Kim wakes up and her mouth is dry. She wakes up and she still feels asleep. She wakes up and she's in a hospital bed watching a news report about herself.

Not for the first time. It's just been a minute since anyone gave a fuck about Kim Possible.

She has a hard time understanding what they're saying, but it seems to her that they're trying to paint Kimberly Ann Possible, washed up teen hero, as a cold blooded killer. Her stomach churns. She really fucked that up. At least she's alive.

Whenever she blinks, she sees the open skull leaking out organs and staring back at her. She won't ever forget.

The television shuts off and someone stands up, the top of his head rising to her field of vision. He steps forward and she struggles to look him in the eye. Agent Will Du. He drags a chair behind him and takes a seat besides Kim, looking at her hard.

Kim sinks deeper into her pillow. She's in a loose hospital gown, connected to a ton of different machines, her right leg held up in some kind of splint. Her jaw still hurts too.

He doesn't say anything, and it gives her enough time to slowly crane her neck over to look at him. It doesn't hurt, but that's probably because it hurts so much she just feels nothing. She wishes Shego were here.

"Hi," she rasps. "You taking me in?"

Will frowns. "No, that would be a bitch move. I am the agent assigned to your case, however."

That hurts her head. "Why aren't the police…"

"Doctor Director has, uh, an interest in you, Possible," Will tilts his head to the side, looking at her curiously. "It's overriding much of standard procedure. But I don't want you to be afraid of me, okay?"

"Why." She doesn't trust Will. He's a career minded ghoul who would backstab at a moment's notice she bets.

Will cracks a grin that folds wrinkles into his high cheeks. "You did me a favor at Global Justice a few weeks ago, remember?"

She does. "What. All I did was… I replaced you because—"

"Shhh," he coos. "I figured it out, the, uh, other thing , that you did while at Global Justice and since I found out what you prevented from happening, I've been looking for a way out. You're lucky I'm the one assigned to you, Possible. I already drew up a report on what happened. You'll be safe."

He holds up a manilla folder and she furrows her brow. This is all really fast. Her head hurts, that's the only pain she can comprehend, and it's hard to follow along with anything he's saying, but he seems at least somewhat genuine.

"The story is that you were lured into the warehouse by your former foe, Salvatore Cagan. You aren't doing any kind of agent work after all..." Kim still doesn't remember who Cagan is or why he hated her so much.

No, not is . Was. He's wormfood now. Fuck.

"You were ambushed and fought back, but Salvatore got the drop on you. Obviously, you couldn't hold your own, so you killed him in self-defense. Which I think is more or less the truth," Will cocks his head to the left, looking down at her. "If asked, that's all you need to say. Media is sensationalizing the story right now, it's possible you'll be asked to interview."

Kim groans and turns away. She should be in pain right now, but she's just numb, probably zonked out on painkillers.

"There's two things I need to mention though," Will continues, pulling a plastic baggie out of a briefcase. It's her gun and the busted up radio. "I checked the records and you do not currently have a license to carry. You'll need to get that to continue working for who I think you're working for."

She opens her mouth, and then closes it. Best to just go along with it and not say anything when he's helping her like this.

"Maybe get some training on how to use one too," Will says, so emotionally distant. "Other problem is this busted radio. It's pretty blatant you were in contact with someone. If that comes out, you're fucked, because you no longer look so defenseless. I'd advise your, uh, people , to be more discreet with this sort of thing. This is damning. No one can trace it, but it's still evidence."

Kim's eyes go a little dim and she focuses on the fluorescent lighting. "Is the bullet still in my stomach."

It's hard for her to speak with any kind of emotion like this.

"Right, I'm sorry. Medical stuff, the doctors briefed me."

She braces herself for the worst.

"You'll be okay," Will says quickly, "You're lucky, the biggest problem is your jaw. It's not broken but—you're going to need to give it some time to heal. Uh, the doctors can give you more info on that."

"The bullet?" she asks dimly.

"Still in there, it's not killing you to have it, but you lost a lot of blood. They're guessing you're going to need to stay here for two weeks."

"Two weeks?" she groans under her breath. "Fuck me in the asshole."

"Yeah, it's not fun," he says listlessly. "I'd recommend avoiding any kind of field work until the end of the year at least. It's not worth it, especially if you're doing jobs like that ."

She presses her teeth together, and it probably doesn't do her jaw any good but she's angry. It's not fair for her to get mad at him but… "They aren't all like that."

Will blinks. "Sorry, I overstepped."

"You did," she hisses, leaning farther back. "It's okay, I'm really thankful you're—" she coughs. "—helping me. I know you don't have to."

She can't see him anymore from where she lays down, but she can hear his voice soften. "I owe you, a lot of agents owe you in fact. So—if I can ever help you again—I will, Kim. I'm serious."

She chuckles, even though it hurts her ribs. "I never saw you as the type to turncoat like this."

"I never saw Betty as the type to—well—" condition soldiers . "—y'know. Whatever it is you do next, I don't have to tell you twice, but you're seriously lucky to be alive with injuries like this—"

"No," Kim interrupts, rasping like a chain smoker. "I'm not lucky to be alive, I fucking fought for this."

His expression softens again and he whispers, "Yes, good soldier," then continues you into his cold, emotionally distant explanation, "The media has an eye on you. You can make an airtight alibi, but people won't believe you. People want Kim Possible back, but they simultaneously don't want a Kim Possible that kills."

Yeah. She figured. Back when Ron was almost certainly disappearing people during the gap year, that was Kim's most selfish concern. People see her, or saw her—whatever honestly—as America's sweetheart. They romanticized her, but if they knew the real Kim. Alcoholic, gun toting, mercenary Kim Possible. Well, they'd hate her guts.

And people always want to feel something . They always need to have a take.

"Hey," she rasps, turning slightly to look at him. "You're a good person."

He allows himself a small smile. "I know." Okay, now he's being smug. "Take care. I'd offer you my number, but with me on your case—"

"—I get it."

"...of course you do, right," he sighs.

Will finally leaves her, and though her energy is starting to come back to her already, she doesn't want to stay awake. That would mean she'd have to think, and there's only one thing she can think about. So she wills herself to sleep.

Five days in, Kim gets her first visitor, and it's not anyone she expected.

"Oof, sorry to startle you," Dr. Drakken panics, taking a seat besides her. She's in a cold sweat and he's wrapping his hand around hers, which sort of scares her more.

It's lights out and obviously no visitors are expected. She was asleep like five seconds ago, and it kinda pisses her off to be awake because it took her nearly three hours to finally zonk out.

Kim wants to yell at him but 1.) she doesn't have the energy for that and 2.) Drakken is her boss now. So.

She wishes it were Shego though. She misses her so fucking much. Why isn't she here?

"Um, sorry, I—I really had no other way to see you other than this," Drakken explains quietly. "It's very complicated getting agents in and out and—"

"Shego," Kim rasps weakly. "Where."

"—ah, she's, um… she's working. She told me she misses you too, and the second she can she'll be there."

Kim blinks, not really sure what any of this is about. "You're pissed at me, aren't you?" she croaks. "I fucked up."

Drakken makes a face and looks away, shaking his head. "You think so little of me, don't you?" He sighs, and his sigh drags through his mouth like an old comb, really expressing his age. "I'm—I feel responsible, Kimberly Ann. Technically, I'm really not supposed to… be here, as Big "Big" Daddy, I must be elusive but—nyergh."

It's endearing how awkward he is sometimes.

"Sorry, I'm bitchy," she groans. "You're not supposed to adopt your partners in crime either, but hey, here you are."

Drakken winces before giving into a smile. "Ah, she told you, didn't she? Yes, I've been Shego's father since before you even met her… and I'm vaguely aware of um, you—nyeh, courting her."

Kim coughs and reaches over for some water. Drakken notices and gives the cup to her; she hates things being handed to her like that, makes her feel feeble, but honestly it saves her a lot of energy. "Thanks," she rasps. "I'm not leaving the Bermuda Triangle, you know—if um, that's what you're here for."

"I know you won't," he neatly folds his hands into his lap and looks away, like a birdwatcher at the park might. "You have a strong sense of justice that guides you, Kimberly Ann. I'm expecting you'll hang around here for some time." He presses his lips together. "This is going to be your first time here though."

Yeah, she figured that already. Better get used to mind numbing pain.

Something else is on his mind, she just doesn't know what, or if it's worth the mental energy to pry.

"It's not your fault," that's Kim's best stab at it. "I did it to myself, I should've… I should've killed that bastard when I had a chance."

Drakken raises an eyebrow, looking at her oh so curiously. "It's probably not… healthy to chastise yourself for not killing."

"Ha," she laughs weakly. "I guess you're right."

"Of course I am, I'm very smart," he chuckles.

Then they just sit there together for a while, not saying anything. He swings his foot back and forth like a child might, and she just lays there. It's fascinating to her that this is who Drakken turned into, and that a 'mob boss' would ever visit one of her people like this.

It almost makes her more angry that no one is mad at her, or blaming her. Because she fucked up the job and nearly blew the whole operation sky high.

She can't even bring that up though, if she does, people will just get mad at her for her self-loathing. They'll hand her water, tell her what they think she needs to hear, and tuck her in. If she's in a wheelchair, they'll push her. They'll lay over for her because she's name brand Kim Possible.

She falls asleep at some point and when she wakes up the next day, she's resentful of how well she slept.

She's a murderer. Murderers don't deserve sleep, right?

She doesn't know. She doesn't know anything anymore. She needs to cry, she thinks, but she's too weak to even bother.

It takes a week and a half, towards the end of her stay, but Kim's parents come to her. She actually asked them not to come, and not to worry about her. She says it's really not that bad, but her parents know better; this is easily the most damage Kim has ever taken from any one of her missions. Her parents know that, Kim knows they know that, and of course they aren't going to listen. It's their first time being with her in New York actually, though not under the best conditions.

Kim tells herself to be strong for her parents. Because they know the damning truth of what really happened, and they know that without intervention, it will keep happening. She's really in the big leagues now.

But the second Kim meets her mom's eyes, she can't do it, can't tell them it's fine. She bursts into tears, rocking against the bed, nearly dislodging one of the tubes going into her arm. Mom holds Kim back by the chest and gently rubs her back while Kim lets it all out. Kim grabs mom's jacket and pulls her in, keeping her close.

"Please don't go back, Kimmie," her mom begs her, crying too. "You've done enough."

Protests bubble at Kim's mouth, words she can't say. Words like No, I haven't done enough. and I deserve this.

No one else really says anything, it's just Kim and her mom sobbing in each other's arms.

Her dad hands Kim her Pandaroo, and unfolds her old blanket she used to have back in high school. He lays it out over the hospital bed, tucking it in for her, squeezing the silly looking plush besides her. Kim knows this was Dad's idea but he's not going to admit to it, he just smiles at her proudly.

They're going to stay the week in an Airnbnb before heading back to Middleton. Kim gets let out in four days so she can enjoy some time with the rents before they peace out. She doesn't know yet if they're going to let her walk on her own, or if she'll be asked to take a wheelchair out.

The thing that Kim hates the most about all of this is the pain. She hurts so much. But only sometimes. Some days she's just numb, this day though is Hell. She's been beaten before but not like that. Every punch, every kick, that bastard meant it. He wanted Kim to scream for whatever it is she did to him. It was pure, adulterated loathing. Loathing Kim didn't know human beings were capable of.

And it makes her feel kind of happy she shot him through the fucking skull. She doesn't want to feel happy about being a murderer. But thank God he'll never hurt anyone again. Killing was the only answer.

She needs to get that stupid license to carry though. She needs to learn how to shoot.

So she can kill more people.

Kim gently heaves herself into her own bed finally. She's so fucking tired. Day out with the parents. She really didn't want to use the wheelchair, but she needed it after a while. It was nice, like, showing her family around the area, letting them into her life like that. She showed them her local grocery store, it's this cheap Armenian market. She also showed them her library, her campus, her everything. And she talked. She talked and actually laughed so much that her mouth hurt at the end of it.

The only thing she really didn't like was the amount of times people snuck pictures of her. It's been so long since people gave a shit about her, and now they stare at her like they want her to perform for them. At least there's no hazing.

Her parents don't get to meet the roommates. Kim politely requested that they do that on Sunday, she just needed to pass the fuck out.

And man is it quiet when she comes in. Some of the girls greet her, but don't really look at her. Great. They're fucking afraid of her, awesome.

Kim clenches her fists and trudges on.

When she settles into bed, she's too tired to even pull the blankets over. She just lays there, exhausted, breathing hard. Erica's taking a shower or something, she's sure Erica will be okay to talk to. To kill some time, Kim checks her phone. She hasn't looked at it in a week and—

—oof. First post on social media she finds is you know it's a bad year when even kim possible is killing people.

There's more shit like that, more memes about Kim Possible shooting someone. Haha, postironic culture, it's so funny to make fun of Kim, she's sure all those people are super happy with their own lives.

Everyone is so detached from reality that they can't see anyone else's pain. She shuts her phone off and sets it down on her desk, and stares at the ceiling.

She wonders if she's supposed to reach out to Hank and Shego, or if they'll come to her. She does get the feeling that Hank is doing something to help her, because no one has asked her to do any kind of interviews surprisingly.

Erica steps in, and jumps with surprise. "Oh! Kim, uh, h-how are you?"

Kim tilts her head to look at her friend, and then rolls onto her elbow. "No one from the press is bothering you guys, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like interviews and stuff, I'm sure people know I live here by now," Kim shrugs. "I'm sorry if anyone does bother you."

Erica nods and gives her a Do you need to talk about it? kinda look but she doesn't say anything. She seems to have a hard time making eye contact. "I'll just say don't check your phone."

"Too late," Kim fights really hard to make a smile, but it doesn't read apparently.

Erica nods and climbs into bed.

Obviously Erica doesn't want to talk. Kim rolls onto her back and returns to just staring at the ceiling, waiting for something to happen or for her to fall asleep.

Something does happen eventually. "Kim. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to…"

Kim sighs. She kinda feels like a bitch because while she definitely wants to talk about if, she also wants to pretend it never happened. "What's up?"

"...did you really have to… ya know?"

"Yes," Kim says darkly. She'd look at Erica, but that might make it scarier. She knows people are already afraid of her. "I really did."

"I trust you," Erica says softly, voice still dangling. "I just didn't know that you did that sort of thing, shit, I'm being judgmental towards you, I don't mean to—"

"It's fine," Kim interrupts, kicking her feet out. She hesitates, biting down on her grief. "I didn't know I did that sort of thing either."