Here it is; this has been previously published, but I decided to make some subtle changes that pleased me greatly. So if you've been reading my story, here's something you may have already read. And if you haven't, then please: sit back with a cup of hot cocoa and enjoy. ...And then review.
P.S. I do not, nor have I ever owned Kim Possible and all characters entailed with the product.
CHAPTER THREE – FAMILY REUNION
I.
A plain of ecstasy. Pure delight and elation flowed through her veins and into her heart, which was surely going to burst from the pure passion and rush of emotion. A smile on her face and a moan escaping her mouth as tears ran down either side of her face. But they weren't painful tears. There was no pain or sadness or anger or negative sensation at all inside Kim Possible. The heroine was perfectly dipped in enchantment and she never wanted to come down from her high.
This state of supreme gratification was all due to Eric's naked form above her; thrusting and grinding softly into her flesh while she gripped tightly onto his shoulder blades. He sweated droplets of success onto her neck and they proceeded to roll off onto their white bed of roses. They breathed, moaned, gasped and moved as one fully-functional machine of satisfaction.
And all the while, Ron hung high above in a straight-jacket of thorny vines that wrapped him entirely in helplessness. He screamed at the top of his lungs and tried to close his eyes, but his yells of protest went unheard and his eyelids remained held open by sharp thorns piercing the thin ocular-protective flesh.
"NO KIM! YOU CAN'T DO THIS! NOOOOO!"
Soon a large vine shot out of nowhere and rammed itself down Ron's throat. His eyes shot open with surprise as he coughed and gagged; trying to force the weed out without the use of his enslaved limbs. Like a living creature, the vine slithered and plodded its way down the blonde's throat while he coughed up blood and thin traces of stomach acids.
Wriggling and writhing in his entombment of stabbing wild flowers, Ron's tears flowed until the teen was waterlogged. His body became frail as his fat turned to water and left his body through his eyes. Muscles, vascular tissues, organs: all turned to liquid and exited his form in a march of exiting existence (if not existence altogether, certainly livelihood).
Then Ron's eyes opened wider than they ever had before at the site of his one true love opening her mouth and finding nothing to express but peak of bliss in a piercing pleasure scream. The sound was beautiful and Ron had dreamt before of her making it while they gave each other their virginities. She would scream and he would grit his teeth as they climaxed in unison. Eyes of green would meet eyes of amber and the lovebirds would collapse into each other for the rest of eternity.
This was not how it was supposed to happen. The blood drying in Kim's thighs and Eric's crotch was supposed to be for Ron and Kim. Not that Ron wanted nothing more than to "pop Kim's cherry". He wanted the rupturing of her hymen to be a door being kicked open for their relationship and the path they would share for the rest of their lives.
This moment was supposed to be between the redhead and Ron.
"Ron."
Ron looked down at the beautiful, exasperated woman currently rubbing Eric's back. She had a look plastered on her face like something you'd expect to see on Bonnie after a victory against an enemy. A look of success being rubbed in another person's face. This was not the Kim that Ron had tried to protect that day in pre-K. This was not the Kim that Ron had worked with for nearly all of their lives. This was not the Kim that Ron had loved.
"Yes?" His voice was barely louder than a pin dropping on carpet in a hall of partying ruffians. It sounded just about as strong too.
"Ron, why would I EVER share this kind of experience with you?" Her voice was spite given sound. "I'm a pretty girl! I shouldn't be strapping myself down to a relative nothing like you!" Ron's mother's words coming from Kim's mouth. She was right. Instead of just being nasty and cruel to her son, Mrs. Possible had been correct. "Girls like me don't just give themselves—"
Ron mouthed the rest unknowingly, as if in acceptance. "—to the first nerd who says he likes them."
The helpless loveless felt like arguing back. He felt like screaming something along the lines of "what about the moodulator incident?" and following it at the top of his lungs with "you said there were FIREWORKS!" But he couldn't bring himself to be anything more than the heavyweight's last losing bout before retirement.
The heartbroken, no—heart-shattered teen closed his eyes and emitted one last tear. One drop of salty discharge ran down the bridge of his nose and fell into eternity after separating from his form. Ron was no more. All that was left now was a frail line of dead flesh and dried out hopes and dreams. The ashes of what was once a fine human being blew into the wind as Kim's cackling laughter filled the void of his existence.
II.
Ron lunged forward in his seat and swung his head from side to side. Sweat beads running down his forehead; the teen tried to figure out where he was. Just seconds before he had been absolute nothingness blowing into the wind. Now he seemed to be sprawled out in a rather comfortable seat with the feeling of compression inside his head.
"Yo, dumbass." Ron looked over and found Runk sitting in the seat next to him in the process of kicking off his blanket. The dark half turned to face his creator and calmly stated, "You were dreaming. It wasn't real. She's not like that. You have to pee."
Ron's breathing and heartbeat slowed down as he dropped his head and fell into the conclusion all over again that he would never spend his life with the woman he so desperately loved. His head perked up again when he felt a tingling "down yonder" and realized that Runk knew a lot more then he let on.
The blonde stood from his seat and began walking to the bathroom conveniently located one row ahead of him. Still nodding off sleep, Ron pushed the door open, squeezed inside through the two-foot-wide entrance and inhaled the antiseptic scent of airplane bathroom. After a quick cough, Ron got to unzipping and relieving. His eyes closed and a smile slowly crawled over his face as the pain in his bladder from holding in the yellow liquid slowly subsided and made way for contempt in finding some good vibrations in life.
Shake once, shake twice, (the song says three times and you're playing with it). Ron looked to the left and the right before shaking a third time. The grinning buffoon didn't bother with washing his hands; he rarely did when he didn't need to impress somebody with his posed cleanliness, or didn't need to worry about any unsavory smells being carried back out of the bathroom on his hands (i.e. Ron unsuccessful wiping and instead smearing his fingers with… you get the point).
A soft "ding" rang in his ears before the sound of the captain came over the intercom speaker.
"We, uhhh, will be slowly making our descent soon into, uhhhh, Spokane soon enough here and, uhhh, would greatly appreciate your seated and buckled selves descending along with us." A soft chuckle from the captain and nobody else. "But all, uhhh, jokes aside, the captain is turning on the, uhhh, seatbelt sign and would like to ask that the passengers put their tray tables up and, uhhhh, put their seats back in their full up-right position. Thank you. We will be landing, uhhh, shortly."
Ron grinned as he thought about how stereotypical it was for captains flying planes to always have the grinding, low voice accompanied with the every-other-word pauses and "uh"s. Was that racism of a sort on Ron's part? Did pilots constitute their own "race"? It's just another profession; just another nine-to-five, right? The thought reminded him of that joke he had once heard in Shop class.
Q: What do you call a black person flying a plane?
Joke-receiver: …
A: A pilot, you racist!
A bang sounded on the door and Ron almost went to pull it open in fear of being thrown off the plane for not abiding the rules before Runk's voice spoke up. "Yes, the joke is a canned laugh riot and we are all pleased to hear it, but seriously Ron? Either you need to finish beating your meat in there, or make your way back to the goddamn seat already. The rat's probably worried."
Ron splashed water from the faucet onto his face and wiped it off with airplane paper towels apparently made from the roughest of raw wooden material. After checking his face for cuts in the mirror, the blonde pushed the door open and began making his rocky way back to the seat. As he stumbled back, Ron could swear he felt someone watching him; a side effect of the Mystical Monkey Powers he so secretly hid.
His head turned for a split second; so fast even a hummingbird might have missed the movement.
"Holy shit! I think that stewardess was looking at me! Like, desiringly!"
Runk snorted from the seat mere feet ahead of Ron and replied, "Well first off, they're flight attendants you disrespectful bastard. Second, I honestly doubt that 'desiringly' is a word. And third off, maybe you're trailing T.P." The imagination-figment smiled when he caught Ron quickly brushing at his butt while looking for stray squares of paper; knowing the whole time that Ron didn't even use toilet paper during his trip to the lavatory.
Ron sat in his seat and as he pulled it forward, a sigh could be heard escaping from his mouth.
"I'm really glad this flight is over. That last four hours were ridiculously boring."
Runk didn't bother pulling his seat back up as he replied, "You can say them shits again."
Ron momentarily wondered whether or not the seat next to his supposedly containing Runk was even reclined. Was that in his mind as well? How far was he taking this imaginary anti-companion thing? Was he going to become like the main character in so many movies who realizes they're crazy when their fellow protagonist turns out to be a fiction of their imaginations in the final reel? Was he going to drive himself completely insane watching the other him interact with the world? Ron rubbed his temples. His head hurt.
It seemed like looking back hundreds of years, but Ron recalled Kim's face and remembered the various times when he wondered whether or not he should have told her about his schizophrenic hallucination. He often wanted distraughtly for her to tell him that he was still perfectly sane and not to worry. The man was just Ron's form of vocalizing his negative feelings. Ron could hear Kim saying the nice and comforting words while she either a) rubbed his back while they sat up in heir old treehouse, or b) said the words sarcastically with Eric's lips tracing kisses down her neck.
Ron's already-closed eyelids clamped down even harder at the painful images his mind concocted to hurt him. It was too painful to think of Kim. He really needed to stop.
"For your information," began Runk. "The seat's up-right."
Ron chuckled as he felt his head compressing due to the airplane finally making its Washington descent.
III.
The six-foot-something man with short, dirty blonde (almost brown) hair that spiked up like an ocean wave near the front of his head stood silently with his arms crossed and his hundred-yard stare focused intently on the large opening in the airport lobby wall. His cousin Ronald was supposed to be walking through that monstrous access any second now. He wasn't known for being an easily excitable man, but when he heard from Ron nearly a dozen hours before, it was the most ecstatic and energized his friends had ever seen him. He didn't bother asking then why the teen suddenly wanted to stay with him because he knew that he probably wouldn't want to talk about such things. So instead Jefrey had readily accepted him with wide, open arms and an eye on what the future held in store.
The six-foot-something man with short, dirty blonde (almost brown) hair stood on his tippy-toes and looked forward; too excited for Ron's arrival for words to describe.
IV.
Ron jerked back in his seat as the plane's brakes finally locked and the flying behemoth came to its first stop in four and a half hours. Without a carry-on to slow him down, Ron excitedly grabbed Rufus out of his comforting nook and slid him into his cargo pockets—much to the animal's detest, as heard by his angry and surprised snickering noises and silent screaming. But Ron didn't notice Rufus and his abomination.
The teen stood up out of his seat and began hurriedly making his way through the aisle and to the exit door of the flight. His steps seemed like slow-motion strides through enveloping quicksand, but—even though he knew he was angry at his seemingly slow movements—the large smile squeezing his face couldn't disappear. Somewhere in the back of his head, he heard Runk yelling that the flight attendants all thought he looked like an excited retard running down the aisle to marry another delightfully festive mentally insufficient. But Ron didn't notice his negative's antagonizing comments.
The pilot opened the large door and Ron found himself looking at the uninviting carpet-walls of the connecting "contained hallway". Up the twisting walkway he ran; excited beyond comprehension at the thought of reconnecting with his (as it felt to him) long-lost cousin. His mind was lost amidst a cloud of dreams and ideas of what the future held in store. The blonde didn't even think about Kim; the first straight minute that this could be said of his thought-path in the last week.
If there had been massive crowds of people stepping as a crowded whole foot by foot to the exit, Ron could have sprouted wings and soared directly over them. He could have begun swinging his arms before systematically beating every single one of the bystanders to a bloody pulp if it meant his getting to his cousin quicker. Not that he would ever really resort to such tactics to arrive in the company of a loved one sooner. Even if that loved one was as awesome as Jefrey.
The makings of an airport terminal were forming in the exit of the walkway up ahead and Ron nearly peed himself. Why was he this excited? It made no sense. Never before had he shown such anticipation and excitement for the meeting of a single person. If he was meeting his father for the first time, he could just barely see himself being this anticipant.
Jefrey may have been really great back when Ron spent the day with him at a family reunion, but did that account for this level of exhilaration? Did that account for Ron's current animated level of joy? It didn't add up in the back of his head.
"Maybe it's more than him just being a great cousin."
Ron looked back at Runk—who seemed to be walking just as fast as Ron jogged—and pondered over the suggestion. What did he mean?
"I mean, come on. I may not be a licensed psychological interpreter, or ever be such with your resistance to intelligence, but it's pretty obvious even to a child that you're making Jef out to be something more than just an intriguing human being to you."
Ron cocked his head and eyebrow. He was confused. He was thinking. His head hurt.
"Jefrey is to you as the great white was to Captain Ahab."
Captain Ahab. Why did that sound familiar? Ron seemed to remember Kim telling him that he was the main character in some book they were supposed to be reading in English class years ago. How was it that Runk was able to dig so deep in Ron's memories when Ron HIMSELF couldn't do as such when actually prompted.
Runk rolled his eyes and sighed. "Symbolism fuck-tard, symbolism. Jefrey is the realized form of all your wishes for a new and better life. He represents a chance at something new. He is not just a relative you haven't seen in a long time. He is not just a cousin you had a great time with oh so many years ago. He is your great escape."
Ron slowed down and realized that Runk was right. Jefrey was still great, but now he didn't feel so inclined to running like a maniac to reach him. He calmed down, his heart rate slowed, and his feet made slower strides. As the existing blonde turned back to his destination, he wondered how Runk could be so smart when Ron was just a simpleton in comparison. Maybe Runk would come in handy during any sort of symbolism exam in future English classes. Maybe the bastard wasn't so bad after all.
Ronald crossed the threshold of the claustrophobic connecting hall and looked out at the crowded airport terminal. After frowning and standing on his tip-toes to look for Jefrey, Ron began worrying. Had Jefrey not come to pick him up? What if he didn't want Ron to stay with him after all? Was this his way of telling him that he wasn't welcome? Was he going to have to climb right back on the next flight home and kiss his every dream of a better life goodbye with it?
Runk nearly fell over with laughter from somewhere behind Ron.
"Dear God! Rejection makes you quite the negative camper, huh?"
Without even bothering to look back, Ron made the face of disgust that doubled as a face of confusion and a prompt for an explanation. Someone may have been looking at the seemingly lost teenage blonde emerging from the airplane, but said teen didn't notice or care had he noticed.
"Jesus Christ boy-o! This is post 9-11 America we're living in! Jefrey probably couldn't make it past security being just a pick-up and ride! He's waiting for you at the gates, I PROMISE!"
Ron looked down at his shoes and bit his lip. He could really be stupid sometimes. And conclusion-jumpy-to. Or something like that.
He silently muttered a "thanks" and heard a reluctant "no problem".
People bunched close to make way for the emerging passengers making their individual ways to and fro for various destinations. A pretty Asian girl's rolling luggage lost a wheel and she hurriedly tried to collect everything that fell from the broken suitcase. A businessman strolled over to the closest magazine stand and bought a coffee and an Esquire before making his way back for the seats for a connector flight. A little boy ran from his mother for a bathroom while his exasperated mother carried his bag and hers in two whilst following. By some hiccup of fate, one of the emerging passengers recognized the face of an ongoing passenger from High School and joyous screams of surprise followed.
And an attractive eighteen-year-old blonde with a skip in his step and a naked rodent of some type hitching a ride on his shoulder made their way to the airport lobby.
V.
Kim eventually made her crying way back to school with Eric; determined to finish the day as she had nearly every one that preceded it in her High School career. Even through missions and interruptions, she was always back to collect the day's learning and go on with her further education. She was never the kind of student who looked forward to snow days and water main breakings. Kim lived for school because it was one more step in moving forward to a better plain of existence. Finishing day after day in school meant moving on to better things with a well-earned education on her side.
But today (a Thursday) just so happened to be the first day she ever had to seriously consider taking the rest of the day off to go over her life's current crises. The redhead almost didn't want to go back to those somewhat lonelier halls and the smell of disinfectant and perfume. The chitter-chatter of catty teenagers and the educational droning of the poorly-paid educators. The very things she lived for now seemed unnecessary when compared to her traumatic endeavors.
Her "partner in crime" of near thirteen years was gone. Out of sight for no reason. Disappeared without explanation or any previous mention of exit. Ronald Stoppable was gone. And worst of all, Kim didn't know why she felt partly responsible.
Kim sat in her admittedly uncomfortable wooden desk designed as one-size-fits-all; pretending to listen to Mr. Barkin as he talked about the fundamentals of something-something-bla-bla-bla… Her eyes were fixed on the teacher, who was notorious for barely moving during his teachings aside from the occasional passing out of papers and turns from writing on the big board. But she was gone. She was as attentive at the moment as was Peter Rabbit or the Tooth Fairy. In other words (to compensate for a horrible analogy) she was sitting in a dark room of her subconscious squandering; pondering over what could have happened.
Had Ron been kidnapped? No. There would have been some sort of ransom tape from Drakken uncovered already. Had Ron up and moved over night? Kim laughed at the suggestion before a chill ran down her back and—for some reasons unknown to her—she began thinking it may be possible for the Possibles to up and decide to move without previously informing Ron. But this was also not plausible. Ron would have told Kim before he moved. She would know. For every suggestion made, there was a logical and entirely plausible counterexample as to how it could be denied.
And that's when it hit her. As much as she hated to admit it, it seemed like the only suggestion left to make before being stranded with reason in a land of eternal darkness and confusion.
Had Ron run away?
It didn't make sense. Ron would never just run away without telling Kim. Kim was his everything as was he to her. Had he told her? No, she couldn't remember such a plan being told her or any hints having been dropped. But then again, she had been rather wrapped up with her new boyfriend to notice anything weird going on with Ron. Come to think of it, she couldn't really remember anything involving Ron or his presence ever since Eric first moved to Middleton weeks before.
Eric had moved, Kim had fallen in love, the two had begun hanging out, and—as much as she hated to admit it—Eric had kind of taken Ron's place in her life. A tear formed on Kim's face, but she didn't care enough to wipe it away. She was too depressed at the all-too-real realization that Ron might have run away and she had missed any and all opportunities to find out why.
On the other side of the classroom, Eric looked over at Kim. He wanted to see her chipper as she had always been. He wanted to see her staring intently on the teacher with a smile on her face and a can-do attitude emitting from her person. But Eric had to settle for the depressing sight of the emotionally-dead girl he had grown to love over the last few weeks.
This Ron-guy must have meant a lot to her. Eric smiled in her general direction, hoping for a reaction on her part. But she just continued staring off into space. Eric felt a pang of jealousy instead of the worry he knew he should be feeling.
VI.
Ron turned the last corner and looked out at the enormous Spokane Airport lobby. He could spot a McDonalds, a Subway, a Quiznos, some French-named café or bar, a bookstore, and a magazine/candy stand; all without turning his head a complete fifteen degrees. The franchises seemed to drown him, but he knew it was a sure-fire sign that he had touched down in the land of the free and greedy. He smiled as he realized that he had just made a somewhat sophisticated observational joke. And without Runk's help too.
"That was… kinda funny…" Runk tried hard not to make a compliment, but it was just too hard when his host finally began showing some signs of intelligent observation. It wasn't a very funny joke, but it was great considering the immature source. "Maybe this trip will do you some good after all."
Ron smiled at his other half's flattering remark and was about to thank him for the praise when he happened to catch sight of Jefrey. The man was leaning against the wall near the ATM nonchalantly with a pair of sunglasses complimenting his well-chiseled face as he noticed his cousin at the same time. The two stood in a frozen moment of time while they tried to remember each other's appearances and double-check that they were indeed each other.
But such precautions were unnecessary. As things slowly resumed normal speed, Ron and Jefrey both began running for each other like a pair of lovers in the climax of a romantic comedy. But instead of meeting with a kiss, the two settled for a wordless, bone-crushing hug.
It was minutes before either spoke.
"It's been a while."
A smile. "Yeah it has."
Two kindred souls (non-romantically) reunited after so long apart. How will things work out? Will Ron ever wind up seeing Kim again? How is she taking this anyway?
Well, I would have to be asinine to reveal any of that, now wouldn't I? Please review.