The Distraction: Chapter 8

I.

A single tear splashed on the glass covering the photo.

"All right, Sicarri, you want to tell me why you brought him here, of all places?"

She turned to glare at the one eyed man berating her. "Moshe, this man saved my life, I wasn't about to let him get tossed in a meat wagon."

"All right, no need to get upset," the general backpedaled, "but bringing him to a safe house and calling our doctor, why couldn't you just follow him to the hospital?"

Her voice was hard, her eyes harder, "You know the price the Arabs have put on my head. He just stopped a mass murder and saved one of their enemies. You think they wouldn't find him in a hospital? I am not going to allow him to be helplessly butchered."

The general stroked his chin, staring at his best operative, "All right, but he finds out nothing. I'm going to have a check run on him to find out who he is. His papers say he's just an American tourist, but something doesn't feel right."

"Fine, do whatever you want." She turned back to the man in the bed. "I'll be here."

The general turned to leave then looked back, "Sicarri, the one who got away, he was your last, wasn't he?"

"Yes, but I would have been hit by the explosion before I could get to him." Her head shook, "I think I've been at this too long, I was too focused. I didn't even see the two bombers, all I saw was him."

"We'll talk about it later, when you've calmed down. Goodnight, Sicarri."

"Good night, sir." She never raised her eyes from the blond man.

"Why, why did you do it?" She whispered.

She raced after the slender Arab, knowing she could catch him. Just a little faster, a little... a hard shoulder slammed into her, followed by the sound of an explosion. The shoulder carried her roughly to the street, then laid on top of her, covering her face and chest. Whoever her attacker was, he was pulling her head into his chest, trying to cover her completely. She could feel him flinch as debris rained down, indeed, she could feel some of the heavier hits. As the noise subsided he eased himself up. She immediately spread her legs to knock him back. His pelvis slipped between her thighs, bumping hers tightly. She growled, preparatory to attacking, when he raised his head.

Chocolate brown eyes stared into hers, laughing silently. "I hope our children all look like you," the maniac whispered. "and all girls, they're going to be beautiful."

Before she could verbally or physically tear this idiot to shreds, his eyes rolled up, his arm collapsed, and he fell on top of her.

II.

"Honey, what are you doing." The gentle voice asked from the doorway.

Furiously wiping her eyes, Barbara quickly put the picture back on the night stand. "Nothing," she said, in her best attempt at denial. "Just sitting here thinking."

Dean wasn't fooled. He had seen her slightly trembling shoulders from the doorway, seen the hands wiping her cheeks. He walked to the bed, and sat beside her, pulling his wife into a tight embrace, back to chest. "Will it help to tell me?"

Barbara sighed, "No, I was just thinking of how many times my men have bled. Wondering if we did the right thing."

"Honey, we decided..." He began softly.

Barbara erupted in sudden fury, jerking to her feet and turning to glare at him. "That's right, we decided, but our son never had the chance. We pushed him into this, made him into this, and for what?"

"So he'll have a better world, Barbara, you know ..."

"A better world?" She interrupted, "What if next time is the last time? What about this 'better world' then?" She suddenly deflated, falling into Dean's arms, "I'm so scared, so scared..." Her tears finally flowed.

Dean held his love awkwardly and helplessly, patting her back with soothing murmurs.

III.

Ron took as deep a breath as his ribs would allow, then pushed open the door. "Goooood Morning Possible people, and how is everyone on this bon-diggety day?" He glance around the kitchen turning to Mrs. Possible with a wounded face.

"Don't worry, Ron, the pancakes will be ready in a minute." Anne laughed at him. "Have some juice while you wait."

Dr. Possible lowered his paper, "Ronald, are you certain you're all right this morning? Kim said you were hurt on that mission."

"No worries, Mr. Dr. P., just the usual bumps and bruises."

The scientist raised his paper, "Then maybe he'll leave some for the rest of us." He mumbled.

"James!"

"Daddy!"

A guilt stricken face peeked over the printing, "Ronald, I hope you understand I was kidding."

"Sure thing, Mr.P." Ron grinned back, "I understand."

James could tell from his wife and daughter's glares that they most emphatically did not understand. He sighed, knowing he would have to be extra nice to Ronald this morning, and probably this evening when the boy came home.

"So, KP, looking sharp." Ron smiled appreciatively at Kim's pink top and white skirt. "What's the occasion?"

Kim slid next to him, "Just wanted to look good for my BF." She leaned over and gave Ron a quick peck on the cheek. "Are you sure you're all right this morning."

"Couldn't be better, KP." Ron proved it by attacking the stack of pancakes Mrs. Possible slid in front of him. A smaller plate was slid in front of an equally rapacious Rufus.

"I think Rufus can have his own plate this morning, Ron, that way you won't have to share." Anne smiled as she began passing plates around the table.

"Thanks, Mrs. P." Ron managed between bites.

IV.

After breakfast, Kim and her mother went upstairs to get their needed articles, Kim's book bag, Anne's lab coat. As they left Anne asked, "I have to go in early, today, so can I give you kids a lift?"

"Sure, Mom, thanks." As the two women left the room, James lowered his paper, "Ronald, I was serious about the teasing, I hope I didn't hurt your feelings."

Before Ron could answer, a silver and blue rocket flew through the room, collided with the wall and slammed into his chest, before falling to the floor. The twins came running in pursuit, passing the doorway as the rocket smashed to the floor.

"Aw, man..."

"Our best fuel..."

"Too."

"Boys, what has your mother told you about rockets in the house." Their father began sternly.

"Aw..."

"Gotta go." The twin terrors snatched their prize and ran from the room.

Mr. Possible's attention returned to Ron. Mr. P. had heard the phrase, "blood drained from his face", but he had never seen it before. "Ronald, I think Anne should have a look at you. That was a pretty nasty strike from the rocket."

Ron shook his head, looking up with a desperate plea, "No, no, don't tell her," he coughed harshly, "or KP, call my dad."

James was worried now, "Ronald, much as I like Dean, he's not a doctor and I think..."

"Please," Ron wheezed, "Important, call dad. Have to...home."

James stared at the boy he had known for fourteen years and made his decision. Picking up the phone, he punched in a number. "Mr. Barkin? James Possible. Fine, Kimmie's fine. Listen, what I was calling for, is there any way Ronald could come to the space center this morning? Maybe get a little extra credit for that weak grade he's carrying?" He listened for a moment. "Yes, I understand, Kim will bring him his assignments and the class notes, and he's still responsible for the material. Yes, of course, he'll be assisting me." James listened some more, nodding. "Yes, of course...no, I"m sorry, can't tell you the project, but I assure you, Ron will be of great help. All right, thanks."

As Kim and Anne walked back into the kitchen James hung up the phone. "Kim, I"m taking Ronald to the space center with me today, please get his notes and homework, all right?"

"Sure, daddy, but..."

"Nothing strenuous, I promise, just a little extra credit for his science class, and an apology for the breakfast joke."

Kim looked at Ron, who smiled and nodded.

"OK, Ron, anything you need from school?"

Ron leaned into Kim's hug, raising his head to kiss her cheek and whisper, "Just some of those fine KP kisses later, please and thank you."

Kim giggled, blushed and grinned, "Yep, you're feeling better all right. Ready, Mom?"

Anne looked at her husband as he came over to kiss her good bye, "Nothing to worry about Anne, I promise. Basically just some remote control I want Ron to try and defeat."

Anne shrugged into her coat, reassured. "All right, have fun boys." The two left.

When the front door shut behind them, James turned to Ron, "All right, Ronald I want an explanation right...Ronald, your shirt."

Ron was holding his jersey to his chest, but a slight dampness could be seen over his ribs. "Just get me home, please, Dad knows what to do." He slumped into his seat, "I think I'm in trouble."

James lifted the boy from his chair, supporting him with one arm under his shoulder. "I think you are too, and Dean had better have an explanation."

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I know this is short, but the next will make up for it. Explanations and accusations will abound, I promise.