Kim was, of course, exhausted, and returned to her bed as soon as it could be tidied a bit. She immediately fell into a sleep that was nearly comatose in its own right (but oh, wondrous sight, she slept on her side and, chilled by the air conditioning, curled up and pulled the blankets to her chin!), leaving her family to make the explanations. They even told the truth…with a few edits. Drakken became "a scientific genius who owed Kim", and the doors had been held closed because the process that had healed Kim was a delicate, easily-disrupted one.

Everyone wanted to take her home as soon as she woke up in the morning. Unfortunately, "everyone" also knew that wasn't a good idea. If nothing else, she had to be kept under observation for a few days to make sure that Drakken's process didn't have any side-effects. Instead, they brought her some underwear and pajamas from home, as well as a few books.

She didn't need the latter very much. As soon as visiting hours arrived, she didn't have a moment's boredom.

Day One

Drakken hadn't been kidding when he'd said "ravenously hungry". Kim had expected her stomach to be shrunken and easily-filled. Instead, it had seemingly been replaced by a furnace. She was finishing up her second breakfast (this one prepared by her mother instead of the hospital. Her third, prepared by Ron, was coming soon) when there came a knock at the door.

"Uh…hello?" A familiar voice called. "I'm looking for – "

Kim spun toward the door, her mouth full of the last of sausage wrapped in the last of the French toast, her fingers sticky with the last of the syrup. Her eyes went wide and she swallowed faster than she really should have.

"Wade?" She asked, astonished to see the preteen computer genius in the flesh.

"Kim!" Wade rushed to her side, then stopped. "Uh…will I hurt or infect you or anything if I touch you?" He asked.

Kim was too happy and excited to see him to look at him quizzically. "No, no, of course not, just let me get the sticky off my hands." She wiped her hands with a moist towlette that her mother had left for her (knowing her daughter's breakfast preferences), and then reached out for him.

He took the slender, pale hand in his dark, thick-fingered one.

"So what's the sitch, Wade?" She grinned. She could feel an unaccustomed pull as she did so, and she knew that the grin was marred by a scar across her lips, but she was too happy to see him to worry about that. Much.

"Kim, I…"

Then he surprised her. He took her hand in both of his, staring at it in a kind of wonder.

"Wade?"

"We were so worried for so long," he said, as much to himself as to her. "And I just couldn't bring myself to touch you while you were out. Everybody else would hold your hand, or stroke your hair, so I knew it was all right, but I was still afraid. It's like leaving my room, you know? I could only bring myself to do that a couple of times, but I just had to visit you. And every time I did, I kept thinking that if we lost you, then I would have only met you for real once, on the same side of a computer screen."

Then…funny how such a simple thing could be such a wonder under the right circumstances…she leaned forward, reached out with her other hand, and clasped both of his.

"Wade? Are you okay?"

That was when he shocked her. He pressed her hands – one too smooth, the other rough and ridged – to his cheeks and started to cry.

"So worried for so long," He sobbed. "And I never touched…all the handshakes, all the hugs…none, gone…"

Wade was not okay. Wade was having a breakdown.

But maybe the breakdown could be the first step toward being okay. Wade was a ten-year-old boy. Much like the Tweebs, though she usually didn't (okay, never did) think of him that way. He was her friend. He cared about her. And he was taking comfort in a way that he had denied himself in the (could it really have been so long?) weeks that she had been...out.

First day back, and already somebody needed her help.

I should probably feel imposed, but somehow this makes me feel better. I'm in the hospital and barely strong enough to walk to the bathroom, but somebody needs me. And I can handle this one.

She wasn't strong enough to pick Wade up, as she would have been a month ago. But she could still reach down and help him into the bed with her, then cradle him while he sobbed and stroke his back and whisper:

"It's okay…I'm here now. You didn't lose me."

----

Wade eventually calmed down, and after he swore her to secrecy about his little breakdown, he filled her in on all that had happened in the world of superheroes and villains while she was…gone.

Not much, as it turned out. Drakken's hospital visit had been the first anyone had heard of either him or Shego since the attack. Apparently, they'd actually managed to keep their secret lair secret for once. Dementor was back to ranting and raving, but he still preferred to do it from the safety of his cell. Duff Killigan was still in a deep depression after Ron's little accident with the terraformer. The Seniors were "preparing their defenses" for the next superhero (the game had no challenge without one, after all), Monkey Fist had disappeared almost as completely as Drakken, and if DNAmy was genetically engineering new Cuddlebuddies, they were mostly small and harmless (though a full-sized Pandaroo had been captured in a bamboo forest in mainland China).

Adrena Lynn was no longer much of a threat to anyone.

It was no more than a few minutes after Wade left, promising to keep her informed as always and to actually come visit again (for both their sakes), that Ron returned. He came bearing her third breakfast (more of a brunch by this point), and trailing her next two visitors behind him. His parents.

Of all the visits that Kim had that day, the one from the Stoppables was the only one that was awk-weird. They were glad to see her, and ecstatic that she was okay. Well, okay-ish. Better than anyone had dared to hope. They said all the comforting things that parents say to sick children, and all of the proud things that adults say to young heroes.

But still, something was wrong, and Kim didn't figure out what it was until after they left. She didn't talk about it with Ron. Yet.

----

The next set of visitors were a bit more relaxed.

----

"Kim!"

Monique crossed the room in two bounds, all but leaping into bed with Kim as she scooped the fragile white girl up into a fierce hug.

"Oh, I am so glad to see you, girl!"

Kim hugged back, as fiercely as she could. "And I'm glad to see you, too, Monique." After a moment, though, she had to add: "But oxygen is becoming an issue."

Monique laughed and let her go. "I have missed you so much, girlfriend! I have so much to tell you!"

"It's not about supervillains, is it?"

Monique looked at her like a dumber question had never been asked. "It's about men, girl. As in, I found me a good one."

"Ooh!" Kim squealed and clapped. "Spill!"

For a moment, if she ignored her surroundings, it was like the last month hadn't happened. She and Monique were just girls, and there was gossip to share.

"I can do better than that," Monique said. "I'll show you." She turned to the door. "You can come in now, Sugar," she sing-songed.

Felix, in a new wheelchair and smiling tolerantly at his girlfriend's theatrics, cruised in through the door. "Hey, Kim," he greeted her, bracing himself for the reaction they'd already gotten several times in the weeks they'd been together. Not the surprise that was currently occupying Kim's face – Monique had induced that deliberately, after all – but shock, confusion, and a bit of pity directed at Monique for having saddled herself with a cripple.

None of it came.

"Wow," Kim said. "You weren't kidding about finding a good one."

"You have no idea how good, girl." She grinned at Ron. "But your boy will have an idea when I tell him that what he told me was absolutely right."

For some reason, Ron blushed to the roots of his hair, while Felix gave a proud little smile.

"Monique!" Ron squawked. "WTMFI!"

Monique's grin just broadened. "My man doesn't brag, so I have to do it for him."

"Well, I'm just glad you finally discovered him," Kim said. "And didn't take as long as I did with Ron."

"Amen, girl. I didn't have twelve years to waste."

"Make it five…no, four. It's only fair to count from when we both hit puberty."

"Fair enough."

During this conversation, Felix had cruised up to the side of Kim's bed, and began…surveying her was the only word Kim could really come up with. He was looking her up and down, as many males had before, but there was nothing sexual about it.

"Spinal damage," He said at last.

Both girls fell silent and stared at him blankly.

"What?" Kim said at last.

"Just go with it, KP," Ron said. "He's initiating you into the manly sport of comparing injuries. It's a gesture of honor."

"Oookay." Oh, why not? "Can I try again?"

"Okay. Spinal damage."

She thought about it for a second. "Umm…massive scarring."

"You're still mobile," he countered.

Normally, Kim would have felt several different kinds of guilty and uncomfortable at that statement. This time…

"Yeah, but you're still pretty."

Felix beamed. "What do you know, she's a natural!"

Ron was standing behind her, so Kim didn't see that his smile was forced. When he said "This is KP, my man. She learns fast when there's competition involved." It sounded natural enough.

"Learn?" Kim said. "I've had to deal with Bonnie for how many years now? I know when it's all about the one-upmanship." She grinned at Felix. "But the way you do it is more fun."

"Even if I did win."

"Oh, you did, did you?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "Blasted by a supervillain," she challenged.

Felix stared at her for a moment, then sighed and dropped his head in surrender. "Hit by a car," he admitted. "Damn it, she really is a natural."

She sat up proudly. "You should know better by now, Felix. I can do anything."

"Except enter a kitchen without causing structural damage," Ron said.

Monique and Felix laughed, but Kim just turned to face him. "But Ronnie…" She began. Then she hit him with a full force Puppy-Dog Pout from ambush. "You'd feed me, wouldn't you?"

"Aaahh! Yes! Yes! Of course! Just put it away! Put it away!" When he dared to open his eyes again, Kim's grin had returned to normal…well, as normal as it could anymore. "Not cool using that casually, KP," he growled.

She just grinned impishly at him and turned back to Felix and Monique.

"Competition or not, you shouldn't say things like that, girl," Monique said. "About still being pretty, I mean. So you got a couple scars…what do you think makeup is for? You've covered up zits before, right?"

"Cheerleaders don't get zits," Kim said automatically.

"Bet they don't fart, either," Monique retorted. "And they don't sweat, they glow."

"That's exactly right," Kim said, looking very serious for about ten seconds before bursting into giggles. When she was done giggling, she sighed. "It's okay, Monique," she said. "He's just trying to teach me how to be proud of my war wounds, guy-style. I mean, why should they be the only ones that get to beat their chests and howl?"

Monique gestured toward her breasts.

Kim looked down at her own.

"Other than the fact that that would hurt more…uh, point is, bragging fun! At least with friends! Now…speaking of bragging…I want to know what you were bragging to Ron about earlier…"

For the first time since Kim had known him, Felix actually blushed.

----

As happy as she was to have visitors, Kim didn't really have the energy to deal with them for long. Not that she would ever admit that, of course. She was seriously drooping by the time Felix and Monique excused themselves – promising to return the next day and insisting that yes, they really had to go, she needed to get some rest.

That being the case, Ron expected her to be asleep when he got back from walking Monique and Felix to the door (and just incidentally, filling them in on Drakken's cure and his deal along the way, and asking for their help in making sure Kim didn't kill herself with a Kimness-imposed recovery schedule). But she wasn't. She was sitting up, waiting for him. He'd seen that look on her face before. She was exhausted, but determined. There was something she needed to do before she crashed.

"Hey, KP," He greeted her. "Don't you think you need a nap?"

He expected an argument. Since when did anyone – let alone him – tell Kim Possible to slow down? Forget about stopping.

"Yes."

Okay, KP too exhausted for denial. Scary. Not the scariest thing he'd seen in the last few weeks, but scary nonetheless.

"But I wanted to talk to you first."

Nothing good ever came after 'I want to talk to you'. If people have something good to say, they don't feel the need to warn you about it.

"There's no hurry," he said quickly. "I'm not going anywhere. Well, I mean, you're dad's shift is starting soon, so in that sense, I'm going somewhere, but in the larger sense – "

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," she interrupted.

"What? Your dad's shift? Nothing I can do about it, KP. I know he keeps trying to play the games from the Rocket Booster PlayPak with you, but – "

"Ron."

Ron dropped his bluster with a sigh. "Yeah."

"I want to talk about…you going anywhere."

Ron took a deep breath and braced himself. This is it. She's decided I wasn't worth what's happened to her, and she never wants to look at me again.

"Yeah, KP?"

"Ron, I…" She paused. Then, incongruously, she started to sing: "Rock-a-bye Rufus, in the treetop…" She'd barely gotten to "When the bough breaks" before they both heard snoring coming from Ron's pocket and she broke off the song. "…I want this to be a private conversation."

Ron didn't want it to be. He wanted to wake Rufus up. He wanted some back-up, some moral support.

"Okay." Here it comes.

"Ron, you're the best friend I could ever even imagine having."

Here it…huh?

"You stayed here three weeks, off and on. That's pretty impressive even for family. I don't know how many friends there are in the world who would do something like that."

"There must be some," he said. "Besides, it wasn't just visiting. There were security issues and stuff."

"I know," she said. "But still…I want you to know how grateful I am, and how, even if it hadn't already been the case, you're the best friend I've ever had in my life, and probably ever will."

Ron beamed, and he felt his heart starting to melt in his chest, but he didn't relax quite yet. "I hear a 'but' coming," he said.

Kim took a deep breath. "No 'but'. I just want you to know that…I understand completely if you want to go back to just being friends. A best friend like you is better than any boyfriend." She smiled at him, but the smile was terribly fragile.

Ron stared at her. In its way, this was even worse than what he'd feared. "KP…are you…are you breaking up with me?"

"No! Well, not exactly. I'm just saying that I understand if you can't see me 'that way' anymore…"

Ron scowled. "Sounds to me like you're asking me to break up with you. Is that it?"

"Ron, please, that's not it at all."

"So you're not trying to feed me to the black hole so you won't have to feel guilty about dumping me?"

"No! Ron, please don't make this harder than it has to be!"

"Why should I make it easy? You're dumping me! You didn't make it easy on me when I tried to dump you."

"I was moodulated! And this is way diff! I'm not the girl you took to the prom!"

"No? What's changed?"

"Ron, please, you're doing this on purpose..."

"No, seriously, what happened to make you a totally different person than the one I've known for the last thirteen years?"

"Ron, please – "

She was in agony. And so was he. But this was something that had to be done – just like Mrs. Dr. P had done to him, and he had done to Monique.

"If you're going to dump me, you owe me that much."

"I'm hideous, Ron!" She wailed. "I was pretty when we got together! Now I look like Frankenstein's monster! How can you ever look at me 'like that' again? I'd rather break up now than have you stay with me and pretend because you feel sorry until you can't take it anymore! I'd rather hold onto our friendship than lose everything. There! Are you happy that I said it?"

"No," he said. "I'm hurt and insulted that you think I'm that shallow. For crying out loud – first me, then Monique, now you. What is it about this thing that makes everybody want to give up?"

Kim looked away from him. "I don't think you're shallow. I just think there's a difference between 'giving up' and facing reality."

Ron fell silent for a moment, carefully considering what he would say next. "KP, have I ever lied to you?"

"Yes."

Oh. Right. "Well, uh, would I lie about something this important?"

"If you thought you were protecting me."

Damn it, she was right. But he had to make her believe. He reached out and took her face in his hands and made her look at him.

"KP, I swear on the Torah, the Bible, the Qur'an, the Rig Veda, the Kama Sutra – any book you want to use – that what I'm about to say is the truth."

Kim's eyes widened a little. She'd seen this side of Ron before, but she had a feeling that she was the only one who ever had. And even she hadn't seen it often. "Okay," she said.

"You are not hideous. You. Have. Scars. You are scarred. That sucks. But what I want you to believe me about is that it doesn't matter." Kim tried to shake her head, but he held it steady. "Don't take my word for it. Your mother had three kids – two of them were twins. Does your father love her any less for the stretch marks?"

"Ron, this is way diff…"

"You're right! It is! Your scars aren't about other people, not even people that we made. You got those scars saving my personal life!"

That did it. Kim's eyes went wide as it finally hit home.

Certain that he wouldn't lose her attention now, Ron dropped his hands from her face and took up her hands in his instead. "Your enemies hate you whether you're pretty or not. Your friends, family, and the people you've saved could really not give less of a shit. And as for me…" He grinned. "You couldn't scare me away by turning into a monkey, so this is nothing." His grin softened to a fond smile. "As long as those scars are part of your face, they're beautiful."

Tears stood in Kim's eyes, but didn't flow. Instead, she took her hands out of his and held out her arms, inviting. Ron did his best to ignore their trembling and leaned in for the kind of kiss that he'd been planning to wait a few more days for, just in case she was too weak to survive more than three weeks' worth of backlog passion. Oh, well, if she needed one now, he was happy to oblige. They broke off the kiss much sooner than they once would have – Kim didn't have much wind these days – but Ron believed that he'd gotten the point across.

There was a smile on her face as she sat back in her bed. It wasn't nearly as fragile as her smile had been before, but it was saddish and strange. He didn't think she believed yet that it didn't matter, or even that it didn't matter to him. But she did believe that he loved her anyway. It was a start.

"Have I told you yet today how wonderful you are?" She asked.

He grinned down at her. "Actually, you told Monique, which is even better, but I wouldn't mind hearing it again."

"You're the most wonderful boyfriend a girl ever had."

"Glad the service meets with your approval."

After a moment's smiling silence, he took her hand again. "So what's got you so tweaked about this?" He asked. "Did you think I hadn't noticed they were there?" He paused, his face clouding over. "Was it the whole comparing thing with Felix? I didn't think that was the best of ideas."

She shook her head. Slowly. Her purpose spent, she was starting to drift off. "Felix is sweet, and the bragging was kind of fun. I think I like the boy way better than the girl way – building yourself up instead of tearing each other down."

Ron was still frowning, and she languidly raised her free hand and touched his lips. "It's not like my scars will go away if I ignore them, Ron. He was just trying to teach me a new way to deal with them. He understands more than anyone else how I want to be treated just like…well, anyone else. He's just being proactive about it."

She dropped her hand back to her covers. Her eyes started to drift closed, but she was clearly trying to keep them open just…a little…longer. "It wasn't him, anyway…it was a lot of things…this morning, they tried to hide it, but your parents…they were so scared. They couldn't stop thinking 'there but for the Grace of God goes our son'. "

Ron stiffened, but she squeezed his hand. "Don't be mad. Just don't go anywhere…you know…in the larger sense…"

"Don't worry, KP. Nothing's going to take me away from you."

But she was already asleep.

Ron watched her sleep,and he tried...

Something genuinely Good had just happened. Painful, but Good. He held her hand, and he stroked her hair, and he listened to her regular breathing, and he tried tolive in the Now, wherethe relief and happiness lived.

Tried to. Couldn't.

----

Kim woke up feeling like her bladder was about to pop. Her body was burning all the food she wolfed down like she was throwing it into an incinerator, but all the milk and juice and water and soda she used to wash it down had to go somewhere.

She didn't want to be awake. She didn't want to get out of bed. But she didn't want to use a bedpan, either, and she didn't even want to think of how such functions had been taken care of when she hadn't been able to wake up or get out of bed.

She hoped that whoever took that fucking picture got his camera shoved up his ass sideways by some celebrity's bodyguard.

Worry about that later. Right now, she was faced with a choice between getting up, calling a nurse, or wetting the bed. Of the three, option 'A' was the lesser evil. She lowered the bedrail – trying not to make noise, trying not to wake her father, he was so tired and asking him to help her get to the bathroom would be so humiliating…

For the same reason, she tried not to whimper as she slowly rolled off the bed and put her feet on the floor. It felt like some lunatic had hollowed the marrow out of her bones and stuffed them with ground glass instead.

Taking a deep breath, she lifted her weight off the bed. One step. Two. Three. Four. Her whole body trembled and her bladder throbbed with each step she took. Her own weight, reduced as it was, was too much for her to carry.

She wasn't going to make it. Her father would be awakened by the sound of her hitting the floor, and find her in a puddle of her own urine.

God, no.

There was a railing attached to the wall between the bed and the bathroom. Probably for this very reason.

One more step.

Throb.

Two.

Throb.

She stumbled, almost fell. Grabbed for the railing. Caught it. Caught herself. Leaned heavily.

Great. So much better. Dad would wake up to find her standing in a puddle of her own urine.

Not going to happen.

She gritted her teeth and took the last few steps.

With a shadow of her former grace, she turned on the light, closed the door (slammed the door – probably woke Daddy up after all), dropped her pants and sat down all in one spinning, falling motion.

Two kinds of relief flooded through her…and then she started to cry.

She was lucky, she told herself. So fantastically, unimaginably lucky. She kept telling herself that, and it was true. When she'd awakened yesterday, she'd been quadriplegic. Tonight, she had gotten up out of her bed and gone to the bathroom on her own. In a few minutes, she would get back up and go back to bed. Every other time in the history of the world that such a thing had happened, it had been a religious miracle. She was terribly weak – the body that had always been her tool, her weapon, her instrument for doing anything – was now a burden. But that would pass. And it could have been a prison. She was so very lucky.

But sometimes, the pain and the exhaustion and the fact that you need all of your strength to cross a room when you should be able to backflip down the hall and God damn it you're hungry again get to be too much. The truth that you're lucky isn't enough. That's when you cry.

In the following weeks, Kim came to learn that truth very, very well. Each time she gorged herself until she felt like her stomach was going to split, then found herself ravenous again half an hour later; each time she choked down some awful-tasting protein or calcium supplement because even that rate of consumption didn't replenish her hastily-repaired muscles and bones quickly enough; each time she looked into the mirror and saw a gaunt, raw-faced stranger there; every time her 'unbelievably fast recovery' meant that she could almost do something that she had taken for granted before…each time was another lesson.