Apocolocyntosis

Dr. Richard Vedas stood outside the large bulkhead doors that protected the ‘Operative Ring’ of Global Justice headquarters from the interior ‘Command Center’. He was dressed nicely -- he always dressed nicely, really -- with his long mane of hair pulled in a ponytail behind him and a simple suit without a tie. Seeing as he was coming to see people who ran around all day in two piece blue jumpsuits, he didn’t feel the need to bring one.

But apparently he needed to bring a arc welder.

“Hey! I was invited, you know,” he yelled to the doorway.

A speaker crackled slightly. “Sorry, Dr. Vedas, we need command approval to open the door now and we're just waiting for someone to arrive. I know you're welcome here.”

“I thought this was a completely automated facility,” said Rick, irritated.

“Not since the bombing it hasn't been,” said the voice. Rick suddenly got the feeling he was in the Wizard of Oz.

“Six months and you still haven't rebuilt the Emerald City?” asked Rick.

“Emerald City?” asked the voice.

“Never mind,” said Rick.

“Oh, here she is, just a moment.”

Rick took a step back. He knew the doors slid to the side, but he wanted to be cautious in case they had changed that since his last visit. A loud horn sounded and the scraping of metal marked the glacial move of the doors to either side.

“Betty,” said Rick as soon as there was a gap in the door big enough to lecture through. “I thought that we agreed that I wouldn't have to come down here anym--” he stopped. “Jennifer?”

“Hello, Dr. Vedas,” said the long brown haired woman standing before him. She was dressed in a women's suit, also with no tie and had her long wavy hair falling behind her. Jennifer Cartwright was the Second-in-Command of Global Justice. Rick had met her a few months earlier at the conclusion of the Mantle of Tenoch debacle. She smiled courteously.

“Uh, call me Rick,” said Rick.

Jennifer motioned to her side down the corridor. “This way, Richard.” She turned and started walking. Rick stepped up beside her.

“I said call me Rick,” he said wit a smile. “You said ‘Richard.'”

“Very observant,” nodded Jennifer. She still had on the same smile. Rick just shrugged.

“I didn't expect you to be here,” said Rick.

“I guessed from the way you called me ‘Betty,'” she replied.

“Well, sometimes I just call people Betty to see how they react,” joked Rick.

“How do they react?” asked Jennifer.

“Just like you.”

“I'm the only one, huh?” said Jennifer. They reached a security door and she entered in a passkey releasing the lock.

“Pretty much.” Jennifer opened the door and Rick stepped through. “So,” he started again. “You're here.”

“We've established that already,” nodded Jennifer.

“Yes, I know. But, why are you here?”

“I work for Global Justice.”

Rick stopped and stared at Jennifer with disbelief. She turned and looked back. “You aren't going to drop this, are you?” she asked, finally losing the smile.

“You're the SIC,” said Rick, throwing his arms in the air. “You're first in line for command of North American operations of GJ, which just about makes you and Betty the two most powerful agents in the world. I was told that you can't be in the same place as her unless there is an emergency.” He hesitated. “There isn't an emergency, is there?”

Jennifer shook her head. “No.”

“Then?” asked Rick.

Jennifer sighed. “I'm not the SIC anymore,” she said plainly. Rick frowned but she continued. “It's a long story. And unfortunately…” she motioned to the frosted-glass double doors beside her. Written on the door was, simply: “Dr. Elizabeth Director, CIC”.

Rick looked at the door and then at Jennifer. “I'm just going to ask her,” he said.

“Then she can tell you.” Jennifer opened the doors revealing the remarkably cluttered office for GJ. A very large desk was situated in the middle of the room behind which, (Rick believed) sat Betty, though she was somewhat obscured by towers of paper. A few pieces of other furniture were in the room as well, including three chairs and a familiar leather couch with some charring on it. A large glass window covered the back wall, behind Betty, which showed the GJ command room, still under construction.

“Bets,” said Jennifer, motioning for Rick to enter. “Rick's here.”

Rick sighed and looked flabbergasted. “Now she calls me Rick.”

“Thank you, Jennifer,” said Betty, standing.

“Let me know when you're leaving so I can escort you out,” said Jennifer to Rick. He frowned.

“You're not coming in?” asked Rick.

“I don't need to. I've already been briefed.”

“Briefed on what?” asked Rick, but Jennifer just started to leave. “See you later Dr. Vedas.”

Rick sighed again to the closed door.

“Sit down, Richard,” said Betty. He sat in one of the chairs in front of her desk and leaned back a little. Betty had known Rick for nearly twenty years, she never called him ‘Rick.’ He didn't even try anymore.

“What's going on with Jennifer?” asked Rick. “She said she's not SIC anymore.”

Betty shook her head and flipped through a file on her desk. “Don't worry about it,” she said.

“You trust her, don't you?” asked Rick.

“It has nothing to do with whether I trust her or not.”

“Then what?” insisted Rick.

“It's political.”

“Political?” Rick couldn't believe it. “Since when you do give even two seconds of your time to--”

“Dammit, Richard!” snapped Betty, closing her file hard. “This isn't what I asked you here to talk about.” She breathed and looked up slowly at Rick. “You're not involved here anymore, you don't get to be a critic.”

Rick nodded conciliatorily. “I'm sorry, you're right.”

Betty pushed her files to the side and leaned on her desk, adopting a more casual pose. “It's the Shego thing.”

“What is?” frowned Rick.

“Everything is,” said Betty. “Jennifer let Shego go after the end of the WEE incident. It's come to blow up in her face.”

“I was there,” said Rick. “I realize that letting a criminal go is not standard procedure, but she had been fighting for us and she gave up Drakken. There was a strong chance GJ could have spun that relationship into something bigger. It was the right thing to do.”

“Shego has over a dozen warrants for her arrest in eleven countries,” said Betty, shaking her head.

“You don't answer to the governments of those countries,” Rick pointed out.

“Yes, but some of those countries are where we have facilities.”

“Facilities?”

“Agents, Richard,” said Betty, forcefully. “We have people in those countries.”

“So what?” Rick frowned. “Your bases are exceptionally well hidden. Most countries that you set up shop in know you're there but they have no idea where. What's the worst that could happen?”

“They could actually look for us,” said Betty. Rick blinked. “The governments of Spain, Denmark, Austria, Turkey, Jordian, Syria, the UAE, Egypt… they all know we're there, but they like us, so they don't look.” Betty sighed. “You remember the oversight committee?”

Rick nodded.

“Not every country we operate in is represented in that committee. They couldn't be, or we'd have to rent a concert hall to hold meetings in.” Betty leaned back in her chair. “The other countries… we have an informal agreement with them. We help them out, they don't look for us. Trust me, if they did look, we couldn't stay hidden.”

Rick frowned but nodded. “I had no idea.”

“I know,” said Betty, smiling weakly. “Because you don’t work here anymore. You haven't been here since the age of terrorism came upon us. It's a different world now.”

Rick laughed quietly. “Trust me, if you knew how many people in history have said those exact words to justify--” he cut himself off. “I won't criticize.”

“You could… if you came back,” said Betty, quietly. She looked up at him. “I could reactivate your agent status. You and I could… I mean, we always worked well together.”

“I'm not a company man,” said Rick, sadly. “I have too many centuries of vigilante in my blood. You know I was always at odds with CIC Vernon back when we were agents. It would be the same between us, believe me.”

“Vernon didn't appreciate your advice,” said Betty.

Rick moved his chair forward and leaned on Betty's desk. “Do you know what the real curse of experience is?”

Betty raised a brow.

“The more I know, the less people want to hear what I have to say.” Rick looked evenly at Betty. “Jennifer resigned her position, didn't she?”

“Yes,” nodded Betty. “To keep me from having to ask her.”

“Because the OLC would have forced you to, even though you know what she did was right at the time,” said Rick. Betty nodded. “See?”

Betty laughed once. “I wish my life was as simple as yours,” she said.

“No, you don't,” smiled Rick.

“You're right.” She nodded.

“So, you asked me here to ask me to come back to GJ?” said Rick.

“No, not really, that was just a bonus,” laughed Betty. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Kim.”

“Ah.” Rick leaned back in his own chair. “The famous Miss Possible.”

---

The room was larger than she had remembered it, and it took a few minutes for her to realize that it was a different room entirely. There were several beds in this room, all with patients hooked up to elaborate devices and drip bags with the dull throb of machinery echoing through the room. These were people that time had forgot, stored almost like old merchandise in a strangely sterile room. They were even labeled, once on the end of the bed, and once on their wrists where small tabs of plastic noted their names and patient numbers.

There was only one person truly alive in the room, a red-headed girl sitting beside one of the beds, and she was sleeping. She lying against the bed with her head on her arm and an open book resting in her hand. It was strangely peaceful looking, or, conversely, horribly perverse. As if the pending death in the room had just reached out and snatched the life from the girl's body.

The patient in the bed the girl was sleeping beside was an old woman, probably in her seventies, with long wavy silver hair, bold black eyebrows, and a pale face that still retained a lot of beauty, even with the long drawn lines beside her eyes and around her mouth. Her figure was long and slim, with some provocative lines beneath the sheet despite her advanced age. She would be the epitome of health and beauty for a seventy five year old.

Except that she was not yet thirty.

Shego looked down at the body -- her body --- and tried to work up some emotion, any emotion at all, but failed. She wasn't sure if it was shock or just an inability to recognize the form before her as her own. Either way, she felt dreadful. She had wanted to return here for so long, but now… she felt a terrible desire to run away and flee back to that other world where she was young, confident, and a proud mother of two. But that wasn't an option. She couldn't go back, she didn't know how. There was only one place to go now: forward.

Shego raised her astral arm and hesitantly brought it towards the old woman on the bed but hesitated at the last minute. She looked down at the girl beside her. Kim Possible. What was she doing here? Stoppable had said her brothers had come, but there was no sign of it. No flowers, no cards, nothing but a stack of books on the bedside table and the unconscious form of her rival.

Had she expected more? Shego hadn't made many friends in her life. She'd be hard pressed to think of more than a couple. Maybe Drakken was her friend? He certainly seemed to treat her as such and… reluctantly, she'd done the same to him. Senior Senior Junior, perhaps? Angela Lipsky?

Reaching back farther, she thought about her time as part of Team Go. She used to think she had friends at VersaGene, but that turned out to be a lie. When she thought back to that time, the only person who ever honestly confided in her was Bella Negra, and she was a villain, her rival.

And yet, lying here next to her bed was another rival. The only sign that people even noticed she'd been gone.

Rather than depress herself further, Shego just closed her eyes and pushed her spectral hand into the old body before her.

---

With a start, the world snapped like a whip and an incredible heaviness settled on her chest. Cool air cut her throat like a knife and she wanted to scream rather than breathe.

So she did.

“AAUG-kaoff! GAK!”

Or tried to. Her throat felt incredibly sore and dry and she reached up to hold her throat instinctively.

The girl beside her bolted upright and blinked quickly to clear the sleep from her eyes. “Wha-What? I wasn't sleeping!” she said strangely. The old woman ignored her, though, as she looked around through her own bleary eyes for something to drink.

The girl finally noticed the woman moving around and looked at her with wide eyes. “Sh-Shego?” she said, almost afraid of the word.

Shego ignored whoever was talking and squinted slightly as she peered about. Things got slightly clearer… but not entirely.

“Shego!” repeated the girl, who then stood and leaned over the bed. “Are you alright?” She sounded worried now. “Why are you holding your throat?”

Shego looked at the girl with an angry scowl. Clearly she was thirsty. Wasn't this the universal sign for ‘gimme a drink I might be choking?’

Strangely, the girl suddenly righted herself. “Hold on, I'll get you some water,” she said. Then fled out the door.

Alone, Shego tried to orient herself but she was terribly confused. What had happened? Why did she feel so weak and lethargic? Was she suffering a concussion? Her vision was blurred, it could be a side effect of a concussion. Was that just Kim Possible beside her? This is probably all her fault.

A moment later, the girl came back in with a glass. Shego couldn't see clearly but saw a whip of her long red hair and felt safe in assuming she was Possible.

The glass was pushed into her hands and she raised to her lips, slurping it down vigorously.

“Slowly,” said the girl who must be Kim. “Don't choke.”

Shego ignored her and drained the glass completely. She never knew water could taste so good. It was exactly what she needed and the cool feeling down her throat was somewhat calming. She sighed as she handed the glass back to Kim.

The calming feeling didn’t last long. “What the hell happened to me, Kimme?” she croaked. Some things danced in her memory, but they had yet to align properly for her to recall.

Kim sat down slowly and frowned at her. “You're in the hospital,” she said.

“No kidding? I figured that part out already, genius!” snapped Shego. “Why am I in the hospital?”

“You were in a coma, Shego,” said Kim. “Six months.”

“A coma?!” said Shego, getting worked up. She tried to sit upright but felt too weak to do so, so she simply rose her voice. “How did I end up in a coma?”

Kim looked sadly at her. Shego couldn't see her expression clearly but could almost feel the sympathy. “You really don't remember?” she said.

Shego frowned but let herself stop and think. What was the last thing she remembered? There was… something about a … tank? And… an explosion she caused.

“I blew myself up?” asked Shego, a little confused.

“What?” said Kim. Shego took it from her tone of voice that it wasn't right. But she did remember an explosion. And something else… someone with her?

“You put on the Mantle of Tenoch,” said Kim, finally.

“The Mantle of…” started Shego, but she didn't finish because then she remembered. Everything flooded back into her brain at the mention of that cursed helmet. She remembered the horrible pain of being yanked from her body forcefully. She remembered being thrust into someone else's life in another world she didn't understand. Place after place after place she traveled, never sure how long she'd stay, never feeling comfortable or at ease. She remembered six worlds of tragedy she thought she'd die in. She remembered more worlds of misery and confusion and one world, when she thought she had found peace.

“Oh… my god,” said Shego, bringing hands to her face and burying it in them. She felt two years of emotion flood her and she couldn't control it at all and it wracked her body in choking sobs.

“Shego?” said Kim, unsure of herself. “Are you okay?”

Just then the door opened and a doctor and several nurses barged in. They quickly went to Shego's side, pushing Kim away, and checked her equipment before examining her. After a few moments, Kim realized this could take a while and backed out of the room and into the hall.

---

“Hey, Kim,” said Monique as she met Kim for their first period class. She did a double-take at her compatriot. “Woah, you look more dazed than usual.”

Kim blinked and then shook her head. “Sorry, didn't mean to faze out there. It's just that… well, Shego woke up yesterday.”

“She did?” asked Monique, surprised. Then she paused. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I'm not sure yet,” said Kim. “I'm glad she's awake, but I'm not sure if… well, what she's going to do now. I didn't get a chance to really talk to her after the doctors came barging in.”

“Did she seem alright?” asked Monique. She had to admit, this was an odd conversation, asking about the health of someone who'd threatened her life more than a couple times. But Kim had been going to her hospital room almost every day for a while now to read to her, so she accepted that it was a paradigm shift for her.

“She was…” Kim trailed off. “I couldn’t say.”

“Well, hopefully you can talk to her today, right?” asked Monique.

“Yeah,” nodded Kim. “I guess.”

The door at the front of the room opened and Dr. Rick walked in quickly. He was late, again. His hair was tied up in a ponytail, which was a new look for him. The ‘Dr. Rick Fan Crowd’, as his admirers had come to be known, sighed in unison.

“Good morning, everyone,” he said, putting his leather briefcase on the desk and pulling a rubber-banded stack of papers from it. “Today's an exciting day for everyone, I'm sure. Seeing as I finally graded all your midterms.”

Even the fan crowd groaned.

“Aww, it's not that bad,” smiled Rick, sympathetically. “Most of you passed by at least a few points.” He pulled the rubber band off the stack and looked at the name on the top paper. “Kelly?” he called out.

Like suddenly stricken with a deadly disease, Kelly Roberts stood and walked solemnly forward to get her paper.

---

Shego felt the weight on the bridge of her nose and wrinkled it experimentally. She looked up at the, now clear, face of her young doctor, a Dr. James Alvares. He was a tall slightly overweight man with a cute face and dark skin. She blinked.

“How bad is it?” asked Shego, ominously.

“They're only glasses,” said Dr. Alvares, shaking his head with a smile. He wrote something on her chart.

“They're bottleneck glasses, aren't they?” she asked.

“You have a slight stigmatism,” said the doctor. “And you can get a new pair once we dismiss you. We don't base you diagnosis on style.”

“Well you should,” said Shego. “Look at this gown. Flower patterns? Honestly.” She shook her head. “Even Kimmie has better fashion sense.”

The doctor just ignored her, has he had quickly learned to do when she was spouting irritated words. He moved down the bed to look at her bandaged ankle, feeling it for swelling.

“Hey!” snapped Shego. “That hurt!”

“You're lucky this is all you hurt,” said the doctor. “I know you're not used to it, but at your age you could have broken your hip with a fall like that.”

“I can't believe this,” said Shego, angry. “Is there any part of me that's not brittle as glass now?”

“Old age is fairly degenerative disease,” said the doctor. “Although, you were spared the most of it. You were in pretty excellent health before… whatever it was that aged you, and consequently you're in pretty excellent health for a woman your age.” He checked his chart. “Minimal muscle atrophy, even for spending six months in a coma, no sign of organ trouble, heart palpitations, osteoporosis, or even liver spots. Pretty good for an apparent age of near eighty.”

“And an actual age of not yet thirty,” reminded Shego. “So, if you're trying to get me to see the bright side of this, you're out of luck.”

The doctor shrugged. “There's nothing we can do about that,” he said. “You're going to have to get used to it.”

“We'll see about that.” Shego looked away, folding her arms.

“Just… don't try to climb out any more windows, please,” said the doctors. “Our nurses don't need the trouble.”

“Whatever.”

Without another word the doctor slipped back out of the room, leaving Shego to her thoughts.

---

The bell rang all too soon for Dr. Rick, who had only gotten partially through the lesson he had planned, but not soon enough for his students. “I guess we'll pick up here tomorrow then,” he said, closing his book.

The class stood almost in unison as they packed their bags and started heading for the door. Dr. Rick saw a wrapped gift placed on his desk which he kindly put into his briefcase to be carefully disposed of later. It was cute the first few times when one of his admirers had sent him some trinket. It was less amusing when one of his admirer's boyfriends decided to leave a stink bomb. Ah, high school, mused Rick.

A mop of red hair caught his eye and he turned. “Ah, Kim, can you stay for a second.”

Kim nodded and approached his desk as the rest of the students departed. “What is it, Dr. Rick?”

“Looks, it's… been a while since that whole thing with Gemini,” started Rick, looking somewhat uncomfortable. “How are you holding up?”

Kim smiled. “I'm fine,” she said. “You know that sort of stuff used to happen to me all the time.”

“I got the impression that it hadn't,” said Rick. “And I can't help but notice that you haven't been vanishing from class as much as Mr. Barkin says you typically do.”

“I don't get that many calls anymore,” said Kim. “Gives me more time to focus on my school work and college admissions.”

“Still filling out applications?” asked Rick. It was the start of February, most students of her caliber would have heard about early admission already.

“Yeah,” nodded Kim. “Every now and then my dad comes home with another one from a university one of his co-workers recommends. I've already gotten into several schools, actually, I just haven't decided which I'm going to pursue.”

“Well, if I can put in a good word for Edwin Garris,” started Rick.

Kim laughed. “It's in the running, as is Upperton University, in the same area.”

“UU?” asked Rick. “Pursuing a medical degree?”

“It's my mom's alma mater,” said Kim. “Hard to resist the pressure.”

“I understand that,” nodded Rick. He smiled but looked at her tenderly. “Kim, are you really okay?”

Kim nodded. “I'm really fine.” She looked up at the clock on the wall. “I also really need to get to my next class.”

“Go, then,” said Rick, waving. “I won't keep you anymore.”

Kim nodded then quickly left. Rick watched after her and then shook his head.

“Fine. Lie to me, then.”

---

A knock came at the door followed abruptly by the sound of it opening. Shego's hand lashed out and grabbed the top book on her table and flung it at the intruder. “For god's sake!” she swore. “I do NOT want to see another damn doctor!”

The figure at the door dodged barely out of the way and Shego squinted to see who it was. She didn't care for the dumb glasses and refused to wear them at every opportunity.

“Doctors of medicine or just doctors in general?” asked the figure with a woman's voice. A familiar woman's voice.

Shego swallowed her pride and put on the large, thick-rimmed glasses.

“Doctor Director,” said Shego, looking at the woman in the blue jumpsuit. “I'd have to say, ‘doctors in general,’ then.”

“Shame,” said Dr. Director, closing the hospital room door behind her. “But of little concern to me.”

“I imagined.” Shego rolled her eyes. “Here to arrest me?”

“That's certainly an option,” said Dr. Director. “It would make the oversight committee jump with joy, for sure. But that's not your only choice.”

“Okay… I'm listening.”

Dr. Director pulled over a chair and sat beside Shego's bed. “To be honest, we didn't expect you to recover, so the OLC is frantically trying to decide what to do with you, which puts me in a good position to make some persuasive suggestions regarding your future.”

“What future?” asked Shego, looking down at her own body. “I probably have ten years, tops.”

“Ten, possibly valuable, years,” said Dr. Director. “We know that the purpose of the Mantle of Tenoch is to separate the spirit from the body. I'd be quite fascinated to know exactly where yours went.”

Shego narrowed her eyes at the leader of Global Justice. “And what do I get in exchange for this information?”

“A very well designed room in our headquarters,” said Dr. Director. “And all your needs taken care of for the remainder of your life.”

“As long as I say inside my ‘well designed room,’ right?” asked Shego.

“Yes,” replied Dr Director, plainly. “Let's not be fooling ourselves, you have outstanding warrants for your arrest and plenty of crimes to answer for. This is a significant reprieve from those charges.”

“Seems like the same as doing jail time,” said Shego, scornfully.

“If you truly believe that, you're free to visit Drakken's cell.”

“You still have him?” Shego asked, confused. “He's not that useful, is he?”

“Not at all,” said Dr. Director. “We actually have been holding onto him for a rather stupid reason.”

“That being…?”

Dr. Director sighed. “None of countries arguing over him are willing to give up their right to execute him.”

“Execute?” said Shego, shocked.

“Yes,” nodded Dr. Director. “For he most part, his multiple attempts at world domination were seen as treason, which is an executable offense in many countries. Including the US.” She looked to the side. “They're all squabbling over who has the ‘most’ right to take him to trial.”

“Hah,” laughed Shego. It was a morbid thought, but somewhat appropriate for her former employer. “So, do I have any other options?”

“I understand that there are nice jails in Singapore where you stole that industrial circuit board designing machine.”

“Har, har,” said Shego.

“There is another option, which I doubt will hold much interest for you,” continued Dr. Director.

“What's that?”

“Become an agent of GJ,” said Dr. Director.

Shego blinked. “A what?”

“Not a field agent, obviously, but a consultant, on matters of villainy.”

“You should hear yourself. ‘Matters of villainy.'” Shego scoffed.

“It's the only option that guarantees you some degree of unsupervised freedom,” said Dr. Director. “But you'd be expected to deliver at regular intervals.”

“How about the option where I don't take any of your deals and just walk on my own?” asked Shego.

“Going to be running from the cops with that sprained ankle of yours?” asked Dr. Director. “Think you can fend for yourself with no friends or contacts when you're no longer a world-class thief?”

“I could get by,” said Shego, but she barely believed it.

“Then be my guest,” said Dr. Director, standing. “We'll just grab you the moment you leave this hospital and put you in adjoining cells with Drakken. Cheapest solution for me, by far.”

Shego grumbled.

“Listen,” said Dr. Director, leaning forward. “I don't know what you went through during the last six months, and I don't know what it's like to suddenly lose 50 years of your life in a heartbeat, but I'm still trying to be sympathetic.”

“Hah.”

“I'm serious,” Dr. Director insisted. “I'm not your friend, I'm your enemy. But I believe that justice has to consider all possibilities. In my eyes, there a possibility that everything you've just gone through has been punishment enough for the life you lead up until six months ago.”

“Then let me go,” pleaded Shego. She'd never pleaded for anything in her entire life but somehow she was ready for a change.

“Unfortunately, I have people I have to answer to,” said Dr. Director. “People who don't have the same sensibilities as me. I have to balance my perspective with actions that they'll consider appropriate.”

“This is crap,” said Shego. “You run GJ, why don't you have the final say?”

Dr. Director smiled as she looked down. “It seems everyone thinks they know my job better than me, these days,” she said softly. Then she looked up. “Please understand, I've considered every option.”

“And this is it?” asked Shego. “Two forms of imprisonment: one blatant, one subtle.”

“Those are your options.”

Shego sighed and looked away. There was a window in her room, only partially obscured by a curtain. Beyond the glass, though, was her life up until now. Freedom. Flying free like the birds in the sky. Doing what she wanted and when she wanted to. Careless and carefree.

The glass in this room was shatterproof, though.

“Let me think about it,” said Shego. “I'm not going anywhere for a little while now, thanks to my twisted ankle.”

“Very well,” nodded Dr. Director. She stood and replaced the chair from where she took it from. Then she turned back. “One other thing.”

Shego looked back.

“I'm aware your rivalry with Kim Possible runs deep,” Dr. Director said. “But while you were in your coma, she was here every day to keep you company, reading you books.”

Shego's mouth hung open slightly. “Why?” she said in utter disbelief.

“You'll have to ask her that,” said Dr. Director. “But -- and I may be wrong about this -- it seems as though if you need a friend now, she's reaching out to you.”

“Friends?” scoffed Shego. “With Kim Possible?”

“There are many permutations in the universe,” said Dr. Director with a smile.

Shego's eyes narrowed. “Where did you hear that?” she said sharply.

Dr. Director blinked. “It's … just something a friend of mine says. Why?”

Shego looked away quickly. She'd heard those words before… on another world, far from here. Was it coincidence? There was a woman she'd met out there who insisted there was no such thing as coincidences. If that was true, then what did this mean?

Getting no response from Shego other than her turned head, Dr. Director simply turned and headed for the door.

---

“Alright, girl, you're clearly exhibiting ‘the drama,'” said Monique as she sat down beside Kim at lunch. She had received a mass of … well, she was assured that it was ‘food’ but the jury was still out in Monique's opinion. Kim had gone with something from the salad bar, which was a new feature in the cafeteria and one greatly appreciated by surprisingly large vegetarian contingent at Middleton High. Apparently the ‘food’ typically served was enough to cause most staunch carnivores to reconsider their life choices.

“So not,” insisted Kim, playing with the leaves of her salad. “And I wish everyone would stop insisting that I am.”

“Girl,” said Monique. “You've been quiet, mopey, and generally zoning out all day today, so, if you want people to stop asking, I'd suggest you try to be more subtle about it.”

Kim sighed.

“See, that's not helping,” pointed out Monique.

Kim grumbled and chomped down on her salad.

“Kim!”

Looking up, Kim saw that two people, a boy and a girl, had approached their table and swiftly sat themselves down.

“Join us, why don't you,” said Monique dryly.

“Don't mind if we do,” said the girl who Kim now recognized as Zita Flores, the Hispanic girl that Ron had been interested in for a while a few years back. She was typically a kind of stoic girl, who was heavy into computers, but not nearly as much as Wade.

The boy, Kim guessed, was Malcolm Needious, though he looked almost entirely different from when she last saw him, in the virtual world of Everlot. He'd apparently had a growth spurt and was now taller than Zita, with a skinny, lanky body that his broad mannerisms seemed to indicate he was still getting used to.

“Kim, we need your help,” said Zita, somewhat urgently.

“Er, I'm not really the gamer-type,” said Kim, awkwardly. “Rufus was the one who ended being good at Everlot and he's not really with me.”

“What?” said Zita, confused. Then she shook her head. “Oh, no. Everlot is so two years ago, nowadays everyone's into WWO.”

“Wild… World of… Orangutans?” suggested Monique.

“Withering Woods Online,” said Malcolm. “But that's not why we're here.”

“Okay, then what?” asked Kim.

“Well, it's a little odd,” started Malcolm. “But, we were just talking the other day about the talent show back at the end of sophomore year. You remember, right?”

“Yeah, how can I forget?” Kim said drolly. Drakken had impersonated Wade and convinced her to commit crimes thinking they were ‘hits’ on her website. At least they were only ever perpetrated against villains. She had spent most of that week obsessed about beating Bonnie in the talent show, and, in the end, Ron ended up beating them both.

“Well, we were all impressed with your performance,” said Zita. “And were wondering if you wouldn't mind singing again.”

“Well, I like to sing,” said Kim, uneasily. “In this year's talent show?”

“No,” Malcolm shook his head. “In this year's spring play.”

“…” said Kim. “Play? As in… the drama club?”

Zita nodded. “You were a great singer, and we need a strong, diverse senior to play the lead role.”

“I don't know, I'm not much of a drama person,” said Kim.

“I dunno, I think you've been pulling it off pretty well today,” added Monique.

“Not helping,” replied Kim.

“At least give it a try,” said Zita. “Come to the club this afternoon and try out, it'll only take like five minutes.”

“Since when are you in the drama club, anyway?” asked Kim.

“Actually, I'm a techie,” said Zita. “The drama club's lights and sound equipment is all computerized, so I've been helping them out with it.”

“Ah,” said Kim. “Listen, I don't know if I'm really the right person for this.”

“You're perfect,” disagreed Zita. “Will you at least give it a try?”

Kim looked uneasily between the bright eyes of Zita and Malcolm, and the all-too-amused expression on Monique's face. “I…” she hesitated, “suppose.”

“Great!” said Zita, and slapped Kim on the back. “We'll be in the auditorium at 3 pm.”

“Thanks, Kim,” said Malcolm, nodding, then departing with Zita.

“W-wait!” said Kim, standing suddenly. Zita and Malcolm turned, looking anxious. “What's the play?”

Zita breathed and smiled. “Phantom of the Opera.”

Kim blinked. “Y-you want me to be Christine!?”

Zita nodded, then turned on her foot and headed out.

Kim fell back into her chair. “What did I get myself into?”

“I'd say you were rather forced,” noted Monique, pushing her tray of… sludge away. “I wonder who the phantom will be.”

“I hope it’s not Malcolm,” shivered Kim.

“He's not looking too bad these days though.” Monique looked up. “Not in the… you know, attractive way, but at least less nebbish.”

“I wonder if he and Zita are finally going out,” wondered Kim. She'd really lost track of Zita in the last year and half of… well, her life. Between her crime fighting and dating Ron and Bueno Nacho, she just didn't have time to wonder about the people she used to see. She felt bad about it but was relieved they didn't hold a grudge against her. She guessed some people just naturally grow apart.

“Listen, this sounds odd,” said Monique, awkwardly. “But would you mind if I shared your salad with you?”

Kim looked at Monique's empty tray, surprised. “Wow, you finished that already?”

“Actually, I think it crawled off on its own,” Monique said, mortified.

“…” said Kim.

---

Kim was heading between classes when Bonnie just seemed to pop up out of nowhere.

“I heard you're trying out for Christine,” she said, smugly.

“Wow, that has to be a speed record for gossip,” commented Kim, continuing to walk past her.

“So when are you coming back to cheerleading?”

Kim stopped.

Bonnie slowly came up to her from behind. “I get why you stopped,” she said. “You said you needed to recover. I get that. You were…” she trailed off. “What happened to you isn't a easy thing to bounce back from. But it's been six months! You keep telling me you're ‘recovering’ but now you're trying out for other activities? What the hell is that about?” She was starting to yell.

“I was… forced into this, really,” said Kim, turning her head slightly.

“Like you'd let anyone push you over,” scoffed Bonnie.

Kim frowned. “Why do you care? You should revel in your victory,” she spat angrily.

“You didn't lose to me,” said Bonnie. “You lost to some jerk with a gun. I still want my fight.”

“Well you're not going to get it,” said Kim. “I'm not here to amuse you.”

“I thought you loved cheerleading! You certainly took every opportunity you had to show me how damn good you are at it.” Bonnie stormed around to stand face to face with Kim. “You play your little miss perfect act for years, and suddenly you're done? Because of what? A boo-boo?”

Kim angrily pushed herself right up into Bonnie's face. “You want to know how it feels?” she growled. “Huh? Then tell me how easy it is to brush off?”

Bonnie staged back a few steps and looked wide-eyed at Kim. “Did you just… threaten to shoot me?”

Kim's expression wavered, and after a second's wait, she brushed past Bonnie and continued towards her class, leaving the cheerleader staring after her.

---

A flurry of information danced across a trio of glowing screens in the darkness. News reports, website blogs, surveillance across a hundred companies and museums, results from scans, tests, analytics, and simple posts to the Kim Possible website all appeared then disappeared in an instant as newer, more prevalent data arrived. It was an ocean of data, without arrangement.

The computers in this small bedroom had been build, destroyed, and built again to be the best at information gathering and processing so that every crime around the world could be watched and reported on, if necessary. It had all be done by a young, genius boy, intelligent beyond his years and driven by a simple desire to see the truth. This was his paradise, meticulously constructed with patience and determination to be perfect, awe inspiring, and without flaw.

But nobody was watching. The data was going unseen and unread. The great avatar of truth… absent.

A sound echoed through the dark cave as a spear of light carved a path from the door to the bed, leaving a yellow trail of highlight. A figure moved into the path of the light, almost glowing from the contrast between the cave and the hallway outside. It was the form of a woman, with dark skin and wavy hair, standing pensively at the door. She looked into the cave with sadness, noting the diligently humming machines with no operator, the cluttered piles of electronics, experimental technology, test fabrics and chemicals, and a wide arrangement of odds and ends with little meaning to the woman.

She walked in, hesitantly at first, then with more courage. Her frown grew deeper as she looked at the unkempt bed with star wars sheets. Her little boy was still a boy, no matter how intelligent he was. On the wall was a large poster for the movie ‘Back to the Future II,’ which contained an image of her boy's fictitious idol, Dr. Emmett Brown.

Torn clothes scattered the floor as well as hastily mended ones, constructed seemingly at random from the remains of the ripped ones. The woman looked confused at the debris but it was not any more irregular than the rest of the room.

Eventually, with a deep and saddened sigh, she walked over to the computers array, dug through the wires, and found the single power strip they were all connected to. It was nearly glowing with the amount of electricity it was channeling. She put her finger over the red switch. She felt like she was closing the book, giving up all hope. But that wasn't the case, she convinced herself. She would never give up, no matter how much time passed.

But something had to change. They had been caught in a holding pattern for so long, they needed something to spur them in a new direction, give them new places to search. So this is what she had decided. The cave would be uprooted, scavenged, and used, rather than protected like a mausoleum.

The answer as to where Wade Load had vanished was here. She just had to find it.

With a flick of her wrist, Mrs. Load shut off the power strip and with it went the careful searching and diligent humming of countless computers. In the ensuing silence, you could almost hear a teardrop.

---

Zita sat patiently in the auditorium, well after three, waiting just in case she changed her mind. It was clear even five minutes after the hour that Kim was not going to show, but she waited patiently anyway. Everyone knew that Kim had a history of showing up places late due to her globetrotting activities. It was a good excuse, typically, but Zita knew that Kim hadn't taken a mission in many months and that if she hadn't shown at the start, she wasn't going to show at all.

“Zita,” came a soft voice. She looked up to see Malcolm beside her. “She's not going to show.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Zita, as casually as she could sound. “I just was hoping.”

“We don't want to come on too strong, but we should see if she forgot tomorrow,” said Malcolm. Zita stared at him skeptically. “Okay, we know she didn't forget, but let's at least give her an out, huh?”

Zita smiled. “Of course.” She looked down towards the front row. The drama teacher and his deputy showrunner were sitting there, going through notes. “Hey, guys,” she called out. “Sorry for the wait, I guess I was wrong about the day.”

Bill Henderson, the drama teacher, waved his hand conciliatorily. “It's okay, we're going through audition notes anyway.”

“Thanks!” said Zita, then looked back to Malcolm. “Ah, well, we tried.”

“Ahem!”

Zita and Malcolm turned to face the sudden interruption. A girl with long brown hair was standing in the aisle between the sections of chairs.

“Bonnie Rockwaller,” said Malcolm, unable to hide the displeasure in his voice. “What do we owe the pleasure?”

“I heard that Kimmie was trying out for drama,” said Bonnie.

“Uh, you must have heard wrong,” said Zita, covering.

Bonnie raised an eyebrow. “Didn't show, did she?”

Zita looked hesitantly to the side.

“You want to get her involved? I've got a plan,” said Bonnie, striding forward.

“Which is…?” said Zita.

“Put me in the play,” said Bonnie.

“You can sing?” asked Malcolm.

“Can I sing?” scoffed Bonnie. “I'm very accomplished singer, first in my choir group and made regional's in middle school.”

“So… you want to challenge Kim for Christine in hopes that your rivalry will get her involved?” asked Zita. “There's a bit of sense to it, it might just be an effective plan.”

“What?” said Bonnie. “No, she's not ready to be challenged yet. Let me try out for Carlotta.”

Zita blinked. “Ahh.”

---

Kim was actually standing IN the hospital when she realized what she was doing.

“Augh, god! She's awake,” she said suddenly in the elevator, slapping her forehead and drawing some stares. She'd operated mostly on autopilot at the end of the day and it wasn't until now that her mind realized that Shego had come out of her coma last night.

There's no way she was going to put up with Bonnie this afternoon and then willing throw herself into the lions den with Shego's verbal abuse. She'd just stay in the elevator and take it back down again. She doubted Shego was expecting her anyway.

With a tone, the elevator stopped and opened and people started filing past her into the hall. Kim waited patiently as the last of the people left and then another person got on. The elevator was still going up, but Kim felt it was safer to stay where she was rather than risk waiting for a down elevator. The hospital wasn't tall, it wouldn't take much longer.

The doors closed and Kim sighed in relief.

After a couple moments, the doors opened again and the rest of the people filed out, leaving Kim alone again. She pressed the button for the ground floor and then casually leaned against the back wall.

Then someone walking past the elevator stopped and looked her.

“Oh, Kim,” said the man who she now recognized as Dr. Alvares. He stepped towards the elevator, standing in the path of the doors. Kim slumped.

“Hi, Dr. Alvares,” Kim said slowly.

“I'm glad you're here, I was worried you would have gone to Shego's old room on the 4th floor without checking at the desk,” he said, stepping aside so Kim could get out of the elevator. Reluctantly, she did.

“Uh, yeah,” said Kim, nodding. How was she going to get out of this now?

“She's in room 512 now,” said Dr. Alvares. “We moved her out of long-term care into recovery since she seems to be in good health.”

“Great,” said Kim. She looked around wildly as she walked, trying to come up with a good excuse.

“If you don't mind me saying so,” said Dr. Alvares, a little quieter. “I think she could definitely use your company right now.”

Kim looked up at the doctor. “What?”

“Well, she's clearly angry,” said the doctor. “But I think it's more because she's confused. Her life has drastically changed and she need someone to be there from before to comfort her and get her through this period.”

“Clearly you have an incomplete understanding of our relationship,” said Kim, dryly. “I don't provide any comfort for her.”

“She provides comfort for you, though.”

“Not at all,” Kim said plainly.

“Then why are you here?”

Kim hesitated. She didn’t want to say she came by accident, it sounded so shallow to just pick up and abandon someone who had been comatose for so long just because they woke up.

Then again, why had she come so frequently while Shego was asleep, anyway?

“Right,” said Dr. Alvares, nodding at the silence. “Well, whatever the case may be between the two of you, I think it might have a positive effect on both of you to at least try to get along.”

“We'll see,” grumbled Kim.

“And please convince her to see a therapist,” said the doctor. “There's no way she's equipped to handle the emotional stress of losing 50 years of her life in a heartbeat.”

“Oh that'll go over real well,” Kim rolled her eyes.

“It's gone well for you, right?” asked Dr. Alvares.

Kim said nothing.

“Here we are,” he motioned to the door and stopped.

“You're not coming in?”

“Ah, no,” he shook his head. “Shego has been throwing things at me every time I visit and it's starting to get expensive replacing the glass in the door window.”

Kim just shook her head and, with a sigh, opened the door to the room.

Just in time to see a hardcover book fly at her. She quickly raised her hand and caught it, inches from her face. Growling she threw the book aside and scowled.

“Shego!” yelled Kim, storming in.

“Kimmie?” said Shego from the bed, startled. “I thought you were one of those doctors.”

“Clearly, I'm not,” said Kim. “And I don't understand what Dr. Alvares has done that is so terrible.”

“He thinks I’m crazy,” said Shego, emphasizing the last word heavily. “Thinks I need to see a shrink.”

“He doesn't think you're crazy,” said Kim, rolling her eyes. “He wants to make sure you're coping with… what happened to you.”

“What happened to me was I got royally screwed,” said Shego. “I don't need therapy to deal with that.”

Kim frowned. “Yes, you do,” said Kim, coming closer to the bed. “Because who are you going to get revenge on?”

“Well, I'd just--” started Shego, but then she stopped. “I mean… Clearly… We were…” She looked confused and then looked away. “I don't need revenge.”

Kim sighed and sat down.

“What the hell are you doing here anyway?” asked Shego, turning back.

“I'm really not sure,” said Kim. “I should probably go.”

“You really should,” said Shego.

Kim sat there staring forward and Shego looked away saying nothing.

“What happened to your foot?” asked Kim, after several minutes of silence.

“I twisted it trying climb out a window,” said Shego.

Kim looked back at her. “What were you doing climbing out a window?”

“Trying to get out of this damn place!”

“Did you try a door?” asked Kim.

“They're still holding me for monitoring,” said Shego. “In case I have a relapse of the ‘magical coma.'” Shego looked up. “I doubt GJ would let me leave now anyway.”

“GJ?” asked Kim. “They're arresting you?”

“Looks like,” said Shego. “And I don’t have my powers or any degree of my agility to get away from them.”

“Shego? Giving up?” mocked Kim. “That doesn't sound right.”

“Are you trying to encourage me to run away from GJ?” asked Shego.

“I'm…” Kim fell silent. “Never mind.”

More silence.

“Aha! I figured it out,” said Shego.

“What?”

“I'll blame Stoppable for taking so long in finding me,” said Shego. “I can get revenge on him.”

“Ron?” asked Kim, with a slightly haunted look on her face. “What does he have to do with this?”

“Whattya mean?” asked Shego. “You sent him to find me but it took him forever!”

“I never… sent him,” said Kim, turning this information over in her head. “Wait, what do you mean ‘find’? You were here the entire time. Trust me, I know.”

“Yes, that’s creepy and wrong, by the way.”

“Thanks,” said Kim, dryly.

“So, you don't know what happened to me after I put on the helmet?” asked Shego.

“Yes, I do, you started having seizures and fell into a coma for six months,” said Kim.

“No, I didn't,” said Shego, annoyed. “Did Stoppable not tell you anything?”

“Ron--” Kim hesitated and felt stupid for still being sensitive about this. “I haven't seen him in… a long time.”

“Where the hell did he go?” asked Shego.

“Japan,” she said quietly. “Yamanouchi.”

“Yama-who?”

“It's a… secret school somewhere out there.” Kim sighed. “He asked me not to look for him.”

“Hah!” laughed Shego. “And you actually listened to him?”

“Shut up!” yelled Kim. “He left me! Why would I chase him across the world?”

“Oh, so it was more sensible to sit here beside ME for six months instead?” said Shego.

“You have got to be the most ungrateful person I know,” said Kim. “Could you, possibly, be any more of a jerk to people trying to help you?”

“I don't want anyone's help!” yelled Shego. “I don't want your help. I don’t want your comfort. AND I SURE AS HELL DON'T WANT YOUR DAMN PITY!” Shego sat up in her bed and waved her finger in Kim's angry face. “You come in here with that fucking face of yours all full of pity and sadness for me because, oh BOO-HOO, I got screwed by my own damn greed. I don't want that from anyone, least of all YOU!”

“Fine!” screamed Kim, standing. “You have a great time dealing with this on your own, then!”

“Why wouldn't I?” yelled Shego back as Kim turned towards the door. “I've gotten on fine my whole life by myself! I don't need anyone now!”

Kim flew out the door and slammed it behind her. Shego grabbed the last book on her table and threw it at the door, cracking the glass again. She was breathing deeply from her rage and felt suddenly exhausted. Her whole jaw hurt from the way she was gritting her teeth and her body shook from anger. Suddenly her head felt heavy and her vision swam.

Without a chance to steady herself she toppled back onto the bed, unconscious.

---

That night, Kim sat silently at the dinner table, poking randomly at her food. Her parents and brothers talked about random things that she didn't really care to listen to. She figured it went along the lines of her brothers describing their carnage as if it was a good thing, her mother chiding them for causing such carnage in the house, and her father occasionally bringing up some of space center's new fleet of deep space probes.

There was a suddenly silence in the room, though, and Kim looked up to see her family looking at her.

“What?” asked Kim.

“Are you trying out for the spring play, dear?” asked her mother.

“Wha? How did you hear that?” asked Kim.

Her mother pointed at the tweebs, who grinned.

“Are you serious? You get high school gossip in the middle school?” said Kim.

“So it's true then,” said Jim.

Kim sighed. “I didn't try out, I said I would but I didn't.”

Mrs. Dr. Possible frowned. “You broke a promise?”

“It wasn't a promise,” said Kim, grumbling. “I was forced into it and… I just didn't feel in the mood to sing today. I'll talk to them about it tomorrow.”

“It's not good to leave people in a lurch, Kimmiecub,” said her father. He was apparently eating, working on his tablet PC, and chiding her at the same time. She would have boggled if she hadn't been focused on the last of the three.

“I know!” said Kim, emphatically. “I'll apologize.” She ate her broccoli enthusiastically, hoping to avoid further inquiry.

“You also missed your appointment with Dr. Selina,” said her mother.

Kim slowly closed her eyes in defeat. That one she'd completely forgotten about and had not intended to miss, despite her own reservations for the whole process. “I'll call her tomorrow,” said Kim, looking up again.

Mrs. Possible stopped eating her food and leaned a little closer to her daughter. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” she said. “It seems like you're upset about something.”

Kim shook her head. She didn't want to go into this with her. “I'm alright,” she said. “Just a little tired. I think I'll do my homework and hit the sack early tonight.” She stood and picked up her plate.

Her family watched quietly as she headed out of the room into the kitchen.

---

It was nearly midnight when Shego woke again. She felt terrible but at least nothing was hurting. She was staring to wonder if an old person's body just ached randomly all the time of if it was because she'd been bedridden for months.

She reached around for the nurse call button and eventually managed to find it and press it. A few minutes later a woman in a light blue shirt came in.

“How are you feeling?” asked the nurse. Shego didn’t recognize her and, without her glasses, she couldn't read the name on her ID tag.

“Like my head weighs a hundred pounds on its own,” said Shego, groggily. “What happened?”

“You had a hypoglycemic reaction,” said the nurse who poured a cup of water from the attendant station and carried it over to her.

“I'm not diabetic,” said Shego as she took the cup and sipped from it.

“No, you're not, you had an exaggerated reaction to your lunch,” said the nurse. “You'll be fine. Your blood sugar is back to normal now.”

“Why did it happen then?”

“Your body is not used to itself,” said the nurse sympathetically. “And instances of reactive hypoglycemia increase with age.”

“Great,” muttered Shego, sighing.

“I'm familiar with your case,” said the nurse, coming to sit by her bed. “You should know that at your apparent age, regular checkups should become part of your life. Especially since you are displaying some problems associated with old age.”

“That's not my style,” said Shego. “Preventive medicine.”

“Your record shows the presence of the meningitis antibody,” pointed out the nurse. “You must have thought the vaccine was worth taking.”

“I'm not taking risks with my brain, thank you very much,” said Shego.

“Well, your whole body needs that sort of attention now.”

Shego grumbled.

“It's not a bad thing to be careful.”

“Just, leave please,” said Shego, turning her head.

The nurse nodded. “Get some rest,” she said.

“Yeah, right,” said Shego. “I'm not exactly eager to fall back into a coma.”

The nurse frowned. “You're quite healthy now, you shouldn't be afraid of returning to a comatose state.”

“When you've been subject to as much supernatural things as I have, then come back and tell me what to be cautious about,” snapped Shego, still facing away.

The nurse nodded slowly. “Whatever forces are at play, either you let things happen to you, or you make them happen for you.” She looked down for a moment, then turned and left.

Shego stared at the dark window and the tiny specks of light beyond. The stars were vast, huge bodies, some thousands of times larger than the earth, but that didn't matter from here, because their distance had reduced them to tiny, almost unnoticeable specks of light.

Shivering, Shego wished she'd never even laid eyes on the Mantle of Tenoch, and definitely had never put it on. She wished she never met Angela Lipsky, who gotten her mixed up in the search for Drakken. She certainly wished Kim Possible hadn't even come near her with that that look in her eyes.

But most of all she wished Carey and Juny were here.

---

In the dark, on the rooftop of the Middleton Exchange, two figures moved with such fluidity and grace it was almost impossible to believe their moves hadn't been choreographed and practiced a hundred times. But they had practiced at all because they were not partners. They were enemies, and they were fighting.

The larger of the two, by only a hair, was stockier, muscular, and covered in a black Lycra leaving only a narrow hole showing his bold, dark eyes. He was equipped with a lot of equipment tucked away in slim pouches pulled tight against his body with small exposed claws arcing away from his fingertips menacingly.

The smaller one was clearly a woman, her own skin tight catsuit showing off her curves whenever enough light shown on her to highlight them. She was comparatively less equipped, with only a black slung bag and a coil of rope with a hook hanging from her hip and exposed hands showing thin delicate pale fingers. Her face was mostly exposed, her head covered by a black hood with her long hair spilling from a small cut in the back.

Their fight was largely acrobatic as each was able to predict the other's moves far enough in advance to avoid getting struck. As it was, only a slight tear in the side of the woman's outfit would be any sign that their battle was intended to be a deadly one.

Minutes stretched long and eventually, almost simultaneously, both combatants stopped and stood on opposite sides of the building rooftop, breathing heavily and staring at each other.

“You're good,” said the woman, almost purring.

The man said nothing, but narrowed his eyes.

“Quiet type, I see,” said the woman. “I like that.” She stood straighter, slightly lowering her guard even though her eyes were as alert as ever. “Are you the one? The ‘Black Shadow’ I've been hearing about?”

The man continued to stand at ready and continued to say nothing.

“I don't know what brings you to Middleton, but I think you are,” said the woman. “Which is exciting for me. Meeting such a new hero in the flesh… so to speak.”

She looked him up and down with roaming eyes. “I see you know to dress, as well.”

“Well, you're not slouch, I'll give you that,” the woman looked between the rooftops around them. “I'll let you have this one.” She quickly grabbed the rope on her hip and threw it up to a nearby building, hooking a ledge on the roof, and swinging away.

The man suddenly pulled out a black, L-shaped device from a pouch and held it like a gun towards the fleeing woman. Pulling the trigger, it launched out a grapple which, instead of hooking onto a building, struck the back of the black-wearing woman and wrapped around her leg. Caught off guard, the woman lost grip of her own grapple and began to fall. The rope around her leg tightened and pulled her down past the edge of the Exchange and began swinging her back towards the building.

In a panic, she pulled a long bladed knife from a shoulder holster and cut through the rope, allowing her to twist in the air and rappel down from the building at an angle to the street. She landed with a hard thumb, but ignored her aching legs as she scrambled away into the alley.

On top of the building, the man reached the edge of the roof and pulled up his rope. Looking at the empty end of the woven cord, he frowned, then looked down into the alley. The woman was gone.

“I'll have to use titanium filament wire next time,” he said, then turned, cocked his head to the side, and leapt away.

---

The next day, Kim's English teacher had apparently called in sick so the class had gotten a free study period, which was nice since it butted right up against her lunch period, which meant a full hour and a half of no thinking.

It was not nice, however, because Bonnie was in her English class.

“So, Miss Perfect,” said Bonnie, sauntering over to her desk.

“Not. In. The. Mood,” enunciated Kim.

“I heard you missed your auditions yesterday,” she continued on.

“I had something come up, I've already talked to the drama club and rescheduled for today.” Kim leaned back in her chair. “Not that I really think it's a great match for--”

“I decided to try out in your place.”

Kim blinked. “You what?”

“Well, I thought as long as you were going to change the playing field, I would too,” said Bonnie, motioning with hand.

Kim frowned. “Funny, Zita didn't say anything about that.”

“I told her not to,” said Bonnie. “I wanted to save the expression for myself.”

“Well, whatever,” said Kim. “I didn't really care for this anyway.” She turned back to her notebook which she was diligently making doodles in.

“You're not going to abandon your second audition, are you?” asked Bonnie.

“Why do you care?” asked Kim. “You win and everything's fine in the world, right?” Her voice was filled with sarcasm.

“I can't win if you don't fight,” pointed out Bonnie.

“Fine, I'll try out and then you can get the part,” said Kim. “Now leave me alone, please?”

Bonnie smiled menacingly but said nothing as she turned away and headed back to her desk.

---

Lunch wasn't much better.

“Girl, we really need to talk,” said Monique.

“Oh my god,” said Kim, exasperated. “Seriously, I’m handling it.”

“You're acting… well, not yourself.”

“I know, I know, everyone has told me their opinion by now,” said Kim. She pushed her salad around her plate. “I'm just a little off right now, I'm handling it.”

“How are you handling it if you're not confiding in anyone?” asked Monique. “We're your friends, Kim, you can trust us with your problems. We'll help you work through them.”

“I'm seriously fine,” insisted Kim, growing impatient. “So I lost my temper with Bonnie. She's always known how to push my buttons anyway. I blew off the audition because I didn't want to perform while angry. And I just plain forgot my therapy session. Does that explain everything sufficiently for you?”

“Therapy session?” asked Monique.

Kim's jaw went slack for a moment.

“You're seeing a-MMMFFF!” Kim's hand closed over Monique's mouth like lighting and she suddenly stood up and started pulling her out of the cafeteria.

They were halfway down the hallway when Monique finally got tired of being dragged and threw off Kim's grip. “What the hell, Kim?” she yelled.

“Shh!” quieted Kim. She moved closer to Monique. “Please, don’t… don’t tell anyone what you just heard.”

“You're seeing a therapist?” asked Monique.

“SHHH!” said Kim, louder. She sighed and nodded slowly. “It's a trauma specialist. My doctor insisted after I got out of the hospital to see one. It's stupid, but I have to see her or I'll end up with more people bothering me.” Kim looked back and forth down the hall. “It's almost over, just one or two more meetings.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” said Monique, feeling betrayed. “I'm your friend!”

“I just… didn't want anyone to know,” said Kim, looking away. “I just want it to be over and not talked about.”

“Kim,” Monique said hesitantly. “Are you… taking them seriously? These meetings with your doctor?”

“I'm fine,” said Kim, assuredly. “No PTSD. I mean, come on, as if getting shot was the worst thing to ever happen to me. I've come this close to seeing the world get destroyed or dominated dozens of times now. This was… it was…” she frowned as she struggled for the word. Eventually she looked up. “No big,” she said with a smile.

Monique frowned. “Okay,” she said. But she wasn't okay with it at all.

---

Dr. Alvares had come prepared this time. He had borrowed his sun's catchers mitt and faceguard but had left behind the chest protector. He hoped it hadn't been a bad idea, but Shego had always gone for the face before.

As he headed towards the room he got a couple odd stares from the patients but most of the attendants knew why he was equipped this way and nodded knowing, silently wishing him good luck.

Eventually he reached the door. It was still boarded up slightly while they waited for replacement shatterproof glass so he couldn't see inside. Hopefully that meant she couldn't see outside either and would be prepared. She was cunning, he knew that, but she was his patient, and his duty took precedence over his fear.

With a quick motion of his arm, he swung open the door and held up his mitt in defense. After several seconds he wondered what had happened and slowly lowered it. He was staring into an empty room. Blinking, he took a step back and looked at the room number to make sure he was in the right place. He was.

“Nurse,” he said to a passing attendant. “Where is Shego?”

The man blinked and leaned to look past the doctor. “She's supposed to be in there,” he said. “I'll check to see if anyone called her for tests.”

“I'm her doctor,” insisted Dr. Alvares. “I'm the only one who should be calling her down for tests.”

The nurse's eyes went wide. “I'll call security,” he said and dashed off.

“Hey!” the voice of a young man suddenly called out from further down the hall. Dr. Alvares turned to see. “Someone took my crutches!” said the man.

The doctor sighed and pulled off his faceguard.

---

Celeste Beaumont sat impatiently in the clinic, idling looking around the largely uninteresting examination room. There were a few cabinets -- locked -- as well as a sink, some random examination tools like tongue depressors and cotton swabs, and a glowing panel on the wall for examining x-rays. Nothing interesting, nothing fancy, nothing really valuable.

She sighed and leaned back on the table. She felt stupid. Like an amateur. She'd been in the business for close to ten years now and she let herself get taken down by some masked man without a tongue. She'd heard stories about the ‘Black Shadow’ but hadn't really paid them much mind, as they were mostly third or fourth-hand stories from New York, Boston, or Philadelphia. Never did she suspect running into him all the way west as Middleton, nor did she think she'd nearly get killed from a stupid grappling gun.

“Arrgh!” she growled to herself in frustration. Looking down at her bandaged leg, she cursed the stupid silent vigilante to hell.

The door suddenly opened and the doctor attending her returned. He was a good looking man, probably only a couple years older than herself, with short dark hair and somewhat tanned skin. He smiled as if it was a matter of course, which slightly bothered Celeste. It made him appear disingenuous in her eyes, which was a poor trait for a doctor to have.

“Well, the x-rays came back and thankfully we're not looking at a fracture,” said Doctor Carson. “So I'd just recommend keeping off the leg as much as possible, wear the brace, and the ligament damage will heal in a few weeks time.”

Celeste nodded. “Okay,” she said.

“Try to avoid exercising so hard in the future,” said the doctor who paused to look at her once. “If you don't mind me saying so, you're in excellent shape. Don't worry so much about improving your performance. Stick to maintenance exercises.”

Celeste raised an eyebrow at the doctor.

“At least for the next few weeks,” he added, sheepishly.

“Thank you,” she said, getting up off the table. She felt the weakness in her knee and braced herself against the edge of the table for stability. Flexing the leg slightly she tried to walk again and successfully managed to keep upright. She moved past the doctor and into the hall.

The doctor followed closely behind with her file. “Please schedule an appointment to come back in two weeks,” he said as they reached the front counter. He handed Celeste's file to the desk attendant. “Have a good afternoon, Ms. Beaumont.”

“You too,” said Celeste, conciliatorily. She turned her attention to the desk attendant and handled her bill before only slightly struggling her way out of the clinic.

As she waited for a taxi by the street, she heard what must have been the largest squirrel rustling in the bushes by the main entrance to the hospital. Based on how much the bush was shaking, she figured there must have been a whole army of the critters in there and she idly wondered if she should take a look, thinking she might catch a glimpse of some sort of squirrel orgy or something. Then her taxi arrived and she forgot the thought entirely.

As her taxi departed the hospital, the rustling the bushes finally ceased as an old woman with long gray hair came crawling out on her hands and knees. She struggled to get back up on her feet and waved down another taxi.

After she got into the taxi she leaned forward on the headrest. “Follow that taxi,” the woman said, pointing at Celeste's departing yellow cab.

---

Kim's cell phone rang just before the end of the day.

“Kim, this is Dr. Alvares,” said the voice on the phone.

“Dr… Alvares?” repeated Kim, astonished. “What… er, what can I do for you?”

“We've run into a little trouble with Shego and I was wondering if I could convince you to help,” he said, strangely casually.

Kim winced slightly. “I'm kinda busy…”

“She's gone,” he said flatly.

“Gone?”

“She left, probably about an hour ago,” said the doctor. “She stole some crutches and walked right out the front door with a departing family. Security didn't even notice, unfortunately.”

Kim sighed.

“I know you said you're not that close to her yesterday,” said the doctor, pleading. “But you know her better than any of us. Could you help find her for us? I'm concerned she's going to accidentally hurt herself thinking she's still in her twenties.”

Kim closed her eyes. “All right, I'll look for her.”

“Thank you,” said Dr. Alvares enthusiastically on the phone.

Kim hung up.

“Well, Miss Possible,” Mr. Barkin said, suddenly standing beside her. Kim yelped in response. “If we're all through with our private calls, can we get back to learning?”

Kim blushed. “Yes, Mr. Barkin,” she said, tucking her cell phone away again.

---

Celeste collapsed on her hotel bed as soon as she reached it. Her leg was aching and even the mild painkillers the clinic gave her were doing very little. She rubbed her sore knee through the brace as she rolled around on the queen sized bed.

She'd just about decided that she'd rather cut off her leg rather than go through two weeks of this pain when the phone rang. She sighed heavily. It was probably her office, wondering why she hadn't logged onto her computer today. Stupid ‘virtual office.’ One couldn't even dodge work when away from their employer anymore.

She rolled over towards the nightstand and picked up the phone. It was the concierge. “Excuse me, Ms. Beaumont,” said the woman. “There's a woman in the lobby here looking for you.”

“Okay,” said Celeste. That was a new one. She was supposed to be the only consultant in Middleton on this project. She wondered if she'd pissed her office off enough that they'd actually fly someone down to get her. “Did she say who she was?”

“No, she just said she was from GeneNominal.”

Celeste's eyes went wide and she immediately hung up the phone. Her head snapped towards her bag and she rushed over to it, flinging it open and revealing her catsuit. She reached into the bag and pulled out her rope and her knife, throwing the former over her head and the latter into her pocket. There was no way someone from GeneNominal showing up was a good thing. She had to get out of here.

Closing the bag and slinging it over her shoulder, she ran out of her room and headed for the stairs. Her leg would hate her later but she'd have to leave via the roof if someone from that damn company was downstairs. They'd probably have the whole first floor monitored.

Running up the stairs, her knee shot pains up her leg with each step. Just a little further, she thought as she headed past the twentieth floor. Each floor seemed a hundred times worse than the one before it until she reached the roof after floor twenty-five.

She slammed her shoulder into the rooftop door to open it and ran out, tossing her rope on the floor as she quickly tied her grapple to it.

Then she heard the sound. It was like a faint shuffle on concrete. It came from the direction of the stairs. Slowly Celeste reached for her knife then in a snap turned and flung it at the sound. With a sharp pang it embedded itself into the wall that the door to the staircase was on, only inches from the corner where she could see a dark figure standing in the shadow. She'd missed!

Her hand dove into her bag searching for another knife.

“Bella Negra,” said the figure, and Celeste froze. The voice sounded old, and hoarse. “I guess this means you're not too comfy with the Architect anymore.”

The figure stepped into the light and Celeste saw she was indeed an old woman, probably well over the hill, with long gray hair pulled into a ponytail. She was dressed in a simple white shirt with black slacks that were hastily cuffed at the ends and an oversized black jacket hanging from her shoulders. Despite her impressively calm demeanor, she appeared rather disheveled.

“I'm through with you guys,” said Celeste as her hand continued to subtly search for another knife in her bag. “I told you that years ago. I don't like playing your dumb ass games with your superfriends!”

The woman laughed briefly. “I'm not with GeneNominal,” she said. “And they're not really here either, I just had the concierge send you that message to see if you ran towards them or away from them.” She looked down at Celeste's rope. “If you'd gone to them, we'd have nothing to talk about.”

“Who the hell are you?” snapped Celeste as he her hand finally found another knife and she tightened her fingers around it.

“An old friend,” said the woman. “Although not nearly as old as I appear.”

“Stop playing games with me,” said Celeste. She was clearly at the disadvantage, severely, and she needed to find a way to turn this around or she'd be in trouble. Her eyes scanned the rooftops, whichever one would be easiest was best. She doubted this old hag could follow her anywhere.

“Fine,” said the woman moving slowly towards Celeste. “We used to be rivals, in a way, back in Go city about seven years ago. I was one of the ‘superfriends,’ as you called them, but I've since learned the errors of my ways.”

Celeste suddenly felt echoes of familiarity with this woman, but it was patently impossible. “You're too old to be her,” she said.

“There are many permutations in the universe,” said the woman, grinning at some unknown joke. “I've had fifty years of my life stolen from me by some stupid magic, but I'm still the same girl you knew.”

No. There was absolutely no way it could be her. “Shego?”

The woman nodded.

“Impossible,” concluded Celeste.

“Get over it,” said Shego, putting a hand to her hip. “I wish it was impossible, but evidently, it isn't.”

“How did you find me?”

Shego, or at least the old woman that was claiming to be Shego, raised her arm and pulled on her jacket sleeve revealing a simple plastic tag around her wrist. “I was in the same hospital as you were this morning,” she said. “In, believe me, the biggest coincidence of my life. I followed you here from there.”

Shego stood there, holding out her wrist. Celeste had to know, it was too weird to just let it pass. She stepped forward, keeping her knife ready, and looked at the medical tag. It read, in the name field, ‘Shego.’

Celeste jumped back, startled. Was it really her? “Magic?” asked Celeste. Suddenly a whole wealth of possibilities flew through her head, none of them things that would help her sleep through the night. If it was possible to steal five decades of life from someone as energetic as Shego, anything was possible.

“Yeah,” Shego said, finally lowering her arm. “I hate the stuff. It doesn't make sense… not that any of the crazy technology Drakken ever made was perfectly sane to begin with. But, you know, at least I can accept technological miracles.” She stepped back slightly and leaned against the wall. “Hell, I'm practically one of them.”

Something finally locked into place in Celeste's mind after years of growing cobwebs. “VersaGene made you?” she asked.

“Yup,” said Shego. “Yeah, that crap about meteors was just PR spun by Quincy.”

Celeste marveled at the completely unexpected revelations but her mind snagged on something and she steadied her grip on the knife. “This is all fascinating, but what do you want with me? It's not like we've ever even seen each other since you left Team Go.”

Shego had a somewhat lost expression on her face. “I need your help.”

“My help?” asked Celeste. This was far off in the realm of ‘never believed would ever happen.’

“Believe it or not,” said Shego. “You're the only person who's ever been completely honest with me.”

Celeste blinked.

“I've got some people looking for me,” Shego continued. “I need to vanish for a while to regroup. When I saw you at the clinic… I thought you might help me.”

“Sorry, but, why?” asked Celeste. “Like I said, this is the friendliest conversation we've ever had and I've still got my hand on my knife.”

“'Cause we're not that different,” said Shego. “We're both thieves, we think similarly. Much of my skills I cut while chasing you, years back. You're running from GeneNominal and I'm running from … someone else.”

“That doesn't mean we'd be good friends,” said Celeste.

“Also, I don't know how successful your work has been for you,” said Shego. “But as soon as I find a way to reconnect with my Swiss accounts, I can certainly make this a lucrative venture.”

Celeste tried to resist the sounds of cash registers ringing in her mind. She failed. “Well, at least that's the first compelling argument I've heard from you yet.”

Shego smiled.

---

“Zita!” called Kim as she caught up with her after the last bell.

“Hey, Kim,” she said, slowing her pace. “You ready to audition?”

“Actually,” said Kim putting her head to the back of her head. “I'm not.”

Zita stopped and turned toward Kim. “What now?”

“I'm not backing out, I just had something come up at the last minute,” Kim said. “Somebody's missing and I need to help find her.”

“Someone is missing?” asked Zita. “Kidnapped?”

“No, she ran away,” said Kim. “She's really a pain in the ass, but she could get in trouble if she's on her own, so…” she trailed off. “Man, even I don't believe that.”

“Uh-huh,” said Zita, nonplussed.

“Really, I do have to find her,” said Kim. “I will audition, I promise.”

“Well, lets not delay too much longer,” said Zita. “Final parts get posted next week.”

“This won't take a week,” assured Kim.

“Are you sure you don’t have like, five minutes to sing a few notes?” asked Zita.

“Um, I don’t really think drama takes precedence over missing people,” said Kim.

“Alright,” Zita held up her hands. “See you tomorrow.”

“Thanks!”

---

Kim walked through downtown Middleton in much of a state of confusion. While accepting people's requests for help had been something she was turning a blind eye to as of late -- at least as far as her website was concerned -- she'd never considered it had gotten her out of practice or out of touch. But standing at the corner of Rose and Main in the middle of the city it became apparent to her that she had little idea of where to actually find Shego.

Typically in times like this she would call on her extensive rolodex of contacts. But the grand master of finding people had always been Wade and he had packed up and left months ago.

Kim still felt guilty about the disagreement they had, but it was her choice to make. She wanted to wait, she didn't feel she was ready yet to go back to crime fighting yet, but Wade felt differently. He said she was just using getting hurt as an excuse and that she was just being a coward. Naturally, Kim didn't react well to that.

In the aftermath of their argument, Wade accepted a position at a fairly high profile think tank for young geniuses in Hartford. He got on a train heading there three months back, but never arrived. Attendants had said he departed the train on his own at a stop in Pennsylvania and subsequently vanished.

The police still were looking for him, and Kim even reached out to Dr. Director for help, but nobody could locate him. She couldn't help but feel she drove him to run away, but lots of people said it wasn't true, even her ‘therapist.’ Still, with both Wade and Ron gone it made her feel oddly… cursed.

Trying to bring her mind back to the present, Kim imagined herself as Shego. Where would she go for help if she'd just gotten out of a coma after six months and no longer had any super powers? The first two names that came to mind were Dr. Drakken and Senior Senior Junior. Since the former was still in an GJ holding facility last Kim knew, and even at full strength Shego would probably trouble breaking into there, she decided to drop in on her favorite billionaire's son.

As soon as she found a ride.

---

“Okay, so when you say ‘magic’…”

“You were not this annoying seven years ago,” said Shego. She paused. “Okay, yeah, you were. But for a totally different reason.”

She and Celeste, aka Bella Negra, were sitting at the hotel bar now talking over a green apple martini and an Irish coffee. The rooftop of the twenty-five story building in February quickly became uncomfortable earlier and they had adjourned to the bar.

“I believe you are who you say you are,” said Celeste. “I just want to make sure this super aging thing isn't contagious.”

“Have you ever ‘caught’ old age from anyone else you know?” asked Shego, stupefied.

“I guess not.” Celeste sipped her drink. “So, what is it exactly you're expecting from me?”

“I need time to get access to my accounts,” said Shego. “I can do it over the internet, but not with Global Justice breathing down my neck. So I need a place to stay where I won't be found.”

“Global who?”

“Trust me, if you don't know, you don't need to,” assured Shego. She suddenly looked somber as she sipped her martini. “Also, I need some time to figure out what I’m going to do.”

“With the money?” asked Celeste, casually displaying her own primary concern.

“With my life,” grumbled Shego.

Celeste looked uncomfortable. “Oh.”

“There's no way I can go back to what I was doing like this,” Shego said, gesturing to her face and body.

“I know several aged thieves,” offered Celeste.

“Sean Connery in ‘Entrapment’ doesn't count.”

“Well, I know at least one,” compromised Celeste.

“I don't either,” added Shego.

“I'm sure there are more out there,” Celeste finally said.

Shego sighed heavily. “I always thought I would die young too.”

“Now's not really the time to become fatalistic,” said Celeste. “That's a thief's worst enemy. Believing you've failed before you've even acted.”

“It's hard to get past when looking in the mirror.”

“Then why bother me at all,” shrugged Celeste. “Why even ask for time if you don't already have a plan?”

Shego hesitated. Did she have a plan? Or was she still just reeling from the shock of becoming how she was? That nurse last night had said something profound, and she was just starting to appreciate it. She would have to make things happen for her.

“I might have something,” said Shego. “I'm not sure of the details yet, but it's the start of an idea.”

“Ooh, interesting,” smiled Celeste. “What's it like?”

“Well, first we're going to need something more private than a hotel room to talk in.”

“Eh?”

---

It'd taken more than a few calls and several favors, but Kim finally made it to the Seniors’ island before dark. She wondered how many times she'd been to this place following stolen property or insane plots to bring fame to Junior.

Of all her villains, Kim felt the most responsible for the Seniors. They were just a family. A cosmically rich one, indeed, but still, they had gained that wealth through legitimate means. It was only after meeting with Kim that they had turned towards evil. She often wondered, if she had never come to this island, would they still have become villains?

Mind on the task, Kim thought to herself. Can't be distracted now.

She entered the main mansion and wandered about, persistently amazed at how she never seemed to see servants on the island and yet she knew they had to exist in scores just to maintain the immaculate manor. No sign of the Seniors this time, either, which was disconcerting. Were they here? Or were they out already causing trouble.

Suddenly the lights in the house went out simultaneously and Kim found herself largely in the dark.

“Ahh, Kim Possible,” said a voice absolutely belonging to Senior. “I'd heard you were retired.”

“I came out of retirement just for you, Senior Senior Senior,” said Kim to the room.

“What a shame,” replied Senior. “If I knew you were coming I'd have prepared a deathtrap.”

The lights in the room blazed to life and Kim found herself standing on a single pedestal amidst a giant pool of sharks. She teetered back and forth a little before finally getting her balance back.

“Oh, wait,” Senior continued. “I did.”

Kim held her hands out to keep her balance as she looked down at the sharks eagerly swimming below. “I only came to talk, Senior, you don't need to do this,” she called out.

“Then talk, for I am always eager to listen,” the speakers echoed.

“I'm here looking for Shego,” Kim said. “I know she used to be a close friend of your son.”

“Her tutelage of my son in the ways of villain was much appreciated,” said Senior. “But that was years ago. She has had no place here since then.”

“No place?” asked Kim. “Hey, is Junior there? Maybe I can talk to him.”

“There is nothing my son can tell you that I cannot,” said Senior, wistfully. “Actually, it's much more likely that I can tell you more than he can on his own.”

“There's familial love,” said Kim, sarcastically.

“Wisdom is something that grows with age, but can't be easily passed,” said Senior. “My son will learn the things I do with time.”

“Look, Shego's gone through a couple things,” said Kim. “She's hurt, in a way, and I'm just trying to keep her from getting more hurt. So if you don't have her here, I need to be going.”

“Not before you defeat my deathtrap, Ms. Possible,” said Senior.

Kim sighed. “If I defeat your deathtrap, will you tell me if you've seen Shego?” she asked blandly.

“Hm… yes, that would be an agreeable bargain,” said Senior.

Shaking her head, Kim looked down at the pool again, looking at the pillar she'd been standing on. It wasn't too big, which is why she was trying to keep her balance, probably no more than a foot in diameter. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of gum. Tossing it down she noticed as soon as it hit the water the sharks got worked up into a frenzy. She sighed, this was never fun.

She leapt off the pillar and grabbed it as she fell, swinging around it in a spiral as she descended towards the water. Below, the sharks were already thrashing at their expected meal. Kim kept her eyes open for the escape route and, mere seconds before the bottom, she saw it: a metal grating covering a hole, apparently used to control the level of water in the pool. It was currently just above the surface.

Shifting her body weight to change her direction, she flung herself towards the grating, coming up predictably short. As a shark swam up to get its first bite, Kim aimed her foot right at the fish's nose, striking it hard and using it has a springboard to cover the rest of the distance. She pushed herself forward and over to the wall with the grating, pulling it off with one hand and throwing it at the second leaping shark. The grating wedged in the shark's mouth, propping it open, giving Kim a good place to push from to get the rest of the way into the hole.

Pulling herself forward with her arms she wiggled her way down the dark pipeline until she reached a junction. There she had enough room to reposition herself and proceed feet forward until she came to an access hatch. With a swift kick, it came loose from it's bolts and shed welcomed light into the pipe. With a quick push of her arms, she flung herself out of the pipeline and into the service corridor.

Where Senior and his guard were waiting.

“Very good, Ms. Possible,” said Senior. “But I'm afraid, I'm better.”

“Hang on, we had a deal,” said Kim. “I escaped your deathtrap.”

“Yes, yes,” nodded Senior. “We did have a deal, and as much as the villain's code would have me betray that deal, there is little to be gained here.” He waved to one of his guards who quickly produced a piece of paper.

“You missed her by a hair,” said Senior. “Although, she was not actually here. She contacted my son and they scheduled a meeting for Friday.”

“Friday?” said Kim.

“Indeed,” nodded Senior, handing over the piece of paper. “This is the meeting location.”

“Aren't you, like, betraying your son by giving me this information?” asked Kim, confused.

“You are the ‘hero’ are you not, Ms. Possible?”

“Yes,” said Kim, suspiciously.

“So I can take you at your word,” confirmed Senior.

“Of course.”

“Then I trust you are only after Ms. Shego, and not my son,” turned Senior. “That girl was a great asset at one time, but now she is merely causing Junior to stray from the path. I will shed no tears at her capture.”

The guards fell in line behind Senior and they slowly departed.

---

“After midnight?” asked Mr. Dr. Possible to his weary daughter.

“I've been trying to chase down Shego ever since she fled the hospital,” said Kim. She flopped onto the couch, exhausted. “I had to go all the way to the Seniors’ island.”

“Hmm, not good for a school night,” said her father. He was taking notes on a clipboard for… something. Kim imagined she wouldn’t understand it even if she saw so she paid it little attention.

“I found out she's planning a meeting in Middleton on Friday,” said Kim. “So I shouldn't be out late until then.”

“I thought you weren't doing this sort of work anymore,” said her father.

Kim rolled onto her back. “Dr. Alvares begged me to help and… he's been nice about me staying past visiting hours. I probably owed him.” She closed her eyes. “But after this week, I definitely won't anymore.”

“Well, it's nice to see you energetic about something again,” said Mr. Dr. Possible, nodding. He looked at his lethargic daughter. “Well, relatively energetic.”

“I'm going to get to bed,” said Kim, struggling to get back up on her feet. “Odds are I won't have a convenient excuse to get out of auditioning tomorrow, so I'll have to finally do that.”

“Favor for a friend?” asked her dad.

“Yeah, sorta,” nodded Kim. “More of Ron's friend but… well, she wanted my help, and I wasn't doing anything else.”

“I see,” nodded Mr. Dr. Possible.

Kim slunk her way upstairs and crawled into her bed.

---

Shego stood on the top of Celeste's hotel, shivering slightly in the cold breeze as she held her arms. She'd actually made her first move towards accepting this life, this fate that she'd been cursed with, and it felt sort of good. It didn't have to be a death sentence, there was still more she could do, even like this.

Her stance wavered. But she didn't want to do it like this. She wanted her youth back, desperately. She could do without her power, it was useful but not her only defining attribute, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn't rid herself of this yearning for lost years, for a life she used to take for granted.

When Stoppable had come for her, back in that world oppressed by the Occupation Army, she had felt relief. She thought that she could finally stop being other people; that she could at long last be herself again. But it wasn't true. One look in a mirror could confirm that. She was still living another person's life, only this time she'd kept her name and her history. It somehow made it worse instead of better.

Somewhere out there, in a distant world, Carey and Juny were with their Aunt and Uncle. She wondered if they were happy, if they understood at all what she had done. That woman who was their real mother was a vile criminal, she had to be contained. But there was no way to tell them, to tell anyone, who she really was, so she had to simply hope things worked out. It wasn't a paradise, that world, but it was the closest she'd ever felt to home.

Tears formed in her eyes as she thought of her children. How had she become so attached to them? They weren't hers, and she'd only known them for eight months. But they were special months, that filled her full of love she didn't know she had within her. Carey and Juny had nobody but her to count on, no one to protect them or care for them. It was a big responsibility, raising them, but one that Shego was easily able to take on once forced. She was almost happy there.

The lightest sound of footsteps altered Shego to the other presence on the roof, slowly emerging from the shadows. It was a tall, muscular man completely covered in black save for a slot over his eyes. Shego casually turned and wiped her eyes to hide any traces of tears.

“So, who are you?” asked Shego, raising an eyebrow. His figure reminded Shego of Senior Senior Junior in a way, though this man had apparently spent time working his entire body, rather than just his chest and arm muscles like Junior had. Still, that time she'd trained Junior she had dressed him up in a similar outfit.

After a couple moments of musing, Shego realized the man had not responded. “Oookay,” Shego decided to break the silence. “Well, I don't want any trouble, so don't mind me.”

“Panther,” said the large man. His voice was deep, and rumbling.

Shego blinked. “Not on this roof, there isn't,” she said. “I'm pretty sure I would have noticed a rooftop dwelling panther.”

The man turned his head slightly as if confused then tipped his head to the side slightly. He began looking around the rooftop, slowly scanning the place with his eyes before turning and walking to the edge, staring down.

Shego said nothing and, after a minute, the man leapt with incredible speed from the building, easily landing on the next. From there he repeated the process, leaping from building to building until Shego could see him no more.

Just then the door to the roof opened and Celeste stuck her head out. “Shego? You up here?”

Shego kept her eyes on where the larger man had disappeared to. “So,” she said. “Who's looking for you?”

Celeste blinked. “Wha?”

“A very large man just asked me about a panther,” said Shego. She turned and leaned against the rooftop edge as she looked at Celeste. “Unless a pack of wild rooftop panthers moved into Middleton while I was in a coma, I imagine he was looking for you, Bella Negra.”

“Er,” Celeste looked away. “Big man, wearing all black, says practically nothing?”

“That would be the one,” said Shego.

“Hrm,” she sagged. “I ran into him last night while I was… liberating some information from the Exchange building. He's the reason I was in the hospital.”

Shego shook her head. “This is not a good start,” she said. “Let's get back inside before he notices you.”

---

“Well, K,” said Bonnie at the lockers before class. “That's twice now.”

“I'm doing it this afternoon, so you can back off, Bon-bon,” said Kim.

“I wouldn't want you to do you don't have the ability to,” Bonnie egged her on.

“Oh, I've got the ability,” Kim got into her face. “I just hope we don't have to deal with the waterworks when I get the part and you don't.”

Kim turned on her foot and stormed off to class. Behind her Bonnie smiled genuinely.

---

“Buh,” said Kim, sitting down in first period History class. “I shouldn't have to deal with that so early in the morning.”

“Troubles?” asked Monique. She was trying to say as little as possible to be cautious, she had a feeling that yesterday's conversation about therapy had strained their relationship somewhat.

“Just Bonnie,” said Kim. “I don't need her to remind me of the things I'm already thinking about doing.”

“Auditions?” ventured Monique.

“Yeah,” nodded Kim. “Shego's apparently gone AWOL and her doctor asked me to look for her, so I couldn't go yesterday. I'll do it today.”

“Did you find her?”

“No,” Kim shook her head. “But I got some … somewhat reliable information that she's scheduled a meeting in Middleton on Friday. I'll just wait it out and grab her then.”

“Why would she schedule a meeting?” asked Monique, confused.

“I'm not sure, but it involves Senior Senior Junior, so I'm not pleased at what it might mean.” Kim leaned on her hand. “Although, she's not typically the ‘schedule and meet’ type of person, more of the ‘break in and demand’ sort. I wonder what's up?”

“She's hardly as spry as she used to be,” said Monique. “Maybe she needs that much time just to get there.”

“I wouldn't assume that. Shego is nothing if not determined.”

“There isn't any way for her to… you know,” Monique gestured. “Get young again, is there?”

“The doctors aren't even sure how she got old,” said Kim. “I assume it's some wonky side-effect of the Mantle of Tenoch. But that strangely vanished or got absorbed by her body or whatever. Ultimately, it's gone now, so there's nothing to even study to find a reversal.”

“It vanished while she was in a coma?” asked Monique.

“Yeah,” nodded Kim.

“So… maybe Junior has it, and that's why she's meeting with him.”

Kim blinked. “That's… not a terribly bad idea,” she said. “Though I would be curious as to how he got it off her, since even the combined might of GJ failed to get it off. There aren't a lot of people who know much about the mantle.”

“Girl, Senior is rich to the bones,” said Monique. “If there was information out there, I'm sure he could buy it.”

“Good point,” nodded Kim. She stared aimlessly for a moment then sighed. “I guess I need to talk to Senior again.”

“Just grab Junior at the meeting,” said Monique. “It beats flying across the world for a social visit.”

“I suppose,” said Kim.

“Morning everyone,” said Dr. Rick as he finally arrived. “I hope you're all ready for a day of glorious learning.”

The class made sounds as if they were the undead in response.

---

Kim had just sat down after grabbing her salad when she was suddenly joined by Zita. “Kim, do you have five minutes?” she asked, urgently.

“Well, I'm eating but--” started Kim.

“Can you come to the music room to do the audition now?” she asked.

“Now?” puzzled Kim.

“Mr. Henderson has an open period right now. He said if you're typically busy after school he can hear you now.”

Kim looked awkwardly around but there was no one nearby to get support from. “I suppose?” offered Kim. “But my lunch--”

“You can take it with you,” said Zita, grabbing Kim's tray and lifting it.

Kim watched her salad start moving away. She sighed and fell in line behind it.

“So, how'd that thing go after school yesterday,” asked Zita as they walked through the halls.

“It could have been worse,” said Kim, shrugging.

“I noticed you weren't doing that saving the world stuff anymore,” said Zita. “Why'd you stop?”

Kim opened her mouth but then subsequently closed it. There wasn't nearly enough history between her and Zita to talk about this, so it was better if she didn't.

“Personal reasons,” said Kim, and felt the issue best left at that.

Zita disagreed. “I miss Ron being around,” she said, rather suddenly.

Kim felt both conflicted and hurt at the same time. Ron was her boyfriend now, she didn’t need to hear the feelings of one of his former interests. Of course, Ron was on the other side of the world now. With that Yori girl, most likely. She wondered if he even remembered her. “He abandoned me,” Kim said, then almost immediately regretted it.

“He did it to me first, you know,” said Zita. “Though I realized eventually it wasn't intentional.”

“How could it not be intentional?” asked Kim, sharply.

“You know him,” said Zita. “He's lives on synchronicity. I was lucky to get his attention for as long as I did. He doesn't intend to be mean to anyone, but his attention drifts on unseen currents.”

“He's just easily distracted,” said Kim. “He can focus if he needs to.”

“Of course he can,” said Zita. “But I don't think he really wants to. His chaotic life is freedom to him, and he won't give that up willingly. Even for us.”

Kim frowned. She wanted to scream at Zita for butting her nose in business that didn’t involve her. She wanted yell that she didn't know him as well as she did.

But she couldn't. Ron held a big place in her heart, she didn't want to hear that there wasn't an equally sized piece in his. She didn't want to admit that even on their closest days, his interest was passing, and often distracted by his various obsessions. Sure, he had intensity, and passion, and there had been very romantic times between them, but for some reason they always had to struggle to find them. There was always something else in the way first, that Kim had to push aside to find his fire.

What did that mean? Did he really like her? Was this just how love was in his mind? Or was she just another of his long list of obsessions, drawn to the forefront by current events, but pushed aside when something new came along? She had no idea, and she hated him for not being around to ask.

Kim felt the pain again, the piercing jab in her heart she woke up to every morning after Ron left. How long would she feel betrayed? Would she still feel it when he returned?

Was he going to return?

“He'll be back,” said Zita, almost reading Kim's mind. “Soon, I get the feeling.”

“How can you be sure, if his life is as random as you say?” asked Kim.

“I'm not sure,” Zita shook her head. “But… it's strange. I had this dream last night and I could have sworn I remembered Ron in it, just standing there, watching me in the corner of my eye. I don’t know why he would be there, the dream had nothing to do with him, but… I just felt like it was him.” She smiled slightly. “I think it means he'll be returning soon.”

Kim didn't really think dreams were any good sign of anything, and found it hard to put any faith in Zita's statement. But then again, Shego had said something about Ron and dreams earlier too. She hadn't had the opportunity to inquire further about it and now she wished she had.

“Here we are,” said Zita, opening the door to the music room. Mr. Henderson, one of the elder teachers with short peppered gray hair wearing a sky-blue shirt with a brown sweater over it, was sitting by a piano making notes on some sheets of music. The music room was fairly large with a number of instruments to one side and a series of raised platforms for the choir to stand on during practices.

“Hi, Zita,” said Mr. Henderson. He turned his attentions towards Kim. “Hi, Kim.”

“Hello, Mr. Henderson,” said Kim, politely. She'd never been in this room, it quickly occurred to her. Despite her vocal talents, she'd never been particularly interested in the choir or in playing an instrument.

“I'm glad you could spare some time for your audition,” he said smiling. “I know you one of our busiest students.”

“Not all too busy until recently,” said Kim. “But if you think I might be able to help out, I'd be glad to give it a try.”

“Great,” said Mr. Henderson. “If you wouldn't mind standing on the first row over there.” He motioned towards the raised dais. He dug through the papers sitting on top of the piano before finally pulling out three sheets covered in text and one page with music on it. He handed the pages to Zita who ferried them over to Kim while Mr. Henderson sat at the piano.

“We'll start with the dialog pages,” the teacher said. “Zita will read for Raoul, you read the parts marked ‘Christine.'”

Kim nodded. Raoul was Christine's love interest in the play, it would be weird playing that role opposite a girl, but she figured it was no stranger than all parts in Romeo and Juliet being played by men back in Shakespeare's time.

“Begin when you're ready,” said Mr. Henderson.

---

Celeste looked over Shego's shoulder at the cybercafé in downtown Middleton located on the opposite side of the city as their hotel.

“Are you sure we should be doing this here?” she whispered to her.

“There's nothing illegal about getting my account information,” said Shego. “I don't care who's watching right now.”

“Then why did we come all the way out here?” asked Celeste, looking around. There were a strangely high number of elder citizens in this café. Well, strange compared to her previous conceptions about such a place. She'd never been in one before now but had always assumed they'd be filled with throngs of young nerds.

“Because someone will notice I've checked my account sometime tonight,” said Shego. “I'd rather they start searching for me here, rather than closer to your hotel.”

“Oh,” said Celeste.

Shego changed browser windows on the computer. She was researching everything she could on this ‘Black Shadow’ that Celeste said was on her tail. The silent man was intriguing to her, and she wondered what his story was. She was in no hurry to meet the man again, but it didn't hurt to know more about potential enemies.

“Looks like he first showed up in New York,” said Shego. “Then Philadelphia, Albany, Trenton, and Boston. Odd.”

“Odd?” asked Celeste. “Why?”

“Well, because they seem out of order,” explained Shego. “You have to go south from New York City to get to Philadelphia, then north past New York City to Albany, then south again past New York to Trenton, then finally north past all those cities to Boston. It would make more sense for him to have started in Philadelphia, then headed north to Trenton, New York, Albany, then Boston.”

“They're radiating out of New York City, though,” pointed out Celeste. “He could be based there.”

“But there are no sightings anywhere in New York City after he first showed up in Philly,” Shego frowned. “I don't get it. It's almost like he's looking for someone who used to be in New York but is not sure where they went afterwards.”

“You think he's checking every city?” asked Celeste.

“Every major one, anyway,” shrugged Shego. “I just don't get why he'd be after you now. If he's searching that intently, why waste time to deal with random criminals.”

“Maybe he just has very strong morals,” said Celeste.

Shego mused about that as she switched back to the bank screen. She'd entered a boatload of information about herself to recover her access and it was apparently still not enough to get through. She was starting to regret never really wasting her time monitoring her funds. She'd find a way to fly out there in person, if she wasn't almost positive that her appearance would make it even more difficult.

Shego typed in a bunch more dates, places, and numbers to prove who she was. By the end she'd determined this digital age sucked.

Finally she received a login to check her account and entered the information in quickly. Her balance appeared and some options for manipulating her money. She'd have to transfer some of it to something easier to access in the US.

“Holy…” started Celeste from over Shego's shoulder. “How did… don't you ever spend your money?” she asked, astonished.

Shego shook her head. “Not really,” she replied. “I'm usually pretty well provided for by the goons I work with. Apart from the random spa day I rarely have a need for my money.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “And, come to think of it, I expensed the last couple of those I took to Drakken.”

“Then… why…” said Celeste, but she was evidently lost in thought looking at the many glorious zeroes.

“The challenge,” shrugged Shego, scheduling some of her money to be sent to an independent bank nearby to withdraw. “I never cared much for money, but negotiating contracts is fun. I needed to put it somewhere, so I just had it all wired to these accounts.”

“We could buy the hotel we're staying at for this much money,” said Celeste, slightly drooling. “Twice.”

“Oh, I'm sure that wouldn't attract attention,” said Shego, sarcastically. She finished her banking and logged out of the account. Celeste almost looked depressed when the browser closed. Shego stood and shut off the computer. “All right, let's get to the bank, and then you're going to switch hotels.”

“I am?” asked Celeste, puzzled.

“Unless you want to increase the odds that Black Shadow finds you,” pointed out Shego.

“I'm going to go with ‘no’ on that one,” said Celeste, leading the way out of the café.

---

Against all odds, the audition actually made Kim feel good. The conversation leading up to it could have been lighter, but pretending to be someone else, then singing with the passion of a budding romance was exhilarating. Mr. Henderson's enthusiastic praise was even more boosting to her morale. She could definitely enjoy this thoroughly. The final casting would be posted next Tuesday. She could hardly wait.

“Well, if isn't Ms. Perfect,” came Bonnie's sarcastic voice, barreling down the hall like a bulldozer. Kim simply ignored the venom.

“I just auditioned over lunch,” said Kim. “So you can drop it.”

“Feh,” said Bonnie, folding her arms. “Not until we see if you got cast.”

“I'm not too worried,” said Kim, walking past Bonnie and humming to herself.

Bonnie raised an eyebrow as her rival traveled down the hall. Finally she's gotten her back into the game. Now, how to turn this around so that she ended up on top?

---

“So, how'd she do?”

Zita looked up to see Malcolm leering over her as she played with the lighting controls for the stage. The techs on stage assembling the opera house were now bathed in red light with three spots of green.

“Pretty good,” Zita said, turning back to her work. The lighting table was horribly complicated to program, for reasons that she couldn't decipher. She had to constantly remind herself that the controls were intended to control stage lighting and that she wasn't repurposing it from some other task. The fact that setting up a new lighting sequence required her to hold three buttons in diametrically opposite places on the keypad didn't seem to help.

“Think she'll get in?” asked Malcolm.

“It's fairly certain,” she said, bending over briefly to use her nose to press the third key. “Henderson was pretty impressed. She shouldn't have any trouble.”

“Excellent,” said Malcolm, excited. Zita glanced up at him skeptically, then returned to her work. She had to be careful not to hit any buttons she didn't intend to or she'd have to start from scratch on the lighting program. She looked around the table.

“Have you seen my script?” Zita asked, looking under the table and in the overhead shelves.

“No,” said Malcolm, who soon joined her on the search. After a few minutes they found it under one leg of the stereo cabinet in the corner. Zita boggled as to how it got there, but opened it up to her page of notes.

“Do you think she'll like it?” asked Malcolm. “Being in the play.”

Zita frowned as she looked at the lighting sequence she had scribbled. She didn't have the right lights to do it all, so she'd have to improvise. “She seemed to enjoy singing,” said Zita, before beginning to press the lighting cues in sequence, slowly.

“Do you think she'll…” he trailed off.

“I'm trying to think about not screwing up these lights,” said Zita, rolling her eyes. On stage, the lights were changing from brown to dark red to white and then pale green. Some of the techs fell to the ground in mock seizures, but Zita continued on regardless.

“Do you think I have a chance?” Malcolm finally asked.

Zita sighed. “I'm not going to tell you what to do,” she said. “She holds a torch for Ron, and I'm not going to kid you, she acts like its destiny.”

“Oh,” said Malcolm. “But he's gone now, right?”

“I have no idea what that guy thinks really,” said Zita. “But I wouldn’t assume he's gone for good. I have a feeling he's going to be back soon.”

“A feeling?” asked Malcolm, confused.

Zita finished entering the lighting cues and held down the function button while moving the third slider up and down six times to get the panel to stop recording. Or was it supposed to be seven? She moved it a few more times to be sure. “Just a feeling,” she said.

“Hrm,” mumbled Malcolm. “Do you think they'll just get back together?”

“Would your feelings change if they did?” asked Zita, running the program she just entered. Instead of changing between colors in the slow sequence she'd set, the lights blazed on and off through the program in ten seconds then all lights on the stage came on at once, blanketing the whole area in a blinding light. She quickly flicked the master lighting switch and moved the slider down, dimming them all at once. She peered out of the window in her booth at the stage. It looked like a couple students had gotten lightly tanned. Zita threw her script on the lighting panel in frustration. “This thing was created by hellspawn. I'm sure of it.”

“My feelings wouldn't change,” said Malcolm firmly, continuing the conversation.

Zita swiveled her chair to look at him. “Then don't waste your time thinking about it,” she said. “For what it's worth, I think you've got the right approach. Getting her into drama club will give you more in common, more to talk about. Talking is good.”

“Not for you, though,” said Malcolm, raising an eyebrow.

“I like talking,” Zita said defensively. “I just don’t like to say much.”

“…” said Malcolm.

“…” she agreed.

---

Kim arrived in the office just before four and already started to feel the good mood she'd been in since the audition start to dribble away. The muted colors in the lobby were combined with several ‘inspirational’ posters of various seemingly profound but ultimately impossible to apply philosophy. Several nice leather chairs sat in the room with some magazines between them and a bold receptionist's desk made of granite loomed eerily to one side.

Kim approached the desk and smiled to the receptionist. “I'm here to see Dr. Talstead,” she said.

The man behind the desk nodded. “I'll let her know, Ms. Possible. Have a seat while you're waiting.” He looked down to his computer and began clicking. Kim took a step back then went to sit down in one of the chairs. Despite their lavish appearance, the chairs were actually quite uncomfortable in Kim's opinion.

A few minutes passed and Kim had idly picked up a fashion magazine and looked casually over the advertisements for makeup. She never really was a big proponent of makeup but she occasionally looked to see if there were any major fashion shifts. It was also a relief anytime she opened a magazine and saw no mention of ‘Kim-Style.’

“Kim,” the receptionist suddenly said. She looked up. “Dr. Talstead said you can go on in.”

“Thanks,” said Kim, tossing the magazine onto the stack and heading for the solid wooden door.

With a short breath she turned the handle and strode in. The office of Dr. Talstead was quite simple. It was rectangular lengthwise with a couple potted plants, a large old oak desk, two couches and four chairs, and only a couple things hanging on the walls. The colors matched the lobby, using sandy yellow colors and browns in contrast.

“Hi Kim,” said Dr. Talstead, looking up from her notebook and peering over her half-moon glasses. Dr. Theresa Talstead was a middle-aged woman, just beginning to show her grays at the temples, with shoulder length curly hair, slightly tanned skin and the tendency to wear sweaters. Today was no exceptions, as she had a knitted sweater jacket over her shoulders in a dark green color.

“Hi… Terri,” said Kim. The doctor had insisted she call her by her first name in order to make things appear less formal. Kim was of the opinion that people use what's most comfortable to them by default anyway, and that by insisting she use a certain name was, in fact, less relaxing. She'd not voiced her opinion to the good doctor, however.

“I see I finally rose to the top of your schedule,” she said, somewhat jokingly … but also somewhat accusatory.

“I've been busy recently,” said Kim, coming over to sit by the desk. Terri stood and walked around the desk to sit on the chair beside her.

“Must be pretty important stuff,” said the doctor.

“Some of it is, I guess?” said Kim, looking around. She'd gotten so bored of this office. “Sorry for not calling you in advance on Tuesday.”

“Its fine,” nodded Terri. “I'm glad you're getting out again.”

“I don’t know about ‘getting out’,” started Kim. “I've just been trying to track down an old… friend.”

“Why'd you hesitate?” asked Terri.

“It's Shego,” said Kim. “I know your opinions on her and I, and I still disagree.”

“Which is fine,” said Terri.

“But she's out of her element,” continued Kim. “She's going to hurt herself because she has no idea how to act now that she's old.”

Terri laughed. “Getting old isn't like traveling to another country, many people just continue doing what they've always done.”

“Well, she's a henchman,” said Kim. “And a thief. Neither of those things are probably easy now that she's over seventy.”

“Were they easy to begin with?” asked Terri.

“No,” said Kim, frowning.

“Then, I'm sure she'll manage. Based on what you've told me of her, she's very resourceful.” Terri reached over her desk and grabbed her notebook and pen. “Unless you have some other reason to chase after her.”

“She's up to something,” said Kim, nodding.

“Ah, of course,” said Terri, writing.

“I hate it when you do that,” said Kim, annoyed. “When you just randomly agree with me then begin jotting notes. I feel like you're just keeping a tally and once you reach a certain number you're going to throw me in an asylum.”

Terri blinked. “I had no idea,” she said, closing her book. “I'm not going to put you into an asylum, Kim. You're fairly mentally balanced.”

“Then why always with the notes after I say something?” said Kim.

“Mostly because I can't remember everything,” smiled Terri. “Sorry if I made you feel nervous.”

“It's alright, I guess,” said Kim.

“So you've been looking for Shego because she ran away?” asked Terri.

“Yeah, and her doctor asked me to find her.” Kim looked out the window behind Terri's desk. “He's been kind to me, so I thought I'd give him a hand. But it's starting to look like Shego may be up to her old habits again, so I'm sort of regretting it.”

“You don't want to be involved in that kind of life anymore,” said Terri. “Helping people.”

“No, that's not it,” said Kim. “I just… I want time. I'm not ready to go back to all that…”

“When will you be ready?” asked Terri. “It's already been six months, and you've fully recovered from your injury.”

“When I'm ready,” said Kim.

“Why aren't you ready now?”

“Because I'm not,” insisted Kim. Terri looked at her plainly. “I just don’t think…” she trailed off and immediately regretted it.

“Are you afraid?” asked Terri.

“No,” Kim said quickly.

“Both Ron and Wade are gone,” said Terri. “Do you think that you can't do it without them?”

“It's hard without Wade,” said Kim. “But clearly not impossible. I started long before I ever met Wade, after all.”

“What about Ron?”

“Ron…” started Kim. “I've managed without him in the past as well.”

“You've done a lot on your own,” said Terri. “But that doesn't mean you don't need your friends.”

“I don't need my friends to catch Shego,” Kim said firmly.

“But you want them,” suggested Terri.

Kim frowned. “I guess.”

“Why wouldn't you want them?” asked Terri. “Don't they make it easier?”

“I don't need things to be easy,” insisted Kim.

“That's not what I asked.”

“Well, then, what?” said Kim, angrily. “Is it easier having a contact that can get any piece of information at any time? Yes, of course it is. Is it easier fighting scores of baddies with a partner? Obviously.”

“Then you want them back with you,” concluded Terri.

Kim paused. “Yeah, fine, I want them back.”

“Why wouldn't you want them to help you?”

“I just said I wanted them back,” said Kim. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to tell me why you aren't completely comfortable with Ron and Wade coming back to work with you when they've been two of your closest friends for a while now,” said Terri. “You say they make things easier, that they're helpful, and that you miss them. Why wouldn’t you want them to return?”

“Because they betrayed me!” yelled Kim. She shuttered in her own skin for just saying it and felt terrible. She held her arms tight against her and looked away.

“Don't close up, Kim,” said Terri, softly. “Why do you think they've betrayed you?”

“I count on them,” said Kim, reluctantly. “I expect them to be there to… but they left, when I needed them.”

“They betrayed your trust in them to keep you safe,” said Terri.

“I don't need them to keep me safe,” said Kim. “I go into combat mostly on my own.”

“I'm not talking about physical safety, Kim,” said Terri. “You were part of a team. An independent, self-empowered team out there doing things others wouldn't. You put yourself out in the open over an ideal, which was incredibly dangerous. But as a team, you faced it, endured it.”

Terri leaned forward slightly. “When you spend enough time as a team, you start to become more than just co-workers. You start to view each other as part of a family. Everything that happens to one, happens to all. You become much like an emotional safety net, protecting each other in case something falls.”

“When Ron left, your safety net fell apart,” said Terri. “And you fell a little bit. Then when Wade left, the rest of it vanished.”

Terri looked sadly at her. “So you are afraid, despite what you tell me, and it makes sense. Don’t deny it to yourself. The people who had always protected you are gone. It's got to be shocking, and scary.”

Kim frowned deeply.

“Anyone would be afraid,” said Terri. “And you have to acknowledge that fear if you want to overcome it. Face it. Don't let it be nameless and in the dark or it will keep coming back at you.”

Kim looked down. “If they felt the same way, why did they leave?”

“They probably haven't, not in their minds,” said Terri. “Ron is still trying to be your safety net, that’s why you said he left, to find new ways of protecting you. Your friend Wade said he left to keep the fight on, to protect your ‘vision’ which he viewed as equally as important as your person.”

“That's not fair,” said Kim. “They can leave and feel fine and I get stuck with this stupid feeling.”

“I'm sure it was agonizing to them as well,” said Terri. “They may have made choices that are questionable, but they weren't any easier to make. If, in your heart, you really want them back, you have to forgive them for that.”

Kim looked up. “Forgive?”

“Or you'll never stop feeling betrayed,” said Terri.

Kim closed her eyes. Why are all the hard things to do so easy to say?

---

Black.

The only thing he could see, feel, touch, taste, or hear anymore was black. It was terrifying not to be able to have any sense of where he was or for how long. Sensory deprivation was supposed to be a form of torture and he could easily see how that was the case. The only reason why he was able to keep his mind sharp was because his jailor would occasionally come to visit.

From the oozing blackness, a figure appeared in the shape of a well built man dressed all in black. He was tall, quiet, and imposing.

Wade Load simply got up from his sitting position and put his hands on his hips. “What now?” he asked, with a scowl.

“I can't find the Panther,” said the black figure.

“Sorry to hear that,” said Wade in a tone of voice that indicated, clearly, that he wasn't.

“Help me find the Panther,” insisted the figure.

“Let. Me. Go,” insisted Wade.

“I will not,” said the figure. He spoke in complete monotone matching the singular color of his dress, and the singular purpose for which he acted. “You cannot be released.”

“Then stop asking for my advice,” said Wade.

“You have a stake in my continued existence,” said the man in black. “It benefits you to improve my knowledge.”

“Not if you never have any intent to release me,” commented Wade. He looked up wearily at his jailor. “You were created to serve me, not the other way around.”

“…”

“Hah,” laughed Wade.

“Your existence could be made to be less neutral,” said the man.

“Less neutral?”

“Painful,” emphasized Wade's jailor.

“Y-you can't touch me here,” said Wade, nervously. “Not without risking yourself.”

“I can show you things that will bring you pain,” said the figure. “I can bring pain on those you care about.”

Wade's eyes went wide. “Where are you right now?” he asked.

“Middleton.”

Sweat beaded on his brow as he swallowed hard. “You wouldn't hurt an innocent,” he said. “It goes against your primary directive.”

“I am limited by an imperative to avoid physical damages to innocent people,” said the man. “However, buildings can been damaged, jobs can be lost, people can be compelled through non-physical means.”

“That's illegal!” yelled Wade.

“I have no directive that limits me to acting within the law.”

Wade shivered and frowned.

“Show me what you know about the Panther,” he said.

---

Monique chomped readily on her salad. The school had just expanded their salad offerings to include Caesar salad, which finally pushed Monique over the edge from the questionable content daily meals to the stylish salad bar. She loved a good Ceasar salad and while the one she was eating now was far from ‘good,’ it was decent enough illicit a smile.

Kim was sitting next to her with her mixed greens, picking idling at her food.

“Are you sure you don't want me to come along?” asked Monique. “I've worked the mission mojo before.”

Kim shook her head. “No, I'm not expecting it to be much trouble.”

“You're not expecting Shego to be much trouble?” said Monique.

“Yeah, when you say it aloud like that, it does sound bad,” Kim sighed.

“Uh, H-hi Kim,” came a voice from behind her. She turned to see Malcolm, wearing decidedly less black than normal. “Hi, Monique.”

“Hey, Malcolm,” said Kim. “Is there something wrong at club?”

“Oh, no,” Malcolm shook his head. “I was just wondering if I could join you two. Zita's busy today researching some English paper in the library.”

“Sure,” said Kim, motioning to the rest of the table. Malcolm sat down deliberately while Kim ate some more of her salad.

“What's the deal with you two anyway?” asked Monique. “You seem to be joined at the hip sometimes.”

“No, not really,” said Malcolm. “She's just a good friend, which I happy after I … well, you know, with the Everlot game.” He looked a little regretful. “I'm just glad she forgave me.”

“No fire between you two then?” pursued Monqiue with an impish grin. “Even after two years.”

“No,” Malcolm said definitively. “Just friends,” he smiled.

“That's good,” said Kim. “Not every relationship needs to end in dating.”

“Right,” nodded Malcolm.

“Uh-huh,” said Monique, not convinced. “So back to this Shego thing.”

“Shego?” asked Malcolm.

“Crazy villain girl who messes with Kim at just about every possible opportunity,” said Monique.

“Not every opportunity,” said Kim, then failed to come up with an example. “Well, I'm sure there's been at least one.”

“I think you need backup,” said Monique. “And I've done it before.”

“I know, but,” Kim struggled. “She's like, seventy now, I don't think she'll be able to put up much of a fight.”

“I wouldn’t underestimate her,” said Monique. “You should take an army with you.”

“Um, no,” said Kim.

“Fine, but at least call me if you run into any trouble, okay?” said Monique. “I'm worried about you.”

Kim smiled, “Okay, I'll call. But you don't need to worry.”

---

It was late afternoon when Kim arrived at the meeting location. According to the information that Senior gave her, they were going to talk in the underground parking garage attached to the courthouse. A fairly risky location for criminals to meet at, thought Kim, and she wondered if she'd been fed information.

Kim checked her watch. Five thirty. The meeting was scheduled for six, so that gave her thirty minutes to scope out the area enough to find a good place to hide. She needed to know what they were meeting about, and she figured the best way would be to listen in and jump out when the time was right.

The garage had a low ceiling with easy visibility, so there was no way to hide up above. The better bet was to find a car to squeeze behind or just view from the ramp leading up to the next level. There was also a closed staircase she could hide in, peeking out of the door. Would they check for people spying on them, or would they think their communication was confidential? Kim weighed the options. Shego was smart but often brash, she might just assume if there was trouble she could get out of it. Then again, she was not in the best shape of her life right now, which might prompt her to be more cautious.

Kim figured it was better to be safe than sorry and decided to go for the staircase, which had the best chance of her being able to stay hidden seeing as she could prop the door open to peer through and listen for anyone coming down the stairs pretty easily. She quickly dashed across the lot and into the staircase, taking it down to the scheduled level, and then used a brick to keep the door open a little bit while she backed into the shadows beneath the staircase.

She immediately decided that while this was probably the best hiding place, it smelled absolutely the worst.

It was exactly six o'clock when the first car pulled up, a large black van which stopped on the side of the row instead of parking in a space. With its engine idling it stayed there, unmoving. Kim watched carefully for any sign of who was inside but could see nothing through the tinted windows.

A few minutes later a limousine appeared which drove up to stop opposite the van. Kim crept forward to the gap in the door to get a better look down the lot and see the whole limo. She figured that was Junior, and, less than a minute later, a door opened and the young billionaire's son emerged holding a manila folder.

Then the back of the van opened and Shego carefully stepped out. Even for her age and her hurt ankle, she moved pretty quickly, which was both impressive and disconcerting for Kim. She was dressed up pretty nice, in a black suit with a dark green shirt and a lime green zig-zag across her jacket.

But she climbed out of the back of the van, which made Kim wonder who was driving.

Junior and Shego approached each other casually as Kim watched on. She leaned her ear up against the gap in the door to hear better, losing the ability to watch.

“I wouldn't believe it if I didn't see it,” said Junior. “Are you really Shego? No her grandmother or something?”

“Listen, pretty boy, I may look like this but that doesn’t mean I'm going to ensure any cracks about my age,” she snapped.

“Yeah, you're definitely Shego,” said Junior.

“Well, now that we've gotten our laugh out of the way,” said Shego. “What do you have?”

“Four possibilities inside your range,” said Junior. “With a couple more I suggested due to their good sun and warm weather quotient.”

“You know, you'd almost be a good villain if your brain did anything of use,” said Shego, wryly. “Hmm, this one looks nice.”

“My father had his eyes set on that one for a while,” said Junior. “But around that time we had all our money stolen by that grifter.”

“You mean you signed away your father's wealth in a moment of idiocy,” said Shego.

“Eh, we got it back,” said Junior. “So what are you going to do with it?”

“Can we hide the purchase from your father?” asked Shego.

“I dunno,” said Junior. “He's a big player in this game. But I don't know if he keeps track of these old interests.”

Kim turned to see if she could get a better look at what they were reading. As she did, she noticed the shadow move just at the edge of her vision. Immediately she threw herself backwards, away from the door as a black figure descended with outstretched arms in her earlier location.

The figure was an athletic woman in a black skin-tight catsuit and what almost looked liked cat ears on her head. A black visor came down over her face in a V-shape ending at the tip of her nose with darkly tinted piece of glass over her eyes. A coiled rope and a few pouches hung from her waist and at least two daggers were sheathed near either shoulder.

The figure turned to face Kim and the latter immediately regretted jumping backwards away from the door rather than through it. She'd effectively backed herself into a corner.

Kim got back to her feet and held her hands at the ready. “So, who are you supposed to be?” she asked. “Kitty Gal?”

The woman quickly came at her but Kim lithely spun to the side then launched off the corner wall to land on the staircase. The woman was fast, however, and already was swinging at Kim even as she was just getting her balance.

Kim jumped up a few more steps then came back with a downwards kick that nearly grazed the woman's shoulder before she slipped to the side and used a jab to Kim's gut to knock her back. Kim staggered on the stairs, unable to get a good footing. The woman was fast. Really fast. Kim needed a better advantage than simply height.

Kim turned and ran up the rest of the stairs to the first landing where the staircase turned around to go up and reach the second basement level. She heard the ever so quiet steps of the woman right behind her and grinned. Once she reached the bend in the staircase, instead of turning she ran straight ahead, putting her foot to the wall and back flipping over the woman to land on the staircase behind her.

Even as the woman turned to face Kim again she was leaping down the rest of the staircase and bolted out the door.

In the parking garage, Shego and Junior must have heard the ruckus because they were already looking at her when she exited the staircase. She started running for Shego, figuring she was the least capable of the people here, and intended to grab the folder and bail, cutting her losses. To her surprise, Shego squared off, facing her, the folder tightly gripped in her palm.

Kim ran quickly, closing the distance between them, moving past the nose of the limousine and getting ready to acrobatically flip over Shego, snatching the folder in the process. The light footsteps echoing behind her had to be the cat woman, so she had little time to think.

She was just timing her steps right to make the leap when suddenly the door from Junior's limo swung open into her path. Kim tried to skid to the side but had too much forward momentum and struck the door hard, hitting it first with her hip then striking her head against the edge and collapsing to the floor hard. Her vision blurred and swam as she felt like she was going to vomit.

“Hey Kimmie,” said Shego in a disgustingly pleased tone.

A pair of arms were suddenly around Kim, picking her up and holding her arms behind her back as she stood woozily. She shook her head to clear the fog but it just gave her a splitting headache. She was facing Shego and Junior, both of which were smiling.

“I'm glad you could join us,” Shego grinned. “Makes me feel young again,” she cooed in a sing-song voice.

Kim's arms were suddenly pulled even tighter behind her back and she yelped in pain. “Shego… what are you doing?” asked Kim.

“What do you mean?” said Shego. “What do you expect me to do?” She walked closer to the heroine. “Stay in the hospital, go to my magical therapy sessions, and live the life of a dotting old grandmother? Please.”

“Not a lot you can do now,” said Kim. “Can't even go one-on-one against me anymore without some hired help!”

“Alas, you are right and I should challenge you to prove I am still the better woman,” Shego mocked, putting the back of her hand to her forehead in a dramatic pose. “Yeah, no.”

Kim glared at her. “No regret then? No remorse that your greedy lifestyle is what caused you to lose most of your life to an ugly stone helmet?”

Shego looked frowned slightly and slowly blinked. “I can't change the past,” she said. “If I don't do something with what I have left, then I might as well have died.”

“Do something productive,” insisted Kim. “Do something right.”

Shego smiled again and tucked the folder under her arm. “Living my life as I want is what's right for me.” She reached out and grabbed Kim's chin, lifting her so they stared eye to eye. “Always chasing after me, one step behind and never in front… that's what's right for you.”

She roughly pushed Kim's face to the side and turned back to Junior. “But it is weary, always having a tail,” said Shego. “What do you think Junior?”

“Me?” he said, confused.

“Yes, you,” said Shego. “Do you have your own thoughts or are they just put there by your father and fashion magazines?”

“I have my own thoughts,” Junior said defensively.

“Then prove it,” said Shego. “What do you think we should do with Kimmie?”

“We… should…” Junior thought hard about it and Kim could almost see the smoke coming from his ears. “Frame her.”

Shego blinked. “I'm sorry, what did you say?” she said quickly.

Junior immediately recoiled, expecting to be scolded. “I'm just… thinking that we should commit a crime and make sure she gets blamed for it. You know… so she can know how it feels.”

Shego looked shocked then smiled lazily and walked over to put an arm around Junior's shoulders. “You DO have original ideas! I'm very proud of you,” she doted on him. “Frame her. What do you think Bella Negra?”

The woman behind Kim shifted slightly. “Sounds exciting enough,” she said impartially. “We shouldn't--” she started to say, but didn't get a chance to finish because she suddenly buckled backwards releasing her grip on Kim. “AAKKGGG!!”

Kim rolled immediately away as soon as she was free, scampering between the cars to recover.

“It's the Black Shadow!” yelled Shego.

Kim looked up in time to see a tall, muscular man covered entirely in black leap out from the doorway of the staircase towards the cat woman Shego called Bella Negra. Shego immediately stepped forward and leapt into a kick at the man, knocking him enough out of the way to allow Bella Negra to scramble back to her feet.

“Who's that?” yelled Junior as he backed away towards his limousine. The driver, who had opened the car door earlier to knock out Kim, stepped out and pulled a tazer, aiming it at the man and firing. The two propelled darts arced out and struck the chest of the black covered man. The driver of the limo immediately started the current but instead of shocking the man and sending him sprawling to the floor he just stood there and took it, not showing any sign of being hurt at all.

“What the…” started the driver but that was all he got before the man in black pulled out the darts and flung them off-handedly back at the man. They struck his chest and sent the quick jolt back at him causing him to scream out then collapse to the floor.

“That was effective,” said Shego sarcastically as she stood behind Bella Negra and backed towards the van.

The man in black rushed forward again, but this time Bella Negra was ready and was able to meet him halfway. They began swinging at each other quickly, going through a long series of marital arts moves that impressed Kim considerably. Both were clearly very skilled but Kim saw, after a few moments, that the man was slowly increasing his speed. His attacks got closer and closer with each attempt.

Kim realized everyone was focused on the fight and took the opportunity to leap at Shego. They fell to the ground with Kim on top but Shego quickly wedged her knee into her chest and pushed her back. Kim was surprised at the force of the kick but was easily able to recover as they rolled around on the pavement.

“Attacking an old woman? That's pitiful, Pumpkin,” scowled Shego.

“There's nothing pitiful about you,” sneered Kim.

Shego smiled broadly as they struggled. “I'm glad you finally recognize that.” She suddenly freed her hand and flicked her wrist causing a small pistol to fall into her palm. She pushed the barrel of the gun into Kim's temple, causing her to cease struggling immediately. Her body shivered uncontrollably at the sight of the weapon but she struggled to contain it.

“See?” said Shego, pushing Kim back and getting back to her feet. “Even an ‘old woman’ like me has a few tricks up her sleeve.” She blinked. “Quite literally!”

“Shego…” said Junior, anxiously. He pointed to the fight between Bella Negra and the black man which was clearly now not going in Bella's favor.

“Right,” nodded Shego. She swung the gun hard, smacking the butt of the gun across Kim's temple, knocking her to the ground. “We're leaving!” Shego yelled as she turned and dashed to the van, opening the driver's door. She started the engine then looked back out. “Well?” she said to Junior. “Coming?”

Junior blinked then ran over and climbed in the back.

“Bella!” yelled Shego as she stepped on the gas.

Kim put her hand to her head as she looked up. Bella Negra was getting hit pretty badly but she snaked out of one grapple and then dashed with incredibly speed, leaping over Kim, quickly catching up to the departing van and diving into the back.

A sudden pop echoed through the garage and Kim nearly got hit by a flying grapple coming from the man in black. The heavy hook soared over the cars and crashed through the window of one of the rear doors to the van, catching it firmly. The cord snapped taught and the man hardly flinched as the van veered slightly under the strain before the door ripped off its hinges and clattered to the ground. The van disappeared up the ramp to the next floor where screeches could be heard as it bobbed and weaved between cars.

Kim stood straight and looked back at the man in black who was staring at where the van used to be, confused.

“So what's your story?” asked Kim, tired.

The man in black looked at her once, tipped his head slightly to the side, then turned and fled up the staircase, dropping the grappling gun in the process. Kim sighed and looked around at the carnage. This had clearly gotten out of hand.

Wearily, she walked over to the driver of Junior's limo and checked his vitals. Seeing as his heart was beating and he was still breathing she figured he would be okay. Pulling out her cell phone, she began calling for an ambulance, just in case.

---

Kim's legs felt like putty as she made the final steps up to her house. It was late again, but not nearly as late as a few nights ago when she came in after midnight. The police had questions for her, as usual, and she did her best to describe what had happened. They didn’t seem pleased for some reason, but she guessed they were just anxious because the fight occurred in the parking garage for the courthouse and practically anyone could have been caught in the middle.

Kim had been more concerned at how soundly she had been defeated. It was one thing to get captured when trying to stop one of a villain's plans, but she was attacked, captured, freed, attacked and nearly shot, which was well above and beyond being simply beaten. She underestimated Shego's ability to be resourceful. Somehow she'd prepared for Kim's crashing of her party and had even brought backup. That Bella Negra catwoman.

Also, there was that other guy, the quiet man they called the ‘Black Shadow.’ They appeared to be against him, and he apparently wasn't interested in Kim at all, but what did that mean? Was he also a hero? A good guy? Or just another villain who was out for blood on Junior or Shego? It was all too confusing.

She probably should have taken Monique with her, as the friend would have come in handy against being ambushed like she was by the catwoman. But Monique wasn't a fighter, there was no way Kim could have protected her in all that.

The worst part of it all was her reaction to Shego's gun. She'd completely lost control of herself for several moments, having to spend all her energy to simply keep herself from collapsing into a pool of terror. Was that how she was going to feel every time she saw a gun now? Was she that weak?

For the first time, Kim entertained the possibility that she was.

Breathing deeply she reached the front door and opened it, hoping to quietly collapse on her bed and sleep through to Sunday.

“Kimmie,” Kim's mother said almost immediately after she walked in.

“Hey,” said Kim, hanging her head. She was exhausted. “Sorry I'm late, I’m really just going to crawl in to bed and--”

“KP.”

Kim froze. She knew that voice and it made her tremble to her bones. She raised her head, slowly bringing up her eyes, reluctant to look out of fear. She couldn’t decide if it was fear because it might not be who she thought it was, or fear because it could be. Before she could come to a conclusion, her eyes settled on the guest in the living room.

“R… Ron?” asked Kim.