Chapter Text
Kim Possible approached the solid steel door as if its vertical handle had fangs. Each leaden step echoed ominously in the long, sanitized hallway. The room ahead whispered a promise of poison. It crawled under the door, seeped into the air, and called Kim to battle.
There couldn’t be anything else behind the door. The reverse polarizer was gone. There was no way—she had no way back to that fleeting moment. It had been so long, but Kim still remembered. She laughed about it with Ron, but it wasn’t funny. She would never get her back—and it stung like an angry hornet, but she’d forced herself to leave it behind.
It lasted six days. It was barely a blip on their timeline. But she’s almost sure, almost certain, it was the reason Shego kept saving her life. And she’s almost sure, almost certain, it’s the reason she’s still alive today.
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
Dr. Director’s impatience snapped Kim to attention. There was nothing to hope for—Shego was Shego, and Shego wanted nothing to do with her—so why was she hoping? She took a deep breath and yanked the interrogation room door open. A rush of cool air barreled past, lifting her hair and dispelling the haze of anticipation.
The first thing Kim noticed about Shego was her eyes. They were wide, glassy, and flared with brilliance as she stared at Kim. Kim could only stare back, back at the business jacket and skirt combo, back into lost days.
A pair of reinforced tungsten-carbide handcuffs shackled Shego to the steel table. They liquified as she rushed forward, hands and forearms obscured in blinding green. Kim grunted as Shego leapt into her so hard it almost knocked the wind out of her. She was swathed in a massive, exuberant, and admittedly, pleasant hug.
“Kimmie! Oh, I missed you sooooo much!”
Two Global Justice agents rushed through the opposite door, guns at the ready, responding to the blare of an alarm. Kim frantically waved her hands behind Shego’s back and shook her head. The agents glanced at each other, then holstered their weapons and retreated. Kim puffed a big sigh of relief, but there was collateral damage. Shego hopped back as if slapped, lips pursed and eyes downcast in a sheepish display of shame.
“Ah, um, I’m sorry, I—
Kim had no time to gape at how utterly crushed Shego looked. Instead, she slammed into her with equal force and squeezed tight. A smile split her cheeks as she heard a wheeze. She tucked her forehead into Miss Go’s warm, navy-tweed-clad shoulder.
“I missed you too, Miss Go,” she said.
And she meant it.
A cornucopia of red, orange, and yellow leaves crunched beneath Kim’s feet. She was leading Miss Go to her modest two-bedroom apartment. It was located a few blocks away from Global Justice’s underground Middleton base—though it was unlikely the other tenants had a clue. They weren’t willing to provide Miss Go with a place to sleep, fearing a sudden relapse. As usual, they were hoping Kim would deal with the complication for them.
And as usual, Kim was content to shoulder the burden. But this wasn’t a burden. This was Miss Go—and Kim would cherish every second she could claw Shego back from evil’s ruthless grip. They passed colorful boutiques and box stores, but Kim’s sole focus was the woman moving like a silken drape beside her.
Kim almost walked into a streetlight pole as they reached the end of the block. Miss Go managed to grab her before she became the next viral sensation. Kim stiffened, then glanced at the pole and flushed pink.
“Uh, thanks.”
“You’re very welcome. You should probably keep your eyes on the sidewalk,” Miss Go chuckled, her grin shining like a spotlight. In Kim’s opinion, with those lowered eyelids, she seemed way too pleased with herself. It was borderline gloating. Then Miss Go offered her arm, and Kim forgot about being annoyed.
Elbow in elbow, they crossed to the next block. Kim made a concerted effort to place one foot in front of the other—and watch herself do it. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this scrambled, unwieldy, clumsy, and careless. She attributed it to the initial shock still coursing down every limb, unabating, and it should have worn off by now, but it didn’t, and Miss Go was detaching herself, but she still felt the crackle—
“Oooh, this looks fun! Can we go? Please?”
Kim read the flyer Miss Go shoved in her face. It was for a haunted trail—tonight, in the dark, with loud noises and distractions at every turn—the perfect opportunity to slip away. Miss Go was in Kim’s care, and this was the last place Global Justice wanted them to be. But Miss Go was batting her eyelashes and it was kind of making Kim’s head fuzzy. A combination of nerves and sensibilities fought through the plea.
“I’ve had a long day. Besides, I see scarier things on a weekly basis.”
“But we haven’t hung out in ages.”
“Not my fault. You didn’t want to hang out with me when you were evil.”
“Mm…” Miss Go tapped the pad of an index finger to her chin. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. But—“ she winked “—I suppose I shouldn’t give up all my secrets. Even though I don’t mind giving them to you.” She followed up the devastating reveal about Shego with clasped hands and a cloying pout.
“Shego wanted to hang out with me?!”
Kim felt like she was hung up on a clothesline by the scruff of her neck and left to be buffeted by the gale. There was no way, right? There was no—there was—and it was past time to be honest with herself about it. As the years sauntered by, allegiances remained the same, but feelings kept evolving. Both women wanted to win, but when it came down to it, when the death ray was imminent, when there was no escape—they always saved each other. Again and again, over and over, and when Kim stared into Shego’s scrutinizing glare this past summer as she rappelled her to safety, she almost thought she saw—
“Kimmie?” Miss Go’s voice was like a downy comforter. “We don’t have to go if you’re tired.”
Kim lifted her stare from the pavement and snatched the flyer out of Miss Go’s hands. She smiled at the cartoonish ghosts and skeletons dancing amongst the text. It was way past time to be honest with herself, and way past time for them to be honest with each other. Kim wanted to spend time with Miss Go, and her resistance had more to do with nerves than concern about what Global Justice thought. So she did what she did best, and she snipped them at their axons.
“No, no, we can go. If it’s with you, I’m sure it’ll be fun.”
Miss Go was nonplussed by Kim’s sudden change in attitude. Her smile was kind, but it carried a note of something Kim had learned to dread. Miss Go raised an eyebrow and plucked the now-crinkled flyer away from Kim. She scanned it, smile widening with no small measure of glee.
“What made you change your mind? Did you find something that might scare you?”
“You did. I’m not afraid of anything, but you already know that,” Kim rolled her eyes despite being unable to wipe the grin from her lips. With oak, maple, and birch leaves spinning around them in autumn tones, even the concrete jungle felt like paradise. Kim caught a *whirligig in her left hand and flicked it at Miss Go. A swift pale hand caught it and flicked it back. It smacked Kim on the forehead. Miss Go stifled a giggle.
Well. Kim supposed Shego’s reflexes had nothing to do with evil.
“I think I know something you’re afraid of. Of course, it isn’t *helicopters, but you could stand to have a little more caution with those,” Miss Go cajoled, showing the whites of her teeth as she placed an expectant hand on her hip.
Kim stuck out her tongue, picked up another whirligig, and boomeranged it at Miss Go. The other woman dodged, but it spun back and nested in her hair, disappearing into luxurious black tresses. Kim giggled as Miss Go pouted, then spent a good fifteen seconds fishing it out.
“Your mother.”
“Huh?” Kim hummed, slipping the whirligig into a tiny secret pocket on the left thigh of her battlesuit.
“You’re afraid of your mother.”
“Am not!”
“Not even a little?” Miss Go squinted, but her neon irises bored into Kim. She raised her right hand—the thumb and index finger were extended and almost touching.
“Not even a little.”
Crap. Miss Go had all of Shego’s memories. It wasn’t much of an issue last time. But this time, Miss Go had five additional years of ammunition.
“That so?” Miss Go challenged, pulling the Kimmunicator from her right sleeve. “Should I call her and tell her you’re letting your mortal enemy sleep in your guest room?”
“Hey!” Kim’s eyes bugged and her stomach dropped. It definitely wasn’t because Miss Go wanted to call her mom. “When did you take that? And how come you’re stealing?”
Miss Go’s eyes widened in surprise. She offered the Kimmunicator in an open palm. “I took it when you retrieved your helicopter. I just wanted to make a joke—I’m sorry,” she apologized, eyebrows shooting up in worry. “It won’t happen again.”
Kim looked into Miss Go’s panicked eyes, and didn’t find any trace of malice. She stared longer than she should have—it was a marvel to see them so bright, so clear, so free of the brooding, looming darkness always closing in, cordoning Shego off—and shutting Kim out. Miss Go was open to her, and she wanted—needed this to happen. Nemesis or not, Kim wanted to know the woman she’d traded punches with for eight years.
“Don’t worry,” Kim smiled, lifting the Kimmunicator and making it vanish. “If you keep it up, I’ll just have to search you. No big.”
Miss Go relaxed and flung her arms up and to her sides like a scarecrow. She turned around and glanced back with a trusting smile. “Sure. I don’t have anything to hide.”
“Um…that was a joke,” Kim blushed, gently lowering Miss Go’s arMiss “C’mon, let’s get ready for the haunted trail.”
Both women couldn’t stop smiling as they trampled dead leaves and thin branches. The flashy boutiques lined up in a tidy row continued to hold no interest. They couldn’t stop glancing at each other. They couldn’t stop averting their eyes when they caught each other looking. Kim stepped in a puddle and soaked the right leg of her battlesuit. She couldn’t bring herself to care.
Miss Go had forgotten to stick the flyer back onto the storefront. Kim couldn’t blame her. It would be easy to return it on her way to work at GJ tomorrow. She had a strong suspicion Miss Go would be asked to accompany her.
Kim’s suspicion bore fruit an hour later. The Kimmunicator chimed, delivering a demand from Dr. Director herself: Kim was to take Miss Go back to Global Justice in the morning to discuss an arrangement. Though a drop of trepidation muddied her relief, this was good news. They weren’t going to throw Miss Go in prison—for now.
There was a knock at Kim’s bedroom door. She sighed at herself in the mirror. At 22 years old, she’d gained five pounds since her high school days—okay, maybe it was more like seven or eight—but it was all muscle, and all hard-won. She was still lithe, and fitter than ever—but women’s long-sleeve shirts in her size fit even worse than before. Would it kill them to sew in a little more fabric?
These days, Kim wore her battlesuit for every mission. Shego hadn’t seen her in anything else in a long time. Wade was churning out upgrades at a rapid pace. When she clashed with Shego—still often—they fought with equal strength. It was undeniable how much Shego held back when Kim didn’t have artificial superpowers to match. She grew to appreciate it, and wondered if there was a chance Shego would ever change sides again. She hadn’t imagined it could happen like this.
There was another knock—just a little louder. A voice like honey pooled through the generic white door.
“Kimmie? Are you ready to go?”
“Um—just a minute!”
Kim scrambled to hold two form-fitting tops against her chest; it was the fourth time in the last twenty minutes. Why did she care so much how she looked? She was nervous, and it was frustrating, because Shego saw her at least twice a month. Her battlesuit hugged her curves; it’s not like there was anything surprising lurking beneath it. Yet she was nervous, and it was frustrating, because Miss Go was beautiful—and she didn’t want to look out of place next to her.
Kim cleared her teal queen-sized bed in one simple leap and opened her bedroom door. She hung the two offending tops on its round handle. Miss Go’s choice of attire added to the unreality of the day. She was sporting an emerald green tank top and black athletic shorts—not exactly suitable for an October night in the upper Midwest.
Kim felt a bizarre lump in her throat. In an effort not to make the moment awkward, she managed:
“Do you have a jacket? It, uh, gets pretty cold at night.”
Miss Go shook her head and sighed. Kim ignored the way her long locks shimmered as they caught the final rays of the retreating sun.
“No. I didn’t have time to pack much before I ran from the lair—but I don’t want you to worry. You see, I don’t really get cold like most people.”
Kim blinked, mulling that over. It made sense, but Shego never mentioned it. She wore heavy coats in Arctic conditions, same as anyone else. Figures it was just for show—like when Shego wore the Club Banana coat Kim desperately wanted just to make her jealous.
“You can borrow my clothes until we can buy you some new ones,” Kim offered, knowing full well Miss Go was five inches taller and at least two cup sizes larger.
“I can’t buy new ones.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because I gave Global Justice back all the money I stole.”
Kim was thrown off-balance. Miss Go didn’t give up Shego’s money the last time this happened. What changed? The last time Kim encountered Shego was two weeks ago, and she was her typical evil, snarky self.
“How long have you been good?”
Miss Go’s eyes widened, and she went as rigid as a marble statue. Kim put a comforting hand on her upper arm. Miss Go blinked and squinted, as if chiseling through a memory block of hefty limestone. She leveled Kim with a baleful gaze and admitted:
“I stopped feeling comfortable at the lair about nine or ten days ago.”
“Why did you stay?” Kim asked. The soft query didn’t slice with the shank of an accusation, and Miss Go accepted it. If this were Shego, Kim was sure she’d find an attack where there wasn’t.
“Dr. D seemed so lost without me. I felt bad for him, so I wanted to help, but I…when I saw his plan to make every volcano in the Ring of Fire erupt, I just knew…I couldn’t do it anymore.” Miss Go’s shoulders and head slumped, and she canted forward a little, as if begging for an anchor. “I still care about him, but he’s evil, and I’m not, and I just can’t—
I understand. You were by his side for a long time. But you made the right choice, and I’ll be here to help you every step of the way. I know it’s a big change.”
Kim stepped into Miss Go’s body without hesitation. She threaded her arms around her torso. Soft cotton compressed beneath her fingers. Warm skin radiated heat into her cheek. Touching Shego—Miss Go—without the promise of blood and bruises, without the spectre of punishment and pain—was rare, and Kim reminded herself not to get greedy. Shego was like a trapped animal when vulnerability was in play, and she wasn’t sure if her defensiveness was caused by evil.
Kim’s concern was assuaged for the moment. Miss Go mushed against her, reciprocated, and shuddered an exhausted sigh. Kim rubbed her upper back, and she hummed appreciatively.
Miss Go trembled, and before Kim could ask, she whispered: “I know he’s evil, but I’m still worried about him. Now that he doesn’t have me…” she trailed off into anxious silence, the weight of her words hitting Kim like a sledgehammer. Yes, she would catch Dr. Drakken with ease without Shego to fend her off. No, he would not be afforded a degree of clemency like Miss Go. He would go to prison, and this time, Shego would not be breaking him out.
Kim disentangled herself from Miss Go, whose morose frown threatened to rip into her heart like a hawk’s talon. She wished she could offer a more concrete assurance. She held sway over Global Justice, but had no control over the court system. There was, at least, one promise she knew she could keep.
“I’ll do the best I can for him. Is there a chance I could get him to turn good?”
“Honestly?” Miss Go shrugged. “It’s not likely.”
“Anything’s Possible for a Possible,” Kim recited. She smiled with copious, earned confidence. The dense fog obscuring Miss Go’s happiness wafted clear. Her smile of relief was genuine, but it covered a hidden agenda. Before Kim could protest, Miss Go slyly peeked over her shoulder at the mess of outfits strewn across her bedspread.
“That—I’ll get dressed in a sec,” Kim breathed, embarrassment airbrushing a pink tint on her cheeks.
“If you’re having trouble picking an outfit, I can help,” Miss Go offered, her smile innocent and supportive. Kim’s blush deepened as her traitorous cortex conjured images of herself modeling outfits for Miss Go. Where had that come from?
Miss Go opened her mouth. Kim decided to save herself from turning burgundy and shoved her two accursed tops into Miss Go’s shoulders. One was a sky blue cotton blouse with a pleat around the short sleeves. The other was a dark olive green satin button-up with a notch in both of its short sleeves.
“Fine. Which one should I wear?”
“I think you would look great in either, but…” she studied each shirt like she was pouring over a difficult math problem, then thrust the olive green one forward. “This one matches your eyes.”
Kim bit her lip to hide her smile. Of course Miss Go chose the green one, despite expanding her color palette when good. Wait—did she want the two of them to match? Kim accepted the shirt and ushered Miss Go back out into the living room. She closed the door. Once she was hidden behind it—safe from armor-piercing, ever-perceptive emerald irises—she blushed again.