Chapter 4: Changes in the Sitch
"Okay now, keep it level and straight," Shego instructed Monty. The mercenary didn't like being awake this early. Most people wouldn't think that getting up at the crack of noon was a hardship, but most people didn't work nights. Still, she had to admit that Monty had a good idea. While he had been an adventurer for years, he had never learned to pilot aircraft. The two were rectifying that shortcoming at this time.
"Very well, which course do you suggest?" Monty asked.
"Let's head northeast, towards the Belizean and Mexican borders, in fact, I want you to fly to the three-way border." Shego watched as Monty pulled out a chart and plotted his course.
"That's something I never expected," Shego drawled, as her lover altered his course. "I've always took it for granted that everyone in this game can fly an aircraft."
"Oh, who besides yourself and Drew were able to do so?"
"Well, Duff has a blimp, Aviarius has his bird-jet, the Mathter and Dementor had hoverjets and Amy flew into Wyoming from Belize. Not to mention the fact that every Global Justice agent seems to be able to fly their aircraft."
"I have some interesting news for you," Fiske smirked at her. "I performed a few jobs for most of the villains you mentioned. Neither the Mathter nor Amy actually knew how to fly an aircraft. Amy obtained computer-guided aircraft while the Mathter was able to install computer guidance systems into the aircraft he obtained. Dementor is indeed a capable pilot but Duff is not, he's crashed that blasted dirigible more times than I care to count, once into my mansion. As for Global Justice, I suspect that most of them are only able to pilot the computerized agency aircraft."
"Even Junior can fly a helicopter," she teased.
"I prefer it when people don't remind me about skills certain individuals have that I do not," he grumbled. "Chief among these individuals are Junior and Motor Ed."
"Hey, I'm just having some fun."
"I know, but the fact remains that you are the only person I've met that can pilot almost any machine capable of flight."
"You're saying that I'm some sort of unique individual?"
"That's an understatement," Monty insisted. "And I appreciate that you're trying to teach me this skill."
"Hey, if you can teach the neighborhood kids archeology, I can teach my man flying," Shego paused a moment. "You really enjoy it, don't you?"
"Flying?" Monty asked. "I've always enjoyed riding in aircraft, but you know that this is the first time I've actually flown such a machine. I'm enjoying it so far but it's too early to say if I…"
"That's not it," Shego interrupted. "I mean teaching the kids archeology."
"I enjoy the science," Fiske replied. "And I suppose I enjoy passing on my knowledge to those who are interested in it."
"How about other knowledge," Shego pressed. "You know, your organizational skills and the other things you do, would you be interested in teaching kids that?"
"If I have an attentive pupil, it would seem logical," Monty answered. "I'm curious, why are you showing an interest in this?"
Shego took a deep breath. Since when did she feel hesitant about speaking her mind? Since when had she been afraid of a possible answer? It had taken her some time to realize what was bothering her about her current life. Part of the problem was that she didn't put a tremendous amount of faith in the psychology courses she had taken. She understood some of the theories; she was supposed to develop an emotional attachment to a guy who proved both capable of making his way in the world and proved his willingness to stick with her. She had that in Monty, so it was only natural, at least according to some of her former instructors, for her to want to take the relationship to the next level. Of course, Shego had long ago come to the conclusion that the line between a groundbreaking, brilliant, innovative psychologist and a hopeless quack was a very fine line indeed.
The next issue was the first rule of marketing, which said that if you tell someone they can't have something, said person will immediately want it. Shego had known for some time that she couldn't have children and she had come to terms with the fact, especially since her inability to become pregnant had come hand-in-hand with an immunity to all know STDs. When she had begun her mercenary's life, both things had been a big advantage, allowing her to burn off the biological tensions her dangerous lifestyle generated without any consequences. Now, she was beginning to feel that her life was just a little empty.
The final straw was her age. She was still shy of her thirtieth birthday and her age really shouldn't make any difference anyway. Still, if she had been a normal woman, capable of reproduction, it would be something to take into account. The fact was that the hands on Shego's biological clock were just a few years away from flipping her the bird.
So, here she was in a small aircraft, flying over a small Central-American country, with a man she honestly saw herself spending the rest of her life with. A couple weeks ago, she had come to the conclusion that she wanted a baby. She couldn't actually squirt one out herself, but she knew that she wanted to raise a child. Seeing Monty teaching the neighborhood kids had only increased this longing. Okay, so why was she feeling…shy…about talking to the guy about all this?
"Monty, I'm not going to sugar coat this," she told him. "I'd like to have a baby. Now, I know that I can't actually have a baby, but I want to raise one and I want to raise it with you."
"Whoa, Monty, steady and level flight!" She reminded him, grabbing the controls in front of her. Fortunately, the aircraft was a trainer, so Shego was able to take control from the stunned Fiske. "Okay, I take it from your goggle-eyed trout look that you don't want anything to do with it. Fine, forget I said anyth…"
"You misunderstand," Fiske interrupted. "That's not it at all. I was overwhelmed that you looked upon me as an adequate father. Do you honestly want to raise a child?"
"Monty, I thought you'd figure out by now that the only time I lie is when I'm trying to pull something off on a patsy. I don't live with patsies; I scam 'em and move on so yes, I want a child."
"And if you could bear one of your own?" Fiske prompted.
"I told you that it's impossible," Shego growled. "I thought you had better manners than to bring that up, or at least I thought you were smarter than to bring up a sore subject with a woman who can fry your butt."
"Back in Casablanca, Drew informed me that there may be a fairly simple way for you to become pregnant," Fiske informed her. "According to one of the doctors who examined you, in vitro fertilization is very promising."
"Wait, something that simple?" Shego demanded.
"According to the doctors, you're perfectly capable of carrying a child to term, the only problem is that human cells don't do well at your heightened temperatures. One of the doctors theorized that if your egg were fertilized outside your body, the zygote's genetics would be compatible with your higher body temperature. You would then be able to carry the child to term."
"Why didn't Drakken ever tell me?"
"According to him, it was a childish need to hold something over you. He didn't know if you would ever want to become a mother so he told me in case you ever brought up the matter."
"Okay, Drew and I were a little nasty towards each other," Shego chuckled at the memory. "Now, when do we go through with this?"
"You mean, you want to have a child with me?"
"Doy," Shego shook her head, while reaching over to play with his hair. "Who have I been living with for almost a year? Who did I drag out of Wyoming when it all hit the fan? Who dragged me out of that secret lab when Amy handed me my butt? Who did I just ask to adopt with me? Of course I want to have a child with you!"
For a moment, silence reigned in the cockpit.
"Okay, you're giving me the google-eyed trout look again, what gives?" Shego asked, to break the silence.
"Only trying to decide how to proceed," Monty informed her, sporting a blushing, nervous schoolboy look. "Shego, I may be a villain but I have always considered myself honorable, at least in my own way. Under my admittedly inconsistent morality, one simply does not father a child unless a certain offer is forwarded and accepted." Monty was reaching into one of his pockets, leaving Shego to mimic his earlier goggle-eyed trout look.
"Shego," Monty said, pulling his hand out of his pocket to reveal what looked like a green, stone ring. "Will you marry me? Look out! Steady and level flight!" Now Fiske seized his controls as Shego simply stared at him. "…I take it that you find the idea preposterous," Fiske grumbled. "Very well, I'm…"
"No!" Shego gasped. "I mean, no it's not a preposterous suggestion and yes, I'll marry you! You caught me by surprise! I didn't think I'd ever hear that question from someone who really meant it!"
"Very well, " Fiske couldn't control his wide smile. He activated the small aircraft's autopilot, after making sure the sky around them was empty. "Custom dictates that you extend your left hand to me."
Shego complied, still somewhat dazed. Monty paused a moment before slipping the ring onto her finger.
"I know that traditionally, the ring is supposed to be gold with a diamond. However, your plasma powers would melt gold. This ring is Jade, which should be able to withstand the heat. Unfortunately, I haven't had time to finish it completely, so it's still a little rough."
"Monty," she sobbed. "Considering who you're about to put the ring on, I think that 'rough around the edges' is appropriate." Shego couldn't help but smile as Monty slipped the stone ring onto her finger.
Shego switched the autopilot off and took control of the aircraft, turning it back around towards the airstrip. The recent exchange, punctuated by the piece of jewelry on her finger, had cancelled the lessons for today. A jade ring was a perfect reflection of her, beautiful, green and durable. Something bothered her about the ring.
"Monty," she asked him. "Where did this ring come from?"
"If you must know, it is an artifact. I found it in an unfinished state and I've been finishing it."
"Okay, just how did it happen to be in your pocket just now?"
"I put it there, of course. How do you think it came to be in my pocket?"
"Monty…" Shego tried to growl, but her smile took most of the sting out of her tone.
"Very well, since we are criminals and associate with other criminals, I consider it very likely that someone may rob my workshop at some time. I did not want to loose this piece."
"Okay…okay," Shego nodded. "I'm not a stonecarver, or whatever you call 'em, but I know that jade is a very hard stone. How long have you been working on this ring?"
"A number of weeks."
"You've been meaning to propose for that long? Even before you knew I wanted a baby?"
"Steady and level flight!" Monty shouted, as Shego's control over the aircraft slipped a bit. "I really don't want to die in an airplane accident now. To answer your question, yes. I wanted to have the ring completely polished before asking the question. However, when you brought up the prospect of a family, it seemed appropriate."
"Yes, it was," Shego agreed. The mercenary pushed the happy thoughts to the back of her mind and concentrated on flying the airplane back to the airstrip. Once they arrived, she had to make some arrangements. While the wedding wouldn't be a very flashy affair, she wanted a ceremony. Then she had to find the proper doctor.
"Monique, I'm altering your project slightly."
Monique Jenkins looked up from her workstation to give her supervisor a hairy eyeball. While she appreciated Club Banana sponsoring her in the upcoming Young Fashion Designers Contest, alterations with only two weeks before the runway only made things even more hectic.
"Okay, but I suppose I'm about to hear a pretty good reason," Monique replied, keeping her temper in check. After all, if Monique managed to place well in the contest, Club Banana would receive a lot of good publicity.
"There is," the older woman smiled at her. "Trust me, I've been in your shoes plenty of times. I know that this isn't a good time to make changes. Believe it or not, we're doing this at the request of an international agency."
"I have a hard time believing that the fate of the world is going to rest on my design," Monique quipped.
"Okay, maybe not directly. This agency wants you to use another model."
"Whoa that's not good," Monique protested. "I mean, Hope was nice enough to volunteer. Not only is that going to seriously tweak her, but I'm going to have to do some serious reworking!"
"I understand. Why don't we go into my office? You'll meet your new model and someone who can explain the whole situation?"
Grumbling, Monique followed her supervisor into the older woman's office. When the two women stepped inside, a twenty-something man rose politely to his feet. Monique had to admit that he was kind of cute.
"Agent Du, I would like you to meet the young woman who's going to win the Young Fashion Designers Contest, Monique Jenkins. Monique, this is Agent Will Du, from Global Justice."
"No offense," Monique told the young man. "But you don't exactly have the bust to make my Swimwear Category ensemble work."
Will Du belied the stories Kim and Ron used to tell about him, by breaking into a wide grin and laughing at her remark.
"I'm afraid we can't all be blessed," the agent quipped back. "But I hope that my butt makes up for the shortcoming." Still smiling, the agent offered Monique his hand, which Monique accepted.
"I'll let the two of you talk," Monique's manager told the two. The older woman stepped out of her office, shutting the door behind her.
"Would you please be seated?" Du offered. As Monique took one of the chairs, Will pulled a funny looking gizmo out of a pocket and manipulated a few controls. The device made an unpleasant, if subdued, trilling sound.
"Eavesdropping device inhibitor," Du explained, setting the gizmo on the supervisor's desk. "It will render most listening devices useless. Standard issue for elite, Global Justice agents." Du pulled the supervisor's chair out from behind her desk and sat down.
"I hope you don't mind me sitting a little closer than custom dictates," he said. "It seems a little disrespectful to sit behind someone else's desk."
"You're not like what Kim and Ron described," Monique admitted. "They told me that you were arrogant and condescending. You've been polite, so far."
"I'm having an off day," Du quipped. "Seriously though, I hope to make a more positive impression on Miss Possible and Mr. Stoppable in the near future. However, I'm sure that you're very busy and are more interested in hearing why Global Justice is interfering with your competition than discussing my personality quirks."
"You got that right."
"Very well, let's cut to the chase. During your association with Miss Possible and Mr. Stoppable, have they ever mentioned a father-son villain team called the Seniors?"
"Yeah, the father is an elderly guy, really polite, whose hobby is being a crook. The son is a kind of overgrown boy who wants to be a rock star."
"That's close enough to work with," Du nodded. "They also control…staggering…amounts of wealth. Add this wealth to the criminal and business contacts that Senior has established over the years and you have the potential for a very dangerous player in the international criminal game."
"Okay, but this isn't telling me how my designs are going to help you keep tabs on them."
"I'm getting to that, Miss Jenkins. Global Justice has recently learned that Senior is holding a competition. He is inviting certain young women to his island so that they can compete in a sort of pageant to win Junior's affections. The winner will become Junior's wife and this competition will take place three weeks after your design contest."
"I already have a boyfriend," Monique informed the agent.
"I'm sorry, you misunderstand," Will smiled. "Global Justice has obtained the services of a young woman who has agreed to be a contestant. If this woman wins the contest, she will be able to both report any extreme activity on Junior's part and, hopefully, be able to exert substantial influence upon his behavior. I'm sure you've guessed that I'm not your new model, this young woman will be your new model."
"Okay, how are my designs going to help her win?"
"The Seniors put a great deal of importance on awards and accolades," Du explained. "If our candidate models your designs, and places highly in your contest, it will enhance her ability to win the Seniors' competition."
"Let me get this straight," Monique demanded, her voice rising in indignation. "You want me to help some girl look hot, so that some crook can decide to marry her? You want me to help you degrade some poor girl like that? That's disgusting!"
"Miss Jenkins, it may sound like I'm justifying my actions but I'll try to explain. First of all, some young woman is going to marry Junior no matter how indignant you get over it. Secondly, our candidate is going to compete for Junior's affection whether or not you agree to this. Thirdly, this young woman has already volunteered for this. Finally, the implications behind the term 'marriage' aren't as encompassing as you are assuming. While the young woman will technically marry Junior, she will not be expected to consummate the marriage. The contest announcement specifically calls for an annulment period, during which she will live on the island, in order to make sure that the two are compatible before anything physical occurs between them. While I agree that competing for this young man is degrading towards the contestants, you can rest assured that you won't be, in effect, prostituting some young woman."
"So this is really important?" Monique asked, after a moment to think over what Du had told her.
"I'm not going to say that it's the highest item on our priority list," Du admitted. "But the Seniors are a real concern to international law enforcement agencies."
"Okay, fine," Monique decided. "Kim and Ron have gone out there and put their butts on the line enough, the least I can do is help out with what I do well."
"Thank you, Miss Jenkins," Du said, sincerely. "While monetary transfers can be a sensitive issue, we are prepared to compensate you in other ways. We will underwrite your first year's tuition fees at whichever secondary education institution you choose."
"Okay, this sounds a little crass, but why can't you pay cash for service?"
"It's an accounting trick," Du explained. "By keeping our expenditures discrete, it's easier for us to keep our paid assistants secret. Global Justice has a lot of enemies, Miss Jenkins, so it's better for everyone if nobody figures out that you helped us."
"Okay, I can appreciate that," Monique decided. "Now, when can I meet this model? I've got some major alterations to do and not much time to do them."
"She's waiting outside," Du informed her. "You can come in now," he said into his communication device.
Moments later the office door opened to admit Bonnie Rockwaller.
"Say what!!?" Monique demanded.
"I'll leave the two of you to get to work," Du informed the two young women. He picked up the eavesdropping device inhibitor, turned it off and left the room.
Monique stared at Bonnie for several minutes, not saying a word. Bonnie grew increasingly uncomfortable until finally, she was compelled to speak.
"Look, Monique, K, Ron and I made our peace," she explained. "I know that I was never very nice to you, because you were a friend of Kim's but I'm not playing the queen B game anymore."
"That's all personal," Monique explained. "We'll be having some interesting talks about how you spent years putting my friends down. Now just chillax and let me do my work. Okay, your complexion and hair color are close enough to Hope's that I'll be able to alter my color schemes rather than throw them out the door. You're taller than Hope, but I'll be able to work with that. I hope you don't have any plans for tonight, cause the two of us are going to be putting in some really late hours."
"Monique, do you know what a subdermal tracking chip is?"
"No."
"It's a tracking chip that has been inserted under the skin in one of my legs. The doctor that did it made incisions on both legs, so I couldn't tell which one has the chip. Anyway, there's a receiver here and a receiver at my house. If I'm not here, at home, or traveling a straight line between the two, I'm visiting the big house. Trust me, as much as you hold a grudge for the way I treated Kim and Ron, I'd rather be here than at home with Connie and Lonnie."
"We might as well get to work," Monique told her, leading the way out of the office and to her workstation. I have to produce outfits for formal wear, casual wear, active wear and swimwear, so we're looking at spending a lot of time together."
Beep-Beep-be-Beep.
The Kimmunicator's familiar tone, which had been thankfully silent all week, interrupted Kim's half-sleeping daydream. The teen heroine didn't bother opening her eyes, she simply groped for her beach bag and pulled out the offending device.
"What's the sitch, Wade?" She asked. "You're cutting into my last day of sunning."
"Sorry Kim, but I have a direct request from Dr. Director herself."
"Patch her through," Kim sighed. Opening her eyes, she saw that Ron had roused himself and was also paying attention to the conversation.
"Sorry to bother you, Kim," the older woman's face appeared on the screen. "But we have a situation with the Seniors that needs your intervention."
"I thought that the French, Italian and Spanish navies sort of…convinced…them to give up on the whole villainy thing," Ron protested.
"We don't intend to send Kim in to halt criminal activity, Ron," Dr. Director informed the teen. "While we have some indications that the Seniors my be contemplating criminal activity, this mission has nothing to do with preventing it."
"Then why do you want me…hey!" Kim suddenly realized a key point from Dr. Director's statements. "What do you mean send me in? Don't you mean send us in?"
"In this case, we need you, not your team," Dr. Director informed the young redhead.
"So not happening," Kim declared. "I work with Ron in the field and Wade backing us up."
"What about Rufus?" Ron asked.
"I consider the two of you to be a single unit," Kim informed her boyfriend.
"Ah..." Ron nodded.
"We're getting a little far afield here," Dr. Director announced. "Kim, would you like to talk this over in a more private setting?"
"Not without Ron."
"Very well," Dr. Director sighed. "There's a small beach shop roughly a quarter mile north of you. Why don't the two of you go have yourselves an iced latte? Tell the counterman that you heard that the Manager's Special was the best." The Kimmunicator screen went dark.
"What does liquid snackage have to do with a GJ mission?" Ron asked.
"It's a front," Kim explained, rolling her eyes at the fact that Ron was still capable of seeing complex schemes, but not simple ones.
"Oh, so the counterman will show us the way to some sort of secure communications center?"
"Exactly," Kim told him, rolling up her beach towel and pulling a pair of shorts over her swimsuit. "What?" She asked, seeing Ron's troubled expression.
"Will the iced latte be any good?"
"I don't think we're going to get any iced Latte, Ron."
"Aw, man, that tanks!" Ron whined, but he quickly gathered his belongings, pulled on a pair of sandals and accompanied his girlfriend up the beach. Before long, they spotted the beach shop and approached the small snack counter.
"Where did you hear about the Manager's Special," the counterman asked. "It's not up on the menu board."
"An…acquaintance…told us it was the best," Kim told him.
"Okay, do you both want one?"
"What one of us gets, the other one gets," Kim assured him.
"Very well, why don't the two of you have a seat? They take a bit to mix up."
Kim and Ron had no more sat next to each other on a pair of stools when the floor dropped out from under them. It was a very short vacuum tube trip but Kim could see the look of utmost disgust on Ron's face, as the two were sucked along to an unknown destination. Kim couldn't help but wonder what Dr. Director thought about Ron's report detailing the cost savings by eliminating Global Justice's signature transportation mode.
"What is it with GJ and vacuum tubes?" Ron demanded, once they were out of the tubes. "I mean, that was a short, little trip. Elevators are cheaper than vacuum tubes and stairs are cheaper yet. Better yet, couldn't they just make it a big water slide? I mean, why not have some fun on the way? "
"Ron, hush!" Kim told him, looking at their surroundings. While she knew that they were somewhere underground, she didn't know where. It looked like they were in a moderately sized conference room. They had just stepped out of two, in a bank of four, tubes. A table, surrounded by perhaps twenty chairs, sat in the center of the room. Two doors led from the room. For a moment, Kim and Ron just stood next to the tubes, wondering what to do.
"Very well, Team Possible," Dr. Director's face appeared on a large screen, which dominated one of the walls. "Won't you have a seat?"
The two teens sat at the table, which Kim now realized was set up so that anyone speaking to the room, via the screen, assumed the 'head of the table' position.
"This is a secure communications facility," the one-eyed woman explained to the teens, once they were seated. "Nobody will be able to eavesdrop on our conversation. Now, here's what Global Justice requires from you, Kim."
Kim listened, first with disbelief and then with anger, as Dr. Director explained the Seniors' 'marry Junior contest.' Ron's expression, although he tried to hide it, was getting angry, as well.
"Let me get this straight," Kim snarled at Dr. Director. "You want me to compete against other girls for the…privilege…of marrying that childish, ego on feet?"
"It would give us a way to influence his actions…" Dr. Director began to explain, only to have Kim interrupt her.
"There's no way I'm going to do this," Kim informed her, with an icy tone. "For the first thing, I have a boyfriend who's a dozen times better than Junior. Secondly, there's no way I'm going to degrade myself by…competing…over Junior. Finally, you want me to seduce Junior and I haven't even managed to seduce Ron yet, and I love him! Ooops!"
Dr. Director's visible eyebrow raised slightly at that last remark, making both Kim and Ron decidedly uncomfortable.
"I understand your reluctance, Kim," Dr. Director said, after watching the teens squirm for a few minutes. "However, this marriage doesn't necessarily involve the more physical aspects. It is intended to start out as a marriage of convenience, to be annulled or expanded as your compatibility dictates."
"In other words, a marriage with no marital relations?" Kim asked.
"Exactly."
"Still no dice," Kim insisted. "When I walk down that aisle, I intend for it to last forever. I'm not going to compete for Junior and I'm not going to get married to anybody but Ron, even if it's just on paper. Maybe it's a good thing that this sitch came up now. I understand that Global Justice places agents all over the world and that some of them are forced to adopt a morality a little more…permissive…than I'm comfortable with. I had hoped to apply to Global Justice after I graduate from college, but there are some lines I won't cross. If Global Justice expects me to do certain things, it will just be a waste of time for both of us if I apply."
"Very well, Miss Possible," Dr. Director was all business again. "However, I would now like to request Team Possible's assistance. Global Justice has another…contestant…competing in this contest. I would like Team Possible to accompany her, to insure her safety."
"Wait! I'm not understanding that one," Ron admitted. "Senior might be a crook, but he's not one to abuse his guests. If he invites her to his island, he'll make sure that no harm comes to her."
"The Seniors won't harm her," Dr. Director confirmed. "And they won't allow any lasting harm to befall her while she's on the island. However, the contest they're putting on is part pageant and part elimination tournament. The contestants will be trying to force each other off of the island. While Senior will not allow overt force, he will allow intimidation, coercion and other underhanded tactics."
"In other words," Ron quipped. "What Senior doesn't see doesn't count."
"Exactly," Dr. Director answered. "And that's why we want Team Possible to insure her safety. In addition to the contest itself, we find it very likely that some of the other contestants may attempt a power play on Senior's property. We want an asset in place to prevent either occurrence."
"Then how are you going to justify our being there," Kim asked. "The Seniors know us and they know that we're affiliated with GJ."
"We've already worked that out," Dr. Director told her. "We'll give you a full briefing when you get back to Middleton. We may also talk about the various positions within Global Justice, and the duties they include. In the meantime, enjoy the remainder of your vacation. The vacuum tubes will return you to the beach shop."
The panel went dark, leaving the teens with no choice but to return to the tubes. Moments later, they were seated at the snack counter, where a couple of iced Lattes were waiting for them. Although the beverages were tasty and refreshing, Ron noticed that Kim seemed aggravated. The teens finished the refreshments and left the shop, walking back towards their previous sunning spot.
"Uh, KP?" Ron tried to get her to talk about what was bothering her.
"What?" She snapped back.
"Hey, I just thought I'd ask what's bothering you," he told her. "I'll admit that slurping down a full glass of caffeine isn't the best way to calm down, but you seem really tweaked."
"I am," she grumbled.
"Feel like talking about it?" He asked.
"Just as soon as we get down to the surf," Kim told him. "I want plenty of wave noise to cover up our conversation."
"Do you really think someone might be listening to us?"
"I don't know," Kim muttered. "But I have a major vent coming on and I don't want to take any chances."
Soon, the teens reached the seashore. They took off their sandals and walked along the beach, sometimes walking on damp sand, sometimes walking in ankle-deep water. Ron remained silent, guessing that Kim was organizing her thoughts, or maybe regaining her composure. While he had been irritated that Global Justice had wanted his girlfriend to try to catch another guy's eye, Kim had been stewing since Dr. Director had made her request.
"Ron," Kim finally murmured, in a very small voice. "Do you think that I'm pretty?"
"Pretty?" Ron replied, incredulously. "The word is beautiful. Completely, badically, beautiful."
"I don't want to sound arrogant, but I know that I'm pretty," Kim told him. "It's not like I've ever hated being attractive. In fact, I've always kind of enjoyed turning heads, but it really bothers me when someone just looks at me and thinks that all I am is a pretty face and a nice figure."
"And this mission GJ wanted you to take…" Ron prompted.
"Made me feel exactly that way," Kim confirmed. "Ron, what's the stereotypical cheerleader? You know, the ones that are shown on movies and television shows?"
"I…uh…" Ron stammered.
"Don't worry, I'm not tweaked at you," Kim assured him. "Let me have it."
"Okay…The stereotype for a cheerleader is a bubble-headed hottie She loves to shop, dance, watch soap operas and date jocks. She takes the easiest classes through high school and will go on to college to cheer and pursue a MRS degree. Once she gets out of school, she will have a career as a trophy wife."
"That's the stereotype," Kim confirmed. "I don't think you have any idea how much I hate it when someone sees me in my uniform and assumes I'm an idiot because of it. Wade has always done a great job at filtering requests and emails, eliminating the ones sent by people more interested in the fact that I'm a hot girl than the fact that I'm a capable hero and student. Still, a few get through and they've always irritated me to no end. It's bad enough when strangers make those assumptions and requests but when Global Justice wants me to live up to the stereotype it just…..EEErrrrrgh!" Kim snarled in frustration.
The two walked in silence for a few minutes, with Kim quietly fuming. Ron wanted to reach out and put a comforting arm around her shoulders but considering the conversation's topic, he didn't know if he should. Finally, Kim was prepared to resume the discussion.
"I don't think you'll ever understand how much I've appreciated the fact that you've never thought less of me because I'm pretty, or a cheerleader, or interested in fashion," Kim told him.
"Probably as much as I've appreciated the fact that you've stuck with me, even though I was lazy, random and unmotivated," he retorted.
Kim's arm snaked out and wrapped around his waist, prompting Ron to put his arm around her shoulders.
"This is different," Kim insisted. "You've never questioned my intelligence or abilities. Okay, you always bodily put yourself between me and kitchen appliances and you always deal with the people that I just can't get along with. The fact is, me being pretty has always been sort of secondary to the way you treat me."
"I dunno, KP. You put me into hormone meltdown quite a bit."
"I like putting you into hormone meltdown," she giggled, before growing serious again. "But you've always seen me, and treated me, as much more than a pretty face and a nice figure, even before we started dating. Thanks for loving the whole me."
"Thanks for loving me, even though I'm not golden….Owww!"
Kim had strong opinions about Ron criticizing himself.
A/N: Another chapter down. Thanks for sticking with me this long, and thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for beta reading. His suggestions and corrections were indispensible.
Until my next posting, best wishes;
daccu65