x x x x x x

"Why do you stay?"

Her brothers ask her this sometimes during her rare communications with home. Her reply is always the same, delivered with the hard glint in her eye that has become her habit in talking to her family. It's because they have the same goals, she tells them: evil, power. If she wants world domination, she has no easier way of getting it than by staying with him—he's nearly been successful on more than one occasion.

This is not quite the truth, however.

What she doesn't tell them is that evil has never been his chief motivation, that power has always simply been his means to an end. What he really wants is recognition, validation, to prove that there is more to him than awkward, incompetent Drew Lipsky. He wants world domination simply so his colleagues and peers will finally acknowledge him.

What she especially doesn't tell her brothers is that somewhere along the way, his motivation became her motivation, at least in part. The evil and the excitement and the glamour are still the most important thing, of course, but she finds that she is also pleased by the prospect of watching as someday Dr. Possible and all the rest are forced to admit they were wrong about her employer all along. She finds, with some surprise, that she will be glad if their work not only accomplishes world domination, but also convinces the doctor that his is not, as he said to her once, a second-rate existence.

She still remembers distinctly the night he said that to her. She had been working for him on and off for two years or so when one night they had a particularly humiliating defeat—so much so that instead of his usual ranting, he was quite silent. "I am tired," he said, finally, softly, "of this second-rate existence." And then he turned and realized she was still standing there. He was embarrassed to have been heard, she was embarrassed to have heard him, and they never talked about it again. But a few days later, when she realized that she had double-booked herself—a job for him and a vacation in New York—she hesitated only a moment before calling to reschedule her flight. It seemed like such a small thing at the time.

x x x x x x

"Why do you stay?"

Kim Possible asks her this once, in the middle of fight that the villains are clearly going to lose. Her response is swift, almost forced from her by the adrenaline pumping through her body: she stays because she's getting paid to fight annoying do-gooders. And she means it—she is endlessly irritated by the stupid cheerleader and her stupid sidekick and his stupid rat, and she loves the thought that the next time they fight could be the time she beats them.

But her statement was not entirely true.

The truth is that fighting the good guys and stealing expensive equipment is only part of the job. She's been working for him more or less full-time for nearly a year now, and she's realized that he expects more from her than that. He expects a proper sidekick, almost a partner, someone who will listen to him rant and help him in the lab and pretend to pay attention to long technical discussions on exactly why the outer casing of this death ray must be made of tungsten.

It makes her crazy. Most of the time she brings along a magazine or a nail file and listens with half an ear, occasionally paying enough attention to mock his naivete or point out gaping flaws in the plan. But sometimes, when she's in a particularly good mood or she's very tired, she actually listens, and what she hears surprises her.

What she hears is this: he really is a brilliant man. He could be a very effective villain if not for his fatal flaw: his lack of ability to plan for Kim Possible. Governments and militaries he can handle. If not for the cheerleader, he would likely already be ruling the world.

She can pinpoint the moment she realized this: after the disasterous climax of the Little Diablo incident. She had a lot of time on her hands to think; actually, she had nothing to but think. And she found herself thinking of the plan, of the lovable toys, the famous toy designer, the worldwide distribution, the handsome Synthodrone. And she realized that it was quite a brilliant plan. He could have ruled the world that time. He should have ruled the world that time.

And she supposes that's another reason she stays: as she begrudgingly admits to herself, she's come to respect the man.

That, and the fact that one of these days, a plan actually might work.

x x x x x x

"Why do you stay?"

Other villains ask her this frequently, when they're fighting each other or trying to steal the same plutonium or when they just happen to end up at the same spa. A few have even offered her jobs before, impressed by her skills and convinced she couldn't really want to stay with that blue-skinned buffoon. She answers offhandedly, smiling her best self-absorbed, careless smirk: the pay is good, the hours are easy, and she has a boss she can bend to her every whim. It's the perfect gig.

This is only partly true.

Some months things are good around the lair. There are orders from shadow governments and spy agencies and rebel groups, and then there's money to spare and she gets paid on time and everyone's happy. Other months there's no money coming in at all and it's only her prowess at thievery that keeps them going. Then her paychecks are usually late and usually lower than normal. What she especially doesn't tell her fellow villains is that she knows that in the lean months, Drakken scrimps and saves and takes no pay himself to make sure she gets her salary, no matter how meager it is. She doesn't tell them that she knows he'd go to nearly any length to keep her around.

But she wasn't sure why—half the time he doesn't need a sidekick—until one evening some time after the Pangaea incident. Frugal Lucre was there, to everyone's disgust, and he'd taken up his favorite subject, money. She overheard him and Drakken talking as she was walking past the lab on her way to the kitchen. Hearing her name spoken, and having no qualms about eavesdropping, she stopped to listen.

"I mean," the man was saying, "think about how much money you could save if you hired a cheaper sidekick. I know they're out there. Just drop the green girl."

Her stomach twisted strangely at that, but she barely had time to register the unaccustomed feeling of dread before she heard Drakken's reply, prompt and firm and definite. "No."

She was surprised by the strength of her reaction to that, by the relief that coursed through her, by the elevated heartrate that indicated she'd been more anxious about Frugal's question than she'd like to admit. But why would he say no? The irritating little man was right; finances were tight, and she was demanding when it came to money. She knew the doctor could barely afford her. Why keep her around?

Through her surprise, she heard Frugal asking that same question. "My current sidekick has more than her fighting skills to recommend her," the doctor replied firmly.

"Oh," came the reply in a knowing voice that made her skin crawl. "It's like that, is it?"

"No, it is not like that," Drakken snapped back. "I simply mean . . ." He hesitated, and she was sure she was the only one who knew him well enough to hear the nervousness and reluctance in his voice when he continued. "I would rather have her around."

A henchman wandered by just then, so she left and missed the rest of the conversation, but the memory of it plagued her for some time. What did he mean? Why would he say that? It took her a while to figure it out, but she knows know.

He thinks of her as more than a mere employee. He cares about her opinions, her ideas, her feelings.

He likes her.

That revelation, when it came, hit her like an avalanche. When was the last time someone had liked her for her, had befriended her not because of her useful skills but because of her personality? Friends like that in her line of work, she has learned, are rarer than hen's teeth. But Drakken doesn't need her for her fighting or her looks. He needs her there because he wants her there. Somehow, that revelation makes all the difference in the world.

She hasn't taken a job with anyone else since.

x x x x x x

"Why do you stay?"

She asks herself this time after time, and not just when he's done something ridiculous. She wonders it every time he makes her work on a Friday night, every time some good-looking guy wants to buy her a drink but she has to leave because the doctor has called to say he absolutely needs her right now.

She especially wonders it after the Smarty Mart robot incident, when she realizes that her escapade with that Smarty man is the closest thing she's had to a date in far longer than she likes to admit. She can't help but remember what she said to Kim in an uncharacteristic fit of honesty during her time at Middleton High: "That whole Drakken business didn't leave a lot of time for socializing."

She tells herself that she doesn't need a social life right now, that she's working on building up a rep and that someday in the future, when she's more secure in her career and her finances, she'll focus more on friends and dating. She tells herself that at some point, she'll leave Drakken and his neediness behind and focus on herself. He's keeping her from having a social life just now, but when she leaves him, everything will be better.

She's not sure if this is true.

The fact is that Drakken has become her social life, what with karaoke outings and late-night plotting and those occasional quiet evenings when they watch movies together in the lair and, through some unspoken agreement, never mention work at all; she's surprised at how much she's come to value the silent comeraderie they share then. The fact is that in the last year she's gotten many job offers, many of which are more prestigious and better paying than what she has now, but she's turned them all down because she's afraid (a strange new experience for her) of leaving him, and she's afraid of leaving him because she's found that she is happier with him than without him. She needs him in her life right now, just as he needs her. She's not saying she wants to stay this way forever, but the fact is that her wants and wishes, her plans for the future, have changed in the last year. She's found companionship and she doesn't want to give that up.

Their peers don't understand this, she knows; half of them think one is playing the other and the other half think they're physically involved and are keeping it a secret. It's a villain thing, she supposes, this inability to trust another person or to believe that people can care about each other without having an ulterior motive.

But it's possible, she knows, possible because that's the relationship she and the doctor have—no strings attached, no expectations. The doctor has never shown anything for her but genuine concern and absent-minded affection. (Of course, in this tally she's not counting those moments, increasingly frequent of late, when he stares at her with fearful eyes and she knows she needs to reassure him that she's here, that he's doing well, that she's not leaving him—but she chalks those up to residual self-doubt from his childhood, and it makes her feel needed and strangely happy so she has no problem with making some quip to reassure him, in a roundabout way, that he's still good enough for her.) He never even thought of taking advantage of her on the two occasions when her mind was not her own and he could have done anything to her, absolutely anything, and she's amazed at that kind of kindness from a villain, and she always immediately quashes the thought that looking back on it now, she's slightly, slightly hurt that he reacted with such horror when that love chip was on her neck.

She, in turn, cares about him in a mix of exasperated fondness and loving annoyance, as anyone would a very dear friend who frequently blew things up or endangered her life or generally made a mess of things. She admits that she finds him endearing, in his odd way, but that's entirely different from wanting to date him. So if she finds herself more dependent on his company lately—if she occasionally catches her breath when he stands very close to her—she chalks it up this strange new friendship they have. But to say they're romantically involved is just laughable, as she tells anyone who asks.

Because friends is all they are and all she wants them to be, she tells herself, and most of the time she believes it.

x x x x x x

"Why do you stay?"

It's him who's asking this time, and she has no answer. Things have changed, suddenly, irrevocably, for the both of them but mostly for him. He finally got everything he ever wanted—vindication, respect, acceptance–and she's happy for him, so happy it almost physically hurts. But where does that leave her? He's in demand now. The Department of Defense has already assigned him a project, and government agencies are lining up to be next. He's getting paid, properly paid, and his experimentation is funded. There's no more need for stealing, no more need for fighting . . . no more need for her.

And yet, when the awards ceremony is over, she follows him like a lost puppy back to the lair because it feels like going home, follows him because if she's not with him she doesn't know where to go or what to do or who she is. The logical thing to do, she knows, is to pack her things and find a new employer. But the thought of leaving him is physically painful, like a punch to the gut. She's never felt that way about anyone before. So instead she stands quietly at the door of the lair and wonders how to answer his question.

"Why are you still here?" he repeats, timidly and unsurely, like the little boy she knows he still is in so many ways, and suddenly she knows the answer. She knows why she's still here, why she's always been still here, even when she didn't know it. She doesn't know how to verbalize it but she knows it needs to be understood, so she takes two soft steps toward him and kisses him, and it's the most natural thing in the world. And when she feels his shy arms lift to carefully draw her closer to him, she decides that this is a very good reason to stay.

So she does.

x x x x x x

fin