OK, so I'm giving this FanFiction thing a try. Go easy on me.

Two storylines, no waiting. The one in Middleton's going to be a fairly straightforward romantic comedy bit, but the other... you'll see. I look forward to your comments.

Where do we go from here?

It happened. It happened, and then, it was over.

Two teens passed through the double doors of Middleton High School, hand in hand. In the past hours they had thwarted a madman's bid for world conquest, fought a climactic battle against evil, and shared the most significant, romantic, and passionate kiss of their young lives. The thwarting and battling were normal occurrences for this particular pair. The kiss, however, was a new one.

"Kim?" The young man cleared his throat.

"Yeah, Ron?" She was blushing.

"That was…"



The pair lingered together by the entrance, staring off into a clear night sky. It was late, and an unseasonable cold snap had chilled the May air. Kim couldn't help but shiver a bit.

"So, Ron," she asked without looking, "Where do we go from here?"

Ron didn't have an immediate answer for that. He stared off into the sky, as if the truth would be spelled out for him on the moon. "I don't know. Where do we go from here? What's next for us? What is the destination, the safe harbor of this good ship called Relation?"

"Uh, Ron?" She wasn't sure he understood the question.

He pushed ahead, undaunted. "These are uncharted seas. We're off the edge of the map, baby, and here there be monsters!" He grew louder, and struck a jaunty pose worthy of Lewis and/or Clark.

Now she was sure he didn't get it. She didn't care. Her boyfriend (and oh boy did that phrase sound weird applied to Ron) was off on one of his trademark wild tangents. She wouldn't have it any other way.

"Mere moments ago, in that gym, we embarked on a journey neither of us packed a change of socks for! No, Kimmy-kins, I know not what strange and new experiences await us over that romantic horizon, what exotic ports of call our Love Boat might visit, but this I do know, for absolute and true!"

He turned to face her directly. His tone was low and serious. "Wherever it is we go from here, I promise I will be with you, and we will go there together as a team, solid and unbreakable!"

She almost felt bad for him. But the enjoyable diversion had passed, and she still needed an answer. "Umm… no, Ron. 'Where do we go from here', like, to which house?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah."

"It was still sweet." Kim leaned in, and planted a quick peck on Ron's forehead. "And highly accurate."

"Yeah, well…" He trailed off, and was lost in her deep green eyes again.

They licked their lips, and readied themselves for an encore performance of the evening's climactic scene. Alas, it was not to be. The loud crash of opening doors behind them broke the mood.

"Not again! Seriously, people, public displays of affection on school grounds are clearly counter-indicated in the Middleton High student handbook." Second Lieutenant Steve Barkin (US Army 101st Airborne, retired) glowered over them from the doorway.

"Sorry, sir." Kim pulled into line with her new beau, and sheepishly looked down at her battered shoes and singed hemline.

Barkin's hard features seemed to soften a bit, though it may have been a trick of the moonlight. "Don't let me drag you down too much; Heaven knows I've bent a few regulations in my time, given proper motivation. But, please, don't leave this thing wandering around my school!"

Barkin lifted his hand. Curled up in his palm was a sleeping bald rodent. His little belly was distended, making it appear as though the frail pink creature was about to be the mother of a regulation-size softball.

"Rufus!" Ron plucked the little fellow from Barkin's grasp, and held him up like a proud father lifting his infant son. Rufus let out a massive burp, and blinked awake.

"Uuuugh," was all he could manage. "Full."

"It finished off the lion's share of the cheese dip while the two of you were," Barkin hesitated, searching for a suitable descriptor. "Osculating. Careful, it may retreat back up the entrance route, and soon!"

Ron gently lowered Rufus back to chest height, careful not to jostle him. "Thanks, Mr. B. I can't believe I was that, er, distracted!"

"I can," Kim quietly interjected, hoping Barkin wouldn't hear.

He apparently did not. "Now that's settled, so get off school property! You two are the last to leave, and I've got cleanup to attend to. Move!"

Kim hustled off, double time, to the parking lot. Barkin held Ron back.


"Yes sir, Brigadier Pixie, sir?" He snapped a salute.

"Humph. Congratulations. She's way too good for you."

Ron was not quite sure how to respond. "Uh, thanks?" He chased after his girl, by then a fair distance ahead. "Wait up, KP!"

Barkin went back inside, to orchestrate the disaster relief from the junior prom. He felt a certain sense of closure and satisfaction, as he chuckled to himself. "I just made fifty bucks in the faculty betting pool."

Ron caught up near the parking lot. Kim spoke first. "Your place."

"Eh?" Ron huffed a bit, short of breath from the sprint.

"I think we should go to your place," Kim continued. "My parents get first crack at all the big events, I think it's only fair that this time, yours do."

"Yeah, okay. I think they'd like that. Then, I'll give you a lift back home, and we can update the good doctors Possible on all the world-shattering bon-diggity news that fits!" The young couple arrived at Ron's little blue scooter. The machine had undergone a dramatic transformation in the last few hours; more dramatic even than the grandiose heroics it helped to create. Ron mounted the scooter first, and pressed the starter.

In their lives together as teenage freak-fighters, Kim and Ron had seen a number of spectacular mechanical failures. None of these were quite so dramatic, however, as what befell Ron's scooter in that moment. The increase in stress, brought on by the rocket engines and crazy stunts, had pushed the machine far past its breaking point. The scooter was held together by sheer hope and sense of purpose. That purpose had ended. With a pathetic sputter and cough, the frame, engine, tires, light and handlebars collapsed under Ron's weight into a tangled jumble.

Kim let out a quick gasp, and helped Ron rise from the pile. She said the first thing that came to mind. "Wow. Shades of the Blues Brothers, huh?"

"Yeah. I guess… I guess it was done." He bent down on one knee, like a knight of old mourning a fallen steed. A solitary tear fell to rest on the cracked engine block.

Kim tried to console him. "Hey, it gave its all for us, and more. And it lasted longer than I expected it to, for something the tweebs worked on."

"Yeah. I guess I'll be alright." He stood up tall, and put on his bravest face. "So, what, we hoof it then? Or call in a favor?"

"I guess so. Wait!" She opened her evening bag, and rummaged through the contents. "Syntho-boy was whining earlier, about his keys poking him." She produced an ignition key from her purse. "I suppose he was afraid of spilling his guts, the little phony."

Ron looked over Kim's shoulder, to the red sport motorcycle parked on the other side of the lot. "Kimberly Ann Possible, are you proposing we take someone else's stuff?"

"It probably belongs to Drakken, and I have no problem taking it from that goofy blue maniac." The two shared an impish smile, and raced each other to the bike.

Somewhere, a few miles past the middle of nowhere, a truly twisted pair lounged in an opulent foyer. They had been heavily tranquilized for hours, and were still groggy.

The green woman was first to regain lucidity. Her hair still had the telltale signs of a severe electric jolt, as if she'd lost a knife fight with a toaster. Okay, she thought, what have we here? Drugged, okay, in some kind of… hotel lobby? Velvet loveseat, ooh, posh! The Doc, he's over there, half out of it. Okay, I remember the shock, loaded in a police van, Possible and the buffoon… and that's it.

"Doc!" Shego shouted at her employer, trying to force some awareness into his addled head. "Come on Doc, look at me already!"

"Mommy," Doctor Drakken murmured to her blurry silhouette, still disoriented from the chemicals stewing in his brain. "Mommy, can I have a bedtime story, and maybe a warm cup of cocoa-moo?"

Shego slipped into her trademark snark. "Sure, my little Drewbie. Let me warm it up for you!" She flexed a muscle within her mind, to summon up her flaming fists-of-fury as she had thousands of times before. This time, as the light grew from deep inside her, she felt a searing pain shoot across her arms, like the skin itself had been peeled off and coated with Diablo Sauce. She was seized by the sudden agony, and pulled back her power. Then, just as suddenly, the pain was gone.

As her vision cleared, she checked out her hands. She found fingerless gloves, long and heavy, with mysterious mechanical parts and secure locks, clamped fast to her forearms. She then noticed her clothes, and Drakken's, had been replaced with fashionably cut black suits. The breast pockets bore numbers, hers seventeen, his eighteen.

"What the hell kind of…"

"Hell, Miss, it is not." A new voice filled the room. Its owner was a young Asian man, no more than twenty, in the uniform of the Global Justice Network. "Though outside these walls is another story." He had appeared without warning in the center of the room.

Shego pounced towards the newcomer in a blind fury, only to pass harmlessly through him, and fall in a heap on the other side.

Drakken was, at this point, beginning to regain his full faculties. "A hologram?" He knew enough to think the preceding was funny, and also enough to cut off the oncoming laughter. Shego did not like being the object of ridicule. "Been there, done that, bought the tee shirt. I take it you are our host, Mister…"

"Du, Special Agent Will Du, warden of the new Global Justice Super Criminal Interrogation and Detention District, Mark one." The young man had an air of haughty self-assuredness and snobbery that tweaked both villains to their very core.

"What, this is a prison?" Shego regained her feet, and leaned against the wall, restoring the sneer she usually wore to accessorize convict uniforms. "It's kind of swanky for a gulag. I'd be too tempted to just stay in here."

"Not the point, Shego. No prison can hold us, no matter how comfortable the seating. Ooh, is this real velour?" Doctor Drakken bounced in his seat.

"I believe that's an oxymoron." Agent Du was confused by Drakken's erratic behavior.

Drakken had a retort ready for that one. "Your mother's an oxymoron."

Du seemed a bit flustered. "My mother is a saint, and… never mind." He pushed his emotions back down, restoring his façade of unbreakable professionalism. "This facility is the latest containment system for hard cases like you, chronic escapees with scientific genius or superhuman abilities. You can never escape."

"No mere stone walls can hold us! So neener, and neener again!" Drakken gave the hologram a raspberry. Shego just winced, and held her forehead in her palm. "We'll be leaving shortly, so who's the moron now, huh? Shego! The door!"

She shrugged. "I can't!"

"What? What is it now, break time, sidekick high holy days, what!"

"No, I can't use my powers, these," Shego held up her hands, "things fry me when I try to power up!"

"Yes, an ingenious invention. Especially for you, Miss Inmate Seventeen." Will Du's hologram resumed his speech. "A powerful thermo-kinetic inverter system. Any attempt to use your powers, to damage anything or anyone, and you suffer the consequences. Although, if you wish to leave, there's the door."

The image beckoned to a massive steel vault door. With a wave of his hand, the locks disengaged, and the portal slowly swung open. Bitter cold and blowing show assaulted the two villains, chilling them to their already icy hearts. Du gestured again, and the door shut.

"Even if you can escape, that's all you have to look forward to. A quick frozen death."

Shego brushed some snow from her hair. "Where are we? Greenland, the Himalayas?"

"That information is classified. Now, please pass though those doors, the other guests await the latest arrivals." Du's image vanished, with a final smug smirk.

A set of oaken doors opened slowly and silently, to reveal an adjoining sitting room. It was as well furnished as the foyer, laid out like an old English club hall. Leather wingback chairs and realistic (but decidedly fake) open fireplaces filled the corners. Bookshelves ran the length of all the walls. Drakken and Shego stepped through the doors cautiously.

A man seated in one of the chairs looked up from an enormous volume. His single eye fixed on the pair of newcomers. "Ah, the insidious Doctor Drakken, and his comely compatriot. Please, come take a seat by me."

Shego did so, casually. Drakken tugged his collar nervously, and settled into a deep, overstuffed easy chair. "Ooh, this place is just full of good places to sit."

"Yes, I believe that is the idea." The stranger closed his book. "The leadership of Global Justice wishes that we will be content to stay here."

"Create a prison that no one wants to leave," Shego volunteered.

"In a place where no one can survive unassisted, yes." The man took a sip of tea from a waiting cup. "Shall I ring for refreshments for the both of you?"

"Cocoa moo?" Doctor Drakken perked up at once.

Shego ignored the interruption, and concentrated on the mystery man. "So, we almost conquered the world tonight. What'd you do, mister..."

"Global Justice fears me above all others. I am the evil twin of their leader, Doctor Director. I am," he paused for emphasis, "Gemini!"

Shego was puzzled. "Doctor Director is a woman, isn't she?"

"Fraternal twins."

Drakken had to stick his head in this time. "Ah. So, what, she just locked you up like that DiCaprio guy in that one movie? Shego, what was that movie?"

"Shut up, doof-bag! I don't have to do anything you say, you're in no position to cover my salary! God, you're just so annoying, you know that, Drew?" Shego had once again hurt him with her words. She turned back to Gemini. "Back to the sob story."

"Quite. Anyway, I kidnapped a teenage boy as part of a scheme to take over the world." Gemini took another long sip from his teacup.

Drakken seemed puzzled by this incomplete explanation. "What, like a prince, or some kid with psychic powers, or…"

"No, just some foolish boy. GJ had him under observation, so I naturally thought he was somehow special. Ron something-or-other."

"Stoppable?" Drakken and Shego interjected in perfect synch.

"Yes, that was it. You've heard of him?"

Middleton's streets were all but empty as the red sport bike made its way through the maze of suburban sprawl. Kim rode at a speed just shy of reckless, and Ron's arms clung to her midsection like Pain King's trademark suplex.

Kim hit the throttle even harder, and popped the front wheel off the ground. The extra weight of a passenger made this a fast process. Ron tightened his grip, and cried out over the roar of the engine. In his panic, he grabbed hold of something soft and yielding. It took him a moment to realize just what it was, and when he did he felt himself blush.

Kim smiled under her helmet visor. I get to drive fast and get a continuous hug? I love bikes. The most romantic way to break the speed limit. And so fuel-efficient!

They reached the Stoppable home in record time. It was about half past nine, and the lights were on.

Ron was still dizzy and disoriented. Rufus, however, was on cloud nine. "Again!"

"Oh no, little pal. Time for sit-down-and-not-go-fast-for-a-while time." Ron stumbled around the lawn, as if he'd been testing industrial stand mixers from the inside out.

"I can't believe you were so scared, after all that's happened tonight," Kim teased, with a playful laugh in her voice.

"Hey, I almost fell off, like, a dozen times back there."

"Yeah, I think you left some marks," Kim gestured towards her hips. "And up here, too."

Ron couldn't help but stammer. "Well, heh, I was just, um, groping on for dear life?" He sheepishly turned his head and blushed.

Kim hoped silently, the next time he touches my chest, it better be on purpose. Oh my God, did I just think that? About Ron? Her blush put his to shame, a shade somewhere between sunburn and pickled beets.

"I guess that excuse will fly, this time," she finally managed to squeak out.

Ron had already focused on the door to his house. He went over the scenario in his mind; how he'd deliver the news to his parents about the new world order he and Kim had created for themselves. "I guess it's time to do this."

"Here," Kim slid up next to him, in the middle of the front lawn, and held him close. "For courage."

Inside, the Stoppables had just recently finished a hurried set of room rearrangements. They had unexpectedly brought in a set of overnight houseguests.

"So, it's the kids in here, the parents in the guest room?" Mister Stoppable laid out some blankets on the sofa and loveseat in the downstairs den.

His wife turned down the double bed in the extra bedroom. "Yes, that's it. You find enough extra sheets?" She called back, echoing through the house.

Doctor James T. Possible entered the room, fresh from brushing his teeth. "I can't thank you enough for putting us up here, Paula."

"Don't be silly, James. It's the least I could do after, well, everything. Besides, I can't have you spending the night in a half-broken house."

"Yes, those robots really messed up the old homestead. I'm sure it's reparable, but I don't pay to heat the whole outdoors!"

"Well, we've got extra space. Just keep your boys from re-purposing any appliances – was that a motorcycle?" The noise had caught her off-guard.

James pulled back the drapery, and peered down at the street. "Sure is. Looks like, yes, it's Kimmy and Eric. She must have gone back to the dance after settling up with old Drew." He took a closer look. "Hmm. No, that's not Eric."

"What's going on down there?"

"That's Eric's bike, but who's that in the silly blue tux – Ronald?"

"Oh, good. I was getting worried. Let's go down and – "

Mrs. Stoppable's mind suffered a minor skip. It was unable to process exactly what it was seeing. An established pattern of reality had been shattered, and the dominant paradigm had just shifted from third to first without a clutch. Down below, on her own lawn, her son was locked in a deep kiss with his best friend.

Oh thank God, she couldn't help but think. It's a girl!