Kim Possible woke up in her own bed with an empty feeling in her heart. If she had stopped to think about why that was, she probably would've burst into tears and found herself unable to stop. So she didn't stop or think about it all, but instead focused on her window.
The sun was shining, and from its current position, Kim knew she would normally be in school right then. But the very thought of leaving the comfort and safety of her bed seemed alien and frightening now. And there was no telling what she would find in the world beyond her bedroom door.
Without thinking, Kim buried her face in her hands. The scent that immediately wafted into her nostrils was all too familiar. With a choked sob, Kim ripped the black glove off of her hand, and froze in the act of preparing to hurl it at the wall. She found herself bringing the glove back to her face, brushing it lightly over her cheek, and taking deep, shuddering breaths in a half-hearted attempt to calm herself.
She didn't want to be calm. She wanted to be furious. She wanted to march back up to…wherever it was they'd been and kick Long into orbit. Or at least have her father send him into a black hole. Maybe Long would survive, but there were fates worse than death, if you were creative enough.
And thinking about death probably wasn't helping things at all.
Forcing down another round of tears, Kim burrowed under her blanket and tried to think of things that wouldn't make her sad.
Rufus trying to lick banana cream pie off of Bonnie's arm. Monique wheedling Ron into singing “Ebony and Ivory” with her at the school talent show. Jim and Tim building a simulation of a faulty rocket launch for a science project…and getting their school shut down for a week after the resulting explosion.
She giggled a bit at the last one, but the sound was forced at best.
A knock on the door broke into her thoughts, and Kim was glad for the interruption. Especially when she caught a whiff of what could only be her mother's sugar cookies. There was an agreement between them that those cookies were to only be made when there were no men in the house. The evidence was always quickly eaten, washed, and put away before any of the boys got home, and as far as they knew, sugar cookies were one of the few things Mrs. Possible hadn't learned to make.
“Kimmie? Feel up to helping me destroy some evidence?”
Kim sat up and rapidly wiped at her eyes and cheeks. “Sure, Mom.” She put on her best smile as her mother came into the room, but she knew it was pointless. Her mother had always had a second sense about when things went wrong, and often all she had to do was act extra nice before guilt loosened guilty lips. While Kim hadn't really done anything wrong, she didn't like hiding things from her parents.
Well, except sugar cookies, and that was only from one of them.
Mrs. Possible sat down beside her daughter on the bed, settling the tray of cookies between them. “I was afraid I'd have to eat these all by myself for a while.”
“You know I'll always be your accomplice, Mom,” Kim replied, picking up the nearest cookie and taking a big bite.
“So are you going to tell me what's wrong?” Mrs. Possible asked innocently, selecting her own cookie.
Kim paused, a little startled. Her mother was almost never that direct. “Oh. Um…well, it's pretty complicated, and-”
“More complicated than neurosurgery,” Mrs. Possible murmured between bites. “Times sure have changed since I was a teenager.”
Kim turned bright red. “Maybe not that complicated.”
“Kimmie, I can't help or lend a sympathetic ear unless you tell what's bothering you. And we both know you will, sooner or later. Mothers are specifically trained for these kinds of things.”
“Okay, but you asked for it.” Kim took a deep breath. “Is it stupid of me to be upset that Shego might be dead?”
Without missing a beat, Mrs. Possible asked, “Did you care for her?”
“I…yes.”
“It's never ‘stupid’ to miss someone you care about, Kimmie. I won't pretend to know the details of your relationship with Shego, or how they changed, because it's none of my business. But if you have to think about her, remember her as she was in the first moment that you realized you did care. Does that help?”
Kim smiled a little. “Yeah, it really does. Thanks, Mom.”
Mrs. Possible leaned over and kissed her daughter's cheek. “You can thank me by helping me get rid of that mess in the kitchen.”
“I'll be down in a minute,” Kim promised. “Just…need to clear my head a bit.”
“I understand. You keep the rest of the cookies.” Mrs. Possible patted Kim's hand before leaving the room.
Kim sighed and put away another cookie before getting out of bed. She started to put the black glove under her pillow, then thought better of it and stuffed it into her pocket. Satisfied for the moment, she went downstairs to help her mother with the dishes.
Kim had expected there to be constant, painful reminders of Shego, but the only ones she found were all in her mind. Green and black apparently just wasn't a common color combination, and maybe that had been part of the appeal for Shego. As for plasma, the only type that Kim encountered was at her mother's job or in the occasional science textbook.
Dr. Drakken made a few attempts at a comeback, but without Shego in his corner, he finally found himself directly in the path of Kim's martial arts prowess. Needless to say, he wasn't as good as taking the hits, and Kim secretly thought they were both very relieved that he got out of the business of evil early.
It took a long time for Ron to accept that Kim actually missed Shego. But that was understandable; if Monkey Fist ever went missing, Ron would simply have a party and then move on. But Monkey Fist wasn't Shego. No one was. The thought that Kim would never meet another person like her was comforting and painful at the same time. She finally understood what Shego had felt like, walking around with only half a soul. But it didn't upset her like she thought it would. And besides, if there was anything that would make Shego rise from the dead to blast someone, it would be Kim intentionally hurting herself, or trying to end her own life in a misguided attempt to be reunited.
Even if Shego was gone, Kim still had a promise to keep. She had to live, for Shego, for herself, and so Crawford and Long could see that some mistakes were good ones, if they were still watching.
Mrs. Dr. Possible was used to being paged when she was needed. While she didn't prefer it when people in the hospital rushed up and demanded she help them or someone else, she was a doctor first and a woman with preferences second.
And when Ron had that worried, confused look on his face, well, she was all too ready to help in most cases. Especially since the last time she'd seen him, he and Kim had been heading out to deal with Professor Dementor.
Which meant it could be about Kim being hurt.
Ron must've known what she was thinking, because the first thing he did was attempt to put her at ease.
“Kim isn't hurt, Mrs. Dr. P, but…she'd REALLY like to see you now.”
“Does not being hurt include not having grown an extra arm, or having the normal ones fall off painlessly?” she couldn't help asking.
Ron blinked as he lead the way. “I'm pretty sure I would've noticed if it was that. Kim showed me what was wrong…several times. And it doesn't hurt, so much as it…makes her a true superhero.”
Mrs. Possible stopped short. “Ronald, are you going to tell me-”
“Kim has Shego's plasma!” Ron blurted out. “Well, not hers, the color is off, but she's the only one we knew who had it, and I just assumed-”
“Show me.”
Ron led her to a room at the end of the hall. “I'll, um, wait out here.” He lowered his voice. “She's not real good at controlling it yet, but we're hopeful.”
Mrs. Possible took a deep breath and entered the room, only to find her daughter thumbing through a pamphlet on sunburns. “Kimmie?”
Kim looked up and smiled. “Hi, Mom. Um, I thought you should see this.” Shifting the pamphlet to her right hand, she fully extended her arm. Instantly, the pamphlet vanished in a swirling cloud of red and black ion gas. “It started during the mission. Mostly it reacts to clenching and unclenching my fist. But it only seems to work when I'm pointing in a certain direction.”
“It doesn't hurt?” Mrs. Possible asked helplessly, touching Kim's knee.
Kim laid her head against her mother's arm. “No, I'm fine. It just…reminds me of Shego, that's all.”
“I'm sorry, honey,” Mrs. Possible murmured, kissing the top of her head.
“It's okay. I feel closer to her, a little.” Kim bit her lip. “Mom, I need to tell you something. It's pretty big.”
“Is it bigger than this?”
“Well…it sorta explains this. It's more about Shego than me. Oh, and you'll want to be sitting for this.”
“I've got it figured out!” Wade announced, sounding pleased with himself. “Your arm is acting like a metal detector, Kim. When you point in the right direction, which happens to be east, it reacts.”
“So what's to the east?” Kim asked.
“That's the weird part,” Wade replied. “As it just so happens, your next mission. There's an orphanage requesting you.”
“For what, mentoring?” Kim guessed.
“Not exactly. One of the newer kids is throwing a tantrum that's about a five on the Richter scale. At least, that's how they described it. They can't do anything with her.”
“Well, babysitting I can do. I guess that includes ending tantrums of all types. This shouldn't be too hard. Tell Ron I'll handle this one solo. I don't want him to have a cousin Shawn flashback on me.”
“She's never acted this way before,” explained the woman that led Kim past a crowd of nervous children. “She was always a quiet child, and kept mostly to herself, but she never gave us any problems.”
“So no idea what set her off, Ms. Tatum?” Kim asked, smiling at a few kids whose eyes widened as she passed them.
“All we know is it happened roughly a minute into finger painting,” the woman answered. “We've never done that before, one of our foster couples suggested it.”
“What's her name?”
Ms. Tatum paused. “She either wouldn't or couldn't give us one. Most of the staff calls her Emmy, though.”
“Any reason why?”
“Short for Emerald. She's nuts about anything green. We made sure she had plenty of green paint, but she was still upset. I think she's just about all cried out now. You should be able to talk to her.”
“I don't mean to brag, but she wouldn't happen to be a fan, would she?”
Ms. Tatum chuckled softly. “I'd hoped that would be the case. But I can't ever recall her mentioning you.”
“Don't worry, I'm great at first impressions,” Kim assured her. “Just leave everything to me.”
“Well, she's in there,” Ms. Tatum said, pointing to a nearby room. “Good luck. I hope you really can do anything.”
Kim decided not to add that she hoped the same as she slipped into the room. At once, she could she why she'd been summoned.
Chairs had been tossed about the room, and there were large, drying paint puddles splattered on nearly all of the desks. At the far end of the room sat a young, raven-haired girl with her head on a desk. Even from that distance, Kim could see dark green paint smeared all over her thin legs.
Kim hesitantly ventured forward, although she made no real effort to be extra quiet. The last thing she wanted was to startle the girl and restart this whole mess.
But Emmy didn't move, not even when Kim entered her line of sight. She did look exhausted, as Ms. Tatum had suspected, but also very upset.
Kim took a moment to look the girl over, and spotted more dark green paint caked on her arms. Her hands were strangely clean, though. Then she noticed the completely blank piece of white construction paper on the desk, and something clicked in her mind.
“They didn't have your shade, huh?” Kim asked softly.
Emmy's startlingly green eyes flicked up at her, and then down to the desk again. She absently brushed her red, tear-streaked cheeks with the back of her hand, but said nothing.
Kim knelt in front of desk, smiling hopefully. “Mind if I try?” There was no protest, so she eased the girl's mixing tray away, and began to mix green and white in an empty spot.
“I tried that,” Emmy reported sadly. “Not light enough.”
“I see.” Kim left the tray alone. “So were you upset because they didn't have your shade, and you couldn't mix it yourself with what they gave you?”
Emmy nodded. “I never start a picture if I don't have all the right colors. It'd be pointless.”
“What was your picture going to be?”
“A frog. I need a really light green for his belly.”
“Are you sure it's not for you?” Kim asked quietly, tapping her green elbow lightly.
Emmy's cheeks flushed, and she quickly shoved her hands under the desk.
“Don't be ashamed. People change their color all the time. It's just that they usually do it through tanning.”
“I don't want to be tan. I want to be light green,” Emmy said, poking out her bottom lip and letting it quiver a bit.
Kim resisted the urge to say she'd invented that look. “How about we compromise?”
Emmy eyed her warily. “What you got?”
Kim smirked at her. “As an act of good faith, I give you a present. Then we get out of here, get you some paint you can work with, and have a sleepover at my place. If you want to come back here tomorrow, we will. If you don't, I'll make some calls and see what I can do.”
Emmy took a long time to answer. “What kind of present?”
“I think you'll like it.” Kim reached into her mission bag and pulled out a pair of night vision shades Wade had invented. “It won't make you green, but it's the next best thing.”
Emmy put on the shades and gasped. “Everything's green!” She waved a hand before her eyes and squealed excitedly. “It's my shade!”
Kim dug out her Kimmunicator. “Wade? Situation handled. Oh, and tell Mom to expect one more for dinner.”
“Sure. No problems, then?” Wade asked.
“No,” Kim said softly, looking over to find Emmy still admiring her hands. “Just a little amensia…but I guess that's to be expected.”
“What'd you say?”
“Nothing, Wade. We'll talk later.” Kim sighed as she ended the call, then put on a bright smile. “Hey, Emmy. Can I ask you something?”
Emmy paused and looked at her. “I guess.”
Kim held out her hand. “Do you trust me?”
Emmy didn't move. “Um…no. But…I want to.”
“I made a promise to someone once. She's…gone now, but I still want to keep it. And I think the only way to do that is if I look out for you. But I can't if you won't let me.”
“No one ever…wanted me before,” Emmy said quietly, staring at the floor.
“Sometimes things change. Sometimes for the best.” Kim lowered her hand and stood up. “If you don't want to come with me, that's fine. Keep the shades. Just don't make this a habit, okay?” She turned and headed for the door, only to feel a small hand grab hers.
“You owe me some paint,” Emmy declared with a frown.
“That was assuming you came with me,” Kim pointed out. “Are you coming with me?”
“Okay,” Emmy decided after a moment's thought. “But I STILL don't trust you. What's your name, anyway?”
“Kim. Kim Possible.”
Emmy stopped short.
“You don't like it?” Kim asked slowly.
Emmy stared at her for a long moment. “You look more like a Kimmie to me. I'm gonna call you that.”
“I've been called worse,” Kim reasoned with a smile.
“You know, I think this might actually work, Long.”
“Of course it will, Crawford. It was MY idea.”
“Oh, really? I seem to recall putting souls in a younger, separate body was something I did first. And as I recall, that was to clean up YOUR mess, wasn't it?”
“No one likes a bragger, Crawford.”
“Just admit that I was right. Admit that Shego living as long as she did was a good thing.”
“I will not! She was a horrible child, and she became a horrible woman…which she shouldn't have been allowed to do! Why do you think I took away her powers? So she couldn't blast me again if we ever bring her back here, that's why!”
“That's just childish. I suppose you're going to take back what little power Kim has?”
“Naturally. It led her to the child. There is no longer any reason for her to keep it.”
“Well, if you must take it back, then you must. But promise me one thing, Long.”
“What's that, Crawford?”
“DON'T do it by throwing a rock at her.”
“Oh, you're just NEVER going to let that go, are you?”
Endnotes: This is one of those endings I only half-planned for. That usually spells trouble, but we'll see. Initially, the title only referred to Kim and Shego being halved, but now I think it also refers to them being siblings as well. I suppose I could have had a scene where Emmy actually enters the Possible home, and if I lose enough sleep over it and get enough complaints, I just might.