Dear readers,

At this late date I should explain something. When I first started this story, I meant it to be a one-shot, based on IvyMae's "10:45 Solo Mission" at DeviantArt. Kim is pregnant, wearing Ron's pullover as a nightshirt, Ron is dressed in a mission suit, kissing her bulging belly, they're both wearing wedding bands, Kim has the content facial expression, yadda yadda. I liked the picture.

But the plot bunny, my Muse, my obsession with Richard Lionheart intruded. My original fic, "Kim and the Lionheart", the story of a doer of missions who was both Ron's best friend and a contender for Kim's affections, was inspired by "Kimmie-Kiss" at Richard's Page of Fanatism and stories like "The Prisoner of Zenda" (check it out at the Project Gutenberg website; it's a melodrama, a real potboiler--something worthy of Edgar Rice Burroughs or Robert K. Howard.) I wanted a story of noble, sacrificial, unrequited love (break out the violins). My original plotline involves Richard Harte becoming the Coeur de Lion (French for Lionheart) a lofty swashbuckling figure who goes about rescuing the innocent (the Scarlett Pimpernel, Zorro, etc.) If you check out the Sirois artwork, however, you will see that Richard Lionheart, as he gets older, starts carrying some serious sidearms (like the Punisher, or Mad Max)--oops--a spoiler. Mustn't give away the surprise.

In short, dear readers, I should have tacked on a disclaimer. The first chapter does not represent a current plotline, but only a vignette, a glimpse; maybe another time. Jim Vincible, I hope I haven't lost you. Ace Ian Combat, the Lionheart will roar--very soon.

The content of this chapter is based on the pictures found at Richard's Page of Fanatism.

Kim, et. al. belong to Disney. Rich, et. al. belong to me. London, et.al. belong to the U.K. The movie quotes are from the Internet Movie Database.

For more on "The Scarlet Pimpnerel", check out Wikipedia and Project Gutenberg.

The flashbacks are in italics. The written correspondence is underlined. The movie dialog is in bold. Confused? hope not.

This is one loooong chapter--very wordy--it got away from me--& I don't know if it would work to break it up; lotsa details; if you can't follow it, let me know.

ONE YEAR AFTER THE PROM

Team Possible was on the plane bound for London. Kim and Ron lounged together, alternately napping or gazing out the window.

Rich was several seats up. He had gotten his books out. Kim could see the tousled brown hair and the untameable cowlick as he was poring over his book--as he always did. In his backpack were always the same three books: his Bible, "The Scarlet Pimpernel" by Baroness Orczy, and "A Tale Of Two Cities" by Charles Dickens--except "The Scarlet Pimpernel" now lived in her backpack.

Kim would not soon forget the day she first met Rich--not passing him in the hall of the high school, barely noticing him--not the terrible argument they had the day of the Junior-Senior Prom. They met after the Prom, after the night of the Little Diabloes.

There Rich and Daphne were in mission suits. How odd that was, how dreamlike, as if they were seeing themselves mirrored in the Harte twins, the "Bookends"--except the nickname, which Kim had inadvertently made up and Bonnie loved to use, never passed Kim's lips again. Rich was dressed just like Ron, except for his wire rim glasses.

Daphne's mission suit, of course, did not include the crop top, as Kim wore. In fact, she added a khaki jacket, still the Little Miss Prim.

But meeting Rich--his silence suddenly didn't look dorky or dweebish; it looked dignified--kingly. She swore that when he shook her hand, he was going to bend to one knee and kiss it. And the look in those deep brown eyes. The fond gaze in Ron's eyes could cause her to melt. But the look in Rich's eyes--what could she call it--adoration? That look imparted a sense of silent awe.

With Ron, it was different. They hit it off like twin brothers. They started a group called "G.A.D"; "Goofballs And Dorks". It was a weekly exercise in insanity; one day each week (it was never the same day) they would play dress-up.

In the early school year, during September, while it was still a sweltering 90 degrees outdoors, they would wear parkas and ski boots. In the dead of January, with ten foot Colorado snowdrifts, they would wear sarongs and leis.

They also dressed as ethnic minorities; Gypsies, native Americans, Mexicans with sombreros and serapes, Frenchmen with berets, English with derbies and umbrellas, Chinese with conical hats, Netherlanders with wooden shoes--it was all very politically incorrect.

Invariably, if or when Barkin saw them, he would send them home and demand that they return without the extravagant absurd costumes That was part of the game, avoiding Barkin for as long as they could. Why they never suffered detention over this absolutely mystified Kim.

Kim looked toward Ron with indulgent love. Rich was to Ron almost like a human Rufus, acting more intelligent than Ron--sometimes. They were best of buddies. In fact, on one of their Goofball And Dork days, they were dressed as naked mole rats: pink leotards and fake incisors. It made Kim cringe.

The pink leotards were a leftover from Ballerina Day, which they wore with tutus, pirouetting through the halls. Kim especially cringed that day.

And the way they greeted each other. They would high-five and Ron would say "BON-diggety!" Then they would low-five and Rich would say loudly "BO-dacious!" They would bump each other's fists and Ron would shout "BAD-ical!" Last of all, they would both thump their fists on their chests like gorillas and bellow like a couple football players, "BOOOHHH--YAAAHHH!" No matter that she knew what was coming, no matter that she would try to prepare herself. Kim would always jump with a startled yelp, "Eeep!" They would laugh uproariously and slap each other on the back.

But it was good. He had found a soul brother, a man after his own heart, someone to "never be normal" with. In fact, they called each other "Bro". An orthodox Jew and a born again Christian; a study slacker and a Renaissance scholar

Daphne could see, too. It was good for Rich. He was moving past the death of their mother, and at last past the painful breakup with Cyndi Larsen.

Rich had a profound effect on Kim, also. His considerable artistic and literary knowledge got her interested in literature, and they discussed books by the hours, something she had never done--with anyone. Shopping with Monique, missions (and romance) with Ron, boys (and things) with Mom, but books? never--until Rich.

Kim had borrowed "The Scarlet Pimpernel", and had read it. Ron was asleep. She stood and walked up to Rich. "I have some questions about the book, Prof. Can I pick your brain?"

Rich slid over. "Sure, my teacher's pet--my fav student. Take a seat next to the dusty old scholar."

"Okay, I think I've got it straight--this Englishman nobleman--"

"Sir Percy Blakeney."

"That name sounds so gay."

Rich laughed. "I almost agree."

"Let me finish! Now he's a friend of the Prince of Wales, goes to parties, has a big house, lots of expensive clothes, marries a trophy wife, and people think he's an airhead."

"Yes."

"This is so like the Food Chain."

"Exactly."

"But he has a secret identity: the Scarlet Pimpernel. He and his friends smuggle people out of France before they're arrested and sent to the guillotine. It's like they're Team Pimpernel and they're doing missions!"

Rich nodded. In moments like this she captivated him. Putting a modern spin on old books. Kim was a fresh breeze in the library of his mind.

Now this part confuses me. Percy's wife--she's French--Mar--"

"--Marguerite--"

"--doesn't know that her husband it the Scarlet Pimpernel. And she and Percy have fallen out of love because she thinks he's a brainless pretty boy. And she's crushing on the Pimpernel By the way, the book describes Marguerite's physical appearance--do all your heroines have red hair?"

Rich grinned bashfully. "It looks that way."

"And Percy's affections have grown cold because Marguerite confided to him after their wedding--her guilty secret. She's responsible for an entire family going to the guillotine. The--let me remember--Marquis St. Cyr--"

"It's not really important to remember that name."

"Okay--her brother Armand and this guy's daughter wanted to marry, and the guy refused. So there's a family feud. Marguerite rats the guy out to these radicals in Paris--and the whole family is executed. Marguerite hopes that Percy will forgive her, but he won't. He goes 'holier-than-thou' on her."

"Good so far."

"Her brother begs her to tell Percy the real reason: the St. Cyr guy hired goons to beat the crap out of Armand, because Marguerite and Armand came from a poor family. But Marguerite figures, what's the use? It's been too long; they hardly talk. Armand has a secret, too. He's a member of the Pimpernel's group; he knows Percy's identity. Everybody has secrets. This is so the soap opera."

"Yes. You could say so the Drama."

"And then the bad guy shows up. Chauvelin--the French ambassador. It's like he and Marguerite used to be an item--maybe I'm just reading stuff into the book. He's a spy; he's after the Pimpernel. He wants her to use her extensive social ties to track down who the Pimpernel is--and he's abducted her brother Armand."

As the plane ride continued over the Atlantic, their discussion continued over the moments.

"Rich, I know after watching me for those two years, you know how I do things. You know how I think and act. I know the same things about you after watching you. I feel like I know how you think. You are so into stories. And part of that is because they reflect real life."

Rich nodded. This girl had keen insight. "It's like Oscar Wilde said, 'Life imitates art more than art imitates life'."

"Well, when I started reading "The Scarlet Pimpernel, I started seeing myself and Ron. I was so crushing on the pretty boy--like you told me, the pretty face and I was ignoring what was in front of me. I couldn't see how noble Ron was, and how much he cared for me. And I gave him the absolutely false impression. I wouldn't let him see how much I cared for him. Hell--I'm sorry--heck--I wouldn't let myself see it. I was hung up on the opinion that Bonnie and the rest of the Food Chain had about me--like that even matters any more. Ron and I couldn't see past our own inner hangups--just like Percy and Marguerite. Drakken tried to trick me with Erik. It's like Chavelin trying to psych Marguerite."

Rich was quietly--but deeply--impressed. Daphne had once said that Kim might be capable of good grades, but not deep thoughts. Rich couldn't have disagreed more. Kim was showing herself to have a quick, subtle, perceptive mind.

"Congratulations, Miss Possible. You have just given your first book critique for the sheer pleasure of reading, and not as a homework assignment."

Kim blushed. "Shut up. You're making fun of me."

"No, seriously. You show real potential as a literary critic."

"Richard Harte! Only you could talk like Barkin and make it sounding flattering!"

"Mr. Artist, the Bookend, takes that as a compliment."

Kim's smile faded. "Now you're really making fun of me. I haven't called you that in months--I have been treating you better, haven't I?"

"Kim--I'm sorry--and yes, you've been a real friend to me. Don't beat yourself up." Rich's eyes narrowed. "Kim--something's bugging you."

She started to sigh--and to cry. "Ron and me--old issues--Josh--Zita--like Marguerite and Percy. Rich--what we just talked about--life imitating art, the stories being symbolic, reflecting deeper truths--do you really believe it--the happy ending, the triumph of good over evil?

"Oh, my Kismet--with all my heart."

Rich had his own nickname for Kim:an Arabic word: Kismet, destiny; and he would not tell her how it applied to her, outside of the phonetic similarity to her own name. She only knew that it was uniquely him. Ron's "K.P." was so safe, comfy, secure, like the old treehouse, like PandaRoo. Rich's "Kismet" was exotic, mysterious, like swirling silks, brass gongs, shifting sand dunes.

"Is there anything I can do?"

She smiled sadly. "What you always do--be a friend--pray for us--I should go back and sit with Ron."

Rich nodded--and he thought of an earlier conversation with Daphne.

"Ricky--don't lose your heart to Kim"

"Lose my heart? Like I could crush on Kim."

"You know what I mean! Kim has crushes. You adore! You worship! I saw it with Cyndi Larsen and I'm starting to see it with Kim!"

"Sis--you're mistaken."

"Ricky--you have a thousand year soul. For you the code of chivalry isn't a historical relic--it's how you live. I remember what Cindi Larsen told you--that you were too intense. As deep as Kim and Ron go, you go deeper still. Kim is still this fluffy little high school girl; she has no idea of the devotion you're capable of."

They would one day call it the London Undercover Mission; it was a true cloak-and-dagger operation.

Someone had called Betty Director, supervisor of Global Justice. Someone wanted to "come in from the cold" as the agents would say--and they would trust only Kim Possible.

Dr. Director called Kim; Kim agreed. Will Du did not agree--and for once Ron and Rich agreed with him.

This was outside the usual scope of Team Possible's operations. They wanted reassurances of Kim's safety.

Dr. Director explained the set-up. Kim would attend a formal ball and be given a message. The message would instruct her where to meet the person in question. She would accompany the person to a Global Justice safe-house. And that would end her involvement.

Ron and Rich would be by her side at all times. Kim would know what she had to know to complete the mission--no more and no less. She would not be told sensitive information that might make her a liability later.

Rich insisted on these conditions. His work in Team Harte had acquainted him with the hard facts of espionage. At their meeting with the Global Justice brass, he had stood to his feet, rested his hands on the table, and leaned toward them, Dr. Director, agent Du, and those with them. His soft brown eyes glinted steel and his mouth turned hard. He assured them if anything happened to Kim, he and Ron would "wreak havoc". And those who knew Team Harte knew Rich was not a man to be taken lightly.

They were at the ball in their formal attire. They looked resplendent. Kim was in her black satin ball gown slit up the leg, black pumps on her feet, bare arms, kid gloves, black velvet choker with emerald, a red rose in her hair. Ron and Rich wore black tuxedos with red bow ties, red roses in their lapels.

While Kim and Rich were waltzing, a middle-aged lady breathlessly approached and apologetically begged for Kim's autograph. Kim gladly agreed. Ron and Rich kept the lady under eagle-eyed scrutiny. When she left, Kim was holding a note.

The note instructed where and when to be: midnight at the Channel, near Hastings. And that was that.

But something happened on the walk back to the hotel. Ron and Kim had had another terrible argument; this time Ron had brought up Josh Mankey's name, and Kim's temper took over, and before they knew it, there was a shouting match. Rich tried to referee, and before he knew it, both Kim and Ron had walked away

Rich was left alone in front of the hotel, completely baffled. What about the mission? He shook his head in frustration. Will Du would tell this story for years. Team Possible would never be taken seriously again.

He knocked on the door to Kim's room; no answer. No one was in the room he and Ron shared. He pulled out his communicator; as with the Kimmunicator and Ronnunicator, it had been painstakingly handbuilt by his sister Daphne and her partner Wade Load. He beeped both Kim and Ron; no answer.

He had to think. He changed out of his tux and into his mission suit. Wade or Daphne could electronically trace Kim or Ron via their communicators. As he was about to do so, his communicator beeped. It was Kim.

"Rich? I checked the Kimmunicator log and saw you tried to call me."

Rich breathed a sigh of relief. "Three questions, Kim. First, are you okay? Second, where are you? Third, are you up for the mission? Maybe we could--I don't know--rearrange things."

"I'm okay. I'm back in my room. And you're sweet for treating me with kid gloves, but we both know how important this mission is to Team Possible's rep with G.J. Meet me at the rental car in an hour. We'll leave for the rendezvous site. That will still give us a couple hours before midnight."

"Okay. You're the boss."

In one hour, Rich was seated in the rental Audi in the hotel parking lot. There was a knock on the passenger side window. It was Kim, dressed in her mission suit.

She opened the door and got in. "Y'know, if this were a real spy mission, and I were a gun-toting bad guy, I could have so taken you out."

He laughed. "Nah. I saw your shadow." He became serious. "Ron coming?"

Kim shook her head and stared straight ahead. "Just drive."

Rich drove in silence until they were out of the city. "Kim--where is Ron?"

Kim was still very quiet. She started to stifle a sob with her hand to her mouth, but then shook her head vehemently. "We bumped into each other in the hallway between our rooms. We were each going to apologize--but we each brought stuff up, and we both started shouting--it's done. I gave it all kinds of effort. I don't want to talk about it--ever again.''

"And Ron is--"

"At your room. Probably sulking--like he used to do in the treehouse. We can work around him, Rich. Team Possible was a two person operation for years, it can be again. I trust you."

They arrived at Hastings. They drove further, to the rendezvous site. Rich parked the car and both got out.

Rich directed Kim's attention to both the land side and the sea side. "Miss Possible, if you'll look around you, you'll see a famous historical site. In the year 1066, William the Duke of Normandy sailed from France with a great navy and landed on this spot. King Harold met him and their armies fought a great battle at Hastings. Harold was killed, the French Normans conquered the native Saxons, and William became king. Many scholars date the history of modern England from that point."

"My partner, the historian, the tour guide," said Kim drily, "Even on a mission."

"Yeah, " shrugged Rich, "That's me all over."

"Wade," Kim called on her Kimmunicator, "I assume you're hacking into an orbiting spy satellite and you have us in sight?"

"In plain view, Kim."

"Anybody around us? Heat signatures, planes in flight, offshore sonar, electronic chatter, radio transmissions--the usual?"

"Just the locals. There's a pub nearby and a couple empty beach houses. Nobody's spying on you--except me. Shall I scramble the satellite's transmissions?"

"No. That would tweak Dr. Director. Thank you, Wade. You rock."

"There," she said brightly to Rich. "We're all alone. See? I can think like a spy, too."

"So you can," acknowledged Rich.

Kim became somber. "What you saw today; I'm sorry you got caught between us; it's been going on for a while, I think; I didn't want to mention it." She faced Rich squarely and looked frankly up at him.

"But you two are going to kiss and make up, just like always--aren't you?" he asked hopefully. He took her hand and squeezed it.

"I just don't know. I'm just so tired of the same old thing, over and over. I'm just tired of being hurt." Her hand moved up his arm.

"Kim--you can't mean this. I mean--you and Ron--you two have been forever.". With his right hand, he reached for her hand that was on his left arm.

"I know. That might be the problem. We've spent our entire lives together. Maybe we just need some time apart, to see if that's the real thing. It's not like we're married, and if we can't get through the rough times now, it's better we separate while we can still be friends." Each clasped the other's hands.

"Kim--just like that? Splitsville? I know you said you don't want to--"

"Rich--please? For me? I want to keep my head in the game; and I know you can so distract me." Her eyes looked up pleadingly.

Rich felt a tremor deep in his resolve. Those eyes, both sweet and sensual, both sassy and sultry, at the same time.

Kim slipped off Rich's mission suit leather gloves, kissed both his hands, and gazed fondly into his eyes.

"Kim--"

"Rich--I know this seems sudden, but I've really known you as long now as Ron and I have been dating. We started out like enemies, but now I see what a really good man you are."

And suddenly, they were in each other's arms. He found himself saying, "Kismet, just be careful."

"Silly, it's just a mission. You'll be with me."

Even as she felt his arms around her, she could also feel that the fingers of his hands were curled up. How typically Rich; he would not put his open hand on her bare waist. Still the courteous gentleman, mindful of a lady's modesty.

And then their lips met.

He remembered the hugs and kisses from his mother before her death, and he was forever being squeezed and pecked on the cheek by Mrs. Dr. P., Mom Stoppable, and even his sister. Cute little Joss Kim's cousin, who was forever crushing either on him or Ron, had once stolen a kiss; but this--he had never imagined--nothing like this in his entire life. How warm were her lips, how tight were arms around her neck, how soft was her hair running through his fingers, how smooth was her cheek against his, how delicately her eyelashes lay on her cheek. Urges he never dreamed of having were awakened within him.

She lay her head on his shoulder and whispered sweet and tender words. "You don't know how special you are, all our late night talks, all our time together. You're my knight in shining armor. You've always been there. Please, always be there."

"I will," he whispered back.

The Kimmunicator beeped and they both jumped, startled. "Approaching watercraft, you guys," said Wade.

There was a noise offshore. They separated. Rich mentally kicked himself for being distracted--over several things.

A motorboat with two people pulled up to shore; the person at the tiller wore a cap and had the collar turned up. The hands looked masculine. The passenger wore a wide-brimmed hat and a trenchcoat.

Kim and Rich tensed for action if sudden movement was called for. Nobody pulled out any weapons. The passenger only extended a hand. "Miss Possible, I presume." It was a man, who spoke with an average English accent.

Kim extended her hand. "Yes sir, at your service." He took her hand and hopped ashore. He was shorter than her, was light-complected, and had a trimmed mustache.

Kim drove the Audi back to London, with the man next to her in the front seat. No one spoke. Rich was in the back, every sense alert. The transmission channel to Wade was open, in case something happened.

Kim pulled up to the curb of a London office building. Agent Du came out from the shadows with two men. The passenger got out and walked into the building, accompanied by the men.

"Thanks, Kimmie. Thanks, Richie. We'll take it from here," Will Du said sarcastically.

Rich joined Kim in the front seat. "Be cool, Willie. Peace out." Will glared and Kim suppressed a giggle.

With that, the London Undercover Mission, the mission for which they had embarked on the transatlantic flight, was officially concluded.

The ride back to the hotel was silent again until they parked.

Kim broke the silence. "I know I unloaded a lot of stuff on you. I know you think I'm being too quick, but--" She stuck a folded note in his hand and winked. "Read that later," she said. "If you want to, come see me." And she left the car.

Thoughts roared through his head: here it is; what you've dreamed of; your Dulcinea, the Queen of your heart--you treasonous bastard; this is your brother's girlfriend--no, his soulmate--may you roast in Hell.

Rich slowly unfolded the note.

I think I know how you feel about me, and I think I feel the same about you. I think I knew it all along. If you're ready, I want my life to move in a new direction--with you.

He stayed in the car for an hour.

When he finally went back to his room, Ron was drunk, sobbing, and nearly passed out.

Rich left for a moment and returned. Rudely he lifted Ron to his feet.

Ron's tongue lolled out. There was a line of drool down his face and shirt. "Bro, what am I gonna do?" Rich offered him a cup of something and he chugged it.

"What is it?"

"Tomato juice, raw egg, cod liver oil, --and saliva."

Ron staggered to the toilet and started vomiting

He was aware of the sliding sound of a shower curtain; he gasped in shock as a jet stream ice cold water pelted his head and shoulders. He tried to stumble out; Rich's hand gently but determinedly pushed him back in. He blubbered sloppily. "Rich--I've lost her--help me!"

"I am--Bro," said Rich grimly.

Kim was awake in bed in her hotel room. There was a soft knock. She had told Rich that she would be sleeping light tonight. She was expecting this. She jumped from the bed and ran to the door. She heard a swish, and found a note slipped under the door. She opened the door, and found an empty hall. All right, she smiled to herself, I'll play the game.

She unfolded the note; "Meet me in the courtyard; wear your ball gown."

The heels of Kim's dress shoes clicked on the floor and the fabric of her gown rustled as she walked through the lobby. "Miss Possible, I have a letter for you," the night desk clerk called out.

Kim came to the counter and took the envelope; on it was written "For The One I Am Meeting." She shook her head indulgently and stifled a giggle. How elaborate was this going to be? What a clown Rich could be, but at the same time such a romantic. She sighed.

"I was instructed not to divulge the person's identity, but only to convey this message: he assures you that he will make this a most memorable evening," the desk clerk said.

"Thank you; I'm sure it will be." She flashed him a brilliant smile, and he felt a tingle down to his toes Lucky bloke, he thought; wish I could bring a girl like that home to Mum and Dad.

Kim approached the tuxedo-clad figure; he was facing away from her. Wait, something was wrong; the way he stood, the outline of his figure--the blonde hair. "Ron," she said bitterly.

Ron slowly turned around. A seriousness was on his features; his face was composed, somber; he too was holding an envelope.

Kim frowned with disgust. "Is this you guys' idea of a sick joke?"

"K.P.--" Ron said hesitantly.

Kim's frown deepened.

"--Uh, Kim--Rich told me to bring this." Ron's envelope also said: "For The One I Am Meeting". Kim grasped her envelope with both hands and started to tear it in half. Desperation showed in his eyes as he held his envelope up. "Shouldn't we at least see what this is about?"

Rudely she thrust the envelope she was carrying into his waiting hand and snatched the one meant for her. She opened it with deadly slowness. She read, her lips moving silently.

My dearest Kim--

My Kismet,

I must be harsh. Oscar Wilde has said, "Yet each man kills the thing he loves...some do it with a bitter look, some with a flattering word...the coward does it with a kiss, the brave man does it with a sword." I will do it with a pen.

I will always revere you as the queen of my heart, but I cannot love you the way you want or need. I am both unable and unwilling. Life, experience, and God's voice within me have shown me that I am called to a higher destiny than just one person--even if that person is the most extraordinary woman I have ever know. You and I are both aware of this.

Forgive me for my moment of weakness in leading you on. Our embrace, our kiss, your words of love--they are infinitely precious to me, for they occurred once and will never happen again. I will treasure them forever.

Kim's hand shook. Her lip quivered. She felt a vise clamp on her heart, and the acid sting of tears.

There is another.

Could it be that it's him?

You've been friends forever but then you thought you were feeling something totally new.

He was right there beside you and you never knew.

Everytime you need him, he's been there for you.

Today is the start of the rest of your lives.

I can see it in your eyes.

It's real and it's true. It's just him and you.

Kim and Ron; I'm going to preach at you both.

"Do not cast away your confidence, which has a great reward." Hebrews 10:35

"Be angry, but don't sin do not let the sun go down on your wrath." Ephesians 4:25

"I have something against you. You have left your first love. Remember from where you fell. Do your first works over again." Revelation 1:4-5

Return to your first love--BOTH OF YOU!

Kim looked up and blinked away the tears. Ron was reading his letter, tears streaming from his eyes.

"It's full of Bible quotes--and Shakespeare quotes--and the words of our song--from the Prom."

"Yeah--that's our Rich"

They compared their letters

"...he mentions the time we switched bodies..."

"...the time I had the Moodulator..."

"the time Monkey Fist was at the high school..."

"...and you thought I had turned into a monkey..."

"...I got Chippy into a dress--and told you--er--her--him--I dunno--that being a monkey didn't matter--we were still friends--my God, it's like he was there"

"He was. He transferred to Middleton for the art major curriculum--and because he had seen my website"

"Yeah--I remember--he wanted to see how we did it--doing missions together. He wanted to be like us."

There was a moment of strained silence between them. Both shuffled their feet.

"Ron--why did you bring up Josh?"

"I don't know--why did you bring up Tara--and Zita?"

"I don't know."

"Oh, by the way, you'll love this." He showed her the letter that was for him--the letter she had been carrying.

Kim almost choked with laughter as she read.

Remember the line from "Gone With The Wind' that Ashley says to Scarlett?

There's something you love more than me--Tara.

Well, forget that. There's someone you love more than Tara, Yori, Rufus, Bueno Nacho, and wrestling put together: it's Kim; it's always been her, and it will always be.

"That goof--that absolute goof--him and his old movies."

"What's your letter say?"

"It's that scene from Casablanca."

Rick: Last night we said a great many things...and it all adds up to one thing: you're getting on that plane with Victor where you belong.

Ilsa: But, Richard, no...you're only saying this to make me go.

Rick: I'm saying it because it's true. Inside of us, we both know you belong with Victor. You're part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that plane leaves the ground and you're not with him, you'll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and for the rest of your life.

Ilsa: But what about us?

Rick: We'll always have Paris...We got it back last night.

Ilsa: When I said I would never leave you--

Rick: And you never will. But I've got a job to do, too. Where I'm going, you can't follow...Someday you'll understand that...Here's looking at you, kid.

Kim--last night we said some things, but inside we both know--Ilsa belonged with Victor and you belong with Ron--you're the thing that keeps him going, and he's the thing that keeps you going--if the plane for Middleton leaves and you're not with him, you'll soon regret it, for the rest of your life--I won't do that to you--we'll always have London--and you will never leave me--but I have a job to do, someday--so here's looking at you, kid.

"He took us to see that movie on the six-month anniversary of our first date."

"Yeah--we bawled our heads off."

Kim stamped her foot. "Damn him! He is so manipulative! He knows just what to say to make me cry! He's worse that you!"

Rich watched Kim and Ron from his high vantage point. "Come on, you two!" he whispered desperately.

Ron fell to his knees and dejectedly hung his head. Kim covered her face and shook her head, then lifted her face up. Rich could see the glisten of tears. She nodded. Each wound their arms around each other.

Rich exhaled in profound gratitude--and at the same time felt a sword thrust of anguish. He fired his cable and hook gun, and left his perch.

In his hotel room, Rich wearily sat down and drew out his communicator and beeped Wade. "Rich here, Wade."

"Wade has a few hours off, Ricky. I'm covering the board."

"Sis?" he sighed. "Daph, could you book a ride home for me?"

"Aren't you riding with Kim and Ron tomorrow?"

"No--I want to give them some private time--I need a flight before or after--it doesn't matter."

"Ricky? Something's wrong--I can tell by your voice."

"It's nothing, Sis."

"It's Kim, isn't it?"

Rich only groaned and struggled for composure.

Daphne was alarmed. It was her worst nightmare. Kim's sometimes volatile temper, her and Ron's sometimes volatile relationship, her childish preoccupation with "boys, boys, boys", Rich's childish preoccupation with chivalry, his insistence on regarding her as a queenly, romanticized figure--it was Cyndi Larsen all over again, many times worse. Kim's blossoming friendship with her brother had taken a sudden romantic turn. Rich's chivalrous nature had responded--and now his heart was shattered. Under her brother's brave valiant exterior, was a gentle poetic soul. "Ricky--stay there in your hotel room--I'll be there in a few hours."

Daphne was at her terminal at home. She had to beep Wade--there was no other choice. "Wade--are you there?"

"Daphne? I was just in my holographic beach room. Is everything okay?"

"No. Wade, I have to use the Kimjet. I'm going to London to pick up Ricky. It's not a medical or tactical emergency--it's more--romantic. I'm sorry. I know you were looking forward a break."

The Kimjet was Wade and Daphne's most ambitious brainchild: a sleek supersonic aircraft that could circle the globe on just one or two refills. It would run on conventional jet fuel, or a potent variant of ethanol that Daphne had concocted. It had cloaking ability. Betty Director had approved for its building using Global Justice funds, convinced of its technological potential, and had fast-tracked the issuance of a pilot's license to Daphne, convinced of the young woman's prodigious ability--but that is another story.

"Say no more, Daph. I've got you covered. I'll call Tri-City International and Heathrow Airports to get you flight and landing clearance and a flight plan." Wade knew of only one kind of romantic emergency that would compel Daphne to fly the Kimjet transatlantic. Daphne had confided many things to him; he knew that Daphne idealized her brother as much as he idealized Kim.

Wade and Daphne had a unique relationship: the agoraphobic computing and inventing genius, and the (some would say) religiously repressed computing and inventing genius. It was a deep friendship, given the age difference; it might be the deepest friendship he would know, given the nature of his life and his agoraphobia. It grieved him that two of his closest friends should have such potential animosity--but that too is another story.

Rich took up his Bible. It fell open to Genesis, chapter 2, where there was Kim's senior picture. She had signed it: "Dear Rich, all my love, Kim, your Kismet."

His eyes fell upon the words.

The LORD God said, "It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a companion suitable for him."...The LORD God caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam, and he slept. He took one of his ribs, and closed up the flesh; and the rib, which the LORD God had taken from man, He made a woman, and brought her to the man. Adam said, "This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh: she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man." Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother, and cling to his wife, and they shall be one flesh.

He turned to Matthew, chapter 11.

Come to me, all you who labor and are heavily burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am humble and lowly in heart, and you shall find rest for your souls. My yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

Rich stuck the note from Kim and the picture in the Bible and closed the cover. He lay his Bible and glasses on the bedside table. He switched off the electric lamp and only the light of the moon through the window lit the room. He huddled in a corner with his knees to his chin and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. "Oh, Lord, take away this burden--give me rest--" But his voice trailed off.

"Kim...Kim...," he whispered to himself. He bowed his head. His chest and shoulders heaved with quiet sobs in the silence of the room.