Brick was fine. More or less. But nothing was even broken. Only a mild concussion. He felt like shit, though. But he had played football since junior high and a few bashings wasn't going to shake him.
He and Kim had dropped off that other punk at the station. They had a medical team there who could patch him up, the bastard.
Kim Possible just hung around, almost guiltily, like the entire incident had been her fault. Heck, he was just glad she had shown up like she had done. Kim had done that whole save-the-world thing before her supposed death; it was neat to have her around. Not that he hadn't managed to do most of the dirty work himself. Well, she had been there, had helped take out that damn body to the car… why the hell had she been out at that time of night? Walking? Thinking? Near Tara Archer's house?
He didn't wonder about it too long. How dare he assume to know how people thought, people who had been through the kind of experience Kim had been through?
"Kim," he said. "I'll be fine. Go home and get some rest."
She still just paced the E.R. room while he held an icepack to the back of his head. "I still feel like I should have been there or something. I feel terrible about this."
"You're not the one who beat the crap out of me, Kim." Not that he doubted she could.
"Brick, the guy you cut you across the neck!"
"And that's a lot different than having one's throat slashed." He gingerly touched the spot on this neck. Nothing serious, but the neck was a sensitive spot, apparently. All the nurse had done was slap on some Neosporin and a bandage. All he really needed. "You can go home. Or whatever you need to do." Go back to thinking. He found the wondering coming back. What on earth had she been doing outside?
"It is late," said the nurse. Bless her little old heart. "You can leave, miss."
It took Brick a few seconds before he realized that the nurse had not recognized Kim as the famous Kim Possible. Understandable. Kim Possible was still dead to most of the free world. Hopefully that was a good thing. He did not know how the whole hero thing worked, but the girl might have an advantage if no one knew she was alive.
Kim bit her lip and looked away to no spot of the room in particular. She was a little odd that way. "Brick, are you sure you're okay?"
He forced a smile. "Are you worrying about me?"
She did not return the smile. "You were in Tara's house. This man shows up. I'm actually more involved with the case than you are. I want to know what he wanted."
"I'm going to interrogate him myself." She was right about the case. "I guess you can come along if you want."
For a moment she seemed to consider. Looked sorely tempted. He wasn't sure of whom she reminded him, but there was an odd longing on her still-skinny face. She looked utterly terrified and brave at the same time. "No," she finally said with a shake of her head that sent all her hair flying like one of those cloaks those weird gamer people would wear. "I… I have something to do."
"You sure?" Though he honestly would rather ask the questions himself.
"I'm sure. Feel better and don't die from that concussion. Bye, Brick."
"See you 'round, Kim."
Then she left.
The nurse sighed. "Glad to see she's gone."
The old woman had better not try to hit on him. "Oh, she's great, actually. Had a crush on me during high school."
"Speaking of high school," said the nurse. "You said you were at the Archer place, weren't you?"
Oh, right. Tara had worked at this hospital before her murder. "That's right, ma'am."
She sighed, and her old eyes became misty. Great. He hated crying women. "Oh, Tara. It's still too soon. She was such a nice young woman, and for her, anyone, to die like she did… it's tragic."
Brick knew that all the obvious questions had already been asked, but he heard them slipping from his mouth anyway. Well, if he wasn't going to look like the idiot show-off cop. "Do you know if Tara had any enemies?"
"Why would anyone be enemies with Tara?"
That was right. Tara had never been the type. She had never even been one of the snotty cheerleaders that had made up a good section of that old squad.
All the old high school photos. "I don't know, ma'am. Just asking the questions. But I'm sure you already have been asked them."
"Actually, none of the officers ever spoke to me. They all talked to Tara's friend Trudy up on the third floor." Her voice rose with excitement. Wow. She was all jumping to do a police interview over a murder of someone she said she had liked. Creepy.
"Did she ever mention Kim Possible?" Brick asked.
"Kim Possible?" She shook her head. "Not around me, anyway. That young lady died years ago. I read about in the papers. And in the magazines. I think they had something on the television about it."
For crying out loud, it hadn't been a political election. He almost said that out loud. And the nurse had missed the fact that Kim Possible had been right in her room.
Now she was reminiscing, leaning back against the wall as if there was no patient with a concussion in front of her. "Tara always was a sweetheart. She was going to be a great nurse. You could tell that immediately. She was simply one of those people. Why, I even remember some of the effects she had on the patients. Technically we're not supposed to get the drugged ones talking, but sometimes you can't help it. It's fun. She'd let them know about all the silly little things they ever had to say while they were under. Great girl."
Brick wanted to roll his eyes, but that would have just been rude. He had some punk to question. "I think I can head out now."
"Just remember to have someone watch your concussion."
Not a problem. He didn't intend on going to sleep tonight.
The other officers had found a wallet in the guy's back pocket. His name was Daniel Sprague and he had graduated from Middleton High the year before. And had apparently not pursued any other education. He sat in his cell, head against the wall, looking utterly bored rather than miserable. He didn't even look up when Brick walked inside. "I was sort of hoping I would have killed you."
"You're an idiot with a pocket knife," Brick reminded him. Why couldn't people realize they were idiots? "What was going on in that house?"
"I could ask you the same question. I heard those others guys talking. You weren't supposed to be in there."
"They like me," Brick replied calmly. That was always a good thing, being popular. "I was the football star back in the day."
"I hated the football team. They stuck my head in the toilet."
Brick had only done that on two occasions. Nothing personal, it was just kind of a fun thing to do. "What were you looking for in there?"
Daniel said nothing.
One of the other officers was outside, eating a donut, of all the cliché things to do. "Hey, Tony!" Brick called. "Did you get anything out of him?" They were all pushy enough that they would get to it immediately.
"We were actually waiting for you to do it," Tony called back.
Great. Of all the times to be thoughtful. Brick sighed and turned back to Daniel. "Did you kill Tara Archer?"
"No."
"Do you know who did?"
"No." He really did not seem to be fighting much of this chat.
Brick decided to work with that. Here they were, the stereotypical cell, cop versus psychotic killer in a hoodie. He could make this work. He could make it work more if his head wasn't killing him, but that was beside the point. "Who are you working for?"
"I actually don't know."
"You're being honest. And vague."
"Maybe I can see that I have been caught."
"Then you could possibly answer questions a little more specifically."
"I don't want to."
Brick felt like hitting him. "Is there anything you feel like telling me?" For some reason he couldn't quite get himself into the desired role of bad cop.
Daniel thought for a moment, lips curled out in typical teenage moodiness. Then his eyes brightened. "I'll just let you know that Tara Archer knew far too much. The usual thing." Then his fingernails picked sharply at the threads of his hoodie.
Brick had the distinct impression that something not good was going on, but it was as if he were watching in slow motion with a heck of a lot of confusion.
The hoodie tore and out popped a small round pink pill. Daniel popped it into his mouth.
Brick swore and grabbed for Daniel.
But Daniel's eyes sparkled as his mouth curved into a smile, a trickle of blood at the corner, bright against his already-dead face.
Ron wasn't quite sure what the subject of his dream had been, but it had been incongruous with the sound of something pelting against his dorm window. He slowly opened his eyes, wondering if it was that psychotic kid down the hall again sleepwalking and eating cereal.
It was nearly 6:00 in the morning. Almost time to get up, sadly enough. But he was so comfy!
And the sound against the window was continuing. He sat up, shook away the dizziness, as something tiny appeared and disappeared out of the corner of his eye. The window.
Another pellet whizzed up to strike the glass.
Like bullets. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. No more nightmares. No more damn nightmares. Just rocks against the window. He climbed from the bed and opened the window. If it shattered, he knew he'd be paying for it. And if it were for the crazy kid down the hall he would scream and maybe chuck out one of those heavy textbooks he had.
"Okay, okay, the entire building can pretty much hear you so…" He looked down.
It was Kim. Standing in the moonlight, hair everywhere, frowning up at him.
His heart gave a jolt and zipped him back into what had to be his dream. Kim dead all over again.
"Kim," he called down—amazing that his voice was working. "Weren't you…? Aren't you supposed to be in Middleton? Or Wyoming?"
"It's been a long night, Ron." She didn't look happy.
He sighed. This was probably a bad idea… no, no it was not a bad idea. Why should it be a bad idea? He was just going down to talk to Kim. In his underwear. Oh, well. He grabbed a jacket from the closet and headed down.
She wasn't wearing a jacket. Just a t-shirt and jeans, both fitting her a little too big. She was ridiculously skinny, her arms folded around her for warmth.
"Here, Kim, take my jacket." He whipped it off and forced it around her shoulders. If anyone saw, screw them. This campus had seen more bizarre sights.
"Thanks," she muttered. "Sorry to wake up this late. Or early."
"I'd be crawling out of bed in half an hour, anyway so…" He shivered. It was chilly, especially bare-skinned.
"Mm." She nodded.
This was most definitely awkward. "So… I'm glad to see you, Kim. What brings you out to Upperton?"
"I wanted to ask you a question."
Questions. He felt sick. There were a hundred questions she could ask. "And?"
She shrugged. "I'm not even really sure what to ask."
"You were always wordy, Kim. Just ask it." Please do not be about the wedding or Monique. Please do not be about the wedding or Monique. He just did not want to talk about it.
"Do you know how to get in touch with Wade?"
Not the question he had been expecting. He hadn't even thought much about Wade in years. "Kim, I already told you that I hadn't seen him since the funeral."
"Yeah, I know. But I still thought you might have a… is he still living at the same place?"
"How would I know?" Maybe a different question would have been better. "Why?" The obvious. Probably just to say hello, I'm alive.
"That's the part I really don't know how to say." Breeze whipped through her hair. She needed to have it cut. Wow, he had been hanging around the stylish words of Monique too long.
"Just say it."
"I think Wade may have set me up."
For one tiny second Ron burst out laughing, a cut thing that he quickly silenced when he saw the tears in her eyes. Not good. "Kim, are you sure you're just not still a little loopy from…" Great. Where was his tact? "That's crazy."
"I know," she whispered. "It's just that Shego found some things…"
"Why would Wade try and kill you? Or get you locked up?"
She shrugged.
Ron sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "I… I suppose I could look into this. But it sounds insane."
"My life was stolen from me, Ron." She didn't even meet his eyes, just stared at the ground as if it were the most fascinating thing to come along in some time. The caretaker barely even mowed the lawn. "Everything I cared about is gone. You. I don't even know what to think anymore. If I find whoever was responsible, Ron… I…" She shook, the tears returning with strength. "If I find them, I think I would kill them."
Kim would never kill anyone. "Kim, don't say that."
The sobs started. She fell into his bare shoulder, her tears hot against his skin. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around her. She felt so light, like a kid.
What had they done to her?
He suddenly realized that whoever "they" were, he would probably kill them, too.
She finally pushed away, sniffing. "Just… see if you can find him. I just want to ask him. He'd know. He'd help."
It was still insane. "Sure thing."
Then it happened, through no effort on his part.
She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him. It burned. It was like their first kiss all over again, the one with that whole moodulator incident.
And for one terrible moment, he kissed back without meaning to.
