Kim Possible Fan Fiction ❯ Contested Intentions ❯ Middle Stretch ( Chapter 3 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

A gloved fist cut through the air, but was intercepted on a bare forearm long before it reached its full momentum. Without delay, a strong, straight kick followed it, but was evaded easily by the lithe form it had been aimed at. The counter, a side kick aimed high and for the shoulder was only just barely avoided. A punch, pure and simple, acted as the retort, but was caught in palm and stopped dead, and the same happened to its cousin, which came in opposition to the original's owner. Thus locked, each holding one of the other's fists, Kim and Shego entered a lull in their combat.

It had started instantly when Kim arrived with Ron, neither truly in the mood for engaging in the obligatory banter this time, and once Ron and Drakken ran off to play their game of cat and mouse, the two were alone with their battle. But, for once, it simply wasn't enough for Shego, not by itself.

“You know, on the way here, Dr. D told me this was going to be his last time.” She commented as they struggled against one another. “He's going to let you guys hand him his backside one more time, and then he's retiring.” Shego couldn't hold it back, she needed Kim to know.

Or rather, needed to know how Kim truly felt about her, now that they weren't going to see each other again, even if only for a time.

“He is?!” Kim cried in surprise, and sensing an opening in the form of the other woman's distraction, Shego went to play her trump.

Even as the jet-haired sidekick concentrated to bring the flames of green plasma into existence around her hands, she felt Kim's foot impact the underside of her jaw with devastating force, knocking her head over heels and away while the cheerleader finished the back flip that came out of the original kick.

“What about you, Shego?” Kim asked, even as she fell into a ready stance, waiting for the green and black clad criminal to get up from where she'd fallen.

With a chuckle, Shego found her feet again, and played at her jaw just a little to make sure it was still in relatively good, working condition.

“Dunno,” she responded simply, having ascertained that she was no worse for the wear, beyond a cut on her lip that was sluggishly dribbling blood.

Immediately following that, Shego's whole body threw itself into a lunging leap, blazing hands leading her strike with their deadly heat, and Kim knew from experience that the only way to respond to that particular assault was to dodge. Even though Shego left herself open to numerous counterattacks with such an aggressive form, none of them were guaranteed to stop the dangerous combatant, and just a touch of those hands could cause immense damage. And so, Kim leapt back, landing several feet from where she'd been and where Shego landed, smoothly dropping into a crouch to avoid the twin bursts of blazing energy the villainess fired even as she landed. From that position, legs coiled beneath her, the heroine sprang straight for her opponent, and only just barely managed to throw her arms up before her head in defense, as Shego anticipated the move and countered with a solid drop kick.

The blow sent Kim flying away, though Shego could not immediately pursue her, leg numbed by the combined force unleashed when her kick met the impetus of Kim's attack. So, when the cheerleader-turned hero expertly turned the tumble into a controlled roll and came out of it in a crouch, she had a moment to speak.

“Seriously, what are you going to do?” The green eyes that looked across the distance between the two combatants were hard, determined, and Shego smiled faintly, knowing that Princess wasn't going to let her shrug off the question.

“I really don't know, actually.” She tested the leg first, shifting some of her weight onto it for a moment, and when it held she began a leisurely stroll toward where Kim now stood. “I'm not retiring, but it's going to be hard.” Briefly, she glanced in the direction that Drakken and Ron had retreated, up a ladder and down a catwalk into the distant and out of sight areas of the facility. “I'm too damn used to having him around.” She muttered darkly, a twinge of anger entering her voice.

And, out of the corner of her eye, Shego caught the aspect forming in the green depths of Kim's eyes, the emotion of sympathy. It was bad enough that she was so soft as to actually need someone as worthless as Drakken, but to be getting sympathy from her opponent? She wasn't going to stand for that, she didn't want Kim's sympathy for her “plight,” she wanted her fist, her strength.

“You seemed a little less close to the sidekick this time around, what's up with that?” The jet-haired criminal asked as she continued to draw closer to the other woman's position, hoping to shift the focus of the conversation and get that look out of Kim's eyes.

The question struck Kim, almost visibly, and her eyes fell to the floor, expression unreadable.

“We're not really together anymore . . .” Despite that fact, she was still able to turn aside the punch that Shego threw in her impatience to get fighting again.

“Why's that, he seems like a nice enough buffoon?” The criminal continued, even as she threw a right hook and a left jab combo straight for Kim's face.

The first caught only air, and the second briefly slid through the heroine's fiery mane before it finished following her down into her crouch, which rolled instantly into a powerful uppercut that Shego only just barely managed to catch.

“I . . . dumped him . . . for . . . another guy . . .” The younger woman growled out, though with no real malice, through her gritted teeth as she struggled against Shego's superior position, leverage wise.

A lightning fast disengage and sweep, though, dumped the green and black clad villainess onto her side on the ground, at Kim's level.

“What happened to the- . . .” Shego's question was interrupted by a strong grunt as she blocked a kick from Kim with her forearms. “The new squeeze?” She managed to finish, before rolling away to avoid the next kick, and by the time the jet-haired woman found her feet again, her flame-haired foe was waiting for her.

“Lost interest.” Kim answered simply, even as she struck at Shego with a fast series of punches and kicks that left the suited villainess scrambling to dodge and block every one, leaving her no time at all to even consider counter attacks.

As was often the case with such a form of attack, though, Kim's all-out assault was difficult to maintain, and soon her flawless form faltered. Shego saw her opening, dodging Kim's next backhand and then catching and trapping it in the crook of her elbow, locking the heroine to her. Then she struck with her right fist, crushing it into Kim's stomach with vicious force. The attack knocked the orange-haired woman back and away, as Shego's other arm had automatically released the lock when a throb of white-hot agony rolled from her right arm and into her body. Through the haze left behind over her mind by the stroke of anguish, Shego dully realized that she'd probably managed to embed a shard of glass in her knuckle when she broke that mirror, causing such pain as it was crushed further between the bones in her hand by that punch.

Having been forced to take several moments to regain her ability to breathe after such a devastating blow, Kim fully expected to find Shego standing over her, one foot planted on the heroine's chest in victory, when she opened her eyes. Instead, she found the green and black clad woman standing in the same place they both had been before that punch, her right shoulder sagging and arm hanging limply, green eyes glazed over with pain.

“Shego?” Kim asked worriedly, taking a cautious step closer to the other woman as she did so.

As soon as the flame-haired dare devil's voice reached her, though, Shego snapped out of it, growling as she righted her body and brought her fists up in a boxer's stance. Even if Kim hadn't seen her until then, though, the blood staining the knuckles of Shego's right glove would have given the whole thing away regardless.

“Shego, you're hurt . . .” Kim whispered, her voice burdened with an emotional pain that had sprung up in her the moment she realized that the criminal was injured.

“What's it to you, Possible?” Shego snapped in response, clenching her fist so tightly in her anger that the bloodstain nearly doubled in size, excess pressing through the fabric of the gloves to run down her arm and drip to the floor.

“Did I . . . did I do that to you?” Kim queried hesitantly, misinterpreting Shego's sudden surge of anger, feeling as though her heart had been cut and she was bleeding to death inside, at the thought that she might actually have harmed Shego.

And, at the sight of the flame-haired Princess' obvious torment, Shego's anger dissipated like so many wisps of smoke in a strong wind.

“No, not really.” She said quietly, looking down at the floor before her feet. “I did it to myself.” Her fist unclenched with the admission, and for a time, there was only silence between the heroine and her villainess.

Then, quite suddenly, Shego found Kim holding her right wrist in one hand with the utmost care, while doing her best to gently remove the glove that covered Shego's injured hand with her remaining hand.

“What are you doing?!” She cried, trying to wrench her hand from the younger woman's grasp, but found that Kim effortlessly followed its movement and kept her delicate hold on the suited criminal's wrist, refusing to allow it to slip from her grasp.

“I'm going to take care of it, it's the least I can do.” Finally, the concerned heroine succeeded in removing the glove, and couldn't help but gasp at the virtually soaked through with blood bandage that remained wrapped around Shego's knuckles.

Snarling in rage; at her own weakness, at Kim's attempts to take care of her, and most of all, at the part of herself that so desperately wanted Kim to care for her; Shego struck out at the cheerleader. To her chagrin, it was evaded with ease, as were the next six, all while Kim kept her tender hold on Shego's wrist and carefully unraveled the bandage from her hand.

“Oh my god, what did you do to yourself, Shego?” The younger woman's distress only became more prevalent in her voice as she finally viewed Shego's injuries, all the glass cuts reopened and some even made larger and more severe by her exertions.

The torn villainess' answer was nothing more than a roundhouse kick, which Kim vaulted without even being conscious aware of doing so, as far as Shego could tell, and that only stoked her rage further.

“God dammit, Kim, I want you to fight me, not care for me!” It was at that moment, as Shego shouted those words at her, that it finally clicked in Kim's mind.

She cared for Shego, that was the only way to explain why it wounded her so deeply, that Shego was hurt, and . . . why it frightened and saddened her so much that she might never see Shego again after that mission. She hid it well, but that knowledge had been weighing on Kim's thoughts since the very moment that the soon-to-be-unemployed sidekick had mentioned that fact. Now the true question needed to be answered, exactly how much did she really care for Shego?

“Stop, Shego, just stop.” The green and black clad villainess didn't listen, didn't want to listen to what Kim was saying, and slashed at her with a plasma charged hand, finally forcing the younger woman to abandon her hold on Shego's injured hand in order to avoid the attack.

But Kim's will was adamant, she refused to let it go on any longer.

“I'm not going to fight you any more, Shego, you're injured, you need help.” At the words, rage boiled up in Shego's eyes, turning their normal green to a livid shade.

There was something more than fury there, though, another emotion that Kim thought might well be fear.

“What, did you suddenly lose your spine, Kimmie? Too scared to keep fighting me, coward?” Shego jibed venomously, trying to force the fight out of the heroine, but Kim was unfazed, realizing the truth behind her facade.

“No, I just don't want to hurt you, I care too much about you to risk that.” She sidestepped the flying kick Shego unleashed at her pronouncement with ease, the move made clumsy and predictable by the furor that fueled.

“Why?!” Shego screamed at Kim as she brought even her injured hand to bear in a vicious flurry of claw swipes, the plasma flames enveloping the berserk criminal's hands coming close enough to burn a few hairs from Kim's head.

But the younger woman was totally in control, and though the ferocity of Shego's attack had initially caught her off guard, it had become pathetically easy to avoid by that point. In fact, she didn't even need to watch the villainess' movements, she needed only to stare straight into Shego's green eyes, and all became plain to her. But, as she stared into those viridian depths, Kim saw something else as well, namely the mercurial currents of conflicting emotions running through them.

“Why are you doing this to me?!” Shego roared, throwing her head back and closing her eyes so that Kim couldn't look into them any longer, not wanting her to pierce the veil. “Why are you taunting me like this, dammit?!” A blaze, an unstoppable inferno of green flame gathered about her raised hands, and Kim's eyes shot wide open.

It was her instinctive dive straight for Shego that probably saved Kim from a great deal of pain, as she slipped just below the unleashed holocaust and then hit the enraged criminal dead center, bowling her over and precluding any further attacks. Of course, Kim's instincts hadn't counted on the possibility of awkward positioning, for example, her face being planted rather firmly in the cleavage of Shego's breasts. So, her face covered in a surprisingly flattering cherry-red blush, the cheerleader got the enjoyment of apologizing profusely to her arch-nemesis, who was staring down at her with eyes just about ready to pop out of their sockets and a similar blush, though Shego's was tinted with just the faintest shade of green as well.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry, She- . . .” Kim's apology stopped dead in its tracks when she felt arms slowly wrap around her body, one slipping about her waist while the other crossed her shoulders, just before a hand laid itself on the back of Kim's head, gently pressing it down.

For just a moment, she felt a gentle pressure shifting the hair on the top of her head about, but then it was gone, as was the hand on the back of her head. Looking up, she found Shego gazing down at her, a smile on her almost serene face.

“You know, I always wondered what that'd be like.” She murmured without taking her eyes away from the younger woman atop her. “I love the citrus, and with that little hint of lavender . . .” It broke, though, as Shego's expression twisted, wrenching sadness destroying the perfect harmony. “I wish I could fall asleep . . . to that smell . . . every night . . .” At that point, Kim was virtually thrown from her perch on Shego, a loss that the cheerleader's body felt quite acutely, as the suited villain scrambled to her feet.

And, staring at the back of the older woman, watching as the waves of her midnight black hair rippled ever so slightly with the silent sobs that Shego didn't want Kim to see, the girl who could do anything realized exactly how serious everything had become. She wasn't sure then, if she really loved Shego that much, in turn. But what she did know, what she was sure of, was that she couldn't stand to see her upset like that. Thus, she stood up from where she'd been thrown, and took a deliberate step closer to Shego, making sure that her footfall rang quite loudly.

Words are such an inelegant form of communication. Blunt, clumsy, lacking in subtlety except when wielded by the most skillful of linguists, and easily misinterpreted, they were simply not suitable for the information that both women needed to convey then. And so, Kim fell into her ready stance, legs set wide apart to lower her center of gravity and strengthen her balance, body shifted sideways to present a smaller target for attack to her foe, and hands held up before her, one almost straight out, and one held high and back near her face, a balance of offense and defense. Instead of speaking through foolish words, just as likely to shatter like poorly made glass sculptures and cut one another with those broken shards of meaning as to convey true meaning, she wanted them to speak from their souls, with the purest form of communication known to man: competition, struggle, fighting, combat. So intricately tied to the souls of both women and absolutely separate and inviolate to the tendrils of the normal world, the battlefield was where the two could “speak” and be heard, away from all else but one another and their own feelings. They would fight, and they would find out the truth.

It took a moment or two, as Shego's arm came up to, presumably, wipe away what tears were in her eyes and on her face, but finally, she turned about to face Kim. She did not ask why the heroine was suddenly interested in fighting her again, did not need to ask, she simply raised her injured hand and flexed it, clenching and unclenching a fist. Satisfied that it wasn't causing her too much pain, she smiled and fell into her own stance. Kim acted first, closing the distance between them with startling celerity, but stepping off just as she came within range and into a spinning backhand that Shego only just barely managed to get her forearm up to block. Surprisingly, the blow ghosted off of her guard, like waves breaking on a rock face, revealing Kim's true emotion: she would not hurt Shego, could not with care and affection guiding her blows. The green and black clad criminal flowed effortlessly into the action, back-stepping the right hook that followed on the heels of the backhand, and then slid flawlessly into a barrage of hits, a few of which scored on her offensively oriented foe. Shego's strikes were not quite as gentle as Kim's, less like breaths of air on the skin and more like playful, childish shoves, but still they were just as benign in nature, just a little more whimsical.

Kim hopped back on one foot to escape the attack, and Shego eagerly pursued, only to catch the younger woman's boot right in her stomach, stopping her dead, but then evaporating from beneath her without effect. The criminal smirked at the cheerleader, who smiled impishly in return, and nodded to acknowledge her point. And then she was right before Kim, arm catching her around the neck and under the chin, bearing her to the ground in an unstoppable throw, which conveniently allowed Shego to also run her fingers through Kim's silken mane as she brought the girl to ground. Kim “impacted” the ground with all the force of a child being lain down for bed, and even as she struck, her hand caught on Shego's shoulder, one pull overbalancing the villainess onto her kneeling leg and bringing her right down beside the heroine. Neither took any particular hurry in getting up, but when they finally did, they were smiling. They stepped apart, distancing in preparation for the next round, and when they were finished, they turned to face one another. And then, they moved.

But this was nothing in the linear sense of the word, from point a to point b, this was life, activity, a virtual dance step. They were moving, shuffling, stepping, shifting, sliding, rolling and bouncing within a rhythm, a fast step that was set by the beating of two hearts in synch, as one. The distance between them shrank, even as they didn't appear to be actively approaching one another, as if they were being drawn together by an outside force, by magnetism, by sheer attraction. They came together, and blows flew in a sublime explosion of activity, so many being traded so quickly that it seemed utterly unreal, otherworldly even. What was even more amazing, though, was the fact that not a single one of them actually landed, despite the perfection of form that each and every attack possessed. So in tune were they then, the heroine and her arch-nemesis, that they both knew exactly what the other would do before they even did it, making the battle a perfect stalemate, absolutely futile to continue fighting.

They didn't care. The competition didn't matter then, seeing who was ultimately the better wasn't their concern. They kept fighting because they wanted to know, to realize and express the feelings that neither could put into words, yet. But even then, they fought each other because they simply loved to face one another, wanted to fight, in one way or another, for the rest of their lives. They realized as much as they clasped hands and locked elbows, seeking to cancel their ability to retreat in any way, and in that moment, they stopped. Their bodies and souls were assured, but there was still one part of them that needed to know, their minds.

Due to being the most “rational” of the three aspects that make up an individual, the brain can often be the most foolish of the three, lacking the ability to simply believe in something without concrete proof.

And so, still so close to one another, arms locked together, they gazed into each other's eyes, mirrored viridian lenses showing the same emotions. And they leaned in closer, a touch of nervous energy now in those eyes, until each had the other's ear, lips so near that they could feel them trembling in anticipation of the words that would soon pass over them. And, with a faint, hot breath each, they went to whisper the truth only to each other, so no one else could hear.

“Shego, I . . .”

“I . . .”

“KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIM!” The obnoxious voice fairly echoed throughout the whole compound, and as soon as its reverberations touched their ears, Kim and Shego were virtually thrown apart, as if by some unseen force. “Kim, I stopped Drakken all by myself!” Ron cried from on high, standing on the catwalk just above the two, drawing the eyes of both the heroine and the villainess to his position as he hefted the defeated doctor up onto the railing. “I didn't even need Rufus' help!” He added, the naked mole rat in question popping up out of his pants pocket and nodding affirmatively.

“Yeah-huh.”

“The final disgrace . . .” Dr. Drakken muttered, his spirits obviously broken, and as if cued by the mad doctor's words, Global Justice agents came pouring into the facility in droves.

Shego looked back to Kim, expression torn and eyes wracked with an indescribable agony, and the girl who had thought she could do anything returned the look, as the realization struck her as well. The moment was gone, there was no time left, and it was over. The criminal turned and bolted, effortlessly battering her way through whatever obstacle presented itself in an attempt to impede her escape, be it an agent of Global Justice, a super computer stack, or a simple office chair. Shego succeeded in doing that, reaching the outer wall of the building and simply blowing through it, because Kim had stood there and watched her go, unable to even try to stop her.

She was so terrified, frightened to the very core of her being, that she would never see Shego again, and that thought broke her heart in two. Almost more paralyzing than the fear, though, was the knowledge that there was nothing she could do. If she stopped Shego, GJ would just take her into custody, and there was the fear that they might finally succeed in holding her, in that case. Kim's knees buckled, as she watched Shego's form vanish into the snowstorm raging outside the research facility compound, and dumped her to the ground in a heap, oblivious in her despair to Ron's worried calls of her name.