Disclaimer: Kim Possible and all related titles, characters, and logos are © Disney Channel, Bob Schooley, and Mark McCorkle. I own nothing, and sadly, neither do you. Life is cruel.
A/N: Just a little fic I'm gonna enter at RS dot net. A simple, K/R Halloween story.
Many thanks goes, of course, to my invisible beta reader, Robert. Many thanks, dude! Also to Aero Tendo, whose creative works have inspired me. Great job, and keep up the awesome work! And to momike, for being a regular reviewer. Many thanks, and a Naco is on it's way. And, last but not least, 52311, for being such a... spastic reviewer. Danke gracias and all that.
Oh, and to all you other famous people (like CaptainKodak1, yvj, Zaratan, G-Go, and MrDrP) whom I will always adore but will never measure up to. Thanks for setting the bar high, guys. I'll always enjoy your stories.
October 31st: Take II
by 3VAD127
Part I: Double Surprise
October 30, 2006. Kimberly Ann Possible stared at her computer, the white screen in front of her holding her gaze. She mumbled something under her breath, then tapped the glass on the monitor. She would've died to have upgraded to a flat-panel, but her parents said it was too expensive. Rocket scientist and a brain surgeon? 'Sha, right.
Kim blinked, her eyes traveling toward the flashing black line, the only thing standing out on the sparse white screen. Beside the words "October 30, 2006", the line appeared, disappeared, appeared, disappeared. It challenged not only her mind, but her comprehensive skills. Her ability to gather information and compile it into one main thought or idea. It challenged her very being. And, unfortunately, it was the only way to graduate high school. She sighed for what seemed like the millionth time. As a senior, it was her official duty to write a paper. But not just any paper, no. Barkin's literature class was quite a shocker. She (and all the other seniors) had to write a 200-line epic poem on a hero. What a way to go through the greatest school year of your life.
And so far, all she had was the date.
She swiveled her desk chair around to face her bed, eying the phone on her side table. Maybe Ron would have some ideas...
...after all, that's what boyfriends were for, right?
Before she could stop herself, she bounded over the short expanse of carpet to her bed; leaped over her soft, pink-and-red sheets; and had snatched the phone off of its base. Kim settled neatly onto her comforter, the down-filled softness soaking her in, her red hair sprawled across the white pillows. She hit the well-worn speed dial button and prayed he was home.
After a few rings, Ron Stoppable picked up the phone. "Hello?" His voice wafted from the speaker. She caught onto it, grabbing onto the receiver ever tighter. She stared at the ceiling, then replied:
"Hey, Ron. Listen, what are you doing? I was trying to work on my senior paper; you know, the one Tough-Love Barkin assigned a few weeks ago? Well, I haven't gotten very far. I was hoping you might be able to come over and help me out."
Ron's soft, cheery voice met her ears. "Uh, KP? Did you seriously just ask me for homework help?" Kim could sense the disbelief in his voice.
"Yeah! That's what I said, right? I'm sorry; was I unclear?" She flipped over to her stomach, viewing the cheerleading trophies on her headboard with little interest.
"No way, Kimbo; perfectly clear. I just wanted to make sure I had cleaned out my ears right."
Kim giggled, then flipped a stray strand of unruly hair out of her eyes.
"So, you wanna come over, Ron? Dad's at the space center working on a new project, and I'm sure Mom wouldn't mind." After the two had started dating, Mrs. Dr. Possible had become very supportive of their relationship. If Ron came over unexpectedly, she welcomed him in, all hours of the day or night. Then again, nothing much had really changed. Except the whole "dating" part.
The blond boy's enthusiasm grew to a crescendo. "Boy, would I ever!" Kim heard a few things rustling about, clothes being strewn across the room.
"I'll be over in a few, KP; don't start without me!"
Before Kim could say another word, Ron hung up. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and placed the phone back in its cradle. He was so... geeky sometimes. In a cute kind of way. Ron would be Ron, no matter what.
Kim crawled off her bed and sat on the floor. She looked down at her wrinkled pink kitty pajamas, then thought, I'd better change. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Five after nine. Too early to be dressed for bed. She somersaulted to a squatting position, then jumped up and sprang to her closet.
She threw open the double doors and searched through her closet for the perfect night-before-Halloween-study-session outfit. She reached deep into her closet and pulled out a frilly orange frock her Nana had given to her. Eeeww! She tossed it haphazardly onto her maroon comforter.
Kim threw each item aside as she rejected it. Skirts, tank tops, jeans, camis, capris, T-shirts, shorts, and everything else wearable under the sun was thrown into a heaping pile on her bed. She tossed the leftover hangars either onto her closet floor or left them on the clothes themselves.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity (but, in reality, was only about 10 minutes), she had cleaned out her whole closet. I still have nothing to wear!
Kim pulled her pillows out from under her pile and threw them angrily across the room. They landed with a soft "thud" against her wall and slid silently down to the floor. Not quite as satisfying as she had hoped.
Was it so much to ask as to have one decent item of clothing in my closet?
She sighed, her emerald green eyes searching the ceiling. She traced patterns and connected the little dots, hoping and half-expecting an answer to jump out at her. None did.
She flopped onto her bed and buried her face in a mass of 87 percent cotton, machine washable, pre-shrunken goodness. She took a deep breath, inhaling the traces of strawberry and the faint, yet distinct, smell she knew to be burnt cheese and boy. Ron.
He would be coming over soon.
Kim lifted her head suddenly, her eyes filled with panic. And then, like a terrifyingly cliché horror movie, the doorbell rang.
Ø
Ron Stoppable pulled his hand back after squashing the doorbell button. He had been eager to get over to the Possibles' after Kim had extended an invitation for homework help. He always enjoyed being at Kim's, homework or none.
Ron stood on the stoop, the chilly October air nipping at his bare arms. He shivered a little, then hiked his heavy backpack up a little higher. Barkin had given them not only their senior paper assignments that day, but also an extra-heavy dose of Monday morning blues. Ron sighed, jiggling his pants pocket a little.
"Rufus, you still awake?" He tore his hand away from his backpack strap and opened the flap to his trademark khaki cargo pocket.
The naked mole rat poked his head out of the pocket, then stared begrudgingly at Ron, despondent of him for waking him up. Rufus rubbed his sleep-filled eyes with his paws, then yawned tiredly. His whiskers ruffled in the night breeze, provoking Rufus to shiver and rub himself.
"Yeah, it is pretty cold, isn't it, Buddy? I did tell you to bring a jacket, but you didn't listen."
Rufus chattered something unintelligible in his mole rat language, then curled back up in the safety of Ron's pocket.
Suddenly, Mrs. Possible opened the door.
"Hola, Mrs. Dr. P!" Ron said cheerily. He held up a hand to cover his eyes, as the warm glow from the kitchen severely contrasted the dark October night. He blinked, trying to get his eyes used to the extra light.
"Hi, Ron! Kim's up in her room, if you want to go see her." Mrs. Possible said amiably.
"Of course!" Ron waltzed through the doorway and up the stairs to the second floor, where he could then gain access to Kim's loft. He froze momentarily, hearing something rustling in Kim's room. He heard her soft voice, muffled by the closed door, waft down the stairs toward him. He thought she sounded agitated. And tweaked. Most definitely tweaked.
Ron tore up the stairs to her room, pausing before the trap door to the loft. He knocked loudly on the wooden surface.
"Ki-i-i-immm!"
Ron heard a muffled gasp, then a few more clothes being shoved about by Kim.
Finally, he got a response. "I'm not decent, Ron!" she said quickly.
"Are you wearing something?"
"Excuse me?"
"Are you wearing something?"
A pause.
"Yeah." Kim voiced uncertainty in her tone.
"Then here I come." Ron burst through the door, breaking down the barrier between him and his girlfriend.
Kim was on the far side of the room; when he broke in, she gave a loud squeal and ducked behind her "changing space", as she liked to call it. She sat behind the hinged board, her knees pulled up to her chest.
"RON!"
Her actions may have voiced shyness, but her tone spewed forth fire. Her eyes lit up angrily as she snapped, "I told you; I wasn't decent!"
"You told me you had clothes on! You're decent!"
"I did and I'm not!" she shouted back to him. She waited for a response. Silence.
Curious, she poked her head around the edge of her board. Ron was nowhere to be found.
Where was he? "Ron?"
"BOO!" Kim squealed and turned to face Ron. He had somehow crept up behind her on the other side of her board.
Ron sat cross-legged in front of her, rocking back and forth, laughing. Her initial fury at being fluked melted into laughter. She smiled, then giggled. She punched his arm playfully. "Don't scare me like that!"
Ron looked at her, his brown eyes full of faux pain. He rubbed his sore arm. "Ow! You hit hard!"
"You big baby." Kim kept a straight face, but the humor in her eyes gave her away. She let out another laugh, this one long and hard.
Kim wiped away a stray tear, then said, "So Ron, how's your senior paper coming along?"
Ron's lighthearted features immediately darkened. His brow furrowed and his mouth drew into a small frown. "Eh, not so good," he said. "I haven't even come up with a topic yet."
"At least you're being honest with yourself. And it's no big; we have until Christmas to do the outline. Barkin's tough, but he gives you a fair amount of time to get it done."
"Sure, sure." Ron sounded preoccupied. He stared off into space, a look of deep thought and agitation plastered onto his face.
Suddenly, his eyes widened. "Hey!" he said indignantly. "What do you mean, 'At least you're being honest with yourself'?"
Kim rolled her eyes. "Remember the 'autobiographical assignment incident'?"
"You mean the one with the mind-controlling shampoo and me an' you going on national television to stop Drakken's evil plan?"
Kim nodded.
"Oh, yeah." Ron cast his gaze downward. Wow; that had probably been one of the most... exceptional examples of his idiocy. How... he didn't even know what. He sighed, digging his fingers into the cream-colored shag carpet.
Kim noticed his downward gaze. The way his eyes filled up with sadness whenever he felt he let her down... it was almost like a puppy. A ferociously cute puppy.
The red-headed beauty scooted closer to Ron and put her arms around his neck.
"What I mean is that we need to learn from our mistakes. And that's what you're doing! You're admitting your problem and addressing it."
Ron's gaze rose up, and the gloom lifted from his features. "Really?"
"Really." Kim gave him a reassuring kiss on the nose.
"So, me not having a topic is a good thing?"
"No. Now you're twisting my words. I said that the fact that you understood you didn't have a topic yet and that you weren't in denial yet were good things."
Ron's brow knitted, his eyes full of confusion. "I don't get it."
Kim sighed. "Oh, well. Whatever. It doesn't really matter, anyway."
She nuzzled her forehead against his neck, breathing in the scent she knew to be Ron. He gently draped his arms over her shoulders, pulling her close.
"You know, Ron, we really should get to work."
"Hmm?" Ron's mind was a million miles away. He rested his chin on her head, smelling the sweet fragrance of her strawberry shampoo.
"You know, work? As in, the stuff you're supposed to do when your bo—"
Kim was silenced when Ron's lips suddenly captured hers. She sat rigid, then realized what happened and melted into the kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. Ron's hands lay gently on her hips, giving her comfort and holding her dearly to himself.
She sighed contentedly, tracing her fingers up and down his back. He shivered, then pulled away; both took a deep breath.
Kim looked at her beau. "Thanks," she said, her green eyes full of love. "I needed that."
"I'll bet you did." Laughter danced in his cocoa-colored eyes.
"Nuh-uh!" Kim said, pulling away and pointing a finger at him. "You soo did not just say I needed that."
"Uh-huh! I soo did!" He grinned good-naturedly.
"Hmm..." Kim stroked her chin in mock thought. "I have an idea." She bolted up from her seat beside the floor and ran from behind the board.
"Aww, Kim!" Ron protested. "C'mon! Where are you going?"
"Where does it look like I'm going?" Kim's voice added a hint of sharpness.
Ron was silent. Nice move, idiot, he thought. Now he was not only a complete and total failure, but he had also insulted his BFF and his GF. And he didn't even know what he had done!
"Sorry, KP," he muttered softly. His gaze traced a pattern in the cream-colored carpet.
Kim could see his outline behind the board. She sat tentatively on her bed; as if the moment was so fragile that any quick movement would shatter it, and they would be lost forever.
"Come here," she said.
He got up and obediently stood in front of her bed, head down. Like a puppy.
"Are you mad at me? Are we fighting?"
"No to the first question, yes to the second question."
Ron visibly winced. "Brain fart," he said. "I don't get it."
"You are so silly!" Kim laughed.
Ron jerked his head up. Kim hadn't said "silly" since they were kids. What had gotten into her? Is she going crazy?
"I'm not crazy," she said.
Wow; she's hot and she reads minds.
"Well, actually, I don't really know what I was thinking. I just..." Kim trailed off. "I'm having mood swings. Sorry. I just wanted to have a good time with you tonight. Kinda dumb, huh?" She gave a nervous chuckle. "I hope you're not mad."
Ron breathed a sigh of relief. So it was just a silly girl thing. That was so much better.
"Of course I'm not mad at you," he said. "And it's not dumb of you. I think I get it now; why would I want to be mad, anyway?"
He plopped down on her bed beside her, shoving away a massive pile of clothes in the process. "You're the best girlfriend ever."
"Nuh-uh!"
"Yes-huh!"
"Nuh-uh!"
"Yes-huh!"
"Prove it!" Kim crossed her arms in childlike indignation.
"Fine!" Ron smiled widely, severely contrasting his tone. "I will!" He held her chin in his hands and planted a big kiss right on her lips.
Oh, yes, Kim thought. The best part about fighting is making up.
Ø
A long, long while later, Kim and Ron finally finished. Ron took a deep breath and looked Kim in the eye.
"Kim, I want to ask you something."
Kimberly sat cross-legged on her bed, hands on her knees, rocking back and forth on the maroon comforter.
"OK, shoot," she said.
"Well, I was thinking—" Ron grunted as he got up from his perch on the edge of her bed, "—that maybe for Halloween, we could go out trick-or-treating!"
Kim gaped. They had gone over this before; trick-or-treating was for little kids! And she was sure Monique was going to throw another awesome, all-out Halloween party at her house. She really wanted to see herself and Ron going together, showing up at Mon's party, wearing the best outfits ever! And getting a lot of attention, too. She smiled at that last part.
Then again, was trick-or-treating and a Halloween party so much different? You were still going out with your best friend, dressing in absurd costumes, just having a good time.
Kim shook her head. Oh, yeah; it was so much different. At Mon's party, all of the people would be her age. There would be holiday-themed snacks and music and dancing and friends to chill with. Trick-or-treating meant whiny little eight-year-olds begging for candy.
Kimberly returned Ron's gaze. In his eyes, she could see her reflection. How he only wanted what was best for her. And he thinks that's trick-or-treating?
No! another part of her scolded. He thinks that's spending time with your best friend/boyfriend and getting candy, too! It's just a little harmless fun; you babysit little kids all the time. Yeah. You could pretend to be a chaperon. Yeah!
Kim flashed Ron a confident smile. "OK," she said. "But you have to find good costumes!"
Ron's eyes lit up with a childlike joy. "You bet!" he said. "In fact, I already got them picked out."
He jumped off the bed and flung his backpack into his place. The heavy pack sunk down into the downy comforter. He rummaged through the pack, and Kim could hear the crumpling of paper. She peered over his shoulder, hoping to sneak a peek.
"Aha!" Ron exclaimed. Kim jumped back, startled from his outburst.
"I found them!" he said. He pulled out a short, pink leotard with a fluffy tutu. Pink tights and ballet flats completed the ensemble.
Kim gasped. "Huh-uh!" she said. "A ballerina? Are you serious?"
"Aww, Kim!" Ron pouted. "But remember preschool? The very first Possible/Stoppable Halloween trick-or-treat excursion? Cowboy and ballerina! I thought, y'know, since I was a guy, I could kinda be the cowboy, but if you don't like the ballerina..."
"Whoa!" Kim said. "I cannot see you in tights!" She grinned. "I guess it's settled; I'll be a ballerina, and you'll be a cowboy."
"Badical!" Ron pumped a fist. "I was really hopin' you'd say that, 'cuz the cowboy costume is wicked cool!"
Kim rolled her eyes. "OK, but let me try the ballet outfit on and make sure it fits."
She grabbed a fistful of pink poof and trudged behind her changing board. Ron gave her privacy and turned away, covering his eyes. He sat on the bed, twiddling his fingers and drumming his free hand on Kim's bed. Soft grunts and a few guttural "Snap!"s were heard.
"Kim, you OK?"
More grunts. "Yeah," she said finally, "I got it under control."
A few minutes (and much more struggling) later, Kim finally got into her ballerina outfit. She stood in front of Ron, modeling her new getup. The pink tights accentuated her perfectly-sculpted thighs; and the fluffy tutu bushed out at the waist, drawing the eye to her curvy hips. Her wavy hair was drawn up in a high ponytail, two solitary strands of red framing her angelic face. The pink leotard she wore was modest, but it was easy to see she had recently blossomed into a beautiful woman.
Ron's heart jumped into his throat, and the blood rushed away from his face. "Whoa," he muttered.
"You like?" Kim turned around gracefully.
Ron could only nod.
"Good," she said. "Then it's just what I wanted for Halloween. Thanks." She gave him a tender kiss.
"Hmm," Ron mumbled, "... welcome."
Ø
Several hours later, Ron trudged home from the "study session" at Kim's house. After the fake fight (and the costumes), they had had quite a night. Nothing bad, just some mushy stuff (like fluffy compliments) that would make any normal 11-year-old gag. Which was good; that insured the Tweebs' interference wasn't a factor. Thank goodness.
Ron stepped up the stairs to his house, skipping every other step. He fished the keys out of his pocket and inserted one into the hole. Didn't fit. He tried another one. The lock rolled back with a small click. Good.
He opened the door to his house, removed his shoes, and looked around. It was nearly one o'clock in the morning; that meant his parents should be in bed.
Ron saw a light coming from the kitchen. Key word there being "should".
"Quiet, Rufus," he said. Rufus poked his head from Ron's pocket.
"Mm-hmm." Rufus nodded enthusiastically. The caution wasn't necessary; he'd been on many missions before with his master. But still, hearing the voice of Ron (and to Ron, the voice of Rufus) was an assuring gesture. Ron tiptoed through the hallway and poked his head around the corner of the doorway.
"Ronald!" his mother said, a little over-excitedly. "You're home!"
"You've been gone for quite a while, Son," Mr. Stoppable said. He and his wife sat at the kitchen table, each holding a cup of lukewarm coffee.
"Uh, yeah." Ron tugged at his collar. "I was, um, over at Kim's."
"Really?" His mom looked at him.
"Well, your mother and I have something to tell you."
Uh-oh. "Yeah?"
Mr. and Mrs. Stoppable looked at each other.
"We're adopting," they said in unison.
Ron gasped, then fell backwards onto the hard kitchen floor in a dead faint.
Ø
Meanwhile, Monkey Fist, formerly known as Lord Montgomery Fiske, sat quietly on a sloped hillside. The full moon high in the sky illuminated the darkness in an eerie glow; and the long grass on the Japanese mountainside swished in the cool night breeze. He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. Yes; tonight would be the night.
His monkey minions surrounded him in a silent semi-circle. They sat Indian style, eyes closed, bodies poised and ready for the slightest command. Their small chests hardly rose and fell with their automatic intake of breath.
Monkey Fist, perched on a rock, held his hands above his head in mock meditation.
"Yes," the Englishman said, his voice deep and guttural, "tonight will be perfect."
Ø
Darkness. That's all he could see. It was everywhere, shrouding him in a gloomy covering. It wasn't depressing or melancholy; more like a security blanket, placed here by whatever gods there were to protect him from... something. That something Ron really didn't know about, nor did he want to know about. In his mind, he sighed. He guessed it was like one of those weird places in your imagination when you were half-asleep, yet half-awake.
He moaned and turned his face away when a sharp beam of light pierced through his blanket. As if that would help; the light just followed his movement. Diablo sauce. That and much worse things.
For wherever he went, the light went, too. He tried to get away from it, but it just got brighter and brighter, slowly eating away at his dark blanket. Noo! He squeezed his eyes shut. Whatever was happening, he wanted nothing to do with it. He'd rather lie here on the floor, wrapped in his blanket, than face whatever was out there. It was much worse than what was in here, he was sure.
But try as he might, the world around him kept getting more vivid with each passing moment. Ron became aware that he was lying down, and the cold tiles that should've been so hard underneath him were suddenly comforting. He wished he could slip back into non-reality, his little blanket wrapping him in its dark, gloomy protection. But nay. That wasn't what Fate had in mind.
He moaned as his security ebbed away, only to be replaced by that horrid light. What he wouldn't do to get rid of it!
He exercised his hands, clenching and unclenching them. The cold tiles were no longer comforting, just hard and rigid underneath his back. A metaphor for the cruel, cynical world he was currently becoming a part of again. How fair was that?
Slowly, his eyes fluttered, and he heard the soft voices of his parents speaking to him.
"Grrnonaaaldu." What the heck?
The voices got louder and more obnoxious.
"Grrnonaaaldu!" Why were they so loud?
"Grrnonaaaldu!" Good gravy! Can't they hold their horses?
He forced his eyes open, suddenly aware of everything. The sharp, piercing light that was the kitchen light fixture. The suddenly-loud voices of his parents. And... What happened? Whatever had caused him to fall over in a faint, he was sure he didn't want to go through it again.
And what in the world was a "grrnonaaaldu"?
"Ronald!" Ooohh.
He stared up at his parents, trying to get his bearings. He sat up quickly, and a wave of nausea overcame him. "Ooh, don't try that at home," he moaned.
The soft voice of his mother came to his ears. "We were worried about you, Ronnie. After we told you we were adopting, you just fell right over!"
Ron gasped, and he felt his father's strong hands under his arms. Rufus, who had fallen out of Ron's pocket when he had collapsed, scampered up to his owner and sat loyally on his shoulder.
"Y-you're... adopting?" he stuttered. "Adopting? As in, a new kid? As in, I'm no longer an only child?"
His mom and dad nodded.
"Wow." He fell back onto his father. "That's... wow."
Barbara Jo nodded. "Wow is right. We knew you'd be surprised, but fainting? Well... that was unexpected."
"Sorry."
"No sorry about it, Hon," she said. "We're glad you're OK."
Ron put a hand to his forehead. "Yeah, me, too." He rubbed his temples, trying to make his headache to go away, but to no avail. Did he really hit the floor that hard?
Don Stoppable was silent.
Come to think of it, he hadn't said a thing in a while. Normally, his dad was the one gushing his insides out; Ron had always assumed that's where his own trait had come from. But right now, he was quiet as a... as a...
Once again, a correct in-context simile escaped Ron. Oh well.
The point was, he wasn't talking.
"What's up, Dad?"
Mr. Stoppable hesitated. "Well... I think the term 'adopting' is a tad... incorrect."
"Oh?" Where could he be going with this?
His mom nodded. "Mm-hmm. I think—well, more like 'adopted'."
"Huh?" Ron almost fainted again.
"Your mother's right. You see, we looked on the Internet for the longest time for the perfect child; we found some wonderful adoption agencies and some lovely kids, but none seemed like the right one. So just today, while you were at school, your mom and I went to visit an agency in Denver. They had the kids right there and showed us some of them."
Ron sat cross-legged on the kitchen floor, his father behind him and his mom in front of him. His mind swirled with the possibilities of a new sibling. The good (and bad) they could bring. And there were so many questions he had to ask! Boy or girl? Twins, or just one? What did you name them? How old were they? Old enough to play football with in the backyard? To take to the mall on a Saturday with KP and Mon?
But through all of these, one question made itself more dominant in Ron's mind.
"A-are you serious?"
His father patted him on the back. "As a heart attack."
"OK, I respect that. But what happened after they showed you the kids?"
Barbara Jo gave him a soft smile. "Well, we couldn't decide. There were so many, and all of their stories were so sad. We couldn't possibly choose just one!
"But then a woman led us from the playroom where the older kids were to the nursery. It was actually your father that pointed her out to me. She was the sweetest thing you've ever seen; only about one year old. She was playing all by herself in a little corner of the nursery. Apparently, all of the other ones and twos thought she was weird."
I can attest to that.
"Well, we went right over to her. She was so adorable! She put down her toys and looked over in our direction. Then she toddled right up to your father and held up her arms like she wanted to be picked up."
Don chuckled. "Well, of course, it's been about 14 years since I've ever held a child, so I didn't really know what to do. But I put my arms around her, and she hugged my neck. It was then your mother and I knew she was the one."
Ron blew air through his nose. "Wow."
"Wow is right," Mrs. Stoppable said. "I can't believe that we finally have another child!"
Ron's gaze traveled downward. He cleared his throat. "Don't you think a new kid will be a lot of work?"
"Oh, we know. But it'll be worth it."
Don moved out from behind Ron to sit beside is wife. He rested a hand on her shoulder, and she looked at him, smiling.
Ron practically meditated on the little purple and blue flecks in the kitchen floor. It wasn't fair what his parents had done to him! They had just gone off all willy-nilly and adopted some child from who-knows-where, and now they expected him to accept her. He was as much a part of this household as his parents were. Shouldn't he have some say in this, too?
And as Ron sat on the hard floor of his kitchen, he felt more alone than he ever had. Was he the only one who saw the injustice of it all?
But then again, it would've been selfish for him to be thinking that. The look his mom gave his dad... she hadn't done something like that since he was a kid. This adoption was obviously making them happy; shouldn't he be happy, too?
But something still tugged at the back of his mind. Was it... jealousy? He had had no reason to be jealous before. He had always been an only child; he had gotten whatever he had asked for. Within reason, of course. But still—!
Jealousy?
Would he stoop so low? She was only one year old! And as cute as heck from what he had heard—
No! He would let no such thoughts pass through his mind. He was not jealous, and he most certainly was not thinking he might actually like having a sister. If anything, couldn't they have graced him with a brother? Now he would be stuck inside dressing Barbie dolls in wedding gowns instead of playing football in the backyard like any normal self-respecting teenage brother.
He harrumphed. Great. I'll be a professional doll dresser before I'm even out of high school.
Mrs. Stoppable smiled gently and got up from her seat on the floor. She exited the room quietly.
She promptly returned, a small child in her arms. The one-year-old's wispy blond hair curled around her face, perfectly framing her angelic features. Her pudgy hands clung to Barbara tightly, handfuls of pink shirt in each. Her round face buried itself in Mrs. Stoppable, the top of her forehead barely visible above Barbara's shoulder. She was the icon of a perfect child.
Don got up from the kitchen floor and placed a hand on his wife's shoulder. Ron sat on the floor, stunned. She was cuter than he gave her credit for.
But she's running you out of town, Buddy, an obnoxious voice in his head shouted. Don't let her do it! Pretty soon, your parents won't have enough room for you anymore. Sure, she looks cute, but how do you know?
Ron narrowed his eyes. What an absurd observation! But yet, in a way, it kinda made sense. Babies and children were a lot of work; why would his parents go through all that trouble? And I'm sure I'll have to help out in some way, too. Like get up at 4 in the morning to change a dirty diaper. He grimaced.
A soft voice floated from the back of his mind. You were trouble, Ronald Adrian Stoppable, it said. More than your parents were ready to deal with at times, I'm sure. It's unfair to assume your parents wouldn't go through the same thing for the joy of a child. Besides, you want them happy, don't you?
Rufus made small chattering noises from his perch on Ron's shoulder; almost like he could sense his friend's inner turmoil.
Ron sighed. Sometimes, his other half could be so unreasonable. All right; he'd try it. But he didn't have to like it.
Ron gave a small smile and stood up. He held out his arms. "Here," he said. "Lemme hold her."
Barbara shifted her weight and handed the little girl to Ron.
He stood in the kitchen, his arms awkwardly wrapped around the child—his sister. Her pudgy hands rubbed her eyes; she fluttered her eyelids at him. Ron took a sharp breath. Her eyes were a luminescent blue; a brighter and more brilliant shade than he had ever seen before. It reminded him of...
... the Lotus Blade. His eyes widened. Strange.
She blinked at him; her eyes had a soft film covering over the bright blue. She touched his face, his nose, and finally rested her hand on his ear. She smiled, and a small chortle erupted from the back of her throat. She reached towards his face with both hands, clenching and unclenching her fists. Her sausage-like fingers grabbed handfuls of his sandy blonde hair. She laughed loudly.
Ron grimaced. "Ouch!"
She mimicked his actions. "Ouch!"
Ron laughed, touching her nose with his finger. He gently traced his finger along her ivory skin.
"Molly." His mother uttered the word so softly, he almost couldn't hear it.
Ron looked up at Barbara.
"Molly," she repeated. "Her name is Molly Gabrielle."
"Molly." Ron said the word with reverence, as if it were so fragile it would shatter if shouted out too loudly.
He gently rubbed his thumb on her cheek. She grabbed his finger and held it tightly to her chest. Molly's bright sapphire eyes never focused; she looked as if she was staring off into space. Her beautiful face, button nose, and golden hair pierced his soul and melted his heart. His sister. He smiled, rubbing away a drop of moisture in his eye with the palm of his hand.
"Molly!" the voice gurgled from the back of her throat. She rubbed her hands on Ron's face, her tiny fingers groping over his features as if trying to read his expressions. She puckered her lips and arched her eyebrows like Ron had done; she looked ready to cry.
"Good girl." Ron gave her a kiss on the nose.
"Goo gurl!" Molly clapped her hands together and planted a big kiss on his nose.
"Hmm..." Ron rubbed his chin thoughtfully. This could get interesting.
Mr. Stoppable laughed. "I've seen that look a million times before, Son," he said. "Don't even think about it."
Ron made a face and blew a raspberry in his dad's direction. "I don't know where you'd get that crazy idea, Dad!" He bounced Molly on his hip, bathing in the delighted giggles she gave him. All the while, she stared at nothing in particular with her empty sapphire eyes.
Ron noticed her empty stare and looked concernedly at his mom. "I-Is Molly OK?"
Mrs. Stoppable nodded. "Of course. Why do you ask?"
"Well, when she first looked at me, she didn't seem to really see. I mean, she saw, but she looked through, not at. And—"
Barbara shushed him with a finger. "No, nothing's wrong with her."
"But I saw that film over her eyes! Why won't she focus on anything? Is she OK?"
Don and Barbara's gaze shifted to the floor. The silence that followed was so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Finally, Ron's dad stepped forward. "Son," he said, "Molly's blind."
A/N: I hope you guys like the first installment of October 31st: Take II, the first in a series of several. I originally wanted it to be one chapter, but I didn't realize it would be this long. I hope y'all like reading this story as much as I like writing it.
Please feel free to correct me on anything if I'm wrong. I realize that some adoptions can take months to process; I decided to shorten it up and make it the same day. It may not be logical, but it sounds good in the story.
Aww! A little one-year-old being blind! "How cruel, 3vad!" you say. Well, sorry, but the hard truth is that things like this happen all the time. And don't worry; Molly's story will be continued in the next update.
Don't forget: write a review, get a response! Thanks for reading, and come back again for part 2. Happy Halloween!