Disclaimer: Wherein the author admits to using other people's property for personal satisfaction, but without any monetary gain at all
She's pulling away. Her lips aren't on mine anymore... when I try to follow, something is physically pushing me away: her hands...
Something is desperately wrong.
"We're moving way too fast..." She says. I don't care; it was good. Great, actually. With my new lack of experience, I'm close to saying perfect. Not that I'd know any better... I let her know, and she scoffs painfully at me. "No... You don't even know who you are yet. I...'ll try to control myself until you do."
And she just leaves. Just... Ups and leaves the room. She doesn't even say anything else to me.
Thanks. At least she removes the IV drip first...
But now I'm motivated to know who I am! What an incredible motivation! More of... that... mind-blowing experience would be nice.
Better than nice, really.
I flop back onto my pillow, and close my eyes for just a second.
Darkness.
Red on orange, black, blue, pink. Red on everything.
Explosions, fire, screaming, running, panting, why, God, WHY?
Gunshots, wind, impact, a flash of green, pain, blissful, blissful pain, and earth-rending silence.
The darkness continues.
What the fu-
Oh, a dream. That was... not fun. Apparently I was sleeping, and dreamt about...?
I don't remember anymore. I'm just sure it wasn't pleasant.
Well, I know I feel ridiculously gross, and a shower would be nice. It might help me shake that... unpleasantness from the dream, whatever it was. As would using the bathroom. I drag myself out of bed, and make it to the door when it abruptly swings open and knocks me off my feet. Either I've lost a lot of weight while bedridden, or I was always meant to be airborne, because the force of the door sends me flying.
These crazy reflexes of mine are obviously unaffected by my apparent amnesia, however, because I'm all flips and cartwheels and... apparently barely on my feet. Yet somehow, Shego seems completely unimpressed. Was I better at this whole... reflex thing before the accident? I desperately want to ask her about that.
"Pumpkin." A greeting, I'm sure... "You're out of bed?" She is unamused, and cocks an eyebrow as she strolls over to me. There isn't even a smirk, which is kind of frightening.
"Well, you ran out after..." I, evidently, am not supposed to be out of bed. Wild gesticulating can only make my fate worse, so I stop.
"That's not an answer to my question, Camellia." Uh oh, full names, and her arms are crossing over her chest. Wild gesticulating will never happen again, I swear.
"Yes, Shego, I'm out of bed. Before you ask why, it's because I had to go to the bathroom. Come to think of it, I was chasing you, because I don't remember where the bathroom is, and I desperately am in need for a shower, and I haven't used the facilities in way too long, and-"
"You're rambling..." Her face screws funnily, and she chuckles, pulling me into a hug. Apparently unamused Shego is actually 'trying to hide amusement' Shego. I probably knew how to read her better before. "Be careful; you don't know your limits anymore. I don't even know your limits anymore." Well, you have a distinct advantage on me; you know what my limits were... But I don't say that, and I feel her smile as she tightens the hug. "I'm sorry for rushing things earlier..."
"Don't apologize; I liked it." A lot more than you'll ever know. "And you obviously care." Against all better judgment, I pry myself loose from her arms, and look her in the eye. "About that bathroom..."
The stranger in the large floor-length mirror keeps mimicking me, and I'm tempted to ask her to stop. Her green eyes take in my form, in all its naked waifish glory. Well, I'm to assume that being fed nothing for several months except through an IV drip will do that to someone. Evidently, the stranger in the mirror doesn't like this fact, and furrows her red eyebrows. I lean in closer as the copycat follows my lead, again, and I note with complete disdain that her eyebrows have not been tweezed in way too long. She seems to agree with my assessment, and smirks in a completely Shego-esque way. She flips her much-shorter-than-shoulder-length messy red hair and crosses her arms over her smallish breasts, standing confidently, as if better than me. And yes, she is a natural redhead. Irish perhaps?
"Are you quite done?" Asks the Shego from behind my reflection. Said reflection nods in unison with me before I turn around.
"I have red hair... that must be hard to hide from cameras," I muse, fingering it a little.
"Not if you usually keep it shorter than how you have it now. Usually it's a pixie cut, and this is the longest it's been for a while. All you have to do is wear a hat." Ah, that's convenient.
"Maybe I should-"
"Don't change it. I like it better this way, and as it gets longer, we can work on getting even better than you were before." I glance at her, and turn to look in the mirror again. She has green skin, so she knows what she's talking about. I mean, if she's picked up by any camera at all, she'll be identified. Slowly, hesitantly, I nod.
She wraps her arms around my torso, and I can feel her drawing light feathery circles on my hips. My very naked hips. If the mirror is to be believed, I am blushing bodily, and she is leering at my equally naked breasts. I'm naked. Oh God, since when? What? I reach up to rub my face in a desperate and futile attempt to get rid of my horrid blush. Blush, ha! That's an understatement, I'm practically glowing like a traffic baton.
"I've missed that too," she breathes as she plants a soft whisper of a kiss on my shoulder, and lets me go. "Go take your shower; I'll have something ready for you to wear when you get out." I gawk at her, but she's leaving, and... Heh, butt... Back and forth and back and...
Did she just sashay?
"And stop staring at my ass, Princess." The door closes behind her, and I shake off my... Shego-induced stupor.
Take it slow. Right. I'm sure we can do it.
I turn on the shower and jump in- COLD! COLD COLD COLD COLD COLD COLD COLD COL– Oh wait, not so much anymore. I stop jumping around, and just let the water sluice over and onto my body as it slowly gets warmer, allowing me to ponder more about this amnesia of mine. I find it strange that I know things, but I have no idea who and where I learned them from. For example, I know that the shower is a little extravagant, with its large marble tiles and multiple wall and ceiling jets, but I have nothing in my memory to compare it to. This is all more than mildly frustrating.
The calming effects of the shower do nothing to take away my unease, and when I get out and towel down, I'm still puzzling over what I know and don't know. I'm also working myself up to a spectacular headache, so I decide that thinking isn't the best idea at the moment.
Shego's choice of clothing is admittedly more green than I'd like (though it looks pretty good with my hair), but it'll have to d–
Wow... If the reflection is anything to go by, Shego has excellent tastes. I smile a little and walk out, letting my hair air dry.
If I remember correctly, it's a right here, and a left... Then another left at the Pollock's No. 5, and... The door beside the Picasso. I open the door and see Shego sitting by my bed with more food, and a somber expression on her face.
She perks up as I walk in, and smiles weakly at me, erasing the... not-so-happy face that was gracing our presence before that. I ask her what the hell is bothering her, because the smile on her face is obviously forced. She shakes her head, telling me it's really nothing, and I don't have to worry, because it really is nothing. She even has the gall to smirk and asks if I'd like her to pinky swear with me if it'll make me feel better. I laugh at her, and suddenly it's not as serious as I thought it was, and she's telling me that she has to go talk to her two-bit employer about quitting, which brings me to a pretty obvious question, that I'm pretty sure I should have asked before.
"If we steal for a living, and we're good at it, why do you have a job still?"
She shrugs, smirks, and says, "College loans are a bitch." It's obvious she's lying, but she obviously doesn't want to answer, so I don't pester the only known person in my current existence.
She hands me a turkey sandwich (Oy, more poultry?), and chews on her own thoughtfully.
"When I get back... I'm not looking forward to coming back. You're probably going to hate me." I look at her questioningly, mouth too full of delectable cranberry sauce-covered turkey and starch to actually voice my question, and she indulges me, "Rehab. It'll suck."
Oh. She's said this a couple times already, but I'm not in horrible shape, am I? I ask her, and she just laughs at me, nearly spitting her drink in my face. Note to self: she is a drink sprayer; never time questions during drinking.
"You're in pretty good shape for normal people, and your reflexes are still pretty good, but..." She trails off, and I'm left to assume that she can't find the right words. "Well, I'm a master thief, right?" I nod. "Did you even see me move when I took the apple earlier today?" I shake my head, confused as to why this... OH.
Currently I can't even really do much running without panting. I wouldn't last a chance out in the real world...
"Well, we'll see what happens, anyway." She stuffs the last of her turkey sandwich into her mouth, and we both chew in silence. When she's done swallowing, she tosses a crudely sketched map onto my lap, tells me that there are hidden little bundles of proof of our relationship status in the highlighted rooms, and sandwiches and milk in the kitchen. And that I am by no means to touch any of her kitchen appliances in any way, because I am... apparently very incompetent in the kitchen? She mentions explosions while loudly guffawing at my expression of horror.
Knowledge is power, but ignorance would have saved me several facial arteries, I'm sure.
She kisses me on the cheek, still fighting chuckles, and tells me that she'll be back soon, tomorrow, or the day after at the latest. And to be careful: if one of the doors is locked, don't go in. For God's sakes, don't go in, because you could very well stumble upon dead bodies or a training room filled with traps, lasers and other frightening things.
I tell her that she reminds me of Bluebeard, and she laughs at me, ruffles my short hair as I pout, and walks out of the room with a wink.
Right, I'll look for the parcels of the past life after I sleep some more. Obviously I'm still not used to being awake for long periods of time, and those flips, cartwheels, and giggles wreaked havoc on my stamina...
A/N: My primary goal with this author's note is to apologize for not updating for... nearly 2 months. I have a legitimate excuse, but it's still an excuse, so I won't say anything.
My secondary goal is to thank my editor, alpha reader, and all around great mentor, Albrecht Starkarm, for being so encouraging and all around amazing. And for:
i) writing amazingly awesome reviews and comments, and giving amazing advice. Then offering to do edits for me. OMG.
ii) keeping me sane by suggesting some quite amusing things that I could do to my boss.
iii) attempting to push me out of my writing comfort zone, and to grow as a writer.
Mr. Starkarm has amazing stories on this here site, so go check him out! Like, now!
My tertiary goal is to say... I think I'll be updating this slowly but steadily. I have a general idea of how and where I want this to go now, so... I figure that I should be able to go with it. However, (insert typical boring author excuse here), so it'll put a little damper on this.
My... (what's after tertiary? The internet says:) quaternary goal is to say that, yes, readers, I do read comments. I don't usually respond to them, unless I feel particularly moved (aka to tears/awe) by them, but I read everything ya'll say. So thanks. And if you don't comment/review/subscribe/whatever, there's not pressure to. But I appreciate everything ya'll do. I even do the whole "WHO READ THIS WHEN OMG WHO READS THIS IN WHAT COUNTRY" (aka hit count watching) every once in a while, so it's nice to know that people care enough to read this.
My quinary (yay for the internet) goal is... Iunno. This author's note is long enough, so I'll shut up now.
In the Next Chapter: Shego quits and Cam looks for things.
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...p.s. senary, septenary, octonary, nonary, and denary come after quinary. And apparently there's nothing for 11th, but 12th is duodenary.