Professor Dementor had been having a very nice dream.
In it, he was standing over a sleeping Kim Possible's crib. He had watched the toddler in silence for a moment, before pointing the baby ray at her and pulling the trigger. Then he'd watched with an almost maniacal grin as she shrank until she no longer existed.
And while the dream was still very much a real possibility, Professor Dementor awoke to find that his reality was not so rewarding.
He immediately found his limbs were bound with some sort of thick tape, as was his mouth. The reason for this was all too clear.
Shego was sitting on his chest, looking quite bored.
“Oh, good. You're up. Let's play a game.” She leaned forward and glared into his eyes. “You have ten fingers. I have no patience. I'll ask questions, you give answers. Every answer I don't like, you'll know.” She seized his hand in a deathgrip.
Professor Dementor's eyes widened just a bit.
“Question one. Did you shoot Kim Possible with a baby ray?”
Slowly, he nodded.
Without really thinking about it, she grabbed his left pinky and snapped it, drawing a muffled moan of pain from him.
“Where did you shoot her? Raise one finger for the front, two for the back.”
Fearfully, he slowly held up two fingers, both of which were instantly broken as well.
Shego ignored the pitiful look on his face. “How many people have you bragged to about this?”
All the color drained out of his face.
“That many, huh?” Shego muttered. “Well, you don't have that many fingers left…”
He looked relieved.
“But I've never broken toes before. Could be fun.”
He shook his head desperately.
“Don't wanna do that? I guess we could go with Option C. How do you feel about radical plastic surgery? I hear it's all the rage. Now, where did I put my knife?” She began searching her costume while Professor Dementor squirmed beneath her.
Suddenly, Shego paused. “Oh, you know what? Silly me. It's not PLASTIC surgery. It's more like PLASMA surgery.” With that, she raised a glowing green hand. “Pucker up, Prof. I'm gonna make you famous. You'll be the only evil genius without a face.”
Despite Shego's best intentions, the tape did little to block out the screams that followed…
Kim Possible was having a very bad dream.
She was standing atop a pyramid of cheerleaders, smiling big and looking pretty.
And then she wet herself.
Even the disgusted cries of her fellow cheerleaders weren't loud enough to block out that lone voice of triumph.
“What's that matter, Kimmie?” Bonnie asked with a sneer. “Have a little accident? Too many sodas before bedtime?”
Kim tried to turn away, but instead of all her classmates, the bleachers were full of her greatest foes, from Adrena Lynn to the Seniors. And they were all pointing and laughing.
“Bedwetter!” Jack Hench cried.
“I cannot believe I ever wanted to be with such a baby!” Junior Senior said in horror.
Unable to run, Kim merely sank to the floor and hid her face in her hands, while the jeering crowd grew louder and louder.
Then she woke up, and realized that the truth was so much worse.
She hadn't wet the bed after all, but that was no real comfort. She was still trapped inside a toddler's body, and for some reason, she couldn't move around very much, either. Kim wanted to grab her hair and scream, but it didn't come out that way. Instead, the only way her body could think to express itself was to let out a miserable little whimper of warning to whoever might be listening.
Seconds later, a hand began to stroke her hair softly. “Shh. It's okay, Kim,” a familiar voice whispered. “Everything will be fine.”
Kim sniffled, flinching when she realized that her nose was running. She looked up to see Monique staring down at her, smiling gently. Well, that was sort of good, she decided at once. On one hand, she could trust Monique not to tell anyone about this. On the other hand, she didn't like the thought of anyone seeing her like this.
Monique wiped Kim's nose with a soft cloth. “You look a little restless, girl. But I can't really blame you. You are having an out-of-body experience, sort of. We need something to calm you down.”
Kim wholly agreed. She didn't want to go back to sleep, not where that awful dream would be waiting on her. She could almost still hear Bonnie's laughter in her ears.
Monique carefully lifted Kim to sit in her lap. “I don't want you to worry, Kim. Wade's working around the clock on a way to get you back, and until then, I'll take care of you, with Ron's help.”
Kim couldn't decide if that pleased her or not. Ron was her best friend and all, but after the diaper incident, she wasn't sure how much help he'd be. Still, it would be nice to have a laugh or two, especially now. They'd had a great time, once Ron figured out that her little body was ticklish virtually everywhere.
“I've been reading baby books,” Monique went on. “They say constant physical contact with a mother is really important for little kids. It keeps them calm, and lets them know they're safe. More than anything, I want you to know that you're safe with me. Even if I'm not your mom.”
In all honestly, Kim did feel fairly safe, just by being in Monique's lap. Maybe there was something to those books after all. But the thought of her mother just made her miss her old body even more. With another whimper, she buried her face in Monique's nightshirt.
“Oh, Kim, what's wrong, sweetie?” Monique asked, a hint of panic in her voice. She clearly hadn't been prepared for the sudden mood swing. Kim hadn't, either, but neither of them was thinking of that now. Monique drew Kim into her arms, resting her head lightly on Kim's. Even as she began to hum softly and rock Kim back and forth, Monique suspected she knew what was wrong.
“You need your mom, don't you, Kim?” Monique asked softly.
Swallowing a sob, Kim nodded.
“You want me to call her now?”
Kim started to nod again. Started to, anyway. And then she noticed something in Monique's eyes. Something she didn't like at all.
Pain.
At first, Kim couldn't understand why Monique would be hurting. It came to her quickly, though. That constant physical contact worked both ways. The moms needed it, too. They needed their children to need them in return. And maybe Monique wasn't Kim's real mother, but she had been for the last few hours. If nothing else, she was trying her hardest.
Maybe it was time for Kim to try a little, too. Despite her current situation, the hug had helped, and Kim knew it wouldn't feel as good if Monique was sad.
She wanted Monique to know how much all the care was appreciated. But all she could come up with was, “Kimmie love Mo-Mo.” And while Kim was silently cursing her limited speech capacity, she missed the shocked look on Monique's face.
“I…I love you, too, Kim,” Monique whispered, as if just realizing it herself.
Kim grinned up at her, resisting the urge to pick her nose. Somehow, it just didn't seem appropriate at the time. “Call later. Sleep now.”
“Okay. Are you sure you can sleep now?”
Kim wanted to reply with her usual, “So not the drama.” What came out was, “Kimmie okies. Kimmie with Mo-Mo.” Which was more how she felt at the moment, but she still hadn't meant to say it. Apparently toddlers just blurted out whatever they felt. Or maybe that was only toddlers who were teenagers the previous day.
Monique arranged the pillows so that Kim would fit snugly between them and her, without being in danger of rolling off of the bed. It was an unnecessary step, however, since Kim got a firm grip on Monique's nightshirt before falling asleep.
Next Chapter: Monique tells Mrs. Possible about Kim, and someone has to give Kim a bath.