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?
Ron led Shego to a chair at the kitchen(ette) table. She sank into it. I’m so tired, she thought.
“First order of business: food”, Ron said, and began rummaging through the fridge. “Ah! cheese. Always a good choice!” The refridgerator seemed to have the magical ability to make him feel like his old self again. Huh? Is there a “new self”? he wondered.
Shego frowned. She didn’t feel like eating. In fact, she’d never felt less like eating in her entire life, which, considering, meant she really didn’t feel like eating now. But she was too tired, too abject, too depressed, to argue about it.
She looked around. It didn’t take long – there was nothing to see. Not a picture on the wall, a book in the shelf… nothing but rental furniture and fluorescent ceiling lights.
“So… a little young for your own apartment, aren’t you?”, she said, just to say something, anything, to take her mind off… things.
“It belongs to the brother of a friend of mine” Ron answered, filling a saucepan with water. “Works offshore, a month at a time. He let’s us…” Goddammit, Ron! Be careful what you say! “uh, let’s us use it when he’s working.”
So, Kim and Ron’s little love-nest, then, Shego thought. It was like a slap in the face after being beaten to within an inch of your life. Not much left to hurt. Still does, though.
“Kind of plain.” The smell of hot butter began to fill the room. “Ron, I really don’t want anything.” Shego waited for the nausea she was sure would begin soon.
Ron had his head buried in the spice cabinet. “Fine. Think of it as medicine, then. But you are going to eat.” He decided it might be better not to mention why he felt it was so important. It was going to be hard enough to get Shego to do something she didn’t want to. Maybe impossible. She was still a proud woman, even now. He could feel that. He wished he hadn’t said that last sentence out loud. Confrontation was not going to help. Think before you speak, you buffoon!
But Shego didn’t feel the need to fight. If she didn’t want to eat, she wouldn’t. Simple fact, no need to argue. She did have to admit, though, as Ron stirred basil and thyme into the smoking butter in the skillet… it was starting to smell pretty good in there. Maybe I’ll just pick. Don’t want to give him the satisfaction, after all. Bad enough I’m calling him “Ron” now…Then she mentally kicked herself, After all this, you think offood?
Shego’s thoughts returned to Kim. “Um, don’t you think you ought to go after her now?”
“Can’t. Sautee’ waits for no man. Why don’t you go?” Ron said, casually.
She looked over at him. What’s he up to?Then she corrected her thoughts, Stoppable? “Up to” something? I don’t think so.She slowly, exhaustedly, got to her feet, went to the front door, and opened it.
To find Kim on the other side, staring at her with an expression that was hard to make out. Serious but soft, questioning but not sure of the question. They stared into each other’s eyes for several moments, Shego too surprised to do anything else, and Kim… something was on her mind…
“Jinn…” Kim said.
Shego waited, not sure how to respond, or if one was expected.
“… makes things happen to me…” she continued, as if working on an algebra word-problem.
“… in order to punish you?”
Shego opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She nodded, still locked in Kim’s gaze.
A tear ran down Kim’s cheek, but she did not blush.
And for the second time in as many hours, the two girls cried in each other’s arms.
Ron, who had heard everything, looked up to the ceiling, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. Boo-yahhhhh…