Linebreaks denote a time jump, everything is written in the third person but from Ron's perspective.

Unbeta'd, so let me know if anything is wonky. Otherwise, read on and enjoy!

"Oh yeah, the Ronster Strikes again."

It's Friday night – well, closer to Saturday morning actually. Once again, Ron finds himself bowling with his bizarre gaggle of friends. As he returns to his seat, he's sure to ignore the withering glare that Shego is projecting in his direction. No doubt a consequence of his pun and her hatred of losing. Drew and Kim are slightly more tactful and Ron drops into his seat to the soundtrack of their half-hearted applause. Like last week, the score isn't even close. It's sort of putting a dampener on things, to be honest. A Drew leaves his seat to take – or mangle, rather – his next bowl, Ron chuckles. Kim and Shego are competent enough bowlers, while the formerly mad, currently irritated Doctor is fairly terrible. Two weeks ago when Ron had won, it had been a fluke. Last week he'd been dubbed an idiot savant. Idly, Ron wonders what Drew will come up with tonight. He wonders if they'll even bowl again next week. Maybe Drew will badger them all into going somewhere else.

A few moments later, Drew stomps back to his seat and Kim leaves hers. It's the perfect camouflage for Ron to launch a surreptitious glance in Shego's direction. The woman is hunched in her seat beside Drew, one leg slung over the other. She's fiercely filing her nails, eyes pointedly focused away from her companions. Ron wonders if she's trying to drown out the reality of losing at something to him. Based on his bumbling efforts during their missions, Ron supposes the whole thing is fairly embarrassing for her. Throwing a cursory glance toward the scoreboard, Ron notes that at least Shego isn't coming dead last. Her mood is somewhat foul now, trailing Kim and himself, but Ron shudders at the prospect of her losing to Drew as well.

"This is so stupid." Shego mutters out of the blue. She lifts her arm and lobs a strike at the back of Drew's head. "I can't believe you dragged me out here, just to be slaughtered by Stoppable again."

Before he tames it, Drew's expression twitches between his usually impassive look and a glare. Slowly, he turns to Shego. "I didn't think we'd both be losing." Drew's tone is riddled with irritation as he rubs the sore point on the back of his head.

"Well, we are." Shego bites back. The fire in her eyes is accusing. A lock of black hair falls across her face, but she doesn't break from glaring at Drew to swipe it away.

The heavy silence stretches on after that. Ron watches it helplessly as Kim takes an inordinate amount of time to set up her throw. Sighing, Ron leans back into his seat and stares at the roof. All night and most of last, Shego's expression has been grim. Her eyebrows set tightly against her eyes. It's a look that Ron's seen before, but hasn't been quite able to place. Every muscle in her face is telling him something, but he can't read the language. It isn't an entirely foreign experience – being able to read Shego is something he's only beginning to learn. Over the past few weeks he finds that he's been able to read bits and pieces of Shego's expression – enough to get a basic feel for her mood. Right now though, he's got nothing. It's everything and nothing all at once. A bit like being asked to read Shakespeare before you've fully gotten the hang of Clifford The Big Red Dog.

Da-Ding.

The electronic blip denoting a strike crackles through the speakers and brings Ron out of his thoughts. He turns his head toward the lanes. Kim is striding back towards him; triumph carved in her every movement. From the corner of his eye, Ron catches Shego's expression. The frown on her face deepens almost unperceivably, but it's enough to carve out her own message. On the scoreboard above them, the gap between Kim's score and Shego's widens. Inside of Ron's head, a myriad of puzzle pieces fall into place. The look on Shego's face – bitter disappointment – he's seen it before, all masked up in irritation and twisted by anger. Immediately, Ron feels stupid for not having recognised it sooner. It's the same expression she'd worn after every defeat at the hands of Kim and himself. Though the scoreboard she's trailing on is inconsequential at best, Ron has no doubt that it's stirring up all manner of negative memories within Shego.

Brow furrowed, Ron turns his eyes over to Drew. The man's azure visage jostles another piece into place. Altruistic as the man has been acting lately, Ron knows things haven't always been that way. Ron knows this because a great deal of his adolescence was spent cutting Drew's schemes off at the heels. All of his and Kim's – mostly Kim's – glory had to come at somebody else's expense. Swallowing thickly, Ron remembers just who Drew and Shego are. They're the people on the other side of the coin. They're the people that survived on bitter defeat while Kim and himself fattened themselves on victory. After so many years spent starving, Ron imagines that it wasn't hard to coax Shego into bowling against Kim Possible. Even now, while respect from his peers has sated Drew, Ron imagines Shego is still ravenous for a victory of any kind against Kim Possible.

Another moment passes as Ron considers his next course of action. The prickle in the back of his throat warns Ron that Kim will react violently to what he's about to do. The twinge in his heart implores Ron to do his newest friend a kindness. Slowly, hesitantly, Ron shuffles in his seat and angles himself to face Drew. "Hey Doc,"

"Uh, yes?" Drew answers, amicable and utterly aware of the storm bearing down on him. The older man even looks the slightest bit pleased at having a nickname bestowed upon him. Ron feels his stomach roil with guilt. He feels like the helping hand coaxing a lamb to the slaughter.

"Would you say that in the past … you know, before your reformation … that Shego was your sidekick?" The words slither from Ron's lips, treacherous and beseeching Drew toward his doom. Kim's elbow digs into Ron's side, his ribs scream in protest. Shego's eyes sweep over the three of them, irritation bleeding into anger and then outrage. Ron winces, but forces himself to hold Drew's gaze.

"Naturally I would, but I don't see what possible -"

Drew's response cuts out violently and prematurely as Shego's knuckles collide with the back of his skull. Ron watches the scene play out exactly as he'd been expecting. His stomach churns unhappily; he feels nauseous at having engineered this scene. There's no going back now, though. In only a few seconds, Kim will fly out of her seat and -

"Ron, what the hell were you -" Kim makes it approximately one third into her lecture before her words are quickly steamrolled by a much louder, much angrier voice.

"Stoppable, are you just the biggest idiot in the world or something?" Shego absolutely just roars. Her eyes are blazing green, captivating and utterly terrifying. Though Ron has been counting down to this moment since etching out his plan, a bolt of fear shoots up his spine. For the briefest moment, his russet eyes flit to the exit behind Shego. There's chance he could slip past Shego and run toward its embrace. He'd be a coward if he did that, though. Clasping his clammy palms together, Ron forces himself to remain seated; forces himself to speak. The feeling of dread clawing at the back of his mind is palpable.

"Shego, so not -" Clearing his throat, Ron cuts himself off. A phrase associated with Kim might not be the best way to neutralise Shego's wrath. "Anyway, I was wondering if you'd be up for teaming up with me. You know, sidekick pride and all that. You can be team captain, I'll buy the snacks."

The murderous expression on Shego's face twists, ruptures. It flickers and then it's gone; dissipating into nothingness. An eyebrow perks, but it's the only discernable sign that she's heard anything. Abruptly, Shego drops back into her seat. She holds Ron's eyes for a moment more after that, but then her eyes drop to the silver bangle hanging from her wrist. She bats at the item of jewellery in an absent manner. Whether it's a forgotten relic of friendship past or a nervous habit, Ron isn't sure.

"Okay, yeah. I guess we're doing this then." Shego eventually murmurs, eyes returning to Ron. As she speaks, Shego's eyes don't roam the room as usual.

It's physically impossible, but Ron swears his flesh is searing under Shego's gaze. A long moment passes, but then a dull slap comes from Ron's left. Ron whips his head toward Kim. She's towering over him now – the sound must have been her palms slapping against the armrests of her chair. The idle thought perishes as Ron's eyes find Kim's face. Her brow is broken over the bridge of her nose; her lips have withered into a thin, unhappy line.

"So what, you guys are going to be, team sidekick or team loser?" Kim demands, uncharacteristic malice dripping from her lips. The temperature in the room plummets. Ron no longer fears his flesh burning.

Wounded, Ron just stares lifelessly at Kim. His best friend - the person he'd at one time expected to spend the rest of his life with. She's always known the ways to cut him the deepest, but this is the first time she's ever wielded the blade. Ron's heat - a swollen lump – settles at the bottom of his cavernous chest. He'd expected some form a backlash to his plan to team with Shego, but nothing like this. Whatever satisfaction Ron had felt before bleeds from his open wounds. He feels hollow and the next few minutes blur into nothingness.

Shego forces herself between Ron and Kim. Though she says something, the specifics get lost between her mouth and Ron's ears. He's too far gone – lost in a place where Kim has confirmed all of his greatest feelings of inadequacy. He wishes he'd never had the stupid idea to try and help Shego. Things would have been fine. She would have gotten through the night and so would he. All he's done is succeed in cutting himself to ribbons and provoking another fight between Kim and Shego. Between these thoughts, a blur of movement registers in front of Ron. He looks up with just enough time to see the righteous fury on Kim's face dull. He watches her hands go limp at her sides. Shego shakes her head and catches Kim's arm, dragging her away.

Ron remains behind, because really, what else is he good for these days?

"You okay Stoppable?"

The voice, although tinged with hesitance, slips into Ron's ears with ease. Dazedly, Ron looks up and to his left. Shego has dropped into the seat beside him at some point. She's angled herself to face him and her knees occasionally knock against his. The expression on her face is vaguely defined concern and Ron looks back down at the hands curled in his lap. In the past, on the rare times he's needed it, Kim was always the one to console him. That Shego is currently making an attempt at filling that role only serves to remind him of his misery. His chest tights, as if trapped in a vice. It's the same wrenching sensation he'd felt in the wake of his break up with Kim. Briefly, Ron considers whether it's ironic, poetic or just pathetic. In the end, he supposes it doesn't really matter. The past has already been written. He won't change the words by wading through the swirling memories and heady emotions attached to them. Flicking his eyes in Shego's direction, he notes the shadow of impatience beginning to darken her expression. During high school Ron trained himself to smile through these sorts of situation - the times when he'd been truly, truly miserable. With a false grin, he'd weave through Kim's questions and shrug off her concerns. From the scepticism already working its way onto Shego's expression; Ron doubts that tact will be successful with her. Just from piecing together fragments of her past, he feels certain of Shego's mastery in the art of misery.

Struggling, Ron produces something like laughter. He shakes his head and then speaks. "Not entirely, but you know … I hear time is great thing. Heals all wounds, I hear."

Shego clicks her tongue, visibly unimpressed. "Drew corralled The Princess. They're getting some snacks … reparations on her part. I may have badgered her into it. My treat. Whatever, I'm hungry too" She tries to sound as disinterested as ever. Ron finds that the effect is dulled by what she's saying and the weakness of her sneer.

Ron's eyes widen and breath indrawn, he nods dumbly. It had been one thing for Shego to drag Kim off – anything for a fight, he'd been able to say. That Shego has dragged Kim off and shrieked at the girl for his benefit? Ron doesn't know how to feel about that. It's not – he isn't upset by it. Not really. It's just another wrinkle to the woman that's rapidly taking up more of his headspace. Watching her from the corner of his eye, Ron wonders if her nonchalance is as effortless as he's always assumed. He leans back into his seat and a number of memories from the past few weeks flood the front of his mind. He's reminded of every hesitation and abandoned insult; every chink in the armour of what Shego once was. These realisations begin to pile up around him; Ron bites down harder on his inner lip. The dusty file inside of his head, long ago marked utterly terrifying, begins to feel less and less accurate.

Two people brushing past him breaks Ron from his reverie, startling him into consciousness. One of those people, the one sort of lingering in front of him, is obviously Kim. There's no point in ignoring her. Whatever she's going to say will just fest on her lips anyway. Ron straightens in his seat, russet eyes finding Kim's. A moment passes. The longer they stare at one another, the less Ron feels certain of his righteous anger. He wonders if he's just let his emotions get out of hands. Maybe Kim hadn't said anything at all and he's made himself a martyr for no good reason. Maybe … Ron is midway through tearing himself down when a tentative smile settles onto Kim's lips. That it doesn't quite reach her eyes is grim vindication. It's also scary to know an admission of guilt is about to pass Kim's lips.

Shifting her weight from foot to foot, Kim looks as uncomfortable as he feels. When she does speak, her words are clumsy. They shuffle through her lips, gangly and knocking into one another. "R-Ron. About before, there was … No, I – Ron, I'm sorry."

Swallowing the slab of apprehension that's settled in his throat, Ron forces himself to move. He peers sidelong at Shego. She's still occupying the seat to his left. Her black lips are creased into a lackadaisical smirk and she's watching him with detached amusement. Everything with Kim is so messy and screwed up – kind of his a hurricane has torn through their friendship – and all of a sudden Shego is just sitting there laughing it up? Ron turns his eyes back to Kim and he can't decide if he's happy or sad, whether he should feel relieved or anxious. Things seem to be setting themselves right – Kim isn't snarling insults at him and Shego could car less – yet Ron finds himself more lost than ever.

"It's fine." He eventually coughs up, even though it's anything but. The words feel leaden and wrong, but Ron knows they'll be true eventually. From in front of him, Kim lets out a long breath, but it mostly escapes Ron's attention. From the corner of his eye, there's a flicker of movement, a much softer exhale. Though she's done her best to smother the action, Ron is acutely aware of Shego relaxing. Her shoulders have loosened and Ron takes it as a sign that she really does care. It shouldn't matter, but it does. It shouldn't affect what Kim has said, but it does. All of a sudden, Ron feels more like himself – more like a person with friends. He feels the weight on his shoulders lessen and he sits upright.

"So, shall we bowl?" Drew pipes up, misinterpreting Ron's silence for tension. As the older man's eyes skitter around the room and he rambles on, Ron's mouth curves into a smile.

"Bowling … I could use a drink." It's the kind of thing Ron would expect to hear from Shego. "I'm taking the first shot." She adds, eyes shifting to Kim.

There's an invitation to war in Shego's words, but Kim remains still. One side of Shego's mouth lifts into a smirk, as she looks her rival over. Kim's hands have wound tight around the plastic tray she's clutching and her knuckles have bleached white. Sweeping a hand through his hair, Ron wonders what exactly had transpired between Kim and Shego while they'd been gone. As Shego gracefully makes her way out of her seat, Ron finds himself doubting the conversation had been limited to buying snacks.

From the aisle, Kim projects another smile in Ron's direction, but it's still weighted down with guilt. Ron feels his throat prickle with emotion. He's about to speak up when Kim drops into the seat opposite him.

"I got nachos." Kim says, proffering the tray of food between them. The back of Ron's throat prickles with emotion. He tries to ignore it. He wills himself to listen to the whisper of amusement he's feeling. The tray Kim is holding – he thinks she's brought at least one of everything on the menu. She's overcompensating and that means more than the food itself.

"I don't know if they're – well, I don't think they will be as good. Um. Bueno Nacho. I'll – we can go there sometime, eventually. My treat." Kim begins to babble, bringing Ron out of his mind.

There's something pleasant about how hard Kim is trying. Maybe it's that he isn't the one bumbling around for an apology, maybe it's that she really, truly cares. A shard of laughter splits Ron's lips and he doesn't think he's seen Kim look more relieved. He shakes his head, but surely his smile is a little truer when he looks at Kim again.

"Sure, KP." Ron belatedly answers, holding Kim's gaze. "We'll go next week before classes start or something." He adds reassuringly, yanking his shoulders into a shrug. Though Ron's certain everything will be fine, the words don't quite feel right as they scatter from his tongue. Deciding to ignore the nagging feeling, Ron plucks the box of fairly doubtful looking nachos from Kim's hand.

Everything will be fine. Everything will be fine because it's just got to be.

Ultimately, after everything that has transpired, the game itself – Shego versus Kim Possible – is not really fit the final act of a storied rivalry. Unlike the past, there are no grand explosions. No monolithic structures are brought to their knees. The world isn't even in the balance, just the collective pride of two women.

That's not to say the game is just a game. Ron knows this because Drew likens it to a war of attrition and Ron is hard pressed to disagree. Though the man is a genius in the laboratory, he's remedial is almost every other facet of life. If he's picking up on the ongoing hostilities between Kim and Shego, then the tension must be palpable. Repositioning himself in his seat, Ron ignores Drew's latest monologue and peers up at the scoreboard. They're only a handful of sets from the end. Shego and himself are ahead, but perilously so. A late surge by Kim could completely unravel his plan. All of the pain he's visited upon himself and the other, all for nothing.

"You know Kimmie, your arm is looking awfully muscular. I'm not sure that college boys are really into the whole She-Hulk thing." Shego's sneer carries very well on the stale air of the alley. Ron's eyes dart away from the scoreboard and over to his teammate. He winces like Shego's jibe were a body blow. The woman is only a step or two away from Kim, easily within the range of a looping punch.

"Yeah, and I'm sure the boys are falling all over themselves for a shot at Kermit." Kim hisses back, whipping her head in Shego's direction. Ron cringes at the way Kim has invoked the green Muppet's name. He knows for a fact that Shego hates the comparison.

Of course, Kim and Shego have been trading barbs since this new game – the one with them on opposing teams – has been going. The longer the game continues, the more Ron thinks Drew might be right about it being a war. Though both Kim and Shego have remained on the frontlines – or lanes in this case – Ron is under no illusions as to whom is commanding whom. Rarely returning to their seats, both women have spent the game alternately barking orders at Ron and Drew or sneering at one another. Ron can't help but picture them draped in the uniforms of opposing four-star generals. In war times like these, Ron can't help but think himself an idiot. He'd been hoping to play a part in Shego taking her redemption – inglorious as it might be, compared to Kim's original triumphs. All he's succeeded at is tempting fate and severing a very tentative peace treaty between Shego and Kim.

"Stoppable, you're up." Shego yells across the room.

Coming out of his thoughts, Ron lurches upright. It won't do him any good to drag his feels. He takes his ball from the receptacle and trudges forward. He glances at Kim first. She breaks from her glaring match with Shego for just long enough to meet Ron's gaze with a smile. He forces one in return and then glances sidelong at Shego. Her hands are planted on her hips and she looks even more severe than usual. There's desperation in her eyes. Inconsequential as a bowling match might seem, Shego needs this. She needs it. Ron finds it difficult to swallow as he flicks his eyes forward. The pins at the end of the lane have never looked further away.

He'll do his best though. Shego and himself will win. They'll win.

They have to.

Hey guys!

Sorry this has taken a while. I had originally been planning on updating at least once a week, but things got a little crazy at work. On the bright side, I'll have another chapter up in the next few days. It was originally content for this chapter, then the chapter would be something like 10,000 words, which might be a bit long for some of you.

Also, hopefully this came off how I wanted it to. From my point of view, Kim was fine with the idea Ron and Shego interacting. What set her off is actually seeing them on good terms and then having Ron 'choose' Shego.

Anyway, with that longwinded A/N out of the way, please let me know what you thought – I read and appreciate every review/follow/favourite (Even if you're commenting on a mistake you've seen lol)

=)