Has it been a while? Indeed. And I apologize. This story, from here on out, will be updated every two weeks, the next chapter planned to come out April 11th. I've been keeping a schedule of my other stories so far, and I've been following them pretty well. If all goes well, this story will come out on time.

My other Kim Possible stories, Crash and He Did With Me, will have their next respective chapters posted in the next week. Unlike Hate, those stories will be updated weekly.

Also worth nothing, I fixed some errors, grammar, conversational flaws, etc. in the first six chapters of this story. Nothing significant has been altered, but I always recommend reading through them just to ensure all looks well. Also, to make it clear, this story began near the beginning of Kim and Ron's junior year, before the episode "Emotion Sickness."

Should you have any comments, please let me knew via personal message or review.

I want to give shout-outs to Mr. Mortis (who sent me an uplifting personal message), levi2000a1 (who has been a supporter of mine for some time - I highly encourage checking out his Kim Possible stories), Mommerally, littleMJvr - k0209, Wolflover2323, agentinfinity, Indri08, starfiction123, and DavidC20OfficialWriter (all for writing reviews for this story early 2013 and up). Though it's been a while, with the help of you all, and the support I'm getting, I know it won't be a difficult transition getting back into this story.

One last note, and I do apologize for the long AN this time around, this chapter is a bit shorter than my others. From the beginning, I knew this was likely to be the case. Sort of a half-way point leading into the second and final act, if you will. I hope, given the long wait, that none are offended by the length.

And of course, unless something drastic has changed, I do not own Kim Possible.

If you had asked Kim later how she got through the next ten hours, she wouldn't have been able to answer.

In fact, if you had asked her anything, her reply might be quite short.

Ron's okay - Ron's okay, she considered over and over, a reoccurring mantra, sitting in a waiting room at Municipal Hospital, absentmindedly stroking Rufus, her right leg bandaged up, though the low throbbing had ceased.

Trotzer was sitting across from her, observing her, silent and contemplative. Though the two had spoken since they'd gotten Ron flown out (Trotzer was not one to travel much, but when he did, it was in style), they had shared occasional words. Ask either one what those words were, though, and you'd get an quizzical look as your only answer.

But Doctor Schiltz did inform them that Ron had been stabilized, and in fact, the bullet had not done nearly as much internal damage as initially thought. While it was lodged in him, the surgery went as well as possible, and the recovery, at most, would take just over two months.

While Kim found this all positive news in the abstract, she refused to let herself think Ron was okay until she could see him. Doctor Schiltz advised against it, but after Kim relented and relented, she was allowed a brief glimpse. And just as the doctor had said, he looked quite normal. He could have been sleeping. It was then she went back and sat across from Trotzer, where the two of them had been sitting in silence for close to 45 minutes.

"It amazes me," Trotzer spoke, his voice quite croaky. He coughed, and continued on, Kim not meeting his eyes. "I've spent most my life feeling a disdain for Jews. The heinous things I've done-"

He sighed to himself, and shook his head. "But he saved me, knowing full well my actions. What a remarkable thing," Trotzer ended in wonderment.

Kim wiped some new tears from her eyes. "And now what do you feel?" Her voice, if anything, was drier than Trotzer's.

"Astonished," he began. "Ashamed. Miss Possible, quite honestly, I don't know how I feel. I still feel," Trotzer paused, searching for the right, perhaps most appropriate, word, "a sense of disgust toward them as a race. But toward the individual? Toward Ron?" Kim looked up, surprise in her eyes, as this had been the first time he used his name. "I can say I feel nothing but gratitude. And an apology is owed to Mr. Stoppable, and yourself, as soon as he is conscious."

"If Ron died, I don't know what I'd have done," Kim said, a mixture of anger and misery in her tone. "I might have killed you myself."

Another sigh escaped Trotzer's lips, this one heavier. "To be perfectly honest, I cannot say that I'd have deserved anything less."

And with that, the silence resumed.

A room.

Trotzer, Kim, Rufus, and his parents all were playing checkers.

But it's as though he wasn't there. Ethereal. Intangible.

"Kim," Ron cried out, but recoiled immediately - the voice that rang out was so unlike his own. And from the reaction at the table, or more appropriately, the lack thereof, no one took notice anyways.

"I'm here, Ron," a whisper, so small, sounded in his ear.

And she was.

Tara stood, her sorrowful eyes, so like an angel, glancing over the whole of Ron's body. Glancing, Ron noted, at the hole in his body.

The bullet hole.

Faded.

He could see still. But faded. Washed out. Despite how hard he tried, the image, the movements, in front of him came out no clearer. And he finally thought he understood.

"I'm dead," he said to himself, no more than a mumble, but it came out a thunderous sound.

And echoed.

He wasn't scared. Well, he was, but no more than one might be scared of missing a homework assignment. The dread existed, but the amount was minimal.

His regrets, Kim, Tara, Rufus, his father and mother, flooded his vision. But it was time to move on. And once he saw the dazzling radiance dance down upon the solid black floor, he knew what he had to do.

Ron Stoppable walked toward what he expected to be a very long stay in Heaven.

"Uhh," Ron whimpered lightly. Still, Nurse Steffen heard the sound, and looked up from her chart.

"Mr. Stoppable," she asked, her clipped accent not rendering the English incomprehensible, but doing a mighty fine job, "are you awake?"

Without opening his eyes (highly doubting he could even manage such a daunting task), Ron replied, his throat parched. "I take it this isn't Heaven?"

A smile came upon her face, a smile saved solely for patients. "I am sorry, but that ship sailed long ago, as you Americans say."

Ron tried to nod his head, but found he couldn't muster the strength. "Are Kim and Trotzer okay?"

"Your friends are just fine," the woman replied, "but let me get Doctor Schiltz. He should be informed."

As she left the room, she heard the boy muttering to himself. If she had to guess, it had been a prayer.

An alien sound arose from Kim's pocket, and jolted her out of her half-hearted slumber.

"Wazzat," she mumbled, though to whom, she'd no idea.

The Kimmunicator kept ringing.

Groaning, she stood up, stretched, and brought it to her face, walking to the far end of the room as to not disturb Trotzer, or Rufus, for that matter, from their likewise haphazard sleep.

"What the heck is going on, Kim," Wade frantically inquired, his tone one of fretfulness. "You haven't called in all day, and I see that you're in a hospital. Are you okay?"

Kim felt almost nothing at this. The shock was taking time to wear off, and so this still all felt so unreal. So she stood there, looking back at Wade.

"Earth to Kim, you there," he asked, his eyebrows creased together in concern.

"Ron's been shot, but he's okay," Kim replied. Her voice sounded distant. It was her's, no doubt, but it sounded as though it came from another room. Another time.

"HE'S WHAT?"

This make Kim shake her head, clearing it of her detached buzz. Her voice, less fluid, replied. "Listen, Wade. I don't want to do this now. But earlier today, much earlier, Ron was shot by an assassin. I went to go pursue the assassin, but he got away. I," her voice broke down, and stuttered, "I-I didn't know he was hurt. Or I never would have left."

Wade, to his credit, took this well.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU CONTACT ME AS SOON AS IT HAPPENED?"

"I was in shock, Wade," she sharply replied. I so don't want to have this conversation now. "Here's what you need to know: Ron was shot. The assassins got away. Trotzer is completely unharmed."

"And Ron is fine," Wade asked, his voice noticeably restrained, though to deny there was an edge to it was to deny the sky was vast. "Are you sure?"

"Doctor -" Kim faltered. She had absolutely zero idea what the doctor's name was. "The doctor said he was," Kim amended. "I haven't heard anything in over 30 minutes, but he was stirring before I fell asleep."

Wade's fingers were massaging the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath. "Since you didn't contact me, can I correctly assume you've not gotten in touch with Ron's parents yet?"

At this, Kim gulped, and Wade noticed. "I'll take that as a no."

Frustrated, Kim almost felt like crying. "I. Was. In. Shock."

Mumbling something under his breath Kim couldn't quite catch, he replied, "Here is what I'll do. I'll translate the doctor's records and call Ron's parents. Once I do that, they'll want to talk to you. I will try to temper them as much as I can. But they need to be called."

Meekly, she asked, "How late is it over there?"

"Late enough," Wade said in a tone so much unlike his average self. "I'll let you know when the call's about to be made. Give me ten minutes."

At that, his face flickered from the screen. Kim lowered herself slowly back into her seat. Though, at that point, any thoughts about drowsing off again were far from her mind.

What can I say to Ron's parents?

She didn't know. She did know that while Mr. Stoppable generally has a calm demeanor, Mrs. Stoppable was far less likely to follow suit. Not that she didn't have good reason.

He was my responsibility, Kim thought with a sigh. So I have to be able to do this, and make sure they know how bad I feel, especially-

Her train of thought ceased completely, and a blush came to her cheeks.

I love Ron. And I let this happen.

Again, tears began forming in the corner of her eyes, the same tears that threatened to appear moments ago. It was only when a hand touched her shoulder that she jerked out of her stupor.

"Mr. Stoppable is awake, Miss Possible," Dr. Schiltz spoke. "He's weak, but is able to talk. I thought you might want to see him," he said, his face betraying a slight smile.

Mutely, Kim nodded, and followed the doctor to Ron's room in silent obedience. The walk wasn't a long one, not by minutes, but for Kim, it felt just shy of infinite.

"Is your leg feeling better," Schiltz conversationally asked.

"Uh, yeah," Kim blankly replied, honestly forgetting her leg had been injured in the first place. "It's no big."

The doctor nodded. "Indeed, you were very lucky, Miss Possible. Mr. Stoppable too, for that matter." He gave her a small smile. "You must be doing something right."

Though Kim didn't reply, she personally disagreed with the doctor's assessment. Earlier that day, she had done almost nothing right. Evidenced, of course, by Ron being shot. Schiltz didn't say anything more as the two walked on.

As luck would have it, it was just as they reached Ron's room that the Kimmunicator jingled. Gulping beforehand, she brought it out of her pocket. Wade's face was hard, but he did try to muster up an encouraging smile. That said, he failed as miserably as one could.

"Ron's parents want to talk to you," he stated.

Closing her eyes and imagining the worst, Kim nodded.

"Kim," came the (amazingly still) soft-spoken voice of Ron's father, "can you please tell me what happened?"

"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Stoppable," the girl began, and it was evident from her tone that she meant it, "I wasn't paying attention to him and he got shot protecting the man we came out here to help. Um, he's awake now, and I think the doctor would let you speak to him," she stated, looking over at Doctor. Schiltz, who nodded, "so if you want-"

"Can you hand us over to the doctor, Kim," Mr. Stoppable asked gently. "You go see Ron, check how he's doing, and then we'll talk to him." A quieter voice could be heard on his end, but Mr. Possible, in a muffled tone, said, "No, honey, it'll be fine. Don't worry. Kim," his voice clearer now, "the doctor, please?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," she replied, and handed the device over to Doctor Schiltz. "It's his parents," Kim explained. He nodded once more, and took the Kimmunicator. Kim left him in the hallway, and stepped lightly into Ron's room.

He was lying in bed, breathing slowly, eyes closed. For a second, Kim felt a sense of betrayal; he's not awake, why-

"Kim," rose the hopeful voice of Ron, as rough as it was.

And the feeling of betrayal melted away instantly.

"Yeah, Ron, I'm here," she replied, her tone much stronger than she would have guessed it'd be. She placed a hand on his left shoulder as soon as she walked up to him. "I'm here."

"Everyone's okay? You, Trotzer?"

Though she knew he couldn't see her, she nodded with a light smile. "Yeah, everyone's okay." Kim couldn't help it; her voice was breaking. "You did really well back there."

"Oh, Kim," he replied, grunting as he moved his left hand toward her voice - she took it in her hands lightly - "come on, don't cry. It'll be okay." Again, she nodded, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. "We're all okay." He gulped. "I mean, it doesn't hurt that much."

Kim gave a watery chuckle. "I'm sorry, Ron. I never meant-"

"No, KP." He gave her hands a squeeze. "You didn't do anything wrong. The doctor spoke to me. I'll be, like, completely fine in a few months. And Barkin can't make me do any P.E., so it's a win for everyone."

The red-headed girl, at this, could hold it in no longer, and broke down completely. And instead of attempting to console her with words, Ron simply squeezed her hands again, acutely aware that Kim's head was on his shoulder.

"Ron," Kim began, when she found her voice, "I think that I l-"

A knock on the door ended that thought, for which Kim was both grateful for and disheartened by.

"Mr. Stoppable," Doctor Schiltz said, entering the room, "your parents would very much like to speak to you, if you're feeling up to it." He held out the Kimmunicator to him, and with one last squeeze of his hand, he let go of Kim, and grabbed it. "Miss Possible," the doctor quietly said, nodded to the door. Kim whispered into Ron's ear before taking herself off him, "I'll be right outside."

And as hard as it was, she followed the doctor outside of his room, absentmindedly wiping away the tears still slowly come down her face. It was then she realize that Rufus too would like to see Ron, and she told as much to Schiltz.

"Do you need to be directed back to Mr. Stoppable's room," he asked gently.

She shook her head. "No, I know the way." And she did - she remembered every step.

As soon as Kim and Doctor Schiltz left, a small conflict broke out.

"It's not Kim's fault," Ron firmly insisted, mustering all the limited strength he could. Arguing with his parents, though it generally didn't happen often, always took a lot out of him. "Kim didn't shoot me. Some assassin did, and he wasn't even aiming for me."

That fact, not that he truly would have expected it to, did not help smooth matters over.

"Ronald, you got shot," his mother said in a hushed voice. "Kim was supposed to watch out for your safety. She always was. And she didn't."

At this, Ron huffed. "I can take care of myself."

"We know, Ronald," his father spoke up, his voice a stark contrast to that of his mother. "We know. But I do think it's fair for us to be concerned. Your life was put on the line, son, and it sounds like Kim wasn't fully prepared for what you two were jumping into. Now, whether that was due to bad intel on your computer buddy's part or Kim not fully understanding the situation, the point remains that you were not safe."

"I was safe," Ron stressed. How do I get it through to my parents, his panicked mind raced. "It's not Kim's fault that some guy stuck behind to flush Trotzer out. I mean, he came out of nowhere. Nobody-"

"None of that matters," Ron's mother snapped. "I don't care if 50 assassins barged in at 4 in the morning. Kim was supposed to keep you," she paused, as his father whispered something into her ear that Ron didn't catch, "help keep you safe, I mean, and she didn't do it. As far as I'm concerned, that's the big headline."

"I'm sorry, mom, but I don't agree," Ron replied weakly, not knowing what else to say.

"Well, once you're back home, we're going to have a long talk about this and your adventures with Kim," Ron's mother replied.

"I'm not going to stop going on missions with Kim," Ron firmly said.

"We're your parents, Ronald, you'll do what we say," his mother shot back. After a little rustling, his father came back on the line.

"Listen, son, let's not talk about this now. Get some rest, and we'll talk to you tomorrow. We can figure everything out once you get home."

Ron sighed, though he was happy his father took control of the conversation.

"Okay dad, that sounds good. Love you," Ron replied.

"We love you too, son. Have a nice night."

Feeling his energy deplete, he placed the Kimmunicator on the nightstand.

When was Kim coming back? Ron thought hard - actually, he didn't know if she said she was. Sighing at that, he fluffed his pillow, and placed his head down. Sleep came swiftly afterwards.

Rufus snuggling on Ron's chest, Kim couldn't help but feel envious. Still, she held his hand in hers, and wasn't inclined at all to let go anytime soon.

Trotzer was pleased to hear that Ron was awake, and let her know that as soon as Ron'd be able to, he'd like to speak to him alone. At first, Kim was against this idea, but something honest, something sincere, in his tone, let her believe that it'd be all right. But that was for later - right now, Kim wanted to sit by his side for as long as Doctor Schiltz would allow.

As such, when Kim had returned with Rufus, Ron was asleep. Whatever he had spoken to his parents about must have taken a lot out of him. The Kimmunicator lay on the nightstand next to his bed, untouched, and all but unnoticed, by Kim.

She mulled over all that had happened today, the frantic thoughts, the revelations, the shock.

The thing she had almost told Ron earlier, and would have, if not for the doctor's unintended interruption.

Would Ron even want to be with me, he mind forced forward. To date me? Kim paused. The thought of dating Ron, treating him as a significant other (though, truth be told, who else in Kim's life could be counted as anything close to a significant other besides Ron?) struck Kim as bizarre. Kissing. Hugging. Snuggling. Kim shivered, and goose bumps flared up on Kim's arms. This is so not the same thing that I felt for Josh. It was utterly different.

As muddled as her feelings were, as puzzled as she was over so many things, one thing remained clear, just as it had been so much earlier that day: she loved Ron.

But he only sees me as a friend? Again, Kim shivered. She was Kim Possible. She could do anything. Anything's possible for a Possible. But she couldn't face that again.

How can I let him know? How can I tell him? How-

"Kim," Ron spoke out, this time managing to open his eyes, Kim noted, and lost herself in their chocolate shade.

"I'm still here," she said unnecessarily, speaking in low tones.

"KP, I-I," Ron faltered, and took a deep breath in. "I lied, KP, about Tara. About what happened."

She shook herself out from her stupor. Kim knew he didn't tell the whole truth - that note, that note that she read a hundred years ago, flooded her mind. But why would-

"Her father didn't get mad at me about a joke I said," Ron explained, his eyes downcast, obvious to Kim's looks of pity. "He was like, super Christian or something. Baptist, I dunno. But when he found out I was Jewish, he sorta went ballistic. I was pretty scared," he admitted. "And he yelled at Tara, and forbidded her from seeing me. And I pretty much listened."

Ron stopped for a bit. "I'm sorry I lied to you, KP. It's just, those memories, that night, I didn't want to think about it. And I tried calling Tara earlier, that day we left. Her father wouldn't let me talk to her at all. It's just so hard," he finished, gulping.

"It's okay, Ron, I understand. I do," she urged sympathetically. "What-what do you want to do about it," Kim asked, her cheeks reddening.

Ron sighed. "I don't know if I can date Tara if her father hates me. I mean, Tara doesn't care. She wrote me a note saying that even if her father disapproved, if Bonnie stopped being her friend, she wouldn't care as long as we're together. But-" He shook his head. "I don't know if I could date her under those circumstances. I just need to think about it."

The silence between them resumed, this time with Ron conscious, deep in thought.

After a few minutes of this, Kim could take no more. Her heart beating faster than she could scarcely imagine, she spoke. "Ron, there's something I really need to tell you."

He stared forward, unaware of her words.

"Ron." She grasped his hand with more strength. "Ron, you okay?"

"Yeah," he replied, his tone faraway. "I think I need to try and make it work, Kim," he stated, turning his head back toward her. "I mean with Tara and all. She really likes me, and I-" he exhaled. "I really like her too. And I didn't know that. I liked her, sure, but now that I think about it, I really, really like her, ya know, KP? Like you used to feel for Josh."

Kim shook her head slowly. "No, Ron," she said, her voice hollow. Empty. Hurt. "It's nothing at all like Josh was. It's much more than that."

"I guess you're right," Ron agreed, not feeling Kim's pronounced shivering strike again. "I guess that I do like her more. When I was dating Zita, I mean, it was fun, and she was cute, but this feels like a lot, I dunno, deeper," he questioned, more to himself, Kim thought, than anyone. "And I didn't see it before. But it feels, I dunno, right."

"Well," Kim began, but then stopped. Standing up, she went to the window, looking out at the sky. Ron curiously glanced at her, but remained quiet. My chance of being open- She shook her head. Kim needed not to complete that thought. That chance was gone.

Attempting as best she could to force a smile, she turned back to Ron. "I'm happy for you, and I hope that you guys can get the relationship to work out."

"Thanks, KP," Ron replied. Staring back at the ceiling, he breathed a breath of relief. "I'm happy that nothing's changed between us. I was worried something would. These last few days, I dunno, things have been sorta strange between us, don't ya think"

Gulping, Kim nodded. "So not the drama, Ron," she said, her tone lacking the insouciance of her words. "Nothing's changed. Don't worry about that."

Though it has, she knew.

Everything changed.

The next morning, more accurately, 8:00 am, Kim was woken up by Nurse Steffen. At first, she panicked, thinking something was wrong with Ron, but the nurse's smile put those worried to bed.

"It's okay, honey," she had lightly said, and Kim blinked her eyes a few times, flummoxed. She was in the waiting room still - of course she was. Trotzer had offered to take her back to his mansion. She had refused, and Trotzer, expecting it, nodded. He slept there too without complaining once.

"Your thing was ringing," she stated, nodded to the Kimmunicator. "I didn't want you to wake up Mr. Trotzer."

Groggily, Kim nodded. "Thanks."

Picking up the device, she spoke in whispers to Wade. "What's the sitch?"

"Sorry for disturbing your sleep, Kim," Wade said with a yawn. "I've been corresponding with Global Justice since I found out what happened, and they're more than willing to guard Trotzer for whatever duration you guys think will be necessary. Dr. Director said that they could have agents out later today. That way, once Schiltz allows Ron to be moved back to Middleton, Trotzer will still be in safe hands. That is, if he accepts."

"Oh," Kim replied, surprised. "Thanks, Wade, that's great. I'll let him know when he wakes up. Uh," she paused for a second - "do the doctors know when Ron will be able to go back to Middleton? Like, how long will we be here?"

"According to the files, he should be cleared to leave for tomorrow," Wade replied. "Just hang in there. I know it's hard," he further stressed, "but you're in the home stretch. Once you guys get back here, things will slide back into normal."

Kim gave Wade a slight grin, though inside she disagreed entirely with his assessment. He doesn't know about how I feel. About the whole Tara thing. How can things go back to normal?

"Thanks, Wade, for keeping me up-to-date. Might want to get some sleep, because you look terrible."

Wade chuckled. "I'll do just that, Kim. Let Ron know that I'm eager for him to heal up. Later," he finished, and with a nod, he disappeared from the screen.

Kim sighed.

One more day. One more day.

It wasn't much. Ron was already out of danger according to the doctors and nurses, so it was now just a waiting game. And in many ways, just waiting for the go-ahead that they could return to Middleton, struck Kim as worse than before, when they had waited for days until the assassins attacked. That was now over, at least for now. Global Justice would take over the case, and Kim and Ron could go back home.

To what, Kim considered glumly. Her emotional state wasn't something she felt able to pin down - one moment, she was happy, overjoyed, that everyone had physically come out okay, even Trotzer. But other times, when it hit her that Ron was likely to start dating Tara again, and this time openly, she felt utterly distraught. She had already resigned to trying to talk to her mom about it (though, based on the conversation she had with her parents the day prior, they might have other things to discuss first), but in the end, she doubted it could do much good. Even so, it's better than doing nothing.

Maybe Tara wouldn't want to get back with Ron, her mind put forward, but almost as quickly as the thought came to her, she quashed it. That note. There's no way she'd write that and then, all of the sudden, decide she didn't want to date him.

Kim audibly growled, frustrated. Why now? Why now, of all times, do I get feelings for Ron? She didn't know. The best she could come up with, if she thought hard about it, was that when Monique asked her about dating Ron a few weeks prior. Before that, she had never seen Ron as anything but her best friend. But afterwards? She saw Ron as a guy, as a person of potential romantic interest. And the more Kim thought and dwelled on it, the more she realized that no one but Ron would work. Even if she had dated Josh, would he be okay with her missions every other day? Would he be okay if Ron went with her on missions? Kim thought he would have been. Josh was a very chill guy. But would she want to give him that to worry about?

The point was moot regardless. Her crush on Josh, she now thought childish compared to what she felt for Ron. But how to let Ron know? Should she even, at this point, let him know, given that he might soon be dating Tara again?

Kim had no idea, and that was the most frustrating part of all.

"Global Justice," Trozter repeated, unsure, after Kim had brought it up over lunch. "Do you trust them?"

"I personally know the director, Trozter," Kim replied, chewing on her sandwich. "They're fine, and," she added, begrudgingly, "they're more professional then I am. One of the assassins said something about as soon as we're gone, they'll come back for you. And we have to assume that they know you weren't killed by their fail-safe agent."

Trotzer sighed. "Well, if that's what must be done, then so be it. I do thank you for what you've done for me, Miss Possible. I know it's been rough, but-"

"No big, it's what I do," Kim stated, though it sounded, by this point, more like empty rhetoric than anything.

"Is Mr. Stoppable awake at the moment," Trotzer inquired, "as I'd really like to speak with him before he leaves tomorrow."

"Last I saw, he was sleeping, but he's getting stronger, so I think if you went in, he'd be fine," Kim said, sipping some cola. "As long as you ask the doctor first."

"I think I shall," Trotzer said with a nod. "Tonight, perhaps after dinner, I think I'll go back home, assess the damage, and start on repairs. I would recommend you come too, as your belongings will need to be picked up."

Nodding, Kim said, "Okay, that's fine. Based on what Wade said, Global Justice agents should be there already, so we should be good on that front. Once you're done talking with Ron, I wanted to let him know we're leaving tomorrow, and we can leave after that. Just let me know."

Trotzer indicated he would.

Around 3:00, Trotzer entered Ron's room. Ron perked up, and upon seeing that it was Trotzer, his face displayed confusion. He looked at Rufus, but his pet shared in his befuddlement, and shrugged.

"I was wondering if I could speak to you briefly, Mr. Stoppable. If you'd prefer not, or would like a different time, I-"

"No, now's fine," Ron replied, his confused tone still present. "You doing okay?"

Trotzer waved his hand, dismissing the comment. "I'm fine, just fine." Pulling a chair up to Ron's bed, Trozter sat down, facing him. After a long-winded sigh, he spoke. "I cannot begin to even express what I am feeling, Mr. Stoppable," Trozter acknowledged. "This past day. No," he mused. "Since our talk, I've been confused, to put it lightly."

"Listen, it's okay," Ron said, and Trotzer knew that, from the boy's perspective, it was. "Whatever you feel, whatever you come out of this feeling, it's fine."

Trotzer shook his head adamantly. "I really don't understand you, boy. How you can keep insisting that everything's okay is beyond me. You in the hospital, shot, because you saved the life of someone who despises your people."

"Do you still despise Jews," Ron inquired, with a slight yawn he couldn't hold back.

"I-I don't know," Trotzter admitted. "Hand to God, I honestly don't know."

"Even if you weren't having second thoughts, I wouldn't regret a thing."

Trotzer sighed, and saw that Ron fully predicted an answer along those lines.

"When I was a boy, my life was hard," Trotzer remarked. "Do you know of Germany history? What we went through after the damned Treaty of Versailles?"

Ron shook his head. "History's not really a strong point."

Trotzer waved his hand dismissively once more. "That's perfectly fine. Most of us were poor, ravaged. Our country was all but destroyed. Our economy was shot, our infrastructure decimated, what-have-you. Those November criminals, our own government, stabbed us in the back. They did that to us. But some people, despite the poverty surrounding them, were able to make ends meet. And a lot of those who kept their money, their wealth, were Jews." At this point, Trotzer grimaced, almost automatically. "This man, Schwalenberg, was doing well for himself. Ran a small grocery shop. I saw him all the time when I was a kid. And while we were struggling, doing all we could stay afloat, there Schwalenberg was, without a care in the world."

"The worst thing about it all was how he treated us," Trotzer continued. "Oh, he wasn't unkind," he added, seeing the question forming on Ron's lips, "no, it was that he took pity on us. When he'd see me, my brothers, or mother come in for some bread, he'd always reduce the price. Said that we could pay him in full 'when we could manage.' And he never once allowed us to go hungry."

"Mr. T," Ron began, shaking his head, not understanding, "he sounds like a real nice man. I mean, I don't see the-"

"It was pride. And dignity. My family always was able to fend for themselves. But then that damned Treaty." Trotzer sighed, and shook his head. "I was born before the first war ended. And I didn't know what was going on. I was a boy. No one expected boys to understand how Communists had taken over the Weimar government. When Hitler first tried to take power late 1923, I was eight. I didn't know why my parents were hoping that his coup would be successful. I only knew that we were suffering. My older brothers worked when they could. My parents worked. But it wasn't enough. And we were suffering."

Trotzer gulped a few times, and turned away from Ron to wipe some tears out of his eyes. "I had a younger sister. Arabella." Trotzer then smiled, though to Ron, it was one of the saddest smiles he'd ever seen. "Ara, we'd call her. She was born after the Treaty, in 1922. Oh, times were hard, but my parents were so happy to welcome her into their lives, and I was happy too, because joy was so uncommon then for us. My older brothers moved out, and I was her primary caretaker once my mother got a job in an office. Ara. She was a good girl, and I look back on 1922 as a good year." Trotzer paused for a long while, dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief he pulled out of his pocket. After some time, he mournfully said, "She was killed seven years later, when people broke into our house, looking for food."

"And all the while, Schwalenberg was doing just fine, mostly untouched by all that was happening."

Trotzer exhaled, and put his right hand to his mouth. "It was jealousy. I knew it then. But my parents were shells of their former selves. My brothers had moved away for better prospects. I was 15. I was angry. And I heard what many of my countrymen were saying, that it's the fault of the Juden. Looking at Schwalenberg, looking at his family, his shop, I believed it. I was bitter, and I resented the hell out of him. He gave my family free food for the week after Ara's death, though. He said he was sorry. Asked if there was anything he could do. I know it sounds amazing, Mr. Stoppable, but I never hated a man more than I hated him in that moment."

Silence permeated the room as Ron took in what Trotzer had said.

"I can't judge you," Ron began after a bit, "for what you felt when you went through that. I don't know what I would have done in the same situation. But Jews were still people, and-"

"Yes, yes, it seems clear-cut now," Trotzer cut him off, his tone not unkind. "But it wasn't then. When Kristallnacht happened, when Jewish businesses were firebombed, we didn't really see them as people. I won't lie, I did some things that night that I was never truly proud of. But I guess we can't take back what we've done."

Ron looked away, toward the window, though his angle wasn't conducive to really look outside.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry for what you went through," Ron replied, turning back toward him.

Trotzer nodded, and the two of them sat in silence for the next twenty minutes.

The flight back to Trotzer's castle was a quick one. After directing the Global Justice agents to Ron's room, their collective luggage was placed on Trotzer's helicopter, ready to be taken back to the hospital. Trozter had since moved back into the den, sitting in his chair, the fire now stoked and embers flying upward. Agents stood outside the room, and five additional agents were stationed around the grounds. With that configuration, Kim personally thought, for now, that Trotzer was likely to be quite safe.

"Miss Possible," Trotzer called, just as Kim was passing the den, most likely never to see Trotzer again, "if you could, I'd like a word with you."

Kim sighed, though like much of the time recently, found it hard to exert the energy to be angry at him. She turned into the room and sat in a chair across from him.

"What's up?"

"I want to thank you again for what you've done. I know we haven't spoken about this, but when I contacted your site, I offered money for your services. Was that something that interested you?"

Kim thought hard, and nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great. Wade can help disperse whatever you're offering."

"Of course, of course." He said nothing more, and Kim sat there awkwardly, looking over the 90-year old man.

"Was there, uh," she began, "anything else?"

"I suppose what's needed to have been said has been said," Trotzer replied.

Agreeing, Kim stood up, and Trotzer followed suit.

"I can't say that it's been a great time," Kim admitted, "but ignoring everything else, you've been an okay host."

"I only wish," Trotzer started, but then shook his head. "Well, thank you, Miss Possible. For everything."

He held out his hand. At first, Kim was quite hesitant to take it. The fact that he was a former Nazi, that he was culpable in the deaths of human Jews in the Holocaust, made her take pause. But Kim looked over Trotzer again - here stood an aging man, a man who, if lucky, had at most five years left in his life. A man who lived a life different then hers in so many ways. In the end, it wasn't really a challenge.

She shook his hand.

"If you need anything, let Global Justice know. They'll be happy to help you out and keep you safe."

"Godspeed, Miss Possible," Trotzer said, letting go of her hand and bowing his head.

"And you, Trotzer. And you."

The sun was shining, the shade of the sky a darkened vanilla. The grass a brilliant green. Even the forest, the same forest where Kim had chased the assassin into, appeared pleasant.

Kim breathed in the fresh air. Why didn't I suggest walking the perimeter to Ron the very first morning? She knew, though - that was the morning that they found out what Trotzer used to be.

She looked up at the looming structure, past the third floor, to the mysterious locations she'd never been. While not imaging that anything too interesting remained up there, she couldn't pretend to herself that she, at one point, wasn't interesting in suggesting to Ron they go explore. Like how they explored the old Middleton Fairgrounds when they were eleven. Though she didn't know if that fully counted - they were there only ten minutes before Ron, spooked out of his mind, forced them to go.

What she didn't tell him then, and never did tell him, was that she was scared too. And what he mistook for an exhaling breath of annoyance was truly a sigh of relief.

Her eyes next moved onto the small pond, her rippled reflection, her face appearing mute in color, staring back at her.

It'll never be the same.

The thought was melodramatic. Kim was fully aware of this. But still, it felt so true.

Life back in Middleton would differ drastically from what it was before this mission. But it wasn't the mission that was the cause; Kim wasn't as foolish as to believe that. The emotional turmoil felt by both Kim and Ron was set in motion weeks before this mission, long before they heard the name Trotzer. But this was the stage in which much of the drama played out.

"Miss Possible," one of the agents called out, running over to her. "The helicopter pilot wants to know if you're ready to go. Apparently, he has an appointment later tonight, so he'd prefer to get back to Luxembourg City sooner as opposed to later."

With one last glance of the castle, and a side glance at the first, Kim nodded. "I'm ready."

Early next morning, with Ron safely secured in the back of the small plane, the pilot came up to Kim, curiously glancing over at the hospital bed.

"Well, we're good to go when you are, Miss Possible. You sure that he'll be okay for this trip?"

"The doctor okayed it," Kim replied simply, looking back at Ron herself. He was asleep, and Rufus was on top of him, giving Kim a thumbs up sign. "It's what, an hour and a half flight?"

"That's about right," the pilot nodded. "Well, if you're ready, you may want to sit down."

Kim sighed, and did as he suggested. She looked out of the window to her left, witnessing Luxembourg City waking up. It was a beautiful country from what she saw, though she'd not experienced that much of it. And she would miss it, just a bit.

As the plane took off, though, Kim had one thought in mind as she held Ron's hand.

It'll be great to be home.