AN: I don't own Kim Possible. Disney does.
This story has no sex or violence, but it's still rated Mature for a reason. I didn't want to write this story, but it wouldn't leave me alone. It's part of why I haven't been writing lately. It wouldn't let me focus on my other stories.
That and I've been busy with school. Just finished the term, so have a few weeks off until I go back.
This story could be considered part of either of my current universes I suppose. Or neither. Up to you I guess. I don't care to think about it myself.
"Catch you later Princess," Shego sneers, holding the capsule of nanobots in one hand, other hand gripping the rung of the rope ladder that leads to Dr. Drakken's hover craft as it lifts into the air.
Kim glares daggers at her enemy, the wind whipping her auburn mane about wildly as she stands on the roof of the Advanced Research Initiative's skyscraper, recently located in Downtown Middleton. Giving a quick growl of anger, she pulls out her Kimmunicator, and is about to press the button to contact Wade, wishing that Ron had not been sick, and thus missed the mission. Her thumb is resting on the button when something odd catches her eye.
Standing on the ledge of the skyscraper next to the one she's on, is a form, huddled against the cold winter air, staring down at the ground 32 stories below. Not liking the way the person is standing so close to the edge, she decides to investigate. After pocketing her Kimmunicator, lamenting that her supersuit was undergoing maintenance, she breaks into a run, pulling out the grappling gun. Taking aim at the antenna spire that goes up another 50 feet, she pulls the trigger just as she leaps off the 34 story science building. Feeling the familiar jolt as the hook grips the antenna, she presses the button that reels in the thin wire, pulling her as she swings at an angle for the building, doing a small forward flip and landing on the roof of the building in a crouch.
Brushing herself quickly off, she heads closer to the man; yes it was a man, as she was now close enough to see him better. The man, thin and wiry, is wearing a black, thin, and battered oil-cloth trench-coat, the tails whipping in the high wind from being so high up. His black gloves seemed to be several sizes too small for his large hands, pale flesh, chapped and red from early frostbite showing through holes in the gloves. Dark brown eyes stare out in sorrow from under thick and wavy dirty blond hair, the hair dirty and disheveled. Perhaps an oddity, despite the color being natural, the hair on his head does not match the bright orange-reddish beard and mustache, equally disheveled as the hair, tufts of it sticking out in different directions.
"Hey Mister," Kim asks softly, slowing her approach so as not to startle the man and cause him to fall, "Are you ok?"
"You're a braver soul than I," He says, almost too low for her to hear.
"Huh?" Kim asks, then looks back where she had landed, "Oh. That," she shrugs and grins sheepishly, "It's no big."
"To you perhaps," he says, "But I could never do that. I'm terrified of heights."
"Umm, can you step back then?" she asks, confused, "I don't want you falling."
"I'm fine now," the man says, still looking at the ground far below them, "My fear is gone."
Spreading his arms, and leaning forward slightly, he says, "Fear cannot be without hope nor hope without fear. Baruch Spinoza said that back in 1677." Lowering his arms, he then murmurs, "And I have lost all hope of a better tomorrow."
"And who said that?" Kim asks, fear clutching her heart.
Snorting, the man says, "I did. Just now"
"Talk to me," she says, taking a single step, stopping abruptly when the man takes two steps away from her, "Tell me why you're doing this."
"Because I have no hope," the man says, edging closer to the edge, "My life has been nothing but failures."
"It doesn't have to end this way," Kim says, desperate now, "There are people who.."
"People who can help?" the man says, giving a short bitter laugh, "Please. I tried that. A life time of therapy. I'm taking drugs with names I can't even pronounce. And it doesn't help."
"Your family...friends," Kim says softly, trying to move closer to the man.
Shaking his head, the man says, "My family abandoned me long ago. My friends..." shaking his head, "I have no friends anymore. They couldn't accept my problems. I don't blame them really. What was I thinking, shouldering my problems onto them? Always pushing them away, then wondering why I always ended up alone."
Looking down at the street far below, he says, "No. It's better this way." Taking a deep breath, he smiles softly, then steps forward, dropping off the edge of the roof.
"No!" Kim shouts out, racing to the edge and diving after, taking her grappling gun out as she dives after the man, streamlining her body in the hopes of overtaking him.
The man doesn't seem to notice her until he feels her grabbing the back of his coat. Looking up, he says, "No! Let me go!" even as he watches her fire her grappling gun upwards. The hook arcs over the roof, landing, then scraping along the surface until it hooks a pipe, pulling them to a stop.
Flipping a switch on the grappling gun, Kim grunts with the effort to hold the man's weight by the back of his coat, "I'm not going to let you go!"
Sorrow etches his face as the man looks up at her, "You can't save those who don't want to be saved." With that, he says, "I'm sorry," then shifts his shoulders around, leaving her holding an empty coat at she stares at his falling form in horror. Unable to watch, she turns her face away at the last moment, eyes clenched shut as tears stream down her face.
Author's note: Sorry for the depressing story. As I said, it wouldn't leave me alone.
In 2004, I was hospitalized after suffering a nervous breakdown. While in the Hospital, I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and Borderline Personality Disorder. Basically, it means I have trouble with my emotions. My Bipolar means I fluctuate between severe depression and extreme mania, with my spectrum tending more towards depression with only the occasional flare of mania. I think maybe in the last 6 years, I've had perhaps 7 or 8 manic episodes, with my depressive state bearing at a near constant. Kind of hard to tell from the inside though to be honest. Live with something long enough, it's just the way it is.
But it gets hard. There are times when I sit and stare at nothing for hours, my mind focusing on morbid things, bad memories, stuff like that. I also have suicidal ideation, which basically just means I think about it alot, imagine going through with it while rarely, at least these days, actually planning to do it.
As for the guy in the story, I guess you could call him what tvtropes would call an Author Avatar. He represents the mindset I have when I'm in a particularly depressed mood. There is one major difference. I consider him to be a bonafide jackass for what he did. Not the suicide itself, although yeah, that was pretty messed up too. I mean where he basically forced Kim to watch him do it.
There have been numerous times where I have held the knife to a vein, stood at the ledge, or had the rope around my neck, and the one thing that stopped me was thinking about those that cared about me. And even thinking about the poor SOB who would discover me. And I always realize that I can't cause that kind of pain in others.
So yeah, to me, suicide is one of the most selfish acts one can perform.
However, I don't consider those around him innocent either. Well, innocence and guilt doesn't really play a part in that I suppose. Guilt implies they deliberately refused to help. More like, I consider them ignorant. I wish I could fully explain it, but I don't think I can here. Suffice to say, those of us with Borderline Personality Disorder have a fuzzy sense of self, and it leads to what is called splitting. A tender moment between Self and Other could mean the disappearance of Self, which leads to anxiety. To overcome the anxiety, the Other is made into a very bad person; this can be done, because the Other is made responsible for this anxiety. However, if the Other is viewed as a bad person, the Self must be bad as well. Viewing the Self as all bad cannot be endured, so the switch is made to the other side: the Self is good, which means the Other must be good too. If the Other is all good and the Self is all good, where does the Self begin and end? Intense anxiety is the result and so the cycle repeats itself.
As you can imagine, it makes relationships difficult. Not just romantic relationships either. I push everyone away if I think they're getting too close. And eventually, if you push hard enough, the other will not return. Which for me feeds into my Bipolar. Fun huh?
The AN wasn't supposed to be this long. Sorry. What I wanted to say was simply this. If you know someone like this, don't let them push you away. Give them their space if they start panicking, but don't let them win. And if you suffer from this, get the help you need. There are treatments for it. Both prescriptions and therapy have helped me considerably.