A man in black body armor with a hood over his face stands poised on a steel beam. Stage lights hang from the beam, illuminating the stage below where an opera unfolds. Swords clash while performers sing their high notes. But the man in black doesn't have eyes for these people. He waits on the beam, waiting for something…

Click.

The beam, suspended by chains, starts lowering itself towards the stage, the lights getting hotter and hotter.

Opera House: Washington DC November 2: 10:51PM

The man in black reaches into his backpack and pulls out a long sniper rifle. He sets up his shot. Target is a balding old man in a suit, hardly watching the opera, his mind somewhere else. President Brownstone. He sits in one of the box seats, surrounded by special agents. Brownstone checks his watch while the man in black sets his sights on Brownstone's round head.

A gloved finger itches towards the trigger… he just needs the beam to stop moving, and then he can—

Agent Will Du, dressed in a white tuxedo, crashes down from above, body slamming the assassin flat. The gun falls from his hands and down to the stage below, where it lands between two sword fighting Pavorattis. Screams from the audience and the performers. The beam rocks back-and-forth dangerously, the hot lights swaying along.

Will takes a kick to the stomach, grits his teeth, and stretches a chord between his wrists. He brings it over the assassin's neck. Will jabs a knee into the assassin's back and pulls back hard on the chord, squeezing the man's neck, cutting off his airflow. The assassin faints quickly, his body sagging. Will releases the chord, the tension in his body briefly leaving him as he sighs with relief. He looks up at the audience, smiling… only for his smile to fade fast. He sees a glint of black cut through the audience. Another black figure, racing to the President's box.

Will claps a hand to his earpiece. "Stoppable. Second level, sixth row. He's a runner, it's gotta be you."

Ron jolts upright on the third level, disturbing his seat buddies. "Agent Stoppable is en route!"

Dressed in a tuxedo with a bright red bowtie, he sets down his opera glasses and runs to the edge of the balcony. He closes his eyes, backs up, and sprints ahead. He jumps off the ledge, kickstarting more screams. "Heh. Was that cool?" he asks mid flight.

"What do you think?" Will asks snidely.

"Well, like, that's just your opinion, man."

Ron braces himself and lands in the mezzanine. He keeps a light jog going down the aisle, checking the letters engraved on the side of each row. He claps a hand to his earpiece. "Uh, Will, what letter is six?" he asks in distress.

"Stoppable!" Will shouts in exasperation. "Just get the guy running with the gun!"

"Oh!" Ron cries out. "Yeah, I'll—"

Thump!

The fleeing black figure bashes up against Ron, knocking him backwards. Ron blinks twice, his mind taking some time to catch up. He realizes who his target is and gives chase.

He taps into his power and becomes a blur of motion. It pains him to not utter "Mystical Monkey Momentum!" as he speeds along, but alas, part of working with Will is practicing restraint.

Ron rounds a bend and turns into a curved hallway. The speedster slows back to his mortal momentum, landing directly behind the assassin. He pounces onto their back. The assassin stumbles in place, his weight thrown. He reaches backwards, grabs Ron, and uses the boy's leftover momentum to hurl him off. Ron hits the carpeted floor at a roll. He flips upright, facing the assassin.

They draw at the same time; the assassin draws his gun as Ron flicks his finger, firing a pinprick of blue light. The light is faster and burns the assassin's hand. His wrist twitches, and he drops the gun.

"Ha!" Ron laughs. "That's Mystical Monkey Munitions for ya!"

"Stoppable, what did we say about catchphrases?" Will sighs.

"I'm winning, so what?" Ron brags. Blue magic rolls off his skinny limbs. He dives and tackles the assassin flat to the floor. "Mystical Monkey Muscle!"

Ron rolls off the assassin's body, tearing the man's helmet off as he goes, revealing a plain faced white man with a round nose. Ron lands on his feet. Whips around as the assassin gets back up. Ron smirks and goes for a spinning roundhouse kick to the jaw.

Bam!

The assassin hits the floor… just as the President rounds the corner ahead. He's tailed by an entourage of Secret Service members and bodyguards, all of them begging Brownstone to go back to his seat.

Ron waves to the President. "Heya Brownie!"

Unbeknownst to him, the assassin, flat on his back, fishes out another gun. Lines it up against his stomach, aims at the President, and—

Ron notices too late and lunges forward—

Blue energy explodes from Ron's chest and spreads everywhere, tingeing everything a faint blue as it all shifts into slow motion. He moves so quickly now that reality warps around him.

Ron blinks rapidly, trying to make sense of what he's seeing: the bullet lazily drifting through the air, the President slowly lurching backwards, and the guards inching ahead to take the blow. But they won't be able to make it in time, the bullet is too close.

Can he make it in time? Well, ain't no time like the present. He charges ahead.

It's his fault, he figures. He got cocky and let the assassin get away with it. If Kim was here, it wouldn't have happened. She wouldn't have let him let his guard down. Sure, she was annoying and overbearing, but she always had his back.

And how did he repay her for everything she's done for him?

Ron frowns, his mind turning inward. Little explosions go off around him, cutting holes into his aura that's consumed the entire opera house. The holes open slowly, the aura becoming more and more unstable. It crackles loudly. Ron goes pale in the face and takes one big step forward. Then another. He dives at the President, the bullet drifting closer by the microsecond. Too close.

Ron winces and shoves himself between the bullet and the President—

Ron's aura dissipates with his focus, and he takes a bullet right in the chest. He slumps against the President, who catches Ron. Immediately, a blue glow lights up in the bullet wound. Two tiny tendrils pluck the bullet free and push it out of his flesh. Ron wheezes as the Mystical Monkey Medicine surgically patches up the wound.

The assassin readjusts his sights, only to be met with a solid wall of guards. It's over for him.

"President Brownstone," one of the President's handlers says. "Are you alright?"

Ron turns his head and looks to the balcony where the President and his Posse were seated. From here, Ron can see Will balancing on the steel beam. Will flashes him a thumbs up.

Ron opens his mouth to say something when—

The President releases him and turns to the guard. "I'm fine, thank you."

With no support, a dazed Ron faceplants into the floor.


A hatch opens in a military aircraft. First comes Agent Will Du. He climbs up from what appears to be a very long cable and stops immediately at the entrance. He disarms himself quickly, placing his heavy artillery onto the holsters on the wall.

Next comes Agent Ron Stoppable. He slouches after Will, complaining. "This whole Ron isn't allowed to use guns thing is making me feel super excluded."

Global Justice Aircraft: Over Washington DC November 2: 11:23PM

"You have Mystical Monkey Magic, you're fine," Will says, annoyed as he is wont to be. "Stop complaining. Besides, I doubt you could have pulled a gun on the assassin anyways."

Ron gulps. "Okay, maybe not so much. But you know me, my powers aren't one hundred percent all the time."

Will raises an eyebrow. "Ah, you're referring to the light show that happened as you took a bullet for the President. Well done, by the way. No one will fault you now for letting the second shot go off, Mr. Hero. Anyways, that was your powers on the fritz again?"

Ron winces. "Yeah."

An accusatory look from Will. "You were thinking about her again, weren't you?" He observes Ron for a moment then shakes his head. "You need to let her go. It's like you said, she didn't just betray you, she betrayed herself. Prison will help. Or at least, it's supposed to."

Ron wilts.

Will presses his lips together. Jerks his head back. "Come on."

Ron follows Will across the aircraft. An agent comes out of an exit with two steaming trays of food. It's steak covered with a lump of gravy that leaks onto the baby carrots. Besides that is a tumblr of Soylent. The two boys take their trays and squeeze themselves onto a bench lined up against the wall to dig in. Will starts before Ron. Ron hangs back, staring glumly at his meal before starting.

"You know," Ron says. "Just because Betty is a Soylent freak doesn't mean we all need to be."

"Rule #1 at Global Justice," Will sighs. "Don't call her Betty."

"Yeah, uh-huh," Ron sighs. An idea strikes him, and he smirks. "Well, do you know what would make these post-mission briefings even better?"

"Oh, you're about to say something insufferable, aren't you?" Will scoffs.

"That I is!" Ron cheers.

" Am . Whatever."

Ron crosses his arms at his chest and gets smug. "Fast food."

Will sighs in deep aggravation, though it's theatrical and even somewhat affectionate. "You are a broken record. I want nachos! Look at me look at me! Where are my nachos? Hey, look how many I can fit in my mouth! "

Ron frowns. "Uh, dude. They're called nacos. Hard C. I would know, I invented them."

Will is taken aback. "Aren't they on the menu?"

"Uh, yeah!" Ron brags. "Bueno Nacho themselves cut me a ninety-nine million dollar check for the concept."

Will's eyebrows go way high. "Wait, you're a millionaire?"

Ron spaces out for a moment, imagining big bags of money. Then he comes to. "Lost it all. Like… comically fast."

Will nods. "Uh-huh," he says with a growing smile.

"Anyways," Ron continues. "The food? Nutritious, but man, it really reminds me of the Middleton High cafeteria, and for the uninitiated it was gross ."

An older woman with beady eyes and gray hair tied back in a hairnet appears from around the corner. She scowls directly at Ron.

Ron double takes. Nearly knocks his tray over. "You're the Cafeteria Lady! Wait—you work at Global Justice?!"

The Cafeteria Lady shakes her head angrily. "Fuck. You."

Ron nearly jumps. "Whoa!" He looks at Will. "Can she say that?"

"Yeah!" the Cafeteria Lady says before slinking away. "You ain't in high school anymore, kiddo."

Ron looks to Will for help.

Will chuckles in a teasing way. "You might need to bring your lunch from now on."

Ron slumps in his seat. "Aw man. Yeah, punish the guy with ten thousand different ways to use his Mystical Monkey Magic, COME ON!"

An agent steps in through a doorway, an envelope in hand. "Agent Stopstop—"

Ron sighs. "Please don't call me that."

"—a letter," the agent finishes smarmily, handing the envelope off before walking away.

Ron reads the signee. Gets excited. "Hey! It's Dr. Mister and Missus P! I haven't seen them since—" He realizes. Repeats what he just said with dread. "Oh. It's Dr. Mister and Missus P. I haven't seen them since… Kim's trial, yikes."

He looks at Will, whose expression is unreadable. Ron wishes Will would just give him some kind of tell, some kind of instruction on what to do with this letter, but instead Will patiently watches Ron with curiosity. Ron starts to tilt the envelope towards the trash can beside their bench.

Will grabs Ron's arm. Ron looks up, taking a moment to process such a direct touch from Will. But he feels okay with it.

"Rip off the band-aid," Will says.

Ron considers him. Nods then flips the envelope over. He unseals it and slides out a letter.

It's very short.

2251 Lower Ave Apt 205

November 9th 2pm.

Please come.

Ron looks up at Will inquisitively.


Kim watches her fellow prisoners from up high in the Director's office, located in the prison's central tower. She's maybe three stories up from the top level of the prison: Level 5. From up high, she can peer directly into her own cell. Inside the cell, Frugal Lucre is propositioning himself to a ring of former gangbangers (so not happening).

The Director's Office: GJDC November 3: 11:31AM

Her eyes narrow slightly, and the world around her fades away. For months now, she's walked through these halls, thinking herself innocent. Now her hands are bloodied.

"Possible!" a cold voice snaps.

Kim jolts against her chains. A tight, iron collar rests on her neck, chained to her handcuffs. Even moving her wrists a hair's width tightens the collar. An extra security measure to protect the Director from Kim.

Kim turns around slowly. Tilts her left foot forward, forgetting her ankles are bound too. She grimaces and adjusts her stance. Looks down at the Director who sits at her desk.

The Director's office is metallic and circular. There's a row of windows running across nearly the entire office, allowing the commander to see anywhere in the prison. When Kim had originally entered, she noticed a very large screen ascending up into the ceiling. Likely a security grid.

"Sit down," the Director orders.

For a fleeting moment, a moment so short it goes unnoticed, Kim considers resisting… for the fun of it. But it strikes her that to refuse would incite some form of punishment. And what would it be this time? Loss of meal privileges? More time in solitary? It all passes through her mind in but a moment, and then she takes a seat across from the Director, chains clinking.

The Director sits with her arms tented, forehead resting against her interlocked fists. She shakes her head mournfully and looks up.

"Shego doesn't know anything… she just got released back to her cell."

Kim furrows her brow.

Why is sh down thre while I'm p here?

A smirk crosses the Director's face. She lowers her fists down to the desk. "Because you're special, and I think you know something."

Kim turns her cheek away, face flushing.

The Director leans back in her chair, arms crossed at her chest. "They broke into my prison, using primitive weaponry. Shuriken , really? It was a death wish from the start. Of course, you claim they were here to kill you. For all I know, they were breaking you out, the plan failed, and you killed them to bury the story."

A tense moment passes while Kim's eyes widen.

The Director leers at her smugly then leans back into her chair. Yawns theatrically into her hand. "Possible, you're so boring . No. I know that's not the case. Saw the whole thing." She points at her only eye. And with her other hand, she gestures up at the security camera she has in her own office.

Kim looks up at it and frowns. So Global Justice saw everything… she looks back at the Director. There was a moment during all the chaos where Kim had the gun in her hand, and she… pointed it at the back of Shego's head.

How long was that moment? She can't remember.

How obvious was she?

The Director's smile widens, and Kim winces, expecting the worst.

"Of course you weren't going to try escaping," the Director says. "You're too much of a pussy anyways."

Kim inwardly heaves a sigh of relief.

The Director notices the relief and frowns, a little weirded out. "Amazing that the assassin missed a target as still as you. I'm sure you were upset that he crashed your little date with Shego."

Kim raises an eyebrow.

The Director chuckles to herself. Leans in, eying her prey like a true apex predator. "Enough bullshit. What I need to know, and I need to know right now, is who the fuck did this. Who broke into my prison?"

Kim goes stone-faced.

The Director snickers. Gets out of her chair and paces around Kim in circles. "What'll it be, Possible? Do I have to waterboard you? Throw you back in solitary?"

Kim squirms in her seat, trying to keep herself calm but still, her eyes trail after the Director.

"I don't think I need to tell you what happens if you stay silent," the Director says lightly. "Though I will say, I'd hate to call Stoppable down, but that does seem to be the easiest way to get inside your head."

Kim squirms at the memory. Before, when Ron read her mind, their bond felt right. She welcomed him warmly, and his sheer presence felt nice in her soul. And then it all changed. Now his aura is unstable. When his power touches her, it's parasitic and painful. Yet despite all that, a chance to see Ron? She could use him to suss out the assassin's true objective… and maybe even see how he's doing—no. What is she thinking? She's not that starved for connection.

Besides, any interaction between him and her would be under surveillance.

Kim bites her lip.

Somone just tried to kil me. Can we d this later?

The Director furrows her brow. "Darling, do you really think that assassin was after you?"

Kim furrows her brow right back.

The Director cackles and spins back into her chair, throwing her heels up on the table. "It's obvious in the footage. He was just trying to incapacitate you, Shego was the one he actually tried to kill at the end."

Kim frowns.

The Director shrugs. "Trust me. I have experience here. No one was after you. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time… and you defended her. Bet that feels good, huh?"

Kim's stomach churns at the notion… she knows in her heart that she saved Shego's life, and there may not have been another way. She also knows The Director is a master manipulator and nothing she says should be taken at face value.

The Director's gaze drills into Kim for an extra moment, and then the woman relaxes. "Now. Tell me what you know."

Kim momentarily sneers at the Director then burrows into her slate.

Yamanouchi Ninja School is a ninja academy hidden away on the cliff face in a Japanese jungle. It's secret, so secret that even Ron kept it from her for over a year, as well as his powers. It's there that gifted students are trained to uphold the traditions of Yamanouchi and to pass the knowledge on—

"And how does Stoppable factor into that?" the Director asks.

Kim stops writing. Thinks.

The Director shrugs. Leans back in her chair, unimpressed.

For a moment, Kim nearly takes the bait and tells the Director outright that Ron is some kind of prophetic Chosen One, and in her mind, she's always envisioned the students as some kind of army to back up General Stoppable in a war to end all wars… which for the longest time, she thought was the Lowardian Invasion.

But things have only gotten worse. Regardless, Kim just shrugs. Continues on her explanation, profiling key students like Yori and Hirotaka

As Kim pens her take on Yamanouchi, her mind wanders, mostly in the gaps between showing the Director her slate and the Director taking it in. What would it mean if the assassin was after Shego and not Kim? What offense did Shego commit that would anger Yamanouchi? Well, for starters, how did Kim anger Yamanouchi because it's unlikely Shego even has a connection with them.

Kim hurt Ron. Bad. Their love was once their shared power, but now that's severed. But what if Sensei felt differently? What if they hadn't quite given up on Ron just yet? What if they wanted to use Kim to reactivate Ron? Is Shego truly in the way of such a scheme? Is Kim's link with Shego so close that the green woman would be seen as a threat?

At the end of her explanation, Kim asks a question.

D you kno how he broke n?

The Director shifts her weight, a flare of discomfort contorting her face. "That's confidential," she says coolly.

So they don't know. Kim decides then and there that she needs to find that escape route and… escape? It's not where her mind was initially going, but it's a very real possibility.

Two months ago, Kim said that she belonged here. Since then, she's wrestled with the idea. Sure, if she was Kim Possible (who can do anything), she could break out… but she's not Kim Possible anymore. She's just Kim. She wanted her old life to be over for so long now… but if she were to break out, she'd always be on the run. The show would never end.

Beyond that—there's another question, does she include Shego in that plot?

Yes. It doesn't even take her a second to decide, and she kind of hates herself for it. Maybe it's the hero in her. Or the desperation that pervades everyone else.

The Director tilts her head to the side. "By your account, is there any chance they'll come back?"

Kim takes a precious moment to think before the Director can call her bluff. She starts writing.

The Director groans loudly. "A simple yes or no would suffice."

Kim looks up from her slate, peeved. Flashes the message at the Director.

N .

Another groan from the world's most juvenile military commander. "You really had to write that?"

Kim sticks her tongue out. Goes back to writing.

He ws an initiate on hs first mission. He likly came up with the job, not Sensei. o one's coming for him.

Complete and utter bullshit.

The Director buys it without question. She nods. "Now… I need to impress upon you—this never happened." She raps her gloved fingers against her desk, leering at Kim threateningly. "Am I understood?"

The message is surely received, but Kim chances her luck.

Because you'd lse your fundng?

Another rapping of the fingers. Deep breath. The Director says, "I would choose your next words very carefully."

Kim sucks on her lip. She can make a demand here. Better living conditions. Perhaps an extra blanket. Maybe a second pillow. Having only one does bother her neck. Then she feels guilty for being selfish. Isn't there something altruistic she could ask for? She probes her mind, but she's hungry and tired, running out of steam fast.

The door opens. Kim looks back and sees one of the CO's step into the office.

"Director," he says with a hint of urgency. "You're needed in—" Cough. "—Sanitation."

The Director sighs. Gets out of her chair, waving with her hand for Kim to rise with her.

Kim doesn't listen. She writes a message.

We'll cntinue this lter.

The Director clenches her jaw, clearly wishing Kim had not picked up on the leverage she had.

"Sure," she seethes. "Whatever."


Kim finds Shego waiting for her at her cell. Kim looks inside: Lucre is still there with the gangbangers.

Kim and Lucre's Cell: GJDC November 3: 12:02PM

"Sorry," Shego says. "I tried to get them out—hey, were you in the Director's office?"

Kim nods. Enters the cell.

Lucre looks up at Kim and jumps off (her) bed with his hands spread wide. "Aw, here she is boys! My roomie! My pal! Kim Poss—"

Kim walks right up to him and stares right into his beady little eyes.

He blinks. She doesn't.

He wilts. "Uh…" Tugs at his collar. "Exit stage left?"

Kim nods gently.

Lucre jerks a thumb over his shoulder. "C'mon boys!"

The gangbangers all exchange a look. One speaks up, "I think we're all just going to go somewhere else, man."

Lucre frowns in dismay. "But I wasn't—"

The prisoners make their exit, dispersing in different directions.

Lucre scratches the back of his hairy neck. "Um… well, I guess that… gives me some more time to, uh… settle my score with Falsetto Jones!" He flexes his arms for emphasis. "HUH!" Then he leaves with a swagger that fades within seconds.

Shego shakes her head in disgust, her eyes following Lucre. "Do you know how he wound up on Level 5?"

Kim sighs.

Btty hates me.

"Fair enough," Shego remarks. "So…"

Kim sits down on her bed, a question on her face.

Shego nods and throws her hands to her hips. "I told them I didn't know anything. You?" The answer must flicker across Kim's face because Shego immediately follows up with, "Oh, of course. You know something. What is it?"

Kim spills the beans. It admittedly gets frustrating penning the same explanation she wrote for the Director. When possible, she cuts corners and abbreviates her handwriting, rushed and scratchy.

At the end of her explanation (technically an essay), Shego nods. "So let me get this straight: There's an academy of ninjas, actual ninjas, and they want you dead."

Kim winces.

Shego frowns. It takes a moment to dawn on her. She backs off.

"Oh no… don't tell me—"

Kim nods grimly.

Shego's hand slides up to her throat, jaw clenched. "—they wanted me ?"

Kim nods again.

I thik so.

Shego hisses through her teeth. "I gotta get the fuck out of here. Like pronto, I'm busting out. Dead serious." She snorts. Relaxes. "And I just asked the Cyclops for a commuted sentence. Hmph. So much for that."

Kim frowns.

You want to ecape? Just lke that? Isn't that ard?

Shego furrows her brow, offended. "Princess, do you have any idea how many times I've broken out of prison?"

Kim rolls her eyes.

Shego laughs playfully. "You don't think I can pull it off, huh?" A short pause. Shego holds her smile, seemingly hoping Kim will play along. But Kim doesn't, and the smile fades. Just for a moment. Shego gets upbeat again and pumps a fist in the air. "Somewhere in this shithole, there's gotta be a key to get these power inhibitors off me. If I can do that, I'm clear."

Kim's eyes widen as she takes it all in. To her, it feels like she's being propositioned, and despite every fiber of her being screaming for her to take the chance to escape from a literal Hell on Earth, something holds her back. She doesn't know what it is.

Shego's smile fades again. This time though, she gives up. Moves on. "What did you ask for in exchange for your silence and whatever?"

Kim shrugs.

We ddn't get to it. 'm undecided.

Shego folds a finger across her chin playfully and sits down on the one folding chair they're allowed to have in the cell. "Hm. Hm. Well, then we're gonna need to brainstorm that together, okay? You deserve to win big."

Kim smiles weakly, won over by Shego's casual adoration. She just wishes she knew where it came from… as she wishes she could reciprocate somehow. Possibly she could join in on the escape with Shego, not that she'd be able to hold her weight. Not in the state she's in.

Shego leans back. "You want to be alone right now, don't you?"

It's not until the words leave Shego's lips that Kim realize that is exactly how she feels right now. She nods.

Shego nods back and gets up. "Cool. I'll go, uh, beat the shit out of Duff Killigan or something. See ya."

She leaves, hand trailing along the wall until it reaches the corner. Shego vanishes behind the wall, her hand lingering on the corner for a moment. The fingers tense then relax, and Shego reappears. Walks back into the cell.

Kim looks up at Shego curiously. At Shego, who looks unusually grave.

"Listen," Shego starts quietly, overcome by nerves that are so unlike her. "I… I never killed anyone up until a few months ago. My situation was different, but I know how it feels. And um, if you ever want to talk about it with anyone… I'm here, Kimmie."

Kim nods.

Thnk you.

Shego takes her leave quietly, once again running her hand against the wall. This time, the fingers linger at the corner but eventually slip away.


After several hours of laying down and wasting away in her bed, Kim leaves her cell. She stands outside the library. The door is sealed off with caution tape. She exhales and knocks three times.

"This room is off-limits. Off-limits!" a familiar voice shouts from within.

Kim smiles weakly. She knocks again.

Library: GJDC November 3: 3:20PM

The door opens a crack, and Agent Will Du slinks in, his sallow face veiled in shadow. He narrows his eyes at the sight of her.

"You're serious?" he asks.

She nods.

He furrows his brow. "Trust me, Possible. You don't want to see this—"

She pushes her way in. He steps back to make room for her despite himself. She peers into the library, and it's exactly as she left it. Books are off the shelves and on the floor in piles. She advances deeper into the library. Goes to the very back. Will follows closely after her.

"Possible, I'm warning you—"

She stops. There's dark blood staining the carpet in a halo, and a small charcoal dot where the bullet pounded into the floor. The blood spray looks so fresh to her. It feels like days since she killed some one, but it was merely a few hours before.

Her eyes dart back-and-forth, taking in all the details. Her facial expression is unreadable. Not just to Will, but to herself. She feels hot in the head, and her heart is positively thumping.

She killed someone. The more she sees, the more it becomes clear. It isn't as if she never expected this; at some point, she knew she'd kill somebody someday, and she expected it to be devastating.

She didn't expect this . Whatever this is.

Will starts talking to her. He even touches her shoulder. But she doesn't process any of it, doesn't notice him at all, and once the dizziness hits its peak, she passes out. Her head nearly bashes into a bookcase, but Will catches her just in time.

Some unknown amount of time later, she wakes up on the floor, her body leaned up against the wall, her arms resting on her knees. She looks up Will drearily, still coming to. He's bent down to her level and looking at her with concern.

"You passed out," he says bluntly.

She nods. Her fingers twitch towards her slate, but she thinks better of it. Too tired to write, not for something that can be best summarized with a nod. Though yes Will, she did notice that she passed out.

"I'd imagine this is hard for you," Will says. "I've killed before. A few years ago, I was your age. Just starting up. And the Director had me do it, she kept putting me in situations where… where I didn't have a choice. And honestly, Possible? You get used to it after a while."

He looks at her for a moment. "Your circumstances are different. You're a survivor. Not a killer. You got that?"

She blinks. Nods again. She's fought her whole life without ever needing to kill, and then this happened. She didn't even hesitate. It didn't cross her mind for a moment that she shouldn't. Now she's stuck here for the rest of her life, having to process the fact that maybe she does belong here.

She lazily reaches over for the slate and writes a message.

Wht happene to the bdy?

Will frowns. "Do you really want to know?"

She nods.

He wilts. Continues more quietly, "I put the body in a bag, and I handed it off to Sanitation. They wheeled it out. Made it look like—I don't know, they made it look like a pile of damaged books and property."

Kim stares at him.

Ad then?

He doesn't skip a beat. "What do you think they do? What do you think is necessary?"

She winces, disturbed. She imagines the body in a barrel full of acid, a carcass floating in all the blood. Tries to shake it off but can't quite let it go. She sits there, and Will watches her. She sighs to herself and writes a message. Flips up the slate with a frown on her face.

How's Rn?

Will recoils. "Possible, that's—that's confidential. I can't talk about that."

She shakes her head, annoyed.

I sw you on TV. I kow you're his artner.

Will tries for a poker face but it breaks all too soon. "I want to be clear with you: I like you, Possible. Most agents? Their first mission with GJ is usually their first mission. You've been at this for five years now? I bet you don't even know how many missions you've embarked on. I do. A lot of us do."

She furrows her brow, flattered but confused.

He continues, "You do not tell anyone I said this, you understand?"

She nods dimly.

He sighs loudly. "I'm telling you exactly what I told him: It's over between you two. I think it's best you each move on and… forget about the other. I know you often don't take my advice, which I personally find amusing, but this whole thing? I can't tell you what the true machinations of the Director's are, but I have my theories. As I do with the man who tried to kill you. There are forces at play here, and I think you need to stay away from them. Am I clear?"

She stares at him, not sure exactly how to respond. Of course there is something going on behind-the-scenes that she's not privy to. Of course it has to do with her and Ron.

Will holds out his hand. She takes it, still confused, and he helps her up to her feet.

"It might not say it on the paperwork anymore, but I still see myself as your handler, Kim," he says. "Though I should also say, it's not a coincidence that I'm the one handling this. So be careful, even around me."

Her hand crawls down to her slate to write something, but Will grabs her hand. She looks up and pulls away.

"Don't," he says. "I'm serious. For your sake and mine. Now, I do need you to leave."

Kim nods and turns away. Stops at the door and looks back at Will. She mouths, " Thank you ." Then exits the library and trudges down the hall, her pace getting slower and slower. Her limbs suddenly feel heavy, and the energy saps out of her. When she reaches her cell, which is thankfully still empty, she crashes onto her bed. Stares up at the rungs to Lucre's bunk.

If what Will says is true, and there are greater machinations at play, then perhaps she should counter that. Before, her plan was to sever the connection between her and Ron. It's in Global Justice's best interests (and Sensei's) to have Ron back to full power, and it appears they both see Kim as the conduit to Ron's powers.

Or.

She could be losing her mind and giving into fits of paranoia. But if the Director was right, and that the assassin was really after Shego, then what is it that makes Shego the key? How can she be "in the way"?

More importantly, because Kim would rather not have to kill another freakin' ninja out of the blue again, how can she make this stop?

She battles with it for some time. Eventually, she yields to her inner demons and tries to rest… but her mind again turns elsewhere. As her limbs sink into the cushion and her eyes wander over the rusted coils to Lucre's bunk… she imagines herself rotting into a husk. A useless, worthless husk…

…a husk which the Director would certainly want nothing to do with. Nor would Sensei. Nor would anyone… except Shego. Shego would stay.

Kim closes her eyes, smiling as she drifts off to sleep.


Kim steps into the bathroom with a mop bucket at her side. Deep sigh. Though her revelation from a few days past lives in her mind, the pragmatic deliverance of that idea scares her. To truly waste away into nothing… would it really save her? Is it better to rot here than to die here? Is her sentence worth serving?

What is there to gain?

Level 2 Bathroom: GJDC November 6: 1:01PM

"Possible!" a CO shouts.

A shiver shoots up her spine, and she whirls around. The CO leers at her, hands on his hips.

"You just gonna stare at the wall?" he sneers.

She hops to it. Kim scrubs the toilets. She mops the floor. Wipes down the trash cans. Clears smudges from the mirror. Picks toilet paper scraps from off the floor. Loads trash into the dumpster. She works hard, much harder than need be, hard enough to make herself sick. It contradicts everything she's been thinking about, to work like this. But she's Kim Possible. She's supposed to go above and beyond.

When she finishes, she's on all fours, her knees stained with grime. She gets up on her knees and wipes her forehead with the back of her soiled sleeve. She stands up and notices her filthy reflection in the pristine mirror. She sighs, hoping that frenzy took up her four hour shift today… truly, she has no concept of time back here.

She steps outside into the hall where a CO is "supervising" an inmate cleaning between floor tiles with a toothbrush.

The CO looks up at Kim. Frowns. "All done?"

She nods.

He stares at her for a moment. "And?"

She frowns.

The CO shakes his head. Takes a step back and swats at the door behind him. It swings open, revealing the men's bathroom. Even from a brief glimpse, Kim can see that it's filthy. She sighs. Doesn't move.

The CO sighs. "You've got two hours left, Possible."

She nods, though truly, she doesn't want to comply. She wants to go back to her cell and lay down.

The CO resumes "supervising" the other inmate. Kim bites her lip. Takes one slow sidestep towards the other bathroom. Thinks better of it and resumes position. She taps her slate to regain the CO's attention.

He glares at her.

I wnt abov and beond in there. I'm tred. Can I g back to my cel?

The CO leers at her slate. "Above and beyond, huh?" He takes one long step towards the bathroom that Kim cleaned. He peers inside, furrows his brow, and returns to Kim. "Uh-huh. Two more hours, inmate."

She momentarily considers standing down and retreating to the bathroom. She even shuffles her feet towards the door… but then she gets defiant.

Mke me.

He cracks an evil grin. "Oh, you want to be tough?" He leans back and crosses his arms. "I don't think you're in a position to be light, Possible."

She wilts. Steps back, considering everything. He's obviously referring to the deal she made with Duff. Fifty percent of her earnings for "protection." Protection from what, she doesn't really understand… but apparently the CO is on it. Staring at him uneasily, she steps this way and that way, unsure as what she should do.

Then she remembers Shego. Shego protects her. Shego's nice to her. And besides, Duff is a pushover. Kim can take him.

She swiftly turns away from the CO and marches off down the hall. Similar to Lucre, she has a tough posture that fades within seconds, giving into something meek and awkward. She trudges down the hall to her cell, each consecutive step getting slower and slower.

She doesn't understand. She had all this energy before, it had been so easy to access, and now it's just gone.

"Going somewhere, Possible?" a familiar voice says.

A shiver runs up her spine, and she turns around. Duff Killigan leans against the wall coolly with his arms crossed at his chest. She swears he wasn't there a second ago, though she has no idea how a loser like him would be able to get the jump on someone like her.

Killigan checks his watch. His nice, fancy watch. "Aren't you supposed to be cleaning the Level 2 men's bathroom about now?"

She stares at him for a moment and considers a response, only to turn away and continue the slog of a walk back to her cell. He cackles, his voice echoing down the halls.


Kim stares at her tray of food. It's chicken nuggets and green beans. She prods a green bean with her fork, and some liquid oozes out. She frowns, staring at the gross, unseemly food. Plays with it for a moment.

Ron always used to call her a rabbit because of all the salads she went through, but now she struggles to eat her greens. They make her feel unhappy, and she already feels unhappy enough.

Cafeteria: GJDC November 8: 10:30AM

"So," Lucre starts with his usual thespian flourish. "How'd you two dames get involved?"

"Involved?" Shego repeats angrily. "We are not involved."

Kim looks up from her food.

Lucre frowns. "What? C'mon! You two are famously in cahoots! I mean, you're together literally all the time!"

Shego gnashes her teeth. "Keep your voice down. You're going to give people some stupid ass ideas about me and Kimmie."

Kim looks over innocently, then she finds something in Shego's eyes that makes her smile.

Shego notices. "You think that's funny, Possible? You—you fucking, um, clingy, needy, uh…"

Lucre crosses his hairy arms at his chest. "Gotta say, Possible's not helping your case."

"No," Shego says dryly, making angry eyes at Kim. She leans in, elbows on the table. "She's not."

Kim mirrors Shego's stance with the elbows, looking awfully smug.

Shego simmers. "You. Are. The. Worst."

Kim sticks her tongue out.

Shego rolls her eyes.

Lucre looks between them, unsure how to feel. "Okay. So. My follow-up question, it's a big one." He splays both his hands out in excitement. "You wanted to kill the President. Why? I mean, that's a big job."

Kim looks over at Shego with interest. She always figured it had to do with showmanship.

Shego leans back, thinking. "Doctor D sent me off shortly after the Bermuda Triangle fire. He gave me the hits, including the President. Drak paid me up front, and that was it. I haven't been able to reach him since. Would've been a great payday for me if Princess didn't up and ruin everything."

Kim frowns. Writes.

What haened to all the oney he pid you?

"Feds found all of it," Shego sighs. "So that's gone."

Kim leans back in interest.

Whre did you kep all of it? A wrehouse?

Shego snickers at the notion. "Where'd you get that from? A movie?"

Kim frowns.

Forgive me f r not knwing the mnd of a crminal.

Shego leans back playfully. Gestures at her prison uniform with the sweep of her arm. "Like it or not, Kimmie, you are a criminal."

Kim narrows her eyes, looking awful cross.

So whre ws it?

"What makes you wanna know so bad?" Shego taunts.

Kim frowns. Looks at her slate then gets an idea that makes her smirk.

Gd knowledge for whn we bth break out f this shthole.

Shego bursts into laughter that's music to Kim's ears.

Lucre leans into his elbows, a greedy look on his gaunt face. "And I'm included in those plans, huh?"

Shego rolls her eyes. "Why? So you can take another shot at Martin Smarty of all people?"

"He's a billionaire!" Lucre frowns, perturbed. "Down with the bourgeoisie! Let rise the proletariat."

Shego cocks her head, impressed. "I respect that actually." She looks back at Kim. "I laundered it. My lawyer helped me. Dummy corporations, legit businesses willing to look the other way, all of it was found. So I'm broke, and again, I have no idea where Doctor D even is."

Kim frowns.

I rally want to knw wht he's up t.

A guilty look crosses Shego's face. She shrugs lightly. "Yeah, I don't know. He didn't tell me much. Just… do the hits, and it'll all come together. You're really chatty today, huh?"

Kim flushes, embarrassed.

So h's cmpltely MIA?

Shego thinks about it. "Nah. Whatever it is he's planning, I think… it's big. But what do I know? For all I know, the whole thing got trashed the second I got arrested."

Kim frowns. Everything that's happened in the past two months has felt preordained, like a twist of fate. Simultaneously, she knows better. What happened is largely due to the machinations of the Director… and yet, Kim wonders:

Did Drakken want Kim to pursue Shego?

Was the slaying of Señor Senior Sr. intended as a signal flare for Team Possible?

Is there something Shego's not telling her?

Kim can't think that way. Not after everything Shego's done for her. It's come from too genuine of a place. Besides, thinking like this, overcoming the brain fog that pervades her mind, is draining. Being Kim Possible is draining. All she wants is to rest.

Lucre butts in. "I think we're missing the big picture here."

"What, Lucre?" Shego snaps. "Can't you see Kimmie and I are connecting right now?"

"Yeah, well, I'm not interested in that," Lucre points out. "I want the spicy, gory details about you eighty-sixing the President." He pounds the table. "C'mon! Spill! The! Beans!"

"Alright, you wanna know?" Shego seethes. "I did it to send a message to our pompous, narcissistic oligarchs that their time is up."

Kim frowns. It's strange for her. Growing up squeaky clean like she has, politicians were always people to revere. But then again, so were lawyers, judges, correctional officers, and more. Quickly, her world has unraveled, and she doesn't know how to feel anymore.

Shego watches Kim's microexpressions with keen interest. "I'm sick of living in a world where the only people who can save us are these arrogant demi-gogues who care more about votes than anything else. People are suffering en masse—Hell, people are dying. And if it all it takes for people to wake up and realize the truth is one little President dying… I get it, you think I'm a psychopath."

Kim frowns with some understanding.

I thnk yo're hrt.

"Yeah," Shego says angrily. "No shit. I've killed and killed and killed. My soul is as black as ash. So if it's anyone who's got to make the sacrifice, it might as well be me."

The words flick off her tongue like venom. It's not until those words leave her does she understand the horrors of what she just said. Her jaw slacks for a moment, hanging wordlessly.

Kim offers a weak smile. Reaches across the table.

Shego eyes Kim's hand for a tense moment. She sighs and takes it.

Kim's smile brightens. She lets go of Shego and writes.

I thin I nderstad nw.

Lucre slouches. He grumbles, "Famously in cahoots."


Shego's not in the showers with her.

Showers: GJDC November 9: 6:55PM

Not that Kim necessarily looks for Shego. Out of respect, she'd rather not see Shego nude, though that is inevitable in this space. She keeps it to fleeting glances, most of them accidental and casual. It's admittedly been hard to look away when she does notice a lil' something-something. Shego's figure is something she's worked for, and it's… difficult not to admire it at the least.

Usually, when the two shower, Shego monologues about something stupid. She talks, and Kim listens. It's all Kim can really do. There's not much room for writing when taking a shower after all.

Kim drops her towel to the floor, her hands making hesitant motions to cover herself from the other women, not that anyone's looking at Kim. She tries to be brave and keeps her fists curled around her hips. Something about Shego not being here makes Kim nervous.

She steps forward, her flip-flops click-clacking across the tiled floor, the spray of the other showers licking her calves.

She walks to her usual spot right at the very front where a floor-length mirror is laid out. She looks at her deteriorated reflection. Her own rosy skin has paled considerably. Muscles have thinned, and the fat has gone out of her breasts and hips. Stretchmarks have formed across her body from rapid weight loss.

And yet it doesn't bother her. This is the plan after all, isn't it? To waste away… she's already been doing it for months now. All she needs to do now is lean in.

She steps closer to the mirror. Raises her arm and scrubs underneath, and for a rare moment, Kim feels at peace. She allows herself a smile. Stares at her naked body, almost licking her lips with the taste of victory.

She steps back and freezes: all the women that once surrounded her are gone. She is alone. She starts to turn around, but then someone grabs her by the hair and smashes her face right into the mirror. Crack! Blood gushes from her nose. Another hand wraps around her waist, fingers touching her stomach. The vicious force whips her around and pushes her against the mirror. Chips of glass cascade down her back.

She looks at her assailant, and it's Duff Killigan. She screams. A hoarse, scratchy, inhuman sound. She covers her body with her hands, her jaw clenched and her teeth showing. Before, she would have fought back. She would have toppled him, but her reality has warped in prison.

Killigan kicks Kim square in the stomach. She falls back, and the mirror shatters behind her, shards of glass carving small scratches into her back. Reeling from the blow, she's defenseless when Killigan clubs her upside the head. Kim tumbles and hits the floor, blood spilling from her mouth and onto the floor.

Killigan cackles and grabs onto the shower's dial. He turns it all the way up, and the normally chilly waters get hotter and hotter, until the droplets burn against her skin. She screams again, so he kicks her in the head. She rolls over onto her back.

Clutching her head, she tries to drag herself out of the scalding hot waters, but Killigan firmly digs his boot into her thigh, holding her down. She notices then that he's dressed in some black rubber get-up. It protects him from the heat. He holds her down while she burns.

Finally, after far too long, the water stops, and Killigan lifts his boot off her. She breathes in and out, touching her red, raw skin. Her blood mixes with the water that floods down the floor drains. Killigan steps besides her while she breathes harshly. Her eyes track after him until he stops. He stands over her, facing away, hands crossed behind his back.

She looks back up at the ceiling. If she stays perfectly still, the burning is minimal. But the moment she so much as lifts her arm a fraction of an inch, the burning reignites.

"You don't tell anyone about this, understand?" he says.

She has no way to respond. Not with him looking away from her.

Then, he grabs her by the hair and drags her across the floor. Terrified, she lets him. She bites down on her lip, holding back the screams while he drags her to the back wall. He leans her up against the wall and tears out a chunk of her hair. Then he draws closer.

Closer.

She tries to squirm away, her eyes glued to his hands. Any second now, she expects him to drop his pants and… and…

He folds his hands to his knees and lowers himself into a crouch, leering at her smugly. "You don't ever want to be light, Possible."


She doesn't remember passing out, but it's clear she did when Duff Killigan suddenly turns into Shego. Lucre stands behind her, respectfully looking away.

Showers: GJDC November 9: 8:21PM

There are tears in Shego's eyes. Kim doesn't think she's ever seen Shego cry. Shego's lips move, and Kim follows them. Suddenly, Shego gives Kim a light shake, and then Kim can hear again.

"Kimmie, are you in there?"

Kim nods, groggy and dizzy.

A slight smile from Shego. She touches Kim's cheek, and the touch is so nice and friendly.

Shego looks away for a moment. "Lucre, give Kimmie your shirt."

Lucre sighs loudly and removes his shirt, revealing the hairiest man in the world.

"I don't know if either of you are ready for the full Lucre experience," he complains, tossing the shirt to Shego.

"Shut up," Shego says with a smile. She grabs Kim and gently slides the shirt over her, fitting her limp arms into the sleeves. Kim falls over suddenly, but Shego catches her.

"Hey," Shego says. She repeats herself. "Hey. Princess. Please. Stay with me."

Kim stares at Shego, her mind barely functioning.

Shego slips an arm under Kim's legs and lifts her up. The movement is deeply disorienting, and Kim starts to fade again.

Shego runs a hand through Kim's hair. "I got you," she says. "I'm taking you to the nurses, they're gonna fix you up."

Kim's head lolls back. Shego gently raises Kim's head back up.

Kim's lips move.

" I'm going to save you too, some day ," she mouths.

Then—blackness.


Ron stands outside 2251 Lower Ave Apt 205 on the stone walkway. He's dressed in his Global Justice uniform with a Global Justice-branded jacket hanging over it, open. In one hand, he holds a gift basket. Flowers and chocolates. Will told him it was a good idea.

Ron takes a deep breath and knocks on the door. He immediately hears someone inside scrape a chair against the floor. He braces himself, and it's Doctor Ann Possible who opens the door with a smile.

The Possible Residence: Lowerton, Colorado November 9th: 2:00PM

"Oh Ron, so glad you could make it," she says, stepping back for Ron to enter. But he lingers in the doorway, long enough for Ann to take notice. She wraps a hand around Ron's waist and gently guides him inside.

It's a different aesthetic than he's used to with the Possibles. Lots of dark oak paneling, not much carpet, and not much space. Some things appear to be missing from shelves and are seemingly packed away in boxes that line the walls to the apartment.

"You guys moving?" Ron rasps.

"We want to be closer to Kim," Ann says. "Come. Sit."

Ron takes a seat at the round, wooden table. Seated around him is a gallery of familiar faces: Doctor James Possible, Wade, Bonnie, and Ron's former teacher/nemesis, Mr. Barkin. He's a tall, muscular man with a brown crewcut perpetually trimmed down enough for him to join the army. All parties stare at Ron, as Ron stares at them.

Even just three months ago, this would've been comfortable.

Suddenly, Wade gets up and slides his chair over. Two Gen X'ers drag two chairs over from one of the bedrooms. The man on the left is stocky and balding with thin-framed glasses, and the woman with him is thin with blond hair, glasses, and a harsh expression.

"Mom? Dad? You're here too?" Ron asks.

"This is our way of telling you that we'd be here," Ron's father, Lon Stoppable, says.

Ron frowns and sets his gift basket on the table. "You guys gotta work on your communication skills."

"You think he'd get used to it," Ron's mother, Barbara Stoppable, mutters to Lon.

Wade and Barkin both look at the gift basket with interest. Wade even twiddles his thumbs.

Ron leans back in his seat and gestures for the two boys to have at it. "Is this an intervention?"

Ann is taken aback. "Oh! no, dear, sorry to give you that impression. We're the Save Kim Possible Campaign! We meet every month, this is our second meeting, and we thought it'd be nice to have you."

Ron's jaw slacks. "Um." He looks around the table and notices there's a notepad in front of Bonnie.

"Oh," Bonnie says. "We can show you the notes from our last meeting later."

"Anyways," James cuts in. "We were reading this letter before you came in, I could start over… let me see… I need you to stay away from me. "

James continues reading, but Ron immediately drifts out of his body. The last time he saw Kim… she was like a caged animal freshly scooped from the wild. To see someone as strong as her whittled down to nothing… to lose his best friend of the past thirteen years over nothing… it's so… wrong.

Kim suffers, and Ron's just supposed to look the other way. Or rather, he has to look the other way, because the alternative means dealing with the exact things that cut him off from using his powers.

James sets the letter down, a grave expression on his face. "We hate going along with it, but disrespecting her wishes would make everything worse, we feel. Now, we can't force people to hold back on visiting Kimmie-cub… oh, and no more surprise mafia visits."

Bonnie flushes. Starts to note that in the minutes then looks up. "Until Kim says it's fine to see her again?"

Ann sighs. "Formal proposal?"

Bonnie primly folds her hands together on the table. "Yes!"

"Let's vote!" James says. "All in favor of no more mafia visits ever again?"

James, Ann, Lon, Barbara, Wade, and Barkin all raise their hands. Ron looks around and meekly raises his hand, confused.

"Damn!" Bonnie swears, briefly clenching her writing hand before penning down the election results. "We aren't sure if you've heard, Ron, but Kim can't speak. It sounds like someone may have assaulted her. When I saw her, her face was all—" Bonnie's finger dances across her face, illustrating the details, but she stops as she notices the guilty expression on Ron's face.

Ann notices too. "Did that man with the silly name tell you about Kim's condition, Ron? What was it? Ken Du?"

" Will Du," James fills in. "Very silly."

Ron gulps. "Ah, no, I, uh… I actually, um, saw Kim kinda recently."

There's a note of discomfort to his voice that clues the rest of the room into some kind of issue that no one seems to want to approach.

Ron exhales. "No one updates me on Kim. It's "confidential." Everything's "confidential" now. I know though because I saw her. I had to… interrogate her. With my powers. See, um, she knew stuff that Global Justice needed to know, so they, um—" Cough. "—tortured her." He palms the back of his neck, getting sweaty now. "They needed me to use my mind reading powers to probe it out of her, and my powers… my powers hurt her. Because KP hates my guts now." He looks up from his shame. "She hates me."

"You were just doing your job, son," Barkin says calmly.

"My job?" Ron repeats with disgust. "My job isn't to hurt people, it's to save them… or at least, it's supposed to be… but Kim abandoned me."

A wave of discomfort passes through the room.

Ron notices but doesn't seem to care. For months now, it's just been him and Will. Missions nearly every day. Saving the world, thwarting assassinations, capturing stolen technology. Nothing new but… without Kim, this kind of world has no light to it.

"She was obsessed with running away," Ron explains. "She just wanted out, so she, like, created this narrative where she had to go, and now she's gone. Probably forever." He buries his face in his hands, sulking.

Silence.

Wade shuffles uncomfortably. "But Ron…"

Ron looks up dimly.

"You testified against her," Wade says, the accusation clearly having weighed on his mind for some time. "And you're the one who called Global Justice on her in the first place."

"Wade," Ann snips, trying to keep calm in the room.

"I'm sorry!" Wade shouts, gesturing at Ron. "Kim said Ron was coached in her testimony and I believe her—"

"Testimony?" Ron scoffs, crossing his arms and looking away. "She was having a paranoid, mental breakdown."

Ann reaches across the table. "Listen. We're all here because we want to help Kim, right?"

Ron considers that. "She doesn't want help though, does she?" He searches the room for someone who disagrees. "She doesn't want any of you." He hesitates. "Any of us."

He looks around the table at all the stunned faces. Grimacing, he pushes himself up to his feet and scans the table one last time. Then he turns on his heel and marches out the door without a word.

The door closes, only to swing back open immediately. He hears their footsteps stamp down the corridor floor. Just before Ron reaches the staircase down to the lower level, Ann takes Ron by the hand from behind. He looks back at her.

She's clearly hurt but smiling through it anyways. He doesn't understand. What's the point in pretending?

"Ron," Ann says. Begs maybe. "Please. Come back inside. You know Kim better than anybody else."

Ron frowns and actually considers her for a moment. What he wouldn't give for an hour where he can pretend everything is normal and okay. What he wouldn't give to pretend that his relationship with Kim isn't forever burnt. But he can't do that, he can't undo all the work he's been doing ever since Kim's trial. It's not right. Not for him, and not for the work .

"Ann," he says seriously. "I can't."

She loosens her grip on him and lets him go. He turns away and marches down the stairs. He walks for so long. Walks down the street, past his rental car, hands in his jacket pockets. After some time, he realizes what he's doing and stops. Makes a call.

"Will? Tell me you got something. I need to be out there."