Tara Archer. Kim groaned and put a hand to her head. "She was murdered? Tara?" She still did not feel much emotion, but there was a stinging emptiness reminding her that she should be feeling something. "Cute little Tara?"

Brick nodded. "Yeah, that would be her. She was always a sweetheart, wasn't she?"

"Yeah, she was." She had always liked Tara. Not the brightest crayon in the box, but no one could say that Tara was anything less than an angel. At least to Kim's knowledge. And the girl had gone on to become a nurse, of all things. A nurse. What sort of sick bastard killed nurses? "Brick, what happened?"

"I don't know if I should say anything. You're kinda looking green."

That was probably true, but who cared? "Brick, just tell me."

He sighed for the unwilling effect, but she thought she saw a grin hiding somewhere in that face. Boys. They always liked the gross stuff. Blood and gore and they were happy. "Her skull had been bashed in. By a toaster, of all things. Oh, and she had been decapitated."

Kim's empty stomach lurched, and she leaned forward, gasping. "You're kidding!"

"I'm dead serious."

Well, he had been smiling but… no, he was serious. She could see the entire image in her head. Tara in a generic living room, still wearing her Middleton uniform. With her head cut off. Blood soaked the Persian rug that Tara probably did not own.

"Kim?" Brick's voice sounded distant. "Whoa. Are you okay? Can I get you some water?"

She shook her head. Ironic that she had to walk back into Middleton in the middle of this.

"Look, I just don't want you being sick all over the station. You really don't look so hot right now."

She sucked in fresh air and sat up. Red swam over her eyes. "I think I'll be okay. I guess I should have believed you about the… yuckiness."

"I think that would have been good. But I guess that if you were friends with her that you should know. No one really called you… you being dead and all…" He sighed. "Are you sure you're not a clone? Because if I'm not locking up an evil clone I don't think I could live with myself."

Could he not shut up about the clone thing? "Maybe I could use some water."

"Okay." He stood up.

At the same time the door opened, a little bell ringing as it did. How cheesy. A greeting from the receptionist lady. "Hi, we're the Possibles. Officer Flagg asked us to come down."

Darn it, she couldn't look over there! She tried and she couldn't. She grabbed for Brick's leg—he hadn't managed to leave for water.

"Mr. and Mrs. Possible." His voice wavered.

Kim felt a sob rising in her throat. She swallowed it and looked up just as her parents walked around the receptionist's desk.

It was like a movie scene where the sound people had decided not to edit anything in.

She jumped to her feet, blanket still around her shoulders.

And then they stared at each other.

They looked the same, more or less. No, they looked exactly the same except for a few differences that didn't matter. Her mom's hairstyle was different. Was it the latest fashion? Her dad had a little more gray, some wrinkles… She had forgotten what good-looking parents she had. If only they didn't look so confused.

Finally, Brick broke the silence. "I don't think she's an evil clone."

Apparently his word was plenty. Her mother gave a sputtering sob and raced forward, catching Kim and muttering something Kim didn't quite understand.

"This isn't a joke, is it?" Her father. "Officer Flagg, this isn't a joke." It was not a question, it was a demand.

"You'll have to ask Kim about the details," Brick replied. "I'm still lost."

Kim barely heard that conversation, though it rang enough in her ears. She hugged her mom back, not sure if she was crying or not. She felt like she was on fire.

Then there was another body in the hug, her father, kissing her forehead over and over again like she were a little girl again. "Kimmie cub, oh my gosh, is it you?"

She nodded. "Yes, Daddy."

"But you were dead, Kimmie. You were murdered!"

He couldn't go to the clone theory! "Dad, that wasn't me! That was not me! I was captured and…"

"What did I give you for your fourth birthday?" His voice was a mix of fury and tears.

What the…? Couldn't he just accept it? "Dad, I have no idea what you gave me."

"James, it's her," her mother said. "I know it is. Kim, when where the twins born?"

Ugh, not her, too. Yet somehow she didn't mind. At least they were smart enough to worry about this. "August 13, 1995."

"What's your favorite CuddleBuddy?"

She smiled. "Panda-Roo."

"What did you call your brothers?" her father demanded.

The questions went on and on in a flurry of words and emotions, just like the hug. It was like they were just trying to confirm what they already knew.

It was wonderful.


The stupid phone was ringing again. And it was buried somewhere under a mountain of homework and blueprints. What moron had decided that all new technology had to be pathetically tiny? Cell phones were getting smaller and smaller by the minute. And Ron really now wished he had not selected the theme song from The Fearless Ferret as his ring tone. Monique was right; it was an obnoxious song.

Rufus poked his head from behind the laptop. Looked like he had just awoken from a nap. The phone had woken up the poor little guy.

"Rufus," Ron said. "Can you find it? I left it on that desk, I thought."

The music continued. Whoever it was didn't plan on leaving a message. Ron pushed aside the random box of parts he had bought earlier. Still no phone. Man, but this dorm room was getting crowded! He had figured it was best to go cheap and put all the extra money toward the wedding and the house, but it was getting ridiculous.

He went over the desk again, spilling papers and last semester's weird little gadget onto the floor. There was that book. The one he had lost two semesters ago. Good grief. The basic introduction to Upperton University's mechanical engineering master's program. He could have sold that to a newbie for bank!

Well, too late. He shoved the book away into a pile of Bueno Nacho garbage. "Why don't they just leave a message and hang up?"

Rufus emerged from a pile of blue prints, happily displaying the cell phone. Still playing that awful song. He was going to have to give up The Fearless Ferret.

"Thanks, Rufus!" Ron called. He tried to leap over the new mess floor, but his foot caught in the end. Ouch. It had better not be a wrong number.

Rufus dropped the phone into his hand. Good enough. He hit the 'talk' button. "Hello?"

"Ronald! Took you long enough to answer."

Ron grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, Mr, Possible. Too small of a dorm, too much stuff."

Mr. Possible gave a chuckle that sounded oddly forced. "Yeah, I know that feeling. You're talking to the original scientist here… listen, Ronald, there's a reason I'm calling."

"Really?" Ron sat up in the only spot of carpet left on the floor. The Possibles rarely just called with a reason. They just… called, because that's what people who cared about each other did. But a reason… should he be worried?

Mr. Possible didn't say anything for a long time.

"Mr. P?"

Finally, he sighed. "Ronald, there's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to say it. Kim's alive. She's right here."

The phone dropped right back into the mess.