Kim Possible belongs to Disney. This is a work for fun not profit. A fan fiction by Six-string Samurai

Rated M for a reason folks, don’t cry to me saying no one warned you. Contains themes of an adult nature, reader’s discretion is advised.

No Such Things as Monsters

“What, Shego,” Kim asked a second time, calmer, more…in control of herself. Just being in the same room as the comet-powered woman was steadily easing the suffocating feeling that had been hanging over her like a shroud the past week. Already, the horrible night had passed, barely more than a whisper now in the back of her mind. There was no room for anything else right now, her focus completely taken by Shego’s presence. “Tell me, what can’t you do? Just tell me, and I’ll do it,” the redhead moved across the carpet, sidling up to the taller woman. “That’s just how it works. I help you, and you,” Kim leaned in closer, tilting her head to get the thief to look at her, “help me.”

Shego kept her hands clenched at her sides, refusing to acknowledge the teen. Kim was right, all of this was her fault and she’d been stewing in her own guilt for three straight weeks. As if the nightmares weren’t enough, and the dull burning pain in her leg wasn’t a reminder of what she’d done. This Kim didn’t want to forget. Those trembling tear-streaked eyes were offering not forgiveness, but the return of a terrible dream.

As if summoned, Shego’s fist unfolded, pressing faintly against the heat radiating from her hip, the raw ache that had been plaguing her, robbing her of sleep. Her hand came away warm and sticky, her palm glistening with a red sheen. It must’ve been when I hit the cabinet, she realized with a slow glance downward. Sure enough, a dark blotch was growing down the side of her slacks. A sharp intake of breath against her shoulder broke the momentary daze.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Kim snaked around behind the taller woman, snagging the wrist of her bloody hand with one arm, and reaching up with the other to tilt Shego’s head back and to the side, intent on breaking her balance.

“Wait, what,” Shego blustered, twisting to try and reverse the hold, but Kim pulled hard, letting herself fall backwards, sending them both tumbling, a tangle of limbs on the couch.

Shego found herself on her side, one of Kim’s legs wrapped around her waist, and the grip on her neck tight, just short of cutting off her air. The angle she was bent back at killed what little leverage she might have had, and Kim still had a grip on her arm, holding it twisted up behind Shego’s head. For a moment, she had a free hand and lit it up, recalling too late that the most it would do was ruin the upholstery. Then the arm cranking her neck tightened. Snuffing the glow out, she wedged her hand up between the crook of Kim’s elbow and her own throat, passing out right now was the last thing she wanted. “Kimmie,” she gritted out, “Kim, let…go!”

The ex-villain rocked hard to the side, trying to pull them both off the couch, anything to break the iron hold Kim seemed to possess. All it served to do was unpin the cheerleader’s right leg, which snapped free and scissor around, cementing Kim’s hold. It was getting harder to breath with a pair of what felt like steel bands, constricting on her sides. To add insult to injury, the hand that Kim had captured was getting a different kind of attention. A soft wetness played across her palm, sliding around her fingers, lingering for a moment then darting away. Shego tried to close her hand, but insistent pressure twisting against her wrist and side of her thumb kept it a futile gesture.

There was a faint tink as Shego’s manicured nails clicked against a harder surface. Teeth, her mind supplied drunkenly as the blood to her head thinned. The warmth returned, along with a gentle but insistent pressure, sliding erratically over her palm. Kim’s licking up the blood, she realized as her vision clouded.

*****

“Shego,” a whisper tickled at the edges of her waking, begging to be let in. “Shego,” a little more insistent, almost recognizable. “This isn’t nap time green bean, you’re sucking all the fun out.”

The unfamiliar name brought a crinkle to her brow, and cracking open an blurry eye invited only a headache inducing glare from beyond the edge of Shego’s awareness. Shapes and blurs of color slowly resolved into things she could place, a forest green lampshade, a picture on the wall that she’d lifted from a London art gallery three years ago. The pony tailed redhead sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at her. Kim, what the hell is Kimmie…oh, right, Shego rubbed at her throbbing temples. It all came rushing back, a little sketchy, but mostly there. Finding the teen passed out on the bathroom floor, the mess, the kitchen…the bleeding. Kim.

Still marshalling her thoughts, Shego sat up, thumping her back against the headboard.

“I didn’t think you would just conk out like that, guess I don’t know my own strength anymore, huh,” Kim gaze wandered around the room, eventually drifting back to Shego. She was obviously waiting for something, but exactly what, the comet-powered woman wasn’t sure. The teen’s focus seemed to slide lower as Shego racked her brain, trying to decide what she was supposed to do about this craziness.

“What have you been doing, Shego,” Kim asked, scooting herself across the sheets, until she was brushing against the other woman’s feet.

“I don’t…what are you talking about? I should be asking you that, Princess,” she was all set to keep going, when Kim put a hand on her leg. Light pink on a long expanse of green. “Kimmie, where’d my pants go?” Shego looked down and found Kim had almost completely undressed her, leaving her in a half-buttoned dress shirt and panties. The feeling of wrongness increased, compounded by the feathery touch against her skin. Shego was far from uncomfortable in her own skin, quite the opposite, most of the time. Hell, she’d spent almost two weeks stark naked not ten feet from this very same girl. Of course, said girl had been borderline delusional almost the entire time. But, right now…she felt, exposed.

“I’m talking about this,” Kim slid her hand all the way up Shego’s thigh, stopping to touch the edge of an oval gash. Puffed up around the edges with thick scar tissue, the wound was about the same size as the hand brushing against it, an angry weeping valley of red out of place on an otherwise blemish free green that seemed to stretch forever. There was a faint hint of concern in that voice, mingled with curiosity.

But, it was the expression on the redhead’s face that Shego was focused on, that, and the slender fingers that were beginning to trace an ever-shrinking circle around the raw wound. She knew full well what Kim was asking, it was obvious after all, especially after Kim’s own little display in the kitchen. There was no way Shego’s injuries would take this long to heal. The presence of any kind of recent scar, a mystery waiting to be unraveled.

Of course, that wasn’t all that was on Kim Possible’s mind just then. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue, Shego,” she slid closer, leaning across the bed to bring herself even closer.

Warm breath against her skin distracted the thief even as she was working on an answer, and a plan.