I OWN Kim Possible and all related characters. I make millions off them. You have to pay me 5 bucks a word for reading this! Mua ha ha ha ha ha! Sorry, sorta lost it there. I actually don't own Kim Possible and am making no money from it. I get like that sometimes, but banging my head against my bathroom wall for 15 minutes usually fixes it.

Prodigy

Chapter 6 - Faint Reflections

From the personal files of Dr. Domovoi Troskey:

Like many people, I often find myself thinking about death. What happens when the human body dies? I do not believe that we simply cease to exist when we expire, though I do not pretend to know what does happen. From a scientific view, nothing ever really dies. Matter and energy adapt and change. Why should human beings be the sole exception to this rule? While I, like many, am somewhat anxious of death, I would not say that I fear it. In a certain way I am rather curious to see what happens when our organs and brain stop working. But I do not seek death. Which is why I am heading into surgery in 10 minutes.

I swore that #171 would be the last procedure I would perform. However, they brought me yet another subject. All the former procedures took place in my lab, but this one was held in the surgical unit. This puzzled me until I saw her state. She had obviously been beaten and had several gunshot wounds. Rudimentary surgery had been done, just enough to keep her alive, and she had been prepped for the procedure.

Of course I refused vehemently. All delusions that nothing was wrong were long gone and I had finally faced the fact that something terrible was going on. Unfortunately, as I feared, I was in too deep to escape. Their veiled threats suddenly became much more blunt and I was all but ordered to continue. As I said, I do not seek death so I will do the procedure to save my own worthless skin. I considered simply refusing and letting them end my guilty existence, but there are still things I need to know.

I have heard rumors that the company has developed its own drug for unleashing psychic ability, without any of my humanitarian precautions. The jump from registry number 171 to number 173 suggests that they may have already tried their drug and failed. Perhaps this is why they are determined that I continue. I fear that by going through with this it will allow them to complete their plans, but I have no choice. I don't think I will live long afterwards. They have agreed to let me meet with the other subjects at a different location, but I don't believe them. I am not giving up though. I have one thing left to try. I pray that it will do some good, for I cannot stand the thought of dying without making up for my sins in some small way.

Bonnie.

The name looms large in my head, made of letters of steel and iron. They hang in the darkness, suspended by metal cables. I try to say the name, but my mouth is gone. My head is gone, as well as my body. I'm not there. Everything is black, even the letters are swallowed up.

Where am I?

I feel something under my feet. A hard, smooth surface. Suddenly I'm looking at the back of my eyelids. I open them. Detail comes into focus revealing a gymnasium. I'm wearing something tight. A leotard with an attached short skirt. Others are clustered around me, all dressed the same. I see a head of red hair and the name 'Possible' floats down slowly before my eyes; sinking into the floor at my feet.

The scene suddenly shifts as we all turn at the sound of an explosion. One wall collapses and men in red jumpsuits begin storming through. The others are screaming and running, trying to get to the doors across the room. All except one, of course. I feel an unexplainable pang of contempt as the red-headed one runs towards the men. I search for feelings as I watch her fight them, but all I find is annoyance. I seem to be frozen in place, whether from fear or to spite the red-head, I don't know. I flinch as one is thrown towards me. He's on his feet in a second, grabbing me around the neck and pulling me close.

He's yelling something to the red-head, telling her to give up or he'll hurt me. It's strange. I don't feel much fear or anger. The strongest feeling is no more than a vow. To make sure I am NOT rescued by the red-head. Don't let her save me. With this one thought burning in my head I lash out violently sending us stumbling backwards. My hands happen to grab the hood and visor that covers his face as we fall. I land on the ground, his mask in my hands. I look up to find him staring back at me. I once again see the face of the killer. The face of the man who's heart I ripped out not too long ago.

He makes a grab for me, but I'm already scrambling away. The red-head pounces on him then. She didn't save me. I did it myself. Why do I feel so good about that? The man orders a retreat. The men throw some canisters on the ground releasing thick clouds of smoke. I cough and hear the red-head doing the same close by. By the time everything clears the men are gone. The red-head's saying something about them, reasoning out some hypothesis. I throw a snide comment about her letting them get away and walk away from her.

Pain suddenly creeps into my head and the memory wavers. For an instance I feel arms around me, carrying me. I hear whispers and the sound of boots passing by. Then I fall away, once again finding myself in the house I'd dreamed of before. I once again watch as Roberts calmly shoots my mom. It IS my mom. Somehow I know it this time. I can feel the tears running down my face as I squeeze behind my bed, hiding in the small cubby hole there as I hear more gunfire.

I lay there and listened to Roberts yelling at his men. He tells them to burn the house. His words don't register until I feel the heat and smell the smoke. I crawl from my hiding place, coughing as the smoke becomes thicker. I make it to the stairs before I collapse, my lungs aching for air. The sound of sirens begins to make its way to my ears and I crawl forwards, pulling myself down the stairs.

When I get to the bottom I see my mom lying on the ground. Flames are starting to appear on her legs and working their way up. The sirens are louder now and all I can think of is getting her to them. They would help her. My breath comes in painful hacks as I struggle to pull her to the door. But the fire has beaten me there. I stumble back as the heat blisters my skin, falling again to my knees. Then the door splinters. Firemen rush through. One grabs me, holding me protectively against him as he rushes outside. As he lifts me up I look back over his shoulder at the motionless, smoking form of my mom.

The memory fades again and I feel a cold wind. I can hear the crunch of snow as I'm carried along. When I finally started to wake up I still didn't move; partly because the person carrying me was running and I didn't want to make them trip, and partly because I still ached all over. My eyes were halfway cracked open, watching the ground pass by. I began seeing tree trunks and other vegetation and soon we were slowing down. Kim, who had been carrying me over her shoulder (another pang of bitterness at that realization), knelt down, leaning me against a tree while Stoppable went back a bit to make sure we weren't followed.

"Bonnie?" Seeing my eyes open, Possible moved to wipe some of the blood from my face. "Are you okay?"

" 'm fine," I croaked, slapping her hand away with as much force as a wet noodle. "I don' need y'r help." Possible looked a little surprised at my snippy reply. Frankly, I was rather surprised myself. I had no reason to hate the girl, yet everything about her just rubbed me the wrong way. Luckily I was saved any awkwardness by Ron showing up.

"Not followed," he said, rather breathless from running.

"That won't last," I shot back, managing to pull myself up a little straighter. "They'll have guards combing the whole area soon."

"You're right," Possible agreed, looking back over her shoulder. "We're gonna have to get outta here fast. Think you can walk?"

"I said I was fine," I growled, standing up only to fall down again when my leg gave out, bringing a fresh nosebleed as I whacked against the tree. Wiping at my nose with my sleeve, I grudgingly accepted Possible's help in standing. Being more careful this time, I eventually managed to stay on my feet unaided and we were soon putting as much distance between ourselves and site C as we could.

My pack had been left in the room we had found Possible in, but luckily Ron still had his which contained another jacket and gloves for Kim who was still in nothing but the hospital clothing. We didn't have any extra boots so we cut off strips of a blanket to tie around her feet. It wasn't great, but it would do for now. Still afraid of pursuit by the guards, we hurried on into the woods surrounding the compound, crossing over a couple streams in an attempt to hide our tracks. I mostly tailed along behind Possible and Ron, feeling a little worthless next to the red-head's obvious experience. As night began to fall Kim decided it was about time for a break. Though I'd never have admitted it, I was relieved for the rest; my feet had been aching for the last mile or so.

"Wait here for a second," Possible said, turning back the way we came, "I'm gonna circle back and look for any guards." In a second she had vanished into the trees, leaving Ron and me by ourselves. His eyes remained locked on were Kim had disappeared from sight, the look on his face was bringing back that bitter feeling in my gut. I had been doing my best to ignore those thoughts for awhile now, but somehow they just kept creeping in.

"So," I finally said, growing sick of the silence, "you two old friends or something?" Ron glanced over at me in mild surprise, whether from my sudden interest or from the question itself I couldn't say.

"Um," his voice was still hesitant and reserved from the effects of the drugs, but he seemed more inclined to talk. "Yeah. We've been... friends since... pre-school." He looked back towards the path Possible had taken, his eyes taking on an almost wistful look. "We're... family." About a second after he said that last word, his eyes darted back in my direction, a look of extreme pity easily readable. I only grunted to his answer, refusing to think about what that look meant and about how sickened I was at the thought of him and Possible pitying me.

We were saved from any more awkward conversation by Kim's return. She was breathing a little heavily with the effort of running through the snow and she paused a little, catching her breath, before speaking.

"No one's following," she said, causing me to release the breath I didn't know I'd been holding. "We'll work a little further into the trees where there's less snow and take a break till morning." The sky was just starting to show signs of dusk as we walked deeper into the shelter of the forest. It wasn't long before we had a fire going and the sleep rolls from Ron's pack laid out. There wasn't much conversation as we ate some of the rations we had brought along. I passed most of the time watching Kim and Ron touch each other. It wasn't intentional I don't think, more of a subconscious need to reassure themselves that the other was still there, mostly just a hand on the arm or knee.

Part of me was kind of touched, and a little envious, of the obvious signs of their caring for each other. Another part, however, just wanted to roll its eyes at the tender scene and say something cruel and scathing. These thoughts of hostility were rather confusing. I had few memories from before the hospital, but it was obvious that I had known these two at some point and I found it a little worrying that Ron had sparked no memory or emotion in me, yet Possible kept making these hateful feelings boil to the surface. Was my hatred so important to me that it would be one of the only parts of my memory that stayed intact? Even the memories of my house and family burning were not as tangible as my instinctive disliking of this girl. It sort of made me wonder just what kind of a person I was.

"Hey," Kim suddenly called softly, snapping me out of my thoughts. Ron had fallen asleep on one of the bed rolls, his face looking a little healthier than when I had found him in the asylum. "So, Ron says you don't remember anything. Nothing at all?" She turned the second part of the statement into a question and I squashed the immediate reaction to tell her it was none of her business.

"Not much," I answered instead. "I've been remembering a few things, mostly when I'm sleeping, but it's all a little blurry."

"What do you remember?" she asked, her voice still kind and gentle. All it did, however, was grate on me even more, but I forced myself to be as polite as I could.

"I remember a gym," I started slowly, trying to put the jumbled memories into an order that seemed right. "Someone attacked it. I think they were looking for you." I couldn't hide the bitter tone that crept into my voice at that statement. "Other than that, I remember some soldiers, a woman mostly, and lots of shooting. And... " my voice caught in my throat a little as I tried to continue. "... I... remember my house... burning. I remember my mom d... " I stopped there, not able to go on. Possible didn't say anything, just looked at me sadly as I tried to stop my hands from shaking. "Is there anyone left?" I asked softly once I had calmed down a little. Somehow I already knew the answer.

"They... " Possible choked a little herself, her eyes tearful as she stared at me, not wanting to tell me. "I'm sorry Bonnie," she finally whispered, turning her head downwards to hide her face. Deep down I had known the truth of course, but part of me still sunk at her answer. For awhile neither of us talked, our eyes on the crackling fire as we both lost ourselves in our own thoughts.

"I... wasn't a good person, was I?" I finally asked, looking towards her again.

"No," she immediately said, trying to deny it, "you... you could be nice when you wanted. It was just..."

"Don't lie to me, Possible," I spat, cutting her off. And suddenly, there it was. She hid it well, wiping the look from her face and turning away a little, but I had still seen it. That look of disgust and frustration that was an instinctual reaction to my crass statement. Maybe I was empathing some of her feelings even, but regardless, the conclusion was the same. She hated me. Not maliciously and perhaps not even willingly, but it was still there. "Yeah," I said, smiling grimly, "that's what I thought."

"Bonnie, I didn't mean... " she said quickly, trying to deny it of course, but trailing off when she couldn't find the words. She finally sighed and gave up, turning to go to bed. "Look, I'll, um, sleep with Ron. You can have the other bed." She spoke quietly, obviously feeling guilty. I nodded and went over to lay down. I glanced back as I kneeled down, watching as Kim climbed under the blanket with Ron, snuggling against him a little as she closed her eyes. There was nothing sexual about it, more of a sisterly thing. I know she meant well, trying to give me my space/privacy or whatever. She just didn't realize that as she curled up under the blanket with Ron, I was left with nothing but the cold night and my own thoughts. And neither of them was comforting. I finally fell asleep, my head still full of questions about who I used to be.

The dreams came rather quickly, suddenly surrounding me with what looked like a camp ground. I couldn't say for sure, but I think I was younger, though I couldn't tell you how much younger. Other girls were gathered around the grass, going through different routines. I was right there with them, going through the flips and choreography, feeling a hint of pride at my slight superiority to the rest. One girl in particular was having quite a bit of trouble.

I could tell she knew how to do the routine, but her movements were stiff and jerky, causing her to loose rhythm and end up stepping out of synch with the rest. Of course this caused the mandatory giggles from some of the others which brought the expected reddening of the girl's face. The practice soon ended and the group broke into smaller groups, the normal teenager conversations striking up. I joined one of the groups briefly, but eventually got bored with them and wandered off on my own.

I passed another gathering of three or four girls, giggling and whispering to each other. From what I heard, the topic of their amusement was the unsteady blonde girl. They seemed completely ignorant of the fact that the girl in question was sitting nearby and that their whispers were loud enough for both her and me to hear every word. She sat with her hands clasped in her lap, her face red and almost tearful. Not that I gave it much attention. I wasn't the Peace Corps after all; I had no obligation to try and make her feel better.

Wandering further from the others I eventually stopped in a small clearing not far away. Climbing up on a stack of boulders I kicked off my shoes, letting my slightly aching toes wiggle in the breeze. As always, my solitude didn't last. A wave of annoyance washed over me as the blonde stumbled out of the trees, walking dejectedly across the clearing to slump against a tree. It was obvious she was on the verge of crying. I rolled my eyes at the sight. Why was everyone so dramatic about everything?

"Would you cut it out?" I finally called, rather harshly. The girl looked up, startled. Her pained expression went from surprised to shamed and then got even more depressed, if that was possible. I sighed again. I had seen girls like her before, all weak and sensitive. It made me sick. "Bawling isn't going to help anything," I snapped at her. "What's your problem anyway?" Of course, I knew exactly what was wrong, but I had to keep up the air of indifference.

"Everyone's laughing at me," she sniffed, wiping at her nose. "They're all whispering to each other about me, I can tell."

"Well it's not that surprising. Given the way you were stumbling about out there," I answered immediately. I couldn't be babying every girl who was having problems.

"I KNOW how to do it," she suddenly said, surprising me a little with the sudden bite in her voice. For a second her fists tightened and her eyes narrowed into a glare that fixed right on my own. It only lasted for a moment, however, before the defeated slump came back and her eyes dropped to the ground. "I just... get so nervous," she mumbled. For awhile I just watched her sitting there, her legs pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her knees. My initial labeling of her as just another frail little airhead was now in question. That sudden show of anger intrigued me. Maybe there was something more to this girl after all.

"It's obvious you can do it," I finally said, earning a surprised look. "If you weren't so uptight you wouldn't have so much trouble."

"Well what do you expect me to do," she cried, the anger showing again. "The coaches don't have time to help me and it's not like anyone else is gonna give me a hand." She dropped her head back into her arms. I rolled my eyes again, dropping down from my seat and walking over to her.

"Get up," I said flatly. She looked up again, her expression confused. "Do you want some help or not," I sighed impatiently. The girl finally got the message, quickly pulling herself up and standing there, looking grateful and sheepish.

"Th-thanks, Bonnie," she mumbled shyly. I didn't ask how she knew my name; everyone knew who I was.

"Well you're too dang pathetic on your own," I answered, looking her up and down. "Maybe if I can give you a little backbone you won't be such a waste." I motioned her to follow me, but then paused, glancing back. "What's your name, by the way," I asked. She looked up, surprised, a small smile making its way to her face.

"Tara," the name slipped from my mouth as I woke up. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, actually feeling pretty good for once. This had been the first dream that hadn't involved the pain and death that seemed to have filled my life before I was taken by the NDC. The blonde girl, Tara, seemed to register in my memory. It was a mix of friendship and protectiveness. I smiled a little, remembering the feeling from the dream when she had thanked me, her eyes so grateful. Maybe I wasn't such a bitch after all.

I pulled myself out of bed, looking over to see Ron rolling up the other bedroll and cleaning up the fire. I silently began helping, not really feeling like breaking the early morning stillness quite yet. My mind was still preoccupied with the dream, going over the memory again and again. It hadn't been a very dramatic or useful revelation, but it was a lot more enjoyable to dwell on than the others had been. As we finished cleaning up I finally decided to say something.

"Where's Possible?" I asked, looking over to Ron.

"Went to look for any guards," Ron answered shortly. "She was afraid some might still be trying to find us." He still seemed a little distant, but his over-all demeanor was getting much easier and friendly. Looking at him I got the feeling that the dower expression that he had worn ever since I met him was not Ron's natural disposition. Kim showed up soon after that, trudging back towards us through the snow.

"I went pretty far back, but there's no sign of anyone," she said, sounding a little concerned.

"Isn't that a good thing?" I asked, puzzled by her seeming uneasiness.

"I'd expect them to have least searched into the woods a little farther," she answered as she helped us repack Ron's bag. "But there's no trace of them pursuing us past the first river. It's almost like something spooked 'em into calling it off." I wasn't sure whether to feel happy or worried about that idea. I suddenly understood why Kim was nervous.

"Guess we better get movin' then," I fastened up my coat and replaced my boots as Ron shouldered the pack and we made ready to leave. We started back through the woods, aiming for the highway that was still a good three miles away. The snow slowed our progress and made it harder to walk, but we pressed on, each of us motivated by the memories of our personal nightmares. My mind began to wander to other things, wondering about Greta and the others, feeling the pain of Troskey's death again... unfortunately I should have been watching where I was going as I smacked into a low hanging branch.

"Damn," I muttered, stumbling back and holding my throbbing nose. A drop of blood escaped, falling to the ground. My eyes suddenly latched onto it as it soaked into the snow. Another landed near it as my heart began beating faster and my vision clouded. Then I was standing in a different place, somewhere that looked like site C. The people around me were falling to the ground, blood falling into the snow as gunfire tore through them. Someone grabbed me, pulling me away from the guns and into a building. She smiled, taking the dog tags from around her neck and putting it on mine.

"Don't look," she whispered, holding me close as pounding began on the door. Her rifle lay on the floor, ammunition completely spent. "Don't look." The door broke open. More gunfire tore through her and into me. We fell together, her body covering mine protectively even in death. I felt myself bleeding and my vision began to go dark.

"This one's still alive," someone said over me, poking at me with the barrel of his gun. "Should I finish 'er off?"

"No," another answered, "get her to the docs first. They're lookin' for more subjects fer their new project. Might as well let 'em take a look at her. If they can use her they'll patch 'er up; if not... well, she won't be livin' that much longer anyway." I felt hands pull me from under the body and then... and then Possible was shaking me by the shoulders as I kneeled in the snow.

"Bonnie!" Her voice was filled with so much concern. "Bonnie, what's wrong?" How could she be so worried about me? I didn't remember much, but I knew we weren't friends. For some reason her selfless caring just sickened me.

"I'm FINE, Possible," I growled, pushing her roughly away from me. I pulled myself to my feet, glaring at Kim. "Would you stop being so damned helpful. You don't like me and I'm pretty sure I didn't like you." My head was still swimming from my sudden vision. I knew I was getting panicked, but I couldn't seem to think straight anymore. "Why won't you just HATE ME!" I cried, my voice turning into a scream.

"Bonnie, please," Kim held up her hands defensively, trying to calm me down. "It's not like that. Just let me help... " She was suddenly cut off by a roaring noise from overhead. Turning around I saw some sort of aircraft hovering over the trees. It looked like a cross between a jet and a helicopter as it descended towards us.

"Subjects Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable identified," a voice came over some sort of speaker system. "Third hostile is unknown. Neutralize and proceed with pick-up." I started to open my mouth to ask just WHAT was going on when a hatch on the bottom of the vehicle opened up. I caught a brief glimpse of someone with a rifle before a sharp pain lanced through my thigh. My vision was already going dark as I looked down at the dart in my leg. As the speaker sounded again I fell into the snow and slipped into unconsciousness.

"Hostile neutralized. Retrieve targets."

To be continued...

Yamal - Yeah I've gotten really slow with my updates. This is a combination of worldly problems, a bout of writer's block, and just plain old laziness. Rest assured, I'm not abandoning this story and I WILL finish it. No matter how much I try to stop myself.

gargoylesama - Thanks. I really wanted to keep her identity questionable right up until the end of chapter 5. Heh, I even threw in the little clone red herring in the middle of the same chapter. Glad to see you liked it.

Scarlet Azalea - Yuck, exams. Hope those went well. As for the tense shift. Well, I could say that it was an artistic choice to make her dazed state seem more surreal. Or maybe I just screwed up and didn't notice. Either or, I guess.

swk3000 - Gracious. I'm glad I wasn't too transparent. I wanted it to be somewhat of a surprise.

exeditor - Thanks for the review. I think it should go another couple chapters or so. I sometimes add or delete stuff so it's hard to say. Spoilers in the reviews... ouch, I never even considered that. I'll have ta keep that in mind when I review stuff.

CheeseKing - Well I didn't get it before the end of the month, but I guess it's better late than never (I hope). Anyway here's the next chapter for ya. And another cliffhanger. I'm incorrigible.

Gijinka Renamon - Thanks, I shall.

Laura V. Bleediotie - Hey thanks. It's nice to see that my attempt at a plot twist was kind of successful. Hope your head's still there since it took me so long to update. Eh, my creativity sometimes gets lethargic, what can I say.

TAS 14 - Alright! It's nice to hear people are enjoying it so much. As to why Bonnie was running around with soldiers, well that'll be explained soon.

Jezrianna2.0 - Hey, my little clone hint didn't go unnoticed. I really wanted to convey the feeling of confusion with this story and tried to keep just about everything questionable. Even the title was meant to change meaning, changing focus from the psychic experiments to whatever was going on in site C. I promise some major tying up of plot threads real soon. This all comes together, I swear.