Ron sighed. He wasn't usually one to sigh upon being given the order to kill, but he had just come back from the most stressful damn mission anyone could imagine- toppling the military power structure of a country whose warrior culture was old when Moses was in diapers.
He was looking forward to awkwardly trying to explain to Jax that he didn't care what shade the fringes on the polka-dotted pink lace were. That all that mattered was having him, her, Kim and Shego there, and having a preacher to marry Jax and him.
He didn't know why they were bothering with a wedding. They were agnostics, for God's sake. He just had a strong urge to bind him and her- to be able to share one name, one home, one soul. To be one as was impossible without being married.
Okay, he couldn't really claim to be agnostic. He knew God was out there, how else could he explain Jax and him meeting, let alone her loving him? He just didn't know how he could forgive himself for the things he's done.
It was really hard finding a preacher. Jax and Ron searched all over New York for one who hadn't abandoned his faith. Preachers were going apostate right and left. Priests were leaving their collars in the road. Buddhists were leaving their robes in the temples, and going into the cities.
Imams and Rabbis were the only ones who held their faith nowadays.
Ron stopped thinking and boarded the plane, survival kit, sword, and rifle all in place
Aeroporto dell'Urbe, Rome, 2036
Ron came off the plane, and into Rome. He barely had time to hear footsteps, whip his head around, and see a green blur before it hit him in the jaw.
Rome, 2036
When he came to, his vision was blurry. He felt very pinched in his groin and armpits, and he felt someone's left arm locked with his right. His vision cleared slightly and he saw he was inside a white building, with an alley and rows of seating. He realized, slowly, where he was.
"Jax. Next time, tell me before you drag me into our wedding."
"You have no idea how hard it was to find a church that wasn't Catholic in Rome."
"What church is this?"
"The All Saint's Church. It's Anglican. Not ideal, but it'll do."
"Okay. Let's get this show on the road."
Someone tapped Grigor on the shoulder- he was standing outside the chapel door, standing guard. He wasn't comfortable in churches.
"I have important news for you. Come outside."
They proceeded out the door of the chapel.
It was a middle-aged man in a uniform.
"You may not believe this, but it needs to be said. I wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes. Your wife and son-"
"-Are long dead after being taken from me by the Mafia, and not relevant to any news you may have."
"No. They were alive."
"Were?"
"Your son is dead and your wife is dying."
"What? How could they have survived the drive by? Impossible."
"The region had a horrible coroner- he had several other notable cases of mistakenly declaring someone dead- they were in a backwoods hospital that was overstressed and undermanned. They also, for many, many years, had amnesia. They had only recovered recently and were scraping together the funds for a trip to the city. After the banning of meat, they had no way to get vitamin C, iron or protein. Orange trees don't grow in Russia's backwoods, neither do health supplement stores."
"No."
The thought that he had killed his wife, that he had been the one to wield the knife that slew her and his son was too much to bear. The weight of sadness that bore down on him was too much. He couldn't express it, couldn't feel it, couldn't even breathe. He wished he was back in that stable. He had learned to endure, to thrive in physical pain. However, this, this part of him that had resurfaced after ten thousand lifetimes, was too much to bear. Losing them was what lead him to become a true alcoholic, and to truly forget what type of man he'd been with them at his side.
"Now."
"What?"
"Take me to them, NOW!"
Grigor's man had come in a black market renovated SR-71 Blackbird, the engines updated, the whole plane upgraded so the damn thing could go Mach 5.
A speed surpassed only by the US'S Aurora Bomber.
It was fast. Would it be fast enough?
Inside the Church, Rome, 2036
After taking the time to get Ron Jr. up to speed, and awake, and reoriented- and, more to the point, calm- the minister started the ceremony.
"We are gathered here today to bind these two in holy matrimony. God gave marriage to mankind for reasons that these two exemplify. To take the man- hot tempered, loyal to a fault, and bind him to the woman- calm, and needing someone to rely on. This is not discrimination; they have come to me individually and told me as much about themselves. If there is one among you who can give a reason why these two should not be lawfully wed, speak now or forever hold your peace."
Backwoods Russia, 2036
Grigor leapt out of the plane at that same time around the world. He was not a healthy man. He had a hangover now that threatened to rip his head apart. His contacts had fallen out, so he couldn't see more than 5 feet ahead. His lumbago made it painful to move if he was hunched over as he was now, to cut the drag. He last ran when he left the army, decades ago. There wasn't a part of him that was not sweating and hurting.
He didn't give a flying fuck about any of that. All that mattered now, all that existed, all that could possibly ever exist was his wife. Hell could try to take him now, and Satan would end up with a bruising, nothing but nothing could stop him from getting there.
He saw the door coming up into the cottage his wife was being kept in because she was too poor to afford a medivac to a hospital. He saw the door. To open the door would slow him down. Bye-bye door.
His shoulder rammed the door.
The door splintered under the force of the blow. 150 plus pounds moving at maximum speed is a hell of a lot of damage.
All Saint's Chapel, Rome, 2036
"Ronald Stoppable Junior. Do you swear to love, honor, cherish, obey, and love no other than Jenine Standard as long as you both shall live?"
"I do."
"Jenine Standard. Do you swear to love, honor, cherish, and obey none other than Ron Stoppable as long as you both shall live?"
"I do."
Backwoods Russia, 2036
"My wife, my love, my soul, are you alive?"
Grigor heard a weak murmur. He pressed his head to her throat.
"Yes."
"Forgive me, I had thought you dead after the Mafia kidnapped you and Alexi. Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Food."
He sent the envoy to search the woods for some game. In the mean time, he pulled out the survival pack from the airplane.
"My darling, here is the best I can do for the moment. If God allows, fresh meat will be here soon. A vitamin and some pemmican are all I can do for now."
He saw her unable to chew, and said, "Let me help you."
Grigor got the crowbar from the survival pack, and used it to cut up and smash the tablets and pemmican into an easily edible form.
She managed to swallow it this time.
All Saint's Church, Rome, 2036
The minister continued, "Do you, Ron Stoppable, promise to take Jenine to have and to hold from this day forward; for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?"
Ron turned to Jax
"I promise to take you, Jax, to have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, in health, to love and to cherish until death do us part."
"Do you, Jenine, promise to take Ron Stoppable, to have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, in health, to love and to cherish till death do you part?"
"I promise to take you, Ron Stoppable, to have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, in health, to love and to cherish until death do us part."
The backwoods near Omsk, Russia, 2036
The village 'doctor' tapped Grigor on the shoulder, and pulled him aside.
"Sir, I don't know how to tell you this, but… your wife is dying, and there's nothing we can do. I took a blood sample, did the best I could to test it. From that and her looks, her digestive system cannot process it fast enough. Her body is going into its final auto-cannibalistic cycles, and I can do nothing to prevent it. If I had an IV or real hospital equipment, maybe- but not here, not now."
"Do you have needles?"
"Yes."
"The digestive system, the bloodstream carries away the nutrients, right?"
"Yes. I see where you're going with this, but without the proper tests, blood transfusions are insane."
"But without the transfusions, she'll die."
"Alright. As her closest relative, you have the legal authority, but I'd advise you against it as her doctor. Sign this form acknowledging you're going against my medical advice, and we can begin."
He signed the form, and rolled up his sleeves.
"Begin."
All Saint's Church, Rome, 2036
Ronald called forth the Best Man, Jacques Standard.
Ron whispered to Jacques, "Thanks for doing this, man, I know how hard it is for you."
Jacques said, "I can stomach it, as long as you don't hurt her."
"I would never"
The minister snapped his fingers.
"The ring, please, gentlemen. I cannot imagine a conversation that cannot wait twenty seconds."
They both blushed and Jacques gave the ring to Ron. Ron put it on Jax's finger.
"I now declare you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."
The backwoods near Omsk, Russia, 2036
The first needle, already sterilized and filled with his blood, was given to his wife. The blood went in slowly. Grigor bowed his head in shame that he could've let this happen. If he'd only known that his wife would be put in danger, he never would've even joined the CVB. His wife was his rock, his companion. He latched onto her common soul after losing everything after the collapse of the Soviet Union. They'd met, strangely enough, in a McDonalds. He was ordering some lunch, and the tables were full. So the woman that finished after him, he invited her to sit down with him. They took a while to fall in love, but their similarly analytical minds and sharp wits kept each other on their toes. Whenever he offended her, she had a stare, a pose that told him to shut up- which he did fairly quickly.
But then again, that was the rub, wasn't it? By making that policy, he had harmed others' wives and sons, like he'd killed his own. He was just a dictator who'd had Murphy force him to taste his own poisoned wine. Most never had to see the results of their atrocities first hand.
The meter, instead of showing her heartbeat grow stronger, showed the lub-dub growing weaker.
"Doctor- what's happening?"
"The nutrients ARE coming into her bloodstream, from your blood. Your blood types are compatible. However, you had viruses in your genes that she was not immune to. When your blood distributed the viruses to hers, she started dying."
He heard his heart slow with the beat of the meter. He couldn't believe it. It was impossible; not here, not now, his love couldn't be snatched away so suddenly after rediscovering her.
He was numb as the beat stopped, and the sound became steady.
"Time of death: 2 PM, in local time, 2000 GMT. "
A gunshot rang out behind Grigor. The doctor's corpse slumped over on his wife.
"Grigor. It took some time to get through your security. We have a proposition for you."
Somewhere over Austria, 2036
A day later, Grigor was on the Blackbird again, headed for Rome. The CVB base there had packed up, and moved to New York. He had a price to exact upon the world, for the harsh lien it had taken on his soul.