Author's Notes: Well, this one is late.. sorry 'bout that. Anyway...
Willk1989 - You are correct, sir. This particular story begins about a year after StD, and was, actually, the first story that came to my head when I decided to try and write KP fanfiction. Oh, and I hope I did better with the spelling in this one, though I still can't believe I misspelled "aerial", of all things, in the last installment... Thanks for the input, man.
jasminevr - Thanks! It's not exactly "soon", I know, but here's the update anyway.
Dillymac - It doesn't have much to do with Judaism per se, but more to do with the fact that Wiktor Sobieski spent the WWII years in Dachau.
Anyway, on to the story... oh yeah, I don't own Kim Possible; that falls to Disney. And remember, kids, just say no to sixty-five...
"Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant..." 1 Corinthians 13:4
Chapter 2: Regression
Overton was a long drive from Middleton, nearly five hours. Fortunately, most of this was on the interstate, and as such the time sped by with very few interruptions by red light. Of course, there were the occasional interruptions by rest stop, as it is a given that the bladders of five people will not always work in sync.
When she wasn't the reason for the rest stop, Kim would take the opportunity to call Ron on the kimmunicator, usually just to chat, or to discuss some particularly interesting piece of scenery.. Of course, she also did this from the car, but the rest stops meant that they could talk without the sound of a car powered by experimental fuel cells.
The frequency of the calls was such that Ron commented that it seemed like Kim called every five minutes, just like clockwork. Not that Ron minded that, of course.
It wasn't a bad trip by any means: the route between Overton and Middleton was known for its natural beauty, and the tweebs even managed to behave themselves, at least after a while. About an hour into the trip they had gotten into a fight over who whose turn it was on the Gameguy, a scuffle which ended quite abruptly when the aforementioned Gameguy went sailing out a window and was subsequently dashed to pieces on the side of the road.
They sat and sulked for a half-hour, and then began a game of trying to identify which mountain Drakken would likely pick as a hideout.
In between tweeb-referee duty (something that she realized, belatedly, that she would miss), and calls back and forth to Ron, Kim would talk with her parents. Her mother had completed her undergraduate work at BAU, and she would tell Kim about how Overton had been "back in the day". Her father had never actually set foot on the BAU campus as a student, having not met the future Mrs. Dr. Possible till grad school; still, he had been to Overton a few times (the skiing was phenomenal), and he had also played mentor to some BAU Engineering students who had worked as co-ops at the Middleton Space Center. He knew, then, a little bit more about the current quality of students at BAU than Mrs. Dr. Possible did.
There was still a good bit of planning to do before they arrived; they didn't yet know which of the residence halls Kim would be in, so they drew on what Mrs. Dr. Possible remembered of the campus to plan how they would get from the administration building to whichever hall wound up being "hers". Kim also elicited a promise from her father that, if a bunch of frat boys offered to help carry her stuff up, that he would politely decline and no mention would be made of black holes, or other astral phenomena.
She intended to find Monique as soon as possible, and get to work exploring the campus. That could wind up being a bit tricky, as she had no idea where Monique would be staying at, and since the campus itself was rather large, and it could be difficult to find one person in the 6800 on-campus students. But she would try, of course: she was Kim Possible, after all, and she could do anything.
Beircheart-Andswarian University (now counted amongst the "Public Ivies") was founded in the year 1845 by one Oscar C. Prescot. He had made his fortune in some business or another, the exact details being lost to history (some suspect duplicitous methods, and the use of hidden templar gold, but they are not taken seriously, nor are the rumors that trolls were involved), and set forth from his hometown to try and find something interesting to do with his wealth.
After a year of travel he came across a small community in the Overton Valley, and decided right on the spot that it would be a perfectly fine place to found an institution of higher learning. For reasons best known to himself he chose to name this institution Beircheart-Andswarian, a combination of two Anglo-Saxon words which meant 'intelligent army' and 'answers'.
The project seemed charmed from the start. The people of Overton, at that time a sleepy hamlet of some 765 people, decided in short order that this was a right fine idea, and the town council threw their full support behind both Prescot and his millions. Prescot himself made it a point to hire laborers from Overton whenever he could; many offered to work for him and take as payment only the promise that their children would be able to pursue education at the new university.
He agreed, and paid their salaries anyway. Overton itself had basic elementary education facilities, so most of the kids knew, or would know, how to read, write, and perform arithmetic. He considered that an acceptable foundation. Still, he established the first ever High School in Overton, to teach a few advanced preparatory subjects.
Prescot was also an active Freemason, and as such was able to draw in a great many skilled and idealistic members of his Order. They, in turn, formed the initial crop of professors teachers at BAU, and also oversaw some of the harder aspects of its construction. The initial hall, now called Oscar C. Prescot Memorial Hall, was wrought of stone under their direction, and its cornerstone bears the mark of the Square and Compasses.
The initial curriculum delved into the classical realms of mathematics, philosophy, and literature. Prescot considered these things, the arts of numbers, thought, and reading, to be the foundation of all other learning, and an excellent start for what he imagined his college to be. It can be said that he had a point.
Eventually, Oscar Prescot died, and the people of Overton interred him in a great tomb within the cemetery of the Methodist church which he had attended. BAU continued according to his wishes.
By the time the Fall of 2006 had rolled around, the college itself had expanded to encompass nine individual Schools: the Konrad Dannenberg School of Engineering, the Amanda Gates School of Sciences, the Terry R. Gladden School of Architecture, the Alexis de Tocqueville School of Public and Foreign Policy, the Da Vinci School of Liberal Arts, the John H. Hinderaker School of Law, the Michael Yon School of Journalism, the Adam Smith School of Business, and the Caduceus School of Medicine.
It had also been amongst the first schools to welcome the ROTC curriculum upon its creation in 1916, and had also instituted Naval and Air Force ROTC units upon their own conceptions. This was considered highly appropriated for a school that had a word meaning 'intelligent army' in its name.
The town itself would not be recognizable to any of the original inhabitants. It had grown, over the years, from the sleepy hamlet of 765 to a thriving city of some 70000, not counting tourists who came for the skiing.
They arrived at a quarter after one, on a clear Friday afternoon in August. The Campus was dotted with a great many parking decks, and they were able to pick one close to the administrative center. They parked, locked the doors, and then the Possible family exited the parking deck (in an entirely mundane way that needs not to be recounted) and made their way towards Oscar C. Prescot Memorial Hall. A few people, as soon as they caught sight of Kim, pointed and tried to stare without looking like they were staring, but only for a moment, as the pressures of the day were enough that there was no time to gawk at a teen hero.
The Hall itself was wrought of stone quarried from the nearby mountains, and had been constructed in a similar style to that of the Capital in Washington. The columns were of doric style, and the bas-relief sculptures, in an odd cultural contrast to the Greek influences, depicted Anglo-Saxon and Norse warriors in feats of strength and courage from ancient tales. Prescot had always had an interest in those ancient cultures, and that interest was reflected in many ways on the campus.
Mrs. Dr. Possible sighed and looked around fondly, falling back into her memories of the old college days.
Kim, for her part, was beginning to feel a bit overwhelmed, and had already informed Ron that she was going to hold off on calling him back until she was moved in and settled.
The whole family discovered, as she found it impossible not share a few anecdotes, that Mrs. Dr. Possible had been just a little bit mischievous whilst in college. At least two stories involved pumpkins and parking decks. At least three stories were news to even Mr. Dr. Possible.
By the time they reached the Hall, she had gone from the amusing anecdotes to explaining some of the history of the college.
A giant welcome banner had been hung over the facade, the flag few above the rotunda, and the banner and coat of the school hung beneath the sign.
"So this building has been here since 1845?" Kim was asking as they stepped through the doors and into the foyer.
"Pretty much," her mom confirmed. "Some of the stone has been replaced for maintenance reasons, as well as the major overhaul when they wired the place for electricity, but yes. This building has been the heart of the school since it was founded."
The foyer emptied into the area just below the rotunda, and Kim could not help but stare up at the interior of the great dome, and feel overawed by the history of the place. A great, gilded chandelier hung from center of the dome, its many lights creating playful shadows amongst the supporting structures. Images from Norse mythology, and Anglo-Saxon songs, were painted on the interior sides of the dome, illuminated and highlighted by the play of the chandelier lights.
In a stone ring, at the base of the dome, was carved the motto of the school: Lux aeterna et scienticia sempiternam, libera eas de ore leonis, de ores ignem. Light eternal and knowledge everlasting, deliver them from the lion's mouth, the mouth of fire.
Let it not be said that Oscar Prescot had no sense of the dramatic.
The room itself was filled with students and parents, faculty and volunteers, and a set of tables at the back end of the room. Most of the people seemed to be lined up in front of those desks, which made sense, as there was a sign above the tables informing people that this was where one went to to learn one's housing assignment.
Dutifully, Kim and her mom filed into the line. Mr. Dr. Possible and the tweebs hung back, in order to keep the line from getting too long.
"Any sign of Monique?" Mrs. Dr. Possible asked.
"None," Kim replied, stretching on her toes. "Didn't expect to find her here, though. She came over with her parents yesterday, said that they wanted to see what Overton was like. I guess she's already moved in by now."
"Sounds likely," her mom replied, and then changed her voice to a whisper. "You excited?"
Kim looked up at her mom's smile and replied with one of her own.
"Excited, nervous... maybe even a little..."
"Scared?"
"Well, yeah," Kim said, blushing. "I mean, this isn't anything like the missions, or even Ron's trips to summer camp. I mean, I'm going to be spending the next few years of my life here, away from... home. Crazy isn't it?"
Mrs. Dr. Possible smiled knowingly and put arm arm around her daughter's shoulders.
"Not really; I felt the same things when I first came here."
"Had you spent the past few years running around with your best friend, trying to stop a bunch of megalomaniacal freaks from taking over the world?"
"No," she answered. "No, the worst I had was Bobby Johnson, who thought that putting worms in my hair was hilarious."
"Eeeegh," Kim groaned with a shudder.
"Yup, not fun. But Kimmie, just because you freak-fight doesn't mean its wrong for you to get scared about the normal things. Going off to college is a big deal."
"I know, I know, so not the drama... still... how did you get through all this? It's kind of overwhelming."
Mrs. Dr. Possible looked around at the sea of people, at the marvelous frescoes on the dome, and all of the awards cases, and the memorial plaques, and the great coat of arms, each of which stood and hung in the central hall. She remembered just how overwhelmed she had been when she'd stood on that very floor all those years ago.
"Faith, hope, and love, Kimmie. Those three will see you through pretty much anything."
"Love..." Kim repeated quietly.
"Ah... so that's what has you worried."
"We've never been apart like this, Mom! With me here, and Ron back in Middleton... I mean, what if..."
Mrs. Dr. Possible shook her head.
"Kimmie... I don't think that's going to be a problem."
"What makes you so sure?"
"Simple," she replied with a smile. "The only time I've seen you happier than you've been this past year was after the first day of preschool, when you couldn't stop talking about this new friend you'd made."
Kim surprised her by laughing. She laughed quietly, of course, since they were in a public place.
"I don't see what was so funny."
"No, it's not funny," Kim said still laughing, "it's just... mom, do you remember back before finals when, when I had dinner with the Stoppables?"
"The one where Ron used the mutant sesame seeds?"
"That's the one. Mom, what you just said... well, Ron's parents said the exact same thing about him."
"See?" her mom replied, beaming. "Nothing to worry about."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Kim said, finally satisfied. "Still... I wonder what he's thinking about right now..."
Had Kim any skills in telepathy, and could those skills reach all the way from Overton to Middleton, she would have discovered that Ron was thinking along similar lines, except he was doing his ruminations in a Bueno Nacho booth instead of in a line for a housing assignment.
It was not as it had been before the junior prom, when the onset of Erik the thrice-accursed synthodrone, and the fact that he felt he had noticed what had been building between himself and Kim only in time to watch it crumble away into ruin, had caused even the naco itself to lose its flavor and appeal. No, this was different, as there was no real despair in his heart, not as there had been when he had decided not to risk the best thing that had ever happened to him over unfulfilled (and possibly unrequited) feelings.
Here, now, the food was just as good as it always had been... he simply missed having Kim across from him.
Rufus, bless his little naked mole rat heart, was happily munching away at a naco.
'She's been gone, what, a few hours now? And already I'm missing her...'
"Rufus, buddy," he said aloud. "I dunno if I'm gonna get through this. If I'm moping around already..."
Rufus grunted something that sounded like "you'll live", and then he burped contentedly, having finished the naco.
"Think you so much for the moral support," Ron groused.
A small, quiet voice of doubt entered into his mind, and reminded him of Josh Mankey, and the Halloween party, and even of Erik-
'Oh, shut up,' Ron thought angrily. 'This is not a catastrophe, so don't get hysterical. Kim's in Overton, fine. It's far away, fine. We can keep in touch, I've got the ronnunicator. This is not a problem. We trust each other. We love each other.'
For the moment, he had it settled in his mind. Now, he just had to wait for Kim to call and tell him that she had finished moving in.
He checked his watch, then checked his plate, and noting the time and lack of naco, decided that he could best spend that time at home, listening to a few more of his grandfather's old stories.
The narrative had just reached they year 1939.
The housing form read "Halwende Hall, Room 242", and gave directions from Prescot Hall to that particular dormitory. Curiously enough, the form did not list a roommate, even though the room was designed to house two people. Kim just shrugged and took it in stride, figuring that she would find out who the roommate was when she got there.
Halwende Hall was practically next door to Prescot Hall, and as such the Possibles elected to leave their car in the parking deck and just walk there. Soon, they were standing in front of a large, five story, U-shaped building, which opened, as it were, in the direction of the courtyard. It wasn't long before they found the door (the path leading towards it being a dead giveaway) and had entered into the building. They bypassed the elevators, which were packed with students carrying arm loads of random stuff, and took the stairs to the second floor.
Mr. Dr. Possible noticed, with some displeasure, that Kim had wound up in one of the coed dorms.
The numbering began in the right hand leg of the U, with 20 rooms in each leg and in the base. Kim's room, 242, was on the right hand edge of the base, facing out towards the courtyard.
Kim knocked on the door first, just in case her roommate was inside and needed warning. The sound of footsteps told her that someone else was indeed inside the room, and headed towards the door.
Then the door was opened, and Kim and the roommate both let out a high-pitched scream. Then they hugged.
"Monique!"
"Kim!"
"How in the world did we get this?"
"I guess we just got lucky, girl."
They were both laughing when they stepped apart. Monique greeted Kim's family and explained that she had, in fact, moved in earlier that morning. In actuality, she had just barely gotten back from lunch with them, and they were on their way back to Middleton.
"So how's the room?" Kim asked.
"Not all that bad, really. Unless you brought, like, a hundred pairs of shoes or something."
"Monique, you know me..."
"Like I said," she replied with a wry smile. "Anyway, there should be plenty of space for the both of us, so I doubt we'll go stir crazy and strangle each other."
Kim leaned past her friend and looked into the room, and confirmed the assessment. There were a pair of desks (Monique's already had a computer out on it), two beds, and a pair of wardrobes and drawer stacks. Even with the furniture there was still plenty of room to move about. There was only thing missing...
"Monique? Where's the bathroom?"
"Communal," she replied, shaking her head. "Ends of the hall."
She pointed to a door just a few feet away from the stairwell, clearly marked "Bathroom – Girls". The boys room, apparently, was at the other end of the hall.
"Showers, too?"
"Yeah, don't worry, though. I already checked them out, and they're clean, and they have dividers."
"Oh, good."
Kim and Monique looked as if they were about to hit another epic chat session (if there was anyone Kim talked to more than Ron, it was Monique), when Mr. Dr. Possible decided to take charge. Or something like that.
"Uh, Kimmie-cub," Mr. Dr. Possible said, "we really do need to get your stuff up here."
"Need any help?" Monique asked.
"Couldn't hurt," Kim replied. "Every pair of hands helps."
"-and just drop a few siege tanks behind their lines," they heard coming from an open door down the hall. "Remember: flank and rear attacks are your friends."
The man the voice belong to back out of the room and closed the door.
"Ah, freshmen, and StarCraft..."
He was an older student, and obviously no longer a teenager. He had brown hair and a goatee, though the goatee was more of a dark reddish color. He was bespectacled, and was wearing a light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, blue jeans, and white sneakers. He was the sort who tended to smile a lot, and would often sport a highly amused expression.
"Actually, hang on just a minute, Kim. Randall!" Monique called out.
The young man turned and started walking towards them.
"Hey, Monique," he said quietly. "I guess your roommate finally arrived."
"Yeah, turns out I'm rooming with that friend from high school I told you about."
"So this must be-" he began as he drew up to them, but Monique cut him off.
"Kim, I'd like you meet Randall West, our floor RA. Randall, this is Kim Possible."
"Of course, the teen hero," he said with a smile, and held out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Possible."
"Call me Kim," she said, shaking his head.
"I'll do so," he replied wryly, then turned thoughtful. "Wait, if you're Kim Possible, then this must be..."
His voice trailed off as he turned towards Mr. Dr. Possible.
"Doctor James Timothy Possible?" he said nervously.
"That would be me."
"Whoah," Randall said, his eyes going slightly wide. "May... may I shake your hand, sir?"
One would almost say he looked slightly fan-boyish.
He seemed somewhat taken aback by this request, but Mr. Dr. Possible still smiled and held out his hand. Randall shook it eagerly.
"Wow... sir, its an honor to get to met the man who practically reinvented the science of hypersonic fluid dynamics and revolutionized space propulsion."
"You're familiar with my work, then?" Mr. Dr. Possible asked, sounding just a wee bit proud of himself. Kim and Mrs. Dr. Possible rolled their eyes.
"Yes, sir. I'm a junior in Aerospace Engineering here, and we have many copies of your papers in our library. I've actually read through several of them, in course of one project or another. Fascinating work."
"Well, I do try my best..."
"Anyway," Kim said loudly. "We do still have to, you know, haul stuff up here..."
The hauling of stuff didn't take as long as they had feared; one of Randall's duties, along with those customary to a Resident Adviser, was to aide his future charges in carrying their things to their rooms. He described it as carrying random heavy objects wherever he was told, and as the only time that freshmen would get to boss him around. During the trip down to the car, and back up again, he alternated between explaining his role as RA and talking shop with Mr. Dr. Possible.
This wasn't just engineer fan-boy hero worship, though there was some of that in there: for him, meeting Dr. James Timothy Possible face-to-face (and getting to shake his hand!) was a case of meeting a living legend. And to have such a legend deign to talk with a mere undergrad...
It was as if Wernher Von Braun, or even Robert H. Goddard himself, had returned from the past to consult with him on rocket theory. He can be forgiven, then, if he carried on in a sort of wide-eyed fashioned.
But that wasn't the whole story, though. He had been a RA the year before, and very quickly recognized in Mr. Dr. Possible a moderately overprotective father. His intent had been to put Mr. Dr. Possible at ease with him, and to try and build up an area of trust. He knew that the last thing Kim needed to deal with would be a hovering father. Best to ensure to the man, right off the bat, that his daughter was in good hands.
Not that he would say that directly of course, as such statements would easily be taken more than one way, and the "bad" interpretation would do nothing to help the situation.
By the time they got the last load of stuff up to the room, it became apparent that he had succeeded in that endeavor. Engineers know when to trust their own.
He took his leave of them and went to introduce himself to another pair of students.
Those who have moved into a dorm already know the words that were exchanged between Kim and her parents. There was one part, though, that was wholly unique to this family.
"Faith, hope, and love, right?" Kim said to her mom as they hugged goodbye.
"That and plenty of chocolate," her mom replied with a wink. "Just be glad you have my metabolism, and not your father's."
Even the tweebs said that they would miss her.
"Oh really?" Kim asked, pretending to sound surprised.
"Yeah. With you gone-"
"-there's no one left to play tricks on."
"Well, Ron's still in town," Kim offered with a shrug. Yes, she realized that she was offering Ron up for sacrifice, but his reaction would be very entertaining to watch.
"Eh, Ron's no fun for that sort of thing," Jim groused.
"Ron? No fun?" Kim remark incredulously. She and Monique traded a look. Ron could be described as many things, but not fun certainly did not top the list.
"Yeah. He doesn't get mad the same way you do," Tim offered by way of explanation.
Kim smiled and gave her brothers a goodbye hug.
"You know, in a strange tweeb way, that was actually sweet."
So began Kim Possible's first semester of college. It did not pass quickly, for few new things do, though it shall be discussed only briefly, as the troubles of that year came at its conclusion. Still, it would be remiss to not share a few vignettes.
After Kim and Monique had fully moved in and arranged their room to their liking, Kim called Ron and brought him up to date on the situation. He seemed delighted that she had wound up with Monique as a roommate, and termed the situation "majorly cool".
He also, along with Monique, teased her about the many pairs of shoes that she had to send back home. They talked for the better part of two hours, with Kim at one point giving him a virtual tour of the room and the adjoining hallway. It wasn't particularly exciting, but Ron wanted to see where Kim would be living.
He was pleased to discover that Kim had the same picture of them that he had: one taken on graduation day, where he was seated and Kim was hugging him from behind.
In the end they said "I love you" and signed off. Kim needed to track down some books, and Ron's mom wanted him for something or another. The rest of the day, between then and dinner, was spent going over schedules and attempting to figure out where everything was on campus.
That last issue was solved the next day, when Randall took the whole second floor on a bus tour of BAU and a few hot spots in Overton itself. He shared a few stories about the campus, namely how the new stonework was mostly due to the damages incurred during the Diablo incident, and the partly successful efforts of the ROTC cadets and student body to repel the assault.
Trebuchets and flasks of 6 molar HCl apparently worked wonders against Hephaestus circuitry.
They also got their first taste of the unique culture of the campus. Randall informed them that the elaborate tents outside of Geoffrey Hall were not tents per se, but were properly called war pavilions, and were in fact the work of the history department.
He also explained the large pillar of fire that suddenly sprung up behind Frederick Hall was either the work of the engineering department (this was said with some pride) or the chemistry department. He finally identified it as the work of the chemistry department, since it only lasted a few seconds. Such gouts of flame were apparently quite common around the engineering and sciences buildings, given the distinct lack of concern on Randall's part.
Kim didn't know whether she should be concerned that large explosions were considered non-events, or glad that they apparently didn't cause enough damage to be considered a problem.
Her first class of the week was HY100, Introduction to World History. It was a Monday-Wednesday-Friday class, which started at 9:15 in the morning. Fortunately, that was the earliest class she had that during that first semester, so she was never low on sleep. It is good to be able to start each day of one's first year of college well-rested.
The professor was one Dr. Felix Crandall. According to what Randall had told her (all of the students on his floor had gotten him to look over their schedules that first Saturday, just to give them a heads up on the professors), he was a very good professor: clear-spoken, engaging, and well versed in his subject matter.
His doctorate was from Harvard.
He was, however, a bit, well, insane. Of course, so was the entirety of the history department.
No one was really sure when it had started, or how exactly it had come about, but there seemed to be an institutional psychosis that afflicted every single teacher of history at BAU, the new ones as well as the legacy professors. No one knew why; a few psychologists had studied it, but they were unable to provide an explanation. It simply was, had always been, and would always be so.
Of course, Randall hadn't told Kim, or anyone else, exactly what the psychosis was; he said that it had to be experienced first hand.
At 9:15 A.M., on the dot, that first Monday morning, Kim Possible discovered the true nature of the History Department when a Norse Warrior walked into the room.
Dr. Felix Crandall was arrayed in what looked like leather armor and a series of fur pelts, likely deer. A polished shield was strapped to his back; his feet were girded in boots of animal skin, lined with fur; and he wore upon his head an ubiquitous horned helmet. He looked at the class and uttered a very guttural grunt, one that suggested neither pleasure nor disdain nor you-will-die-as-I-crush-your-skull aggression.
He had also brought with him an old battle-axe.
Then he sent his mother-in-law home (why she was there in the first place, Kim never found out) and drew a large mace from his belt, which he would then wave around and gesticulate with in order accentuate his lectures.
This had two effects: the first, was that every class he taught sat in rapt attention. The second was that next Wednesday nary a soul was to be found in the first row of desks.
It was, after all, a rather large mace.
The entire History faculty was like that. Oh, there were the instances of individual variation, of course; some carried swords, or spears. instead of maces; a few wore war-paint; several of the older professors had capes; and not a few carried real battle-axes, their edges kept sharp and gleaming. These last were greatly feared come finals, and mostly taught upperclassmen.
Her least favorite class, by far, had to be MA192, otherwise known as Introduction to Calculus. It wasn't that it was a bad class, nor was it that she found calculus to be overly hard. It was just so boring.
Kim had taken a Calculus class her senior year, one which had covered all the basics of the subject, from limits, to derivatives, to integrals, and all the way up to integration by parts. Therefore, when the professor began talking about limits and l'Hospital's rule and other foundational concepts of modern calculus, it was little more than a tedious review exercise to her. Couple that with the fact that the professor was the single most boring person on the face of the planet...
It goes without saying that some subjects are just nowhere near as exciting as others, except to certain types of people. Mathematics, despite the fact that it is the foundation of the universe, is one of those subjects. There is very little excitement to be found in crunching numbers, although a proper sort of teacher can can work to make it so.
Kim did not have one of those teachers. Hers was droll, incredibly soft-spoken, and seemed to have a personality that was designed to do little more than suck all the excitement out of the room.
This was also a four day per week class, meeting on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday. By Tuesday, she had already started complaining to Ron about it.
That Wednesday she arrived to class ten minutes early, as was her habit in all her classes. She also carried her kimmunicator with her; while she was technically off-duty for the next few years, given the fact that her famous foes were all in the slammer, she still carried it around 'just in case'. Old habits die hard, and they had always known that Kim Possible would never be able to step away from the hero business completely.
Even so, Wade had set up the site to redirect to the "Team Impossible" section of the Global Justice website for all but a select list of visitors. But that is not important.
What is important is that, less than thirty seconds after Kim sat down in her desk, she heard the kimmunicator vibrating in her backpack (she had it set to vibrate so, on the off chance that she did get a call, it wouldn't disturb the lecture). She pulled it out and saw that she had received a text message, so she pressed the open button to read it.
Yo, listen up, have a holla' from Ron/
I know yo professor, he be dronin'/
But why your face sad like a newly minted ronin/
It was another one of Ron's silly raps, just like the one's he used to leave in her backpack their senior year. This one had much the same effect, leaving her completely and utter charmed, and able to actually get through the boring class with a smile on her face. She thanked Ron profusely shortly thereafter.
A similar rap would arrive on the kimmunicator, without fail, each day of that class for the entirety of the semester.
Time passed, and the first semester went by at a speed that was slightly greater than that of molasses. Kim and Ron talked at least once a day, and often more. Ron, it turned out, had in fact gotten a job at Bueno Nacho, though this time he made sure that he did not usurp Ned's rightful position as manager. He had even, wonder of wonders, finally traded in that old scooter for an actual motorcycle. It wasn't the newest on the market, nor was it a vintage model, but it would serve to get him from place to place at a speed that was actually faster than he could walk.
They would discuss what college was like, about how the classes and people were so very different from Middleton High, and how it was almost like a different world. These stories were short, and often humorous, generally involving test-time stresses and juvenile pranks from kids who were away from home for the first time.
Ron would also share the stories from his grandfathers tapes; how he spoke of regretting the decision to, if not necessarily cooperate with, then at least not to resist the German invaders. The Sobieski family had been Messianic, not Orthodox, for generations (all the way to well before the twelfth century), and believed in part that this would spare them; in this belief, they were sorely mistaken.
By the time they realized what was happening, it was too late.
Ron told Kim how Wiktor and his entire family had been arrested and, ere the establishment of the Warsaw Ghetto and Treblinka extermination camp, how they all wound up in the Dachau concentration camp in southern Germany. There a number was tattooed on Wiktor's arm.
Those stories, didn't last long, and Ron would only speak of them in general terms, and was uncharacteristically somber throughout the tellings. There was one time, though, when Ron shared with Kim a few verbatim lines.
"Ronald, I didn't know if I should tell you all of this or not. I'll admit, it hurts to tell it, hurts to remember... but I have to tell it, and you have to hear it, even if it hurts to listen. You have to know where you come from, Ronald. You have to know that evil really does exist in this world, no matter what sophistry is thrown at you, and you have to know what happens when you let that evil continue without a fight.
'Sometimes you have to fight for the things you love. When you stop fighting, that's when they get to tattoo a number on your arm.'
Kim knew why he'd shared those words with her. Words like them had been the rationale for their own private crusade.
They both knew that, no matter what the future came, fighting the good fight would be their task. They would look for some measure of peace in life, a place to spend their lives together, but they would never give up the fight.
Still, they tried not to dwell on such things too much. While acts of evil, and the consequences thereof, do need to be contemplated, to do so wearies the soul, and they were both already weary from separation. Their concerns seemed so light and insignificant in comparison, but there it was, and it can be said that Wiktor would not have begrudged them of the light worries. In fact, he would have smiled in delight.
Which meant that tales of Ron's family history were often (read, practically always) followed by talks of how much they missed each other. Charming and adorable text messages, along with long talks into the night, could not substitute for, well, for being together. They missed each other's touch, each other's presence.
Kim and Ron both were really, really, looking forward to Thanksgiving. Till then, they called and talked as much as they could, always ending the calls by saying "I love you" (cheesy, yes, but they did enjoy saying it).
Except for around midterms. Kim had begun to stress out a little bit, and actually asked Ron to hold off on calling her for that week, until she could finish the tests. The old Possible single-mindedness at work.
The midterm season ended for Kim, and Monique as well, on Thursday of that week. They returned to their dorm room, and Kim flopped onto her bed even as she pulled out the kimmunicator. The test was one of those where it had gone well, except she didn't feel like it had gone well.. The fact was, she felt really lousy about it, and just wanted to hear Ron's voice again, figuring that he would be able to charm her out of her funk.
She called him up. A paper bag mask with two eye holes cut out of it stared back at her from the kimmunicator screen.
She was so startled that she yelped and nearly threw the device across the room. Monique (who was of a similar opinion about her final, except that she had flopped into her desk chair instead of onto a bed), leaned over to see what was going on.
"Whoah there, KP," came Ron's voice. "It's just me."
"Hi!"
"And Rufus."
"Hey, Ron," Kim said, her voice steadying. "You startled me there."
"Yeah, heh-heh. Sorry 'bout that."
"So... why are you wearing a bag on your head, exactly?"
"Well... you remember all that stuff that Drakken was ranting about when we caught him, all those inventions and gadgets that he'd shipped off?"
"His "Legacy"? Ron, what happened?"
"Well, we kinda sorta had a run-in with one of the devices..."
"Oh no," Kim whispered, as visions of Ron horribly scarred or maimed by some horrendous ray of doom paraded through her head.
"Ron, take off the bag."
"KP, I don't-"
"Ron, please," she said gently, interpreting his reluctance as confirmation of her fears. "I need to see if you're alright or not."
"Okay, okay," Ron grumbled, and then he took the bag off.
The difference between the reality and her expectations was so startling that Kim was unable to restrain the giggle that welled up inside her. She placed a hand over her mouth to hold back any further mirth, while Monique just let it all out.
Ron glowered at them both.
"Ron, dear, I'm-"
"You're laughing at me, not with me," he groused.
"Well, yeah," Kim admitted. "But I have to ask, why do you have a mullet?"
"Remember how you said that you were worried that we were forgetting something? Well, turns out that something was Motor Ed."
Kim smacked herself on the forehead.
"I dunno what that ray used to do," Ron continued, "but Motor Ed turned it into some kind of mullet ray. He planned to get revenge against his old employer, or something crazy like that, by giving everyone mullets."
"So why am I just hearing about this now?"
"I told Wade that Rufus and I could handle it," Ron said with a smile. "Figured you needed to concentrate on midterms."
Monique started laughing again.
"Ron Stoppable," Kim said, "sometimes you are just too sweet. So... how'd you beat him?"
"Well, Rufus did most of the work," Ron said, patting the naked mole rat on the head. "I just ran around and kept Ed occupied, while Rufus reprogrammed the ray gun."
"What'd he change it to?"
"A baldness ray," Ron said smoothly. "He zapped Motor Ed with it, caused all his hair to fall out. I thought the poor guy was gonna cry."
"Nice move Rufus!"
"Thanks!" squeaked the mole-rat.
"So, Ron," Monique asked, having finally quit laughing, "do I wanna know why you haven't gotten rid of the mullet yet?"
"Calls for a demonstration, Monique," Ron replied. "Rufus, scissors."
Rufus hopped out of the frame and handed Ron a pair of scissors. Ron, without ceremony, took hold of a lock of hair from the back of the mullet and cut it off. It grew back almost immediately.
"Doc says that the effect will last another week or two," Ron commented. "Then I can go back to Ron style."
"No, I think you should keep it," Monique said, deadpan.
"Yeah, the mullet is just so... you," Kim added.
"I should have left the bag on," Ron grumbled. Rufus chattered sympathetically.
Still, despite the teasing and good-natured jabs, Kim and Ron ended the call with their customary "I love you".
"So, you'll be coming home tomorrow?" Ron had asked hopefully. It was the day before the start of Thanksgiving break.
"Well," Kim replied reluctantly, afraid that she was going to disappoint him. "Ron, I think I'd better just show you."
She got up and carried the kimmunicator over to the windows, and held it up so that that camera was pointing outside. Monique was sitting on her bed, reading a book.
"Huh," Ron said. "That's a lot of snow."
"Four feet of accumulation," Kim said sadly, "with drifts up to six feet."
"I guess you're stuck there, then?"
"Looks like it," she replied, and then turned the kimmunicator back to her.
"Ron, I-"
"KP, listen... if you can't come, you can't come. No use in putting yourself in danger trying to get here. I'd rather wait than have you in a sideways car on a highway somewhere, or trapped in a six foot snow drift. They taking care of you over there?"
"Apparently this isn't all that uncommon; the school is keeping the dorms and dining hall open, and it looks like they have enough food on hand to keep us fed till we dig ourselves out. The city is already powered by one of Rufus' cold fusion reactors, and there are plenty of localized backup systems, so we'll be kept warm."
"See? All the comforts of home," Ron said with a grin.
"Yeah... all except you."
They both flushed bright red and were silent for a moment. Monique smirked, her face hidden behind her book. It wasn't that Kim was lonely, after all, she did have Monique as a roommate, to say nothing of the fact that she had actually made a few new friends from her classes. Nope, no reason at all for her to be lonely.
Yet it just hadn't been the same, especially around Halloween.
Kim looked out the window, at the pure white covering on the ground, and the fur-clad men who were wandering around in it.
"Remember all the times we went sledding, Ron?"
The men were carrying pieces of lumber, along with assorted hand weapons.
"Yeah. Just you, me, Rufus, and the ever-present quest for the ultimate ride."
They looked like they were erecting structures in the yard, old-fashioned huts of some sort.
"Always loved the sledding, never was too sure about the questing," Kim said. "Remember how close we had to sit, just so we would fit on the sled?"
"Don't remind me, KP," Ron said. "I'm Kimsick enough as it is."
She stuck out her tongue at him.
"Ron, all I'm saying is- what in the world are they doing?"
The activity on the lawn had finally caught her attention, and the sight of what had to be the BAU History Department building a replica of a medieval village on the snow-covered lawn was enough to completely derail her train of thought. Her sudden track-jumping even caused Monique to look up from her book (as she figured that there was no more point in covert eavesdropping), and walk towards the window. Kim again held up the kimmunicator so Ron could see what they were seeing, and all three of them were absolutely flabbergasted.
Naturally, they decided to investigate. Kim kept the kimmunicator on as she and Monique threw on their winter coats and exited the dorm room. Kim had already given him a guided-tour-by-kimmunicator, so Ron was able to recognize the blur he saw as the hallway, stair well, lobby, and exit door of the residence hall. The snow covered yard was a definite first, for all three of them in fact, as was what they saw in the yard.
Half the history department was finishing the construction of what looked like an early medieval English village, while the other half was filling the village with snowmen. Every so often they would exchange grunts and wave their weapons at each other in what appeared to be comradely gestures.
"That," Ron said over the kimmunicator, "is one of the strangest things I've ever seen."
"Yeah, no doubt," Kim replied uncertainly.
"You ain't seen nothing yet," came a voice from behind them. Kim and Monique whirled to see to Randall standing there, leaning against one of the building walls and sipping something from a cup. "The fun hasn't even started."
"You've seen this before?" Monique asked.
"A few times. They do it whenever it snows."
"Do what, exactly?" Ron asked, sharing a look, as best as possible, with Kim. He'd already 'met' Randall during a random hallway encounter, so he knew who it was they were talking to.
"Just keep watching. Oh, if y'all get cold, they've got some hot chocolate over there," Randall said, gesturing towards a cluster of Vikings and students. They were standing around a set of wooden kegs which were dispensing hot chocolate instead of beer.
After a few minutes the construction was complete, the professors shooed the students away to a safe spot, and then they gathered together a distance away from their faux village. The head of the department, an older man who would have looked fairly distinguished in other clothing, drew his axe and stood in front of the group. He began to do an impression of what it would look like if George C. Scott had played Patton as a Viking. Of course, he also did this in old Norse.
"What are they saying?" Kim asked.
"Dunno, never have figured that out," Randall said nonchalantly, taking another sip of hot chocolate. "I think it has something to do with bloodlust."
Apparently this was true, if the fierce turn that their expressions had taken was any indication. The department head was yelling something at the top of his lungs and waving his axe in the air. Many of his statements were greeted by great yells and roars from the assembled professors. They had all drawn their own weapons, a bizarre collection of swords, axes, and maces, and several brandished lit torches. These they all thrust into the air in great expressions of battle fury.
Then the speech reached its climax, and the old professor turned away from the crowd towards the village. He cried out one last phrase, swinging his axe above his head as he did so. At the end he let out a wordless roar and pointed his axe at the village; the professors responded with a similar roar and with similar gestures, and then as one they charged the village.
Their swords, axes, and maces hewed the "villagers" into great poofs of snow, and the torches set the wooden huts ablaze as the history department proceeded to loot, pillage, and burn their construction. It was over in about fifteen minutes, and the professors danced and congratulated each other amongst the remains of the slaughtered snow, and then began to march away from the school and into town, intent on paying a visit to their favorite pub. Post-battle celebration, of course.
Kim and Monique stood there, slack-jawed. Randall just took one last sip of hot chocolate and crumpled the empty cup, commenting that it seemed like the professors had slowed down some: it had taken them only ten minutes last year.
"That," Ron said through the kimmunicator, "was the single most disturbing thing I have ever seen. Yet, it was strangely entertaining."
Like the snow, the rest of the semester came and went. That is to say, finals came and went. College finals are an experience in and of themselves; high school has nothing that can prepare one for them, they simply have to be taken as they come. Fire alarms often go off during finals week, as stressed students take to smoking to relieve the tension. Others choose to yell, or throw things, or have a psychotic episode. Many more, the vast majority of students, simply go through and do it, with no ill effects.
Kim and Monique, for the most part, fell into that latter group. There was one time, though, when they both took a good two minutes and just screamed hysterically, after which Kim called Ron and babbled incoherently for another two minutes, whilst Monique gave one of her pillows the evil eye and began to accuse it of talking smack.
Then they were fine, Ron was very confused, and Kim and Monique got back to studying. They had passed, and survived, their moment of peak stress.
Then, one day, one glorious Wednesday, the Last Final of the Semester was done. To add insult to injury, though, it was an evening final; by the time they finished, it was nearly eight o'clock at night.
It was also one of the classes that Kim and Monique had together, so they returned to their room at the same time, went in, and collapsed on their respective beds.
"Brain... overload..." Kim muttered.
"At least it's over," Monique said. "I say we celebrate."
"Where at?"
"Where else, girl?" Monique said, growing excited. "Club Banana!"
"You have got to be kidding me," Kim said, as she and Monique stood outside of Club Banana. This was a free-standing building, not a store in a mall. A chill wind blew in the winter air, but the skies were clear, and there was no snow. Just the moon and stars and streetlights.
In this Club Banana, one would not find capris, or tank tops, unless one found them on the patrons; though it would be very hard to find someone crazy enough to wear capris or a tank top during an Overton winter. This Club Banana, in fact, sold no clothes at all.
It was, in fact, a nightclub, though one geared towards the almost-out-of-and-just-barely-out-of-high-school demographic. Which meant funky dance tunes and the flashing lights, but no alcohol. Monique explained that it was a new business venture on part of Club Banana corporate, and Overton was one of the flagship locations.
"I gotta show this to Ron," Kim said, and started feeling around her pockets. The searching slowly became frantic, and a look of panic crossed Kim's face.
"Oh no," she whispered. "I left the kimmunicator in the room. Aggh, I told Ron I'd call him when I got done..."
"Calm down, girl," Monique said, talking her by the arm and steering her back towards the open door. "You can call him up when you get back. I'm sure that he'll understand."
"I dunno, Monique..."
"Kim, he'd want you to enjoy yourself right now, alright? Trust me, the Ron we know won't get all tweaked just because you were too brain-tired to remember the kimmunicator."
Kim relaxed, knowing that Monique was right: it was no big. Besides, she'd be seeing him again, in the flesh, the next day. She let Monique direct her into Club Banana.
They were right, of course; it would have been "no big", save for what happened after.
The interior of Club Banana was two-tiered. An elevated eating section surrounded the dance floor on three sides, with stairs leading down to the floor itself. The DJ was playing what sounded like a dance remix of "Naked Mole Rap". That ended shortly after Kim and Monique entered the building, so Kim didn't have much time to wonder exactly how the DJ had acquired a copy of that song.
The DJ launched into something that neither of them recognized, but it had an easy enough beat, so they made their down the steps and out onto the dance floor.
In a way, a fight is somewhat like a dance; you find the the rhythm and go with it, only in the fight you have to deviate from the rhythm somewhat in order to actually get a hit in. Fortunately, in dancing, there is no hitting. It is just finding the rhythm and moving accordingly.
Kim was very good at finding rhythms; years of freak fighting and cheerleading had honed those instincts in her. She moved slowly at first, just trying to catch the beat and learn the rhythm, and also see the movements of those around her. Then after a minute the music began to swell, and she let her eyes close and began to dance.
It seemed as if she danced with shadows, for her body moved as if there was someone there with her, pressing against her at times and moving around her at others. Every movement, every sway and gyration, looked as if it was accommodating the presence of a partner.
Ron was in her mind's eye.
They continued throughout a couple more songs, until Kim and Monique were both tired, then they left the floor, purchased a couple of sodas, and claimed a table. They made small talk for the next hour or so, letting the time slip by as they alternated between talking about girl stuff, the past semester, and their plans for Christmas break.
At one point Monique stopped and looked past Kim.
"What is it?"
"I think you've caught someone's eye," Monique said slyly. "Almost "whoah" worthy."
Kim turned to look. A few tables away, seated against a wall, was a young man. He was clearly several years older than Kim or Monique; indeed, he was even older than Randall (who, coincidentally, was on the dance floor). He had dark hair, almost black in color, and he wore black pants, black dress shoes, and a black sport coat, all along with a navy blue sweater. There was a small pin on his lapel, but should couldn't make it out.
He was clearly staring at them, at Kim in particular, though in that slightly off-center way that men do when they don't want their target to know that they're staring. All around, he was a well dressed, clean-cut, pretty-boy.
Kim turned back and looked at Monique.
"So not my type."
"Girl, back in the when, you would have been swooning all over him."
"Key phrase, Monique: "back in the when". That girl was a silly teenager who couldn't see what was right in front of her, and I'm not going back there."
"You've got it bad, don't you?" Monique asked with a grin. Kim flushed and smiled.
"Remember when Hirotaka was in town, and the whole "truly madly" thing?"
"How could I forget? That dude was a player."
"With Ron... I finally figured out what I meant by that."
They continued talking, along the same vein, for a good long while, until Monique realized that their drinks were empty, so she went to get a refill. Kim sat alone at the table, lost in her own thoughts. As had occurred more often than not, those thoughts turned to Ron. At times her memories of him were strong enough to where she could almost conjure his voice out of thin air, or feel his touch out of nothingness...
No, that wasn't a memory. That was a real hand on her shoulder. She turned and saw the man from the table by the wall.
Her breath caught.
'What in the world?'
"Excuse me," he said politely. "But you're Kim Possible, right?"
His irises were black as coal, save for a ring of gold that bordered the pupils. He was close enough to where she could see his lapel pin: it was a pyramid, with the top fifth bearing an eye and floating above the rest. She also got a better look at his face.
Indeed he was handsome, but in a way that was almost luciferian. As if there was something lurker beneath the exterior, something that no one would like if they saw it.
"Yes," she replied, her voice shaking, but not from fright or nerves. No, she tremulous for another reason.
Elevated heart rate, elevated blood pressure.
"I thought so," he said, and sat down next to her. He had to pass behind her as he did this, and his hand never left her. No, he gently moved his fingers across her shoulders and the back of her neck, caressing her. Kim trembled at his touch.
"Believe me when I say, Ms. Possible, that I've wanted to meet you for a long time."
'Why did I blush?'
There was barely concealed menace in his face.
"What are you doing to me?" she whispered.
Shallow breathing. She wanted to turn away, to get up and smack him, or leave... but she stayed. It was as if her mind had lost all control to something far more primal, leaving her body to run on pure instinct.
"Only what is natural, Ms. Possible," he whispered, and leaned towards her, his intentions unmistakable.
She tried to turn away. He smiled.
"You resist. Your mind beats against me," he whispered. "Yet your body will obey my every command..."
"So, Monique, how were finals?" Randall asked. He'd run into her (not literally) at the soda fountain.
"Way different than High School," she replied, filling up her and Kim's cups. "How were yours?"
"After three years... 'bout normal," he said with a grin. "You get used to it after awhile"
"Uh-huh," Monique said dubiously. "'bout like you getting used to being on that dance floor?"
"Saw me, did ya?"
"You dance like a white boy," she snarked, but only because Randall would take it well.
"News flash, Monique," Randall replied as he put the cap on his own soda. "I am a white boy."
"Really? I wouldn't have-" Monique was cut off when she saw a camera flash out of the corner of her eye. She turned towards it, reflexively, but never saw the camera.
Instead she saw Kim, her face flushed and body trembling, as she pulled away from having kissed the stranger who'd been staring at her. The man grinned, in a manner like unto a wolf, whispered something into her ear, and then got up and walked towards the door.
Monique dropped the drinks in shock.
Kim's face turned from the flushed expression of bliss to one of utter horror.
"Go," Randall said. "Take care of her."
Monique started towards Kim, then turned to ask Randall what he was doing... but he was already headed after the stranger.
Randall West was angry. College was supposed to be a fun time, for crying out loud. Hard, yes, Difficult, certainly. But it was supposed to be fun, and his "kids" shouldn't have to worry about running into some kissing bandit while having fun.
He was from Georgia, and fancied himself a gentleman of olden times.
She was Kim Possible, teen hero, and daughter of one of the greatest engineering minds of the age.
What he'd just seen had offended him on so many levels it wasn't even funny.
The look of a predator had been on the other man's face, and Randall had seen that look before. He'd even had one on his floor the year prior; that situation had ended in a fist-fight on the quad, when he'd caught the guy about to prey on another student.
Memories of that fight flooded his mind as he stepped out into the cold night and caught sight of the stranger weaving amongst the parked cars. Randall broke into a run as the stranger pulled out a cell phone.
He closed the distance quickly, yet the stranger was able to walk out of view behind a SUV. Randall ran around to where the man had been.
No one was there. Only the cell phone, lying on the ground. Randall bent over to pick it up, but he felt the heat pouring out from it, and was able to withdraw his hand before it melted into flame and bright light.
'Magnesium filament,' he realized. 'Probably thermite, extreme exothermic reaction... yeah, I recognize this from chemistry class.
'Where did you go to?'
He searched the parking lot for a few minutes, but found nothing, and went back inside to collect his two students.
He found Monique talking with Kim, who seemed fairly composed, all things considered.
"Kim," he asked, kneeling down next to her, "what happened?"
"I have no idea," she replied, holding back a few sniffles. "It... it was like I just went haywire, and couldn't control my own actions."
"Some kind of mind control chip?" Monique asked. "Like those moodulator things?"
"No, it wasn't that... I-" she stopped, at a loss for words.
Randall nodded in understanding.
"Kim, Monique... get your coats on. My car is outside, and I'm taking you two back to the campus."
They nodded.
"Kim, did you get his name?"
"He never said it."
They were silent on the ride back. It was nearly ten, all three were alternately tired and running on adrenaline, neither of which made for good conversation. Randall kept a close eye on them, and escorted them the whole way from the parking deck to their dorm room. He only left when he heard the door lock, and then it was to find the security guards, give them as good a description as he could, and post someone to keep an eye on the grounds.
They wound up posting one of the Marine ROTC cadets. He volunteered to spend the rest of the night watching the hall.
In the meantime, Kim picked up the kimmunicator, wanting nothing more than to talk to Ron. There was a light flashing, though: she had messages.
"KP, it's Ron," the first message said. "If I'm reading the clock right, then you should be getting back from your last final around now. Give me a call when you get in. Love you, bye."
She checked the time. Missed him by ten minutes.
The second was a half-hour after the first.
"KP? Yeah, it's me again. I guess you're probably in the bathroom or something, or eating. Yeah... give me a call when you get back in. Love you."
The third came an hour after that.
"KP? Eh, I'll bet you've gone off an left the kimmunicator in your dorm, haven't ya? Eh, no worries, I guess I'm rubbing off on you a little bit too much! Anyway, call me when you get in, no matter the time. I've got some great news for you. I love you."
The last had arrived not five minutes prior to when they'd returned to the school.
"KP?" said Ron, and Kim gasped at the brokenness in his voice. "KP, I uh... I just got this picture in my e-mail, and... Kim, is someone playing a joke here? Call me ASAP... please... I love you."
'God help me, he sounds so desperate.'
Immediately she called him up. It took a moment, but he responded.
"KP!"
He looked a bit disheveled, as if he'd just started changing into his pajamas.
"Ron!" Kim said, then words just began pouring out in a quick babble.. "Ron I'm sorry I was tired and Monique and I went out and I left the kimmunicator here by mistake and I was going to call you but I forgot and and I'm so sorry-"
"Whoah, KP, no big on the call," Ron said, trying to smile.
Kim smiled and nodded. Then she said what she dreaded.
"Ron, that picture... what is it?"
"Uh...," Ron replied, sounding very uncomfortable. "Here, let me send it to you..."
The screen flashed a few times, and then the pictured appeared in place of Ron, and Kim closed her eyes sadly.
"KP, this is a joke, right?"
"I wish it were," she whispered. "Ron... it's real."
He looked like was going to cry.
"But it's not what you think," she said quickly, and then told him the whole story of what had happened at Club Banana.
He was silent, for a time.
"So... you have no clue what happened?"
"None whatsoever. It was like the moodulator... only worse."
Ron nodded.
"Okay. I'll... I'll have Wade run a track on this picture. I think Romeo and I need to have a little meeting."
"Mind if I watch?" she asked rhetorically. "So... what's your big news?"
"Well... it's getting late, KP. I'll tell you tomorrow, when we're both a bit more awake."
She smiled and touched where his face was on the screen.
"I'll see you then," she said, in much the same tone as she had used when under the effects of the moodulator.
"Tomorrow it is, then," Ron said, and then started to yawn. "Oy, time for bed in Middleton. Good night, KP."
"Good night Ron," she replied. "Ron?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
For a brief, hard moment, she was afraid he was going to just say good night again and hang up. Then he smiled, and looked at her with those warm, caring eyes... but was that something behind them? Only fleeting, but what was it? Almost a reduction in warmth, a brief flicker of... mistrust?
"Love you too, KP," he said, and she knew he meant it. She also knew, as he signed off, that he was hurt, and hadn't fully believed her story.
'And why should he?' she thought as she fell into bed, too tired to be angry. 'It's not like I don't have a track record of lying to him or shoving him aside for the next big hotness...'
It was fortunate that she had packed the day before, as Kim slept little, and what little sleep she had was fitful with worries and trepidations. Monique's parents had arrived early, and Kim helped her friend to load up. They said their good-byes, at least until they saw each other back in Middleton.
"Don't worry, Kim," Monique said after giving her a hug. "Ron'll be fine. The two of you will be fine. He was just tired, is all."
"I know. I can still worry though; I can do anything!"
"That's the spirit," Monique said with a laugh, then turned serious again. "He's crazy about you, you know."
"I know. Thats why, when we find whoever-that-was, I'm going to beat him to within an inch of his life."
Monique had left shortly thereafter, and Kim sat the dorm room alone, waiting for her dad to arrive. He showed up a bit before eight, and they had the car loaded and were on the road by eight thirty. Randall helped.
The story of what had happened at Club Banana was on the radio news.
Mr. Dr. Possible told her that the pictures had made the front page of the gossip section of several major newspapers, though the Middleton Times had refused to run them.
Kim alternated between fear and anger; fear of how Ron might react, if he considered the events of Club Banana a full-fledged regression into her old behaviors, and anger, since someone was clearly playing them.
And Kim Possible did not like to played, and she really didn't like being played when it broke her boyfriend's heart.
END CHAPTER 2