Kim Possible 1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is an older work of mine; been rattling around on my computer for about a year now. I wasn't too sure about posting it, until I read daccu65's story "Monkeyfist's Christmas" (which I _highly _recommend, by the way), and realized this is pretty much the time of year to get spirtual, even on . **

**So. . . religious/Christian content. If that offends you, please don't read and please don't flame. Thanks. :)**

There had to be something on besides the news.

Really, where were the game shows? The talk shows? The gardening channel? The channel where people sat and stared at each other and then suddenly yelled at each other about taxes?

Okay, fine, but maybe there would be something on the news besides. . . that. Didn't they cover sports, and the weather, and which celebrity he'd never heard of had broken up with some other celebrity he'd never heard of. . .

__

Come on.

But, nope, nothing. Nothing but the same footage over and over and over and over of giant cybertronic toys smashing skyscrapers and people running for their lives, screaming and crying.

Funny, he hadn't noticed that at the time. Actually, the whole thing was kind of fuzzy in his brain. He just knew it had seemed like such a good idea back then. . . .

And then they showed a little girl nearly getting trampled. _Really _little. Six years old, maybe less. She had pigtails. Why did she have to have pigtails? Why did there have be a little girl at all? Why?

He shivered. Why did they turn the air conditioning up so high in here? It wasn't as if it were the middle of July. It was only May. Or June. He hadn't changed his calendar in a while.

Not that there were any calendars to change in _here_.

Then the footage shifted to some guy standing there in a snazzy, sparkly suit. Shiny. His eyes were in mean little slits, and the smile on his face was. . . pure evil. Fancy-Suit Guy looked familiar, like he'd seen him somewhere before.

_That can't be me._

No, it wasn't him. It was the shadow in his nightmares, the one that always came out and laughed wickedly at him and made him cower. The only time he was scared, of course. At night. In the nightmares. In the day, of course, he was completely in control.

Well, maybe. Maybe.

He drove his fork into the supposed-to-be-edible glop on his tray. It was a weird little plastic tray, like the kind in a school cafeteria. He pushed the glop around on the tray, hoping it would look like he was eating.

Someone was standing over him. A guard, hands on hips. "You know, pal, if you don''t feel like eating right now, we can't save it for later. We ain't your mother.

"I'm not hungry."

He shoved the tray away and buried his face in his arms, folded on the table. Prison food was every bit as bad as its reputation said, and it didn't go down easily.

It didn't _stay _down easily, either.

And not just because it was so bad. He'd been feeling weird ever since he'd gotten here - sort of weak and wobbly all over.

The guard grunted. "Suit yourself."

"Hey." It was out of his mouth - because he needed to ask _someone_. "Is everyone all the over the world seeing that footage?"

"Yeh." The guard sounded like he wanted to spit. "Everyone sees how evil you are. Are you happy now?"

No.

Bizarre, because that was what he had been wanting for a long, long time. And if _everyone _was seeing this -

_Mother._

She had to know by now. Even _she _couldn't miss this. He squirmed in his seat. _She's not going to be proud of me anymore._

"Lunchtime's over."

Oh, rats.

As awful as that was, he hated going to back to his cell. Solitary confinement, they called it. No cellmate yet, and it was far too quiet.

So quiet he'd taken to talking to himself, just so he wouldn't have to be alone with his thoughts, about his mom and his latest failed scheme and the little girl with the pigtails and the guy in the fancy suit who was him but couldn't be. When all those thoughts came and hurt his brain, he wasn't sure what to do.

Except cry. Or throw up. Or pick things up and hurl them across the room.

He'd already done the first two, and there wasn't a whole lot in the cell he could pick up and hurl across the room. Well, he hadn't tried ripping the sink off the wall, but that probably wouldn't be the best thing to do.

If only Shego was still around to bounce things off of. Even if she would snort and curl her lip and say rude things, she would at least break the silence. He could tell her about how he was such a genius until he'd convinced himself.

He'd asked the guard one day where she was. "In the women's prison," he'd replied.

There was a separate prison just for women? Why?

Actually, he'd asked the guard that, too. He'd said something about, "So she won't have to share a cell with men like your cousin."

He wasn't sure what guys who liked cars had to do with Shego getting a whole different prison. But nothing made much sense anymore.

A sudden thought ripped through the tornado in his brain. If his mother was seeing this on the news. . . would his dad, wherever he was, be seeing it too?

__

Would he even recognize me?

That did it. He picked up his pillow to throw it against the bars - and a piece of paper floated down.

Weird. He didn't remember putting that there. Of course, his brain was still pretty fuzzy right now. . .

He unfolded it.

__

What does it profit if a man gains the whole world but loses his soul?

The food he hadn't eaten scrambled toward his throat. The room seemed even smaller and darker than it had five minutes ago.

_Is that from the Bible?_ he wondered.

It sure sounded like it - in fact, he was pretty sure he'd heard it as a kid in Sunday School. But it couldn't be, because it sounded like it was written just for him.

"What exactly would losing your soul look like?" he asked the cot and the sink.

Probably something like the guy with the fancy suit and the evil smile and the cold eyes.

The rest of the paper said,

_God still loves you. It's never too late to go to Him - especially when you don't have anybody else. _

_We'll talk some more soon._

He felt that weird little chill again. Strange, there wasn't any air conditioning in here.

He reached his hand up into the black unknown out the window, as if a star would fall right into his palm.

Right before he pulled it back in, it almost felt like someone squeezed it.

In reassurance.

**()()()())()**

**Well, that's it. Hope you enjoyed. I've been working on something warm-n-fuzzy, so I'll probably be back within the next couple of days.**

**Have a Merry Christmas or whatever you happen to celebrate. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay. I lied. **

**I didn't mean to - I honestly thought it was just going to be a one-shot - but then I found another old thing taking up space on my PC that I realized could serve as a conclusion. If you though the previous chapter stood well on its own, you don't need to read this, but if you thought it could stand a wrap-up, here it is.**

**Same notes about religious content apply. **

Drakken swallowed - hard - and stepped up to the microphone. With shaking hands, he gripped the side of the podium. This had been a weird week. At the beginning of it, he'd been trying to take over the world. Now he was getting a medal for _saving _it.

"Would you like to say a few words, Dr. Drakken?" the man at his right in the fancy suit asked.

He nodded, numbly. His mouth was far too dry to answer. His head went back and forth, back and forth. On one side of the auditorium, people were cheering and clapping, rising out of their seats, faces beaming.

For him. That was for him. After all this time, people were clapping and cheering for him. And without him using mind control or anything on them.

__

They like me! They really like me!

On the other side of the auditorium, all the villains sat with their arms folded over their chests, scowling. They weren't happy for him - they were angry. All but Lucre, who was jumping up and down and waving a foam finger that read "Drakken #1."

Still, these were the people who were supposed to be his friends. His allies. The ones he'd shared so many years of his life with. And here, here was the best thing that had ever happened to him. And they were angry.

Something shifted in Drakken, and he put his hand to the medal. It was shiny and golden, and he could see his own confused face reflected in it.

He could also see Shego, smiling gently. Gentle wasn't a word he had ever used to describe Shego.

But some of the hardness had slipped off her face in the last week.

And then he knew what to do. "H-h-hello," he said in the microphone. Funny, he'd never thought of himself as shy. Matter of fact, Shego said he was a downright ham on karaoke night.

But this was far more important than karaoke night.

"My name is Dr. Drakken. I'm assuming you guys have probably all heard of me." He reached around and wiped the sweat off the back of his neck. "You know, I used to try to take over the world. . . that kind of gets you noticed."

A few people chuckled, and Drakken felt himself break into a smile. They really _did _like him!

_Whoa. . . did I just say "used to"?_

That jolted him right to his bones, and he gripped the sides of the podium even tigher. "But I-I-I saved it last week, and I'm not quite sure why. I mean, I need to live here, too. . ."

More chuckles.

". . . and I guess I saw just how ugly it is when someone tries to conquer the world and forgets about everyone besides themself. I - don't want to be like that anymore."

He couldn't tell anyone, for the life of him, where that came from. But it was out of his mouth, and the crowd was cheering louder than ever. Louder than he'd ever heard anyone cheer.

He stepped away, and after that things were kind of a blur as everyone stepped forward to shake his hand and congratulate him. But they came into a sharp focus when a little figure stepped forward and hugged him around the waist so tight it took his breath away.

"Hi, Mother," he gasped out.

She looked up at him, and Drakken noticed that her face was streaked with tears. Why, he wondered, did girls cry when they were happy? It was one of the many, many things he'd never understood about them.

"Oh, Drewbie," Mother said, voice quivery. She reached up and put a hand on his cheek. "I'm so proud of you. So very proud. I always knew you were a good boy."

From somewhere in the room, Professor Dementor's harsh laughter rang out. Drakken felt his cheeks go red. "Thanks, Mother," he whispered.

"He'll talk to you at the buffet afterward,"

Shego added, waving her off with a hand.

There was a buffet later? He felt the drool collecting at the corners of his mouth. He fumbled around his pocket to see if he had a Kleenex or something - and felt his hand touch a scrap of paper.

He pulled it out, unfolded it, and read:

__

The people who are forgiven for the most stuff usually change the most.

Now, go use that wonderful mind of yours for good!

It was just like the note he'd gotten around this same time last year. When he'd been in jail for - he shuddered; best not to think about that. Still, that "wonderful mind of his"? No one had ever told him he had a wonderful mind. Except for Mother, but she was his mother. She _had _to say that.

After that, a woman with an eye patch walked up to him and shook his hand and introduced herself as Dr. Director of Global Justice. That gave him an uneasy feeling in his stomach. He knew about Global Justice. He'd _fought _Global Justice. They didn't like him much.

But she said that he'd handled himself quite nicely that day of the alien invasion - that he'd done the world a tremendous favor, and she was proud of him for deciding to do the right thing. At least she wasn't hugging and kissing and crying, the way his mother did. Something told him this lady wasn't a hugger. Or a kisser. Or a crier.

"Mr. Drakken," she added right before she left, "we could use your skills at Global Justice. If you need a new occupation - " she tucked a business card into his hand and closed his too-surprised-to-move fingers around it - "give me a call."

Drakken could only nod numbly. Had she just said what he _thought _she had just said?

Before he had time to ponder it, though, a big square hand came down and swallowed up his own tiny, scrawny one. Drakken looked up into the face of Dr. James Timothy Possible.

He felt the hackles go up on the back of his neck, and his middle began to churn. This must be how Commodore Puddles had felt when he was cornered by bigger, meaner dogs at the shelter - growling out of fear as much as anger.

But when James spoke, his voice was quiet and meek. "Drew -" he suddenly jolted, as if he'd been poked in the back - "err, Dr. Drakken."

"Yes?" Drakken replied. He hoped his voice was as cool as Shego's always was when she talked to people she didn't want to deal with.

"You saved our planet - and probably my daughter. I -" James stopped and sucked in a huge breath. "I was wrong about you. Your plans came through when it really counted."

"And?" hissed a voice from behind him.

"And you appear to have a great deal of goodness in you.

"And?" the voice repeated.

"And," James ran a hand over his hair and looked Drakken straight in the eye, for the first time in a long, long time, as an equal. Not in anger, not in defiance, not in contempt, but just one person looking at another. "And I am very sorry for what I did to you back in college. I hope someday you will be able to forgive me.

It was shock number one thousand four hundred and twenty-one to his system. He didn't want to forgive James. But he also didn't want to obliterate him with a doom ray. He supposed that was a start.

"I can't forgive you, yet," Drakken muttered under his breath. "But - I believe you're sorry."

James gave a polite nod and turned to go. Hanging onto his back, finger poised to poke him, mouth in the shape of the word "And?", was Kim Possible.

Yep. She was definitely all that.

**()()()()()()**

". . . and that's why I'm blue." Drakken raised his head and looked around the room. "Um, Dementor? Where did you go?"

Where had _everyone _gone, as a matter of fact? The only one left in the room was Shego, perched on the edge of a chair, eyes fastened on a magazine.

"Shego?" he asked.

"Well, you're finally done." She flung the magazine onto the table. "Everyone else went into a different room half an hour ago."

Drakken felt his forehead bunch up. "So, why did you stay?"

Shego's mouth twitched. "Do you know how amusing it is to watch you yammer on to yourself when you think people are listening?"

He only blinked. "You were listening."

"Halfway." She shrugged. "I was _somewhat _curious about why you're blue." She got up, straightened her shoulders, and headed toward the door. "Come on, Pal, let's go find everyone."

Drakken froze. "What did you call me?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Pal."

Shego smiled with one side of her mouth. "No, I came up into space and saved your hiney because I despise your blue guts. Sure, we're pals now."

Those words sounded somehow familiar."My blue guts?"

"Don't you remember? 'Ever since you left me to rot in jail, I've despised your green guts.' You left that on my Villainster blog? While you were in prison?" Shego raised one hand and twirled her finger around in the air, as if trying to stir up his memory.

It worked, and Drakken felt himself bristle again. "I was young and immature then!"

Shego's mouth looked ready to twitch right off her face. "It was six months ago!"

The heat rose back to his cheeks. "I could have matured a lot in six months!"

"You could have." Shego gave her head a shake. "But you didn't.

For some reason he couldn't begin to name, Drakken felt some of the indignation drain out of him. He suddenly felt - responsible. Almost mature. "I _am _sorry I said that," he began. "Did it hurt your feelings?"

Shego threw back her head and laughed - something he'd rarely seen her do. "Are you kidding? It was one the funniest things I ever read!"

"Oh."

What did he do with _that_?

Once he got into the room where all the other villains were, Dementor pounced. "I am sincerely hoping you were being a kidder when you were saying you 'used to try' to take over the world. You are not giving up, are you?"

Drakken looked at his accusing face - at all their faces, all waiting for his answer. He froze up like an old computer. "Shego," he hissed. "I can't do this."

To his complete and utter astonishment, she slipped her hand into his and gave it a tiny squeeze. She'd never touched him before when she wasn't trying to hurt him - well, except for that one time, but he tried not to think about it. Emotion controllers were so frightening.

"Actually, Doc," she whispered. "I think you can."

He gaped at her. Just gaped. Her green eyes were bright, but her mouth wasn't twitching. What was this and what had it done with his life? "You're not just saying that?" he asked.

Shego gave a softened version of her snort."You must be thinking of your other sidekick or something, Dr. D. I never 'just say stuff.'"

Yeah, she was right about that.

So he turned to Dementor, looked him square in the eye - those eyes that mocked him since their first meeting, those eyes that had danced when he challenged him to find out who could take over the world first - and answered, "No, I wasn't kidding. I'm changing. You said so yourself - I'm better at this. And I want to be better."

All was silent. All the villains stared at him, disbelief and utter repulsion in their eyes. Drakken wanted to slink away and hide under a table somewhere.

Until he felt a hand on his arm, and looked down at DNAmy. Her pudgy, freckled face was absolutely beaming. "You're so noble, Honey-Bunny."

Shego snickered, and Drakken felt his face going red again.

"That must have taken a lot of courage," DNAmy informed the rest of the still-gaping villains. She whipped her head back to Drakken and gave him her gap-toothed grin - the one that he'd once fallen in love with. "I want to be like you someday, Drakken."

There was only one thing to say to that. "You know when you told me you hoped we could still be friends?"

DNAmy nodded eagerly.

"Well - I hope we can, too." He wasn't sure where _that _came from, either. He was starting to scare himself.

"Yeah! I wanna be like you, too, Drakken!" That, of course, came from Frugal Lucre, who was still pumping the foam finger in the air. For once, he wasn't annoying.

Things became another blur then as Eddy gave him a noogie and reassured him that he had been "seriously wicked" while defeating the aliens, and Senior shook his hand and wished him the best of luck on his new path and Junior shrugged and asked for his autograph. Camille and Duff and some chick named Adrena-Lynn shook their heads and left. And Dementor leaned in, eyes gleaming, and said, "Well, you know what that is meaning. I win!"

"Oh, no, Professor Demented," Shego said - loudly, from the back of the room. "You _so _do not."

"But - but," Dementor sputtered. "I will be the one taking over the world first now!"

"Maybe," Shego replied in her usual bored tone. "But who says that's winning?

DNAmy began to clap.

Dementor snarled and slunk out of the room.

And then two pairs of lanky, red-clad arms were suddenly tied around Shego's neck. "Hey, sis!" chirped a voice.

"What's up?" added another.

Shego jerked away from them just as Drakken realized they were her younger brothers. And her older brothers were standing not four feet away.

"What do you guys want?" Shego demanded. The old angry glint was back in her eyes.

"We just wanted to say we think it's so cool that you saved the world!" one of the younger brothers chirped.

The biggest brother, the one with the blue hair, squared his shoulders and coughed. "Just like old times," he added, voice thick.

"Don't mention 'the old times,' Hego," Shego said between her teeth.

"We're just proud of you, Sis," added the purplish brother, tossing his head. "Who knew you still had it in you?"

"We're not talking about it," Shego replied, voice coming out in measured little doses. Drakken knew from experience that meant she was about to explode.

"Well, _we're _graduating next week," one of the younger boys interrupted. "Will you come see it?"

All of the air hissed out of Shego in one big, noisy sigh. "Okay. Sure. Why not?" She flung her hands in the air.

"And would you be interested in a 'Turning from Villain to Hero' pamphlet?" the biggest brother asked, holding one out.

Shego pushed it away with one hand. "Don't push your luck, bro."

"So," Drakken asked awkwardly once her brothers had left, "are you reforming, too?"

Shego shrugged mysteriously."Who knows? It's been a while since I did the whole hero gig. Maybe it's not as annoying as I remember it."

**()()()()()()()**

_To Do List:_

_1. Call that nice Dr. Director lady - tell her I want the job._

_2. Call Mother - thank her for the new teddy bear she sent over because the old one blew up._

_3. Try to find a house - in the same neighborhood Shego's looking for one._

The night air outside the lair - the formerly-evil lair - the one that was so big and foreboding and lonely - anyway, the air was cool and crisp, with the promise of summer. And the stars were stil looking down at him, still twinkling the way they always had. Commodore Puddles was asleep inside, in Drakken's bed. But Drakken, himself, couldn't sleep.

_I always knew you were a good boy._

That kept running through his head, mingling with his own voice saying, "News flash, Shego. I'm a bad man." He'd said that right before he'd stolen that kid's wheelchair. And after that, he'd tried to suck all the oxygen from the earth's atmosphere. And after that -

He shook himself. He may be a good boy now, but those things didn't just go away. They would always be there, haunting his memories.

Unless -

It didn't come to him in words. It came to him in a picture of the pastor of his church a long, long time ago praying with some lady at the very front of the church.

Oh, yeah. He remembered all that now. His Sunday School teacher - what was her name? - had explained all about God taking away your sins and making you a brand new person.

Well. . . it was about all he had left.

He tilted his face up into the night wind so God could see him better. "Jesus," he whispered softly. "I-I'm really sorry I tried to take over the world and stuff. I really, really do want to be better than this. But I remember Mrs. Whatshername - and Mother - saying I can't do that on my own. So - help me, okay?"

Drakken wasn't sure what he'd expected then. A huge stream of light to fall from heaven and bathe him in its golden glow, or maybe the wind to pick up and whip his hair around all dramatically like something out of _The Lion King._ But none of that happened, and when he glanced at himself in the shiny side of the lair, he was still blue. And he still had the scar.

But his chest felt just a tiny bit warmer. Just enough to make him reach into his pocket and pull out the scrap of paper he knew would be there.

_Welcome to the family, boy._

_It's over. You never have to go back there again._

And so it was.

And so he didn't.


End file.

Kim Possible, Spiritual