Another Time, Another Place

Chapter 10

Pieces of weight


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TITLE: Pieces of weight

AUTHOR: StarvingLunatic

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own these characters.

SUMMARY: When Shego discovers an old book in the attic of her family's old house, it leads to Kigo in two different eras.

TYPE: Kim/Shego, Kim, Shego, Romance, Slash

RATING: US: PG-13 / DE: 12

Words: 4310

…Sheshona seems to have taken a liking to me as a friend. I sometimes wonder if it is appropriate, but I don’t discourage her behavior. I seem to like that Sheshona trusts me. Perhaps I even like that she seems to like me.


Shego stopped reading as she finally noticed the small amount of weight against her. Her little hostess had fallen asleep; at least she had her eyes shut that time. The redhead was knocked out, resting comfortably against Shego’s shoulder. The situation surprisingly enough did not irk the green-skinned villainess, despite the fact that her foe was using her as a pillow.

The raven-haired thief shook her head with an amused half-smile on her face; she had finally figured out the secret to stopping the mighty Kim Possible and all it involved was cooking a heavy dinner. The slender redhead never lasted long after a full meal topped with dessert; Shego bet that it had something to do with the little hero not being accustomed to having real food anymore. She was hit hard when her belly was full.

The pale woman closed the journal and gathered Kim in her arms rather than waking the younger woman up; for some reason, she was in a kind mood. Kim weighed close to nothing as far as Shego was concerned. The petite adventurer shifted against Shego’s body and snuggled into the older woman.

“You’re getting a bit too comfortable for my liking, Kimmie,” the thief commented in a low tone to avoid waking up her cargo. Despite her words, she did not put the redhead down.

Shego easily carried Kim to her bedroom. It was a rather large room and also looked like about four hurricanes had hit and was followed by two tornados. Shego was not surprised by the huge mess that she was witnessing; Kim ripped around the world so much that cleaning had to be on the back burner of her mind most of the time. At least she made the effort to keep the outside clean, so if she had company they did not have to wallow in filth. That was something.

Shego laid Kim on top of the covers on her full-sized bed, figuring no one wanted to smear their good linen with dirt from the clothing that they wore outside. She put a pillow underneath Kim’s head and left the redhead like that, resting peacefully on her bed. She left the journal on Kim’s sofa with a note, which told the little hero not to read the journal without her “or else.” She then went home.

…I dare think that I am a tad fond of Sheshona, as I would be for any friend. Well, I suppose anyway. I have not had many friends throughout my life and the ones I have had, my affections for them were not the same as my affections for her. The friends that I have had, I did not spend as much time with them as I have with her and that was out of my decision. They do not catch my interest. Her company is different than what I am accustomed and I believe that I appreciate it. I suppose it is a decent change to not having to discuss cakes or something of that nature as I might with other women.

I feel that Sheshona appreciates my company in return. I get this idea because she continues to speak with me as she does. She has changed from when she first arrived, yet she has not changed at all. She is nowhere near as hostile toward me. She is not as defensive.

I sometimes wonder if I have changed as she has, but I cannot tell. What would I see now if I look into a mirror? Would it be the same person that used to be there before I met this fascinating woman?


Sheshona stared at Doctor Possible as they shared a quiet moment; it was a pause between conversations that they both appreciated. Sheshona was surprised the first time that Kimberly had allowed for the silence to exist between them. It had been her experience with others that they would look to fill the calm with their disruptive opinion on some pointless matter, especially women. With Kimberly, she was allowed to enjoy the quiet and gaze at the known object of her building and burning lust.

Sheshona thought that her lascivious feeling for her physician might diminish as she spent time with the redhead and got to know her. She was not a person that enjoyed constant company; she had been that way for a long time. She liked intelligent conversation as much as the next person, but she did not require or like someone always around her. It typically got on her nerves and she would get crankier and crankier toward the person that was in her company until she forced the person to go away. It was different with Kimberly; it was not annoying in the least.

She was not sure why it was not annoying to be around Kimberly every day, but it was not. She realized that she might never get tired of the doctor’s company. She probably would always enjoy the redhead’s company. It was queer.

Another weird thing was that a part of her, a part that she consciously ignored, wanted to take Kimberly into her arms and hold her close. A part of her wanted to shower the doctor in tender, wet kisses that she had never thought to give another woman. It seemed that a part of her wanted to be affectionate toward the doctor; it was as if she wanted to be more loving toward the redhead rather than lustful, or along with her lust anyway. She often told that part of her brain to shut up or she tried her best to explain it away.

The doctor aroused such feelings inside of her because she was forbidden in more ways than what she was accustomed to, Sheshona promised herself. There was nothing special about her doctor, she told herself. Kimberly was just forbidden because she was the doctor, and according to the ring on her finger, she was married. Kimberly was three kinds of forbidden; her absolute favorite flavor, which might have been one of the reasons that she had her particular “disease.”

Sheshona, as a woman, should not want to lay with another woman, but she did and always would. As a patient, she should not have a chance to lay with her doctor, but she was certain that she would. And just as a decent human being, she should not want to touch a married woman; to hell with that, she had decided many times before the doctor even entered her life. Married to her just meant that she might have to put forth a bit more effort for what she wanted, but it still made a woman seem off-limits.

“Hey, doc,” Sheshona said, breaking that silent moment that they had been enjoying.

“Yes?” Kimberly replied.

“What’s your husband like?” Sheshona asked curiously. She had no driving desire for the information. She would like to hear Kimberly speak on the man. Maybe she would sound like a woman in love or maybe she would like a woman forced to get married. It would give her an idea of how much effort she had to put forth for her dear doctor.

“He’s an affable, honest, kind fellow,” Kimberly answered honestly.

“How long have you been married?” the pale woman inquired while studying her doctor’s eyes more than anything else. The truth of everything would be seen in the eyes, she believed.

“Hmm…almost ten years now,” the redhead answered with a small, simple smile on her face. It was an expression of being accustomed to something and maybe a little proud that something had lasted so long, but nothing truly significant.

“So, he supported you in becoming a doctor?” Sheshona guessed.


Sheshona nodded; it sounded like her doctor had the dream man of the day. After all, not many men would support their wives becoming a doctor. Most men would probably laugh in their wives faces if they knew that their wives had such dreams. Kimberly had landed a supportive husband, though. A man had actually supported his wife going into a career that probably topped his.

“What does your husband do?” Sheshona inquired.

“He’s an inventor,” Kimberly answered.

“Is he any good?” the pale woman asked.

“Very good. He built our home from money made from his inventions. He is a brilliant man,” the redhead replied.

So, they were a successful couple. That was a bit amazing to Sheshona. She wondered how happy the doctor was to have the perfect husband; a man that won the bread, but still supported her into such a prestigious job. She speculated from the information that she had gotten so far and the fact that Kimberly’s expression had shown no signs of sorrow, the marriage was probably a good one.

It was a shame what she was going to do to that marriage, Sheshona wickedly thought, and then some nosy angelic thought had the nerve to butt in. Could she still go through with her conquest knowing what she would do to her doctor, knowing that she would wreck something that the doctor seemed to take pride in? Yes, her wicked side insisted and her fiery lust seconded that motion. The matter was settled; marriages would be ruined and lives would be destroyed, end of argument. She would be sated.

“Does your father like him?” Sheshona asked.

“Yes, very much so,” Kimberly replied. Her father adored her husband mostly because her husband, like her father, let her do almost whatever came to mind as long as no one was hurt in the process.

“Do you love him?” Sheshona inquired and then something extremely unexpected happened; the good doctor hesitated. Well, well, well, it would seem that all was not perfect between the couple.

“I do,” the redhead answered after a few inappropriate seconds of silence. She seemed to notice and she knew that Sheshona noticed, so she tried to explain herself. “He and I have been good friends since childhood. He is a very kind and gentle man. He respects me a great deal, far more than other men that I have come into contact with. I am lucky to have him, lucky that he would have me,” she added in a bit of a rush.

Sheshona wanted to laugh, but refrained herself. Her dear doctor had married for convenience, probably believing that her friendship would grow into love. It was still better than other reasons that she had come across. Her mother and aunts had set some bizarre examples when it came to marriage; her uncles were no better either. She had one aunt that had gotten married just to become with child and then her husband, who she never liked but believed he was the perfect man physically speaking, met with an unfortunate accident. In Sheshona’s opinion, the unfortunate thing was that the man had met her aunt and happened to be potent because she had gotten pregnant quickly and he had died just as swiftly.

“You shouldn’t consider yourself lucky, doc,” the pale woman commented.

“Why not?” Kimberly inquired curiously. She truly did believe that she was lucky to have the husband that she did. She could have been married to a much worse fellow; someone who forced her to abandon her dream or treated her poorly. She was certain that she was one of the luckiest women on the planet to have a husband who allowed her do what she desired.

“He has you, doc. He’s the lucky one,” Sheshona stated and her beloved, bashful doctor returned.

Kimberly blushed at the compliment and looked away until the color lifted from her face. Sheshona’s heart fluttered at the sight; she ignored that. Her physician was so beautiful when she had the light scarlet flush gracing her rounded face. She was just a wonderful sight.

“Do you hold no interest in getting married?” Kimberly asked to change the subject. She did not want her patient to compliment her again.

“No,” the pale woman answered bluntly.

“Don’t you want children?” the redhead inquired.

“No,” Sheshona answered. She had no use for children. It was not like she could teach them the family craft. A child would only annoy her, she was certain of that. She would not know what to do with a child. She had no means to provide for a child and she had no desire to devote her attention to someone other than herself. She preferred being the most important person in her life and would not give that role up to anyone, or so she thought anyway.

“What do you want out of life?” Kimberly asked curiously. She noted that through out all of their talks, her patient had never hinted to having a goal in life. There was a simple reason for that, Sheshona did not have a goal in life.

“Why, doc? Was a child all you wanted out of life? Is that the key to your happiness? To carry the seed of your affable gentleman of a husband?” the raven-haired female countered. She sounded more teasing than biting, so it was clear that she was not trying to be hurtful or even heavily defensive.

Kimberly did not respond; it was like Sheshona had dumbfounded her with the question, but she really had not. Kimberly had the answer, but she dared not speak it out loud. She loved her son with all of her heart and soul, but he was not all that she wanted out of life. If that was the case, she would have quit her job a long time ago. She would be at home now, cooking, cleaning, or just doing something other than what she was doing now. She could not bring herself to say that out loud, though because it seemed somewhat cold to her. She thought that her son should be enough out of life, but she wanted more.

“What is the key to your happiness?” Kimberly riposted.

It was Sheshona’s turn to be silent. There was no key to her happiness. She had no happiness and she never would. Her mother had died before she could overcome the woman, her father continued to find her when she ran off and he threw her into institutions all of the time, and she had nothing to show for her two and a half decades of life. She was going to die forgotten seconds after she drew her last breath. There was no happiness for her.

The only things that Sheshona had left in life were moments of pleasure, but those were not happiness. Happiness was a long lasting feeling; delight was a momentary feeling and that was the closest thing that she had to happiness. It would always be all that she had. She had lost any desire or drive for anything else a long time ago.

“If a man and child are the keys to happiness, I suppose I will die in despair,” the green-skinned female replied.

Kimberly nodded, even though that did not answer the question. “But, what is happiness anyway? A lover’s whisper? A warm meal? A touching play?” the redhead commented to lift the sorrow that she could see in her patient’s eyes. She was also beginning to wonder herself and that was why she asked the questions.

“Indeed,” Sheshona concurred.

Really, what was happiness? Neither was sure that she knew the answer. Sheshona was certain that she had forgotten what the feeling was; she tried to convince herself that she had actually never knew what the feeling was. Kimberly was not sure if she ever knew what it was now that they had brought the subject up because she was thinking on what she experienced in life and what she wanted out of life.

Was happiness the warm, comforting feeling that was quietly descending upon them now? The silent peace they allotted each other? The validation they did not even know they gave each other? Perhaps, but they were not sure. Kimberly was only slightly familiar with the feeling now that she thought it, but it was completely aliening to Sheshona as an adult. But, it seemed that they were learning about it, teaching each other. They both tried to ignore the emotion, neither wanting it because of who caused the feeling, because of what supplied it.

…I quiver as I stand to admit something stirs within my bosom as I sit in the company of my patient. She is my patient, I must remind myself, more often now than ever. I have never felt anything like this emotion blossoming inside of me. My only hope is that it is a harmless flower and not some poisonous weed. It does not feel as if it will choke the life from me, but I have tried to keep it at bay, but she seems to be the sunshine to this feeling. How can I hide from the sun if that is the case? How?

Whatever grows inside of me, I wonder if my body will become a garden for it. It would mean that the feeling and that my patient have taken over. It is an overwhelming thing and I only hope that it is a brilliant plant as it feels. I hope that she has planted roses and not poison ivy.


Shego and Kim blinked as they read the lines in the journal. They were not sure if they were reading it right. Maybe there was some nineteenth century undertone that they were missing, they both considered. Maybe the metaphor was throwing them off, they both thought. After all, Doctor Possible could not actually be admitting to a growing attraction to Sheshona? They looked at each other, hoping the other had the answer.

“No Possible would be attracted to a Go,” Kim said something similar to what Shego was thinking.

“Exactly. She’s probably talking about friendship or something like that, but that’s just as bad,” the moss-hued thief commented.

“How so? You were considering taking me as a student,” Kim pointed out.

Shego opened her mouth to argue, but she decided not to say anything. She was not about to do something stupid like admit that wanting to take Kim as a student was much deeper than their ancestors being friends. Picking Kim as a student meant that she was looking to share her family’s secrets with the redhead and that she hoped one day for the younger female to surpass her, to be better than she was at combat. That was something serious, but since it was not going to happen, she did not bring it up. She would rather that Kim not know about that stuff anyway.

“Let’s go get something to eat,” the villainess suggested in order to get their minds off of the disturbing idea that their ancestors might be getting a little too close and cozy.

“Oh, what are you going to make tonight?” Kim asked with an eager smile. She loved having home-cooked meals again and that was easy to tell from the look on her face.

“I don’t feel like cooking tonight. You’re taking me out,” Shego declared.

“I am?” Kim asked. She did not recall agreeing to that one.

“Yes, you are,” the pale woman stated. She usually cooked every night, but that was for herself. She was not used to cooking every day for herself and someone else; it felt like she was giving and not receiving, which was not the way that she operated. She needed to get something in return if she was putting in work.

“Well, I hope it’s not expensive,” the redhead commented as she pulled out her wallet. She peered inside, as did Shego.

“You’re just about the closest thing I’ve even seen to a pauper,” the emerald-eyed thief remarked while eyeing the hero’s funds. Man, if she was ever robbed on the street, the stick-up man would probably give her wallet back and make a donation to her.

“Well, I’ve got a wide range of hobbies that seem to wipe me out whenever I come across some money. So, where do you want to go?” the petite adventurer inquired.

“Obviously no place worthwhile,” Shego quipped.

“Well, sue me for not being a big time thief,” Kim countered.

“I would, but I doubt that you’ve got the money for the legal representation. Talking about it would probably wipe you out,” the emerald-eyed female replied.

The redhead laughed a bit. The pair exited the apartment and went out for dinner. They went to a regular little diner that was nearby. The slender hero knew that the place served decent food. They sat down at a table and Shego looked around; it had been a very long time since she had been in a restaurant with no tablecloths. She decided to ignore that; at least Kim was trying.

“You come here often?” Shego asked the slim hero.

“About three times a week,” Kim answered.

“Hey, Kim,” the waitress said with a friendly smile as she approached the table. Shego looked at Kim.

“Well, if you count breakfast, lunch, and dinner, then I come here about eight times a week,” the redhead amended her statement. She had to eat somehow and she could not cook to save her immortal soul.

“You’re hopeless,” Shego sighed, but she looked rather amused by the admission. A piece of her brain subconsciously decided that the younger female was cute and her brain meant that in an attractive way, not in a cuddly way.

“When it comes to an oven, yes,” Kim agreed.

The waitress took their orders and the pair sat there to wait for their food. It did register to their minds somewhat in regards to what they were doing, but they did not think anything over it. They had already had half a dozen meals together, so any uneasy feelings that they had were gone. They decided since the other did not seem uncomfortable then there was no need for either of them to be uncomfortable.

It, however, did not occur to them that they might be on what many would consider a date. They were just out to eat as far as they were concerned. Sure, some conversation was more than likely going to occur, but just because they were together, talking, and enjoying each other’s company (not that either would admit that even under torture) did not mean that they were on a date. They were just two foes, who had called a truce and were out to eat together; well, that was what they told themselves.

“So, do you have any clue as to why the journal was in your house yet?” Kim asked while they waited for their food.

“No, I don’t get why or how it was there,” Shego answered.

“Well, maybe we’ll figure it out. Do you have any ideas?” the redhead inquired.

“None that I care to share,” the pale woman admitted.

Kim nodded because she understood where Shego was coming from. She did not want to think about the ideas either. It was not that the notions were so unpleasant, but they were a bit disturbing. After all, she and Shego were opponents, so it would be just plain weird that their ancestors were even friends, even though they were both starting to assume that their ancestors were more than friends. That journal did have to find its way into the Go house somehow and they doubted it walked; someone had to put it there and most people did not let their personal, private journals out of their sights. Such thinking led to scary notions about the past.

“Are you going to last after we finish our food?” Shego asked to change the subject. She would rather not think about what her mind was telling her was the truth, that her ancestor had gone way beyond hitting on Doctor Possible.

“What do you mean?” Kim countered with an eyebrow craned in confusion.

“You always fall out a little while after eating,” the green-skinned woman commented.

“Really?” the redhead asked incredulously. She never noticed such a thing apparently.

“Really,” Shego replied while trying not to laugh because it was amusing to see how serious the hero was about her disbelief. A certain part of her brain again was noting in her subconscious that Kim was adorable.

Kim did not believe that she fell asleep so easily. She usually had enough energy to stay up for days, so it was hard to believe that a meal could knock her out. She survived through that night because eating out was not the same as having one of Shego’s meals; it just was not as satisfying.

They did share some conversation outside of the journal while they sat at the diner. They joked around with each other, teasing and taunting the other about various things, especially the males they respectively hung out with. They were not looking to be hurtful at all, just friendly bantering. They even made each other smile several times through out the meal, but remember, it was not a date; or at least, they did not think it was.

“Are you cooking tomorrow?” Kim asked with an elfish smile as they strolled back to her place.

The expression that the hero was sporting caused Shego to give in to the request without thinking. Well, it seemed that she was cooking tomorrow. She just had to figure out what to make. She was going to send Kim out with a list to do all of the shopping, though. Hey, the kid needed to pull her weight.

Next time: the pairs tussle.

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