Kim Possible 1. Prologue

**_STANDARD DISCLAIMER:_******_The characters of Kim Possible, Dr. James Timothy Possible, Dr. Anne Possible, Jim and Tim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Wade Load, Steve Barkin, Bonnie Rockwaller, Monique, Tara, Felix Renton, Rufus the Naked Mole Rat, Drew "Dr. Drakken" Lipsky, Shego, Dr. Dementor, Lord Montgomery "Monkey Fist" Fiske, Señor Senior Senior, Señor Senior Junior, Dr. Betty Director, Special Agent Will Du, Global Justice and any and all other minor characters/locations from the television series _Kim Possible_ are the sole property of the Walt Disney Corporation, and are used herein without permission or contest to their ownership for the sole purpose of personal, non-profit entertainment. Any and all minor characters that have not appeared in the television series, and this storyline, are the sole creation and property of the author and may not be reproduced without prior consent (if you want to post it, just ask)._

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A/N: I'm back! It's been a long time coming, but finally we have the beginning of a brand-new, multi-chapter story in my _TAY_ universe. Not much to say just yet concerning this story, other than I hope those that read this enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it; it's definitely a labor of love, no question about that. For those that are stumbling on this story and haven't yet read _TAY,_ I would highly recommend stopping here and reading it first; there will be references in this story that might not make sense without having read it.  
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_I would also like to take this opportunity to thank all those that have read, reviewed and/or favorited _TAY_ ever since I posted the last chapter and put it to bed. You are one of the main reasons that I was able to finish that story when so many others have died and I greatly appreciate each and every one of you taking the time to let me know you enjoyed my work._

_On that note, I give you the prologue of _Summer of Reckoning. _Enjoy!  
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_**SUMMER OF RECKONING**_

_**PROLOGUE**_

"I know this is all well-documented, but I still have a hard time believing that anybody can be completely healed from a gunshot wound in a week," the physician said as he signed the insurance forms with a wry grin.

"What can I say? I'm unique," Kate Gogh replied as she affixed her own signature. "Anything else I need to sign before I leave?"

"That should be everything we need, Miss Gogh," the nurse at the administration desk said with a smile. "We'll contact you if we've forgotten anything, but I'm pretty sure everything's taken care of."

"Perfect," the former villainess said as she picked up her purse. "Don't take this personally, but I really hope we don't do this again anytime soon."

"Trust me, I know exactly what you mean," the doctor chuckled as the nurse sorted away the last of the paperwork. "Here's your copy; have a good day, Miss Gogh."

"Any day I get to leave the hospital without shackles and ceramic mittens is a good day," she quipped as she turned and strode away from the desk, not bothering to acknowledge the confused expression on their faces at her statement.

She'd barely made it ten feet from the desk, however, when a familiar face turned the corner; a broad smile crossing the willowy redhead's features when she saw the reformed mercenary. "Kimmie said you were in for a follow-up today," she said. "How'd it go?"

"Clean bill of health from the attending surgeon right here," Kate replied, her expression mirroring the neurosurgeon's as she held up the forms.

"Kim will be glad to know it," Anne Possible said as she fell into step beside her daughter's former nemesis. "Listen, if you're not in any rush to go anywhere, I've got a few minutes; why don't we go sit and talk in the coffee shop?"

Kate shrugged indifferently. "Sure; I've got nowhere to be right away," she replied as they crossed the lobby to the small coffee shop that occupied a corner. They went to the counter and ordered their beverages—a latte for Kate and a dark Colombian roast for Anne—and took a table next to the windows.

Once they were comfortable, the redheaded neurosurgeon picked up the conversation again. "So do you have any plans on what you're gonna do now that you're free and clear?" she asked as she removed the lid from her Styrofoam cup.

"Well, I'm already working on getting a car and place of my own," Kate replied after sampling her latte. "No friggin' way I'm gonna depend on Global Justice any longer than I have to. "

"Anything planned beyond that yet?"

"Well, once I get settled in a bit, I'm probably just gonna take a little time and relax," the former villainess said, staring into her cup, "use that downtime to think about how I want to make an honest living."

"Considering how tumultuous the last week or two have been for you, I can't say I blame you a whole lot."

Kate nodded with a wry grin, but didn't respond immediately to Anne's statement; opting instead to take a long drink of the frothy beverage in front of her. Finally, after a few moments of quiet reflection, she spoke in a tentative voice. "Why does everybody trust me all of a sudden?"

"Sorry?" Anne said, leaning closer to the young woman in front of her.

"I don't understand why, after everything I've done and all the people I've hurt—Kim especially—that, all of a sudden, everybody trusts me and believes that I really do want to go straight," the former villainess replied with a sigh. "I mean, over the past few years I haven't exactly done anything to endear myself to anybody; but when I talked to Kim at her graduation and told her I wanted to go straight, she believed me right from the start, based solely on my word. What did I ever do to make her—or anybody else for that matter—believe that my word was worth anything?"

Kim's mother took a moment to absorb what her daughter's former foe and current friend had just said before attempting to respond. "I can't say for sure what made everybody believe you at first—personally, I was satisfied that Kim trusted you—but over the last few days you've proven your intentions beyond any shadow of a doubt; the way you helped Kim and Ron catch Drakken without hesitation just reinforced that.

"Kim told me about the discussion you two had the day after she and Ron went to Lowerton," the neurosurgeon continued, shifting in her seat, "and the reasons you gave her for getting into villainy in the first place. I can't exactly say I would agree with your reasoning, but I do understand it… and the reasons you decided the time was right to get out.

"I'm a neurosurgeon, not a psychologist, Kate, so keep that in mind when I say what I'm going to say next: I think that, after having experienced having a real friend in Kim when you were under the influence of that Reverse Polarizer or whatever it was called, your subconscious started questioning your decision to adopt a life of crime. Over time, those thoughts bled into your conscious mind and made you realize that you could probably have a better—and happier—life on the level. I think Kim saw that, too, which is why she chose to believe you and believe _in_ you. I also think that's how _and_ why you were able to convince everybody before you proved yourself."

Kate nodded with a wan smile on her face as she traced the rim of her cup with her finger. "I'm just glad this all worked out in the end," she finally said, barely above a whisper. "It took getting shot again, but that's a small price to pay if it means a second chance."

"If anybody ever expresses any more doubt about your sincerity, that statement right there should prove your intentions once and for all," Anne said, gripping Kate's hand and squeezing it encouragingly. "Anybody that's willing to take a potentially lethal gunshot wound to prove their intentions is obviously sincere."

"One would think so, anyway," Kate said with a wry chuckle. Looking at her watch, the mint-skinned woman slipped out of her seat. "I should probably get going; I told Kim I'd meet up with her when she got off work and we'd hang out for a bit."

Anne nodded knowingly. "Yeah, that's probably a good thing; with school out and no missions on the horizon, Kimmie gets kinda bored when she's off and Ron's working."

"I bet," the raven-haired vixen laughed as she drained her coffee cup and picked up her purse again. "Listen, sorry I had to dump on you there; guess it was on my chest and I had to get it out."

"Kate, everybody needs somebody to talk to once in awhile," the neurosurgeon replied, placing a comforting hand on the younger woman's shoulder, "and while it's great that you and Kim are getting closer and have put your past behind you, sometimes you need to talk to somebody that's a little more removed… like your best friend's mother."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," the reformed mercenary said with a grateful smile. "Thanks for listening, Doc."

"Anytime," Anne replied, "and… Kate?"

"Yeah…?"

"If Ron can call me Anne, then so can you," the willowy redhead said with a warm grin before turning to walk away, leaving the younger woman with that last thought.

Kate watched the as the older woman's form receded, blinking a couple of times as the redhead's last statement sunk in. Finally, with a bemused smirk, the jade-hued woman strode out of the hospital, dropping her empty cup in a trash can on her way by.

* * *

Half an hour later found the former villainess strolling nonchalantly through the entrance to Club Banana, where she immediately spied Kim carrying on an animated conversation with a customer as she rang up the younger teen's purchases. Rather than interrupt, Kate wandered through the store and browsed some of the merchandise while she waited for Kim to finish.

"Hey Kate," the redhead said as she approached the older woman, "how you feeling today?"

"Better, now that I'm done with that damned hospital," Kate replied dryly as they exited the retailer. "I swear that place sucks the life out of anybody that's in there for any amount of time."

"I don't know about that; they're in the business of _saving_ lives, not draining them."

"If you say so," Kate said dubiously as they pushed through the doors to the parking lot.

Chuckling at her friend's obvious disdain for the medic al profession, Kim just shook her head as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "So what did you want to do? I've got nothing set in stone," she said as she started digging in her purse for her keys.

"Actually, I do have an idea; let's take my car and leave yours here."

"Makes sense, I guess," Kim said as she dropped her keys back into her purse and followed her former nemesis to her borrowed Crown Victoria—conveniently parked beside the teen heroine's outlandishly-painted and heavily-modified Roth SL Coupe. Kim detoured long enough to put her purse in the trunk of the Sloth before climbing into the front passenger seat of the unmarked government car. "So where are we going?"

"Shopping," the raven-haired vixen replied with a smirk as she started the big Ford's V8 engine.

"For what?"

"That, you'll just have to wait and see."

"But I hate surprises," Kim lamented, crossing her arms over her chest. "Can't you at least give me a hint?"

"Not telling and your Puppy-Dog Pout won't change my mind," Kate said as she adjusted her sunglasses over her eyes. "You're just gonna have to wait."

"Fine," the redhead huffed melodramatically as she slouched in her seat and stared forward. Precisely two minutes later, her composure broke in the form of a loud snort as she started laughing. "Apparently trying to be the snotty brat isn't my forte," she giggled.

"Wasn't buying it for a second," Kate replied as she navigated the light mid-afternoon traffic. "'Bratty' is not a word I would use to describe you in any way, shape or form; it doesn't fit you at all."

"It doesn't, but I still don't like surprises."

"Doesn't matter anymore; we're here," Kate replied as she steered the sedan into the parking lot of the Middleton Dodge dealership.

"What're we doing here?"

"I told you, we're going shopping," the mint-skinned woman replied as she parked the car and shut it off. "You didn't think I was gonna keep driving this grocery-getter forever, did you?"

"Well, no; but I kinda figured you for a BMW or Audi type."

Kate laughed derisively as they climbed out of the car. "Not even close," she replied, "if there's one thing I got from my dad, it's a love of American muscle cars and all things Mopar."

"Sounds to me like you'd get along great with Motor Ed," Kim jibed as they walked along the rows of new cars.

"Don't even go there, Princess," the older woman snarled in a Shego-like fashion. "I stand a better chance of dating Steve Barkin again."

"Enough said," Kim said with a nod as she looked around the lot. "So did you have anything in particular in mind, or are you just looking to see what they have to offer?"

"Oh, I've already got an idea, but I want to try one out first to see if it's as good as I think it is," Kate replied as she watched a salesman start jogging in their direction.

"Good afternoon, ladies," the balding, middle-aged man said as he tried his best to not leer at the two athletically-gorgeous young women before him, "can I help you find anything in particular?"

"Yeah, I'd like to take that Charger R/T for a test drive," Kate replied, pointing at the black sedan in question.

"An excellent choice," the salesman enthused, clapping his hands together. "All I'll need is your driver's license for insurance purposes and we can get started."

Kate withdrew the requested piece of identification from her purse and handed it to the salesman, moving her sunglasses to the top of her head at the same time. "There ya go," she said with a sultry grin and a wink, much to Kim's amusement.

"I think you just made his day," the redhead quipped as she watched the salesman return to the showroom, glancing over his shoulder about every third step.

"I think we both did," the older woman retorted, casting a glance at her former foe. Both were dressed in fashions that accentuated their lean, toned physiques—a teal, form-fitting tank top and Capri pants on Kate and a knee-length halter-style sundress with a floral print on Kim. "Selling Dodges means you've pretty much resigned yourself to the minivan and pickup crowd; we're probably the first single women under forty-five to come car shopping here in six months."

"Never thought of it that way," Kim said as she pondered the former villainess' logic, "but you do have a point… doesn't exactly explain why you had to give the poor man a mind screw, though."

"Oh, come on; don't tell me you've never used your feminine wiles to reduce a guy to a puddle of goo on the floor."

"Only when it works to my advantage."

"Like getting a couple of grand knocked off the sticker price?"

"More like escaping a fortified black-marketer's stronghold," the teen heroine replied with a shudder as she recalled her escape from the Phoenix Corporation. Kate noticed the younger woman's reaction and decided to let the matter drop for the time being, but made a mental note to talk to her about it later.

Presently the salesman returned with the mint-skinned woman's driver's license and the keys to the Charger. "Everything's in order, Miss Gogh; whenever you're ready," he said with a toothy grin as he handed the items to her.

Kate accepted the keys and identification, placing the latter back in her purse before returning her sunglasses to her face. "Alright; let's do this," she said with a smirk that would've made her old persona proud. Turning her attention back to the salesman, she flashed him another winning smile. "Don't worry; we'll bring it back the way we found it," she said saccharinely, approaching the gleaming automobile with a provocative sway in her hips.

"O… kay," the salesman mumbled, almost incoherently.

"You may have gone straight, but you're still evil, Kate," Kim said with a giggle as the older woman started the car, the V8 engine under the hood rumbling to life.

"Yeah, I am," the former villainess agreed with another smirk as she threw the car in gear and pulled out of the parking lot, "but it's fun."

Shaking her head and chuckling softly, the high-school grad settled herself into her seat and adjusted the stylish sunglasses she wore as Kate pressed the Charger's accelerator toward the floor, feeding fuel to the big engine and, by virtue, power to the rear wheels. With expert precision, the malachite vixen maneuvered the sedan onto the highway and was soon cruising in the northbound passing lane at close to seventy-five miles per hour. "You weren't kidding when you said 'test drive,' were you?" the younger woman commented.

"Hell, no; I wanna see what this jalopy can do before I sign anything," Kate replied as her foot approached the floorboard, coaxing another five miles per hour from the Hemi powerplant.

So what's the verdict?"

Kate rested her hand longingly on the gearshift mounted in the center console. "Aside from the fact I wish it was a five-speed, I love it," she replied with a sigh. "I gotta admit, though; for an automatic, it handles and performs like a dream."

"It is a gorgeous car," Kim agreed with a nod.

"You like it… I like it… sounds like a unanimous decision to me," the former villainess said as she gently slowed the car and took the Upperton exit to turn around. "Wouldn't you say?"

Kim met her friend's inquiring gaze with a nod of agreement. "I would," she replied simply.

"I guess all that's left now is the paperwork… also known as 'Two Hours of My Life I'll Never Get Back'," Kate said as she pulled back onto the highway southbound. "Unless, of course, you have somewhere you need to be; I can always come back and do the paperwork later."

"Nah, Ron's working till eleven tonight and Mom and Dad aren't expecting me home until then; I have nowhere to be anytime soon."

Their conversation lapsed at that point as the salesman arrived beside them again. "So, what do you think?" he asked, visibly relieved that, despite the Richard Petty-inspired driving, the car returned in one piece.

"I think that, if everything goes well, I'd like to take it home," Kate replied with another winning smile. "What say we go talk numbers?"

* * *

A little over two hours later had the two women leaving the Global Justice complex where Kate was living for the time being. They'd stopped by long enough for Kim to drop off her former nemesis' borrowed car to the motor pool and were on their way back to the mall to pick up the teen's car. They'd driven in companionable silence for a few minutes before Kate decided to ask the question that had bothered her since they first spoke with the car salesman. "Kim… what did you mean when we were at the dealership?"

"About what?" the former cheerleader asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You'd said something about using your body to your advantage when you got loose from Phoenix… what did you do?"

Kim's face darkened as she stared out the windshield. She remained silent for a long moment before finally responding to her friend's question. "You saw what I was wearing that night, right?" she began, continuing when Kate acknowledged that she had. "Well, when they locked me in the cell they had me in, the guard they'd posted was spending more time staring at my ass and legs than he did actually guarding me. I noticed and decided I'd try to use it to my advantage."

"You were hoping he was thinking with Mr. Happy, right?"

"Yeah; I let my hair down and when I knew he was watching, I looked right at him and made sure my shorts were riding low enough to show him I was wearing a thong."

"That would've gotten his attention, alright."

"Oh, yeah; after I pranced around like a Vegas showgirl for a minute, he finally caved and came in the cell," Kim replied, the revulsion evident on her face as she recounted the story. "As soon as he came in, I started telling him how I had my eye on him and how hot and bothered being a captive made me… I, uh… I also kinda dragged you into it."

"Come again?"

"I'm sure you've seen and heard the stories that have gone around the rags that say Ron's just a cover and I'm really a lesbian and we're getting ready to move to Canada so we can get married?"

"You mean… _'us'?"_ Kate interjected, waving her hand back and forth between them. When Kim nodded, the former villainess burst into laughter. "Don't take this too personal, Princess, but you're not my type," she guffawed, slapping the steering wheel, "you have boobs."

"That goes both ways," Kim replied dryly, "but it helped my situation at the time. I told him that you were the reason I kept getting captured by Drakken; I _wanted_ to so you could get your hands on me."

"But that would've backfired; if you told him you were into me, you wouldn't want him."

"He thought that's what I was getting at, but I told him I was bisexual and craving a man at the moment," she explained, shuddering again at the memory. "When he committed and started trying to whip it out, I was close enough I could give him a forearm in the face and a knee in the package before he could react. Once I had him down and out, I stripped his guns, a Bowie knife and his keycard from him and got the hell out."

"Geez, Kim; I didn't know you had it in you," Kate said with a measure of awe in her voice.

"Neither did I," Kim replied, "but apparently desperate times call for desperate measures… and no matter how many times I tell myself that, it still doesn't help the fact I want to puke every time I think about it."

Casting a sidelong glance at the younger woman, Kate nodded with a wry grin. "At least we know your morals are still intact," she commented, "I'd be more worried if you told me you got off on the rush of doing it."

"Not a chance!" the redhead exclaimed vehemently. "The only man I want to do that for is Ron."

"I'm sure he'd enjoy it, too," Kate chuckled as she steered the new car into the Middleton Mall parking lot and pulled alongside Kim's Sloth. Looking at the clock mounted on the dashboard, the raven-haired vixen swore under her breath. "Listen, Kim; I hate to flake on you, but I just remembered I have a meeting in, like, twenty minutes with a realtor about a place I saw in the classifieds."

"Say no more," Kim replied with an understanding smile as she opened her door, "give me a call later and let me know how it went."

"You bet," the older woman replied as Kim closed the door.

* * *

Almost exactly twenty minutes later, Kate was standing in the driveway of a home in the Middleton suburbs, leaning against her car's rear quarter panel and smoking a cigarette while she waited for the realtor to show up. _Figures; I bust my ass to get here on time and the damned realtor's late,_ she groused internally as she looked over the house's façade. _On the bright side, if this place is as nice inside as it is outside, it'll be worth the wait,_ she mused as she looked the dwelling over.

For all intents and purposes, it was a typical split-level abode that had been originally built in the 1970's and updated by its current owner and seller. What had caught Kate's eye and interest was the spacious backyard—complete with a fenced-in, in-ground pool—that was enclosed by four-foot hedges on three sides and the relatively low selling price, considering it stood on a full acre and a half of land. Combined with the fact it was located barely ten minutes from downtown Middleton made the deal almost too good to be true, to the point that the former villainess had already decided to wait for the realtor to show her the house and property in its entirety before she bothered getting her hopes up.

Sighing, the malachite woman wandered to the end of the driveway and looked back at the house; idly noting just how much her car looked like it belonged, standing in front of the garage as it was. Taking a last, thoughtful drag off her cigarette, she turned to toss the butt down a storm drain when she noticed a white Chevy Tahoe slowing down and signaling a turn into the driveway. _About damn time,_ she thought as she stood aside to let the morbidly-large SUV pass; following behind it at a leisurely pace, her hands tucked into the back pockets of her pants, palms-out.

She had just drawn even with the back bumper of the Tahoe when the driver's door opened and a petite woman of about forty stepped out, her shoulder-length hair tied into a tight ponytail at the back of her head. "Sorry I'm late," she said as she opened the back door and withdrew a briefcase, "but my last showing took a bit longer than expected—first-time homebuyers that bring in their own GC's to inspect the house are a pain in my posterior."

"No problem," Kate said as the realtor arranged herself, "I was a little late getting here, myself."

"Well, we're here now; that's the important thing," the diminutive blonde said as she extended her hand. "Tina King."

"Kate Gogh," the reformed mercenary replied, shaking King's hand. "Before we get started, I have one question I just have to ask; why's this place selling for so cheap compared to the other houses in the area, especially with an acre and a half of land?"

"I really don't know for sure," King said with a shrug as she withdrew the key to the front door from the pocket of her blazer, "but I do know it's a legitimate deal; I happen to know the current owner personally, but he wouldn't go into details on why he's selling at such a low price."

"Fair enough," Kate replied with a nod.

King flashed an impossibly-white smile at her client as she gestured towards the house. "Shall we…?"

"That's what we're here for," the mint-skinned woman replied, motioning for the realtor to lead the way.

"Well, I know you've already read the online advertisement for this home, so I won't bore you with what was in that," King began as she led her client through the front door, "although I feel I have to reiterate the hardwood and ceramic floors throughout and the forced-air heating system. The roof, siding and windows have all been upgraded to the most energy-efficient models currently available on the market; the seller told me that the savings on the heating bill this past winter alone have all but paid for the renovations."

"Good to know; I like my heat in the wintertime," Kate noted as they toured the empty house.

"Don't we all," King agreed as they proceeded through the house.

Kate couldn't help but marvel at how spacious the entire dwelling was; apparently it was much bigger inside than it appeared from the outside. On the main level, there were three bedrooms, including the master bedroom—which had its own full bath, complete with Jacuzzi—the main bathroom and an open-concept living/dining/kitchen area. In the basement was another bedroom, a laundry room with a half-bath and corner shower stall, a utility room and a rec room that took up the remaining two-thirds of the level.

After they'd gone through the house, King picked up her shoes from the front entryway and motioned for Kate to follow her into the backyard. "No tour of this house is complete without seeing the back," she stated, stopping at the patio doors in the kitchen long enough to slip her footwear on; her client following suit with her sandals. "Almost a full acre of backyard, including a fenced-in, in-ground pool and a screened-in portion of the deck for entertaining on those warm summer evenings that you don't want to be eaten alive by mosquitoes."

"Are you _sure_ the price is right on the website?" the malachite vixen asked again as she looked over the immaculately-manicured lawn. "I would think a place like this would have a price tag about sixty or seventy grand more, at least."

"I know; I told the seller he could up the price that much and it would still sell fast, but he insisted that this be the asking price," King replied as they re-entered the house.

Kate couldn't help but chuckle to herself. "Normally I would never be willing to pay the listing price on a house, but this is too good a deal to pass up," she said, turning to look the realtor in the eye as the slight businesswoman slid the patio doors shut again. "How soon can we start the paperwork?"

"Let's go back to my office and we'll get started," King replied.

* * *

Kim, meanwhile, had decided to surprise her boyfriend, Ron Stoppable, with lunch. Taking a quick detour to the Bueno Nacho drive-thru, the teen heroine made her way to Smarty Mart and parked beside her life-long best friend's Mustang and shut the engine off, leaving the windows down and the radio playing as she dug her cell phone from her purse. Retrieving the device, she flipped it open and sent a quick text message to him:

_ Hey baby, here with bn for lunch, parked by your car_

Less than fifteen seconds later she received a reply:

_ Booya! Ill b out in 10_

Giggling at her boyfriend's typical reply, she flipped her phone shut and turned the radio up, the strains of Brad Paisley's "Ticks" wafting from the speakers. Reclining the seat a bit, the heroine folded her hands behind her head and closed her eyes, tapping her left foot behind the clutch pedal in time with the beat and enjoying the sensation of the warm sun shining on her through the window.

"I wouldn't mind checking you for ticks."

Kim heard the voice at about the same moment she realized there was a shadow blocking the sunlight that had been streaming through her open window. Opening her eyes, she tipped her sunglasses back to look at the uninvited newcomer. "And just what is that supposed to mean, Bobby?" she asked with more than just a hint of annoyance in her voice.

Bobby Johnson smirked as he rested his arm on the magenta hatchback's roof and leaned closer to the window. "You know exactly what I mean, Kim," he said, openly leering at her. "You're a woman that needs a real man, not some RPG-playing weirdo."

"And I suppose this is your way of applying for the position of 'real man', is it?"

"Well, I thought maybe you'd like to give it another shot; I mean, you _were_ a little hasty about breaking it off between us in junior year."

"Oh, really?" she retorted with raised eyebrows, her hands having surreptitiously moved so her left was on the door handle and her right was on the buckle of her seatbelt. "So the fact you wanted me to do things with you I wasn't ready to do wasn't a good enough reason to break it off?"

"Kim, Kim, Kim… we both know you wanted it, deep down; you were just scared to admit it to yourself," Bobby replied with a smirk. "Give me a chance and I'll make you forget all about loser-boy."

What happened next took all of about one-twentieth of a second: Kim unfastened her seatbelt and opened her door, catapulting herself out of the car and standing toe-to-toe with Bobby, pinning him against his pickup with her right forearm across his throat and her right knee planted between his legs, perfectly poised for a quick strike. "Now hear this," she snarled to the startled young man, "I have never wanted anything from you, Bobby; nor will I ever. Ron Stoppable is more man than you'll ever be and, more importantly, he's the perfect man for me."

"B-but…" Bobby stammered lamely.

"No buts, Bobby; I'm with Ron and I have every intention on keeping it that way," Kim interrupted. "Now, I would strongly suggest you get back in your truck and find another parking space; I'm waiting for Ron so we can have lunch together and I'd like to do so in peace."

Bobby nodded as vigorously as he could with Kim's arm pressed under his jaw, so she slowly backed off, keeping a defensive stance as she glared at him. Swallowing heavily once he had breathing room, the tall and—Kim wasn't too proud to admit—handsome young man slowly made his way around the dark-green Silverado, never turning to face away from his former crush. Once he'd made his way to the driver's door, he quickly jumped in and backed the vehicle from the parking space, speeding away with a light squeal of rubber.

"Some people's children," Kim sighed to herself as she slumped back into her car and shut the door, "it's times like this I can understand why Kate started smoking." Of course, she would never even consider taking up such an unhealthy habit—especially with a physician for a mother—but she wouldn't begrudge anybody that did, either.

She was so preoccupied with stewing over the irritation that was Bobby Johnson that she didn't notice Ron appear between his car and hers until he stuck his head in the open window and spoke. "Hey, KP!" he said cheerily, his bright grin dissipating when he saw the dark scowl on his girlfriend's face. "What's wrong?"

Turning to look at her boyfriend, her expression softened—she even managed a smile—as she unlocked the door. "Nothing's wrong, Ron," she said, picking the Bueno Nacho takeout bag up from the passenger's seat so he could get in. "Just annoyed by a former crush is all."

"Josh Mankey?"

"Bobby Johnson," she replied with a shake of her head. "I was listening to the radio with the windows open while I was waiting for you and he decided the time was ripe for a cheesy pick-up line."

"That wouldn't normally bother you," Ron said as he handed her a taco salad in a plastic container, "unless he said something else."

Kim couldn't suppress the amused chuckle that escaped her as she removed the clear dome from her salad and accepted the plastic fork from her boyfriend. "You know me way too well, you know that?" she said wryly.

"All part of being your best friend and boyfriend, KP," he replied matter-of-factly as he extracted a Naco from the bag. "So what did he say that got you worked up?"

"It was all laughable until he called you a loser," Kim said as she drizzled ranch dressing over her salad, replaced the dome on the container and shook it vigorously—maybe a little more vigorously than she needed—to coat her salad with the condiment; her voice warbling in time with her shaking as she spoke again. "He said something about being with a real man making me forget about loser-boy and, well… I lost it."

"Kim, please tell me our next visit won't be a conjugal one at the county jail," Ron moaned melodramatically as he watched her remove the cover from her salad again and unwrap the disposable fork.

"I didn't hit him," she retorted as she stabbed a piece of chicken rather vehemently, "I just made it perfectly clear that I didn't appreciate how he was talking to me in general and that I had every intention on having a peaceful lunch with the man I loved and it would probably be in his best interests to move along… I left out the part where I normally would tell him he _would_ get hurt if he didn't," she added with a smirk and inflection that suggested she was spending too much time with Kate.

As usual, Ron had worked his way through two Nacos and half a grande-sized soda in the amount of time it took his girlfriend to get four bites into her salad. Swallowing the mouthful of cola he had, the towheaded young man wiped his mouth with a napkin from the bag (Kim was really starting to rub off on him, manners-wise) before speaking again. "I suppose, when it comes right down to it, that was probably the only way to get the message through his head," he commented. "Just out of curiosity, what was his pickup line?"

Kim choked back a chuckle as she recalled Bobby's initial line, considering she had just taken a sip of her soda and really didn't like the idea of snorting it out her nose. "The song 'Ticks' was playing when he came along," she said, "and he comes along and tells me he wouldn't mind checking me for ticks."

Like Kim, Ron had been taking a sip of his soda while he listened. Unlike Kim, however, he couldn't hold back the guffaw that overtook him when she told him what Bobby had said, resulting in the freckle-faced teen gagging and shooting the carbonated beverage out both nostrils. Luckily for all involved, the now-empty Bueno Nacho bag in his lap caught the majority of the expelled liquid, thereby avoiding a potentially sticky mess. "Oh, man, KP," he finally choked out as he wiped the remnants from his nose and upper lip, "that _is_ bad! Even I could come up with something better than that… okay, maybe I couldn't," he conceded when he noticed his girlfriend's doubtful expression.

"Ah, but you forget one key detail," she said, gently touching her fingertip to the end of his nose.

"Oh? What's that?"

A fond smile crossed the redhead's face as she ran her fingers through her boyfriend's unruly locks. "I _like_ it when you use cheesy pickup lines on me," she said, leaning in to kiss his nose gently, "since we're already together; it's cute."

"Badical," Ron murmured with a grin as Kim's lips collided with his. As she pulled away, however, his grin was replaced with a scowl of confusion. "Wait, so cheesy pickup lines work better _after_ you've already landed the girl? That doesn't make any sense!"

Kim sighed with a knowing smirk. "Ron, the point is the cheesy pickup lines are cute because you're not trying to use them to actually pick me up; you're just being silly and, well, cute," she explained.

"Oh, okay; gotcha now," he nodded. _I think…_

"Don't strain yourself thinking about it too hard, baby," she giggled, grasping his hand and squeezing it tenderly, "it's just one of those girl things that you wouldn't understand."

"You mean like waxing your eyebrows?"

"Exactly."

"Oh, okay then," he sighed, visibly relaxing. For some time the young couple just sat and enjoyed each other's company; Kim's right hand softly caressing Ron's left before finally sliding fully into his gentle grasp, their fingers laced together.

A full ten minutes later, Kim broke the comfortable silence with a disappointed groan. "It's almost time for you to go back to work, isn't it?" she said.

"Yeah, it is," he sighed, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. He'd just started to doze off when Kim's voice roused him; which, he reasoned, was probably for the best. "Thanks again for lunch, KP; it was great."

"Anything for my guy," she replied, leaning across the center console to kiss him tenderly. "Have a good day, baby," she whispered, her lips brushing his as she spoke, "I love you."

"Love you too, KP," he murmured, stealing one last buss before stepping out of the car. After he shut the door, he leaned down and stuck his head through the still-open passenger's side window. "You want me to call you when I get out of here tonight?"

"Please and thank you," she said with a smile. "It'll be too late to go out and do anything, but we could always curl up in the den and watch a movie or something."

"Sounds like a plan to me," he replied, "talk to you later, KP."

"Bye," she said, waving at her man with a broad smile on her face. She sat and watched as Ron turned away and walked back towards the retail outlet, only starting her car once he'd stepped through the entrance and disappeared from sight. Backing out of her parking space, the teen heroine navigated through the parking lot and had just eased back into traffic towards her house when her cell phone rang. Pressing a button on the dashboard, she answered it through the Bluetooth hands-free feature built into the cabin of the car. "Hello?"

"_Hey Kim,"_ Tara King's voice said, _"did I catch you at a bad time?"_

"Hey Tara; no, not a bad time at all," Kim replied, "I just left Smarty Mart. What's up?"

"_Just left Smarty Mart, meaning you were visiting Ron,"_ the perky blonde said with a giggle in her voice. _"Listen, I need a huge favor and I think you're the only one that can help me."_

"Sure, T; what do you need?"

Kim heard Tara take a deep breath, almost as if she were dreading broaching the subject she'd already touched on, but she waited patiently for her former cheer teammate to speak. _"You know that cheer clinic that Bonnie and I have been running for the middle school students over the summer?"_

"Yeah; that was actually a really good idea," Kim replied, "how's it going so far?"

"_Oh, it's going great, but here's my problem: I hurt my knee again during the last class and the doctor wants me to lay off the acrobatics for this week. Would you be able to cover for me tonight?"_

"Of course I can," Kim replied, thankful Tara couldn't see the doubtful scowl that crossed her face, "but what's Bonnie gonna think about me showing up instead of you?"

"_It was Bonnie's idea,"_ Tara said, causing the redhead to blink in surprise. _"When I called her and told her I wouldn't be able to make tonight's class, she suggested I call you and if you couldn't, she was gonna try Marcella."_

Kim was taken aback by Tara's statement, but she managed to keep her voice steady as she responded. "Oh, well; I guess if Bonnie's okay with it, I'll do it," she said. "What time am I supposed to meet her there?"

"_Class starts at seven-thirty; Bonnie's usually there around seven to warm up if you want to go over and get up to speed on what we're working on. It's pretty basic stuff, so it shouldn't take long for you to figure out where we're going with it."_

"Okay," Kim said as she glanced at the clock on the car's dashboard, "it's six-thirty now and I'm almost home; were you gonna call Bonnie or should I?"

"_I'll call her and let her know you're on your way,"_ Tara replied. _"Thanks a million, Kim; you're a lifesaver."_

"No problem, Tara; hope your knee gets better soon," Kim said.

"_You and me both,"_ the blonde said dryly, _"talk to you later, Kim."_

"Bye," the redhead replied, disconnecting the call. _Wonder how this is gonna work out,_ she mused as she carried on towards her home, intrigued by the unexpected turn of events.

* * *

The Bermuda Triangle was, as usual, a busy spot. Located just off the Cayman Islands, the island nightclub was a popular destination for local boaters and international jet-setters alike. Offering a world-class dance club, Vegas-style casino, poker tables and a host of other distractions, the Triangle had activities to cater to any and all interests; one of the main reasons it was the hotspot it had become.

Far beneath the bustling nightclub and the hubbub of the main dance floor, in the bowels of the establishment, the proprietor of the club—Harold "Big Daddy" Brotherson—was seated on his usual pile of Oriental-style cushions. A short man with a receding hairline and an expanding waistline, the soft-spoken Brotherson's appearance gave no hint of his main profession… information broker of the underworld. If anything was worth knowing in the worlds of both legitimate business and illegitimate affairs—organized or not—Brotherson knew about it and knew who wanted it.

Being such a wealth of information did come at a cost, however. Due to his vast knowledge of goings-on in the criminal world, Brotherson had to spend the majority of his time in the cavernous and fortified depths of his nightclub. For the informant, he felt it was a small price to pay in order to ensure the success of his enterprise; he wasn't what one would call an avid outdoorsman (in reality, he could almost be described as agoraphobic) and saw the time he spent in his bunker-like abode as convenient, allowing him the opportunity to ensure any and all information he acquired was objective and accurate before he passed it along to the highest bidder.

Of course, Brotherson—like most other back-room businessmen—had eccentricities that his clients had to deal with and endure; namely his affinity for playing silly and childish games before divulging purchased information. Failure to do so insulted him quite profusely, usually resulting in his bodyguard—a six-foot-seven behemoth of a man ironically named "Tiny"—engaging the client in a round of his favorite game, _Thud._ Due to his reputation for all information provided being 100% accurate, however; such eccentricities were considered a necessary evil by those who dealt with him.

Such was the mindset of the current visitor to the informant's domain. Having dealt with Brotherson before, he'd come prepared to endure the trivialities associated with enlisting the man's services and wasn't surprised when he was challenged to a highly-competitive round of "Red Light, Green Light," which brought him to a pouffe directly across from the balding informant.

"Have a seat," Brotherson said in his silky-smooth voice as one small hand motioned to the ornate pillow before him.

"Thank you," the client said as he lowered himself to the cushion, only speaking again once he'd found a way to fold his long legs comfortably while seated four inches off the ground. "I see you've upgraded your facilities since the last time we did business; apparently you're doing well for yourself."

"I have no complaints," Brotherson replied with a small smile. "There has been and always will be a market for information and knowledge; making my living by providing such knowledge for a fee has proven to be most lucrative."

"Apparently," the man noted, looking around the room observationally.

"I don't believe, however, that your reason for being here has to do with my financial status," the eccentric information broker stated as he opened a laptop on a stand beside him and tapped a few keys. "I've researched the subject you inquired about and I must say the results were… _intriguing, _to say the least."

Brotherson's client laid the stainless-steel briefcase he'd brought flat between them and opened it so it faced the vertically-challenged man. "Twenty-five thousand dollars in non-sequential United States currency; no denomination higher than one hundred dollars and all bills have been in circulation," he said, "as we agreed."

"As we agreed," Brotherson parroted as he plugged a flash drive into the laptop and turned it to face his client. "You may peruse the information to ensure its quality before we close the transaction," he said, "and you're free to leave with either your money or the information at any time; just not both."

"Of course, Mr. Brotherson; I'm well aware of the etiquette involved," the middle-aged man said as he approached the laptop and scanned the information he'd requested. He said nothing until he'd finished, sitting back with an annoyed grunt. "So the rumors are true," he muttered with a scowl.

"What rumors would those be, Mr. Gray?" Brotherson asked.

"I'd been told by several sources in my field that Shego had renounced her former employer in favor of working with Kim Possible," Gray replied with a sigh, "which is most unfortunate and inconvenient for my purposes."

"Your purpose for this information is none of my concern, Mr. Gray," the pudgy informant said with a frown. "Will you be purchasing the information to peruse further at your own leisure, or will you be leaving it with me?"

"Oh, I'll take the information," Gray said, "it is still valuable to me and may provide me with a way to rectify this new conundrum that's arisen."

"Very well," Brotherson said as he dismounted the flash drive from the laptop and dropped it into Gray's open hand. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Gray."

"Likewise, Mr. Brotherson," Gray nodded as he placed the small drive into an inner pocket of his blazer and rose. "Good day to you, sir."

"And to you," Brotherson replied with a nod, watching intently as Tiny escorted the distinguished-looking man from the information broker's inner sanctum.

* * *

_A/N: Well, there it is; the beginnings of another adventure for Kim and Ron and the gang. Like I said before, there's really not much to say at this point, other than I hope you enjoy this one. For those that have read and enjoyed the previous story, all I'll say is I hope this one lives up to your expectations and I look forward to hearing from each and every one of you._

_As always, leave a review and get a response!_

_Cheers,  
Deuce  
_


	2. Chapter One

_**STANDARD DISCLAIMER:**__The characters of Kim Possible, Dr. James Timothy Possible, Dr. Anne Possible, Jim and Tim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Wade Load, Steve Barkin, Bonnie Rockwaller, Monique, Tara, Felix Renton, Rufus the Naked Mole Rat, Drew "Dr. Drakken" Lipsky, Shego, Dr. Dementor, Lord Montgomery "Monkey Fist" Fiske, Señor Senior Senior, Señor Senior Junior, Dr. Betty Director, Special Agent Will Du, Global Justice and any and all other minor characters/locations from the television series _Kim Possible_ are the sole property of the Walt Disney Corporation, and are used herein without permission or contest to their ownership for the sole purpose of personal, non-profit entertainment. Any and all minor characters that have not appeared in the television series, and this storyline, are the sole creation and property of the author and may not be reproduced without prior consent (if you want to post it, just ask)._

_**

* * *

CHAPTER ONE**_

Kim pulled into the parking lot of the Middleton High gymnasium at about five minutes before seven, noticing right away that Bonnie's white convertible was already there, with the owner nowhere to be seen. Assuming the bronze-skinned woman was already inside, she parked her car in the space beside Bonnie's and climbed out with her gym bag slung over her shoulder, locking the car with the key fob as she headed for the main entrance to the gym.

She saw no sign of her high school nemesis until she entered the change room, where the lithe brunette was sitting on a bench and tying her sneakers, dressed in a pair of black workout shorts and a pink sports bra. "Hey Bonnie," she said, announcing her presence.

"Oh, hey Kim," the tanned woman replied, glancing up only briefly before returning to the task of lacing up the pristine-white Reeboks on her feet. "Did Tara tell you this is what time I'm normally here?"

"She said you usually got here around seven, so I thought I'd come and get up to speed on what you've taught the girls so far," the teen heroine replied as she extracted her workout clothes and sneakers from her bag.

"Trust me, it's real basic stuff; I just figured it would be nice if the girls trying out for the varsity squad had a little knowledge of the basics instead of coming in greener than the grass," Bonnie said, rising from the bench and picking up her towel and water bottle. "If the class was only ten or twelve girls, I could probably handle it on my own, but where it's so big, I need to have somebody else here to help answer questions and demonstrate some of the moves."

"How many girls do you have?"

"Twenty-five regulars and a couple that show up when they feel like it… needless to say, I don't exactly spend a whole lot of time on them; if they were serious they'd be here every session."

"Fair enough," Kim nodded as she slipped a pair of ankle socks and her sneakers on her feet. Standing, she looked at Bonnie and grinned as she tied her hair into a ponytail. "Ready whenever you are," she said, motioning for the other woman to lead the way.

Both had slipped into silence as they entered the gym from the locker room, neither speaking to the other as they started stretching. About halfway through their warm-up, Bonnie finally broke the silence. "I'm sorry, Kim," she said, almost too softly for her to hear.

Stopping mid-stretch, the redhead stood up straight and looked at the darker woman. "Sorry for what, Bonnie?" she asked with a befuddled expression on her face.

Bonnie stopped her own stretching and turned to face Kim with downcast eyes. "I've been doing a lot of thinking ever since what happened to Ron when you were in Denver…" she began, but trailed off when the first of their students started entering the gym. "Are you busy after class?"

"Anytime you need to talk, Bonnie, I have the time to listen," Kim replied sincerely. "Why don't we go to that little coffee shop downtown and talk there?"

"Works for me," she nodded before resuming her warm-up and pushing the curiosity of what Bonnie would have to say to the back of her mind.

Fifteen minutes later, Bonnie and Kim stood side-by-side, facing the twenty-five members of the class. "Okay, girls," the brunette started, "as you've probably noticed by now, Tara couldn't be here tonight—she hurt herself last week, but she should be okay for next week—so we asked one of our old teammates if she'd be able to join us for tonight and help us out."

"You never told us you were on the same cheer squad as Kim Possible!" one of the girls towards the back of the group interjected, sounding slightly scandalized.

"We didn't really think it was worth mentioning," Bonnie shrugged, "but it is true; Kim here was our captain and one of the main reasons we took the State championship this spring."

"Don't let that change how the class is going to go, though," Kim added. "While I was Bonnie and Tara's captain on the cheer squad, tonight I'm the assistant and Bonnie's the boss; I'm just here to help out."

"And we're glad you could make it," the tanned brunette said with a grin directed at Kim before returning her attention to the class before them. "So, to break Kim in to our routine, let's start with a review of what we worked on last week…"

* * *

Wade Load was, as usual, sitting in front of the bank of computer monitors in his room. Ever since the culmination of the Phoenix case, things had been quiet, allowing the teen tech guru the chance to catch up on some of the more important things in life—namely conquering the next level in the newest _Everlot_ expansion.

He was just finally figuring out the level boss' weakness and started making headway when an alert on a different screen notified him of an incoming video call. Sighing, he paused the game and turned to face the monitor as he accepted the call; not overly surprised when it was the visage of one Dr. Betty Director that appeared on the screen. "Good afternoon, Dr. Load; I hope I'm not interrupting anything?" she said with a friendly smile.

"Not really, no," he replied with a shake of his head. "What can I do for you today?"

"I just thought you, Kim and Ron would like an update on the latest with the Phoenix case," the eyepatch-clad woman said as her eye flicked briefly away from the screen, as if she were glancing at a sheet of paper in front of her.

"I didn't really think there was anything left of the Phoenix case that concerned us, but if you think it's something they might want to hear, I'm all ears," the teen tech guru said with a hint of surprise.

"There really isn't all that much to report, but a couple of points of interest did come up. First of all, we've managed to confirm the complete seizure of all Phoenix assets; the land and other physical assets—minus weapons—will be put up for public auction, while weapons are being sent to a refinery to be melted down."

"What about Phoenix personnel?"

Director couldn't help but chuckle wryly as she answered Wade's question. "That right there is the biggest logistical nightmare I've seen in my twenty-two years with Global Justice," she said with a sigh. "We have to interrogate each and every single employee of Phoenix and figure out in what capacity they operated within the organization, and then we have to figure out whether or not charges are worth pursuing—if they can even _be_ charged—based on the results of the interrogation. Of course, we do have a few key members that we're going to focus on, but there are still over four hundred and fifty people that worked there that either didn't know or didn't care what they were involved in."

Wade let out a low whistle as he considered the scope of what Global Justice had undertaken by shutting the Phoenix Corporation down once and for all. "Man, I don't envy you for that job," he said.

"Comes with the territory," she stated with a shrug. "Once all the sexy ground work is done, the paper pushing starts; it's normally not so bad, but this is an exceptional case with a scope well beyond what we normally deal with."

"No kidding," Wade replied. "Do you even have the resources you need to slog through all that?"

Director's face broke into a sadistic grin as she chuckled. "Oh yeah," she said, "my 'Number One Agent' is sitting in one of the secondary boardrooms right now with a laptop and stacks of folders four feet tall covering the entire surface of the table as part of disciplinary action following the events of the night Ron was shot."

"Disciplinary action?" he parroted.

The Global Justice administrator nodded, her expression darkening slightly. "I am a patient and fair woman, Wade, but even I can only take that pompous ass putting you, Kim and Ron down for so long before I get just a little angry," she explained. "After he tried to reason that it was Ron's own fault for getting shot and that maybe it would serve as a message to the 'amateurs', he then proceeded to question my judgment about letting Kate help Kim while Ron was hurt."

"He just couldn't let go of the fact Kate was Shego, could he?"

"Not in the least," she confirmed with a sigh. "It took me explaining the difference between dereliction of duty and thinking outside the box that made him start seeing the light; I'm hoping that—combined with administration duties while we sort through this Phoenix fiasco—will help him withdraw his head from his backside."

"One can hope," Wade replied with a grin. "Is there anything else we should know?"

"Actually… yes," Director said; her tone of voice suggesting she'd been fighting an internal battle whether or not to include the tidbit she was about to divulge. Taking a deep breath, she licked her lips as she finally continued. "We've been informed by reliable sources that somebody—we don't know who—is apparently showing a suspiciously high interest in what Kate's been doing the last month or so."

"Makes sense when you think about it," the teen phenom commented with a shrug. "Shego was always a highly-respected member of the villain community; now that they know Drakken's out of business—permanently, I hope—they might be trying to track her down to extend a job offer to her."

"That was my original thought, too," Director replied, "but they weren't just interested in Shego; they also gleaned everything they could on Kathryn Gogh, too… including her involvement with Team Possible during the Drakken incident."

Wade rubbed his chin as he digested the information. "So what you're thinking is somebody is either interested in bringing Shego back to the dark side like I said, or else…"

"Somebody's not happy about Kate's decisions and wants to do something about it," the eyepatch-clad woman finished with a nod. "That's exactly what I'm worried about."

"If they managed to get that kind of information, they should also be aware of the fact Kate's currently staying with Global Justice and the chances of getting to her are slim to none," Wade interjected.

"If they can get that kind of information, they'll also have no trouble finding out if and when Kate gets her own accommodations," Director replied. "Somebody's really keen on finding her and probably won't stop until they do."

"Either way, somebody's _way_ too interested in Kate for us to ignore, right?"

"Right," the GJ administrator confirmed with a nod. "I wish I had more for you, but that's all I have right now. Whoever's looking for her is exceptionally good at covering their tracks well enough to conceal their identity."

"Which could be doubly dangerous," he added. "A good spy will cover his tracks completely; a great one will only cover enough to hide himself… he doesn't care that you know what he's done, he only cares that you don't know he's the one that did it."

"Precisely," she nodded again, "and that right there worries me worse than anything else we've discussed so far."

"Agreed; so what do we do?"

Again, Director sighed deeply. "For now… nothing," she finally said. "We've got nothing to go on aside from the fact somebody is sniffing for information about somebody. We have no idea who they are or why they want said information, so we can't pursue anybody or have any inkling of what they're going to do. Rather than give Kate something else to stress out about, I figure it's best to just keep this to ourselves for now; Kate's a big girl, she can handle herself if somebody tries to pull something."

Wade didn't like the thought of keeping what Director had just told him from their newest ally, but he deferred to the GJ administrator's years of experience and accepted her decision. "I suppose we should probably keep this between us for now, huh?" he said. "If I tell Kim, she's gonna want to go all-out and try to find who's so curious about Kate and why."

"My thoughts exactly," Director replied with a nod. "Once we have something a little more concrete, then we can decide how best to proceed, and you'll be the first to know."

"I never doubted it," Wade grinned as they signed off.

* * *

Across town, Kim and Bonnie were just sitting at a table at the sidewalk café they'd agreed to meet at earlier in the evening. Ever since their conversation had been pushed aside by the cheer students' arrivals, the teen heroine had been curious as to what exactly her one-time nemesis had been trying to address and was eager to resume the discussion; hopefully uninterrupted.

After the two teens had sampled their beverages (a latté for Bonnie and a dark roast for Kim), the brunette put her cup down and looked at her companion with a hint of—was it shyness?—in her eyes. "Listen, Kim; thanks for helping me out, filling in for Tara tonight," she said softly, almost as if she were speaking unfamiliar words, "I really appreciate it."

"No big," Kim replied with a smile. "It was nice to see what you guys are doing with that class and, from what I saw today, you're giving those girls a chance to put together a squad better than what we had."

"That's the idea, anyway; if we do this camp—even only for a couple of summers—we can make sure the next class of Mad Dog cheerleaders will be able to uphold the legacy we started."

"Why only a couple of summers?"

"After we do the first two or three summers, the girls we're working with now will be juniors or seniors and they can take over teaching the next batch of twelve-year-olds."

"Good idea," Kim nodded. "Lord only knows we won't be able to do this forever."

"Exactly," Bonnie nodded, "this way the knowledge keeps flowing down and doesn't get lost."

Putting her mug down, the teen heroine looked across the table at her one-time nemesis. "Well, I think you're off to a good start," she said with a grin.

"Thanks," the tanned woman said with a sincere smile of gratitude. She hesitated for a moment, merely staring at the slowly-dissolving foam on top of her latté, before she finally spoke again, her fingers toying silently with the sides of the mug she held. "Listen, Kim… remember I said I'd been doing a lot of thinking ever since what happened to Ron?"

"Yeah, that was the whole reason we decided to come here; so we could talk in private," Kim replied, leaning closer.

"Right," Bonnie nodded, taking a deep breath before continuing. "You know I've been seeing Junior for awhile now, right?"

"Yeah; how's that going, anyway?"

"It's not," the tanned teen replied with a scowl of disgust.

"I don't get it," Kim said, quirking an eyebrow inquisitively. "I thought Junior was exactly what you wanted in a man?"

"So did I, but lately it seems like something's… missing."

"He's a good-looking guy, but there's no substance to the relationship, right?" she ventured.

"Exactly!" Bonnie replied emphatically. "All he ever talks about is his non-existent music career—if God's merciful it'll stay that way—and how beautiful he is and how great his hair is. I mean, is it too much to ask for him to tell me when an outfit looks good on me or to ask how my day's gone or anything like that?"

"If he's so hung up on himself, why is he even with you?"

"So he doesn't have to run it by hand all the time."

"Whoa!" Kim exclaimed, waving her hands in front of herself in a cease-and-desist motion. "That's _way_ too far down TMI Lane, Bonnie!"

"That's what it feels like, though!" Bonnie retorted in frustration. "He spends more time looking at his reflection in the mirror than he does looking at me; hell, I think the only time he even _bothers_ to look at me is when I'm only wearing what God gave me! At least I don't have to wonder whether or not I'm just his beard," she added with a shudder, "'cause he sure seems to like what he sees."

"So you're feeling like a piece of meat more and more all the time, huh?"

"Yeah," the brunette sighed, looking at her latté again. "Like I said, I thought he was what I wanted in a guy, but I'm seeing more and more that I want something like what you and Ron have; I'm tired of being with guys that are all looks and no substance."

"But what about the so-called 'food chain' you always talked about in school?"

"Fuck the food chain, Kim!" she spat, making Kim jump in surprise. "It doesn't mean shit if you're not happy because of it!" Noting that she'd caught the attention of some nearby patrons, she took a deep breath before continuing in a much more subdued tone. "Do you know why I was such a bitch to you in school over the years?"

"I don't know if I'd go that far…"

"Oh, come on, Kim; let's call a spade a spade here," Bonnie interjected acidly. "I was the 'Queen B' of Middleton High and we both know the 'B' didn't stand for 'Bonnie'. I was a bitch, plain and simple; especially to you and Ron.

"Anyway, the reason I was always so horrible to you was because, well… I was jealous."

"Jealous?" Kim parroted, again quirking an eyebrow. "Of me and Ron?"

"Not so much Ron; mostly you," Bonnie replied. "I only picked on Ron because he was your friend and it pissed you off, which made me feel better. Immature, I know, but there it is."

"Okay… so why were you jealous of me?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she countered. "As long as I've known you, I worked my ass off—both in cheerleading and in schoolwork—and you were always better than me. I studied four hours a night to pull a three-point-eight GPA and you could nail a four-point-oh without breaking a sweat; I joined a dojo thinking that martial arts would help me the way it helps you in cheerleading and spent an hour every day after practice at the gym weight training to build muscle tone. I even started getting up at four-thirty every morning so I could go to the aquatic center and swim fifty laps before school… but no matter how hard I tried, you were always better."

Kim could barely believe what she'd just heard. "You mean… you were competing with me?" she asked.

Bonnie bowed her head again, this time to hide the tear that rolled down her cheek. "You were always the athletic one, the talented one; just once I wanted to be better than you at something. No matter how hard I tried, though, you were always better," she muttered, fighting to keep her voice steady. "Between my sisters at home and you at school, I was getting tired of always being second-best; just once I wanted to be the one getting recognized and, well, I guess I got kind of petty and hateful in the process… and I think I might've blown a chance at having a pretty good friend at the same time."

Both sat silent as the tanned beauty finished speaking. Needless to say, Kim was slightly taken aback by the sudden revelation that Bonnie seemed to have experienced, but at the same time it was a welcome change from her high school nemesis' usual attitude of superiority. Sipping her coffee, the redhead put her cup back down before looking across the table again, this time with an encouraging smile on her face. "That may be true, Bonnie… but it's never too late to try."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean we've already sat here and had a civil conversation—hell, you just poured your heart out to me—and we didn't have any arguments or power struggles earlier this evening. At the risk of sounding harsh, tonight is the most sincerely pleasant I think I've ever seen you as long as I've known you," Kim replied, her green eyes locked on Bonnie's blue ones, "and I think I'd like to get to know this Bonnie better."

"I'd like that, too, K," Bonnie said with a sincere smile on her face.

"If you don't mind me asking, though… why the sudden change of heart? I mean, I'm not complaining, but at prom and graduation you seemed to still have the same opinion of me and Ron; losers with a capital 'L'."

"Not exactly," Bonnie replied with a shake of her head. "I didn't go out of my way to find you and try to make nice, but at the same time I had already started thinking about that stupid food chain and where it got me. I just wasn't quite ready to approach you yet… watching what happened to Ron on live TV and wondering whether or not he was going to make it made me realize life's too short for pointless high school feuds.

"Speaking of Ron, how's he doing since then, anyway? I heard he had some sort of a miracle recovery and was back on his feet in no time; something to do with that green chick you used to fight all the time?"

"Yeah, when he found out I'd been kidnapped, he tried to get out of the hospital to go find me," Kim replied with a nod. "He talked Kate into using her comet powers to speed up the healing process and joined the rescue mission."

"You must've been glad to see him back on his feet," the brunette said with a grin, which quickly faded. "I remember when it happened, all I could think was after all you two have been through together, it would've really sucked if that was how it was all gonna end."

"Bonnie, you don't know fear until you look at the man you love more than life itself and realize he could very well be dying right before your eyes," the redhead said quietly, the details and memories of that fateful night still vivid in her mind. "I honestly don't know what I would do if I ever lost him… and I hope I never have to find out."

"I can only imagine," Bonnie commented somberly. Bringing her gaze back up to meet Kim's, she smiled warmly. "I can honestly tell you, though, that I'm glad he's okay; not just for his sake, but yours, too."

"Thanks," Kim replied, returning the smile. Looking at her watch, she sighed and drained her coffee cup. "Listen, it's getting late and I'm supposed to meet Ron when he gets off work; mind if we pick this up another time?"

"No problem; I should probably get going, too," the tanned woman replied, finishing her own beverage and rising from her seat. "And… Kim?"

"Yeah, B?"

"Thanks again… I'm glad we could clear the air between us."

Kim smiled and nodded. "You said it yourself; life's too short for pointless high school feuds, and if you're ready to bury the hatchet, then so am I."

"Beyond ready," she agreed as they headed for their cars. "Tara should be okay for next week, but if you want to come back, we'd love to have you."

"I'll be there," Kim replied as she unlocked her car and opened the door. Waving at her former high-school nemesis, she watched the white convertible pull onto the road before she finally climbed into her magenta hatchback and closed the door. _First Kate, now Bonnie's making nice… I wonder if I shouldn't start watching for the Four Horsemen,_ she mused as she inserted the key into the ignition with a wry chuckle.

* * *

Barely two blocks away from the coffee shop, Kate had just wandered into a pub; the sign advertising live entertainment having caught her eye. It was a typical pub and eatery type establishment: several various-sized tables scattered about, a bar directly across from the door and a stage at one end of the room with a vacant space in front of it as a dance floor. Several groups of patrons were already seated at some of the tables; however none of the stools along the bar were occupied.

"What'll ya have?" the thirty-something bartender/waitress asked as the mint-skinned woman slid onto a stool near the end of the bar.

"Bud," she replied simply, withdrawing a small wad of cash from her pocket.

"Four bucks," the waitress said, placing a frosted bottle of Budweiser on the bar.

Kate removed a five from the wad and handed it to the bartender. "Keep the change."

"Thanks," she said as she inserted the bill into her cash float. "Come to see the band?"

"I guess so," the former villainess replied, taking a sip of her beer. "I'm new in town and was looking for somewhere to just relax for a bit; saw the sign when I was driving by and thought I'd stop in."

"Oh, you're new in town? I thought you looked familiar for some reason; like I met you somewhere before."

_Please, God, no._ "Yeah; just moved here last week," she replied nonchalantly as she turned her gaze to the stage. "You heard these guys before?" she asked, hoping to change the subject before anything caused the bartender to recognize her as Shego. _Thank God it's dark enough she can't see the green in my skin._

The bartender nodded. "Yeah, they played here about a month ago; pretty good group of local boys that play for fun and a little bit of pocket dough when they get a gig."

"What kind of stuff do they do?"

"Mostly country and classic rock with a little rockabilly mixed in; popular with the crowd we get in here."

"Please tell me when you say country you don't mean 'tear in my beer' kinda stuff," Kate said, chancing a quick glance back at the bartender.

"Oh, hell no," the blonde woman said with a shake of her head, "they play the stuff you can get up and dance to; Kentucky Headhunters and Travis Tritt kinda stuff."

"Good," the ebony-haired vixen said with a hint of relief. "I don't think I could handle listening to that all night; I'm in a good mood and I'd like to keep it that way."

The bartender chuckled as she wiped down a section of the bar not far from where Kate sat. "I hear that; I'm not big on that super-sad stuff, either."

"Well, you know what they say happens if you play a country song backwards, right?"

"What?"

"You get your wife back, your truck back, your dog back…"

"Amen, sister," the bartender laughed as she moved to serve another customer that had just approached the bar. "Enjoy the show; just wave if you need another one."

"Thanks," Kate said, a bare hint of a grin still crossing her features as the server walked away. Taking another sip of her beer, she turned to scan the crowd again, idly noting that the band members had arrived and were in the process of setting up their gear on the stage. _Hopefully they're as good as the bartender claims they are,_ she thought as she turned back to face the bar again, _I'd hate to think she's just trying to keep me around for the tips._

She'd just turned around and was taking another sip of her beer when a familiar face appeared beside her, wearing her usual chipper smile. "Well, hello Kate," Anne Possible said as she slid onto the stool beside the former villainess. "I think you're about the last person I expected to run into here."

"The feeling's mutual," Kate replied with a good-natured grin. "You here alone tonight, or is the other Dr. Possible with you?"

"No, I'm supposed to be meeting a couple of the nurses from the hospital for a girls' night; you're welcome to join us when they get here."

"Thanks, but I wouldn't want to impose," the mint-skinned woman said with a wan smile.

"Kate; it's a girls' night with some friends from work, not a first date," the neurosurgeon retorted. "Just because you don't work at the hospital doesn't mean you can't join us for a couple of drinks. Besides, wouldn't sitting with us beat sitting here at the bar all by yourself and having to fend off a bunch of drunken old men hitting on you?"

The younger woman couldn't help but laugh at Anne's statement. "I think I can manage a drunken old man or two," she replied dryly.

"Oh, I know you can; I'm just saying it would probably make your evening that much more enjoyable to not have to deal with it in the first place."

"Well, when you put it that way…" Kate said as the bartender took Anne's order. "Okay, why not?"

"Great; let's go get a table before they're all gone," Anne said as she paid for her drink and picked it up. The two women proceeded to find a table not far from the edge of the dance floor and sat across from each other, where conversation picked up again. "So what brought you here tonight, anyway?" the redhead asked as she sipped her Corona.

"Night was young; I didn't feel like going back to GJ just yet and was driving around when I saw the sign out front of this place advertising a live band for tonight, so I decided to stop in and check them out," Kate replied. "It's been so long since I've been able to sit in a bar and listen to a live band without wondering who's going to figure out who I am and turn me in; this'll be a nice change of pace."

"I bet," Anne nodded.

"So what about you?" the jade-hued woman countered, sipping on her beer before continuing. "I never pictured you for the downtown bar type; I figured you doctor-types were more into the lounge scene."

"Oh, not at all; this kind of place is more my speed than one of those snobby lounges… not to mention the music's usually better here."

"Guess that's what I get for judging a book by its cover," Kate mused as she let her eyes wander back to the stage, where she let them linger on one of the band members, who was in the process of setting up his guitar's amplifier, facing away from the stage. "Then again," she added, "sometimes you can hope the cover is an indication of the contents."

Following the younger woman's gaze, the world-renowned physician couldn't help but chuckle. "Wipe your chin, Kate; you're starting to drool," she quipped as she turned back to her companion. "I realize your interactions with men over the past few years have been mostly professional and far from pleasant, but don't just fall for the first pretty face you see."

"Who said anything about his face?" Kate countered as she met Anne's eyes. "Besides, just because I'm wandering the lot doesn't mean I'm gonna test drive every model; you of all people should understand that."

"Come again?"

"Oh, come on, Anne; you're married and I saw you check that guy's ass out, too."

"So I'm a sucker for a guy in Levi's."

"He's wearing Wrangler's."

"Dammit."

Kate laughed heartily as she watched the neurosurgeon's cheeks flush in embarrassment. "Oh, come on; don't tell me this is the first time you've ever looked at another man since you and Dr. Possible got together," she exclaimed between laughs. "After all, there's nothing wrong with appreciating a good-looking guy; you're not dead and you're certainly not blind."

Despite her embarrassment, the redhead soon joined in the laughter. "I know, Kate; it's just embarrassing to get called out on it," she replied, raking her fingers through her lengthening hair—she'd begun growing it out at her daughter's suggestion—and sighing as she looked down at the table and her half-empty bottle of Corona before returning her eyes to look at the other woman again. "And you're a horrible influence on me, y'know that?"

"I know," Kate replied with a Cheshire-cat smirk as she tipped her bottle to her lips and drained it. "You ready for another round?" she asked, wiggling her now-empty bottle in her hand for emphasis.

"Only if you let me get the next one."

"Deal," she chuckled as she rose and headed to the bar.

Since the two women had taken the table in favor of sitting at the bar, the establishment had filled up quite substantially; Kate was having a hard time navigating the sea of people and tables that had further congested the floor space. Doing her level best to not lose her temper and introduce somebody's nose to her right fist every time she was jostled or unwittingly tripped, she finally managed to make her way to the bar and order the drinks.

While she waited for the bartender to return, she happened to look to her left and noticed the long stare the Wrangler-clad band member was giving her from not ten feet away. With her temper already having been soured fighting her way through the crowd and her only desire to listen to a decent band, she really wasn't in the mood for a cheesy pickup line from some guitar picker with an overly-inflated sense of self-entitlement. _Sorry, pal; you ain't no Kenny Chesney, much as you might think you are,_ she thought before she addressed him. "See something you like, cowboy?" she snapped, taking out some of her frustrations on him.

Rather than deter him, however, her outburst merely served to trigger a glimmer of recognition in his eye. Making his way along the bar, he stopped just outside of arm's reach; close enough to be heard without invading her personal space. "Katie? Katie Gogh?" he said tentatively after a moment's hesitation.

At first, she was both surprised and offended; surprised that the man recognized her by her real name and offended that he'd addressed her as "Katie." She was about ready to light into him for using the diminutive form of her name when a sudden realization hit her. "There's only one person on the face of this planet I ever let call me Katie," she began, her memory and imagination working overtime as she looked at the man's goateed face, "and I haven't seen him in almost ten years."

A broad grin replaced the unsure look on the man's face as she'd inadvertently confirmed her identity to him. "It's been an awful long ten years without my best friend," he said warmly, taking a half-step in her direction.

Kate instinctively shrunk back a little in response to his advance. She was a long way from being convinced that the man before her was who he said he was, however the way he addressed her—not to mention the fact he initially recognized her as "Katie" instead of "Shego"—did build a decent case in his favor. "Okay," she finally said, albeit cautiously, "other than being the only person I let call me Katie, tell me something else that only you and I would know."

"Okay," he nodded, taking another step closer. Kate didn't step away this time, assuming he was getting closer to minimize the risk of being overheard. "One thing you've always hated is letting anybody see you get emotional; every time you would get upset at just about anything—at home, at school, it didn't matter—you would always disappear somewhere and let it out where you knew you wouldn't be found."

"You're gonna have to do better than that," the malachite vixen scoffed. It was well-known that Shego would never show any emotions aside from anger and cynicism; he could've figured that out without having ever met her before.

"I'm not finished," he replied, slipping onto a barstool and adjusting the Stetson on his head. "I was the only person you ever even _dared_ let your guard down in front of, and even that didn't happen all the time… but one time in particular—when we were fifteen—stands out in my mind."

"Oh, my God…" she gasped, a vivid memory suddenly awakening from the darkest recesses of her mind.

"We were in your treehouse and I had just told you my parents and I were moving," he continued, either ignorant or oblivious to her quiet outburst. "You got all quiet and just sat down on the old love seat your brother had put up there, trying your damndest to not start crying in front of me. It almost worked, too… until I gave you the gold chain you happen to be wearing around your neck right now."

"You used to wear this thing all the time," she reminisced as her fingers gently toyed with the simple chain. "Your dad gave it to you for your thirteenth birthday and you never took it off until you gave it to me."

He nodded as he spoke again. "Yeah, but I wanted you to have it, Katie… it was my way of saying I'd never forget you; even after all these years, you've still been the best friend I've ever had."

"Dammit, Jake; you're gonna make me do it again!" she spat, bowing her head to hide the tears that had started forming in the corners of her eyes.

"Sorry," he said, shrugging sheepishly, "but it's the truth."

Kate couldn't help but laugh derisively as she looked up at him once she had her emotions in check. "Surely you haven't been living under a rock for the last ten years, Jake; you know what I've done with my life," she said, her black-painted lips curled in a self-loathing scowl.

"I don't care how many weird and crazy powers you have, Katie; you're still human and can make mistakes," he replied. "Yes, I know you've done some awful things, but I also know that now you're trying to make up for it. I saw you on the news with Kim Possible the other day; if she can forgive what you've done to her, I think I can forgive what you've done, too."

This time she didn't bother trying to hide the tear that trickled down her left cheek as her scowl was slowly replaced by a broad smile. "Shut up and give me a hug before I embarrass myself," she laughed as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He reciprocated by enveloping her waist in his arms, both of them laughing like a couple of school kids at recess.

"Kate? Is everything okay?" Anne asked as she approached with a bemused expression on her face.

"Oh, hey Anne," the younger woman replied as the two friends disengaged from each other. "Yeah, everything's more than okay; I just realized that this guy happens to be one of my best friends from when I was a kid… before everything went to shit for me, anyway," she added with a hint of shame.

"Jake Redmond," he said, extending his hand to the neurosurgeon.

"Doctor Anne Possible," she replied as she shook his hand, "nice to meet you."

"Possible; as in Kim Possible?" he asked as they released.

"My daughter," she confirmed with a grin as Kate passed her the beer she'd purchased but failed to deliver, "which is how I met Kate in the first place."

Jake nodded, but made no comment; he saw no need to bring up what they all knew was part of Kate's less-than-proud past. Instead, he turned to his old friend and grinned—much the same way Ron would grin at Kim, Anne noticed—as he spoke. "Let me guess: Kim's too young to go to the bar, you decided you wanted to have a few and didn't want to go alone, so you get your friend's mom to go with you, right?"

"Actually, I did come here by myself; Anne showed up about ten minutes after I got here," the jade-skinned woman replied. "She's meeting some of her friends from work for a girls' night and invited me to join them."

"Speaking of which," the redhead interjected, "one of them just called and said they weren't going to make it, so I guess it's just us. If you're not here with anybody, Jake, you're welcome to join us."

"Thanks for the invitation, but I'm actually with the band," he replied, touching the brim of his hat for emphasis. Looking at his watch, he suddenly stood from his stool. "Speaking of which, I gotta get moving; it's almost showtime."

"Well don't let us hold you up; we'll catch up more after your show's over," Kate said as she picked up her beer.

"I'm holding you to that," he said as he pulled her into another hug; one she readily returned. "God, it's good to see you again," he whispered in her ear.

"I missed you, too, Jake," she replied, watching him return to the stage with a fond smile on her face. Turning back to face Anne, she noticed the bemused smirk the other woman wore and quirked an eyebrow. "What?"

"Small world, huh?" she asked as they made their way back to their table.

"No kidding; I think Jake was about the _last_ person I ever expected to see here," she replied as they took their seats. "After I started down the wrong road, I'd pretty much resigned myself to the fact I'd never see him again."

"What happened to make you two drop out of touch, if I'm not prying too much?"

"Not at all," Kate replied with a quick shake of her head, casting a brief glance at where Jake was double-checking the amplifier for his guitar onstage before continuing. "His dad got a new job the spring of our junior year in a different town and they ended up moving just after final exams. Not long after that was when the comet hit and, well… with everything that happened in my life from that point, we just ended up drifting apart."

Anne suspected there was more to it than that, but decided to let it slide for the time being. "So how close were you two before that happened?"

"He was my Ron," she replied simply. "I really think my life would've turned out differently if he'd never moved away and disappeared from my life for so long… if nothing else, he probably would've talked me out of making a lot of the dumb decisions I've made over the years."

"Like quitting Team Go?"

"God, no; he couldn't stand my brothers any more than I can," Kate chuckled as she took a sip of her beer. "No, he wouldn't have stopped me from quitting Team Go—if anything, he probably would've been helping me move out of there—but he probably would've talked me into doing something more productive with my abilities than I did."

"So Jake was your voice of reason, so to speak?"

"In a way, yeah," Kate nodded. "At the risk of sounding egotistical, I'm not a stupid girl; I just make some pretty boneheaded decisions on the spur of the moment—like working for Drakken—that Jake would've talked me out of if he'd been there."

Anne nodded, but said nothing else as she directed her eyes to the stage, where Jake had just taken his place behind the lead microphone with a Fender Telecaster slung over his shoulder. Kate noticed as well, so rather than try to carry on a conversation over the music, the two women merely settled in to enjoy the show as the drummer counted off the beat to the opening number.

* * *

On a private Gulfstream 550V over the Atlantic Ocean, the man known as Gray sat in a comfortable leather recliner and sipped on a tumbler of scotch as he pondered the day's events. He'd heard from sources in his field that the mercenary bodyguard and cat burglar known as Shego had recently foregone her life of crime, but had taken the information with a grain of salt. Having read and re-read the data provided to him by "Big Daddy" Brotherson, however, he had finally resigned himself to accepting the rumors as fact rather than fiction.

"You look troubled, Mr. Gray," a woman's voice said from behind.

Gray turned in his seat to face the speaker and sighed. "Indeed I am, Miss Sloan; I've learned in my conversation with Mr. Brotherson and through the acquisition of data from him that the rumors regarding Shego are true," he said with a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"So your latest grand scheme's gone out the window?" Sloan asked as she smoothed her skirt and settled into a matching leather recliner across from Gray and crossed her legs, all while glaring condescendingly at her traveling companion.

"Hardly; it just means I have to do some re-thinking," the distinguished-looking man replied with a scowl, "after all; Shego left the hero business once already… what's to say she wouldn't do it again, given the proper persuasion?"

"Perhaps…" she mused simply, trailing off and looking away.

"Is there something that makes you believe she won't?"

"I honestly can't say for sure," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest, "but I've read the information and seen the pictures you acquired from Brotherson and all I see is a woman that, for the first time in her life, is genuinely happy with the way her life's going."

"What's to say my proposal won't make her happier than she already is?"

"She's already been down this road before and didn't like it," Sloan replied, "and has no reason to believe that this time would be any different."

"We both know from her psychological profile that Shego's an adrenaline junkie; always has been. The life she's chosen now won't offer her the same thrills she experienced before and I'm willing to bet that she'll get bored."

Sloan raked her fingers through her shoulder-length blonde hair and sighed. "I don't know if I would call that a safe wager," she replied. "Considering she's recently teamed up with Kim Possible—on a full-time basis, if her choice of attire is any indication—I think she's found herself the best of both worlds."

Pausing for effect, the attractive businesswoman turned and stared directly into Gray's eyes, removing her rimless glasses as she spoke again. "I think you may have finally bitten off more than you can chew this time."

"Oh ye of little faith," Gray chuckled, gazing into his tumbler of scotch and swirling it lightly before downing the amber liquid in one motion. Placing the empty glass on the table beside his chair, he turned his eyes to his traveling companion again. "Shego _will_ rise from the ashes and work for us."

"And if she won't…?"

A humorless grin crossed the man's face as he leaned forward and locked eyes with her. "If she won't work for us, she'll work against us and we can't have that," he said with a sinister voice, "so it only stands to reason that if she refuses my offer, she will have to be eliminated."

"You're crazy," Sloan muttered in disbelief. "You really believe you'll be able to get to Shego without somebody getting in the way? You would do well to remember she's recently made some pretty powerful friends in some pretty high places; Betty Director comes to mind."

Gray scowled; he was well aware of the fact his associate had just mentioned and really didn't need to be reminded. He kept his calm, however, and merely poured himself another two fingers of Glenfiddich. "That just means we'll have to be more creative in our methods," he said as he replaced the cap on the bottle and placed it on the table.

Sloan shifted in her seat and re-crossed her legs as she continued to glare at the man before her. "This infatuation will be your undoing; you do realize that, don't you?" she said. "Shego's not the only game in town."

"Perhaps not, but convincing Shego—excuse me, _Kathryn Gogh—_to work for us would be the crown jewel of my career," he replied, sipping his beverage. "Barring that… serving her head on a platter would suffice as the next best thing; there are many that still haven't forgiven either she or Dr. Drakken for the Bueno Nacho fiasco last spring and would be more than happy to see either one of them—if not both—swinging from the gallows."

"Either way, you come out looking like a hero; either for swinging Shego back to good—in the public's eye, at least—or you finally punish her for all the evil she's wrought on the world," Sloan surmised with a hint of a smirk on her lips. "A noble plan, Mr. Gray, but you still haven't explained how you're going to get that by Global Justice; Kathryn Gogh has been fully exonerated of any affiliation with either Dr. Drakken _or_ Shego. Anything you have—including the documentation you bought from Brotherson earlier—is useless. None of it conclusively ties the two of them together… at least, nothing that would be admissible in court."

"All true, Miss Sloan; I will have to try and find a way to tie the two together and make the world see they're one and the same… only, of course, if we can't convince her to join our little organization."

"Or you could just knock on her door, pitch the idea like you're selling a vacuum cleaner and shoot her in the face if she says no," Sloan quipped.

"While your idea does have its own unique merits, I don't really believe it would be suitable in this particular situation," he retorted dryly. Taking another sip of his drink, he continued. "However, if she proves disagreeable enough, it may be an option worth revisiting."

"Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't just keep my mouth shut," the woman sighed, lightly pinching the bridge of her nose. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and looked at Gray again. "So what's the next step… or do I want to know?"

"I can't say for sure; I will have to discuss this turn of events with my superiors before an action plan can be devised," he replied with a hint of disappointment. "We'll be meeting first thing in the morning; hopefully by the end of the day we'll know how to proceed."

"I can hardly wait," Sloan drawled, her tone of voice indicating anything but.

_

* * *

A/N: Well, it's been a bloody long time coming, but there it is; Chapter One for your reading and reviewing pleasure. I'm going to be brutally honest and come right out and say I'm not overly sure about this one, but after taking as long as I have, this was the best one I could come up with. Some elements of this chapter got written and re-written numerous times before I finally was at least partially satisfied with the final product (I'm still not totally satisfied, but from past experience with _TAY,_ I decided to post this one anyway and let the masses speak)._

_As always; leave a review and get a response!_

_Cheers,_

_Deuce_


	3. Chapter Two

_**STANDARD DISCLAIMER:**__The characters of Kim Possible, Dr. James Timothy Possible, Dr. Anne Possible, Jim and Tim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Wade Load, Steve Barkin, Bonnie Rockwaller, Monique, Tara, Felix Renton, Rufus the Naked Mole Rat, Drew "Dr. Drakken" Lipsky, Shego, Dr. Dementor, Lord Montgomery "Monkey Fist" Fiske, Señor Senior Senior, Señor Senior Junior, Dr. Betty Director, Special Agent Will Du, Global Justice and any and all other minor characters/locations from the television series _Kim Possible_ are the sole property of the Walt Disney Corporation, and are used herein without permission or contest to their ownership for the sole purpose of personal, non-profit entertainment. Any and all minor characters that have not appeared in the television series, and this storyline, are the sole creation and property of the author and may not be reproduced without prior consent (if you want to post it, just ask)._

* * *

_A/N: Well, after much consideration and re-writing and editing, here's Chapter Two for your reading and reviewing pleasure! Since I forgot when I posted the last chapter, I'm going to take a second and recognize those that took the time to read and review up to this point: Katsumara, KP's Man, Sentinel103, Screaming Phoenix, CajunBear73, shana elmsford, XanQenadius, Slipgate, jkrust78, Old Soldier, Reader101w, Yamal, bmwrider, Motofan713, AidanPryde001 and slightlyobsessedHaylz; thank you all for your kind words and for taking the time to post your thoughts. Your continued encouragement are just what this author needs to carry on with the labor of love this story arc has become._

_Now that the touchy-feely stuff's out of the way; on with the story!_

* * *

_**CHAPTER TWO**_

"I still don't know how I let you talk me into watching _The Memopad,"_ Ron groused as he stuffed a handful of popcorn into his mouth and sunk a little deeper into the couch in the Possible den. "You've seen this one already."

"What's wrong with that?" Kim countered as she took a couple of kernels from the large bowl in her boyfriend's lap. "I went to see it with Kate when she was Miss Go, but I still wanted to watch it with you."

"I missed _Bricks of Fury: the Final Brickening_ because of that," he whined, "why can't we watch that instead?"

"Because I told you when we saw _Bricks of Fury IV_ that I was never watching another one," she replied airily, taking a sip of her soda and snuggling closer to him. "Besides," she whispered huskily in his ear, "it could be worth your while later." For added effect, she nibbled seductively on his earlobe and sucked it gently before letting it slip from between her lips.

"Oh, really?" he managed to respond, his breathing and heart rate both accelerated by his girlfriend's actions.

"Mm-hmm," she hummed as her left hand slowly traced down his chest, coming to rest at the top edge of the waistband of his cargos. "It's been almost a week since the last time we spent the night together, and I sleep _so_ much better when you're with me."

"Me too," Ron agreed once regained control of himself. Squeezing his left arm a little tighter around the lithe redhead's shoulders, he kissed her on top of the head. "I guess I can handle watching _The Memopad_ if it makes my KP happy."

"That's my 'Potential Boy'," she giggled, reaching up to caress his cheek. "Now shush; it's just getting to the good part." Both teens fell silent as they returned their attention to the film playing on the massive television before them. It was the first time they'd had a chance to spend some real "alone" time since the night Drakken had been captured and both of them hoped to capitalize on it with dinner (the couple had finally managed to have their date at Muddrakker's after Ron's shift ended) and the movie they were in the process of watching before retiring for the night.

Before either of them knew it, the end credits had started scrolling on the screen. "See, baby?" she said, turning to look up at him again. "That wasn't so bad, now, was it?"

"The movie? There's not enough brain soap in the world to wash that memory away," he answered before looking down to meet her gaze, his trademark lopsided grin on his face, "but two hours of sitting here with you like this more than makes up for it."

"Nice save," she deadpanned as she leaned up to kiss him tenderly. "I think I'll keep you around, despite your horrid taste in movies."

"Booyah," he whispered as he bent down to kiss her again, this time a bit deeper than before. Before they got any further into what could easily have turned into a heavy make-out session (which, in turn, could have turned into the two of them heading for Kim's bedroom), though, they were startled apart by the front door opening and Kim's mother entering.

"Hey Mom," Kim said with a grin as she extracted herself from Ron's grasp and went to meet her mother at the door. "How was your night?"

"Full of unexpected yet pleasant surprises," Anne replied as she kicked her shoes off. "Lacey and Barb couldn't make it, but I ran into Kate and we made a night out of it."

"I would almost pay to see that," the teen heroine chuckled as the two women returned to the living room and sat down; Kim with Ron on the couch and Anne in the easy chair normally occupied by her husband, "my mother and one of my best friends having drinks together at a bar."

"Neither one of us drank that much," the neurosurgeon said, "we were too busy dancing most of the night."

"Well, at least you managed to salvage your night," her daughter said with a grin.

"This is true," Anne agreed with a nod as she pushed her hair out of her face, "but I think the night went better for Kate than it did for me."

"Oh, God," Kim moaned, slapping a hand over her eyes, "please tell me she didn't…"

"No, no; nothing like that," Anne interjected with a wave of her hand as she realized what Kim probably was thinking. "She ran into an old friend she'd fallen out of touch with before she was hit with the comet radiation; when I left they were on their way to a diner up the street to catch up more."

"Didn't they spend all night catching up at the bar?" Ron asked.

"They didn't have much opportunity to talk while we were at the bar; he was with the band."

"So she still left with a guy," Kim surmised with a scowl.

"Kimmie, you have to remember that Kate's a grown woman and can make her own decisions," her mother chided gently, "and considering she described him as 'her Ron', I don't really think there's much to worry about."

"Yeah, I know," Kim sighed as she raked her right hand through her auburn mane, "but she's my friend and I still worry about her… even though I know she's the _last_ person I have to worry about when it comes to that sort of thing."

"Yeah," Ron chimed in, "any dude that tried to put one too many moves on Kate, they'd be one hurting unit by the time she finished with them."

"I think that's a fair assessment, Ron," Anne laughed, "even without the comet powers."

Kim nodded with a pensive expression on her face as she considered something her mother had said. "You said Kate described this guy as her Ron," she finally said, "did she explain what context she meant that?"

"Kind of, but not exactly," she replied with an understanding grin. "I'm paraphrasing, of course, but she basically told me he was her voice of reason when they were teenagers until he moved away, not long before she and her brothers were hit by the comet. She seems to honestly believe that if he hadn't fallen out of touch with her, she never would have taken up the villainous henchwoman lifestyle; she figures he would've talked her into doing something more productive."

"So she wouldn't have left Team Go?"

"Well, that's what I thought when she said that, too, but apparently they were just as hard to live with before they got their powers as they are now," the physician replied. "Don't get me wrong; from what I gathered when she talked about them, I think she still loves her brothers, she just can't handle them for any great amount of time."

"Between Hego's constant prattling about the responsibility they took on when they got their powers and Mego's bloated ego, I can't really say I blame her," Kim said wryly. "The Tweebs are bad enough to deal with, but at least they're not prone to ego trips or speeches about only using their powers for good."

"To be fair, though, the Wego twins aren't that bad," Ron interjected. "They just seem like typical teenagers that just happen to be able to copy themselves."

"Oh yeah, they're definitely easier to handle than Ego and Blowhard," Kim agreed with a nod, "and Kate's said as much, but I don't think they're enough to offset the other two."

"KP, I don't think Mother Teresa would be enough to offset the other two."

"Probably not," she agreed, turning to face her mother again. "So she probably means he's her Ron in the best friend context."

"That's what I gathered, yeah," Anne nodded. "Even though they've been out of touch for ten years, it was obvious they had a special connection; they were talking like no time had passed between them when I left."

Kim cast a loving glance over her shoulder at her boyfriend. "I don't know about you, but I don't want to find out what it would be like to not have you around for ten years," she said, reaching back and placing a hand on his knee.

"Me either," he replied, taking her hand in his and giving it a tender squeeze, "but I think it would probably be the same thing."

"I'd still rather not test that theory," she said dryly, settling into his embrace. "I have every intention of keeping you around for a long time, Mr. Stoppable."

Anne smiled fondly at the two teenagers that she'd watched grow up and together over the years. It never ceased to warm her heart to see the two of them sharing tender moments such as the one she was currently witnessing; she would never admit it to either of them, but she'd always hoped she would see the day when her daughter would recognize how much of a man she had right before her, and she silently rejoiced when that fateful night of the junior prom came about and finally brought them together.

Her moment of reflection was interrupted by Kim's voice. "Hey Mom, are you okay?" she asked.

Blinking, the elder redhead chuckled softly as she met Kim's gaze. "Sorry, Kimmie; got lost in thought and zoned out, I guess," she said. Stifling a yawn, she rose from the recliner and approached the two teens, bending down to kiss each of them on the cheek. "I'm gonna take that as a hint and go to bed now; I'll see you both in the morning?"

"You bet," Ron replied with a grin.

"Good," she said, smiling warmly at both of them. "Good night, you two."

"Night, Mom."

"Night, Anne."

As the two of them watched the elder redhead's receding form, Kim turned to Ron with a bemused smirk. "I still have a hard time grasping the fact you're on a first-name basis with my parents," she said with a shake of her head.

"What's so hard to grasp about it?" he asked as they rose to their feet. "She's the one that started it, after all; besides, Mom and Dad want you to start, too."

"I know," she sighed, "but your parents have been Mr. and Mrs. Stoppable to me for so long, it's a hard habit to break."

Ron nodded as they made their way to the staircase. "Yeah, I still have to remind myself, but the look on your mom's face every time I call her by her first name helps."

"Just wait till she asks you to call her 'Mom'," she quipped, pinching his backside with a mischievous giggle.

An almost horrified expression crossed his face, stopping him cold halfway up the stairs. "What're you getting at? Did she say she was gonna ask me to start calling her 'Mom'? I'm not ready for that yet!" he babbled, overreacting in his own unique way. "You're not supposed to call your girlfriend's mother 'Mom'!"

"Ron, calm down," Kim said, placing a soothing hand on her boyfriend's cheek. "She made a wisecrack about it when I asked her about you being on a first-name basis, but she wasn't serious; even she said it was too early for that."

The towheaded teen exhaled a sigh of relief as they continued up the stairs, side-by-side. "Guess I kinda overreacted there, huh?" he chuckled wryly.

"It's okay, baby; I'm used to it," she replied with a teasing wink as they climbed the wrought-iron staircase to her loft bedroom. "Now, come on; let's go to bed."

Responding with only a smile, Ron followed her the rest of the way up the wrought-iron staircase and into her bedroom, pausing just long enough to close and lock the trap door while Kim went into the adjacent bathroom and started brushing her teeth. That done, he peeled his shirt over his head and draped it over his shoulder as he stepped up alongside her and retrieved his toothbrush from the cup on the edge of the sink.

Kim couldn't help but watch her boyfriend's reflection in the mirror as she continued brushing. While there was nothing overly sexy or arousing about somebody brushing their teeth, the act of sharing that moment with him, standing side-by-side at the sink, just seemed that much more domestic; the sort of moment she could easily see the two of them sharing just about every night for many years to come… provided, of course, things kept going the way they appeared to be. Smiling to herself, she finished brushing and rinsing before leaving Ron to finish as she returned to the bedroom to get ready for bed.

Ron finished not long after Kim and returned to the bedroom, just in time to see his girlfriend remove her underwear and toss them into the clothes hamper, climbing into bed wearing just the gold chain and locket he'd given her for her birthday. Blinking a couple of times, the young man merely stared at her, unsure of what to say. "KP?" he finally managed to stammer after a few attempts.

Kim smiled both lovingly and just a little seductively at him as she watched him slowly digest what he'd just seen. "Ron, I know you gave me your football jersey and one of your red jerseys for nightshirts, but after the last night we spent together, I only want to feel you against me," she whispered, "not cotton or polyester."

Her voice seemed to snap him out of his trance as the deer-in-the-headlights look he wore slowly morphed into a smile. "And here I thought I was the only one," he murmured as he tossed his shirt into the hamper, the rest of his clothes soon joining it before he slid under the covers; Kim immediately snuggling tight to him before he'd even had a chance to settle in. "Yup, could definitely get used to this," he commented as he wrapped his left arm around Kim's shoulders and pulled her that much tighter against him, their bodies seeming to mold together perfectly.

"You and me both," she replied softly, settling her head on his shoulder and running her left hand tenderly across his chest, letting it come to rest on his deltoid muscle. "I love you, baby."

"I love you too, Kim," he whispered, turning to gaze into the shining emerald orbs that stared back up at him.

"Then come here and kiss me," she said as she gently pulled on his right shoulder, rolling him onto his side to face her and claiming his mouth with hers. He responded by wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close, their legs intertwining as the kiss slowly deepened. Rather than stop when he was facing her on his side, Ron continued to roll them over until he was lying on top of her, supporting his weight on his elbows but keeping his body in contact with hers; Kim responded with a low, soft moan as she ran her hands through his unruly hair.

Before long, the two had to break the kiss they'd been sharing in order to catch their breath a bit. Ron leaned back just far enough to gaze into Kim's eyes, his right hand brushing a couple of stray hairs from her face as he rested his forehead against hers. "Hey there, beautiful," he whispered, kissing the tip of her nose lightly.

"Hey yourself, handsome," she replied, smiling warmly at him as she ran her hands along his back and sides before slipping her right hand between their bodies and gently curling it around what was quickly becoming one of her favorite parts of her boyfriend's anatomy; one that was very obviously reacting to their present situation. "And just what do you plan on doing with this?" she teased with a playful twinkle in her eye, squeezing just a little for emphasis.

Ron's eyes almost involuntarily crossed at the pressure she applied. "Um, well…" he stammered, unsure of how to answer her question.

"I have an idea," she whispered huskily as she adjusted her position beneath him and raised her hips slightly, allowing him to easily join with her.

"I like the way you think," he replied as he followed her lead.

Kim responded with a long, low moan and opened her eyes again as the union was completed, gazing deeply into Ron's dark-brown ones with a desire he'd never seen before etched on her face. "I thought you might," she murmured, cradling his face in her hands as they started moving together. In complete contrast to their first time, they had no trouble finding a pace that was comfortable for both of them; their movements much more natural and relaxed as they enjoyed each other.

One lesson they'd learned from their first time was the fact that the journey is every bit as important as the destination; maybe even more so. With that knowledge, they were able to find ways to make their voyage that much more enjoyable; their hands, mouths and voices all contributing to enhancing the overall atmosphere.

Afterwards, the young lovers lay cuddling; again with Ron on his back and Kim nestled against his left side, her arm draped across his midriff and her head resting on his shoulder, their bodies covered in a light sheen of sweat. Kim purred contentedly as she settled into his warm embrace, lightly kissing his neck as he squeezed his arm gently around her shoulders. "I love you, baby," she whispered softly, snuggling just a little tighter to him and closing her eyes.

"Love you too, KP," he replied as his eyes slowly closed. Before long both were sound asleep with content smiles on their faces.

* * *

While two life-long friends were settling in for peaceful slumber, two reunited friends were catching up on lost time over coffee and a light snack at an all-night diner. Even though it had been ten years since they had last seen each other, neither Kate nor Jake had any problem picking up where they left off. The biggest challenge—for Kate, anyway—was explaining what led her to her old life and how she finally managed to extract herself from it, make a clean break and start fresh legitimately.

"…so I finally had enough of Kieran and his idiotic sense of righteousness; without Mom or Dad around to help me keep my sanity, I just kinda went into a tailspin and made it on the news for all the wrong reasons," she said with a shrug and a hint of regret. "Thanks to Kim and her connections, I was able to pull out of it and go straight and, well… here I am today."

"Wow, Katie… I'm sorry about your parents; I had no idea," Jake said, shaking his head sadly. "What happened?"

Another sad sigh escaped Kate's lips as she remembered getting the news. "It was their anniversary," she said, "and they decided to go see the Go City Philharmonic and have a nice dinner. They were walking home when a guy Dad put away thirty years ago recognized him and jumped them; it was all over the Go _Gazette_ when it happened: 'Released Criminal Murders Arresting Officer and Wife'."

Jake just shook his head again as he looked at his sandwich. "I know it's been the better part of ten years, but I'm gonna exercise my best friend license and say this: it's no wonder you went down the road you went down."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean, Jake?" she snapped, mildly offended by his comment. If it'd been anybody else besides him—and maybe Kim, now—that made the comment, she likely would've punched them between the eyes right there. As it was, she shot him a dirty look; mildly impressed when his gaze never wavered. _Even after all this time, I still can't give him the stink eye and make him flinch,_ she thought as she watched him take a bite of his sandwich.

"Katie, we both know your older brothers are idiots," he began once he'd swallowed his mouthful of smoked beef on rye, "and I'm sure your parents were the only thing that kept you sane when you moved into that monstrosity on the lake. Without them around, it was only a matter of time before you had to get out of there; hell, I'm surprised you didn't kill Kevin on your way out."

"If he hadn't shrunk down to the size of an ant and hid somewhere—he still hasn't told me where—I think I would've," she replied with a wry grin. "Jake, I know I've said this before and it's been too long since the last time I did, but you know me too well for my own good; you know that?"

He laughed as he picked up his coffee and took a sip. "Yeah, I know," he said, putting the last of his sandwich into his mouth.

"So tell me something," Kate said as she watched him chew, "what've you been doing these last ten years? I mean, you know pretty well everything I've done—if you don't, there are enough news articles online you can fill in the blanks with—but you haven't told me what you've done with yourself."

"I was wondering when we were gonna get to that," he chuckled, sipping his coffee. "Well, it goes without saying that my life hasn't been anywhere near as eventful as yours—"

"No kidding," she interjected.

"—and, since there aren't any news articles about me, I guess I should probably fill you in," he continued, ignoring Kate's outburst. "We moved to Upperton from Go City and I graduated from Upperton High School; I took a year and worked while I thought about what I wanted to do for a living and started college the next fall."

"So what're you doing now? When you're not playing in a bar band, that is."

"I decided to major in Forensics when I was a freshman—thought I wanted to be the next Nick Stokes and the _CSI _kick was in full force at the time—but by the time graduation day came around, I decided that wasn't for me."

"You always were the science nut," Kate commented with a nod, "but if you didn't go into Forensics by trade, what else could you do with a Bachelor's degree in it?"

He chuckled as he swirled his coffee cup around, watching the liquid slosh about. "I decided I wanted to be closer to the action, so I signed up to the Upperton Police Academy… I'm a cop."

A confused expression crossed Kate's face as she registered what he'd just said. "Hang on a minute," she said, holding a hand up in a "halt" gesture. "How does the son of a business exec and an accountant come out as a cop?"

Jake gazed for a long moment at his rediscovered friend across the table before he answered. "Your dad," he finally said softly. "I remember how much we both looked up to him when we were kids; out there helping people, catching the bad guys and putting them where they couldn't hurt anybody anymore… I wanted to have a part in making the streets of my town that much safer."

"Are you still uniform?"

He shook his head in the negative. "No, I went plainclothes about three months ago; one of the detectives took a desk job and I moved up on merit," he replied, shrugging slightly. "Only difference is I get to wear blue jeans to work instead of a uniform and a slightly bigger paycheck… just enough to make the IRS love me that much more."

"I bet," Kate laughed as she drained her coffee cup and put it down in front of her. She was silent for a moment as she stared at the white porcelain mug; when she finally spoke again, it was in a low voice that Jake almost had to strain to hear. "Y'know, before everything went to shit and I ended up on the wrong side, I wanted to be a cop like Dad, too," she said, her fingers idly toying with the handle of the coffee cup.

"So what's stopping you now?" Jake countered, his gaze never leaving his friend, even as she kept her eyes diverted from him, taking feigned interest in the cup before her. "Katie, I can tell you first-hand that any force would love to have you carrying their badge."

"That ship's sailed, Jake," she said, shaking her head as she looked at him. "Sure, a chief or a captain would love the idea of having somebody like me on their force, but what's to say one of the officers didn't suffer because of something I'd done? Or worse, what about the civilians in that force's jurisdiction? How many of them would trust somebody that's been on the news actively breaking laws without any sign of remorse or guilt? I'd be lucky to only have to deal with one lynch mob a night."

"I see your point," he said, nodding. "So if that career's off the table, what other options do you have?"

"One thing I did manage to do between leaving my brothers and teaming up with Drakken was get a Childhood Development degree with a Psych minor; when Electronique zapped us and turned me into a simpering goody-goody, I used it to hide from the boys as a teacher in Middleton."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"In a way, yeah; I have an interview at Middleton High tomorrow afternoon to teach algebra and introductory trig in September," she replied with a lopsided grin. "Quite a switch from global domination, huh?"

Jake could merely gape at his dearest friend for several heartbeats, after which he erupted in hearty laughter. "As long as I've known you, the _last_ thing I would've ever pictured you doing was teaching high school!" he gasped, running a hand over his face as his laughter subsided. "I'm sorry, Katie; I'm really not laughing at you, it's just 'teacher' is not a career that comes to mind when I think of you."

Despite his reaction, Kate laughed, too. "It's okay, Jake; if you'd asked me fifteen years ago what I was gonna do with my life, teacher was definitely _not_ an answer I would've given," she said, running her left hand through her hair. As she did, she glanced at her watch, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw the time. "Holy crap, is it really four AM?" she exclaimed.

"It is," he confirmed, looking at his own watch. Rising from his seat, he withdrew a rumpled wad of bills from his pants pocket and looked at the single check the waitress had left on the table. "As much as I'd like to sit here and catch up until the sun comes up, I should really get home and try to get a little sleep; I've got second shift tomorrow… or today, depending how you look at it," he added, stifling a yawn.

"Okay, now you're just trying to make me feel bad for keeping you out all night," Kate teased as she slid out of her seat and started rummaging in her purse. "Well, it ain't gonna happen; you're a big boy and you can make your own decisions."

"No guilt trips, Katie; unlike some people, I take responsibility for my own actions," he replied, peeling a couple of bills from a rumpled wad he'd taken from his pocket. "That'll cover the check; you got the tip this time?"

"Only if you stick to that instead of insisting on paying _every_ time we go somewhere," she groused as he squared up the bill with the waitress. "I'm pretty sure I missed about six turns if you count when we were kids."

"I'll try to remember, but only if you promise it won't take another ten years for the next time to come," he replied as she put the tip on the table.

"I don't think that'll be a problem; just remember to give me your phone number," she said as they made their way to their vehicles.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Jake withdrew his phone and passed it to her as he fished his keys from another pocket. "Here, just program your number into my phone and give me yours," he said. "That's just as easy."

"Fair enough," she replied, pulling her phone from her purse and handing it to him as she accepted his. The two quickly added their information to each other's phones and returned them, each with a broad smile on their faces. "There; now there are no excuses to fall out of touch again," she said as she returned her phone to her purse and extracted her car key, "unless I keep you out too many nights when you have to work the next day and die of exhaustion."

"I'm a cop, Katie; getting through a shift on willpower and caffeine is nothing new," he replied, unlocking his pickup and opening the door. "It just means I have to super-size when I get my morning coffee."

"Either way I'm gonna try to not make a habit out of it."

"Greatly appreciated," he chuckled. "So I'll give you a shout after I get off work?"

"I won't forgive you if you don't," she replied with a twinkle in her eye. "Now, I just have one last question before we part ways for the night."

"Ask away."

"_King of the Hill?"_ she asked with an eyebrow quirked incredulously, her arms folded across her chest. "You open your encore with the theme song to _King of the Hill?"_

"It's called 'Yahoos and Triangles', Katie; and yes, we open the encore with it," he said. "It was one of the first songs we played together as a group and we decided it would be a neat way to open the encore… not to mention it's always a crowd pleaser."

"I noticed," she replied dryly, remembering the cheers from the crowd. "Anyway, you look like you're about dead on your feet and you have to work later; come here and give me another hug and go home," she said, holding her arms open and approaching him, "we'll talk again later."

"Okay, Katie," he said as he accepted and reciprocated the hug, "drive safe; I'll talk to you later."

"I'm looking forward to it," she replied as they separated and he climbed into his pickup. Going around to the driver's side of her car, she stood and watched Jake's late-model Ford pickup pulled into traffic before finally climbing into her car with a grin; one that was quickly overtaken by a yawn that threatened to dislocate her jaw. _Guess he's not the only one that's beyond tired tonight,_ she thought as she started her car and made her way back to the Global Justice complex.

* * *

Savannah Tucker's mood was certainly not one anybody would mistake for cheerful as she was escorted between two guards from her cell at the Colorado Springs detention center. Clad in a stereotypical orange jumpsuit and fitted with handcuffs and leg irons, the twenty-six year old woman was on her way to a date with a team of US Marshals tasked with the assignment of transporting her from her current temporary lodgings to a more permanent home at the Federal Correctional Institution in Dublin, California, where she was slated to await trial.

She barely noticed the path they took as her escorts guided her through the corridors of the holding facility; the myriad twists and turns from her cell to the prisoner shipping and receiving area all blending together as they traversed them. It was only when they crossed the threshold of one door and outside that she bothered taking notice of her surroundings… namely the unmarked, black Chevrolet cargo van that stood by itself in the yard and the two US Marshals waiting by the side doors.

All in all, it was a pretty standard prisoner pickup; as soon as they noticed the prisoner being led through the doors, the male marshal opened the van's side door and withdrew a set of aluminum steps designed to allow a shackled prisoner to climb into the vehicle without removing the restraints. Meanwhile, the female marshal approached one of the guards and handed him a clipboard that bore a release form, transferring custody of the prisoner from the Colorado Springs Detention Center to the US Marshals; at the same time, she signed a form the guard passed her to confirm that custody had been transferred and the prisoner had been collected by the marshals, thereby clearing the Colorado Springs jail of any responsibility concerning the inmate in question.

The entire handover from the prison guards to the marshals might have taken a minute and a half; probably less, by Tucker's estimation. Once the forms were filled out, the female marshal took her by the elbow and led her to the van, where she helped her board before climbing in behind her; her partner put the steps back into the van and closed the door as soon as the way was clear. Turning to the two guards that stood and watched them, he touched the bill of his cap and went around to the driver's door and climbed in. Moments later, the vehicle pulled away, through the compound's gates and into the early morning traffic.

Barely five minutes out of the prison, the marshal sitting beside the prisoner smiled. "We're not who you think we are, Miss Tucker," she said mysteriously.

Tucker glared balefully at the woman and scowled. "What the fuck are you talking about?" she snarked. "You're a marshal and I'm headed for Dublin; sounds pretty straightforward to me."

"See, that's who you _think_ we are," the woman replied. "In reality, we're your ticket to freedom… or, at least, we can be."

"I'm listening," Tucker said warily.

The "marshal" adjusted herself in her seat before speaking again. "Well, you probably knew that you actually _were_ scheduled to be moved to Dublin this morning, but we—_diverted,_ if you will—your scheduled escorts for this morning and replaced them; we feel that your talents would be better served helping our organization than they would locked in prison."

"And just what 'organization' do you represent?"

"All will be answered when we arrive at our destination, but first we have to get you out of your less-than-fashionable jumpsuit and those horrid accessories," the woman said as she left her seat and approached Tucker, a handcuff key in her right hand.

"So how do you know I'm not gonna turn the tables on you as soon as you take my jewelry off?"

Her mysterious benefactor merely smirked. "You're outnumbered and outgunned three to one and in a van traveling seventy miles an hour on the interstate… you tell me how I'm sure."

Tucker chuckled as her ankles were freed. "Fair enough," she said, "but just out of curiosity, what happened to my 'scheduled escorts'?"

This time the woman actually laughed as she removed the handcuffs. "Our technical department hacked the US Marshal's assignment department and re-assigned them to patrol a flight to Boston; they should be sitting at Logan right about now, trying to figure out why they haven't got a return-flight assignment."

"Nice," Tucker laughed as she rubbed her chafed wrists. As she watched the other woman start withdrawing items of clothing—which she assumed were for her to change into—from a duffel bag, she voiced the next obvious question that was weighing on her mind. "So now for the sixty-four-thousand dollar question… why would anybody go through all this effort just to spring me from the Crowbar Hotel? I know you don't work for anybody I know or associated with."

The other woman smiled sympathetically as she handed Tucker the clothes and closed the partition leading to the cab area of the van, effectively giving the liberated prisoner some privacy. "Afraid I can't answer that one for you either, Miss Tucker; you'll just have to wait until we get to where we're going and your questions will be answered then."

"Nothing like keeping a girl in suspense," Tucker proclaimed flatly as she quickly changed from her jumpsuit into the surprisingly-stylish jeans and blouse she'd been supplied.

"Yeah, that's how it was when they picked me up, too; stuck in the back of a van for a six-hour drive to an office building in Albuquerque where some dude that you don't know from Adam gives you the choice to either work for him or go back to prison."

"Weird place to set up shop," Tucker commented wryly as she re-tied her sneakers and settled into her seat again. "What's in Albuquerque that makes it so appealing?"

"Absolutely nothing, which is _exactly_ why it's so appealing. Aside from having to worry about illegals getting across the border from Mexico, pretty much the entire state is one big snore… but then again, you knew that; having been right on the border with your old employer."

Tucker's eyes narrowed suspiciously at the woman seated across from her. "How did you know about that?" she asked.

"Oh, we know all about you… _Peregrine,"_ she answered with a knowing smirk. "Why else do you think we picked you to join us?"

"You've certainly got me at a disadvantage," Tucker said with a scowl. She knew she shouldn't have been surprised these people knew who she was and why she was in prison, but it still rattled her to have the woman seated beside her address her by her pseudonym. "I don't have the first clue who you are or why you want me; but it seems like you know me right down to my blood type."

"O-positive," she retorted with a smirk before turning serious again. "I'm sorry we can't tell you more right now—like I said, it was the same when they picked me up—but trust me, the end will justify the means; both for us and for you."

Understanding how less-than-mainstream organizations sometimes worked, Tucker nodded and leaned back in her seat in an attempt to get more comfortable. "Just wake me up when we get where we're going," she muttered as she closed her eyes, settling in for the trip ahead.

* * *

_A/N: Okay, I know this chapter's pretty short by my standards, but I figured this was a good spot to end it. Not much happening here aside from a little reconnection between reunited friends and the return of someone that I don't think any of our heroes will be happy to see; if and when their paths cross again._

_Oh, and for those that are wondering; the theme song to _King of the Hill_ is really titled "Yahoos and Triangles."_

_As always, leave a review and get a response!_

_Cheers,  
Deuce _


	4. Chapter Three

_**STANDARD DISCLAIMER:**__The characters of Kim Possible, Dr. James Timothy Possible, Dr. Anne Possible, Jim and Tim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Wade Load, Steve Barkin, Bonnie Rockwaller, Monique, Tara, Felix Renton, Rufus the Naked Mole Rat, Drew "Dr. Drakken" Lipsky, Shego, Dr. Dementor, Lord Montgomery "Monkey Fist" Fiske, Señor Senior Senior, Señor Senior Junior, Dr. Betty Director, Special Agent Will Du, Global Justice and any and all other minor characters/locations from the television series_Kim Possible_are the sole property of the Walt Disney Corporation, and are used herein without permission or contest to their ownership for the sole purpose of personal, non-profit entertainment. Any and all minor characters that have not appeared in the television series, and this storyline, are the sole creation and property of the author and may not be reproduced without prior consent (if you want to post it, just ask)._

* * *

_A/N: Yeah, it's been awhile coming, but finally—just when I'm sure some were about ready to give up on me ever updating—here's Chapter Three for your reading and reviewing pleasure. Thanks to Sentinel103, Lefty11, Yamal, Katsumara, XanQenadius, CajunBear73, Reader101w, jkrust78, Sk8ingLemur, slightlyobsessedHaylz, KP's Man and sistergrimm97 for reviewing last chapter; your continued encouragement and support are just the fuel my creative fire needs to keep stoked._

* * *

_**CHAPTER THREE**_

Two black Lincoln Town Cars weaved their way through the midday Albuquerque traffic, going largely unnoticed by the majority of the commuters on the city streets. While earth-shattering, headline-making news hardly ever happened in New Mexico's largest city, corporate VIP's were a regular feature; making a miniature convoy of luxury cars with black-tinted windows a common sight—especially when they were seen pulling into the underground parking of a corporate complex.

If the identity of one of the second car's passengers had been known, however, it could have been a different story.

"Welcome to your new headquarters, Savannah," the woman seated beside the newly-liberated Savannah Tucker—aka Peregrine—said as the two cars pulled to a stop inside the parking garage, "should you choose to join us, anyway."

"Considering the way you were talking when you first picked me up, I can't really see myself having much choice in the matter," Tucker scoffed in reply as they disembarked. "Last time I checked, jail-breakers aren't exactly well-received by the guards if they get picked up again."

The other woman smirked knowingly. "You're getting the idea," she said as they boarded an elevator, "just don't make up your mind until you hear all the details from our boss. I've seen others take the offer just so they didn't have to face a return to the clink; even though they weren't really up for the assignment they were offered."

"Do I dare ask what happened?"

"Let's just say their contracts were revoked rather quickly."

Tucker nodded, but said nothing else as the elevator doors opened at the twelfth floor. She followed her escorts off the elevator and through a few hallways to a set of double oak doors at the end of one in particular, where they stopped.

"Here we are," the woman that had accompanied her said as she opened the right-hand door. "This is where we part company and all your questions will finally be answered."

"Thanks," Tucker said awkwardly as she stepped across the threshold and into the large office.

Her mind barely registered the heavy wooden door swinging shut behind her as she took in her surroundings. While the room's décor was fairly Spartan; the mahogany desk, oak-paneled walls, plush carpeting on the floor and leather chairs suggested the room's regular inhabitant carried a flair for the luxurious.

As she scanned the room, her attention was suddenly drawn by the high-backed leather chair behind the desk swiveling around to face her, revealing its occupant to her at the same time. Even seated, she could tell he was easily over six feet tall; his upright posture, silver hair and charcoal suit giving him a distinguished appearance.

A broad, welcoming smile broke across his features as he laid eyes on the young woman standing at the far end of his office. "Ah, Miss Tucker; I'm so glad you could join us this afternoon," he said warmly, rising and motioning to one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Please, do come in and have a seat."

"You guys really have me at a disadvantage," the young woman said as she took the seat to her left, her gaze never leaving her host's as he sat back down. "You know who I am, everything about me and what I've done, yet I don't have the slightest clue who the hell you are or why you went to all the trouble of busting me out of the joint."

"Fear not, Miss Tucker; all questions will be answered for you before you leave this office," he replied. "Before we begin, can I get you something to drink: water, coffee, tea… something stronger, perhaps?"

"Just some answers will be fine," she retorted, crossing her arms and legs and glaring at him. "How about we start with this so-called 'organization' and why it saw fit to so generously commute my sentence?"

"I suspected you would want to get right down to business," he said with a nod.

"You're goddamned right I do," she spat. "I don't know of too many organizations that would go to all the trouble of hacking a government website—especially not the US Marshals—and re-arrange a schedule so they can stand in and break a prisoner out from under the jail's nose. I figure you're either a black ops branch of the government… or you've got more money than you know what to do with, in which case I don't know why you would want me in the first place."

"Very well, then," he said, rising from his seat. "To answer what I assume is the most burning aspect of your query—are we government or not?—no, we are not affiliated with the United States Government in any way, shape or form." Wandering over to a liquor cabinet, he paused long enough to pour himself a snifter of brandy from an expensive-looking crystal decanter before continuing his speech. "We are, however, an organization deeply vested in the capitalistic interests of several independent contractors."

A snide chuckle escaped Tucker's throat. "So what you're saying is you're a bunch of high-priced mercenaries to the criminal underworld, is that it?"

"That would be one way to put it," he growled under his breath, adjusting his tie as he fought to maintain his composure. "I prefer to look at it as a premium-quality service provider to individuals outside the mainstream corporate sector."

"Yeah, yeah; polish a turd and it's still a turd… can we get to the point?"

"Very well," the man grumbled as he returned to the desk and put his brandy down. "You've been selected to join our organization for one main reason, your abilities and skill set aside: your physical resemblance to—and your knowledge of—one Miss Kathryn Shavaun Gogh, alias Shego."

"Shego?" she repeated with a raised eyebrow. "Everything I know about her is just what I read up about her on the internet; it's not like I'm an all-knowing power on the subject."

"Perhaps not, but it's been well-known fact amongst several circles that you used Shego as your inspiration when you left the Go City Police Department," he said evenly as he sat down behind the desk and rested his elbows on the polished surface, steepling his hands before him. "Many have commented your fighting styles—lack of comet-induced plasma powers notwithstanding—are eerily similar.

"It is also well-known amongst those same circles that Shego has effectively renounced her villainous ways by teaming up with Kim Possible and Global Justice, helping them to capture her former employer once and for all… dragging both you and the Phoenix Corporation down along with him," he continued, a sinister grin starting to cross his lips. "We believe that not only can you help us achieve our goals, but we can help you avenge your incarceration and the tragic death of your former employer."

"Hey, that asshole Hawk brought that on himself," she retorted, "but anything that'll help me get back at that Possible bitch for getting me locked away, I'm game for."

"As I suspected," the man said with a pleased grin as he retrieved a half-inch thick sheaf of papers and placed it in front of her. "Of course, we do have certain terms and conditions that potential employees must be willing to meet before we can take them under our employ; everything you need to know is documented in this contract."

"So what happens if I decide I don't particularly care for these so-called 'terms and conditions' that are in this contract? I'm not gonna sign my life away to be somebody's slave, y'know."

"Oh, we're certainly not in the business of recruiting slaves; you will have ample free time to do as you please—in fact we encourage you to take full advantage of your free time in ways you enjoy—however we do ask you to be available within twenty-four hours' notice, with few exceptions. Should you decide, however, that you don't agree with the terms and conditions of the contract—which are non-negotiable, I'm afraid—then you will be returned to the facility from whence you came in a most unpleasant manner."

"Is that the five-dollar-word version of 'say no and we beat the living fuck out of you before we dump you on the front doorstep of the prison we sprung you from'?" Tucker scoffed.

"I've never quite heard it put that way before," he chuckled lightly. "That's a little more extreme than what we would do, however we would be sure to demonstrate our displeasure in your refusal."

Tucker nodded, but said nothing else as she continued to read through the contract. Her expression darkened as she took in the finality of the language within the document, prompting her next question. "The more I read this, the more I wonder if there's any way to get out of this outfit alive," she commented with a scowl. "The way some of this shit's worded, it looks like a 'termination of contract' is pretty much the same thing as a thirty-ought-six round to the left temple."

"Again, our methods aren't _quite_ that severe," he replied, leaning back in his chair with his fingers steepled in front of him. "While treachery and betrayal are dealt with in a most severe fashion, we do permit our agents to retire when they are no longer able to carry out their assigned tasks efficiently."

"What if somebody doesn't like the job and just plain wants to leave?"

"You may not have come to that part of the contract yet, but it clearly states that all employment contracts with our organization are lifetime in duration, terminable only by death. Retirement is permitted, although there are certain aspects of the contract that remain bound to you even on retirement."

"So if I want to quit, I'm dead?"

"As I said, all our contracts are _lifetime_ in duration," he repeated with a malevolent grin—which would be better described as a grimace—suggesting no humor in his statement. "We do, however, employ whatever measures necessary to keep our employees happy. For instance; have you had a chance to review the salary portion of the contract?"

"That's a shit-ton of zeroes," she confirmed.

"Just one of the perks of working for us," he said, reiterating part of his sales pitch. "Not only are our employees—especially our specialists, as you would be classified—well-compensated for their employment, but we also offer ample reset time following an assignment and the freedom to come and go as you please. All we ask in return for that is that you are always reachable and able to return for assignment within twenty-four hours of being contacted."

Tucker sat silent for a long moment, staring at the bottom of the contract's last page; the blank line where she would affix her signature if she agreed to the terms and conditions staring back at her as she mulled over what the man in front of her had just said. Finally, she looked up at him again, only to see he was holding an expensive-looking fountain pen towards her with an expectant expression on his face. "You almost look like you know whether or not I've made up my mind," she quipped.

"Nobody has ever been in this office with a contract in front of them this long without signing," he replied simply with a knowing grin.

Tucker met his gaze with a steady one of her own. Finally, after an almost unbearable pause, she slowly leaned forward and placed the contract on the desk before accepting the pen. Signing her name along the line with a flourish, she placed the pen on the document and looked up at him, meeting his gaze again, albeit this time with a small smile on her face. "Who am I to break from tradition?" she quipped.

"As I suspected you wouldn't," he said as he rose, prompting her to do the same. Extending his hand to her, he added with a grin, "Welcome aboard, Miss Tucker."

"Thanks," she said, "Mr.—?"

"You can call me Gray," he said.

* * *

Major Steve Barkin, USMC (ret'd.), vice-principal of Middleton High School, sat in his office with a résumé in his hands, re-reading it and its accompanying reference letters to ensure he was clear in his understanding of the applicant before they were scheduled to arrive in—his eyes flicked briefly to his watch—five minutes. As he took in the applicant's history and qualifications, he couldn't help but sense a hint of familiarity with the subject matter… almost as if he'd read this particular résumé before.

His train of thought was derailed by the telephone on his desk ringing. "Yes?"

"Mr. Barkin; your two o'clock appointment is here," the voice on the other end said.

_Punctual,_ he thought with a small, approving grin. "Thank you, Mrs. Klein; send her in," he said gruffly, disconnecting the call.

Precisely thirty seconds later Barkin understood why the résumé he'd been studying seemed so familiar as a statuesque, raven-haired beauty appeared in his doorway, professionally and immaculately dressed in a black skirt-suit, white blouse, black hose and black pumps and her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail with a discreet hair elastic. Even so, there was no denying the familiar, mint-green hue to her skin or the piercing emerald-green of her eyes. "Hello, Steve," she said evenly as she pushed the door closed behind her.

It took a couple of attempts before the one-time jarhead found his voice again. "Sarah Go?" he managed to stammer. "What're you doing here? According to this, I'm supposed to be interviewing a Kathryn Gogh for a teaching position, not you."

Kate sighed; this was going to be every bit as difficult as she'd feared. "Steve, I _am_ Kathryn Gogh," she said as she smoothed her skirt and sat down across from the administrator, crossing her legs as she continued to speak. "When we met a few months ago, I wasn't myself and was afraid for my life; I dug up one of my fake identities and used it to get a job here while I was hiding from my brothers and the villain that had messed with our minds." Opening the briefcase she'd been carrying, she extracted a sheet of paper and passed it across to him. "This will explain everything."

Barkin accepted the letter and glanced at it, his eyes flickering immediately to the name at the bottom. "Doctor E. Director, COO of Global Justice?" he read aloud. "You've already got a reference letter from her; why are you giving me another one?"

"It's not a reference letter, Steve; just read it and you'll understand."

They sat in silence for the next two minutes as Barkin read the letter from Dr. Director, which explained the… _unusual_ set of circumstances that had befallen Kate over the previous few months. When he finished, he placed the letter on his desk and sat back again, breathing a long sigh before speaking. "So let me get this straight," he began, "you came here to hide from your brothers when this Electronique character zapped you and reversed your personality, and left again when you all got put back to normal. Now you're leaving that old lifestyle behind and you're looking for a job by which to make an honest living; is that it in a nutshell?"

Kate nodded, her gaze never wavering from Barkin's. "That sums it up pretty well, yeah," she said.

"Only in Middleton," he muttered under his breath, leaning ahead to rest his elbows on his desk and his chin atop his clasped hands, a pensive gaze etched on his features as he considered how best to continue. Finally, he took a deep breath and lowered his forearms to the desk as he prepared to speak.

"Your qualifications are good and I already know you can be a damn fine teacher, so that's not my problem," he began, his gaze again locking with hers. "My problem lies in the fact that I'm sitting here interviewing a convicted felon—that's already been employed here under false pretenses—to be part of a team responsible for the education and safety of almost twelve-hundred high school students, regardless of how many letters of recommendation, pardons and vouchers you've brought along to build your case. You might have a clean record now, but all it's going to take for this situation to turn into a publicity and logistical nightmare is one student recognizing who you are and pointing it out to their parents, who in turn come to us and then to the media when they realize we were aware when we hired you."

"You and I both know that argument doesn't hold any more water than one of Drakken's world conquest schemes," Kate replied, her eyes cold and hard as she glared at Barkin. "You said it yourself, I have a clean record; there's nothing there that makes me ineligible for this job and unless you can prove you found a better candidate based on either experience or qualifications, not giving me the job would be tantamount to discrimination… or is that the real reason you've got your boxers in a bunch?"

"This isn't personal, if that's what you're getting at," he said, "but I would still like to talk about that afterwards, if you'll let me."

It was her turn to sigh when she realized that the subject she'd wanted to simply avoid was going to come up anyway. "Fair enough," she said, resigning herself to her fate.

"As for the argument I offered, that wasn't because I was in the process of informing you that you wouldn't be hired on those grounds—as you said, that's discrimination—but just to make you aware of what you might be facing if you do accept the position. There are people out there that, regardless of how many pardons and recommendations you come with, will only see the stigma that you carry because of who you _used_ to be; that's enough for them to start calling for your head."

"I can handle the lynch mobs, if that's what you're worried about," she replied evenly. "Besides, nobody seemed to mind before when I was here."

"That was then, Miss Gogh; now's a different pot of beans," Barkin countered. "It's a little more obvious who you used to be—back then nobody could've ever guessed who you really were—and I'm sure that there are a number of parents that would be more than a little upset if they figured out who was teaching their children."

Again Kate sighed, but this time out of frustration. In a dark corner of her mind, she fantasized briefly about jumping across the desk with her fists flaming and telling him to either spit it out or quit wasting her time, but she kept her cool… almost. "Okay, Steve, quit beating around the bush; are you giving me the job or not?" she spat.

Despite the tension he felt interviewing a former flame (no pun intended), Barkin chuckled softly. "Yes, Miss Gogh, you have the job if you want it," he said. "Not only is the entire district starving for qualified teachers, but you just demonstrated the type of professionalism we don't see nearly enough in the public school system."

"I don't follow," Kate said, perplexed.

"Miss Gogh…"

"Steve, call me Kate."

"Kate," he amended, "I saw it in your eyes; you were about ready to jump across this desk and remind me who you used to be and we both know there's not a damn thing I could do to stop you. Instead, you held your temper—you didn't even light up your hands—and semi-politely asked me to get to the point. If you can handle that, I'm sure you can handle a bunch of teenagers."

For the first time since she set foot on the Middleton High grounds that day, a smile crossed Kate's lips. "What can I say? I'm capable of being persuasive without resorting to violence," she remarked with a shrug, "and don't worry about bad publicity. You read the letter I just gave you from Dr. Director; these kids are every bit as safe with me here as they would be with any other teacher… and they might even learn a thing or two from me in the process."

"That would be a benefit," the former soldier replied, still grinning softly as he reached across the desk. "Welcome to Middleton High, Miss Gogh… or should I say, welcome _back?"_

"Thanks, Steve," she said, shaking his hand and returning the grin.

As they released the handshake, Barkin again rested his arms on the desk and laced his fingers together, his expression changing from professional to personal. "Now, about the other thing…" he began.

Kate held up her hand to cut him off. "Steve, just stop right there," she said with a pained expression. "I know I cut out awful abruptly after everything got sorted out with Electronique and that wasn't fair to you, so I'm going to apologize for that right now… and the dogs," she added with a slight flush on her cheeks.

"No apology necessary," he said. "I understand things were pretty messed up and all, but that doesn't mean we can't try again."

Again, a long sigh escaped the former villainess' lips as she looked forlornly at him. "I know this isn't what you wanted to hear, Steve, but yes it does," she said softly. "Even though I wasn't exactly the same person I am now, I still remember everything and what it was like being with you. You really are a great guy and all, but I really don't think it would work out between us."

"You don't?" he said, deflating slightly at her words.

"I'm sorry, Steve, but no," she replied, shaking her head sadly. "Like I said, you're a great guy and I'm looking forward to working with you, but I really think you'd be better suited with somebody else; somebody more like I was when I was Sarah Go."

It broke Kate's heart to have to let him down—as necessary as it was—but she was impressed with how well he took it. "You're probably right," he finally said with a nod. "I'm used to the idea of Sarah Go; if Possible's stories about you are any indication, you're certainly _not_ that woman."

"No, I'm not," she agreed with a relieved laugh. "Listen, Steve, thanks for understanding; I really do think you're a great guy and I would like to think that we can be friends, I just don't think trying to pursue something together would be a good idea."

Again Barkin nodded, apparently coming to terms with her rejection rather quickly. "Somehow I think that probably would be the best arrangement," he said with a grin, demonstrating yet again there were no hard feelings.

Twenty-five minutes later, the former villainess was walking across the mostly-empty Middleton High parking lot, feeling ten times better than she felt when she'd crossed it in the opposite direction. Now that she had the interview—not to mention having to go face-to-face with Steve Barkin again—behind her, she could relax and focus on enjoying the rest of the day.

She had just reached her car and was putting her briefcase into the trunk of the vehicle when she realized her cell phone was vibrating in her jacket pocket. Withdrawing it as she slammed the trunk lid down, she cast a brief glance at the caller ID; a broad grin crossing her black-painted lips when she saw the name displayed. Flipping the device open, she tucked it between her ear and shoulder as she withdrew a cigarette pack from the inside pocket of her jacket. "Aren't you on duty?" she asked playfully as she placed a cigarette between her lips.

"Yeah, but I had a minute free and wanted to give you a call and find out how it went today," Jake replied on the other end.

"Taking an awful chance, aren't you?" the malachite vixen countered, leaning against the quarter panel of her Charger. "What if I was in the middle of my interview and you just blew it for me?"

"Right, Katie; and I'm on my way to Nashville right now to sign a record deal," he quipped with a laugh. "If you were still in the middle of your interview, you'd sound a hell of a lot madder than you do and you'd be on your way to hunt me down and lay a serious thumping into me right now."

"Okay, you got me," she laughed, unable to keep up the charade. "I actually just got out and back to my car."

"Now that, I believe," he said. "So are you gonna tell me how it went or are you gonna keep me in suspense?"

Rather than answer right away, Kate instead hummed tunelessly in an "I don't know" suggestion as she retrieved her sunglasses from the dashboard of her car and put them on. "Well," she finally said as she leaned against the front fender and took a drag on her cigarette, "I'll put it to you this way… you're talking to Middleton High's new algebra and introductory trig teacher."

"Katie, that's awesome! Congratulations!" he exulted, his excitement obviously genuine. "You do realize we have to celebrate now, right?"

"Um… see previous question; aren't you on duty?"

"I didn't mean_ right_ now," he retorted dryly. "I meant on my next day off."

"Oh, I gotcha now; got anything in particular in mind?"

"How about a home-cooked dinner at my place tomorrow night… or is that too date-ish for your liking?"

"No, no; that's fine," she said, "the thought of a meal I don't either have to prepare or pay for sounds like my kind of celebration."

"Who said anything about you not making it? I just thought you'd like to eat at my house instead of yours," Jake said innocently. "I can't even boil water."

Kate could hardly believe her ears. She was just about to light into him for being an uncouth jerk when she heard him attempt to hold back a chortle. "You ass," she groused, "I actually thought you were serious for a minute!"

"Now what kind of a person would I be to invite a friend to my house just to make them cook?" he asked between laughs. "I can't promise a gourmet meal, but I haven't poisoned anybody yet, so that's gotta count for something."

"Like I said, not having to pay for it or make it myself sounds good to me," she chuckled. "As long as your non-contaminated streak stays alive, I'll be happy."

"I think I can manage to put something at least somewhat edible together," he said. "Listen, I gotta run; is seven o'clock good for you?"

"I'll be there," she replied with a grin. "Should I bring anything with me; a bottle of wine or something?"

"Nope, just bring yourself; I've got it covered."

"Okay," she giggled, crushing the butt of her cigarette under the toe of her shoe. "I'll see you tomorrow at seven."

"Can't wait!" he replied enthusiastically, ending the call.

Kate stood for a moment and stared at her phone with a wry smirk on her face. She was slightly amused—and not just a little flattered—that Jake had sounded so genuinely excited and proud of her for winning the position at Middleton High. With another shake of her head and a quiet chuckle, the raven-haired woman climbed into her car and left the school parking lot.

Just as she merged into traffic, the questions started coursing through her mind. _I forgot to ask him what the dress code's gonna be; what do I wear? Do I go for a dress, or do I go for the casual khakis and T-shirt? Should I go for somewhere in between? What if I overdo it? What if I _under-_do it?_

"Augh!" she exclaimed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she sat at a red light. "Get a hold of yourself, girl! This is just Jake we're talking about; he won't care if you show up in a ratty Yankees sweater and cutoffs!"

_Still doesn't mean you can't try to look good for him,_ another voice—which sounded suspiciously like Kim's—said in the back of her mind. _He's doing something special for you; maybe you should do something special for him._

"Oh, for Christ's sake," she muttered, "she calls me 'Sis' once and now she's in my head giving me advice!" _Although, that doesn't sound like such a bad idea…_

* * *

"Mon, can you tell me how anybody can mess up a _hanging_ display?" Kim asked as she straightened a rack of sundresses that had been ravaged by a group of giggly fourteen-year-olds mere moments before. "I mean, I can understand the T-shirts stacked on the tables, but this…" she motioned at the newly-tidied rack, "…boggles the mind."

"I know; I've been trying to figure that one out ever since I first started here," the mocha-skinned teen replied as she glanced up from the clipboard she was looking at. "To this day, I have yet to find an answer that satisfies me."

"Glad to know I'm not the only one," the redhead sighed as she idly straightened a stack of the aforementioned T-shirts. "Oh well, at least it gives me something to do when it's slow."

"At least until the next wave of 'tweens rolls in," Monique added dryly.

Kim rolled her eyes at the thought of another rabid pack of freshmen attacking her meticulously-maintained displays, but took a cleansing breath and dismissed it as part of the job. Besides, most of them really weren't _all_ that bad… not bad enough, anyway, to make the famous heroine consider giving up her employee discount.

Her train of thought was derailed by the sound of the chime announcing a customer entering the store. Putting down the T-shirt she'd been folding, she turned to greet the newcomer with a sunny smile on her face; the canned greeting dying on her tongue when she saw who the customer was. "Hey Kate," she said brightly.

"Hey Kim, Monique," the jade-skinned woman replied as she approached her former arch-foe. "Can I borrow you for a few minutes? I could really use your opinion on something."

"Sure; what's on your mind?"

Casting a quick glance at Monique, Kate crossed her arms and took a deep breath before she spoke. "Remember when Electronique messed with my mind and I came to you about going on a double-date with Steve Barkin and I mentioned something about working for Drakken not leaving me much chance for socializing?" she said in a rush.

"Yeah," Kim drawled, wondering where her friend was going with the topic.

"Well, I've run into another social dilemma that I could use your input on," she continued, her left hand traveling up to fiddle with her ponytail, "but this one's a little more complicated."

Kim crossed her arms and quirked an eyebrow. "Would this have anything to do with the guy Mom said you ran into last night; an old friend of yours that you referred to as 'your Ron'?" she asked.

A slightly embarrassed chuckle escaped the pale woman's lips as she nodded. "Yeah, it does," she replied. "I should've known that your mother would've told you about that."

"Well, I haven't heard any of this story yet," Monique interjected as she approached the other two women, "so why don't you start at the beginning?"

"You didn't tell her?" Kate asked Kim with a hint of incredulity, nodding her head in Monique's direction at the same time.

"Not my story to tell," Kim replied with a shrug. "Besides, even though Mom told me about it, she only gave me the Cliff's Notes; I'd kinda like to hear you tell it yourself."

Kate heaved a melodramatic sigh of resignation as she looked at the expectant expressions on the two teenagers' faces. "Okay, fine," she finally said with a smirk, recounting the tale of how Jake had been her closest friend and moved away not long before the fateful day the comet hit and changed her family's lives forever.

"It must've been quite a shock to run into him last night," Kim commented.

"Oh yeah, he was the _last_ person I expected to see there," Kate replied, "although your mother wasn't much higher on the list, either."

"So who recognized who first?" Monique asked.

"Jake thought he recognized me when I went to get refills," the former villainess replied, laughing lightly at the memory. "He was looking at me while I was standing at the bar and I gave him hell for staring at me; I thought he was just another high-on-himself bar band guitar picker that figured if he wanted me, he could have me… just because he was in the band." Again she laughed as she continued. "It was when I gave him shit that he figured out who I was."

Kim and Monique both laughed. "So fast forward to when you left the bar; what happened then?" the redhead asked.

"We went to an all-night diner next door and talked over coffee and a sandwich till almost four," Kate replied. "Since we didn't have much chance to talk while we were at the bar, we used that time to get caught up; during the conversation, I'd mentioned I had a job interview today."

"That explains the snappy threads," Monique interjected. "What was the interview for?"

"Would you believe you're talking to the new algebra and introductory trig teacher at Middleton High?"

Both of the younger women gawped at her in amazement. "You mean you actually decided to go back to teaching?" Kim said. A sudden gasp soon followed the first comment and her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, my God; you had to talk to Barkin, didn't you? How did that go?"

"Yes and yes," Kate nodded. "Believe it or not, I got through the interview okay _and_ I managed to let Steve down easy; once he considered the differences between me and Sarah Go—that's the alias I used when he hired me the first time—he realized that trying to pursue a relationship probably wouldn't work out as well as it did then."

"I'm assuming we're getting closer to the dilemma?" Monique deadpanned.

"Yeah," Kate nodded wryly. "After the interview, I was on my way back to my car when Jake called me and asked me how my interview went; when I told him I got the job, he wanted to celebrate by having me over for dinner tomorrow night."

"Sounds kinda like a date to me," Monique commented with a grin; Kim's expression mirroring hers.

Kate shook her head emphatically. "No, it's not a date; we used to hang out and do stuff like that all the time."

"Kinda like another pair of old friends I know," the fashion maven muttered with a pointed glance at Kim.

Rolling her eyes, Kate ignored what Monique was implying and continued. "Anyway, my problem is I'm not exactly sure what would be appropriate to wear; it's dinner at an old friend's house to celebrate a new job. On the one hand, since it's not a date I don't want to pass off the vibe that I might think it is; while on the other hand I don't want to downplay what he's doing for me by showing up in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt."

A mischievous grin crossed Kim's lips as she glanced at Monique—who nodded her agreement—before she spoke again. "Kate… is this really what's bothering you about the whole situation?" she asked.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Monique decided to jump in so the comet-endowed woman wouldn't concentrate any potential ire solely on Kim. "I think what Kim's getting at is: are you more worried about dressing appropriately, or are you more worried about impressing Jake?"

"I already told you, Jake and I have been friends for a long time; it's not like that!" Kate retorted defensively.

"So if it doesn't matter and it really is just two old friends having dinner together, why not just go in whatever?" Kim challenged. "Before we got together, Ron never bothered to wear anything special when he came over to the house and neither did I. Really, we still don't even though we are together; only when he's picking me up for a date."

"Did he ever invite you to his house for dinner to celebrate a new job or anything?" the mint-skinned woman countered. "This doesn't fall under 'just dropping by', y'know."

"Wise woman speaks truth, _kemo sabe,"_ Monique acquiesced as she turned to Kim, "this ain't as cut and dry as we're making it."

"I suppose you're right," Kim agreed with a sigh. "So what would you suggest?"

Monique pondered the situation and the subject for a moment as she scanned the store; eventually approaching a rack of dresses and selecting one, holding it up for the other two to appraise. "How about something like this?" she ventured. "Casual, but still a little dressy at the same time; even just your choice of shoes could make the difference."

Kate considered the garment that Monique had in her hand, finally nodding. "It's worth a shot, at least," she finally said with a shrug as she took the dress from the dark-skinned woman and headed for a fitting room.

"She seemed awful insistent that it's not a date," Kim commented once Kate was out of earshot.

"Like I said, sounds like a couple other 'old friends' I know," Monique retorted with another pointed glance at her. "Before you and Ron pulled your collective heads out of your asses, how many times did you swear up and down—_both_ of you—that you were 'just friends'?"

"We were," the redhead insisted, somewhat unconvincingly.

"No; the two of you just refused to acknowledge what the rest of the world in general already knew," she countered matter-of-factly. "Why do you think the first words out of Bonnie's mouth that night were 'it _finally_ happened'? We all saw it coming, girl."

A sheepish grin crossed Kim's lips and her cheeks flushed lightly as she conceded her friend's statement. "I guess some things can be just as hard to see when you're too close as when you're too far away," she said.

Kate chose that moment to re-emerge from the fitting room wearing the dress Monique had selected—a teal halter-style, knee-length number—and approached the teens again with her arms outstretched. "So," she said, "what do you think?"

Two pairs of eyes—one green and one brown—examined the garment on Kate's athletic form for a moment before Kim broke the silence. "I think it's exactly what you're looking for; something that's middle-of-the-road between casual and dressy," she said with a grin.

"You don't think it's too flirty?" Kate said uncertainly as she examined herself in a mirror on a support column.

Kim shook her head in the negative, surreptitiously scanning the store for other customers as she spoke. "Kate, it's summertime and you're a woman; 'flirty' is synonymous with 'it's fucking hot and I'm only wearing this for decency's sake'," she said in an undertone that would only be heard by the three of them.

"She's right," Monique agreed, "you'd have to wear a burlap sack to not look just a little sexy… and with your curves, even then I couldn't make any guarantees."

"Besides," Kim continued as the mint-skinned woman continued to appraise her reflection in a mirror, "if Jake's as true a friend as you say he is, he'll probably notice you dressed up a little for him and compliment you—maybe even thank you for taking the time to dress up—but that's where it'll end."

A small smile crept across Kate's lips as she considered what they said. "I think you're right; this _is_ what I was looking for," she finally said. "It's the sort of thing I could wear to my niece's baptism in the morning and to the club that night."

Kim grabbed an identical dress and started for the cash registers. "I'll ring up the sale while you get changed, Kate; that way I'll just have to take the security tag off and put it in a bag for you."

"Thanks, Kim," she said as she returned to the fitting room to change back into her suit.

Once the former villainess was out of earshot again, a devious smirk crossed Monique's lips as she approached Kim. "If that boy is even remotely straight, he's gonna have a hard time keeping his eyes off her in that," she murmured with a giggle.

"You don't think that dress is a little much?" Kim countered uncertainly as she rang up the article. "It shows an awful lot of skin for a celebration dinner."

"I will admit—and keep in mind I'm as straight as an arrow—that even _my_ loins tingled a little looking at her in that thing," the mocha-skinned woman conceded, "but it's like you said; she's a woman—a damn _fine_ woman, to be sure—and it's the heat of summer out there. No matter what she does to stay comfortable and look good at the same time, she's gonna end up turning some heads."

"I suppose, it's not like it's in Little Black Dress territory," Kim mused. "God only knows what would happen if she did wear something like that."

"I'm thinking he'd probably melt down," Monique quipped as Kate reappeared from the dressing room, clad again in her skirt and blouse, her jacket draped over one arm and the dress on top of it. Picking up the second dress, she gave Kim a grin. "I'll put this back for you while you close the deal," she said as she stepped out from behind the counter.

Kate put the dress—along with her credit card—on the counter so Kim could close the transaction. "So you're gonna come over tomorrow afternoon and help me get ready, right?" she asked as the younger woman ran her employee discount card through the reader, followed by Kate's Visa.

"Do you really need me to help you get ready?" Kim countered incredulously. "I thought this wasn't a date?"

"Not really, but in a way it kinda is," the mint-skinned woman replied with a shrug. "Besides… I always wanted to play dress-up with a little sister," she added with a wink.

Kim laughed as she put the slip in her till and handed Kate her copy. "Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse?" she said as she removed the security tag from the dress and placed it in a bag. "What time do you want me there?"

"How's two o'clock sound? We can do a late lunch or something beforehand, then you'll have the rest of your night free to go do something with Ron."

"Works for me," the teen heroine said as she passed the bag across the counter. "Sure you don't need anything else?"

"What, are you commission-based now?" Kate retorted.

"No, I just want to make sure you're prepared."

"I think I'm good," the raven-haired vixen said with a grin. "See you tomorrow, Kim."

"Bye, Sis."

"Sis?" Monique echoed as she returned behind the counter to stand beside Kim. "Was there part of the story I missed; like Kate's really your long-lost older sister or something?"

"No, no; nothing like that," Kim replied with a shake of her head as she started counting her till. "The night Ron got shot, Kate and I ended up spending the night in a hotel not far from the hospital; after we had some second-rate Chinese food, I took a shower and then Kate took her turn after me. I was thinking about how our relationship had changed since graduation night and realized that she was quickly becoming the big sister I never had; when she asked if I had a brush after she took her shower, I called her 'Sis' without even thinking about it and it kinda stuck."

"So in the last two or three weeks you two have managed to put the last three _years_ behind you?" the dark-skinned fashionista said incredulously. "How does that work?"

"It did get a bit personal over time, but the majority of our aggression towards each other was professional," Kim explained as she deftly counted a stack of twenty-dollar bills. "After we talked at graduation and everything that came afterwards, we started to really hit it off; I'm actually getting along better with her now than I did when she was Reverse-Polarized."

"So does this mean that Kate's your new BGF?"

A sharp gasp passed Kim's lips when she finally realized just how her comments may have sounded to Monique. Dropping the wad of bills she was counting (she knew she'd have to re-count, but that really wasn't a pressing concern at the moment), she quickly closed the gap between herself and her friend and embraced her. "Mon, that's not what it means at all," she said, "you'll always be my BGF."

Monique returned the hug, at least partially reassured she wasn't being replaced by the former villainess in the best friend department. She did, however, feel ashamed that she would suspect Kim capable of casting her old friends aside in favor of new ones. "I know, Kim," she said, "and I'm sorry I would ever accuse you of replacing me with her. After all, you had two best friends before you and Ron took that next step; nobody ever said you couldn't again."

"I've actually got three best friends, now," Kim corrected as they disengaged. "Just because Ron and I are dating doesn't mean he's not still my best friend, y'know."

"Yeah, but now that you're dating, the day's gonna come that he pisses you off and you need to scream about him to somebody with a pint of fudge ripple ice cream," Monique replied with a smirk. "That's where your best friends come into play."

Kim smiled; Monique's mention of "best friends" in the plural not going unnoticed by the redhead. "Trust me, you and Kate will be the first ones to hear about it if Ron does something to tweak me," she promised as she retrieved the stack of bills she'd been counting and started over again.

"We'd better be," the fashion maven mock-scolded with a twinkle in her eye. "Sometimes group therapy is better than one-on-one; especially when it comes to man troubles."

Kim just grinned and nodded; thankful that she had friends she could count on.


	5. Chapter Four

**__****_STANDARD DISCLAIMER:_**___The characters of Kim Possible, Dr. James Timothy Possible, Dr. Anne Possible, Jim and Tim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Wade Load, Steve Barkin, Bonnie Rockwaller, Monique, Tara, Felix Renton, Rufus the Naked Mole Rat, Drew "Dr. Drakken" Lipsky, Shego, Dr. Dementor, Lord Montgomery "Monkey Fist" Fiske, Señor Senior Senior, Señor Senior Junior, Dr. Betty Director, Special Agent Will Du, Global Justice and any and all other minor characters/locations from the television series __Kim Possible__ are the sole property of the Walt Disney Corporation, and are used herein without permission or contest to their ownership for the sole purpose of personal, non-profit entertainment. Any and all minor characters that have not appeared in the television series, and this storyline, are the sole creation and property of the author and may not be reproduced without prior consent (if you want to post it, just ask).  
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___A/N: For anybody that was wondering; no, I haven't died/been abducted by aliens/given up on this story. Unfortunately, my muse decided to up and leave me for an indiscriminate amount of time, hence the reason for the long delay between my last update and this one. However, I'm somewhat back on track now and have finally managed to complete Chapter Four for your reading and reviewing enjoyment. Hopefully this chapter holds up to my usual standards and the reader's expectations._

___As usual, before we begin, a shout out to those that took the time to review the previous chapter. Thanks to: Sentinel103, CajunBear73, Katsumara, Lefty11, jkrust78, Yamal, Reader101w, GirlyGirl88, KP's Man and an anonymous reviewer; it's your feedback that keeps the creative juices flowing. Also, I'd like to extend a special thanks to SlightlyobsessedHaylz for agreeing to be a sounding board for some of the ideas that have bounced around in my head on how this story should proceed._

___With that out of the way, on with the story!  
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**_CHAPTER FOUR_**

Global Justice Agent Rhonda Bartlett couldn't help but yawn profusely as she sat down at her desk with her super-extra-large cup of used motor oil that the GJ commissary tried to pass off for coffee. Taking a sip of the exquisitely-horrid brew, she pulled a face as she put the cup on her desk and logged into her workstation.

In the cubicle beside her, Chrissy Cameron saw this and laughed. "Ron, why do you drink that stuff when you can barely choke it down?" she asked.

"Because, grasshopper, when one is a caffeine addict such as myself; one needs to ingest it in some form in order to function in the morning," Bartlett replied airily. "Besides, I'm too cheap to go to Starbucks and pay six bucks for a cup of coffee that's no better than the sludge they give away in the commissary."

"I'm gonna buy you a gallon travel mug and a coffee maker for your birthday," Cameron quipped, shaking her head.

"Don't bother; I have a coffee maker and a travel mug that I never think of," Bartlett said as she waited for her email client to open. "I've kinda developed a taste for this stuff, anyway; I find I miss it after I have a couple of days off."

"You, Rhonda, are one sick cookie."

"Which is why you love being on my team, right?"

"You just keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better, sweetie."

"Bite me."

"No."

"That's insubordination," Bartlett shot back as she skimmed her emails.

"Does that mean I get the day off?"

"Dream on."

"It was worth a shot," Cameron shrugged as she returned her attention to her workstation.

Bartlett chuckled under her breath, but said nothing more as she focused on the mass of emails she'd accumulated over her off-duty hours. _Sometimes I wish they'd disable "Reply to All,"_ she thought as she weeded out the correspondence that really had no bearing on her or her team in the slightest; idly sipping at her coffee as she did so.

She'd just about completed her daily email cleanup when the telephone extension on her desk rang. Without bothering to look at the caller display, she grabbed the receiver midway through the second ring and placed it to her ear. "Agent Bartlett," she said simply.

"Rhonda, Dr. Director here," the Global Justice administrator said on the other end of the line. "When you get a second, could you come down to my office? There's no immediate rush; just whenever you get a minute."

"I'll be right down; I actually have a minute right now," Bartlett replied, trying her best to not let her confusion show in her voice. Hanging up the phone, she turned to address Cameron as she rose from her seat. "Hey Chrissy, I just got called to the principal's office; we'll take a look at whatever new info we've got on WWEE when I get back."

Cameron nodded and glanced back at her own workstation as she spoke. "Well, I can tell you right now that I've got squat, but I'll round up what the others have when they get in so we can dive right into it when you get back," she said. With an impish grin, she added, "Good luck with the principal."

"Thanks," Bartlett chuckled as she walked away.

In her office, Dr. Betty Director sat behind her desk, staring at her computer screen with a disturbed expression on her face. Mere moments ago, she'd received an email from one of the top members of the UN Security Council—Global Justice's chief governing body—that contained information troubling enough to make the veteran agent's blood run cold.

Her thought process was momentarily interrupted by a knock on her office door. "Come in," she called out, sighing at the prospect of the conversation she was about to have.

Bartlett opened the door and stepped into the Spartan office. "You wanted to see me, Dr. Director?" she said as she swung the door shut behind her.

"Yes, Rhonda; come in and have a seat," Director replied with another sigh, motioning for the younger woman to take a seat. As Bartlett moved to sit in one of the chairs across the desk, however, she noticed the non-descript Styrofoam cup the agent was carrying. "Is that the sludge from downstairs?" she asked, momentarily distracted from the task at hand.

"Yeah," Bartlett chuckled with a shrug as she sat down. "Chrissy had the same reaction, and I'll tell you what I told her; don't ask me to explain it, but somehow I've developed a taste for this stuff," she explained, taking a sip as if to support her statement.

"You must have more adaptive taste buds than I do; in over twenty years I still can't hack the stuff," Director deadpanned, then cleared her throat. "Of course, I didn't call you down here to discuss your palate for burnt coffee; we have a much more serious issue on our hands that I wanted to share with you."

"I'm not sure I want to know."

"You probably don't; but at the same time it's best if you do know," Director replied almost sympathetically. "I have to confess that I was rather disturbed when I read the information I'm about to share with you."

"I hate it when you say stuff like that," Bartlett groaned as she raked her fingers through her chestnut-brown locks. Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she sat up a little straighter and squared her shoulders. "Okay, let's hear it," she finally said.

Director shifted herself in her seat; almost as if she were stalling. Finally, she took another deep breath and spoke. "I received a forwarded email through the night from one of the chief members of the UN Security Council that he originally received from an inside source within the US Marshals office, describing a series of events that wouldn't be out of place in a Jerry Bruckheimer film."

"Is that just his way of saying 'we screwed up hardcore, but this is how we're gonna spin it'?" Bartlett interjected with a quirked eyebrow.

"Not this time, no," Director replied with a shake of her head as she took a sip from a mug on her desk. "Yesterday morning at 0630 hours local time, two United States Marshals were scheduled to collect one Savannah Eloise Tucker from the county correctional facility in Colorado Springs for transport to more permanent lodgings at the women's Federal Correctional Institution in Dublin, California. According to paperwork at the Colorado Springs prison, protocol was followed to the letter; the prisoner was transferred from the custody of two guards—one male, one female—to the Marshals at precisely 0632 hours, ostensibly to board a JPATS flight to California. Of course, the pilot allowed them a bit of extra time to get to the airport—after all, traffic is always a variable factor in any trip—and waited an extra forty-five minutes beyond their scheduled departure time before he started to worry."

"Were they hijacked on the road or something on their way?"

"That would make a lot more sense and be a lot easier to explain, but no," Director replied with a humorless chuckle. "When the pilot finally started suspecting something was amiss, he tried to call both marshals; each with no success. Finally, he called the Colorado Springs office and asked the dispatch officer if there'd been a change in the schedule he hadn't been made aware of… and that's when everything went to hell in a handbasket.

"The dispatch officer he spoke with, luckily, was the same one that had set up the orders the day before for those two marshals to escort Tucker to Dublin from Colorado Springs, and she remembered issuing their orders to them via email the previous morning. When she looked up their duty orders in the database, however, she discovered they had been reassigned to a commercial flight to Boston."

"Let me guess," Bartlett interjected, "classic case of the right hand doesn't know what the left hand's doing; too many hands in the pot… pick your cliché?"

"Again, that would make things a lot easier on everybody—and would leave a clear trail of accountability—but no," Director said with a shake of her head. "Everybody in that office that had access to modify those orders was questioned and came back clean; the IT department investigated and found the orders were modified using a generic user account that existed just long enough to issue the order, and then was removed from the system."

"What about Tucker? She was still picked up in Colorado Springs; did the marshals that got assigned the job think they had to _drive_ all the way out there?"

"That's just it, Rhonda; _nobody_ got re-assigned to Tucker," Director stated darkly. "Those two marshals that picked her up were imposters."

"That's messed up," the young agent stated flatly. "Who could possibly have the resources to not only impersonate two federal law enforcement agents, but also be able to hack into their database—one of the most secure in the nation, I might add—and reassign agents at their leisure?"

"This is where we come in," Director said. "Effective immediately, your team is on special assignment; find out who busted Tucker out of prison and tampered with federal records—they also removed any record or mention of Tucker from the Colorado Springs facility and the institution in Dublin—and bring them down."

"So the Marshals drop the ball and we have to go in and clean up their mess? Since when is Global Justice a mop-up crew for US federal departments?"

"If this were strictly a US Marshals and a Department of Corrections SNAFU, we wouldn't be," Director replied, "but Savannah Tucker is a Global Justice prisoner, so we have a vested interest in recapturing her."

"She is?" Bartlett said with a quizzical expression. "The name doesn't ring any bells with me; has she been in custody for awhile?"

"No; in fact, she was only apprehended last week. Perhaps you would recognize her alias more than you would her legal name." With that, the eyepatch-clad woman turned her monitor around to show the agent across the desk the mug shot and personal information on the missing prisoner.

It took every ounce of energy and willpower Rhonda Bartlett possessed to not drop her coffee to the floor. "Fuck."

* * *

Not all that far away from Betty Director's office and blissfully unaware of the meeting taking place there, Kate sat at the small table in the kitchenette of her temporary lodgings with her morning cup of coffee in hand and a toasted bagel with peanut butter on a plate in front of her. It felt like nothing could kill her good mood that morning; not only was she looking forward to meeting up with Jake later that evening (_it's not a date!), _but she'd received an email that morning from her lawyer stating she was a few signatures and a check away from getting the keys to the house she'd looked at the previous morning. In fact, she was still staring at the email on her laptop with a hint of disbelief in her emerald eyes. _Man, when they said 'quick sale', they weren't joking,_ she thought incredulously as she re-read the message.

Her train of thought was derailed by the sound of her cell phone ringing. Groaning in frustration—she'd just taken a bite of her bagel and the peanut butter was stuck to the roof of her mouth—she took a quick drink of her coffee as she went to retrieve the device from her purse. Not bothering to look at the caller ID, she flipped it open and placed it to her ear with a muffled, "Hello?"

"Hey Katie," Jake's voice said on the other end of the line. "I didn't wake you up or anything, did I?"

Swallowing hard to get the final remnants of peanut butter from her mouth, Kate managed to reply; albeit slightly breathlessly. "Hey Jake; no, you didn't wake me up, you just caught me with a mouthful of peanut butter," she said with a self-effacing chuckle. "What's up?"

"I was just about to go to the market to pick up a few things for tonight and figured I should double-check that we're still on," he replied. "I don't normally keep much for produce in my fridge; with my schedule, half of it ends up wilted, rotten or otherwise ruined before I get to it."

"Wild horses couldn't stop me," she said with a grin, even though he couldn't see it. "Barring some major catastrophe between now and then—and by major catastrophe, I mean something that puts one of us in the hospital—I'll be there."

"I was hoping you'd say something like that," he said. "Alright, now that that's settled, I should get moving so everything'll be ready in time. See you at seven?"

"Count on it," she replied, snapping her phone shut once they'd signed off. _Practical to a fault,_ she thought with a chuckle as she closed her laptop and brought her dirty dishes to the kitchen sink. _I guess some things really don't change._

After giving the kitchen a quick tidying from making her breakfast (including dishes and all, a process that took roughly five minutes), the mint-skinned woman proceeded to her bedroom to get dressed and start her day. With the email she'd received, it promised to be a busy one; especially if the purchase process kept going at the rate it seemed to be maintaining… not that she was complaining, of course; the sooner she could get out from under Global Justice's thumb, the better she liked it.

Ten minutes later, Kate re-emerged from the bedroom; her bathrobe replaced by a white T-shirt and low-rise blue jeans. A lightweight brown suede jacket and hiking boots completed the ensemble. Grabbing her purse and car keys from the stand next to the door, she shut the lights off and left her quarters to get a start on her day.

She was just crossing the motor pool parking area when a voice calling her name made her stop. Turning to face the source, she grinned when she saw who'd beckoned to her. "Agent Dawson, as I live and breathe," she joked, waiting for the agent to catch up to her, "long time no see."

Agent Mark Dawson returned the grin as he drew alongside her. "Yes, it has, Miss Gogh," he replied. "It's good to see you back on your feet after your altercation with Drakken."

Kate chuckled as they continued through the motor pool. "Believe me; nobody's happier about not having to spend more time in the hospital than absolutely necessary than I am," she said sincerely. "Now the next step is getting on with my life."

"I heard you managed to land your old position at Middleton High again," Dawson remarked. "I have to admit I was surprised; I figured you'd be more likely to go into some arm of law enforcement, maybe even join Global Justice."

"No offence, but Global Justice is probably the _last_ place I would go if I was gonna go the law enforcement route," the mint-skinned woman deadpanned. "It's one thing to work with Kim once in awhile, but it's not something I want to do full-time… I just want to have a normal life."

"Complete with a picket fence, a husband, two cars and two-point-two kids?" Dawson quipped as they arrived beside Kate's Charger.

An almost wistful grin crossed the young woman's black-painted lips as the thought crossed her mind. "Maybe someday," she replied in as soft a tone as Dawson had ever heard.

For just a moment, the agent forgot he was on-duty and talking to an individual that not only was he professionally involved with—for the time being—but was also a reformed international criminal. Instead, he merely saw a young woman that was making a conscious effort to change her life and realign it for the better; something that he could not only respect, but also found just a little alluring. He did, however, manage to give himself a mental shake before he said something inappropriate and instead shot Kate a sincere—if benign—smile. "For what it's worth, I hope you get everything you're dreaming of," he said. "As far as I'm concerned, you've proven yourself and have earned the right to be happy."

"Thanks, Agent Dawson," she said as she unlocked her car.

"Please, call me Mark," he corrected, "Agent Dawson just seems so… formal."

Another chuckle rose from her throat as she opened her car door. "Okay, Mark," she said, "but only if you'll call me Kate; if 'Agent Dawson' is too formal, then so is 'Miss Gogh'. I'll be hearing enough of that when I start back at the school in the fall."

"Deal," he laughed. Before the moment got too awkward, he motioned to her open car door as he spoke again. "On that note, I've held you up long enough; I'll see you around, Kate."

"Not if I see you first," she riposted with a saucy grin as she climbed into her car and shut the door.

Dawson stood rooted to one spot as he watched the former villainess start her car and drive away with a pensive look on his face. Only when the gleaming black sedan went through the gate and out of sight did he finally move; he had to actually physically shake himself out of the stupor he'd found himself in. Wiping a hand over his face, the young agent adjusted his tie as he continued on his way.

He wasn't sure when it happened, but somewhere along the line Dawson realized he was starting to look at Kate in a less than professional manner. Instead of looking at her and seeing a reformed criminal that was doing her level best to atone for her transgressions and make an honest living, he looked at her and saw a beautiful young woman that he would love to get to know better. Sure, most might be put off by the fact her skin tone was roughly the same shade as pistachio ice cream; others might be intimidated by the fact that she could sling potentially lethal plasma bolts with a thought; still others might be wary of the fact she didn't _need_ the plasma in most cases in order to wipe the floor with them. For Dawson, however, all of those factors merely added to her mystique in his eyes.

"_So what are ya gonna do about it?"_ a snide voice in the back of his head asked. _"She's not technically a ward of Global Justice anymore, so it's not like there's anything standing in the way of asking her out."_

"Maybe that's not such a bad idea," he muttered aloud as he unlocked the navy-blue Chevy Impala he'd been assigned and tossed the briefcase he'd been carrying into the passenger's seat. As he slid into the driver's seat and shut the door, a plan started to formulate in his mind; a plan to somehow win the affections of Kate Gogh.

* * *

In another part of town, another young man was thinking not how to win the affections of a woman he was attracted to—that part had already been accomplished with an unexpected ease—but how to break the news of the latest development in his life to her. He already knew without even talking to her that it wouldn't go well; the only question was would she be heartbroken, or raging mad?

Ron sighed as he replayed the conversation he'd just finished with his sensei…

_**Earlier that morning:**_

Ron exhaled deeply as he picked up a towel and wiped the sweat from his brow. Despite the cooler temperature of the early morning hour, his intense morning workout regimen of running and kata—after a warm-up of weight training in the basement—left the young man's white training gi thoroughly drenched and stuck to his body in several areas; albeit not uncomfortably.

Draping the towel around the back of his neck and over his shoulders, the towheaded teen bent down to pick up the water bottle that his pet naked mole rat, Rufus, was pushing in his general direction. "Thanks buddy," he said as he retrieved the plastic bottle and twisted the top off, taking a long drink as he let the cool morning air wash over him.

Looking around his surroundings as he let himself cool down and his breathing normalize, Ron couldn't help but think—not for the first time—how fortunate he was for the grove of evergreens that stood in the back portion of his parents' property. Not only was it a picturesque location with the Rocky Mountain foothills as a backdrop, but a convenient clearing in the middle of the stand of limber pine offered him a place to practice his kata and work on mastering his control of the Tai Xing Pe'Kwar powers he'd been endowed with some two years previous.

As part of his training with his powers, Ron would spend between one and two hours after each of his training sessions meditating in the middle of the clearing. Sometimes he would receive a visit in his mind from his sensei, while others he would simply spend his time reflecting on the power bestowed upon him and learning how to summon and control it without allowing it to consume him.

Early on in his "exchange trip" to Yamanouchi, Ron was given a brief history lesson on mistakes made by past holders of the mantle he now carried. Some mistakes were mere cases of poor judgment that were easily rectified, while other errors had been more costly; the worst of which nearly decimated an entire village and just as nearly obliterated the region's entire _sh__ō__gunate._ Needless to say, that was a dark time that nobody attached to the Tai Xing Pe'Kwar powers or their master ever wished to repeat; hence the reason for the history lessons.

Taking a deep breath, Ron tipped the water bottle to his lips again and drained it in one long draught, replaced the cap and tossed it beside his workout bag before taking a seat in the middle of the clearing in a classic Lotus position and closing his eyes. With his wrists resting against his knees and his palms facing up, he slowly cleared his mind and allowed himself to sense and be one with the mystical force of the Tai Xing Pe'Kwar master that flowed through him.

Almost immediately the young Monkey Master could sense not only his powers coursing through his body, but also a welcome presence in his mind. _"Have you been waiting long, Sensei?"_ he asked; a cliché echo in his voice.

"_No, Stoppable-sama,"_ Sensei's voice responded, also with the cliché echo, _"I had just reached out to you when you arrived on the astral plane. Thanks to the discipline you've shown your studies, I was able to easily deduce at what point you would be meditating."_

"_Thank you,"_ he said humbly, recognizing the thinly-veiled praise the old Yamanouchi master had just paid him, _"you honor me with your compliment."_

"_As you honor me by allowing me to enter your mind,"_ Sensei countered, _"however I have not come here merely to praise your progress; regardless of how well-earned it is."_

"_I am your humble student, awaiting your guidance, Sensei."_

Even though he couldn't see his Sensei, Ron was sure that if he could, he would have seen the man's flowing beard and moustache twitch as a smile crossed his lips, even though there was no sign of it in his voice as it echoed through the young man's mind again. _"You have progressed well in your training, Stoppable-sama,"_ he began, _"however you have reached a critical stage in your mastery of the power of Toshimiru and Tai Xing Pe'Kwar. In order to properly complete the final stage of your training—and confirm your title as the Ultimate Master of Tai Xing Pe'Kwar—it is imperative that you come to Yamanouchi and complete your training in person."_

Once upon a time in the not-too-distant past, a revelation like that would have broken Ron's concentration and sent him into a literal and mental tailspin. As his sensei had pointed out, however, his discipline and concentration had improved by leaps and bounds over the past year; the effects of the old master's statement merely causing a brief moment of static in his head before he regained his center. _"With all due respect, Sensei, do I _absolutely _have to return to Yamanouchi to complete my training? Is there no way to finish it as we've done to this point?"_

"_I'm afraid not, Stoppable-sama,"_ Sensei replied gravely. _"As I said, it is imperative that you come here for the last leg of your journey; in order to truly fulfill your duty as Master of the power of Tai Xing Pe'Kwar, you must come to Yamanouchi to complete your studies… as well as a trial."_

"_Trial…?"_ Ron repeated incredulously. _"Is this one of those David Carradine things where I have to brand my forearms or something?"_

Sensei chuckled at his disciple's appraisal of the situation at hand. _"Worry not, Stoppable-sama; that ritual of which you mention belongs to the Shaolin monks, not Tai Xing Pe'Kwar practitioners and followers."_

Ron breathed a sigh of relief as he realized he wouldn't have to somehow maim himself to take the final step towards full mastery of his monkey mojo. _"That's good; Kim's probably gonna be upset enough when I tell her I have to go to Japan to finish my training… she'd probably blow a gasket or five if I told her I was coming back with dragons branded into my arms."_

Again, Sensei couldn't stifle the brief laugh that rumbled from his throat. _"I believe you are correct in your assessment,"_ he said, the amusement still evident in his voice for a moment. When he continued, however, his voice was as grave as it ever was. _"Unfortunately, I must ask that you do not reveal to Possible-chan what you must do until after your task is completed."_

This time Ron _did_ almost lose his focus; for a moment, he caught a brief glimpse of the clearing in which he sat, but he was able to gather his wits and return to his meditation. _"But why can't I tell her where I'm going?"_ he asked indignantly. _"It's not like Kim doesn't know about the school or what I am; why should I have to keep this a secret from her?"_

Sensei had expected this outburst and was prepared for it; in fact, he realized that he would have been more disturbed had Ron _not_ been upset by the news he couldn't tell Kim. _"Your task is something that you must undertake alone,"_ he replied patiently, _"and should Possible-chan have any inkling that you may be placing yourself in danger…"_

"…_she would insist on coming with me,"_ Ron finished with a sigh. _"Okay, so I have to find a way to make myself lie to the woman I love to explain why all of a sudden I'm gonna be gone for… how long will I have to do this task?"_

"_You will be required to spend a total of three weeks at the school,"_ Sensei replied, _"however if all goes well, you will be permitted to summon Possible-chan during the final week; at which time, you will also be permitted to explain your sudden departure."_

Ron couldn't help the exasperated groan that echoed inside his mind at the prospect of trying to get a full three weeks off from Smarty Mart. _"If I even have a job to go back to,"_ he muttered.

"_I do not understand, Stoppable-sama?"_

"_Oh, I'm just trying to figure out how I'm gonna convince my manager to give me three weeks off when I'm still only a student employee,"_ the young kung fu master explained. _"Normally we don't even get vacation time, so I'm not sure how this is gonna work."_

"_Worry not about your employer, Stoppable-sama,"_ Sensei said, _"we have already attended to that; you have been removed from their schedule until your return from Yamanouchi."_

In his past dealings with his sensei and the resources of the Yamanouchi school, Ron had learned that sometimes it was best to not question their methods or their abilities; when they said something was going to be "attended to" or "taken care of," it always was. He didn't pretend to understand how they managed to clear his work schedule without getting him fired; but he knew that if they told him he'd been cleared, then he'd been cleared. _"That's one less thing for me to worry about, I guess,"_ he said, grateful they had taken the time to ensure he still had a job when he came home; he didn't relish the thought of trying to explain taking three weeks off to his boss. _"I'm assuming my travel arrangements will be the same as my last visit to the school?"_

"_That is correct,"_ Sensei replied. _"You will rendezvous with a Yamanouchi operative at the Middleton Airport tomorrow morning at precisely six o'clock; he will supply you with your boarding passes at that time."_

"_I understand, Sensei,"_ Ron intoned. _"If there is nothing further, I ask to be excused so I can start thinking up a plausible story for Kim."_

"_Of course, Stoppable-sama,"_ Sensei said, _"I look forward to seeing you upon your arrival; it has been too long since we've conversed face-to-face."_

With that, Ron's meditation was broken and his eyes opened, again revealing to him the clearing in which he sat. Sighing heavily, he unfolded his legs and stood, casting a baleful glance at Rufus, who was sitting on his workout bag and gazing at him. "Well, buddy; looks like I have to go back to Japan for a few weeks," he said. "Apparently it's time for me to go through the final phase of becoming the Ultimate Monkey Master."

Rufus chattered happily at the news, but when Ron started shaking his head in the negative, the naked mole rat stopped and stared quizzically at his human. "Sorry, Rufus; I have to go by myself this time," he said, "and I can't even tell Kim where I'm going. Sensei looked after clearing my work schedule, but I still have to come up with a reason I'm going away for three weeks and she can't come with me."

_**Present:**_

Half an hour since the end of his astral conversation with Sensei and Ron still hadn't thought of anything plausible. He'd definitely managed to come up with several scenarios that he could use to explain his sudden disappearance; each one more ludicrous than the one before. Even he'd realized some of them were downright ridiculous, but he would still run them by his freakishly-intelligent mole rat; each one earning the same reaction.

"Okay, okay!" Ron conceded when Rufus blew what was probably the fifteenth raspberry in thirty minutes. "I get it; that idea sucked, too!" Growling under his breath in frustration, he stood quickly from the fallen tree he'd been sitting on and began pacing the diameter of the clearing. "I don't understand why Sensei couldn't just cook up some sort of cover story for me; if he could clear my work schedule, that should've been a piece of cake!"

He paced the entire width of the clearing a couple more times before coming to a sudden stop in the middle, facing away from where Rufus sat watching him. "It's part of the trial," he muttered, snapping his fingers. "I'll bet almost anything that's why he didn't come up with a cover story for me; it's part of my trial!" Spinning on the spot, he strode quickly to where his workout bag and his pet were and gathered them up, placing Rufus on his shoulder. "Come on, Rufus; we have to cook up a story for Kim that won't result in me either ending up dead or single… or both."

* * *

Meanwhile, not too far away, an unsuspecting Kim was humming softly to herself as she dried and put away the dishes from breakfast; twitching her hips in time to the song in her head. Every now and then the humming would escalate far enough that one could catch the odd word from the lyrics, but not enough to completely discern what song it was.

Doctor James Possible peeked up at his only daughter from the breakfast nook over the top edge of his newspaper and grinned as he watched her at the kitchen sink. "You remind me more and more of your mother every day, Kimmie-cub," he said with a hint of humor in his voice.

"What do you mean, Dad?" she said, turning to cast a quizzical gaze at her father.

James closed his paper and folded it up, putting it on the table before answering. "When we first got married, your mom was constantly humming and singing to herself whenever she did anything around the house; especially if she was cleaning or washing dishes. The way you were standing there and half-dancing and humming, well… for a second it was twenty years ago."

Kim giggled at her father as she grabbed a plate and started drying it. "Having a bit of a nostalgic moment, are we, Daddy?" she said as she placed the dish in the cupboard.

"I guess you could say that," he chuckled. "Sometimes I just want to forget that my little girl's all grown up," he added wistfully.

"Aw geez, Dad," the teen heroine sighed as she put the tea towel she'd been using on the counter and approached her astrophysicist father, "you don't have to be so melodramatic about it. Yeah, I'm out of high school now and going to college in the fall, but I'm still me."

"And we—your mother and I—couldn't be any more proud of you than we already are," he added as he smiled up at her. "I just find myself wishing I could go back to those days when you were still playing horsey on my knee and asking me to teach you to ride your bike without training wheels."

An understanding grin crossed Kim's lips. "I think you're just going through what every father goes through when he realizes that his daughter's not the little girl in pigtails anymore," she said as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him. "Just remember that no matter what, I'll _always_ be your little Kimmie-cub."

"I know, sweetheart," he whispered as he hugged her back, "and for the record, I have no problem with the pace that you and Ronald are progressing at; he's a fine young man that any father would be glad to see his daughter with."

Kim kissed him on the cheek at the admission he'd just made. "Thanks, Daddy," she said softly, "that means a lot to me."

James glanced at his watch as Kim slipped from his arms. "Holy Toledo; if I don't get moving, I'm gonna be late for work!" he exclaimed, his father-daughter moment having preoccupied him. Draining what was left in his coffee cup, he quickly grabbed his briefcase from beside the table and stood up just as his wife entered from the living room. "I'll see you tonight, dear; love you," he said, kissing her briefly on the lips as he headed for the door.

Anne glanced at the clock and then turned to Kim with a quizzical eyebrow raised. "Your father's never this late getting out of the house," she said with a hint of surprise in her voice. "Any idea what held him up?"

"We just had an impromptu father-daughter moment," Kim replied with a shrug. "While I was drying the dishes and putting them away, he said I reminded him of you when you first got married; that's what started it all."

"Let me guess; you were standing at the sink and half-dancing to a song in your head?"

"What can I say; I'm my mother's daughter."

The elder redhead laughed as she playfully hip-checked her daughter. "Well, come on, daughter; show me some of those moves and help me with the living room. Since it's just the two of us, we can crank up the stereo."

Twenty minutes later, an oblivious pair of redheads were in the living room of the Possible home, dusting and tidying the room to the unmistakable strains of Guns 'n' Roses; both women too absorbed in the driving beat from the massive stereo system to notice when Ron entered the room. Even though he was dreading the task that awaited him, at the same time he couldn't help but take notice of the sight that met his eyes when he first entered the room. _I guess the old saying's true; the apple _doesn't_ fall far from the tree._

He'd always known that Kim had gotten the majority of her physical features from her mother; other than the green eyes she'd inherited from her Nana Possible, there was no question that her hair and overall build came from the O'Reilly side of the family. Now, seeing his girlfriend and her mother similarly dressed in old, cut-off jeans and tank tops, moving to the beat of "Paradise City" as they cleaned, it was obvious to the young man that Kim had also inherited her dancing grace from her mother. _I wonder if Mrs. Dr. P used to be a cheerleader in high school, too._

Any further musings were interrupted at that point as Kim noticed her boyfriend standing in the doorway and turned the music down. "Hey, baby; what're you doing here?" she asked as she stepped up to him and planted a quick kiss on his lips.

"Well, hello, Ron," Anne chimed in cheerily as she watched her daughter greet her boyfriend.

Ron took a moment to savor the feeling of Kim's lips on his and her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her lithe body pressing against his. After the conversation he was about to have with her, he wasn't sure if he'd ever have the opportunity to feel it again, so he figured he better enjoy it while he could. "Hi, Mrs.—I mean, Anne," he said, acknowledging her mother as his arm settled around his girlfriend's waist.

"Not that I'm not glad to see you, but I thought you had to work today," Kim said as she disengaged from their embrace.

"I did, but something came up," he replied, unable to hide the foreboding tone in his voice as his reason for stopping by came crashing back into the forefront of his mind. Casting a pointed look at the woman he loved like a second mother, he continued. "Can we talk alone for a minute, Kim?"

"Sure," she said with a baffled glance at her mother. "I'll be right back, Mom."

"Okay, sweetie," Anne replied apprehensively as she watched the two teens leave, hand-in-hand. She'd noticed from Ron's body language when she first saw him that something wasn't right, and she knew without a shadow of doubt that Kim saw it, too. She just hoped whatever was on the young man's mind, his best friend/girlfriend could sort it out and return him to his usual, happy-go-lucky self.

Kim led Ron to her bedroom and sat down on the foot of her bed, patting the spot beside her for him to sit down. "I can tell something's on your mind, Ron; what's the sitch?" she asked once he'd taken a seat beside her.

Ron took a deep breath as he prepared to do something he'd sworn since the battlesuit incident at the beginning of their senior year he'd never do again: lie to Kim. "Well, it's like this, KP; I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I think I'd like to get a little more in touch with who I am and where I came from."

"Where you came from?" Kim repeated, nonplussed. "I hope you plan on clarifying on that, because so far you're not making much sense. We both know that you were born and raised in Middleton, your parents are Dean and Jean Stoppable, you're my best friend, my boyfriend and my partner; what more do you need to know?"

"I don't mean where _I_ came from in a literal sense; I mean my family's roots," he explained. "I'm leaving tomorrow for Tel Aviv."

Understanding dawned on the teen heroine's face, quickly replaced by confusion again. "Are you going alone?" she asked, sounding almost hurt.

Ron took her hands into his much larger ones and held them tenderly as he looked into her eyes. "I'm sorry, KP, but this is something I have to do myself," he said sincerely. "Maybe when we're out of school or on summer break we can go together and I can show you some of the things I found, but this feels like something I should do the first time alone."

"How long are you going for?"

"Three weeks."

"O-okay," she stammered, the thought of not having him around for that long starting to weigh heavily on her mind. "At least we'll be able to talk with the Kimmunicator."

Ron shook his head sadly at that statement. "I'm not taking it with me," he said. "I'm gonna talk to Kate and see if she'll stand in for me if a mission comes up while I'm gone."

One thing that Kim Possible was famous—or _infamous?—_for was her volatile temper. In a unit of time yet to be defined, the redhead's emotions spun from slightly put-out and upset over her boyfriend going away to downright, chew-nails-and-spit-tacks _mad._ "I sincerely hope you were joking when you said you weren't taking your Kimmunicator with you," she seethed dangerously.

He'd been afraid of this reaction and hoped whatever damage might be done to their relationship as a result would be reparable when he was able to make contact again. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he forged ahead. "No, Kim; I wasn't kidding," he whispered. "I have to do this without any distractions."

"So that's all I am to you, huh? A _distraction?"_ she spat, wrenching her hands from his grasp and standing over him with her hands on her hips and fire in her eyes. Even though she only stood five-foot-seven to his six-feet even, she easily towered over him as he looked at her from where he still sat. "What in the hell could I possibly distract you from, except maybe the latest _Zombie Mayhem_ game?"

"It's not like that, KP…"

"Oh, no!" she interrupted, a full-blown tirade building up inside her. "Don't you _dare_ 'KP' me, buster! You're the one that came in here and just dropped the news on me that not only are you taking off to Israel—that part I understand completely—but you're going _off the grid!_ Ron… I can't talk to you right now; I think you should leave."

"Kim…"

"Now, Ron," she insisted, not meeting his gaze as she pointed at the trap door leading to the lower levels of the house.

Sighing, the towheaded young man slowly rose from the foot of the bed and shuffled toward the stairs. When he reached the top step, he turned to face her; only to see she had turned so her back was to him and had wrapped her arms around her torso. "I love you, Kim," he said softly, hoping she would turn around and look at him again.

She didn't, but when she spoke, he could hear a slight quiver in her voice; one that he was sure only he and her parents would ever notice. "You've got an awful funny way of showing it," she whispered.

"I'm sorry, Kim." With that, Ron descended the stairs and left the Possible home.

Kim remained standing in the same spot for some time, staring at the photograph on her nightstand from their junior prom; the night they shared their first official kiss as a couple. After a couple of minutes, she realized she couldn't see the picture clearly anymore; it was only then she realized the tears she had been trying to hold back were starting to win the battle. Sniffling heavily, she blinked—causing one large tear to roll down each cheek—and turned away from the bed, staring instead at a spot on the floor by her feet.

"Kimmie?" her mother said softly from the trap door. "Kim, what's wrong? Ron looked miserable when he left; did you two have a fight or something?"

"Nothing's wrong, Mom," Kim replied, still staring at the floor and fighting to keep her composure, "other than my boyfriend is apparently an asshole in disguise."

"What are you talking about, Kim?" Anne asked as she entered the room and approached the younger redhead. "What's going on between you two?"

Kim took a shaky breath as she turned around and finally met her mother's gaze. "Ron just told me that he's decided he wants to get back to his roots, so he's taking off tomorrow for Israel… and he's not taking the Kimmunicator with him," she said, her composure breaking with every word.

"Did he say why he wasn't taking it with him, or why he didn't ask you to go along with him, for that matter?"

Kim sniffled and nodded before she spoke. "He said he felt like this trip was something he had to do by himself," she explained, her expression turning bitter as she continued. "He said he didn't want any 'distractions' when he went, so he wouldn't be taking the Kimmunicator with him."

Anne sighed deeply as she digested the information she'd just been presented. She really wasn't sure what to say that would help to calm her fiery daughter; especially when it came to matters of the heart… and _especially_ when she felt herself sympathizing with Kim's ire once she considered how she would feel if her husband fed her a similar line. As it turned out, however, she didn't need to think of anything to say just yet, as Kim's tirade continued.

"He didn't want a 'distraction'! Is that all I am to him now, a fucking _distraction?_ Where does he get off telling me that I'm a distraction to him? He's been the goddamned distraction for the last five years!" she raved, anger being the prevalent emotion at the moment.

"Kimberly Ann, that is enough!" Anne snapped, using her best "mom" voice. "You may be an eighteen-year-old woman now, but don't think for one moment I won't drag you into that bathroom and wash your mouth out if you keep that kind of language up!"

Her mother's lecture had the desired effect and took the wind out of Kim's sails. Exhaling deeply, the teen sat on the foot of her bed again and rubbed her tear-stained cheeks. "I'm sorry, Mom; I'm just so hurt and confused right now that I'm not thinking."

"I understand how you feel, Kimmie," Anne said softly as she sat down beside Kim and placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. "I can't say that I know exactly how you feel, but I can understand why you're upset."

"'Upset' doesn't even begin to describe the emotional roller-coaster I'm on right now," Kim muttered with a derisive snort. "I mean, is this something I should be mad about; is it something that should worry me… what does it mean?"

"I wish I had an easy answer for you, sweetie," Anne murmured softly, "but I don't."

Both women sat in silence on the foot of Kim's bed as mother tried to comfort daughter in any way she could; for the moment, that simply meant being there with her as she processed the events of the past few minutes. It pained the neurosurgeon to watch as the younger redhead's emotions played out in the various expressions that crossed her face, culminating when more tears started to roll down her cheeks.

Finally, with a mournful wail, Kim broke down and buried her face into her mother's shoulder and started bawling like she hadn't done since she'd fallen off her bicycle and skinned her knee when she was five. "I don't get it, Mom," she sobbed. "After all we've been through together; after everything we've shared… how can he not trust me enough that he has to completely cut me off? Do you think… do you think maybe he doesn't love me anymore?"

Anne heaved a deep sigh as she held her weeping daughter. She had to admit that the theory _was_ more than a little plausible. Ron's sudden departure was out-of-character enough that it could be argued that it was the last act of a desperate man trying to run away from something… or someone. If that proved to be the case, then her opinion of Ron—to say nothing of her husband's—would be sorely diminished.

On the other hand, however, she felt she knew Ron better than that. Even with all his eccentricities and foibles, he was a brave and respectable man; not to mention she knew for a fact that he had more respect for Kim and their relationship than to just run away if something wasn't right. That fact alone told her that there was likely more to his sudden departure than met the eye.

Taking another deep breath, she finally spoke. "Honestly, I don't think so, Kim," she said. "As—_unique,_ shall we say—as Ron is, I really think if that was what was going on, he would've talked to you about it."

"You really think so?"

"Think about it this way; what was Ron's biggest worry when the two of you started dating?"

Kim took a moment to consider her mother's question as she grabbed a box of Kleenex from her nightstand. Withdrawing a tissue and wiping her eyes and nose, she finally spoke as she wadded the used paper in her hand. "He was scared that if we didn't work out as a couple it would ruin our friendship, too," she finally said.

"So if he was so concerned about your friendship surviving when you started dating, do you really think he would throw it all away like this if he felt that being romantically involved wasn't working out as originally planned?"

Kim took a deep breath as her mother's logic—as sound as ever—sunk in. "Not a chance," she said. "Ron's a lot of things—most of which are parts of what make me love him as much as I do—but ever since we got together, he's always been ready and able to talk to me if something was bothering him."

"I agree," Anne said with a nod and a small smile. "Time and again he's had faith in you and proven how much he loves you… this time, maybe you should have a little faith in him."

"Thanks, Mom; I needed this," Kim said, sitting down beside her mother and embracing her tightly. "It doesn't change the fact that I'm more than just a little piss—I mean, tweaked about him just taking off and totally cutting himself off from me like this, though."

"You certainly have the O'Reilly temper," Anne chuckled, ignoring Kim's near-slip, "and quite frankly, I don't blame you for being pissed off at him. Having said that, I think you have too much invested in your relationship to let this be the absolute be-all and end-all of it."

"So I should just let this go, is that what you're saying?"

For the first time since their conversation started, Anne's countenance darkened as she responded. "Not a chance," she stated vehemently. "If you lived together, I would say make him sleep on the couch until after your next Shark Week; as it stands right now, I would say cut him off for at _least_ that long."

Kim flushed lightly as she listened to her mother speak so candidly about her sex life, but she was quickly becoming accustomed to how accepting both her parents were of her relationship with Ron and soon recovered. "Provided he's got an acceptable reason for this stunt he's pulling—better than the line he fed me, anyway—I might banish him for a week. I don't think I could handle cutting him off for that long; if he comes back when he said he would, I'd just be finishing Shark Week right around then, so that would mean almost two months."

An almost evil smirk crossed the elder redhead's lips. "Trust me; if you're mad enough at him and you've got as much of me in you as I think you do, I think your anger and adrenaline will overtake your libido and you won't give it a second thought. Besides," she added, "a woman doesn't _always_ need a man to satisfy her cravings."

"_Mom!"_ Kim cried in exasperation, her cheeks flushing bright red. "I'm just getting used to the thought of you being okay with the fact that Ron and I are active and now you're talking about that?" She paused to take a couple of deep breaths before she continued; the color finally starting to leave her cheeks. "Are you _trying_ to scar me for life?" she asked with a sidelong glance at her mother.

"If I was trying to scar you for life, I would tell you where and when I lost my virginity," Anne deadpanned. Bumping her shoulder into Kim's, she stood up and held a hand out to her daughter. "Come on, you look like you could use a little pick-me-up to take your mind off this for awhile; how about we get changed and spend the afternoon at the spa, my treat?"

For the first time since Ron had first dropped his bombshell announcement on her, a hint of a smile graced Kim's features. Taking her mother's hand, she allowed herself to be pulled to her feet, allowing her momentum to carry her into Anne's arms, where they both embraced. "Thanks, Mom," she whispered.

"What're mothers for?" Anne replied as they disengaged. "Meet me downstairs in ten minutes and we'll go."

"Okay," Kim nodded as she watched her mother disappear through the trap door leading downstairs.

* * *

_A/N: I figured this was as good a spot as any to stop; I considered continuing on, but it seemed like a decent spot to end the chapter. Ron's in hot water with Kim, Global Justice has been tasked to find the newly-escaped Peregrine and Kate appears to have a new admirer. Among the things to look forward to in the next chapter will be the dinner with Kate and Jake (Kate: "It's NOT a date!") and some more details into the final trial of the Monkey Master._

_Thanks for reading, and remember: leave a review, get a response!_

_Cheers,  
Deuce_


End file.

Kim Possible, Adventure, Romance