Talking.
"Interesting…" Cindy said, and paused, "And after that, she becomes obsessed with contracts…and still later, obsessed with Kim Possible. It makes a great deal of sense."
"Oh?" Margaret asked. Hank also looked at the psychologist.
"How, Doctor?" He said, mind still partially in the past.
"Control" It all boils down to an ever increasing need for control." Cindy looked out the window. "And of course, the way it expressed in her, no amount of control was ever enough, because nobody—nobody, has perfect control over her life."
"Oh, that makes it all right, than." Margaret said, thinking of her daughter.
"Margaret, take this as a suggestion from a friend. Don't get snarky with me." Cindy said, in annoyance. She sighed, "Understanding does not mean giving a free pass. Lot's of people have control issues, but few of them decide to torture the source of their frustrations."
"Kim?"
"Of course—the one source she never could control, and since according to what I understand, Shego was fired by Dr. Drakken, she was also thrown back to square one."
"But to do what she did…" Hank said, still looking at them.
"Murderers come from somewhere, Hank." Cindy said quietly. "They all have in their past, some little kid discovering a bug for the first time, or asking why the stars twinkle."
"Every time we were moved, or we heard that we might be broken up…" Shelly said softly, "I'd talk to the others and then go hide so they wouldn't hear me." Sarah didn't say anything. Shelly continued.
"My worst dream, the most terrible nightmare, was that we'd be split up…" She laughed, and there was bitterness in it. "And so apparently, the first thing I did when we were finally in a position where we never would be split up was to walk away." She shook her head, "How's that for irony."
"Pretty good." Sarah said, and Shelly looked at her in surprise. "You'd be surprised at how many people have done just that—for good reasons, bad reasons, or no reason at all."
"Not many of them go on to become terrorists and torturers."
"No. Not many of them do." Sarah said. Shelly didn't like being lied to, and Sarah didn't lie to people, in any case. "And now…here you are, back at the first step."
"Well, except everyone else is older…and I…" Shelly shook her head. "I've thought about calling the GoTower." She laughed, more naturally, "Hank, you and your names. I bet the only reason it wasn't called the Hall of Justice was because someone copyrighted that name."
"Why don't you?"
"I'm afraid." Shelly said. "I don't know what I did, I don't remember it…and a lot isn't even written down. What if I did something to where they hate me? What if I just hurt them more? Shego seemed really good at hurting people, you know? After what I did to Kim and Ron… do I really have a right to even speak to my… my family?"
"Yes." Sarah said. "You're their sister. That doesn't just give you the right, but the responsibility…" She didn't mention about what Margaret had told her. They would all have to manage this carefully.
"I guess." Shelly said, doubtfully.
"So, what's on the list for tomorrow?" Sarah continued. Shelly gratefully took up the new subject.
"Well, Kim and Ron want to go out and see a new movie." She paused, "Or maybe Ron does. I don't think Return of the Zombie Cyborg Yak is quite up to Kim's standards."
"Aren't they seeing a movie tonight?" Shelly laughed.
"Yes, and that's why they're seeing another movie tomorrow. Ron's price for being seen at a chick flick." Sarah laughed, joining in with the teen. Something's never did change.
"Is she?" Hank asked. Cindy shook her head.
"Not at all like the control obsessed Shego…or even Shelly, I'd bet." Cindy paused, sipped her own tea and looked out.
"Something happened that night, Hank. Something more than just memory engrams changing, or Shego losing to Shelly. Shelly made a Choice. A choice to die rather than give into Shego." She paused, "She was brave wasn't she, when you were at the orphanage."
"The Bravest." He said, memories of long past days in his eyes.
"Ah. I thought so. It explains how Shego fell so far—to quote Lewis, you don't make demons out of bad mice… you make them out of bad Archangels. All those gifts…twisted." She shook her head. "In any case, I think that explains a lot of it—she's not acting like she's out of control because she isn't—she took control in a way she's never had it before."
"Control—from what you said, she almost committed suicide!" Hank burst out.
"No. There's a difference. She wasn't saying the world was too hard for her, whatever she thinks. Shelly was saying that her life was not worth more than her friends. Control, because whatever happened, that would remain her choice." She shrugged, "And maybe, just maybe, on the part of Shego, suicide. Once again, her quest foiled…" She shook her head, "I don't know. That's way off in the blue sky speculation territory."
"So….what do I do?" Hank asked. Looking at the two women, he appeared much younger than his pictures, a look of pleading on his face.
"What do you want to do? I warn you, if you think she should come back and be a hero again, her powers are-"
"No!" That burst out of Hank, silencing Cindy. "No." he said, quietly. "Not that." Cindy looked surprised.
"Why not?"
"You… you say that…" He stopped, and continued, "After Avarius tried to take our powers, I thought that maybe things would go back, that Sheg-Shelly would come back. She didn't." He paused again, "Everything started going wrong the moment we left the orphanage." Hank said, accepting what he'd so long wanted to deny.
"So what do you want?" Margaret asked. Hank looked down at his tea for a long moment, and Margaret almost repeated herself. Then he looked back up and she saw the tears streaking his face.
"To see my little sister again. To try to help her… if I can." Was all he said. Margaret and Cindy looked at each other.
"Then we'll help." Dr. Possible said. Cindy paused, and thought.
Saturday…Saturday afternoon. Yes, That will work.
Saturday dawned bright and early, as Kim and Ron came by to drag Shelly to the movie. There was no practice this Saturday, and so the entire day was free and clear. Monique was working at Club Banana, and Felix was going shopping.
"Want to bet "shopping" consists of hanging around waiting for her lunch break?" Kim asked. She was walking today, and right now the cane was more of a symbol than tool-- that would change in a few hours. Ron and Shelly spoke simultaneously.
"No bet." Felix and Monique, were to use her terms, GTATH, or Glued Together At The Hip.
"I'm telling you, they're…" Ron trailed off as he saw the bus.
Karl Stevens enjoyed driving the bus. Normally, he didn't on the weekday, but the third grade class had special permission to go on a day trip, so here he was, driving them to the museum. Normally, there would be a teacher, but she'd taken ill, and Karl was handling supervising.
It wasn't a problem. He had a way with children, as befitted a retired engineer who had six of his own—and a number of grandchildren. He was in fac-
A giant hand grabbed him by the chest and squeezed all the air out of his lungs.
Oh God. No. Not now… He tried to pull over, to talk, to do something…anything….
But he only slumped over the steering wheel, his feet slamming down the accelerator.
"Look out!" Ron shouted as He pulled Kim to the side, with Shelly moving fast, barely avoiding the bus as it hit the side of the building they'd been walking beside. At the last minute, it had slewed to the side, dumping a lot of the momentum, and probably, Ron bet, saving the life of the driver.
Unfortunately, Ron could hear dozens of panicked shrieks coming from the bus. He quickly ran to the emergency doors, with Kim and Shelly with him. Kim was limping slightly, but the look on her face warned him about the likely consequences of telling her to stay put. Ron opened the emergency door…and wished he hadn't. There were kids piled on top of kids—the bus may have lost momentum, but it had no seat belts, and the children had been flung around like toys. Crying, screaming, and in a few cases, ominous silence came from the figures on the floor and in the chairs.
And worse, Ron smelled the thick scent of gasoline.
Contrary to Hollywood. Gas seldom exploded in an auto wreck.
But it burned just fine.
TBC.