Love never fails; but if there are gifts of prophecy, they will be done away; if there are tongues, they will cease; if there is knowledge, it will be done away... But now faith, hope, love, abide these three; but the greatest of these is love. - 1 Corinthians 13:8, 13
Chapter 5: Reconciliation
Ron normally hated free fall. He really and truly did. The rushing sound of the air, the view of the ground as he rapidly fell towards it, the fact that he had just jumped out of a perfectly sound aircraft for no other reason than a perceived need to reach the ground faster... more often than not he wondered what on earth Kim saw in it. All the adrenaline rush did was to induce in him a feeling of stark terror.
But that was then, for this day Ron Stoppable at last understood the rationale behind free fall, and finally learned the very definition of haste. His arms were tucked in at his side, to maximize speed and minimize drag, and his legs were stretched out behind him, giving him a shape approximating a primitive airfoil.
Some things simply required all sense to be tossed away, and for one to simply act.
15. 14. 13.
He reveled in it, the speed, the mobility, the space and freedom from walls, the sensation of flight. Now the adrenaline brought no terror, just increased heart rate, rapid breathing, and the thrill of the plunge; with the rush came a flood of endorphines, which filled his blood and primed him to be ready, mentally and physically, for the fight to come.
What of that sudden change in reaction came from him, and what of it came from the Mystical Monkey Power, he did not know; indeed, he wasn't entirely sure how much a difference there was, now, between his abilities and the imparted capacity of the Power.
He didn't much care, either: to him, Kim was all that mattered.
He saw a single light piercing the night, and realized that it was the light from the tower where Kim was held. In seeing that light, he realized that he was a little bit off course, so Ron banked left and let the aerodynamic forces redirect him. Then he was on target again, heading just right of the solitary light in the mountain fortress. It would be an oblique approach, all the better to conceal himself from Drakken.
12. 11. 10.
For so long he had been the squire, the sidekick, the retainer; he was always the one following in the paladin's shadow, occasionally taking a mission himself only when he deemed that to do so would benefit her. That had always been alright by him; he'd never been one for the heroic aspirations, and was content always to hang in the background and aid Kim, as best he could. So long as they were together, he rarely cared who got the glory.
Now, as he soared through the darkness, he realized that he had come to the squire's graduation day, and it was time for him to become a knight of his own accord. He didn't exactly have shining armor, though the battle suit came close and was quite bright; he had no sword, though the art of Tai Shing Pek Kwar and the Mystical Monkey Power would suffice to forge him into a living sword; he had neither shield with guidon emblazoned thereupon, nor flowing banner to ripple in the wind, yet love would serve for both.
The ideals that they shared would be his banner, and the love of the red hair and green eyes, and the woman who bore them, would be his shield. Already it had protected him from the taint left in the Power, and Ron trusted that it would guard him in the fight to come.
Still, even as the knight of the lady Kim dropped through the dark like a cast stone, he wished to all heaven that it had taken something besides the past few weeks to bring him to that place.
9. 8. 7.
He would be alone, there was no help coming. Wade had informed him that most of GJ was currently occupied by various flash points that had ignited over the past three days. What few resources they had in range were currently occupied in Middleton, disabling and removing the nuclear device. It hadn't been a forty megaton device, but it was a functional nuke, though only in the six hundred kiloton range. That would have been enough, though, and Dr. Director did not want to take any chances that the device could still be activated.
A special response team had been sent, and was tasked with assaulting and capturing the hideout, but they would not arrive in time; it was already understood that their job would be cleanup, nothing more.
Halfway down, Ron spread his legs and arms, increasing his relative planform area, and thusly increasing the lift and drag forces. He would not stop falling, but he would slow, in preparation for the final move. At the same time, with naught but the command of a thought, the battle suit loosened around him, and its edges extended in small flaps. They became rigid at the border, and formed a two-inch wide membrane about him, becoming a tiny parachute which conformed to his outline. The flaps fluttered in the wind, and raised into arcs as they caught the air, and he slowed even more.
6. 5. 4.
He glanced at the ronnunicator on his wrist, and for a second just watched the blinking of the red dot.
She was below him, waiting. Again he felt the idiot, knowing that his actions were partially responsible for placing her there. But he pushed aside all thoughts of self-recrimination, for there was no time. He was nearly there, and she needed him.
3.
Ron banked once more, just to move away from the window, and then returned to level flight. He was trying for stealth, rather than the fastest possible approach, and as such he intended to make sure that he could not be seen from within the building.
Even so he was uncloaked, as he had a feeling that his arrival would need all the power the suit could provide, and Wade had warned him that the cloaking field would quickly drain the power supply.
2.
His hand went to the ripcord at his chest. He whispered her name.
1.
He pulled the cord, and his parachute deployed. In actuality it was a parasail, as black as the night sky above him, and was fully controllable. The dark sail billowed out behind him, and spread like the wings of some black angel of vengeance. His body jerked about as it was yanked upright, and the straps dug into his chest as the parasail endeavored to slow his descent. He noted and cared for these things not, save in how they affected his approach to the dark tower which held his love.
Such focus was heretofore unknown to him, save for those times that involved the Mystical Monkey Power, or a direct threat to Kim. Now both sitches were entwined within him, with the Power and the motivation working in full concert.
He grasped both control cords and then pulled down on the right hand one, causing the right edge of the sail to dip and bank him away from the tower. He returned to level flight when the approach was just oblique enough to where it would take him past the tower and away from the open window; these maneuvers were all to ensure that he would not be seen while on approach. A quick tug, down and back, on the control cords changed some of the lift force into thrust, allowing Ron to pick up just a bit more speed.
Then the windowless wall was to his left, he was even with it, and Ron yanked down hard on the left hand control cord. It was such a sharp bank that he seemed almost to pivot in the air, and for a moment he was nearly parallel to the ground, and then he was upright, and headed straight towards the wall, the sail again angled to give him speed as well as lift.
Ten feet away from the wall, he released the control cords.
Five feet away, he grabbed the lines which secured the parasail to the pack. These he held in two loose bunches, one in each hand.
Two feet away, he unsheathed the ferret claws and drew them across the lines, severing them, and allowing the parasail to float free. As he fell away from the sail his descent picked up speed, while he retained his forward momentum.
When he drew even with the wall he brought his hands up and around and grabbed for the tower, and the ferret claws dug deeply into the stonework. The muscles of his arms, shoulders, and chest, strained and stretched as they attempted to arrest his downward descent; large chunks of rock, and clouds of dust, fell upon his face as his claws dug deep furrows into the side of the tower.
Then, with a jerk that would have torn his arms from their sockets, save for the aid of the battle suit's augmentation and the the Mystical Monkey Power, Ron Stoppable came to a halt.
The jolt of his stop was such that his left hand came free, and for a time he simply hung there, solely supported by his right arm.
His fingers felt warm from friction, and he couldn't help but shudder a bit as he dangled there, dozens of feet above the ground. He brought his left hand up and unbuckled the straps which had secured the pack to him. The pack slipped off of him and fell to the ground below.
As was prudent, he refused to look down, but instead brought his left hand back up to the stone wall and began to work his way across the face of the tower, intent only on reaching the window that would allow him access into the interior.
Still, despite his focus, there was a part of him that reflected that it was a shame it wasn't storming, as it would have been really cool if his slide down the tower's face had been accentuated by lighting. Of course, that same part also decided that it was probably for the best, as any lighting would likely have fried him on the way down.
Traversing the sides of the tower was slow going; despite the claws it still took a great deal of force to get a proper grip on the stonework. The battle suit helped him to apply the necessary force, but it was the Mystical Monkey Power that would ensure his muscles were not overly fatigued. At last, though, he had traversed the distance from his "landing" point to the window.
The window itself was four feet wide and nearly five feet high, and the sill was constructed of some form of wood, likely oak. He reached up and grabbed the sill with both hands, commanded his suit to activate the cloaking field, and then Ron lifted himself up and climbed up on the sill, where he then sat on his haunches and surveyed the room.
The he realized quite belatedly that he needn't have worried with the covert approach.
Given the relative dimensions of the room to the window, and the angles involved, there was no way anyone could have seen him parachute in. Given that three of the people in the room, namely Drakken, Shego, and the kissing bandit, were looking at either the bound Kim or the death ray, he figured it was unlikely that they would see him in the window if he were uncloaked, either. Still, there was no need to take the risk, so he kept the cloaking field on.
Of course, while the angles were screwed up enough to where he was effectively under cover, they weren't screwed up enough to keep him from making an entrance.
First he removed the ronnunicator from his left wrist; which he'd strapped there just in case he needed the homing beacon to guide him to the target, and stowed it in its holster. Then he tapped the pocket that Rufus was in, and coaxed out the little naked mole rat.
"Okay, buddy," he whispered as he pulled out a few items from another pocket, "here's the plan. I need you to put these on, and then go and free Kim, okay? I'll deal with the ray gun thingy."
He'd handed Rufus a set of mole rat-sized climbing spikes, which Rufus quickly strapped to his feet, and a set of lock picks, which Rufus strapped to his back. The spikes, which worked on a similar principle to Ron's ferret claws, would allow Rufus to gain purchase on the stone walls, while the lock picks would let him unlock the binders that held Kim in place, assuming there were no convenient buttons for him to push.
"You ready, buddy?"
Rufus nodded, only slightly confused: he knew about the cloaking field, so Ron's voice, and various items, coming out of thin air didn't surprise him as much as it could have. Either way, he understood his mission perfectly.
"Great. Rufus... you know what she means to me, right?"
"Uh-huh," Rufus answered with a nod.
"Good. Stay in the shadows... but move quickly. Good luck, buddy."
Rufus nodded and scurried off, the spikes allowing him to run along the walls without falling. Ron turned away from the mole rat's path and surveyed the room once again. He was nearly in line with the death ray itself, which resembled a large, oblong egg, stuck atop a combination tripod mount and computer, with one large tube, which was surrounded by four smaller tubes and myriad wires and cables, coming out one end.
The room itself was lit, but only adequately so. The stone was a dark gray, and was covered in shadows. It was a dark and dismal place, intended not for comfort but rather to hold instruments of death, and to the be the place of their utilization, with a dank grimness designed to suck the hope from the unlucky souls who would find themselves in such a place.
Kim's battle suit, Ron noticed, was easily the brightest object in the room, there was so little light.
Drakken was standing at the control panel of the death ray, fiddling with something. Shego was to the left of the death ray, and was leaning against the same wall to which Kim was bound. The kissing bandit was to the right of the death ray, standing still, and seemed to be watching Kim with great eagerness.
And there was Kim herself; beautiful, radiant in her defiance, bound yet struggling against her captivity. For a brief moment he again felt the fool, but then something arose in his chest and drove away all thoughts of self-recrimination. He could feel silly later; now was the time for love to become courage, and the impulse towards gallant action. Reluctantly he turned his gaze away from her, and began to plan his attack.
Then Drakken let out a triumphant exclamation, and an ominous hum began to issue forth from the death ray. Then there was no more thought, no more contemplation, but only action, for Ron then leapt from his perch. Partways down he twisted in the air and aimed a wrist grapnel at one of the rafters, one that was almost directly above the death ray. It struck and held fast, and Ron became a pendulum, and he swung through the air and aimed his feet towards the death ray.
His feet connected with the barrel of the death ray even as it fired, and his momentum was such that the death ray was knocked off target, and its emerald beam struck hard stone rather than Kim Possible.
The ray continued to rotate in a wide arc, forcing Drakken to dive to his left to ensure that he would not be struck by it. Chucks of rock and great clouds of dust flew from the wall as the beam continued to pour forth its deadly energy, until at last the power cells were exhausted and the death ray fell silent.
Ron had severed the grappling cable as soon as the death ray stopped moving. He then began to fall to the floor, but managed to catch himself before he hit, and then performed a handspring which landed him directly on top of the barrel of the death ray. The Mystical Monkey Power gave him the balance to maintain that perch and not fall; so it was, then, that Ron at last stood erect upon the death ray, invisible and within a cloud of dust and smoke.
Then he deactivated the cloaking field.
The first to see him was Drakken, who was lying upon the dais and had been starring at the death ray in stupefaction, wondering just what exactly had happened. Then the blue doctor perceived a silhouette atop the barrel of the death ray, and the silhouette turned towards him as the dust cloud began to fade.
Even as his shape became clear, Ron Stoppable removed his helmet and showed his face unto his foes, and his expression was again as it had been that night atop Bueno Nacho headquarters. His mouth was set grim, like a harbinger of death; the look in his eyes was as cutting as the archangel's sword; and his hair lay strewn and messy upon his head.
Drakken's face took on a look of utter surprise and fear, and he began to scoot across the floor, away from the grim visage of his arch-foe's sidekick.
"You said he wouldn't be here!" Drakken yelled in a panic. "Now look what you've done! You've brought the serious face down upon us all!"
"Told ya so," came a smug voice from Ron's right.
It was Kim who spoke. She had initially turned her head, not away from the incoming green death, but rather away from the from torrent of dust and rock that had erupted just left of her head. She had realized that an invisible something had thrown the death ray off target, and though she did not see it with her head turned and eyes shut against the debris, she knew, in her heart, who it was.
Ron had come for her.
Just as she knew he would.
Then her eyes were opened, and they glittered up at him. Ron turned to face her, his face initially set serious, but it would not stay that way; the light in her eyes, and the gratitude and confidence that were found in the mischievous look of her smile, changed his face from grimness to a wide, bright grin. Even in that dark, dank place, whose every nook and cranny was designed to beat against the soul and drag it down in despair, even in that place the Ronshine could not be held back. For a moment their foes were forgotten, and they reveled and silently laughed at the joy of the sight of each other.
"SHEGO!" Drakken cried, his wits regained with the removal of the serious face. "Get him!"
The spell around them was broken, and Ron returned his mind to readiness.
"Oh, please," Shego replied, sounding very unconcerned. "Me, take on the sidekick? So not worth my time."
"SHEGO!"
"Look, Dr. D., just because you have "serious face" issues... never mind. All I have to do is push this button-"
She pressed a small alarm switch, and then the doors to the room opened and thirty synthodrones began to pour in. Ron briefly look at them, and noted that they were carrying the old stunner/blaster force staves. He also noted that, were he to try and dodge their blasts from his current perch, there was a good chance that the stray bolts would strike Kim.
"-and the buffoon will run off to cower," she continued dismissively. "Just like he always did."
Ron turned back to Kim, his face apologetic... and then he whirled and flung his helmet at the kissing bandit, who was attempting to sneak up on him as Ron studied the synthodrones. The helmet struck true, a good hit to the head, and knocked him to the floor.
Ron immediately went into a crouch and lashed out with his right hand, severing many of the wires and conduits on the upper area of the death ray's barrel; this elicited a cry from Drakken, who realized that Ron's actions had just disabled the death ray.
Then he leapt into the air, not away from the synthodrones, but towards them.
'Well, I guess I'll just hang around here, then,' Kim thought to herself as she watched Ron leap into battle. She had hoped that he would have released her first, but she recognized the strategic limitations of the situation even better than he did. Instead she redoubled her efforts to get loose from the bonds, knowing that it was futile, but also knowing that she had to try something.
She saw Ron land amongst the synthodrones.
She did not, however, notice that Drakken had begun to repair the death ray.
"Psst!"
She looked up, and saw a pink shape waving at her.
"Rufus!" Kim whispered excitedly. The naked mole rat was clinging to the wall, just above her hands.
"Hello!"
"Rufus, get me out of here," Kim said, still watching the unfolding battle. "I need to help Ron!"
He landed in a crouch, his left hand held forward for balance, and his right at his back, ready to draw and activate his bo. The synthodrones were older models, ones built more for power and aggression rather than finesse. Unlike the Erik model these didn't even look human, for instead of a face they had a gas-mask like structure: eyeless, emotionless, which would make them a lot harder to read. Still, the Mystical Monkey Power allowed him to infer from their movements that, while they were relatively skilled fighters, they were nothing special, and were operating off of a limited skill set, and would take time to react to something sudden.
They would be vulnerable to a blitzkrieg.
He also realized, without aid of the Power, that they were attempting to encircle him. The synthodrones were arranged in a partial ox-head formation, with nearly equal weight of foes at the head and both ends of the horns.
Ron decided not to give them the chance. In a single motion he both drew his bo and charged the center of the synthodrone formation. The bo he held grasped in his right hand and braced against the back of his right arm; his left hand was extended in front of him, the ferret claws unsheathed.
He leapt just in front of the first synthodrone and grasped its head with his left hand. The claws pierced the pseudo-skin, and green goo spurted from the holes as Ron drove his deflating adversary into the ground. As soon as Ron's feet hit the floor he struck again, this time using the bo to sweep the legs of the synthodrone to his right; after a quick turn and change of footing he thrust the bo, this time using both hands, to his left, and tore a hole in the synthodrone that was on that side. A downward smash kick with the heel of his right foot popped the fallen synthodrone.
This also caused him to slip on the pooled syntho-goo and fall to the floor.
This proved fortuitous, as several of the synthodrones on his flanks had taken aim at him with their blaster staves, and were in the process of firing when he fell. Thusly their shots took out four of the synthodrones, rather than taking out one Ron.
Ron quickly regained his footing and felled the last two synthodrones, that were in the middle formation at least, with a pair of quick jabs from his bo. Again he moved before his opponents could react, this time charging into what had been the left most (from Ron's perspective, but it was the actual right flank of their formation) horn of the ox formation.
Kim realized, suddenly, that she was staring, open mouthed, at the fight. She'd realized that something had been different about Ron; there had been a certain air about him when he'd stood upon the death ray, a certain seriousness backed up by barely concealed capability. Still, she hadn't expected him to chew through nine synthodrones that quickly. She'd never seen him fight that intensely before... or that well.
The synthodrones hadn't even had time to attack before Ron had dispatched them.
Even Rufus had stopped work on the locks, and was watching Ron with a stunned expression on his face.
"Okay, maybe I don't need to help Ron. Rufus?" Kim asked. "How did Ron get that..."
'Good?' she thought, but did not say.
"Monkey Power!" Rufus chattered.
"Monkey Power?" Kim said quietly, not fully believing it. "But I thought Ron hated the Mystical Monkey Power. So why... why would he..."
Rufus just shot her a pointed look and went back to trying to pick the lock.
"Oh," was all Kim said in reply.
She turned back to Ron, her expression more soft than shocked; she smiled at him appreciatively, and she felt her eyes water as her heart was moved and touched within her.
'Ron Stoppable... sometimes you are just too sweet for your own good...'
His plan had been to charge straight through the enemy's right flank, and then turn and reengage; this way he would have all of his foes in front of him, instead of being surrounded by them. However, the synthodrones showed that they did have at least some degree of adaptability and closed ranks, thusly denying him a passage through. Still, his six was partially covered, thanks again to the genius of Wade Load.
Kim had arranged to have Wade study the remains of Erik, specifically a sample of the syntho-goo and the limp rag of pseudo-skin. From that study Wade had developed an anti-synthodrone caltrop, one which would pierce pseudo-skin but not the hardier materials used in the battle suits. The caltrops functioned in similar manner to Ron's bo staff, except they had their own internal power supply based off of the kimmunicator's trilithium batteries. This meant that Wade was able to make the caltrops extremely small, and therefore could store a large number of them in the limited space available in the utility belts.
He had equipped their utility belts with a delivery system for the caltrops, which was driven by motions of the gluteal muscles, and Ron had activated his even as he charged the other group, and deployed nearly two dozen of the caltrops in his wake. Their power systems activated once they hit the ground, and each device deployed five one-inch long sharp spikes.
Five of the left flank of synthodrones deflated and collapsed as their feet were punctured by the tiny spikes.
By that time Ron was well upon the right flank. He feinted towards the lead synthodrone, in imitation of his first attack. The synthodrone bought it, and moved his stave upwards to protect his head. Ron instead dropped low and swept its legs with his own.
Quickly he returned to his stance, just in time to twist out of the way of another shot attack and engage the synthodrone to his right in a brief staff battle. Ron blocked a pair of blows, one aimed as his torso, the other at his head. Then a strike from Ron's bo snapped the stave in two, and then an upward swing tore a ragged gash in the synthodrone's head, one that was drawn from chin to crown.
Ron then leapt upon another synthodrone. With his left hand he opened a small hole on synthodrone's chest, and then quick as a wink he moved behind it, and pressed his arms and bo around the hole, which forced the goo out in a hard stream. This he directed at the approaching synthodrones from the left group, and the force of the stream was enough to knock them slightly backwards, and the slickness of the goo was enough to send them sliding off balance into the remaining caltrops.
He flung the emptied sack of pseudo-skin onto the synthodrone that he'd earlier knocked over, and then noticed that he was at last surrounded. But only partially so: the synthodrones were concentrated to his right and his rear, there was but one in front of him, and nothing but wall to his right. Still, he did not stand and ponder, nor did he quake in fear, for his purpose fed off of something stronger than his fear. He simply acted.
Ron flung his bo like a spear, and aimed it at the face of the synthodrone in front of him. It struck true and penetrated far; indeed the synthodrone's face was stretched inward, and the form of the bo extended out even the back of its head, in almost cartoonish fashion. Then the elastic pseudo-skin sprung back to it's original shape, and the bo was shot out of its head; even so the pseudo-skin of the face was pierced, and the synthodrone began to collapse as the syntho-goo slowly leaked out.
Ron was not idle during all this. Even as the bo impacted the head of the synthodrone, he'd already clawed another one, this time by sweeping its legs and then "catching" it with his clawed right hand. He flung the collapsing husk at another synthodrone (by coincidence, the one he'd already tripped up and then flung a previous pseudo-skin sack at).
Then Ron ducked the bo's return flight, and it sailed over his head and struck one of the synthodrones behind him. This one it did not pierce, for it had lost much of its kinetic energy in the impact with the other's head. Still, it was enough to knock the synthodrone back a piece.
He caught it out of the air after its rebound from the second synthodrone, which he then dispatched by spinning to face it and driving his left hand straight through its torso. Then there were only six left, all lined up in a row, and Ron charged through them with swinging bo and slashing claws, and he felled them like dominoes. They tried to fight, but as with all the others before them, not a single blow connected.
At last he was alone on the floor, and he took a moment to shake off the leftover syntho-goo.
Then he pumped a fist in the air and let out a great "Boo-yah!".
His celebration was cut short when Kim yelled for him to look out, and he barely dodged in time to avoid Shego's fist. He faced her down, bo held at ready, again held out behind him and to his side, braced against the back of his right arm.
"I gotta hand it to you, Stoppable," Shego said with a grin. "You've gotten a lot better. Still not in my league, I mean, but you did cut through thirty synthodrones just like that."
She punctuated the last statement by snapping her fingers.
"I mean," she continued with a laugh, "now I gotta deal with you. How did you get this good anyway? Never mind: don't know, don't care. All I know is, while you cut through the synthodrones pretty quickly, I've done it faster!"
At the statement of "faster" her hands blazed emerald and Shego launched to the attack. Ron, for the first time since he'd swooped in, found himself on the defensive, barely able to dodge or parry Shego's myriad kicks and punches, much less mount a counter-offensive. He made a valiant attempt, though, and was occasionally able to get in a kick or bo swipe.
More often than not, though, it was Shego's attacks that connected, though he managed to avoid a good number of them. Even with the fullness of the Mystical Monkey Power, which had enabled him to triumph against the synthodrones, the differences in training and experience between himself and Shego was simply too great. No sooner would he dodge a punch, or block one with his bo, than she would immediately follow up with a kick to his side, or a leg sweep, that would connect.
Not to say that she was completely owning him, of course; were Shego to be questioned about this battle, she would have little to say of it, though the look in her eyes would betray the fact that it was far closer than it looked.
Then Ron thought he saw an opening, and he thrust out with his bo, aiming the end for her stomach. But the opening was as ruse, and Shego twisted around his attack, and immediately delivered a full-on power kick to his sternum, a blow which knocked Ron several feet backwards. He skidded to a halt, his footing barely secure, just in time to see Shego leap into the air and come back down towards him, ready to hew him in twain with a glowing fist.
Ron changed his grip on the bo, so that his right hand was clasped around one end, his left hand was resting atop that same end, and the majority of the bo itself was extended behind him, and angled towards the ground. When Shego was almost upon him he drove the bo into the ground and then leapt away. This caused him to pivot like a pole-vaulter, the bo serving as a moment-arm which levered him into the air.
Still, he barely cleared the ground before Shego landed. She smote the floor with her blow, and the impact left a small crater and a cloud of dust. Even so she took no time to recover, but instead immediately leapt after Ron, her arc in the air a mirror of his own.
When Ron reached the apex of his move he shifted his hands again; now both hands were beneath him, his legs partially outstretched before him, as if he sat in a chair, and he balanced himself on the top of the now vertical bo. For a moment he sat there, the Power balancing him, and he appeared suspended as if by hands invisible. Then Shego drew even with him, and he lashed out with his right foot and struck her across the face. Then he pulled the bo out from under him, and pivoted in the air even as he fell, and with a great cry he swung the bo like a baseball bat and struck Shego in the side, and sent her careening to the ground. She landed in a heap.
He landed on his feat, and twirled the bo flashily as he brought it to a ready guard position.
"Still not in your league, Shego?" he taunted with a smirk.
"So. Not. Even. Close," Shego replied with a laugh, and then rolled to her feet and answered him with a flurry of plasma bolts. The first few shots impacted before Ron could engage his shield; as a result his bo was damaged and knocked out of his hands. Then the shield activated, though this left him immobilized, for Wade had not yet figured out how to allow motion within a full-body force field.
Shego pressed her advantage and charged him, still firing the emerald plasma even as she ran. Ron was forced by the shield to stay in place as she drew near, until at last Shego impacted and bowled him over. Ron quickly deactivated the shield (it had earlier been on emergency override, and would not respond to commands to shut down so long as there was incoming fire) and he and Shego grappled and wrestled for a moment. He tried to throw her off, or roll over, but she had him pinned to the floor, and denied him the leverage he needed.
Ron grasped her wrists, trying to hold her arms at bay; it was clear that she was trying to aim a plasma-enhanced blow for his head. He figured that would likely be fatal, and thusly wasn't something he wanted to allow. Still, she pressed hard, her lithe body able to deliver far more force than it appeared it could; besides, he was limited somewhat in his motions, as one of her knees was perilously close to his-
"Uh, Shego?" he grunted as they struggled. "Think you could move that knee? I might need those later..."
"No, I don't think you will," Shego replied with a grin, as her hands began to inch towards his head. "You got yourself one heck of a upgrade, Stoppable, I'll give you that... never thought getting to fight you would actually be fun. Too bad it's gotta end."
Shego adjusted the angle of her right arm, intending to simply bypass Ron's grip and smash his skull.
Then there was a blur of white and blue, and a flash of green and red, and then a knee was driven into Shego's side, and with a great cry she was knocked away from Ron.
A lithe angel then stood in front of him, her head crowned with flowing red hair, her body covered in glowing white, and accentuated with blue striping.
"Hands off the boyfriend, Shego," Kim ordered.
"Boyfriend, huh?" Shego moaned from where she lay. "That's not what I heard."
"Well, you heard wrong," Ron interjected from the ground.
Kim turned and fixed him with an affectionate smile. He grinned, somewhat sheepishly, back up at her.
"Hey Ron," she said happily. "Nice suit."
She held out a hand, and he took it, and allowed her to help him to his feet. He did not let go of her hand, and so they stood, hand in hand, their eyes focused only each other.
"Thanks, KP. Wade figured we should, you know, finally match. Or something."
"So I see," Kim replied, and looked Ron over, her eyes missing no detail. Then she smiled at him.
"You look dang sexy in that," she informed him. Ron felt his face go warm as he blushed furiously.
"Kim, please..." he protested. "Not in front of the arch-foes..."
She giggled a bit, and Ron finally released her hand, and brought his own up and tenderly caressed her face with his fingers. There was so much more that he wanted to say, and to do, but he knew there was little time. So he simply touched her, and let his fingers and eyes do the talking. He felt his heart begin to swell with the same feeling he'd had in the window, the same longing ache just for another moment with her. Something of this must have shown in his eyes, for he heard Kim whisper to him that it was all right, they were together again...
His eyes became misty, and he traced her jawline with his fingers.
Then his fingers reached her lips, and his face became dark and grim, and the mist in his eyes cleared, for his fingers had found the dried trail of blood from her split lip.
"Which one?" he asked. No longer was his voice light, and no more did his heart swell in pleasure at the sight and feel of her; now something dark and dangerous was arising in him, something native to all men, yet in his case fueled by the Mystical Monkey Power.
Someone had dared to strike her. That would not stand.
"Take a guess," she replied quietly, then directed his attention over his shoulder. "Speaking of such..."
Ron turned slightly, and saw that the kissing bandit had recovered from his earlier encounter with Ron's crash helmet, and was now moving in behind him.
"He have a name?" Ron said, turning back to Kim.
"Phillip Sparks," Kim replied. "Why?"
"Just figured I should know his name, 'fore I go all Monkey Power on him," Ron replied savagely. "You might want to look sharp too, KP. I think Shego's moving again."
Kim nodded.
"Just like usual, huh?"
"Hey, I may not be in her league," Ron replied, finally grinning again, "but I'll bet money that you are."
"Always the flatterer. You really know how to get a girl's heart going."
"I try," he replied with a wink. "Anyway, you deal with Shego... I'll handle pheromone-boy."
She raised an eyebrow at him. He shrugged his shoulders, and looked somewhat embarrassed.
"Your, uh, your mom told me... I woulda come anyway, you know..."
"I know," Kim replied quietly. "Kick his butt, Ron."
Then they both turned, and were arrayed back to back, each one facing their chosen foe: Ron to Sparks, Kim to Shego. Then they drew themselves into a fighting stance, their movements like unto the sound of the tuning of a symphony orchestra. For a moment, ere they faced their foes and began to play their own parts in that movement of the great music, they moved as one, each motion echoed by the other.
Then their parts began.
He could tell, just from the way that Sparks held himself, that the older had some training in the warrior arts... but nothing akin to the level of instruction that Shego had. Already Ron was anticipating what moves his opponent would make, as he used the evidences of stance and musculature to discern not just strength, but what motions Sparks was used to making, what kinds of attacks he had practiced for long hours.
Ron was beginning to think that he rather liked the Mystical Monkey Power now, and that it might just be a good idea to keep it practiced.
Sparks was dressed the same way he had been at Club Banana, all in black, save the dark blue shirt; the only difference was that he wore a pair of combat boots instead of dress shoes, and the strange lapel pin that he'd worn was there no longer. Ron watched, without comment, as he wisely shed the coat.
"I'll admit that I'm very surprised, Mr. Stoppable," Sparks began. "I didn't figure you'd come to fight for one as faithless as her."
"Dude, don't even start," Ron warned. "I know your tricks, boy; you ain't playing me like that again."
"Tricks? Mr. Stoppable, I'm not talking about tricks... I'm talking about human nature. Women like her will always be faithless to guys like us."
"See, now you're just talking crazy," Ron said, his grin feral.
"So I'm crazy now? Who was it that left her in the dark, Mr. Stoppable? You wouldn't have thought me so crazy then, I think."
Ron grinned no more, rather his face became a dark, expressionless mask, one which hid his inner turmoil. He had enabled all of this, just by the act of turning his back on Kim. Just by believing a lie, and letting his fears take hold, this person in front of him had been in a position to-
He had struck her.
He had drawn blood, Kim's blood. Not in a fight, or else there would have been other injuries, others signs of a struggle.
He had struck her. Gratuitously. Ordinarily, an enemy wouldn't have been able to. But this time, he was, for Kim had been rendered vulnerable. An opening, one quickly exploited by the enemy, had been created.
Because Ron had run. Because he'd seen this brigand steal a kiss (a kiss, of all things!), and had gotten scared.
But that was no excuse.
Already Sparks was charging him, having seen his words work their intended effect of distracting Ron and giving him an opening. He aimed a blow at Ron's head; it was accurate and sure, and not at all clumsy. Sparks even put his entire weight behind it, just to give it that much more force.
Ron barely moved, only leaning his head and shoulders enough to cause the blow to miss his right ear by bare millimeters. Then his right arm shot out, and his open palm smacked against Spark's forehead. The older man's attack was thus arrested, and he partially flipped over and flew backwards, until he landed flat on his back three feet away from Ron.
He quickly regained his feet. Then Sparks caught site of what he was facing.
No longer was Ron's face blank and expressionless, and no more did it sport any sort of grin; rather it was utterly serious, calm and collected, yet intrinsically wild and feral; the face of the Slayer, the face of Death. His fists were not clenched, for his claws were unsheathed and set ready to slash and flay, ready to fight tooth and claw as a beast, yet with the underlying intellect of a man. His stance fairly screamed its offensive intent, yet it left no opening for attack.
Had Ron considered it, he would have shuddered at just how much he looked like Shego at that moment.
Civility and savagery were fully entwined within him now, and Ron Stoppable wasted no further moments, but moved to attack as soon as his opponent was standing.
He intended to enjoy it.
Some would say that they were like water and oil, two substances that would never mix. That was a fair enough comparison, but it wasn't fully accurate. A better description would be to say that they were like an electron and a positron, two items of nearly identical spin and mass, but with different charges, and which would utterly annihilate each other on contact.
Given this comparison it was entirely natural, if somewhat anticlimactic, that Kim Possible and Shego would wind up in a fight at every encounter. Indeed, as with the electron and positron, they were nearly identical: young, female, exceedingly fair, highly skilled, utter unwilling to admit defeat, and they were alike in ways that not even they knew. Yet, as with the electron and position, they were dark images of each other, possessed of opposite charges.
One given to good, one given to evil.
Since the one was good, of course, she let her opponent take a moment to steady herself. It was only sporting of her, after all. Shego, of course, felt no such constraints, and began her attack with a flurry of plasma shots.
Kim reformed the right hand of her battle suit into a xistera glove (or cesta-punta, the wicker glove used in jai alai) and caught the first shot. She twisted out of the way of the second and third shots, and then launched the captured shot on a collision course with the fourth shot. They annihilated each other in a flash of light and smoke.
Through that flash and cloud came Shego, aiming a flying kick at Kim's head. Kim ducked to the side and attempted to strike Shego in the back with her left arm. Shego blocked with her own left, and then she twisted slightly as her feet struck the ground, and she keep her arm pressed against Kim's. They struggled there for a bit in a test of will and strength, with Shego's plasma sparking against the point-shields of Kim's battle suit.
"Ya know," Shego grunted, "I still can't believe that you went from our best synthodrone to the sidekick."
"I only wish I'd skipped the synthodrone in the first place," Kim grunted in reply. "Ron's a much better catch."
"Oh really? I guess you never tried Erik out, then."
"What?"
"C'mon, Princess," Shego said with a leer, "who do you think took him out for a test drive?"
"And this is supposed to bother me why?" Kim growled. Then she simply stopped pushing, and let herself fall backwards. This caught Shego off balance, causing the dark haired woman, who was still using both her legs and upper body to push against Kim, to fall with her.
Shego let out a yelp of surprise, and Kim planted her left foot in her stomach and pushed up, causing Shego to flip head over heals past her. Shego's skills didn't fail her, though, for she was able to catch herself by digging her claws into the floor. She came to a stop within striking distance of Kim, who had sprung to her feet with her back to Shego.
Shego pivoted about her wrists and swung her legs in a wide arc, with the intent to sweep Kim's legs out from under her. Her movements were betrayed, however, by a grunt of exertion that she let out. Kim heard the grunt and acted instinctively; she executed a perfect blind back flip over Shego's attack and landed on her hands. Both combatants flipped and rose to their feet at the same time, and neither wasted a moment before returning to the fray.
Their attacks consisted of a rapid series of punches and kicks, each blow either blocked or parried by the other, each defensive move followed by a quick riposte.
"You know, Shego, I'm surprised," Kim said nonchalantly, as she dodged a blow aimed for her head.
"'Bout what?" Shego replied, as she twisted away from Kim's right-left counter blow.
"Never figured - oof - you and Drakken for the sort that would play second fiddle," Kim continued, catching a kick in the ribs mid-sentence. "I mean, sure it's all Drakken's stuff... but someone else making the plan, someone else breaking the two of your out of prison? Let's face it, Shego: whoever Sparks works for has the two of you so outclassed."
"Don't worry about us, Princess," Shego said as she dodged another attack. "If Sparks and friends try to cause us trouble, I'll take care of them... just like I'll take care of you."
Shego punched at Kim's head again; this time Kim didn't dodge the blow, she simply caught and held it.
"That's just it, Shego... you can't handle me; he had to do that for you," Kim said smugly. Then she threw Shego's hand aside and jumped back a pace. The taunt had the intended effect, for Shego roared in anger and dived at Kim, her claws out, and her left arm swinging in a glowing swipe aimed for Kim's head.
Kim ducked and tumbled beneath the wide blow, and came up in a crouch behind her. She then jutted out her left leg and spun, and swept Shego's legs out from under her. When Kim had completed a ninety-degree rotation she stopped, drew her leg back in, and then leapt up into the air even as Shego fell. As she leapt she brought her right knee up, and slammed it into the back of Shego's head with a resounding clack.
Shego's head snapped forward, and her chin touched her chest. She fell to the ground with a mighty crash, and her head snapped back and collided with the floor with a sickening thud.
She would move no more that night.
"What'd I tell you?" Kim said triumphantly.
She looked to Ron, to see how his fight was going. Then she felt it again, as she had in Bueno Nacho, and in Club Banana; and there was the voice of Phillip Sparks, commanding her to remain in place.
The artificially handsome face of Phillip Sparks had been marred. Five red lines, connected by rivulets of flowing blood, crossed one side of his face. The wounds were shallow, for Ron hadn't put much force behind the swipe, just enough to break the skin. Several other cuts criss-crossed Sparks' arms and legs, each a mark that Ron had left upon him, each in payment for the mark that he had left upon Kim Possible.
For every blow that Sparks tried to deliver, Ron would reply with two, often a punch-claw combination; each of these would connect and strike true, while Sparks could not even touch Ron. Yet Ron's attacks were not as strong as they could have been; indeed, despite Sparks' fitness, and ability to take a hit and keep on moving, Ron knew that he could have easily felled his opponent in no more than three moves.
He could have.
He chose not to.
That would have ended the fight far too quickly for his liking. He wanted to make Sparks hurt for this, and a hundred relatively light hits would hurt him far, far more than three all-out blows would. Then of course, he would end the hurt... forever.
So Ron prolonged the fight.
This was very foolish of him.
Even though held back in the intensity of his blows, the ferocity and anger that he felt was still written upon his face, and was evident in his eyes.
"You're angry," Sparks observed as he took another punch to the abdomen.
"Dude, ya think? After what you did..."
"After what I did? Mr. Stoppable, I was trying to do you a favor-"
He was cut off by a punch to his jaw.
"A favor? A favor?" Ron growled. "Stealing a kiss from Kim, hitting her, brain-warping her with those pheromones of yours, making me think- you call that 'doing me a favor'?"
Ron grabbed Sparks by the collar of his shirt, and held his left hand poised to strike.
"You're not mad a me, Mr. Stoppable," Sparks said, far too calmly for his situation.
"Oh yeah? Then who am I mad at?"
"You're mad at yourself."
Ron release Sparks, and flinched backwards as if he'd been hit. He stood there for a moment, as if stunned.
"You're mad at yourself," Sparks continued, "for having left her there at Bueno Nacho, for having believed every little trick that I threw at you. You said I made you... not I didn't, Mr. Stoppable, and you know it as well as I.
"I can't make you do anything. You acted as you did because you chose to believe my illusions, because deep down you know, that even though what you saw was a lie, you know that what you saw is inevitable; that in end, she'll leave you.
"Because the two you never loved each other in the first place."
Then Sparks knocked Ron over with a blow to the head. Ron sputtered a bit as he lay dazed upon the floor, until he heard Sparks talking again.
"Love doesn't exist, Mr. Stoppable, there's only the chemical, animal draw that I wield. I just showed you what was naturally going to happen, what had happened to you before... what happened to me..."
"Hand on just sec," Ron grumbled at the last. Sparks' voice had gone slightly quiet as he said those last four words.
"You mean to tell me," Ron said, comprehension dawning as he slowly stood to his feet, "that you did this, all of this, just because you have issues?"
"You can't even begin to understand my motivations, Mr. Stoppable."
"Do you know what they used to say about us, back in High School?" Ron said quietly, almost as if he was ignoring Sparks. "A lot of folks said that we wouldn't last a week. Do you know what they concluded, in the end?"
Then Ron looked at Sparks, and for the first time the older man comprehended Drakken's fear of the serious face.
"They figured that we were well nigh in love," Ron said quietly, "and woe betide anyone who tried to get between us."
Sparks sensed his peril and did not wait. He immediately flew to the attack and launched an epic punch at Ron's nose.
Ron caught it with his right hand, bare centimeters away from its target, and his arm absorbed the impact without moving so much as a millimeter. They stood there for a bit, Sparks' arm twitching under the strain, and Ron's motionless, until Ron began to push against Sparks, who found his own arm moving towards him, and himself slowly shoved towards the stone wall.
"Yeah, I was an idiot," Ron said as he continued to push. "I should have trusted her more. Hey, I'm Ron Stoppable: acting without thinking is my trademark. But dude, you tried to break us up just 'cause some chick dumped you. That took some intent, you know what I'm saying? Intent that my stupidity can't excuse."
They were at the wall, and Ron held Sparks' against it.
"Now for the woe," Ron growled, as he drew his left fist back. Somehow he knew just where to hit, and how hard, to collapse Sparks' skull and drive portions of it into his brain. The earlier desire to cause Sparks pain had fled, now, he just wanted to kill the man.
"You are missing two things, Mr. Stoppable," Sparks said, again sound far, far too calm, and unnervingly smug.
"Huh?" Ron said, temporarily halting his strike.
"One: Drakken can repair his death ray."
'Oh sh-'
"Two," Sparks said with smile. "My pheromones have range.
"Ms. Possible," he called past Ron's shoulder, "I want you to stay there, please."
All thoughts of death fled from him as Ron turned away from Sparks and looked to see Kim, his Kim, just standing there in the middle of the room, the same look on her face as she'd had at Bueno Nacho. He saw Drakken make one last connection on the barrel assembly, and then move to the controls.
He could see Rufus moving as fast as possible towards the power cord, but somehow he knew that the naked mole rat would not be fast enough.
Ron released Sparks, his old vendetta forgotten, and he turned to run to Kim's aid.
"KP!" he yelled as he started to run. "Move, get out of there!"
Then a pair of arms grabbed him from behind, and looped up under and around his arms, and held him in place. He struggled, trying to get free.
"Dude, what is your problem?" Ron growled.
"KP! For God's sakes, move it!" he cried, not awaiting an answer from Sparks.
"Has to be done, Mr. Stoppable," Sparks said, sounding almost apologetic. "I didn't want to do it right in front of you, but you've forced my hand in this. Still, this way, you lose her, but you get to keep your illusions about love."
Ron relaxed, for a half second, and focused the Mystical Monkey Power on the tendons and muscles around his right knee. He would get one shot, and he would need to be able to run afterwards.
"Dude, you're still going on about that 'love doesn't exist' garbage?" Ron said quietly. "Then take a good look, Sparks..."
Ron rotated his right knee, with a greater speed than that joint was designed for, and swung his right foot up behind him, so that it crushed Sparks' genitals against his backside.
Sparks released him with a huff of pain. Ron whirled and felled him with a haymaker to the jaw. Then he ran towards Kim, faster than he had ever run in his life, for the desperation of love moved him.
"...'Cause you're about to see what love really looks like."
It was as if a fog had descended around her, a fog that blocked out everything else. She could not see through it, and it clouded her mind so that she could not comprehend anything save through the filters of the pheromones. She saw Drakken working on the death ray, recharging it and aiming it towards her, but her mind did not perceive the danger.
All that was there was the haze of the pheromones, and the command of Phillip Sparks.
Yet, still a part of her resisted, and gained internal voice.
'Move, Possible.'
'But... but he told me stay here... maybe he'll be with me if I stay here...'
'That's the pheromones talking, you silly girl.'
'Pheromones?'
'Yes, pheromones. Remember, the chemicals he uses to make you think you 'love' him, to make you forget Ron?'
"KP! Move, get out of there!"
'Ron...'
'Yes, Ron. The man who's been by your side since you were little? The man who's saved you on more than one occasion, including this one? The man you really love.'
'But, Phillip...'
'Is false.'
"KP! For God's sakes, move it!"
'That voice...'
'That voice is RON, you stupid, silly girl. This is all a trick, what you feel isn't real. Sparks is trying to keep us here, so Drakken can kill us. Now wake up and move, before Drakken gets the death ray on target!'
'But...'
'Listen to Ron. Picture him. Remember the man you love.'
'Ron...'
Blond hair.
'Ron.'
Brown eyes.
'RON!'
A heart worth more than the treasures of a thousand kings, which was given to her, and to her alone.
In that moment Kim cut through the fog, and it stymied her no more. It was still there, an oppressive force at the back of her mind, yet it would no longer affect her; the magic had lost its power when she learned it's nature. Indeed, it was as if she had stuck her head through the border of a fog bank, and could finally perceive her surroundings without interference.
Some things, as Dr. Greg had said, were indeed far stronger than basic chemistry.
What she saw was Drakken's grin of triumph as he pressed the firing stud on the controls. For the second time that night a green light issued forth from the barrel of the death ray, and for the second time it carried it's issuance of death towards Kim Possible.
She froze, and stared on in fear. Then, there came to her a noise.
What she heard, above the whine of the power supplies and and the buzz of capacitors and transformers, was the sound of running feet. Then a white and blue figure, crowned with golden hair, interposed himself between Kim Possible and the death ray.
For the second time that night, the beam was interrupted by Ron Stoppable.
He had brought his shield up just before the impact of the beam, but it failed after just a few brief moments, and then there was nothing between him and death ray. It caught him full in the chest, but he did not allow himself to be moved. Instead he had brought his arms up, in a cruciform pose, so he could catch as much of the beam as possible.
Green fire coruscated around and over him; it criss-crossed his back; it flowed over his shaking arms; it caused his hair to stand on end. Pain, unlike anything he had ever felt before, filled him, and his entire body shook from the agony of it. The ferret claws began to extend and retract at random, as the energy of the death ray began overloaded the battle suit.
His arms came down, and he clutched them to his chest, as he fought simply to keep standing.
Then his back arched, his arms fell to his sides, and an anguished scream issued forth from his mouth, one which was heretofore only known in the deepest portions of the torments of Hades.
Suddenly the scream was stilled, and Ron fell silent as the beam shut down. There was no longer strength in his legs, nor power in his body, and his body brushed against Kim as he fell, lifeless, to the floor.
She had only been able to watch. At first she had flinched and turned away, for the impact of the death ray against the shield had produced a bright light, one that she could not stand to look at. Then it faded, and all she could do was watch as the green fire slew her Ron.
Then the fog fully lifted, and troubled her no more.
He fell against her, and she was too shocked to catch him. She felt him slip past her, his head and shoulder brushing against her chest and arms, and then she heard his body hit the floor with a boom. She looked down, and saw this eyes were wide open and starring, and his face was frozen and contorted in agony. Steam issued from his mouth, off of his skin, and from the rivers of tears that criss-crossed his cheeks.
There was a smell, too, one that was similar to the last time she had tried to cook something.
Even Rufus, who had been racing towards the wall to unplug the death ray, but had not quite been fast enough, could only stand and stare. The valiant naked mole rat hung his head in shame and sorrow.
Then Kim's mind caught up with her eyes.
"Ron..." she sobbed, and knelt, and reached a tremulous hand towards his face. Even through the suit she could feel the warmth of his skin, though it strangely was not discolored. A wordless sob escaped her as she stroked his hair and grabbed shoulders.
"Ron, please... you can't..." she whispered as she shook him.
A scream built itself in her chest, and began to work its way towards her mouth... but it was cut off, and died at her throat, by the sound of a cold laugh.
"So that's it, then," Drakken crowed from his place at the controls. "It's just you and me, Kim Possible. No more sidekicks to shield you, no more partners, no more tricks... and I have the death ray!"
"Drakken..." Kim growled, and rose to her feet, and stepped over Ron, and placed herself between the death ray and his body. For the first time in her life she did not care if she lived or died, all that she wanted was to be able, before death came, to take Drakken with her.
For his part, Drakken was too busy exulting to realize his true peril. Indeed, a serious and angry Kim Possible was something that he was already quite used to; as such, it did elicit from him the same brand of terror that Ron's serious face did.
"Aw, how sweet, angry for the fallen lover," Drakken sneered. "Don't worry, Kim Possible: just as soon as the batteries recharge, I will use this death ray to send you to join him! BWA-HA-HA-HA-huh-wha?"
Kim did not know what had made him stop. For a moment she thought it was the fact that she was poised to leap towards him and remove his entrails with her bare hands. Then she realized that he was looking past her... and that she could feel something around her foot. She turned to look.
There was a hand.
Ron's hand.
Tightly grasping her ankle.
His eyes were closed and his mouth was shut, though pain was still graven upon his features. His breaths were deep and shuddering, as even that life-sustaining gesture wracked him with new pain. Even so she watch as the arm which grabbed her twitched, and Ron Stoppable began to pull himself across the ground.
He went as far as that could take him, and then he reached out with his left arm and clung to the ground, and began to drag himself forward again. Each movement was accompanied by little whimpers of pain, yet he gritted his teeth against it, and shut his eyes against the summoned tears. He moved as far as the left arm would take him, and then he reached out again with his right arm, and slowly he repeated that process until he was once again between Kim and Drakken.
A faint, very faint, blue glow surrounded him.
Then he drew both arms towards his head, balled his fists, and pressed them against the hard floor. With a groan that escaped even through his gritted teeth he then began to draw his legs forward, a single inch at a time, until they were bent beneath him, then he raised himself up on his arms, until he rested upon his hands and knees.
Ron paused for a moment in order to catch his breath and build his strength. Sweat and tears, and a little bit of blood, poured from his body, and puddled on the floor beneath him.
The blue glow began to intensify.
He drew his right leg up under him, until the knee pointed forward and his right foot was planted on the ground. From that base he stood up, with a great moan and many grunts of anguish, until at last he was on his feet, though not yet at his full height: his back was arched forward, his shoulders were slumped, and his head hung down. He stood that way, for a moment, and slowly caught his breath.
"The way... to Kim Possible..." he said slowly and in between breaths, and his voice shook with each syllable.
Then he drew himself to his full height; his back was straight, his shoulders slumped no more; his head was held high, and proud, and defiant; and the blue glow flared to a final brightness and then dissipated.
"Is. Through. Me," he finished, his voice enraged, and full of tears and pain and a steady determination. He stood there, in spite of death, for he had been moved.
Love had moved him to run to Kim, and throw himself before the fire.
Love had moved him to stand.
Love moved him to live.
Then his fists were clenched, and he arrayed them at his side as if for war; and his eyes opened, and he turned his countenance towards Dr. Drakken.
Drakken recoiled from the horror of the eyes, from the terrible gaze of that face, and he stumbled and fell away from the controls in jelly-legged terror.
This was not the serious face.
This was worse.
This was as if all the armies of Heaven and all the legions of Hell had put aside their ancient feud, joined forces, were coming after Drakken himself, and their portal into this mortal realm was through the eyes of Ron Stoppable.
In an abstract, detached portion of his mind, Drakken was suddenly very glad that he hadn't had much to eat that day.
He was struck dumb, and nerveless, and stood there frozen until his attention was grabbed a whistle from the death ray. He turned his head to look, and there sat a very serious looking naked mole rat.
"Eff you," Rufus squeaked, and then he used the controls to swing the death ray around and clobber Drakken upside the head.
Ron watched Drakken fall, and then he let his legs go slack and allowed himself to fall backwards. This time, though, Kim was there to catch him. This she did, and she propped him up, and held him tight, wrapping her arms around his chest and burying her face in his hair.
"Ron, oh Ron," she gasped, unsure if she should cry or laugh, and ultimately choosing to do a combination of both. "I thought you'd..."
"Hey, don't you know, KP," Ron said quietly, with a pained laugh, as he reached one hand up and clasped it to one of her own, "that 'love is as strong as death'?
"Still," he continued, his voice clearly pained, "I don't recommend testing that..."
She did laugh, finally, and she caressed him with her free hand. Then they heard a groan from their left, and they turned their heads, and watched as Sparks was trying to pick himself up from the ground. They looked at each other for a moment.
"Can you stand?" Kim whispered.
"I... I think so."
"Okay," she said, and let him go, but not without slowly drawing her fingers across his chest and shoulders. "I'll be back in a second, gotta take care of something."
She turned and walked over to where Sparks was lying on his hands and knees.
"Just in case you didn't notice, Romeo," she said lightly as he looked up at her, "there's a lot more to love than that chemistry garbage of yours. Now, I'm sorry you never found that..."
She reached down, and picked him up by the collar of his shirt. He was too weak to protest.
"But that's really no excuse."
Then she punched him into a wall. She turned to look at Ron, who smiled at her weakly and raised a shaking hand in a thumbs up gesture.
"Boo-yah," he whispered, and then his face changed, and he looked as if he was about to throw up, but an issuance of blood came from his mouth rather than vomit, and Ron began to fall. She ran to him, and caught him, but he could not stand any longer, so she knelt, and gently cradled his head in her lap; she held him in place with her right hand, and stroked his hair with her left. His eyes were closed.
"Ron," she said desperately, "please hold on, Ron, please... I love you, please..."
"KP," he croaked, and opened his eyes and looked up at her. "KP... I'm sorry... forgive me..."
"Ron Stoppable, if you are about to apologize for dying, then so help me-"
"No," he said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry... for how I acted."
"Ron, it's-"
"No, KP, I shoulda had more faith in you! It's just... I saw that picture... and Bueno Nacho, and... and I got scared that you were going to lock me in that closet again so you could dance with Mankey, that you'd leave my treehouse again so you could talk with Erik, and... that you wouldn't be here anymore, and I'd be without you, and... Kim, I'm so very, very sorry... please, forgive me..."
He was crying; so was she, and when her tears fell they mingled upon his lips.
"Ron..." she began, "let me tell you something... that girl, the one who locked you in that closet, the one who didn't think you were boyfriend material, the one who left you to chase 'the perfect guy'? She's dead, Ron. She died that night in Bueno Nacho Headquarters, when what she thought was perfect turned out to be a lie, and then turned on her. There's just me, now: Kim Possible, the girl who can do anything.
"Even, especially, love a sweet little goofball like you," she said, and smiled through her tears. "So yes, Ron, I forgive you. I'll always forgive you, no matter what you do.. and I'll always love you, no matter what."
Ron smiled, and looked up at her with shining eyes. Hers shined back at him, their glitter only enhanced by their tears.
"So," she continued with a sniff, "can you forgive me?"
"For what?" he asked, quizzically.
"For locking you in that closet in the first place, for all the times I tried to deny the fact that you were the best man I've ever met."
For a moment he was about to protest, but then he smiled, and nodded, and tried to reach up and touch her face, but found that had had not the strength for it. So he reach up and grasped her right hand with his own, and gave it a weak little squeeze.
"Water under the bridge, KP," he whispered, and so it was. Suddenly the air around them was clear of something that they hadn't even known was there. They would never speak of such things again.
"I'm kinda tired, KP," Ron said after a moment. He tried to smile at her, but it didn't really work, for his teeth were stained red with blood, and his face was still twisted from the pain. Still, he was so very comfortable there, her lap was so soft, and restive, and he was so very tired, that he let his head roll to one side, and he let his eyes close.
"No, Ron, you have to stay awake..."
"Nah, I think I'll take a nap," he said sleepily. "You gonna be here when I wake up, KP?"
"You bet," she said quietly, her voice tremulous.
"Coolio," he whispered, and surrendered to sleep.
She did not know how long it was that she knelt there like that, with Ron asleep in her lap, and she continued to stroke his hair and beg him to hold on, to stay alive. It could have been minutes, or seconds, or even days. All she knew was that after a time there came a sudden rush of noise and dust, and then one of the walls simply wasn't there any more, and the front third of a hypersonic jet was settling itself into the gap.
She clung to Ron as she heard the sound of someone rushing towards her, and the sound of another moving about the room. The one coming towards her, she realized dimly, was her mother, who had a small medical kit out and was checking Ron's vitals and asking her what had happened. The other sound, her mind told her, was that of her father, binding the three unconscious foes with flexi-cuffs.
Then her mother tried to pick Ron up, and was explaining that they needed to get him onto the jet and to a hospital, but Kim refused to let him go, and instead clung even tighter. Then she felt a hand rest on her shoulder.
"Kimmie-cub," her father said quietly. "It's okay, it's going to be okay."
"Daddy?"
"Yes. Don't worry, Kimmie-cub," he said, as he gently slid her arm off of Ron and slid his own up under the young man. "He's going to be all right."
This snapped Kim out of it, and she allowed her father to pick Ron up.
"Hang on, Ronald," James Timothy Possible whispered as he carried Ron to the ship, "I've got you, son. I've got you."
They arrived at Middleton Hospital a half-hour later, and Ron was quickly wheeled into emergency surgery. Wade and the Stoppables (Nana was at the house, watching the tweebs) met Kim and the Possibles in the waiting area, where Wade explained that it had been he, having seen the data feed from Ron's suit simply stop, and the feed from Kim's show signs of extreme stress, had directed the Possibles to make their entrance. At least, he tried to explain that, but Kim simply hugged him before he could finish, and Wade quickly shut up and returned the hug, and said no more.
There wasn't much left to say.
The same was repeated with Ron's parents, except that Kim made it a point to explain to them that, whatever happened, Ron had acted to save her, and that he had behaved himself like a hero should.
Rufus, for his part, had not left Kim's shoulder since they'd boarded the plane.
Then there were no more words left, and all they could do was wait. For hours they sat, and paced, and worried, and prayed, until at last, well after two in the morning, the doctor who had been working on Ron opened the door and came in. Kim stood and looked at him, barely able to hope.
He was smiling.
"It took a bit of work," he said, "but he's going to make it."
Noise. Cheers. There came an eruption of joy and hugging which filled the whole room, and caught up all present, save the doctor... and Kim.
Kim stood still, in the middle of it all, utterly unmoving and nonreactive save for the rivers of tears that flowed down her cheeks. The fear that built within her was suddenly replaced by a relief and a joy so powerful and profound that it physically hurt, and could only find release in simple, quiet tears of joy. Then her mother was behind her, and she wrapped an arm around Kim's shoulder, and Kim grasped at her hand, and finally her heart found expression.
There are no words that can be ascribed to the cry that Kim uttered that day; it simply was, and expressed a joy that man's tongues cannot even begin to tell.
"Can... can I see him?" she asked, after a time had passed. The doctor nodded, and led them all to the room where Ron was resting. He lay there upon a bed, his face peaceful, the sheets drawn up to his chest, which rose and fell with his steady breath. An IV dripped fluids into his bloodstream.
There was a single chair to the right of the bed, and Kim walked over and took it, and brought it to his side. She sat there and then took his right hand in her own, and silently stroked his hair and face with her left.
After a time, the doctor cleared his throat.
"I hate to say this," he began, "but it's well past visiting hours, and-"
Kim looked at him, her eyes neutral, and she raised her left hand away from Ron and towards the doctor, and then she formed the arm into something large, blunt, and quite clearly medieval.
"Go ahead," she said quietly. "Move me. I dare you."
"-and I'll just go and get the rest of you some chairs, then?" the doctor amended, not missing a beat.
"Yeah," Mr. Dr. Possible replied. "That'd be great..."
Morning came, and with it the warmth of the sun. The heat of the orange light, as it cascaded upon her red hair, stirred her to awake. Her left left arm was curled up on the bed beside her beloved, and she was bent over and resting her head upon it. She figured that she'd been like that for a few hours, at least, but couldn't say for sure, as she had no clue when she'd fallen asleep.
There was something else, though, something besides the sun that had stirred her. In fact, it felt like something moving up and down the fingers of her right hand...
She was fully awake then, and raised her head up, and saw a pair of large, tired brown eyes staring at her, their gaze full of love.
"Mornin', KP," he whispered. "That can't be good for your posture."
"RON!" she cried, and flung himself upon him. As best she could she wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly; as best he could he placed his arms around her, and rubbed her back and stroked her hair.
"KP..."
"Ron," she whispered to him, "I'm here."
His hands stopped moving, and he gently tightened his hug and pressed her to him. She felt his cheek stretch as he smiled, and then he replied to her with five words of assurance.
"I knew you would be."
END CHAPTER 5
THE END
SDG
Author's notes:
Well, that's it. Sorry this one took so long, but I managed to stump myself at a couple of points in the writing, and it took a while to work past that. I also apologize for the length.
With that being said, I'd like to thank campy, JMAN2.0, MrDrP, surforst, Taechunsa, G-go, Willk1989, Brimmstone, Classic Cowboy, JPMod, Dillymac, K-R-4-E-V-A, Jawelik, little-n-lost, RamaFan, aimtbj, jasminevr, and mattb3671 for reading and reviewing. I wish I could give responses to all of your comments (and/or discussion points) here, but I am running somewhat out of space. However, there is one I'd like to address...
Surforst - The answer to your question about my use of Venus is "none of the above". There is a meaning behind it, it wasn't just gratuitous imagery, but what it means is not something that I am prepared to reveal right now. All will be explained in time, though.
Anyway, while y'all are at it... keep an eye on an "author" called GWA. This is actually a collaborative effort between G-Go (he of "Reunion" and "Union" fame), Captainkodak1 (he of "The Lotus Bloom", "Four Friends", and the thousand-and-one humorous and/or sexy vignettes), MrDrP (he of "An Epic Sitch" and "Nacho Boy and Dragon Lady"), Zaratan (he of the "Bonnie's Curse" story arc and universe), mattb3671 (the King of Smuff), and, for some odd reason, myself. We've got something fun coming up, so keep your eyes pealed.
And again, thanks to my Lord Jesus Christ. I hope that You are honored in this.