Shego thought she had prepared herself for this. She was wrong. Kim’s words, and her hateful glare… hateful, cut like a knife. She showed no outward sign, but inwardly, something died.
Ron and Shego sat there for awhile in silence.
Eventually, Ron got out of the car, and opened Shego’s door. “C’mon, Shego. Let’s go inside. I’ll look for her later.” He sounded tired. “Her Dad’s death was… hard for her. She’ll come around. Just give her awhile.” Time enough to realize that you just told her how much you love her. Do you even know you said it?
Shego meekly complied.
Ron put his arm around the emaciated girl’s waist as she stumbled over the curb, towards the apartment door. The novelty of the situation made them both pause. Ron sighed, “You… didn’t really kill her dad… or Rufus… I mean, not… You mean Lee did, right?”
“I was responsible for it. I had been warned. I rebelled. You… and she… paid for it”, she replied. It was a well-practiced litany of guilt. Shego hardly even heard herself say it. She’d heard it in her mind so, so many times.
“And Stop – uh, Ron… I know you mean well, in your boy-scout way, but…”, Shego turned and faced him directly, “Ron, I’m… afraid. You… and her… are going to pay for this, too. He’ll know about it. I don’t know how…” Her eyes were those of a naughty child, about to be spanked by her teacher, hoping someone can find to keep the inevitable from happening.
The look caught Ron off-guard. This was a side of Shego he’d have never believed existed. Asking for help. Beseeching.What could he say? Looking into her still beautiful, if sad, eyes, he searched his heart for an answer. It was a technique he’d been taught… by someone… at someplace… He “thought” without words, but rather with feelings.
And into Ron’s mind, a feeling did appear, surprising, but unmistakably true. There are four of you, now…
“Shego… We…”, Ron paused, as if the meaning of the word ‘we’ had just occurred to him, “We –the, uh, three of us – we will get through this. But first we have to take care of you. Now c’mon.”
Ron said it with such – conviction, sincerity… honesty – that the words echoed in Shego’s mind over and over. We, the three of us,she thought. The three of us… we… The words felt unfamiliar, strange. Us. Shego had always been “I”, and “me”, and “my”. How odd to think in terms of “us” and “we”. Our.
Ron began slowly walking toward the door again, arm still around Shego’s waist to help her along. “I… don’t think… I don’t think you’re as responsible for everything as you think” he said quietly, thoughtfully. “I think, maybe, that’s just what someone wants you to believe…”
Ron was still trying to figure out where in the hell his thoughts and feelings, were coming from. Why did he think that? Where did the feeling come from? And why, why, why was he so sure?