The Twelve: Prologue

Kim Possible fanfiction

immo - R

author's note: Firstly, gung hei fat choi! Happy Lunar New Year's, kids! And since this is my year, the year of the Rat, I decided I wanted to give all of you faithfuls a surprise.

This.

Is.

The.

Continuation.

To...

a few new tricks.

Now lets hope I don't get distracted by my surroundings and stop writing halfway. I'm SOOOO sorry it took so long. honestly.


"Kimmie, wake up." Kim grinned in her sleep and burrowed further into the blankets. It was a bright sunny day, and the light hit them squarely, making her feel toasty warm. Shego's lips tickled the back of her neck with kisses, and despite trying her hardest to feign sleep, she giggled. Finally, she turned around to face the person who disturbed her sleep, delighting in those sly eyes.

"I was having such a good dream," Kim complained. Shego had captured Kim's hands and brought them up to brush her chapped lips against scarred knuckles.

"Oh?" drawled Shego, changing her tactics and continued her amorous assault, this time on Kim's neck. "Was I in it?"

"Nope."

"Can't be that good then."

Kim chuckled and didn't answer, closing her eyes as Shego leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. Bliss. This was bliss.

"I don't know what'll happen if you had actually died..." Kim whispered, meeting Shego's emerald gaze with her own. "I'm so glad you came back."

"Good thing Stoppable found the fountain of life, huh?" Shego said thoughtfully. "Remind me to thank him for that."

"The day you thank Ron for something is--hun?" Kim blinked, touching a corner of Shego's mouth. Blood was trickling out of her lips. "Shego, you're bleeding."

"Oh, that. Don't worry about it." Shego wiped at the blood with the back of her hand and bent her head down to cough discretely into the blankets. "Comes and goes."

"Shego!" Kim was alarmed. The pale woman's cough had brought up a glob of blood, which Shego was trying to hide. "Coughing up blood is never a thing to NOT worry about! Oh my god, we've got to get you to a hospital!"

"Too late, Kimmie." Kim looked up into the metamorphed reptilian face of Shego. Kim knew without checking that there would be a gaping hole in Shego's chest where Xaio Qing had punched her hand through. Kim cupped that gentle face in her hands and kissed Shego, sobbing. They were on the battlefield again. All the people involved stood around, frozen in shades of brown. In the corner of Kim's vision, red was slowly seeping in.

"No, Shego, no..." Kim cried. Xaio Qing might as well have ripped HER heart out too. The pain was too much to bear.

"I'm sorry, pumpkin..." Shego smiled through the blood that continued frothing past her lips.

Kim opened her eyes blearily, feeling hot and sweaty all over. The late afternoon sun hit her body squarely.

She was alone, in a sterile white room.

She had been living alone these past few months. And to the world's knowledge, had dropped off the face of the earth.

Her family came by some times to check on her, but everytime they came calling and she was home, she would ignore the ringing doorbell until they went away.

Kim curled up in her blankets, turned her back to the sun and closed her eyes. Her home away from home. The room was headache-inducing white. There was a balcony, a small kitchenette, a small closet and a small washroom. Her rented apartment was barely furnished, only a futon sitting in the middle of the room. She rarely cooked, but she used the microwave a lot. There were no clocks to remind her of the passing of time, and she liked it that way. She had an alarm clock before, but she threw that out when she found herself perpetually glancing at it.

She had nowhere to be, nowhere to go. Why would she need a clock?

Kim Possible found that, when she did have a timepiece, she used it not to gauge what time of day it was, but to watch hungrily, waiting, for something. Anything.

Every moment was torturous and every breath felt like work. Every minute alive was excrutiating and she found that it was even more so when she watched every... slow... second... tick... by. Impatience gnawed at her sanity.

So she threw her clock away.

It had been five months since Shego died.

Shego. Dead.

That name and that word just didn't belong together. It didn't make any sense at all.

Kim Possible leaned over the washroom sink wearily, not knowing how she got there. There were these... lapses in her memory now. She didn't care. Every night was cold and bleak. Every day was a battle to get through. But Kim preferred the daylight and wakefulness. She had control when she was conscious, unforgiving sunlight bathed everything, illuminated everything. Made them real to her.

Night-time, darkness and the shadows they brought... were things that she started dreading. Dreading so much that her sleeping patterns were something of a mess.

Something, just in the corner of her vision. No matter how fast she spun to try to catch that elusive shadow, it always stayed out of her sight. Just in the corner of her vision.

Sometimes she stayed awake for days on end, or did the opposite and slept like she was dead. Sometimes she found she'd wake up from her slumber during day or night and was so sure she heard a wry, familiar chuckle.

Sometimes, Kim Possible called out that name.

"Shego?"

But nobody would ever answer. Sometimes tears would fall and sometimes she was just too drained for tears. She'd crawl into bed and hope to god that she dreamed of oblivion. Sometimes she was lucky, most times, Kim was not.

Her pale-skinned enemy was always waiting in her dreams for her. Even if she wasn't there, her presence was felt, as only dreamers could feel.

There would be passion, warmth, hungry devouring kisses; the kind that you wake up from still feeling and still yearning for more.

There would be confrontations that lead to blows that Kim swore she still felt in the morning, phantom pains that she clung on to and hoped were real.

Those dreams she could deal with. She could deal with those. They were painful, clawing at the corners of the never-healing wound that Shego left there when she died.

Kim couldn't deal with the dreams of that one memory that replayed in her mind when she was awake.

In wakefulness, the memory was painful, yes. But past. In the past.

In dreams, the memories were vivid and life-like. In dreams, it was real everytime. And the hero would have that dream of blood, of that look in Shego's eyes as she died. Her ragged body. And in between these painful horrors, dream-world Kim would remember how much she loved everything about Shego. It would all happen again, that murder.

Gut-wrenching guilt.

Kill her. Kill Xaio Qing. Why didn't you kill her?

Dream-world Shego never asked her that question. Dream-world Shego loved her too much to put her through that. Dream-world Kim asked her that question.

Why didn't you kill your lover's murderer?

Why didn't you kill that monster?

Wearily, Kim dipped her hands underneath the ice-cold water of her bathroom faucet, splashing the water on her face.

"Wake up, wake up." Kim slapped herself lightly on the cheek, looked into the mirror and noted the physical marks Shego's death had left on her body. Relished it like she relished that burn mark Shego had left on her hip long ago.

Dark circles rimmed her eyes. Her cheeks, sallow and drawn; like a skeleton's. Her hair hung in limp, oily strands. Kim was grimly satisfied with her physical deterioration. It wasn't fair... it just wasn't fair that Shego died and she was still here.

Not for the first time, Kim crumpled to the floor, felt the grief jerk out tears from her. She savagely bit into her hand, muting the screams she wanted to let out.

endnote: as always, tell me what you think! :D