Kim Possible Rose

**Disclaimer:** Disney still owns everything. Unfortunately. The only thing I own was the ideas expressed in this fiction and the character Molly from October 31st.

**Author's Notes:** A fluffy oneshot I thought up randomly late at night. Takes place after the Take II series.

I thank, once again, my trustworthy beta, Rob. Thanks and many peace signs to ya.

So, enjoy the story!

**Rose**

_by 3Vad127_

Kimberly Anne Stoppable rode quickly through the forest, her bright red hair whipping about her face. She seemed to be going so fast, yet she wasn't scared. Every tree seemed to slow down at her approach; there was no chance for an accident. In front of her, the massive trunks seemed almost to stop as she dodged her mount around them. Behind and beside her, she saw that the trees whipped by her at an incredible pace. She chuckled at them, almost as if challenging them to try something. Something interesting to try and stop her. Nothing could.

Kim held tighter to her mount: a giant white tiger, as big as a horse. She dug her hands into its soft, white mane and let out a laugh. No fear. No panic. Not that she would've, anyway; she was Kim Stoppable. She could do anything.

But at this particular place, there was no such thing as "fear." That's why she was doing what she was doing: riding through the forest on a giant white tiger. Because she had no fear.

She and her mount bolted through the forest at an incredible pace, never once gasping for breath or slowing down the tiniest bit. They dodged the multi-colored trees; each one was a symbol of majestic beauty. If Kim dismounted, she doubted she could even put her arms one fourth of the way around the smallest trunk; that's how truly massive they were. And breathtaking.

Soon, Kim and the tiger approached the edge of the trees. She tugged gently on its mane, signaling it to slow down. The big cat quickly reduced its speed, coming to a slow jog as it walked out of the forest. Kim sighed; she _loved_ riding. Especially through the forest. Sometimes, when she lost herself in her ride, her mind would go back to… _him_. She giggled like a schoolgirl. No pain, no hurt at the fond memories she held or the separation from her love. She knew they would meet again. Sometime soon.

She sighed and ran a hand through its soft, striped fur. The tiger purred like a housecat. Kim dismounted and rubbed the back of the animal. The giant cat arched its back and rolled over, looking at her with large, luminescent emerald eyes. Kim laughed again.

"OK; I guess you deserved it." She scratched its stomach and buried her face in him, sighing contentedly. What she wouldn't give…

"Excuse me, Miss?" A pleasant male voice wafted from behind her. Kim looked up to see a sharp-looking man standing in front of her. His dark blonde hair shagged down over his ears, and his soft brown eyes looked over her body. Not in lust, but a simple appreciation for her.

His baggy clothes were simple, yet defined; and just as her dress was a deep blue, so was his shirt. He wore a gray, cotton vest and pants, which completed his outfit. No one wore shoes in this realm; they weren't necessary and only took away from the pleasantly soft feel of the grass underfoot.

Kimberly sat on her feet, drawing a strand of red hair back behind her ear. "Yes?" Her tone was pleasant, though a tad inquiring.

The young man pulled his hands from behind his back and presented her with a deep red rose, the likes of which she had never seen before.

Kim gasped and gently took the rose from him. She held it and traced her finger along the feather-soft petals. The dark red flower was stunningly beautiful; almost so much so that she didn't want to take her eyes off of it.

"For you," the gentleman said. "A beautiful rose for a beautiful young lady."

Kim smiled and met the soft brown eyes of the man in front of her. "Thank you," she said quietly. She positioned the flower carefully above her ear and stood up.

The blonde man smiled back, then suddenly looked quite shy. He traced a pattern in the grass with his bare toe and examined the ground intently.

"Would you… um… would you like to… do something sometime?" he said softly. Still, he stared at the ground.

Kim knew what he was thinking; she couldn't do that. She took his chin in her hand and lifted it up to look him in the eye. "Thank you very much for the rose," she said, "but I belong to someone else."

The gentleman looked ashamed. "Oh, I… I'm sorry. I didn't know…" He gazed at Kimberly's forehead, then said, "You don't have the mark."

_Oh, right; the mark._ In this world, married women held a small circle tattoo on their forehead; while betrothed women had a crescent, and single women had no mark.

Now it was the redhead's turn to gaze at the ground. "Yes," she said softly, "but my husband isn't here yet." She smiled fondly and looked at the grass… no, _through_ the grass and focused on something far away. To Kim, the soft, green grass seemed to melt away. She could easily now look through it like a pane of glass, and below, she saw many reenactments of very familiar events: the first day of pre-K, her sixteenth birthday, junior Prom, various perilous missions with Ron, her wedding day, Rufus's funeral… But through it all, one thing stayed the same: Ronald Dean Stoppable was always right there beside her.

He had waited for her on earth; she would wait for him in Heaven.

"Oh." The man's pleasant voice snapped her out of her daydreams. "I understand." He hung his head and turned away.

Kim caught his arm and looked him in the eye. "Thank you again," she said. "For everything." She dropped his arm and smiled.

He tipped his head, his blond hair swishing over his ears. "You're welcome." Once again he turned to go, but swiveled to look at her one more time. "Happy birthday, Kim," he said quietly. He grinned, and then in a moment, he was gone.

- Ø -

A deep red rose drifted slowly through the air and gently came to rest on a small mound of grass. The vibrant flower cast a sharp contrast with the deadened, brown background. It was winter, and the only thing that looked alive in this dismal world was the rose.

A stooped, old man stood up from where he had dropped the rose on the grave. He smiled fondly, the cold winter air rustling his snow white crown. His soft, brown eyes held a great deal of sorrow, but this was overpowered by a large amount of love and laughter. The gentleman held a large assortment of freckles splattered across his cheeks, yet years of living and pain and good times had softened them, so much so that they were hardly visible.

He shivered, pulling his gray, scratchy coat closer to himself. It had been exactly two years since she had died; she had passed quietly in her sleep, just like she had wanted. He woke up one day and she… was gone. He was glad that she went without pain.

His wife, his soulmate, his paragon had died on her birthday. Why could Life throw out such cruel irony?

But she went without feeling a thing. He was glad for _that_ much, at least. And he was getting old; he would meet her soon.

The old man clutched his cane and leaned on it a little farther. Oh, what a day that would be. He gave a grim, yet satisfied, smile.

He moved a little closer to the grave and read the gravestone for what seemed like the millionth time.

_Kimberly Anne Possible Stoppable_

_1989 – 2057_

_Wife, mother, grandmother, and famous hero; loved and respected by all who knew her. May she rest in peace and be reunited with her loved ones in Glory._

That was all it said. That's all it needed to say. Ronald Dean Stoppable knew that's what she would've wanted: a modest gravestone and a sentimental yet brief testimony of her life on this earth. So that's what they gave her. "They" being himself and his… _their_ children. Not to mention Ron's little sister, Molly.

He chuckled lightly to himself. My, how she had grown over the years—from being a cute little toddler to a full-grown, beautiful young woman, and finally a wise, old senior citizen much like himself. But it wasn't only Molly that had changed. His and Kim's children had grown, too. Why, he remembered when—

"Hey, Dad!" A bright, cheery voice interrupted his thoughts. Ron turned his head and saw his son walking towards him, two small children in tow. The young man had blonde hair with a shade of red right above his ears. His emerald green eyes shown brightly through small strands of hair tickling his forehead, and his eyebrows were arched and well-formed. His face had a light assortment of freckles—much like his father—and his ears looked a little too large for his face.

The young man grinned and walked forward, handing off his children to their grandfather. "I thought you'd be here," he said.

Ron bent down as well as his joints would allow and looked two of his three grandchildren in the eyes. "And how are two of my favorite ten-year-olds?" he said, his brown eyes shining. The red-headed twins giggled and hugged Ron around his neck.

He put his arms around them and attempted to lift them. "_Oof_!" he said. "I think you two are getting too heavy for me to pick you up anymore."

They giggled again, their bright blue eyes dancing with laughter. Ron chuckled and got back up with the aid of his cane—and his son. "Oh, thank you, Tyler," he said. "I guess I'm getting kinda old." He laughed lightly.

Tyler Deleano Stoppable laughed as well. "Always a pleasure to help out."

"So, where's Mel?" Ron referred to Tyler's wife, Melissa, a beautiful young blue-eyed woman from California.

"Oh, she had to stay at home; she caught a bad cold."

"That's too bad."

"Yeah. Sure was." Tyler traced the toe of his shoe in the dead grass. He coughed, then looked away uncomfortably. He and his dad had a great relationship; it's just that when it came to sensitive subjects—such as his mother's death—he was a little… shaky. Just being here, alone, with his father… only a few years after his mother had died, well, he didn't really know what to do. Sure, he had lost a mother, but his father had lost a soulmate. It had to be devastating.

Ron looked at him and smiled comfortably, almost as though he had read his son's discouraged thoughts. He rested a reassuring hand on the shoulder of his progeny and sighed.

"I wish she was here almost as much as you do, Son," Ron said softly, "but it was her time. To keep her on this earth any longer—for any reason—would've been unfair."

Tyler examined the ground. He knew his dad was right; he still couldn't help but feel like his mother—his wonderful, spirited, loving mother—had gone a little early and had left behind her love.

But deep down he knew it wasn't true. They would meet again, and they would both be happy. Until then, he supposed—

"Tyler! Hey, Tyler!" A loud, female voice broke through his thoughts. He turned his head and glanced at the new arrival. A woman his age bounced toward him, her long blonde hair swishing gracefully around her waist. Her cocoa eyes and small ears set off her long face shape, creating the image of a beautiful yet spirited woman.

Tyler grinned as he thought of how opposite he and his twin sister were. He was brave and ready, whereas she was afraid of most everything. He was shy and terrible with people, when his sister was courageous with others and socially apt. He was extremely driving and on time; his sister was a slacker and tended to procrastinate. He was—once he got to know someone—very loyal; sometimes, his twin could be a bit shallow and superficial, but she always came through in the end.

But, Tyler Stoppable knew, she was a very special person to him and his dad.

So he offered a shy grin. "Hey, Skye," he said softly. "How's it going?"

She shrugged. "Oh, OK, I guess," she said. "The hubby's OK, Cindy's OK, so I suppose I am, too." She flashed a toothy smile, then glanced over at her dad. "What about you?"

"What about me?" Ron asked. "I'm fine. I just came to wish Kim—"

"Oh, I've _finally_ found you guys!" A new voice broke through the conversation for a third time.

Ron recognized the voice immediately. "Molly! My, what took you so long?"

The blind woman smiled, her eyes gazing off into the distance. "Well, I thought this is where you'd be. I just had trouble getting here. My driver got a little lost." She cocked her head in the direction of her car parked on the road a few yards away.

"We're glad you could make it." Tyler and Skylar hugged Molly, then Tyler's twins each did the same.

When Ron's turn came, she hung on a little longer than normal. "So, how's my favorite big brother?"

The old man sighed contentedly. "I don't have much to complain about, Mol," he said. "What about you?"

Her bright blue eyes, though covered with a thin film, still twinkled with mirth. "Old age is doing me good," she said. "I get 40 percent off every meal with my senior discount!" Everyone laughed.

As soon as the chuckling died down, Tyler let out a sigh. "Well, today is a special day for us all," he said, looking around at the assortment of faces before him. He could see a collective nod going around the circle. "And I think we should celebrate!" he said enthusiastically. "Who's up for some Bueno Nacho to kick-start this fiésta?" The group laughed and moved towards their parked vehicles, chattering with one another and talking about party plans.

Ron, however, simply smiled and stood where he was, leaning lightly against his cane.

Skylar noticed he wasn't moving and looked back at him, concerned. "Aren't you coming, Dad?" she said.

"Yeah, Skye; but just give me a minute alone." He gazed wistfully at the simple gravestone beside him.

She shrugged. "OK. Catch up with us later, all right? You know where we'll be."

Ron nodded and turned his attention back to the marker. He needed a moment to collect himself before he could celebrate.

He watched his progeny—plus his sister—fade off into the distance, all clambering into their vehicles. When he saw them drive off, he turned towards his wife's grave marker. He knelt down and gently held the rose he had deposited earlier, noticing its exquisite beauty. He smiled fondly.

"A beautiful rose for a beautiful young lady," he said quietly. He let the flower fall off of his fingers and drop onto the grave for a second time.

And for a while, all he did was stand there. The chilling winter wind nipped at his ears and prompted him to pull his coat tighter around him. Other than that, he moved not an inch. Ron thought about a lot of things in those fleeting moments—or was it hours? He thought of memories, of the present, and of what he would behold in the future.

Smiling once again, he gripped his cane tighter. He was satisfied; he'd better go.

He turned away to leave, but promptly swiveled to look at her grave one more time. "Happy birthday, KP," he said, grinning. And then he was gone.

- Ø -

The bright red rose rested peacefully on the small mound of grass and dirt. It was the dead of winter, and the only thing alive on the small knoll where the grave was located was the flower. A birthday present from two friends, this symbol of affection would reside forever in the heart of Kimberly Anne Stoppable.

Although soon spring would come, and by then the flower would be long gone. But it is the thought and idea that still resides in that place on the knoll; the thing that keeps it sacred.

"_Thank you_," the wind will whisper. "_Thank you for everything_."


End file.

Kim Possible, Hurt-Comfort, Romance