Author's Notes:
This was supposed to be the final chapter. However, it ran a bit over long, so I retitled it a bit and split it in two. So there will, in fact, be a fifth chapter, and then maybe something else. Depends on what I want to give away about the overall story line.
Thanks to Willk1989 (glad you've liked it, and keep an eye for 65 and 42), JMAN2.0 (there is more to the Panther Group than meets the eye, even more than I knew when I started The Fallen), jasminevr (oh, I'm gonna get worse... not in this story, maybe, but I'm gonna get worse), Campy (here be all the background you could ever want, and don't worry 'bout Mrs. Dr. P., she knows what she's doing), MrDrP (I fully concede the visitation point, but read the last one again: Wade did scan), Taechunsa (been discussion this over at RS, but just wait a bit, Ron'll get his shot in), and aimtbj (it may soon get thicker), for the reviews. The praise is good (I like the praise), but so is the criticism Both help to not only improve the story being written, but also help to improve future stories.
That being said... I figured that there were other things in this particular tome that arouse controversy besides Ron and Kim's college travels. Shows what I know, I guess :).
Anyway, onto the story.
"Love... bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things..." 1 Corinthians 13:4, 7
Chapter 4: Repentance
She was angry, but only mildly so; the fact that her daughter hadn't been angry, just weary and upset, had ameliorated her anger somewhat. But only just. She still could not believe that he had reacted in that way, that he had actually believed that Kim would...
But enough. She loosened her grip on the steering wheel and let her mind focus on driving, and not on the events of the past night. Certainly she didn't allow herself to think too much about the fact that her daughter was attempting to defuse a multi-megaton nuclear device. No, she focused on the route to the Stoppables.
She felt somewhat silly for driving a route that her daughter and practically-third-son had walked so many times in the past (though she had long suspected that half the point was the time spent in the journey, and that the destination didn't really matter, so long as they were together), but time was of the essence. She needed to get to Ron quickly, get him to understand what had really happened at Bueno Nacho, and give him a chance to explain himself. That was something that she really, really, wanted to hear.
Mrs. Dr. Possible was angry, but only mildly so.
He was angry; at what, he did not know. He had stormed away from Bueno Nacho in a huff, and had in fact stormed up to his room in a similar manner, the trip from the fast food place to his parent's house having not abated his huff a whit. So he sat on the edge of his bed, with naught but a naked mole rat for company, and silently fumed as he stared at the walls.
He sat there for hours, or days, maybe just mere seconds, his thoughts a bitter circle. He would alternately wonder how it was that she could have turned from him for some random guy... and would then immediately wonder how it was that he could actually believe that.
At that point memories would flood his mind: Kim walking off with Mankey and thoughtlessly locking him in the closet behind her; Kim walking off with Mankey with naught but a smile in his direction after he'd risked his life to keep her from vanishing; Kim dismissing him so casually, after he'd said he wasn't feeling well and should probably head home, with nothing more than a "Okay, see ya!" and giggle-fest with Erik; Kim turning and leaving the tree house, even as he was about to confess everything to her, when he just needed her there to talk to him for one minute, just because Erik had showed up. It was just like her, to cast him aside without thought when something 'better' came along.
But hadn't she told Bonnie off about that very thing, that she couldn't find anyone better than him? Even as he fumed, even as the doubting part of his mind tried to justify his reaction, there was always that small, steady voice, that reminded him of two very basic facts: throughout all of that, he had loved her always, and he always would, and now she'd fallen in love with him as well. He'd been smitten with her since he was four. That had grown to a deep friendship, and then to love, love that had hoped in spite of, and endured, far more than this.
Hadn't he won, in the end? How many times had she told him she loved him, and how many times had he seen her eyes sparkle at him like the stars at night? Deep down the still conviction told him that he'd seen had been false, he was wrong in his actions, and there was another explanation.
He simply could not think of one; the look he'd seen in Kim's eyes as she'd kissed that man had simply left him too conflicted to think clearly. So the war in his mind between the despairing doubt and the quiet, implacable hope continued, its resolution prevented by its perpetuity. Finally, for he could think of nothing else to do, he grabbed his walkman, headphones, and one of his grandfather's last tapes, and sat to listen. Maybe he would find something else there to think about.
Ron Stoppable was angry; at what, he did not know.
She was unconscious, but wouldn't be for long. She did not notice when Sparks held a cell-phone up to her ear and teleported her out of the library basement, nor did she realize that Shego had carried her to one of the walls and placed here there, so that she was held aloft in binders. However, though she was unaware of her surroundings, there was a portion of her mind that still functioned, and remembered what had happened. In that portion of her mind she considered her current predicament, in a manner like unto dreams.
She figured that she was going to die. At least, that had been her last conscious impression before the anesthetic had taken her; given all that had happened, it can be considered a fair assumption. A multi-megaton thermonuclear device was not to be used as bait unless something far, far more unpleasant was in the wings, and since both Drakken and the kissing bandit were involved, it was bound to be quite unpleasant indeed. She berated herself for having fallen into the trap in the first place, but got past that very quickly. A nuke was quite simply a bluff that she could not call, but had to face.
The one regret that she would have, that portion of her brain realized, was that she would die with Ron angry at her. That was an unpleasant thought. They'd had fights before, but they'd always made up in the end, and to know that this one was caused by someone else, intentionally... well, that had burned her up. Tracking down the kissing bandit and... having a discussion with him had always been the part would come after making up with Ron, at least in her mind. It just seemed like the thing to do.
She was slowly beginning to come to, and resolved that she would do whatever it took to survive, just so she could make Ron smile again.
Then they would pound the ever-loving snot out of the kissing bandit and anyone else involved. She partially smiled from the dream-thought.
Kim Possible was unconscious, but wouldn't be for long.
He was ecstatic, more so than he had been in months, perhaps in years. Vengeance was at last within his grasp, and even better, his vengeance brought with it the chance of ultimate victory. The only thing that gave him pause was that the plan wasn't his own, and thus likely had many strings attached. No matter, though; Sparks was committed through to the end, and if he caused a problem later on, well, Shego would deal with him. Any risk was worth to rid himself of Kim Possible, his own personal thorn.
Besides, even attached strings could become useful, given the the right circumstances.
His life of villainy had started well, but had quickly taken a dive when he and Possible had first crossed paths. Oh, sure, he hadn't actually succeeded with any take-over-the-world schemes before that, but then he'd been foiled by Global Justice, or the FBI, or some other organization, those whose names said that while the villain may have been taken down, he'd at least been taken down by professionals. Then along came Kim Possible, and he was taken down by a fifteen year old cheerleader and her buffoonish sidekick... and a naked mole rat!
He would rather have been taken down by the DGSE.
The frustration had built in him as, over the years, Kim Possible dealt him defeat after defeat after defeat. It was nerve-wracking, and a constant, unremitting blow to his pride, which had finally left him stuck in jail for half a year, cut off from all of his brilliant plots and schemes. He had even been afraid of the sidekick, for crying out loud, and only because of one moment of the serious face.
But now... now he would have his revenge, and maybe even get the world to hand itself over to him as a part of the bargain. If not... then it didn't matter. With Kim Possible gone, and his Legacy ready and waiting, he would be able to conquer the world at will. Let Global justice, or the NSA, or even the Marines come after him; the Legacy would be enough.
Dr. Drakken was ecstatic, more so than he had been in months, perhaps in years.
Mrs. Dr. Possible pulled into the driveway of the Stoppable residence at half past ten. She didn't know it, but Kim had already been captured by Sparks and teleported to Drakken's headquarters. Had she known it, of course, she would have done exactly the same thing as she did in ignorance, except a few words might have changed and she would have been considerably less composed. Even so, she had a bad feeling about the whole deal.
Still, she shut the car down, got out, walked up to the front door and knocked. She heard a voice say to wait a minute, and then a few moments later Mrs. Stoppable opened the door.
"Lilly!" she said in surprise. "What brings you here at this time of night?"
"Errand of mercy, Andrea," Lilly Possible replied as she entered the house. "Is Ron here? He and I need to have a little talk."
"Wake up, Ms. Possible. It's nearly camera time."
She came to with a groan, realizing that there were any of a hundred voices that would have rather heard upon waking. Well, actually there was only one, though there were at least two others that would have done in a pinch. Still, she would much rather have awakened somewhere else, anywhere else, without her arms stretched and bound above her, and her feet held fast below her.
Idly, she thought of the building made of cheese in Wisconsin, and the first big fight she and Ron had ever had.
Her eyes focused, and she recognized her current location as being a Drakken-style layer. This was confirmed when she saw Shego leaning against a wall, and saw Drakken futzing with what looked like another one of his death rays. She also realized that said death ray was aimed right at her.
Again, not a good way to wake up.
Then her wandering eyes caught sight of him, and her evening was made even worse. Still, it did bring to mind her ruminations from when she was unconscious, and the concept of smacking this guy around went a ways towards raising her spirits. Not too far, mind, but it was a start.
"Ah, good, you're awake. Welcome back to the land of the living, Ms. Possible," he said with the same old thin smile, with the same old polite tone.
"Let me guess, you plan to pheromone-warp me again?" she asked unkindly.
"Now, Ms. Possible," he said reasonably, "didn't I say that I wasn't going to kiss you again? Besides, this is your big night on camera, and we need you awake, and yourself."
She just stared at him for a moment.
"You have questions?"
"Yeah, a couple. For starters... who are you, and why are you doing this?"
"My name is Phillip Sparks," he replied after a moment, figuring there was no harm in telling her a few things, and that it would allay suspicion if he kept to the villain mold. "Once upon a time I was a graduate student at Johns Hopkins, studying biochemistry."
"Let me guess," Kim interrupted dryly. "Lab accident?"
"Very good, Ms. Possible," Sparks replied as leaned against the wall. "We were studying samples of mammalian pheromones, with the intent to see if there were any analogous compounds in human biochemistry. I'll not bore you with the details, as it ultimately involved three rubber bands, a Bunsen burner, and a single flask placed atop said burner for far too long. At the end of the day the lab was destroyed, I was barely alive, and my face had been shredded by flying glass.
"Oh, don't look so surprised. This... visage... was not my original face. I've only had it for a few years now. In my younger days I was far, far plainer; some... acquaintances of mine funded my reconstruction into this face, while a side effect of the explosion was... well, you already know the effects of that."
He paused and stepped away from the wall, just so he could look her in the eyes. Had she any room she would have jerked back from the malice that lay there, barely hidden behind a veneer of polite civility. However, the malice wasn't unaccompanied, for there was another look along with it, one that proclaimed that he was worried he might have said too much. She filed that away as he started speaking again.
"But that's just who I am, and why I can do what I do. But that's not my why, which is what you want to know, isn't it? Simply put... just the sight of you, and the act of kissing you... not only did I not enjoy it, but it completely disgusted me."
"Are you-" Kim tried to ask, looking askance.
"No. What sexual attractions I have are indeed directed towards women, hence a portion of my frustration. I simply hate you, Ms. Possible. Rather, I hate what you are, what you represent. You are a woman. Not just any kind of woman, but an attractive woman, the sort to turn any man's head. Not that such a thing matters, really, but it just adds to the problem I have with your continued existence.
"Let me tell you a story, Ms. Possible.
"Once upon a time there was a young man. He was hardly ugly, yet he was not what you would call handsome. He was, completely and utterly, plain, or average, if you will. Nothing remarkable at all.
"This average man had a friend. A young lady; they'd been friends since childhood, and to his mind she was more beautiful than... well, more beautiful than any words that you would know."
"I know a few," Kim said. "Ron's developed quite the vocab."
"Trust me, Ms. Possible, there are words in this world that few people, least of all the two of you, know," he said quietly. "In any case... they were friends, had been for a long time, and by high school this plain, average young man found himself "falling in love" with the beautiful girl. Yet it was not to be, for women like that never, ever, have eyes for the plain young men. No, she went for the football players, or the handsome artsy types. Most of those, of course, never even bothered to notice the existence of the plain young man.
"You see, this plain young man was slightly awkward. He wore glasses. He stumbled over words and over himself. He was intelligent. There are two things that it was socially disadvantageous for a high school student to be in the 90's, and those were intelligent or stupid. He was the former. He was an outcast, the object of jokes because he didn't do any of the "cool" things. When around him, the beautiful girl would defend him against the teasing. After all she, needed him to help with her homework and to help keep her grades up. When around her other friends, and he did not find out about this until after graduation, she was just as disdainful of him as the rest of school, which humored her... association with him because they all found it very, very funny that she was able to convince the brilliant loser that she actually cared about him.
"I'm sure you can understand the humor behind that, Ms. Possible.
"The young man, as I said, didn't know any of this. He believed that she was still his friend... his best friend... practically his only friend. He honestly convinced himself, even as he watched her chase football players and popular guys, that if he just kept at being a good friend then she would come love him as he did her. In fact, there were times when she did seem to draw closer to him, but those were when she'd had a falling out or two with her popular friends, and being close with an outcast made her feel morally superior to them. She was being charitable, you see, not like those other girls.
"And every now and then, almost as if she wanted to keep his hopes up, she would tell him she loved him. Maybe just as a friend, but he treasured each day that he heard those words come from her mouth.
"You can likely guess what happened, Ms. Possible. They graduated from high school.. and he never saw her again. Well, that's not correct. There was one time, that summer before they parted ways, that he came to her house, figuring that now was his only chance to tell her how he felt.
"She laughed in his face."
His face had steadily grown angrier as he talked, and then it took on a bitterness that Kim had never seen before. In anyone. She understood why.
She knew the average young man had been him.
"In the ensuing... hilarity," Sparks continued, "that young man learned much that he had missed for the past few years. Learned that being kind, considerate, helpful, there, doesn't matter a damn if one doesn't have the looks to go with it. He'd always been there for her, giving of his time, and himself, helping her academically, his own social life suffering for it, and occasionally helping her to keep her sanity when one or more relationships went down the toilet. When she didn't need him anymore, she tossed him out of her life, and he never saw her again."
"I'm sorry," Kim whispered. "She shouldn't have treated you like that."
He stared at her for a time, and then his face became twisted, for it took on such a look of hatred and malice that any handsome quality it once had was totally obscured.
He struck her, then, upon the cheeks, once with the palm of his right hand, and then again on the back swing.
"Shut up!" he growled through clenched teeth. "How dare you try and be understanding, how dare you assume that you can even know what that felt like, when you do even worse."
"What are you-"
He struck her again. Her lower lip began to bleed.
"I said shut up! At least when she pretended, it was just to string me along as a friend until she didn't need me anymore. In your case, you actually made him think that you love him. That is far, far crueler.
"You see, Ms. Possible, I learned something that day. I learned that love does not exist.
"It's a fraud, perpetuated by poets and artists and generally lonely people to convince themselves that there is something out there in world the worth striving for. All that exists is sexual attraction, the animal urge to mate and produce offspring that will then go on to produce their own offspring and thus, in some small way, perpetuate our presence in the gene pool. That attraction is nothing but a chemical reaction in the brain, one keyed to various evolutionary holdovers and societal norms. For some reason human society sees the need to romanticize this.
"And guys like me, and guys like Mr. Stoppable, do not trigger those chemical reactions in girls like you. You may like being around him; maybe you're like the girl in my story, and think that because you "love" an outcast, that makes you something special. Maybe you find him useful, somehow, and figure you can live with keeping him around, for a time.
"But mark my words, Ms. Possible, as soon as someone like me, but genuine, came along, you would have dumped him like the dead weight you secretly consider him to be. That's what you always do, isn't it? You've done it before, with the artist and the synthodrone.
"You're shallow like that; all women are shallow like that, and I hate all of you for it. I'm going to destroy you, Ms. Possible, just because you represent everything I despise. Shallowness, pretensions of virtue... I am going to enjoy watching you die."
"So you're doing this because the girl you had a crush on in high school wouldn't return the affection, and you think you're getting revenge by killing me? You don't know a thing about me," she said slowly, "nor about Ron. And when he gets here..."
Sparks laughed, a loud, mean laugh.
"When he gets here!" Sparks said through his laughter. "Ms. Possible, believe me, Mr. Stoppable's not coming."
Suddenly his mirth ended, and the hate returned to his eyes, and he grasped Kim's jaw in his right hand, and was not gentle.
"I didn't tell you, did I, what the beautiful girl did right before she sent me on my way?" he said quietly, but the tone of his quiet chilled her to the bone. "There was a man in her house, a handsome man, actually a perfect stranger, someone I'd never seen before. Then, before my eyes, she let him pull her close and kiss her, just as I'd wanted to do on so many occasions. Just as I did to you in Club Banana, and Bueno Nacho. What Mr. Stoppable saw in your eyes that night was what I saw in hers Of course, that was the intent all along."
Whatever compassion she might have felt for Sparks left her. Being hurt was one thing, but to intentionally force someone to feel such a pain, knowing full well yourself what it is like... such a thing is just evil.
"As for the girl, well, I've hated her ever since, even though she's not alive anymore. Now... you saw Mr. Stoppable's face as well as I did. All men are the same, Ms. Possible; we all react in the same way to betrayal of "love", which tells you how important the mating instinct is in male psychology. Believe me, I know: I've done this many times already, and each time the reaction has been the same.
"He's not coming for you, Ms. Possible. He never even wants to see you again."
Kim simply glared.
"You... don't know him at all."
"Ron Stoppable!" Mrs. Dr. Possible said in her surgeon's voice, "open this door... STAT!"
It was a voice that she figured Ron knew well; the "command voice" that Kim used in missions was a variation on the theme, and she knew how Ron reacted to that particular tone. She had tried, twice, to get him to open the door by speaking in a normal, gentler tone. Now, she decided to show Ron just exactly where Kim got her commanding presence from.
Sure enough, he finally came to the door and opened it, and let her in. He didn't speak, but she noticed that he looked tired and drawn. In fact... he looked a lot like Kim had, just before she'd taken the nap at the hospital. The room itself looked about as messy as she would have expected.
Ron went and sat on his bed and didn't look at her. On second inspection, she realized that he looked far more miserable than Kim had been, or maybe just more conflicted, she wasn't sure. Her time spent as a doctor had instilled in her a great deal of dearly-bought wisdom and compassion, and so she threw out her prepared speech (which had been somewhat harsh) and stood ready to wing it. Kindness would work better at drawing him out.
There was enough room on the bed, so she pushed aside a walkman and a pair of headphones and sat down next to him. Rufus walked up to her, all the while casting worried looks in Ron's direction. She patted the naked mole rat on the head.
"What were you listening too?" she asked quietly, trying to draw him out.
"My grandfather," he said hesitantly, and finally turned towards her. "Did Kim ever tell you about him?"
He seemed relatively eager to talk. Maybe not about the primary subject, but it was a start.
"No, she didn't. Who was he?"
"His name was Wiktor Sobieski," Ron said. "My, uh, my mom's dad, from Poland. He died when I was six months old, and left me a bunch of recordings, just so I could get to know him when I'd grown up. He... he watched his whole family, everyone he loved, die in the Holocaust."
"Oh, Ron..." she said, her voice trailing off. What do you say to something like that?
"Yeah. But ya know what he said to me, Mrs. Dr. P.? It's what was on the tape, just before you came in.
"He said that his dad was the last one to die, and he said 'I prayed to God to let me die as well, Ronald, and I didn't understand why He kept me alive. Two weeks later we were liberated by the Americans, yet I still did not understand why I was alive. Still, I decided to make the best of it. I came over here to America, to start a new life. Here I met my wife. Here, your mother was born, and in that I had an inkling of why I was here. But Ronald, the reason I remained alive... was so I could see your face. You, Ronald! You are hope personified, my boy, hope that no matter what they may try, that evil can never overcome us. You are proof, my dear grandson, that light still shines in the darkness, and the darkness can neither overcome nor understand that light! No matter what you may face, know this: the darkest time of this world could not prevent you from being born. No matter what happens to you, even if it seems like God Himself has turned His face from you, never give up hope. There will always be light to cut through your fears.'"
Ron paused in the recollection, having finished the line and needing to collect his thoughts.
"He seems very well-spoken," Mrs. Dr. Possible commented.
"Yeah, half the time I have to pull out a dictionary just to understand him," Ron said, with something approaching his old sense of humor. "The thing is... what he said... I wish I could believe that. He said earlier that he was afraid, so afraid, that his family line would be erased by the Nazis, as if they had never existed in the first place. In the end he found hope through that fear, and... I wish that I could do that."
"Ron... what are you afraid of?"
He turned away from her and looked at his shoes. It was a long, long moment before he responded.
"I'm afraid that I'll go to sleep and wake up and she won't be here anymore," he whispered quietly, sadly, and so hard to hear. "That she'll find another Mankey, or a real Erik, and she'll run off with the perfect guy and I'll just be... Ron Stoppable, once a boyfriend, and alone... and without her. And when I saw her and that guy kiss... I got scared. I don't want to believe it, but I can't explain..."
He paused, and blinked away tears, and then looked at her with pleading eyes. She read his emotions in his face, and Mrs. Dr. Possible felt ashamed that she had ever been angry with him. His eyes begged for her to give him something that he could use, something that would let him cut through the fear and hurt and loss and find his hope again. She would give it to him, but first she reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Ron... I have to ask a question. Do you love my daughter?"
His eyes changed, now softer, yet even more serious. They studied each other's face for a long moment.
"With all I am, Mrs. Dr. P.," he said sincerely. "Otherwise, I doubt it'd hurt this much."
She nodded, and smiled kindly.
"Good answer," she said with a wink. "Now... do you know what pheromones are?"
"Airborne hormones," he answered quickly. "Picked up by smell. Normally used in the animal kingdom to indicate territory or a desire to mate. Their existence and usage amongst humans is highly suspect."
She just stared at him, slightly open mouthed. He grinned at her, weakly, but sincerely.
"I may not know much, Mrs. Dr. P., but I do know that."
"I'm kinda disturbed that you do," she replied, but not unkindly. "Do I wanna know?"
"Well, I got some spam mail once..." he said, and then his voice trailed off and his face changed.
Then he experienced a single, necessary, and blessed moment of clarity.
Ron Stoppable was never a mathematical genius, nor was he a very rigorous logician. However, every now and then, sometimes even he could add two and two and get four (of course, he could also at times add "e" and "e" and get four, when everyone knows that equals 5.43656 and change; the boy never could round worth a flip). In that moment of clarity he found the final piece of his puzzle, the last variable in the great equations of why. It was that easy, yes, but only because he had wanted it to be. He wanted to find something, anything, that would explain what he'd seen. Mrs. Dr. Possible had given him that one missing bit of information.
His mind, now with something to counter the doubting whisper and reinforce the quiet surety, did the rest.
"Pheromones," he whispered, his eyes moving side to side in the sockets, as if they were scanning some text, or an image. "Then that means that he... and to her... on the sacred ground of Bueno Nacho... and I... I..."
Then his eyes went wide with horror, and something passed behind them, something that Mrs. Dr. Possible did not recognize, yet she felt a chill come over her nonetheless.
Then Ron slapped his palms against his forehead and fell upon the bed with a low, anguished growl.
"Argh, what have I done?" he muttered from his prone position. "I've been an idiot, haven't I?"
"Maybe just a little," she replied with a smile.
"You're sure of this?"
"Absolutely. I can even let you talk to the doctor who figured it out, if you want."
"No... no need. You wouldn't lie to me any more than Kim would. You think she'll forgive me?"
"I don't doubt it. So, what do you do now?"
"What else?" Ron said as he got up off the bed. The change in him was amazing; the old spark was back in his eyes, even if they looked very, very sheepish. "Find KP, apologize, probably kiss her a couple dozen times, and then figure out where to go from there."
Mrs. Dr. Possible was delighted. Then Ron looked confused again.
"By the way... where is KP?"
"Didn't Wade tell you?"
"No, I turned off the ronnunicator, even pulled the batteries, didn't really feel like- wait, tell me what?"
Mrs. Dr. Possible opened her mouth to explain, but then there came a panicked cry from the downstairs living room.
"Lilly! Ron!" cried Mrs. Stoppable. "Get down here, now!"
They had remained in the living room ever since Ron had gotten home. Well, both of them had gone upstairs to try and talk to him a few times, but Ron had told his parents each time that he didn't want to talk about it, thank you very much. Needless to say they were both quite concerned about their son, but didn't know how to draw him out. They were also quite happy when Mrs. Dr. Possible had shown up, and hoped that she would be able to get to the bottom of things, and fix what had gone wrong.
She was a doctor, after all. That's what they do.
So they sat in the living room, watched the ten o'clock news, and waited, and worried. After a time, though, the screen fell to static. This wasn't surprising; the cable box was occasionally balky, and still had a few quirks to it. What was surprising was that the signal resolved itself into something that most definitely wasn't the ten o'clock news.
Of course, a close-up of Drakken's face would surprise most people. Except for Shego, maybe, but that was only because he tended to have no concept of personal space when he started with an angry rant.
"Is this thing working?" he said, glaring into what was obviously a camera. "Shego, I can't tell... does this red light mean anything?"
"It means that we're live, Dr. D.," came a long-suffering voice from off-screen.
That was the point where Mrs. Stoppable had called for Ron and Mrs. Dr. Possible
"What? We are! Why didn't you say anything! Egh, never mind," Dr. Drakken said, and stepped back away from the camera. Now they got the full view of him, and of what looked to be some kind of giant ray gun behind and to his right.
At this point Ron (with ronnunicator in hand) and Mrs. Dr. Possible arrived in the living room. Ron, seeing Dr. Drakken, turned the ronnunicator back on and called Wade, and asked him if he watching the broadcast.
Wade said he had no choice, it was on all the channels, and not to ask, he was already trying to trace it.
"Citizens and governments of earth," Dr. Drakken began, "my name is Dr. Drakken. I'm certain you've heard of me. For nearly five years now I have tried, many times, to overthrow your respective governments and subject you all under my heel. Each time I have been stopped, mostly by the teen hero Kim Possible.
"My brilliance disrespected, my plans ruined, all because of this teenager... you do not understand the frustration... the anger... argh, grrngh..."
Drakken quickly devolved into an incoherently growling rant, accompanied by fist shaking and foot stomping.
"Dr. D.!" again called the voice of Shego, again from off-screen.
"WHAT, Shego?" Drakken yelled, stopping his rant.
"You've gone off-topic, and stopped using words."
"Oh, right," he said, still sounding mad and entirely unabashed. "Anyway, as I was saying... from the time I burst onto the take over the world scene, until the time I nearly owned you all with the Diablo bots, Kim Possible has championed your cause against me. Believe me, you all owe her a great debt; and now..."
He stepped to the side with a flourish.
"Behold your champion."
Mrs. Dr. Possible gasped and went weak-kneed; Mrs. Stoppable caught her and supported about the shoulders, and led her to a chair all the while whispering the 23rd Psalm to her. Mr. Stoppable turned pale, and looked to his son.
Ron stood there, his face grim and hard, and the knuckles of his right hand white as he gripped the ronnunicator. He brought the ronnunicator to his mouth and began talking quietly to Wade. Had he mind for such things, Ron would have been glad that he had clipped his fingernails earlier, for his left hand was clenched with such force that the nails would have drawn blood.
Even on the TV screen he saw the blood running from Kim's split lip.
Drakken's revelation was this: Kim Possible, teen hero, hung behind him, suspended upon the wall by her arms and legs, suspended helpless as his prisoner. It was apparent to all that the large ray gun was aimed right at her.
Briefly, idly, Ron thought of the building made of cheese in Wisconsin, and the first big fight he and Kim had ever had. The lawsuit that had followed a year later hadn't been fun either, especially since it was right on the heels of the one from the history museum.
"As you can see," Drakken said with an evil grin, "Kim Possible is my prisoner. The death ray pointed at her will kill her with only a single blast, and believe me, I have no reason to keep her alive.
"However, I am a sporting man, and I'd just as soon rule the world with a maximum number of peons to serve my whims, so I'll offer you a chance to make this bloodless. All the governments of the world have one hour to surrender their sovereignty to me... or your champion gets it. Do keep in mind that dear Miss Possible is responsible for keeping you free of me for all these years, and I know that many of you out there owe her one.
"You have one hour to surrender to me, or she dies. Make it snappy."
He paused for a moment, just to let the situation sink in, and for dramatic pacing.
"You thought she was all that," he said with a cruel grin, "but she's not."
Then the broadcast ended, and there was silence for a time in the Stoppable house, silence only broken by stifled sobs from Mrs. Dr. Possible. She knew, as well as anyone, that there was no way in the world that the United States, even if no one else stood, would surrender to Drakken.
She also knew that it wouldn't matter if they did, as Drakken would kill Kim anyway. She was a threat to him, and any reign of Drakken would never last so long as Kim Possible was in any way free and/or alive.
It disgusted her that her husband had once called this man a friend.
"Wade," Ron said, "how's the trace?"
"I can get you to within a mile of the signal origin, but that's okay, because it's well within the range of the tracking devices I put in the battle suits."
"Great, I just need a ride and- did you say battle suits? As in plural? As in mine is finished?"
There was a knock at the door. Wade smiled.
"Yup."
Ron walked up to the door and opened it; everyone else followed him with their eyes. A FedEx man stood at the door, with a large package in hand.
"Delivery for Ron Stoppable," he said.
"Uh, that'd be me," Ron replied uncertainly. The man passed him a clipboard.
"Sign here, please."
Ron did so, and then exchanged the clipboard for the package. The FedEx man bade them good night, and then turned and left, shutting the door behind him. Ron looked at the package, and then looked back at Wade.
"Dude, how do you do that?"
"You don't wanna know," Wade replied. "Go try it on, and I'll get you a ride set up."
He told Mrs. Dr. Possible and his folks that he would be right back down, and then he raced up the stairs to change into his new battle suit. Normally he would have exulted a little bit more, but he was still embarrassed with himself, and indeed thoroughly infuriated; it was clear to him now that the kissing bandit had intended to separate him from Kim just so he could hand her over to Drakken. This led to seriousness, and a certain economy of action.
Still, as he entered his room and shut door, he couldn't help but feel... something. Kim still loved him, and he had never been so glad (and, yes, so self-effacingly angry) to have been wrong in his life. Perhaps thats what it was: some kind of bizarre mutant relief.
He realized exactly what it was as he opened the package and began to put on the battle suit. It was the old Ronish sense that, despite everything that had just happened, he was getting his own battle suit, and that was just too darn cool.
Sparks had made sure that he was out of frame when Drakken was making his broadcast. Now that the ultimatum had been issued he was helping Drakken with the final preparations for firing the death ray. Shego was busy deploying the synthodrone guards to where they could intercept any attackers. As such the room itself was actually rather quiet, with only the sounds of their work and Kim's struggles against her restraints breaking the stillness.
Which meant that it was somewhat surprising when to Sparks when Drakken started talking.
"Forgive me for asking," he began, "but what exactly do you get out of helping me conquer the world?"
"Come now, Dr. Drakken," he said with a smile. "One would get the feeling that you don't trust me. What about honor amongst thieves?"
"I'm not a thief, Sparks."
"Teleportation device."
"That's called outsourcing," Drakken said defensively. "At least I don't farm out work to India. But seriously, I heard you talking with Possible. And while I fully understand the tragic high school incidents and how that has made you who you are today... that still doesn't explain why you want to help me take over the world."
"Let's just say that my... associates would be favorably disposed towards dealing with your regime, more so than they are towards the current governments in the world. If this works then they are quite willing to help you in your little world-wide coup... in exchange for, say, favorable tax status, or maybe a few advisory or high-level civil service positions."
"I see..." Drakken said slowly, and then he shrugged his shoulders. "Well, if your friends are willing to cooperate, and goodness knows it would make things easier, then such an arrangement just might be... workable."
"Excellent, Dr. Drakken. I shall communicate your agreement as soon as I can."
It was the same color as Kim's, white with blue stripping (he would have preferred red, but figured he could speak with Wade about that later). It went on the same way as hers; single piece bodysuit, with separate gloves, supply belt, and boots. Each of the pieces melded into each other when he put them on, so the suit itself functioned as one single unit. Wade had given him an instructional course back when he told Ron that he was working on a suit, so he already knew how the muscular enhancements and neural interfaces worked.
He struck a menacing pose and Rufus nodded in appreciation. Ron then picked up the ronnunicator and gave Wade a call.
"Hey, Ron. How's the suit?"
"I think it checks out," Ron replied. "Timing could be better, though. How's the ride coming?"
"He's en route now," Wade replied. "Should be there in a few minutes. In the meantime... put the ronnunicator down and look at your hands."
Ron complied, and heard the sound of Wade typing. Then the tips of his fingers extended a bit and took on the form of sharp claws.
It was at that point that Ron finally allowed himself to exult.
"Dude, badical! Ferret claws!" Ron cried, and took a few practice slashes at the air.
"And the best part," Wade said from the ronnunicator, "is that you can activate those just by thinking about it. I put 'em there for use in climbing, but you still have the wrist grappler. Just figured I'd give you something unique."
"Wade, you totally rock."
"And I'm not done yet," the fourteen year old said. "Check the package again."
Ron did, and this time noticed the nine inch long metal rod stuck in the bottom of the package. He pulled it out and was immediately struck by how heavy it was.
"What is it?"
"It's a bo staff," Wade replied. "Try and activate it."
Ron held it out and thought for a second, trying to find the right command. He was almost surprised when it actually worked, and the staff extended to a length of five feet. It still weighted the same, but he recognized it as a perfectly balanced metal bo, similar to the one's he'd used at Yamanouchi.
"Dude, how-"
"A little something I was working on for the space center," Wade explained. "They wanted a way to optimize the transport, from earth to orbit, of long metal rods for use in space station construction. I figured out a way to use magnetic fields to extend and stabilize a high-density concentration of metal particles and still have it be as sturdy as a solid bar. Run a current through it, and the particles form a rod. Remove the current, and they retract into the tube. Not all that useful for space construction because of the power requirements, but I figured I'd keep the design, just in case.
"The staff draws power from the battle suit, so you have to hold on for it to work. If you let go it'll hold a charge for about fifteen seconds, and will stay charged if you grab it in that time period, but it'll shut down if you don't touch it for more than fifteen seconds."
"Gotcha, Wade," Ron replied. "Anything else I should know?"
There actually were a few Ron (and Rufus) specific gadgets and functions that Wade had built into the suit, so they spent a few minutes going over the items, figuring out the vagaries of the suit itself, and working on a plan of attack. Finally Wade informed him that the ride was just a few minutes out, and he was going to sign off and try to narrow down the signal track a little bit more.
"Good hunting," Wade said as he ended the transmission. Ron placed the ronnunicator on his bed again, and shut down the bo and attached it to his belt, on the storage point that was located at the small of his back. He let out a breath, let all exultation and worry leave him, and then he looked around the room and took stock.
Still, he felt amazed that not ten minutes prior he'd been up here practically despairing of life, and now he was back in the saddle and about to charge straight... into... the lion's den.
'Ron, old boy, as KP would say, cut the drama.'
He didn't know for sure what he was about to face; certainly Shego would be there, and Drakken, and likely the kissing bandit, but he didn't know what else. Drakken, he wasn't worried about; while the man knew how to build a pretty decent laser cannon, some of the time, hand to hand to hand combat was not his strong suit. As for Shego... well, he'd gotten better in fighting, but he knew that she was way beyond his league. Somehow he'd have to get in there and free Kim before the fighting started, or else it'd be just another house of cheese event where they both wind up in irons. He didn't know how he was going to do that; despite the battle suit, despite the ferret claws, despite the training that he'd received and the fact that he could hold own against minor foes, he was still the awkward clumsy one.
Then his eyes fell upon his nightstand, and there was Rufus standing upon it, looking up at him and gesturing towards the top drawer. The one with the false bottom.
He stood there, frozen; if there was one thing he feared as much as loosing Kim, it was what he secretly kept in that drawer. Yet embracing it might be the only way for him to save her.
He'd give anything for her, certainly he could do this.
Still, he hesitated.
"I dunno, Rufus."
The naked mole rat looked up at him with unyielding eyes.
'Why have you kept it, then, if not for this moment?' was what Rufus' eyes seemed to say.
His fingers opened and closed, and finally Ron Stoppable reached out and pulled the drawer open. Actually, he pulled it out of the stand itself, emptied it onto his bed, and then pried open the false bottom. Then he removed from it a single piece of green stone.
The last fragment of the four jade monkey idols, which he had salvaged from Monkey Fist's manor all those years ago. The final piece of what had bestowed upon him the Mystical Monkey Power.
He held it in his hands, and looked at it, still unsure... and then he heard the sound of jet engines outside, and recognized the noise of a VTOL aircraft, and he placed the fragment and ronnunicator in pockets on his belt. Rufus scurried up to his shoulder and the two of them exited the room, and headed downstairs.
'Hang on, KP. The Ron-man is on the way.'
The ride, in this case, proved to be Mr. Dr. Possible, who had borrowed and was flying the hypersonic jet from the space center. Nana Possible stayed behind to keep an eye on the tweebs. Ron's parents wished him luck as he boarded the plane, and they stood arm-in-arm upon the driveway in order to see him off. For some reason none of this attracted attention, as if a just-barely-past-experimental-stage aircraft landing in the Stoppable's front yard was the single most natural thing on the planet. Of course, most of the neighbors, at least those who were still awake, had seen the broadcast and figured the plane had something to with that.
Aside from the formalities of goodbye and good luck there was no further preamble, for the plane took off just as soon as Ron and Mrs. Dr. Possible were on board and squared away. She was in the cockpit with Mr. Dr. Possible, while Ron was seated in the passenger area, alone in his thoughts. The infiltrations plans were already made, it would be a little while before the plane would arrive at the hideout, and Ron finally found a moment to just sit and think without some other crisis rearing its ugly head.
How, how, how in the world could he have thought that about Kim? He could have sworn that he had engraved in his head the concept that Kim would never... that she would never lock him in that closet again. He knew that, blast it all, he knew that and still he'd-
Still he'd doubted. Ever since she'd left, he finally realized, there had been this single, persistent, accursed doubt running in the back of his mind. That doubt had done little more than remind him of, well, of Mankey and Erik and everything they represented to him, and of Kim's penchant for falling head over heals for that type of man, to the loss of all reason, and the likelihood that she would find many such people while at college. He had spent the last few months shoving that doubt aside, feeling ashamed that he even felt it... until the photo had given it life, and the act at Bueno Nacho set it to saying "See? See? I was right!".
Now he cursed himself for even thinking it, as he realized that the Bueno Nacho and Club Banana incidents had been a scheme to separate the two of them, to make Kim vulnerable... and he'd fallen for it. Hook, line, and sinker he'd fallen for it, all because he hadn't had faith in her, hadn't had hope in their future, hadn't...
'No, stop right there, Stoppable,' he thought to himself. 'Enough. Whacking yourself upside the head like this ain't gonna solve a thing; it's over, it's done, and all you can do now is hope that she'll forgive you for doubting her like that. So get your brain in gear and get ready, 'cause now you're the one who has to come to the rescue. Then you'll be together again, wiser for the mistakes, and no power on earth can stop the two of you when you're together.
'After all, hadn't even Shego, of all people, said that, together, we're actually pretty solid?
'Wait, she never said that. Where did that come from?'
He shook his head and chalked it up to nerves. Either way, he knew he'd been a fool not to trust Kim. Now, he had to make it up to her. A last minute rescue would be a good way to do that (it had the advantage of rarity, and style), assuming he didn't die in the process. That, of course, turned his mind to the other thing he had to deal with, and he slowly removed the last jade monkey shard from one of his pockets.
He had never really liked the Mystical Monkey Power, and not just because of his deep-set Wannaweep induced fear of monkeys. He'd seen what just the desire for the Power had done to Lord Fiske, and if his further changes were any indication of what the Power itself could do to a person... then he didn't really want any part of that. Plus, the Power had been granted to him by four jade monkey idols, and that had unnerved him greatly; Rabbi Katz's teachings on idols had never been in uncertain terms, and the only reason why he'd used them in the first place was because he had no other choice, figuring that God would understand.
He had let the Power slide and fade over the years, and didn't involve himself in it, simply because of his aversion to it. Like all skills or abilities the Mystical Monkey Power needed to be practiced in order for the practitioner to maintain full use. For reasons already cited, Ron had never really embraced the Power, tried to make do without it (since he had Kim to lean on, this was rather easy), and let it wane. Indeed the only times it really came forth was in places that were rich in connection to the Power (such as Yamanouchi Japan), or times when something really, really ticked him off (such as when he was facing Erik atop Bueno Nacho headquarters).
So now he contemplated the last shard, knowing that now it was Kim who was depending on him to bail her out, and knowing that he simply wasn't up to the task on his own. Oh, he was ticked off enough, that was for sure, perhaps even more so that Bueno Nacho headquarters... but even then he hadn't been up to the synthodrone's level, and he figured that there was no way in the world Drakken and company would consent to taking a side trip to the natural reservoir in Yamanouchi.
But. Always a but.
The monkey idols hadn't just connected him to the Mystical Monkey Power, granting him improved flexibility, reflexes, and strength, they had also imparted to him the knowledge of the entirety of the monkey kung fu, as well as knowledge regarding the function of the idols themselves, if not of their history or source. That was how Ron knew to pocket a fragment of the idols even as he informed the British police that it would be best to simply destroy the remains: he knew, deep down, that the fragment, while unable to grant a new connection to the power, would be able to restore and revitalize a connection that had already been established. Such would be useful, in a pinch.
However, this time, there would be no chance for reservation on his part.
To open himself fully to such a power, the power that had, paradoxically, not only corrupted Montgomery Fiske but had also led to the creation of the Yamanouchi School... the thought terrified him. He'd seen what this power could do, and he did not want it, he didn't want to risk loosing himself to it as Fiske had done, but...
But if he did not risk that, then Kim would die, because he knew he wasn't the equal of what was holding her.
Voices, fragments of memory, came to his mind.
'There will always be light to cut through your fears.'
His grandfather, who had faced the loss of all he loved. He had also proclaimed that the things, people and all, that are loved are worth fighting for. Are worth risking all for. Are worth dying for. Love was the light, and the motivator.
'Why have you kept it, then, if not for this moment?'
The simple wisdom of Rufus. If not for this purpose, then for what, for when?
'Do you love my daughter?'
"With all I am," he whispered in answer to the last question, and clenched his fist around the shard. Then he relaxed his grip and held both hands out in front of him, side by side, with the shard resting in his palms.
He thought of the time in Fiske's manor, when the idols were activated by someone stepping into the middle of the formation that was based on sacred monkey geometry.
Nothing happened. Ritual was not enough.
He thought of Yamanouchi, and how strong in the Power that place was.
Again, nothing happened. Memory was not enough.
He thought of the first time that he'd been angry enough to kill, the time when they'd discovered Erik's true nature, and how the Power had enabled him to get in one good hit, and nearly hold his own, but not overcome in the fight.
Yet again, nothing happened. Anger was not enough.
He thought of Kim, of green eyes and red hair, of soft touches and a fiery heart, of all she was and all that she was to him, and of the fact that he loved her-
'With all I am.'
The stone began to glow, first yellow, then blue, and then a much brighter yellow, one that was almost white. He did not know what the color change signified, but he could feel what it was doing. The Mystical Monkey Power, from which he had long fled, coursed towards him and through him; this time he did not turn away, but faced the onslaught and in his mind he opened his arms to it without reservation.
It found him, and filled him; it terrified him, and part of him screamed to turn away, but the rest of him saw naught but green eyes, and for love of those eyes he refused to turn.
'You give of yourself freely?' he heard. The voice was like unto the stars; inscrutable, timeless, yet gentle and soft. Whether male or female, he could not tell.
'Yes. I'll admit I'm scared, but for her sake... I'd do anything.'
'That is good, favored one. Many have dared such risks in the name of love; this will protect you. Fear not, for this is the legacy of the Power.'
Then the light in his mind grew, and he saw no more for a long time, until once again he was aware of the interior of the aircraft. He looked down at the shard, and saw that it had crumbled into dust in his hands. He let the remains fall to the floor.
In that very hour, in Yamanouchi, the Lotus Blade sang for joy, its song the song of a sword drawn from its sheath. Of this none but Sensei took note, and he smiled in satisfaction.
In that very hour, seen by few, noted by none, the light from Venus, the morning star, waxed brightly, but only for the briefest of moments, and then it waned back to its former luminance.
In that very hour, for the cause of love, for the sake of his beloved, Ron Stoppable put his soul on the line and embraced the legacy of the Mystical Monkey Power, and was not consumed.
It had worked, he could feel it. The Mystical Monkey Power was there, in a greater degree than it had been before. Yet he was still Ron Stoppable; goofball, sidekick, beloved. That, despite his earlier fear, had not changed. In this he discovered the secret of the Mystical Monkey Power: Monty Fiske had not been corrupted by the power, rather, the power itself had been tainted by him, by the darkness of his selfish obsession.
Love protected him from that taint.
He let out a "Boo-yah", but restrained himself in volume, for he didn't want to attract the attention of the Drs. P.; what had just happened was something he wanted to think about for a good, long while before he even tried to explain it to them. Still, his cry awakened Rufus, who poked his head out of his pouch on Ron's belt (yet another of the Ron-specific functions of his battle suit). He looked at Ron for a moment, and slowly perceived what had happened.
"Did you see any of that too, buddy?"
Rufus shook his head in reply. This time, the power had been for Ron alone.
Shortly thereafter a red light came on in the compartment, and Mrs. Dr. Possible called out that they were nearing the jump zone. Ron felt the plane decelerate as Mr. Dr. Possible slowed from the hypersonic range into supersonic, then to transonic, and then finally to subsonic speeds. Ron removed the ronnunicator from one of the pockets and strapped it to his wrist. After that he grabbed one of the parachutes from the racks and buckled himself up in it.
Then he called Wade.
"Ron?" Wade asked, sounding somewhat worried. "You okay? The battle suit lets me monitor your biometrics, and everything went off the scales a few minutes ago: pulse, brain waves, body chemistry... everything. What just happened?"
"Mystical Monkey Power, buddy," Ron said, almost jovially. "Nothin' to worry about."
"Right..."
"Anyway, Mrs. Dr. P. says we're at the jump zone. Can you display the telementrawhozit from Kim's tracker onto the ronnunicator?"
"I can do one better," Wade replied as he hit a few keys. Suddenly the display changed, and no longer showed Wade, but showed what only could have been a three-dimensional map of Drakken's layer.
"Dude, how?"
"Redirected a GJ satellite and performed a mapping scan," Wade said, his voice now faceless. "Figured you could use some real-time intel. Now, for the good part."
A few more keyclicks, and then a single red dot appeared on the map. It looked to be in the upper story of the large, central tower. Ron stared at the dot, not so much mesmerized by the rhythm of its blinking, but in realization of what that dot represented.
Kim's heartbeat.
Then the red light in the room changed to green, and the jump door began to open. Ron grabbed a visored helmet and put it, with Rufus helping to tightly buckle the chin-straps. Rufus, for his part, then climbed back into the Rufus-pocket on the battle suit, and sealed himself in. Mrs. Dr. Possible came over the intercom again, and said that he was cleared to jump. Ron walked to the door, grabbed the frame, and leaned out into the night air.
"Ronald!"
It was Mr. Dr. Possible, standing in the doorway that connected the passenger room to the cockpit. He looked at Ron with a hard face and harder eyes, but they were not hard in the way they had been during the "black hole deep" talks. Their hardness was that of a blacksmith's hammer, which he uses to beat heated iron and steel until it is in the proper shape for a sword, and that of a grindstone, which he uses to the give the sword an edge.
Mr. Dr. Possible wished to grant Ron an edge, to forge him into a sword worthing of bringing home his daughter. Ron responded with a look of similar hardness, and of utter resolved, one like unto a sword already forged and ready for arts and acts of war.
"You bring home my little girl," Mr. Dr. Possible said, his voice as hard, and demanding, as his countenance. There was respect there, and further trust between men: he made the demand of Ron because he knew that Ron would be capable of fulfilling the request.
"Not to worry, Mr. Dr. P.," Ron responded confidently, with a brief smile and nod. That seemed to satisfy Mr. Dr. Possible, for his face softened, and he smiled and returned to the cockpit even as Ron turned back towards the whipping wind.
"I'm not leaving without her," Ron whispered to himself.
Then he faced the night sky, and felt the currents of the airflow across the body of the plane, and felt it grow turbulent within the open door. His hands shifted position so that they no longer rested on the interior of the bulkhead, but were instead wrapped around the frame of the door, with most of the fingers outside within the airflow itself. He took one final breath, and steeled himself.
The Ron Stoppable flung himself out into the darkness.
END CHAPTER 4