A/N: Chapter 4! Woot woot! I struggled a bit with this one, had to make a few hard choices. If it seems unbelievable near the end, that's only because I had to make some concessions to move the story along.

Disclaimer: Kim Possible and affiliated licenses do not belong to me, I'm simply borrowing them for my own use, and for your entertainment.

Dedicated to all my wonderful reviewers, youguys have been my number one support so far!

The Strange Life After

Chapter 4: Rusty

It was not without difficulty that Ron Stoppable secured his release from Go City General Hospital late that night. The doctors and nurses had insisted on numerous checks, then checks of those checks, and then another check for both of the previous checks…it seemed as if would go on forever. But despite the normally frustrating circumstances, Ron's thoughts were more focused on how to escape his unfortunate predicament.

'Being indebted to Shego is NOT going to be good for my health. Who knows what she'll put me through? She'll probably make me run across a meat grinder, incinerate whatever is left of me, and then make me clean it up myself!' Ron fretted endlessly. 'Things just went from bad, to worse. Okay, so KP is cheating on me. The Ron-man can bounce back from that! But working for Shego…' No matter which way you sliced it, Ron predicted he would be dead within a week, if he even made it that long.

Ron was violently snapped out of his waking nightmare by the young nurse who had first checked him.

"Good news, Mr. Probable!" she started.

'Figures. She hits on me and STILL can't remember my name. I mean, c'mon! It's right there on the paper!' Ron privately stewed.

"Despite our fears, it looks like you're going to be able to leave with a clean bill of health! You've still got minor lacerations…well, everywhere, but they're not severe enough for us to make you stay if you've got places to be. Just be careful, okay hun?" she finished.

"Uh, thanks, I will" Ron replied, his thoughts once again otherwise engaged. He turned to leave.

"Oh, wait, there is one other thing…" she said, causing him to turn back towards her silently. Not receiving the clarifying question she expected, she elaborated: "Have you ever had a…well, this is going to sound silly, but...did you know you have a microchip installed at the base of your neck?"

Ron nodded, "Yeah, a buddy of mine installed it years ago to make sure my girlfr—uh, my friends could always find me if I was in trouble."

She seemed startled by his relative non-reaction to her query. "Well, it…got fried somehow, in your accident. We didn't know what it was at first, it just showed up a little metal thing on the X-rays. But I had Dr. Bell check it out up close while we were running this last batch of tests, and we determined that the chip was plugged directly into you vital signs. Which is why we think, and this is just a theory, the chip getting fried is a major reason why you were in so much pain when you first were brought here. Simple lacerations shouldn't have incapacitated you as severely as you were. We think that when the chip got fried, it sent a jolt through your whole body. Hence the severe pain" she finished, practically panting with the effort of the rather long-winded explanation.

Ron winced at the thought. "So I just have a melted dead weight sitting in my neck now?"

"Yeah. Not much we can do for it. It's attached too deep. I would suggest going to whoever, eh, gave it to you and having them either remove or replace it. Until then, you might experience short, temporary bouts of pain during strenuous or stressful activity, and your overall coordination and reaction time will probably be a bit slower. Sorry" she finished with a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, before taking her exit.

Left to ponder this new information, Ron slowly slogged out of the hospital, called a cab, and gave them the address for his new "employment".

It was with a heavy heart (to say nothing of a pre-planned last will and testament) the Ron stepped out of the taxi at exactly 5:58 am.

'Whoah. She wasn't kidding about those damages' Ron thought warily as he took stock of his surroundings. The building itself was far from what might be called "low-key", a hulking structure at least three stories high, with the entire front exterior covered by glass, apart from one particularly large panel to Ron's immediate left, which had been temporarily sealed off with construction nets and tape. The sign etched into the aforementioned glass proudly declared the building to be the home of 'NSG: Private Sector Security' in large, reflective dark green letters. Inside, the lobby was visibly barren, although torn up tiles and skid marks betrayed Ron's motorcycle's points of impact. There was fairly large hole in the lobby wall, and more skid marks leading to it. Finally, there was a large stand (probably meant for an even larger television or monitor bank) which was currently unoccupied, and a desk that, despite its proud stance, was glaringly obvious as the newest feature of the room. He opened the door cautiously, bracing himself to the best of his ability for the painful death he was certain would soon come.

"Uh…Shego?" Ron inquired. His voice sounded small and fearful, but echoed uncontrollably in the large open space of the lobby. Steeling himself, he tried once more. "Shego! Are you in here?" Still, his answer was a large, empty room. He was quickly feeling more alone than he had in a long time, the loud, empty lobby proving more intimidating than any foe ever had to his memory.

Many things could be said of Ron Stoppable. That he was patient was not one of them. Soon enough, his essential "Ron-ness" fought its way to the surface, and he had to resist the urge to look around. 'Bad idea' he chastised himself. 'You're already in enough trouble with Shego as it is. You don't need her thinking that you're trying to spy on her, too…'

After a few more minutes, he resolved to at least sit down somewhere, his sore muscles already protesting his natural slouched, standing position. Turning to the desk, he found the chair strangely ready for him, set out at a comfortable angle next to the desk. And on the desk, Ron was quick to notice the comic book that lay open, beckoning him.

Had Ron still been active in missions, he may have chosen to pay more heed to the small voice in the back of his head that screamed 'Trap!'. But as it stood, Ron found himself an uncomfortable (and quite frankly exhausted) young man, with little left to lose, at least in his own mind. Against his better judgment he eased into the chair, careful to go easy on his aching sides.

After about an hour, he found himself strangely at ease, munching on the naco he had found waiting for him in the top drawer, and reading the comic, feet propped up carelessly on the desk.

"Rule number one, buffoon! Never let your guard down!" came the shout from right behind him, as the chair was quickly flipped, leaving Ron on the floor, clutching his side in pain.

"Sh-Shego!" he stuttered, taking in the sight of the smirking woman standing over him. "I didn't know where you were—I mean, I was just—uh, I was trying to—." He was cut off by a swift kick in the ribs.

"Getting rusty, sidekick! Rule number two! Always appear confident" she chided, her tone still menacing. She ripped up the comic and threw the pieces at him, then gestured to his naco-covered shirt. "Rule number three! Always expect the worst. I would've thought even you would have caught a trap THIS obvious." She slapped her palm against her forehead. "But then again, maybe I forget who I'm dealing with here."

"Well, I mean, I suspected, but I just didn't want to risk pissing you off—" he stopped short, his newly-regained powers of speech running just a few seconds ahead of his rattled brain. 'Good job, Stoppable, you've REALLY pissed her off now" he scolded himself.

His answer was another blow, this time a small kick in the stomach, causing him to wince again. "Rule number four!" she continued. "ALWAYS trust, and act on, your instincts!"

He dragged himself up off the floor as best he could, at a pace that made him envious of the speed of sloths.

"And let's not forget the ever-important rule number five!" she said sternly, lifting him up by the collar. "Never put your feet. On. My. DESK!" she finished by slamming him into the wall behind them. In a supreme act of mercy, she at least made sure he was steady on his feet before letting go. Thankful for the small shred of dignity she allowed him in this regard, he stood up to his full height and tried his best to look like he wasn't intimidated.

It didn't work. "Uh-uh, Sh-Shego…" his voice had chosen once again to not only abandon him, but made sure the few words he did get out were filled with puberty-esque cracks. Oh, the fates were cruel indeed.

His reward for his failing effort to look powerful was an obnoxious snort, as she turned away from him. "Now," she began authoritatively, "as much fun as it's been playing 'beat up the sidekick', we do have some work to get done, so let's get started. Any questions?"

Oh, she would regret asking that. Ron took a minute to regain his bearings, then started with the obvious: "Why the setup? Some kind of test or something?"

"Bingo! And he scores on the first try" she said sardonically, her back still to him as she hastily sifted through the papers on her desk. "Need me to answer your next obvious question, or can you do that one yourself, too?"

He rubbed the back of his neck as if his life depended on it, noting numbly the small lump that signaled his newfound deadweight. "As appealing as that little torture session was, what was the point? You could've just, I don't know, yelled at me? I mean, it just seems a little counterproductive to beat up someone who you're going to need help from later on." He instantly regretted his poor choice of words.

Shego rounded on him dangerously. "Let's get one thing straight, buffoon!" she spat. "You're not here because I 'need' your help, you're here to pay back your debt by making yourself useful for a while. Are we clear?"

"Crystal" Ron managed to squeak out.

"Good!" she said, the sarcasm dripping from her voice at such a rate that Ron found himself looking for acid on the floor. "Then let's get started. Right now, all I need is clerical work. I don't have any field jobs scheduled until tomorrow, so I get to spend today training, while you handle my phone calls and papers. That's gonna happen until lunch. After lunch, we're switching. I got a good look at that pasty white physique of yours after your accident, so you're priority, both on AND off the clock, is getting in shape."

Despite himself, Ron couldn't help but perk up at the mention of lunch. "When's lunch?" he couldn't stop himself from inquiring.

"Whenever I say so" she replied simply, stalking off to the training room and leaving Ron with only the vaguest idea of his morning duties.

As it turns out, Shego got hungry earlier than usual that day, so it was at noon sharp that she ordered Ron over the local sub-shop for some food. She was slightly put out, then, at his failure to immediately comply. "Buffoon! Food! Now!" she shouted again, gesturing towards the door.

Ron just stood awkwardly, mumbled something and shuffled his feet.

"Ahem! Speak up, moron, I can't hear you. You'd better have a good reason why you're not doing what you've been told!" she said scathingly, flaring up her hands for emphasis.

"I, uh, don't have a way to get there. No vehicle anymore…" Ron trailed off, his fear currently warring with his embarrassment for which would be expressed first.

Shego let her hands go out, staring silently the briefest of moments. Then without warning, she laughed, a harsh but genuine sound.

Ron, not daring to ask what was so funny out of fear of antagonizing the dangerous woman, simply waited awkwardly for her to regain her composure.

Between harsh laughter, she managed one more barb: "Why did I even bother asking? You can't drive for shit anyway! I mean, LOOK at this place! Ha!"

Finally, Ron had taken enough. His eyes flashed blue for the briefest of moments before he slammed his fist against the wall, causing yet another hole. Startled out of her amusement, Shego could only watch in wonder as Ron stalked towards her, his stride that of a seasoned warrior rather than an awkward buffoon.

"That's enough, Shego" he started, his voice uncharacteristically low with menace. "You know, ever since I showed up here, you've been putting me down, ordering me around like some kind of damn dog. I'm sick to death of it. I might owe you some money, but that doesn't give you an excuse to treat me like your own personal pet, here for your amusement. I am Ron Stoppable, I am a grown man, and I will not be terrorized!" he finished, his pitch rising dangerously.

To say that Shego was at a loss for words would be an understatement of epic proportions. 'Since when does Kimmie's little boy-toy have a backbone?' Even without the blue eyes, she noted, in his current stance he radiated a commanding aura. If she didn't know better, she would almost say he looked…dangerous. 'Maybe that idiot Fiske was right about this buffoon. I never did understand why this kid was able to beat him all the time...maybe he just needs a little pushing to be a credible threat?'

Despite her line of thought, she drummed up a signature smirk, the picture of nonchalance. "You done now?" she said, just barely managing to keep the curiosity out of her voice. "That new hole is getting added to your debt, by the way."

By now, Ron had returned to his usual slouched stance, appearing for all the world an unassuming regular joe. "Yeah, I'm done" he hesitantly stated, surprised that he managed to live this long after his outburst. Receiving no response, he chanced on pressing his luck. Knowing this may well be his last statement, he chose his words extra carefully. 'Fortune favors the bold…here goes nothing.'

"Shego" he began again, affecting a tone as firm as he could manage. "I have no problem with paying my debt to you, but you need to start treating me like an employee, not a slave. I appreciate what you're doing by allowing me an opportunity to pay you back without just strangling me, but there's a limit to what I can take. Like I said, I'm a grown man, whether you see me that way or not. We're equals, at least in the legal sense. So I would much appreciate it if you would start treating me that way." He finished with his eyes shut, expecting his world to end in a burst of green plasma.

His surprise was immeasurable, then, when she simply responded with a cocked eyebrow, and a conversational tone. "Alright, sidekick, we'll play it your way. From now on, we're partners. I won't order you around with anything I wouldn't be willing to do myself." Ron stared, mouth agape, as she continued. "But don't you EVER presume that you'll get away with an outburst like this again. We're equals, now, and that means I'll treat you the same way I would anyone else who crosses me. No more going easy on you."

Through his shock, Ron was able to summon up enough psychological fortitude to ask: "You call this morning 'going easy'?"

"Oh, absolutely" she said, flashing him one of her old evil grins, the kinds reserved for Kim before coming to blows. "Playtime is over, sidekick. Time for the big leagues. Now get to that gym. I'll get my own lunch." She sat down, and began to file her nails. 'Some things never change' some part of Ron's brain supplied.

"Where is it?" Ron asked, scarcely believing this wasn't some strange afterlife.

"Down the hall and to the left. You can't possibly miss it" came the simple reply.

"Right."

Ron made to go that way, before turning around one more time.

"Oh, and Shego?"

"Hmmm?" she responded, scarcely looking up from her nails.

"If we're partners, how about calling me by name for a change."

"Why are you still here? Get to the gym, Stoppable!" she barked, looking up with a glare.

Reassured by her unspoken confirmation, Ron made his way to the gym, checking his vital signs in disbelief the whole way.

A/N: Oh my gosh, this one was hard! I hope everything flows well. R&R, please. I'm anxious to know what you all think!

Next up: Ron's first field mission with his new partner! Expect the unexpected! DUN DUN DUN (yeah, that was lame, I know...)