you for anything. I promise, though, that I'll do what I can to get you off on the right…to get you ro…to help you through it. And so will my mom."
----
Ron found Monique in a secluded corner of hallway with a nice view of the surrounding hills. It was a great place to go to speak privately, or think, or cry your eyes out. Which was what Monique was doing.
He joined her at the window and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. There was nothing romantic in the half-hug – twelve years with a best friend who was a girl had given him a working idea of what to do when someone was crying.
"Ron, I'm – I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" She sobbed before he could even greet her. "I just, I, I just couldn't, couldn't face h-her!"
"What, she's that ugly now?"
Monique stopped sobbing and snapped her head around to stare at him, her eyes and mouth agape.
"Well?" Ron prompted, as if he hadn't said anything unusual. "I know you're big on the fashion thing and all, but it still seems a little harsh."
"No, no!" She protested, stepping away from him and waving her hands defensively. "Not – nothing like that! She's – it's – it's Kim in there, and yeah, she's ABU, but I don't give a shit about that!"
"All banged up?" Ron guessed.
"Yeah."
"If that's not it, then what is?" He asked.
She started to shake her head. "Ron, I – "
" – Ran away from her like you were afraid she was contagious," Ron finished, a hard edge in his voice. "I think I really need to know."
She stared up at him for a long moment. She'd never met this Ron before. She wondered if anyone but Kim's enemies ever had. Finally, she dropped her eyes from his. She was still shaking her head, but for an entirely different reason:
"It's nothing like that, either. Nothing bad about her at all. Totally the opposite, actually. The thing is, she's…I mean, I'm…" She took a deep breath. "Ron, you and Felix and even Rufus…you were all so brave in that fight. And Kim! Kim is always brave. And this time, she got hurt for it. Hurt bad. But me? I'm a coward."
Ron frowned. "Monique, you're not a – "
"You wanted to know," She interrupted. "Just let me tell it, okay?"
He subsided.
"All the rest of you just charged right into that fight – Kim with the CGB, you and Rufus and Felix – and even Bonnie and Brick! – against those GGGs. Rufus could've got stepped on, Josh needs surgery to fix his face, Felix got shot down, and Kim…" She swallowed hard. "And what was I doing while all this was goin' on? Hiding behind that table. I just stayed there, too scared to move and one loud noise away from peeing my panties, ready to put my hands up as soon as someone told me to, as long as it looked like the GGGs were winning. Then Felix comes in and busts 'em up, and that's when I finally grow a pair. I only get up and start fighting when the fight's already halfway to won, how's that for gutless? I get a little fat lip and Kim gets blown up. So now, I just can't…I just can't face her, Ron. More cowardice, I guess."
She fell silent. She kept her eyes on the floor, like a small child waiting to be punished.
Ron watched her for a long moment. Judging perhaps? Then the moment passed: "You know," he said. "When I said something like that, Mrs. Dr. P hit me. Now I understand why."
Monique finally looked up at him again, a mixture of unpleasant expressions on her face. There was surprise – Kim's mom hit someone? She hit Ron There was fear – is Ron going to hit me But mostly, there was a bone-deep misery that didn't really care if she was hit, that felt she deserved it, that braced for the contempt and hatred that she was sure was imminent from him, because she already felt so much of it for herself.
What she actually got was something totally unexpected.
"Are you this stupid naturally, or did you take lessons?"
She blinked. "Huh?"
He reached out and took her by the shoulders. She glanced down at his hands, but otherwise didn't respond to them. Instead, she looked back up at him, utter confusion on her face.
"Monique, there is almost no such thing as cowardice when your school is attacked by terrorists and monsters. The people who hid under tables aren't cowards. The people who ran away as soon as they got a chance aren't cowards. The people who stood and fought were very, very brave – and maybe a little stupid. After all, when you're not trained to deal with a sitch, hiding and running away are probably smarter. And hey! Congratulations! You're one of the brave morons! It just took you a little while longer to work up your nerve, that's all."
"But – "
"Ah!" He raised a finger to her lips. "I'm not going to argue with you on this, and I'm not going to try and convince you. Not now. It would take too long. Right now, I'll settle for hearing you say this out loud: 'I am being totally, Ron's-fear-of-bugs-level irrational'. Say it."
He removed his finger. She remained silent and staring, not quite believing that this conversation was happening.
"Go on," he prompted.
"I am being totally, Ron's-fear-of-bugs-level irrational."
"Good. Now: I am not a coward."
"I am not a coward."
"Nothing that happened in that battle is in any way my fault."
"Nothing that happened in that battle is in any way my fault."
"I'm going to give Felix head whenever he wants."
"He'll get as much as he gives."
The tension snapped like an over-tightened guitar string, and the two teens collapsed into helpless gales of laughter. After a moment, they straightened, wiping at their eyes.
"Good reaction time," Ron complimented. "But knowing what I know about Felix, he couldn't survive getting as much as he's going to give."
"Likes pleasing his woman, does he?"
"He's just been waiting for the chance."
"Sounds like I got me a good one." Then the smile faded from her face. "And so did Kim."
Ron blushed. "I'll take your word for that. But speaking of Kim: are you finished with your freakage?"
Monique took a deep breath, nodded, and squared her shoulders. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."
----
"Hey, girlfriend. I'm back for Take Two. You can thank Ron for that. I always knew he was a good man, but I don't think any of us knew just how good. He's what's kept you from flying apart all these years, isn't he? You hold onto that boy with both hands, girl – and wrap your legs around him as well."
"But I guess you finally figured that out yourself. Okay, since we're talking about good men, let me tell you how things are going with Felix…"
The Wicked Queen, the Evil Wizard, and the Ogre
"Hi, Kim."
"Wow, this is kind of weird. This is only, what? The second time we've met that wasn't on opposite sides of a computer screen? I just didn't think a visit from the Wade-bot would be quite the same."
"Now that I'm here, though, I'm not really sure what to do. I mean, I don't think I've ever actually touched you before. I don't think I can start now. I'd just be too worried about hurting you or infecting you or something. Ron and your mom told me it was okay, and it's not like I don't believe them, but it's just so hard to actually do it now that I'm in here."
"Uh, anyway. You probably don't want to hear any more about that. I wish I had more to talk about, but there just hasn't been much news. The search for Drakken and Shego is still ongoing – Global Justice and Interpol and security and intelligence agencies from a dozen countries are in on it – but nothing has turned up yet."
----
"Dr. D."
Drakken did his best to ignore Shego, in the hopes that she would go away. It didn't work. He'd never been very good at ignoring her anyway – he could always feel her there. Watching.
"Dr. D."
"Can't talk," He said, not raising his eyes from the tangle of electronic parts on the table before him. "Inventing."
"Inventing what?"
"That's on a need-to-know basis," He said. "And you don't need to know yet."
"Inventing nothing," Shego said flatly. "Just tinkering, with no idea what you're trying to do."
She was right, of course, but Drakken saw no reason to humor her impertinence. Instead, he raised his head from his work and glowered at her as menacingly as he could. As usual, she was completely unimpressed. "Don't you have some work you should be doing, Shego?" He growled.
"Nope," Having caught his attention, she leaned back from the table and slouched into her chair. "I've done all the sitting on my ass that I can fit into the schedule today."
"So what do you want me to do about it?" He snapped. "Invent you a video game?"
"That'd be nice," she said. "But I was thinking more along the lines of some work."
"Work? As in world-conquering work?"
She leaned forward in her seat again, her eyes shining with eagerness. "Yeah. Exactly."
"You don't seem to be getting the idea of this 'lying low' thing, Shego."
"Come on," Shego pleaded, thumping her fists on the table. "It doesn't have to be something big, as long as it's working toward the goal!"
"Since when do you go looking for extra work?"
"I'm just so bored! I haven't kicked anybody's ass in weeks – " She paused to give him an ominous look, then continued. "And besides…" This time, her look was sheepish. "I guess I kinda got the taste for it when we came so close with the Diablo thing." Suddenly, her face lit up. "Hey! That's an idea!"
"What's an idea?"
"Why don't you hack a communications satellite or something, and use it to send out a command signal to all the leftover Diablos?"
"But…" Drakken protested. "There aren't enough of them left for a world-conquering strategy. Without the numbers and the placement to immobilize military responses, they'd be taken down."
"But they'd do a lot of damage first," She said, sounding not at all unlike a child describing the play-possibilities of her favorite Christmas present.
"That's not conquest," Drakken said, as if he was offended by the mere suggestion. "That's just garden-variety terrorism."
"Exactly! Terror! We need to remind people why they're afraid of us!"
"Shego, people have two possible reactions to things that frighten them, and we aren't prepared if they choose 'fight' over 'flight'. Remember that the men with machine guns and the planes with bombs are still a concern."
"To you, maybe, but not everyone in this base curls up and sucks their thumb when things get a little rough."
"Shego – "
"Hurting with our words. I know. But check this out."
She got out of her chair and took a few steps back from the table, stopping in a neutral position with her feet set wide apart. She started to take deep breaths, as if bracing herself for a very hard bit of work. Her hands flared, and then the flame rapidly spread up her arms. Her eyes glowed, then started to spew green fire. Green sparks billowed from her mouth.
All familiar by now. But then, something new: her hair…it didn't look like it caught fire so much as it became fire.
Shego didn't look human anymore. She looked like some archangel of poisonous radiation.
She kept taking deep breaths, and the fire kept building, brightening, flaring higher and higher until –
With a primal war-scream, she threw her hands up and her head back and a column of green fire so sun-bright that Drakken had to cover his watering eyes erupted skyward and blew a hole in the roof of the cavern.
Drakken covered his head with his hands, but a moment later he realized that nothing was falling and nothing was going to. The rock had not been smashed by the blast, but vaporized.
"Whoo!" Shego cheered as she lowered her hands and turned her face back to him. As best he could tell with her coloration, she looked as pleasantly flushed and disheveled as a woman who'd just had a good orgasm. "Ha! How'd you like that? I bet they could see that one from space!"
That was exactly what he was afraid of, and he was about to tell her so when her expression suddenly changed. She stumbled back over to the table and collapsed into her chair, looking exhausted instead of exhilarated.
Small wonder. The blast she'd just set off was far more powerful than the one she'd hit Kim Possible with – more powerful, more controlled, and more focused. Forget about seeing it from space, if there'd been a satellite above them when she'd set it off, it was space junk now.
"Shego?" he asked tentatively.
She'd been resting her face in her hands, but she looked up at him now. "I asked you not to call me that," she said wearily.
Her eyes were brown again. And her raven hair no longer had its green highlights.
"Sheila?" He said, very, very carefully.
"Si," she nodded.
"Are you alright?"
"Si. Just…I'm just very cansado."
"Tired?" Drakken said. "Perhaps you should take a nap."
"Good idea." With that, Shego – no, he was quite sure it was Sheila right now – pushed away from the table – "Buenas Noches" – and staggered off toward her quarters.
Interesting. Maybe the James Possibles of the world wouldn't let him into their little genius clubs, but he was a scientist. And he had enough data now to develop a working hypothesis.
He sat back down at the table, swept the electronics he'd been tinkering with aside and pulled out a notebook. He had one key piece of information that Shego didn't, and he now knew what his next project would be.
----
"On the other hand, it's not like there's no news at all. It seems like, with Drakken and Shego in hiding, some of your other enemies are trying to pick up the slack."
----
"Hey, Doof."
Duff Killigan whirled to face the intruder in his home. Ah. The Possible wench's little tagalong. He'd heard that the boy had had some ninja training. Seemed that it was true.
"That's Duff, boy."
"I just calls 'em like I sees 'em."
Duff bristled at that. "Ya cannae stop me, boy," he growled. "All ah have to do is get this – " He held up the terraforming device he'd stolen earlier that day. "Hooked up to a proper power supply, and soon ah'll be turning continents into putting greens!" He reached for the lever on his mantel.
"Okay."
"Eh?"
"I said okay." Ron put his hands in his pockets and began to slowly stroll around the room, looking at the furnishings as he went. "You said I can't stop you, and you're right. Your hand is already on the lever. There's no way I can get there in time."
Momentarily flustered, Duff gathered his bravado back around him. "That's right, Sonny Jim! You can't!" He paused. "I just thought yui'd be more upsit about it."
"Oh, I would be. But you're not going to push that lever."
"Oh? And why not?" Duff blustered.
"Because if you do, that'll leave me all alone up here with lots of what I'm guessing are priceless antiques."
It took a moment for Duff to understand the implied threat, but when he did, his jaw dropped. "Ye wouldn't dare!"
Ron took down one of a pair of hatchets that had been hanging crossed on the wall, and hefted it experimentally. "Try me," he said.
Duff's face turned brick red, and he glowered like a stormcloud. "Right," he said, putting the terraforming device down on the mantel and picking up his golf bag. "I'll just have to deal wi' ye before I go down, then. Let's see how tough you are without yuir filly, boy."
"Okay, you've called me 'boy' twice and 'Sonny Jim' once. My name is not that hard to remember."
"Which is fortunate for you," Killigan said, reaching for his ball pouch. "Because soon a memory is all you'll be!"
Faster than Killigan's eye could follow, Ron's hand dipped into his pocket and whipped back out again. Rufus sailed across the room, twisting his body as he flew to spin around behind the mad golfer. A flash of his teeth, and explosive golf balls – unactivated – were spilling everywhere.
"Ah, ah, ah," Ron scolded, shaking his finger. "Use those, and the knickknacks still get trashed."
Duff grabbed hopelessly for his ammunition, then growled in frustration and drew his clubs. "Awright then, laddy, we'll just have to do this the hard way." He grinned ferociously as he advanced. "The slow way."
"Boy, Sonny Jim, and now 'Laddy'." Ron took the other hatchet down from the wall. "The name is Ron Stoppable."
----
Fifteen minutes later, the two of them (three, counting Rufus) stood on a hill outside of Duff's castle, waiting for a pickup by Global Justice. Duff had two faint scratches on his neck, and he was trembling violently. The handcuffs were hardly necessary. Rufus was sitting in Ron's pocket, looking up at his human with concern on his little face. For Ron's part, he was ignoring both of them and turning the terraforming device over in his hands.
"You know, something occurs to me," he said, still turning the device in his hands. "This little handheld landscaper whatchathingie meant a whole lot to the scientists who developed it. Years of work, lots of money, and maybe a Nobel prize for all the good they could do with this thing. And you just took it away from them. You took it away from all the people it could've helped, too – and even I can think of a couple dozen ways it could help people. And what about those continents you were going to turn into putting greens? You would've taken away millions of people's homes, maybe their lives, and you wouldn't care. Because nothing ever gets taken away from you. Oh, sure, you go to prison, but you always escape, and everything is right where you left it."
"And – pay attention, now, because this is the part that really pisses me off – you thought that you could get away with all this because KP isn't around to stop you. So you took me away from my time with her in order to shut you down. Again."
Ron fell silent, still turning the device in his hands. Duff didn't say a word. He didn't dare. A lot of the boy's silly-ass manner remained the same as ever, but this time it seemed like nothing but a mask over something…well, something that made him look sane and even-tempered. That monkey kung fu that Monkey Fist was always on about had been in full evidence, that was for sure. A few ducks and dodges, a couple of kicks worthy of the red-haired filly herself, and the fight had been over – he'd been on his back with those hatchets at his throat.
"Something else occurs to me," Ron said suddenly. "I have a reputation for pressing random buttons." He held up the terraforming device. "Ooh, look," he said. "Buttons."
"No!" Duff cried, starting forward.
Without even looking, Ron pulled one of the hatchets out of his belt and pointed at him with it. Duff froze. With his other hand, Ron pushed the button in question.
Thunder boomed through the earth as ancient slabs of rock shifted. Duff was knocked first to his knees, then his belly as the ground heaved. Ron kept his feet.
A few minutes later, Castle Killigan was nothing more than another rocky section of Scottish highland. A few minutes after that, a weeping Duff Killigan, an eerily-quiet Ron Stoppable, and a very concerned Rufus were picked up by Global Justice.
Ron watched Killigan weep as he was loaded into the GJ transport. He wished he could feel some sort of sense of triumph about this. Wanted to. Couldn't.
Kissing Sleeping Beauty, Part 2
"So. Here we are. I finally have you where I want you. I get to talk, and you have to listen. No bossiness, no comebacks, no pretending to listen but really ignoring me until I go away."
"I hate you, did you know that? I really, genuinely hate you. I didn't always, you know. Back when you were 'Tin Teeth', you were just annoying and pathetic. But then you just had to nail that tryout, and those two little traitors who were right there with me in not wanting you on the team started clapping for you! Even then, I didn't hate you yet – you were just a little more annoying. I didn't know it was the beginning of the end."
"A year later, though, after you'd taken my team away from me, then I hated you."
"After that, it just got worse and worse. Everything I did, you did better. I worked my ass off to get honor roll. You're a shoo-in for Valedictorian. I do and say and wear the right things to bepopular. You're world-famous. I have years of ballet and cheerleading, and I'm one of the best cheerleaders out there. You have sixteen black belts, and you are the best."
"You want to know the real reason I hate you? It's because no matter what I do, I can never, ever beat you. Not really. I can't even catch up. I hate you because you're worse than my sisters. You're both of them put together. You're beautiful and smart and the only person who even pretends to think that I can compete with you is my Mom. And Brick, but that's probably because I'm letting him into my pants."
"So…yeah, I hate you. And I want to keep hating you. So you'd just better get better, do you hear me?"
(Sniff)
"Because, b-because if you don't get better, if you d-d-died or stayed a…a vegetable because you saved a wh-whole bunch of people's lives…and mine, even though I started that fight, even though I hate you…then that'll make you a hero, and I won't be able to hate you anymore. I'll have to be all admiring and grateful just like all the rest of the sheep. So you…you just get better."
(Sniff, sniff)
(Questioning chatter)
"Oh, it's you, you gross little thing. Aren't you, like, unhygienic or something? Come here."
----
Bonnie Rockwaller was cuddling Rufus to her cheek when Colleen Possible opened the door. He didn't usually like to be handled so by any but a select few humans, but he owed Bonnie, and he could tell that she needed this.
Bonnie started when she saw who'd come in. How much had she heard? She genuinely liked the older woman since the time they'd spent together on career week, and she didn't want to ruin that with some careless venting.
"Dr. Possible! I – "
Colleen Possible raised a finger to her lips. Then she gathered the red-eyed girl into her arms and hugged her tight. It was then that Bonnie realized that Dr. Possible had heard every word, and she started bawling.
It was some time before Colleen Possible took back Rufus – who'd been sitting on Bonnie's shoulder and stroking her hair as best he could – and handed the still-sniffling girl off to Brick, who took her home and did his best (admittedly questionable – videos of last year's football victories were involved) to cheer her up. Without trying to get into her pants.
----
Other visitors came and went. Tara and Josh (his eye bandaged and his speaking impeded by his wired jaw); the Detention Crew (Big Mike expressing his regrets to Ron that he had skipped school that day, and thus hadn't been available to help with either the fight or the digging); the cheerleading squad; people she'd helped. As predicted, DNAmy sent a get-well gift. Fortunately, it was a stuffed Cuddle-Buddy.
Who knows? Maybe some or all of it even helped.
It happened, as such things sometimes do, with surprising suddenness. Ron was sitting by Kim's bedside, holding her hand, mocking an episode of Agony County when some of her monitors started to beep. Alarmed, he reached across her to press the nurse's call button. As he did so, his body was turned so he was looking directly into her face when her eyes fluttered open.
"Ron?" She said sleepily, her voice raw from disuse. "Is that you? Where am I? And why can't I move?"
Ron didn't answer. For the moment, he was stunned speechless. Instead, he jammed his thumb down on the call button much harder than he'd originally planned to, while his other hand dove into one of his pockets and hit another call button, this one to alert Wade and the Doctors Possible that Kim was back.
----
The next few hours were…hectic was one way to put it, though "horrible" might have been more accurate.
The initial joy at Kim's awakening was quickly swallowed up in the hurry and busyness of what seemed like an endless round of tests, most designed to determine how much brain damage her three-week coma had inflicted on her. Little to none, as it turned out: her vision and hearing were as keen as ever, and the only blank spot in her memory was the battle at Middleton High itself. She could remember nothing after Shego blew the cafeteria doors down. Ron had to fill her in on the rest as an explanation as to how she'd gotten where she was.
All of the news they got from Kim was good. It was the news they had to give her that was so heartbreaking.
----
Kim's eyes filled with tears as she looked up at her mother. "I thought…" She whispered. "I thought I couldn't move because of the casts and the braces, and that I couldn't feel anything because of the drugs."
Colleen Possible reached down and stroked her daughter's hair – the only comforting touch that would actually be felt. "Oh, baby, I wish that were true. More than I've ever wished for anything in my life."
Kim's eyes overflowed. She blinked, then squeezed her eyes shut. "I can't even wipe my own tears away."
Without comment, Colleen Possible took the tissue that her husband held out to her and did what Kim couldn't.
"Kimmiecub," Her father said. "I know this isn't what you want to hear…it probably won't even make you feel better, but…we're here for you. We'll…" He stopped himself from saying 'take care of you'. "…help you. We're not the only ones, either."
Kim opened her eyes again, and as she lay there looking up at her parents, she experienced a moment of terrible clarity.
"Bring in the others," She said. "Ron, the Tweebs – let them in. Quick."
Her father looked surprised, but didn't argue. Instead, he went to the door and opened it. "Okay, boys," he said. "You can come in, now."
Ron, Jim, and Tim, sent into the hall when the Doctors Possible had sat down with Kim to tell her the full truth about her injuries, filed in. All three looked like they were searching for something to say. Rufus, poking his head out of Ron's pocket, just looked sympathetic.
Kim spoke up before they could. "In about thirty seconds," she said, "I'm going to start freaking out. There will be crying. There will be screaming. I'm going to get right started on the six stages thing with the denial and the anger and the depression. But before all that starts, I want to say something."
They gave her their 100 percent rapt attention. How else do you respond to something like that?
"I want to thank you all, and tell you how much I love you for saving my life and working so hard to help me. I don't wish that I'd died, and I don't want to die now." She fixed her eyes on Ron for a moment. "I don't even wish that I'd done something different. I am going to get through this, and I am going to have a life. And I am going to need all of you to remind me of those things. A lot. Okay?"
They all nodded and made noises of agreement. Tears stood in four human pairs of eyes. The twins were sniffling, despite their best efforts. Ron heard Rufus whimpering in his pocket and wished that his eyes weren't dry. He certainly wanted to cry.
Couldn't.
But, wet or dry, there was pride in their eyes as well. Kim had never seemed more brave.
"Okay," Kim said, her voice shaking as the iron control she'd been keeping on herself started to break. "Freak-out commencing, then."
Before it could commence, however, there was a frantic knock at the door.
"Come back later!" James Possible bellowed. "We need a moment, here!"
The knocking didn't stop. Instead, it was joined by a vaguely familiar voice. "James!" The voice called. "James, let me in! This is important!"
James Possible's eyes went very wide. He lunged for the door and threw it open. Standing in the hallway was a bespectacled young man – also vaguely familiar – who was dressed like he'd arrived directly from the eighties.
James Possible's wide eyes now narrowed in recognition…and rage.
"Drew."