Author's/Notes:

Welcome to RSVP IV: Tales of the Kimarillion. A repository of alternate scenes and stories, some set in the KP Universe Prime, others set in alternate universes, and some-like this-set in a parallel, next door universe to the first chapter of RSVP I: The Fellowship of the Ron...

Required Disclaimer: Kim Possible and the KP Universe is the property of Disney & Co. Uncle Walt will rise from the grave should anyone suggest otherwise...

Strangers in the Night - Take 2

He had finally mastered the lotus position so that he could sit for hours without discomfort.

He had honed his meditation skills to where he could block all external distractions and commune with Master Sensei half-way around the world.

And—even better—he could hear his thoughts now without the old man having to resort to messages written in mystery meat gravy!

But the ultimate Monkey Master was still vulnerable to certain primal forces…

Do you need to seek shelter, Stoppable-san? Sensei's thoughts echoed in his head.

What? Why?

Is there not a terrible storm bearing down upon you? the old man "asked."

Ron Stoppable opened one eye, taking care to not let go of the ethereal connection he had with the head of Yamanouchi Academy.

All was quiet in the Stoppable household—not withstanding the small army of paparazzi still camped out in his front yard. A squad of monkey-ninjas—once the minions of Lord Montgomery Fiske—were still keeping order, discouraging the more aggressive members of the press as well as the fans, curiosity seekers, and out-right nut-jobs who failed to respect their new master's privacy.

His parents, unnerved by the sudden and invasive scrutiny, had decamped on another overseas trip of undetermined duration, leaving their suddenly mature and surprisingly unflappable son to deal with his new-found fame in his own, unique way.

As for the weather?

Sunlight streamed in through the second story windows and he could see that the blue skies were cloudless in at least two directions. It looks like a bondiggity beautiful day from here, he reported.

Just as he re-closed his eye, his stomach growled.

There it is again, the old man sent. Can you not hear the terrible thunder?

Heh. Uh, yeeaah. I'm thinking that's the dinner bell…

Dinner bell?

Ron couldn't tell if the wise old man was truly mystified or just pulling his leg. My stomach, sir. It's—well—sort of rumbling.

I can feel the vibrations coming through your chi, my son! You must literally be starving!

Well…I haven't eaten for a couple of hours now and I was thinking of heading over to Bueno Nacho. Ron sighed. If I can sneak out of my house without being spotted.

The old man chuckled. Of all of your adversaries, Fame may yet prove to be the most formidable. How are the others holding up?

Ron reviewed the events of the past few weeks.

The Possible house had been destroyed in the opening salvos of the Lowardian invasion and Kim's parents had kept their temporary quarters secret while they made plans to rebuild.

The other two members of the "Fearless Four" (as the tabloids had christened them, once videos of their battle with Warhok and Warmonga went viral) were keeping low profiles, as well.

Preferring his newfound status of "successful hero" over that of repeatedly "failed villain," Dr. Drakken had accepted a research appointment in the bio-weapons division of Global Justice. Dr. Director had extended the invitation, believing that his "flower power" had some fascinating, potential weapons applications.

She also believed in the old maxim: "Keep your friends close and your mad scientists closer". Since the Global Justice labs were Top Secret, Drakken was accepting most of his accolades by proxy.

Shego was pardoned of past crimes, as well, and offered a position with G.J. She had gone to ground soon after. With her unexplained absence Ron was left with the nagging suspicion that she had changed her mind about playing on the side of the angels.

The Director had been unusually tight-lipped on the subject. But then there had been little opportunity to discuss other people's business as she had scheduled Kim and Ron for a succession of meetings, personal appearances, seminars, and debriefings. These had them on separate schedules, often in different parts of the country.

It was frustrating spending so much time apart during the opening month of summer. A more cynical man might suspect that Global Justice saw more value in Team Possible as separate individuals than the successful gestalt that Kim and he had evolved over the years.

But things were bound to settle down eventually, he figured. In the meantime, he would continue to support Kim in her new-found celebrity as world-saver.

It wasn't Kim's ego at stake, here—though the more she said "No big!" the bigger it seemed to get. No, it was Global Justice's push to use their heroics to help rebuild national and international morale, shattered like the thousands of cities and towns in the aftermath of the Lowardian conquest.

And, as much as Ron tried to be supportive of Kim's and Dr. Director's vision for the new Global Justice version of Team Possible, he felt that he had to downplay his own part in the events of "Graduation Day" (as G.J. code-named their mission file). Aside from his loyalty to Kim in maintaining his "second banana" status and traditional role of "The Distraction," he was even more concerned with protecting the secrets of Yamanouchi and its ninja traditions.

Up until now it had been fairly easy: he was coming to suspect that his MMP—mystical monkey powers—were assisting him in this matter. While it wasn't entirely possible to "cloud men's minds" like a Jedi Master, he still seemed to have the knack for causing reporters to forget or, at least, misspell his name.

Still, it was getting harder and harder to do as viral, cell phone videos of him singlehandedly ending the alien invasion seemed to pop up on the internet every hour!

Sensei "listened" to Ron's words and considered the deeper potentials behind his observations.

This is a time of great change, Stoppable-san. Not just for you and your friends, but for the larger world, as well. I want you to consider coming back to Yamanouchi to meditate and train your new-found powers before making any final decisions on the next phase of your life.

Well, the young man pondered, it would be great to come back for a visit. And I still haven't got the hang of doin' the Big Blue…but Dr. Director seems to have the rest of my summer tied up tighter than Mr. Barkin's as— He caught himself in mid-thought. —signment schedules. And then we—Kim and I—were supposed to start college in the fall. Unconsciously, his right hand rose from his lap and rubbed the back of his neck. Although so many new offers from colleges have been pouring in since we became famous and Betty—I mean Dr. Director—is pushing us toward the Global Justice Academy…

Perhaps, his mentor suggested, a little retreat from the noise and confusion would give you a clearer perspective.

I'll talk to Kim and the director. He sat up a little straighter. Hey, maybe Kim could take some time off and come, too.

Stoppable-san…Possible-san's destiny is not tied to Yamanouchi as yours is. Do not misunderstand. She has her own path for now and your time with us would be best spent looking inward. One cannot build strong relationships until one is strong enough to spend time alone and use it constructively.

Ron had had Kim's back since Pre-K and their time together had only grown more precious since his status had changed from BFF to BF/BF (Best Friend/Boy Friend), but he could sense the wisdom in Sensei's words. And, between all of the rebuilding in Middleton (not to mention the rest of the planet) and all of the personal appearances that Bet—that is, Dr. Director—had scheduled for them, they really weren't spending that much time in each other's company, anyway. Kim seemed especially distracted these days and now might be the perfect time for a little spiritual fine-tuning.

The director would most likely be the problem.

Although she said that she had closed the files on the so-called "Ron Factor" study, he had felt her watchful eye on more than one occasion since then.

And after G.J.'s debriefing with Kim, Drakken, and Shego—as well as the videos that turned up of his Big Blue smackdown with the alien giants—Dr. "Call me Betty" Director had insinuated herself into every briefing/training session/public appearance that he was a part of. He had a sense that Kim would have an easier time in asking for personal leave than one Ronald "Can't Catch a Break Here" Stoppable.

Over the years he had thought about changing his name to something more appropriate, like "Ron Forgettable" or "Ron Diss-able." But now suddenly one of the hottest Dilf's (Director I'd like to—don't think about it! Don't think about it! Bad imagination! Bad! Bad!) was treating him like "Ron Indispensable!" And it wasn't just his own fantasy-driven paranoia: Kim had picked up on it, too. She had grown increasing tweaked at Betty—er, Dr. Director's—increasing focus on Ron and decreasing mentoring of the Girl-Who-Could-Do-Anything.

"It stands to reason," he had tried to reassure his redheaded partner: "how much mentoring does someone 'who can do anything' really need?"

Unfortunately that had just seemed to tweak her all the more.

Yeah, a little Ronalong Time might be a good idea right about now. Bet—Dr. Director—needed to remember that neither he nor Kim were sworn agents under her jurisdiction and that these PR junkets were strictly favors.

Favors that had somehow turned into an uncomfortable series of obligations.

And, maybe with himself out of the picture for a couple of weeks, Kim would get the validation she seemed to need right now.

One way or another, Ron Stoppable was still thinking about how to have Kim's back.

His stomach growled again and Sensei chuckled. You may go now, Master Stoppable. You should seek shelter at Bueno Nacho before that storm arrives.

Heh. Thanks, Master Sensei. I'll call Wade right now to set up my travel arrangements and then go tell the ladies that the Ron-man's got to go back to Summer School.

RSVP

"Exscuse me, Miz. I am vaiting for somebuty to join me here."

The tanned blond wearing sunglasses and a floppy hat sat down across from him in the booth anyway.

"Vat? Are you deff? I said—"

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you, Shorty," said an annoyingly familiar voice. "I'm here." She removed the sunglasses to reveal piercing green eyes.

"Shego?"

"Keep it down. I'm not deaf and neither is anyone else in this seedy dive. Unless it's you." She smirked. "Ya know, if you cut some ear-holes in that helmet of yours maybe you could have a conversation without yelling half of the time."

"Your disguise is amazink!"

"So don't ruin it by calling attention to us. Not that that ship hasn't already sailed with you wearing that stupid kettle out here in the open."

"Mine helmet disguises my true identity," the man known as Professor Dementor huffed.

"Yeeaah…but what disguises your helmet's identity?'

"Vat? Are you blind? I am vearing un hat!"

"It might look a little less ridiculous if you hadn't duct-taped it on top."

"It kept fallink off."

"Natch. You got a hat that's sized to fit an actual head. You should have ordered one in helmet-size."

"Are you going to vaste time making fun of mine disguise—"

"Or lack thereof," she drawled.

"—or are you interested in hearing mine offer?"

She sighed. "I've been getting a lot of offers lately. But I went to all the trouble to slap on some flesh-colored foundation and wear a wig so I might as well listen to yours."

The diminutive man grinned wolfishly. "I vant you to come vork for me!"

"And vhy—" The faux blonde shook her head. "—why would I want to do that?"

"Power, wealth, fame, glory!"

She tapped an index finger to the fingertips of her other hand. "Let's see now. Power? Already a human generator and power plant rolled into one. Wealth? Been socking it away for years, now, and made out like a bandit on some investments I made on the sideki—I mean, I don't ever have to work again if I don't want to. Fame? I'm a frikkin' hero. Saved the world. Remember I said a lot of offers? Was being overly modest. Let's see…what else? Oh, yeah: glory! See previous finger." She leaned forward. "Look Doctor Demento, I've wasted some of the best years of my life working for an idiot who couldn't pour pee out of a boot if the instructions were written on the heel. If I was going to trade up, it would have to be way up!"

"Zounds like you already haff someone in mind."

"Yeeaah. Well, last time I looked, he wasn't available. So—"

"Who iss it?"

"Not important!"

"Let me guess. Rumor hass it that Monkey Fist is permanently shtoned out of his gourd. Duff Killigan? Nein! He vont efen let anyvon caddy for him. Das Seniors? I hear that itt did not vork out zo vell for you de lazt time. DNAmy hass alvays been chelous off you. Motor Ed—I zee by the expression on your face dat you vould rather enter un convent! De others out there are chust jokes!" He stared at her. "Who am I missing?"

Shego banished the image of another, briefly blue villain from her mind and glared back. "Me, in another two minutes. Or less. So, unless you can offer me something that I really want but don't already have—"

"Kim Possible kneeling at your feet!"

The maybe-not-so-former villainess gripped the edges of the table in their booth and her gloves began to smoke.

"Tell me more…"

RSVP

Ron was zipping up his backpack when he suddenly had the distinct impression that something was terribly wrong.

There was a flash of light and it felt like the cosmos had turned inside-out for one, brief head-spinning, gut-churning moment.

It was as if The Universe had just given birth to it's own, nearly identical Twin.

And then, just as everything seemed to settle back into place...

The muscles twitched between his shoulder blades and could almost imagine hostile eyes glaring at him with malevolent intent. He whirled, dropping into a martial arts pose he had come to call "Spasmoid Monkey." He braced himself for the sight of Professor Dementor or Duff Killigan or (he repressed a shudder) even DNAmy coming through his bedroom door.

It was Kim.

"Hey, Kimilla…" He started to relax and then noted the expression on her face.

"Ron, we need to talk."

Maybe it would have been better if Dementor or Killigan or DNA—well, Dementor or Killigan, were there instead. The words, "we need to talk," had always struck a note of dread in his heart but today they were playing a whole series of chords.

Something was seriously wrong. It was in her voice, her posture, the narrowing of her eyes, the folded arms across her chest. And something more. He couldn't quite put his finger on it but an imaginary monkey started to scream in the jungle of his subconscious.

"I got your message," she said.

Ron was nowhere as clueless as he had once—well, at least had pretended—to have been. "I was coming to see you," he said. "I wanted to talk about this in person but I figured a little heads up was in order. I would never leave you a message and just…Bet—uh—Dr. Director, maybe…but I was coming to see you." He knew he was starting to babble but old habits are hard to break. "Thought we might catch up over at Bueno Nacho since it's not open to the public, yet. I still have my keys and the repairs are coming along—"

"We'll talk here, Ron. I'd just as soon not be seen in public with you."

"Wow, harsh much?" he quipped lightly.

In truth, Ron was surprisingly wounded by her words and her tone. Her anger, while under the influence of the moodulator chip, had been frightening and he had feared for his physical safety; but she had never spoken in way calculated to be emotionally vicious. That lone monkey, screeching in his hindbrain had just turned into a simian choir.

"This isn't working," she continued as if he hadn't spoken. As if she had rehearsed this speech for some time, now. "Back when we were young and nobody was paying attention, I could put up with your weirdness. I was tolerant of your incompetence—even though you constantly jeopardized our missions and put me in real danger!"

His mouth fell open in astonishment. It was like watching one of those badly dubbed Japanese movies where the words didn't seem to match the actors' mouths. She couldn't have possibly said what he just heard but she was the only other person in the room and her mouth was still moving.

"But I'm in the big leagues, now," she continued without seeming to take a breath. "And you're an embarrassment past bearing, now. Your manners, your eating habits, your vacuousness, your voice, your—your—you! Your Ron-ness doesn't fit my Kim-ness! You're holding me back, Ron! Even Global Justice wants us split up!"

"K-kim…" He could hardly get his own mouth to work. His eyes were blurring as well. "I-I don't under—I don't understand!"

"I know! That's just it!" she railed. "You don't understand! There's so much you don't understand! And so it's pointless to even try to explain it to you! It's just best if we end it right here and right now! You go off to Japan. And stay there. You like the East so much, why don't you just stay there. On the other side of the world. Settle down and marry your geisha-slut, Yori. Make a bunch of slant-eyed babies like your little, weirdo sister! And stay on the other side of the planet. I don't want you near me! I don't even want you on the same continent with me!"

The pain receded for a moment as Ron Stoppable was literally stunned into a numbed state by the torrent of hate and cruelty and vileness that was pouring out of his beloved. It was a nightmare that paralyzed his mind and froze his heart. He struggled to understand what he had done to upset her—what possible justification could excuse the racist invectives, the hostility that descended into flesh-crawling nastiness. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He couldn't think.

And then he realized...the girl he knew would never treat him like this!

Oh, sure, she could be a little harsh sometimes. She was so driven and perfection oriented that she could occasional snap at others. And that time she had accidentally locked him in the Janitor's closet all weekend...but that was a couple of years ago. She had mellowed since then. His Ron-ness had tamed her Kim-ness and she was much more aware of her own issues, now.

And...and...even if she really was mad at him, she would never talk this way to him or anyone else! That just wasn't Kim!

Which meant...this wasn't Kim!

"You-you're-a clone!" Ron yelled, pointing at the faux Kim. "Rufus! Get me some soda!"

As the naked mole rat leapt from the bed and started for the door, the fake Kim gave him a vicious kick!

Or tried to. Which again proved that this wasn't Ron's BF/BF: the real Kim Possible would never have missed her target.

Rufus leap into the air and grabbed a hold of the fake Kim's leg as it swung through the space he had just occupied.

Upset that someone would try to impersonate Kim and say such awful things-not to mention take his own head off-Rufus retaliated by sinking his extra-long, double-wide incisors into the intruder's calf as he held on for dear life.

Green goo spurted across the floor!

The Kim "clone" shrieked and began to sag.

"So...synthodrone..." Ron pondered as Rufus fled the spreading pool of goo across the bedroom floor. His eyes flashed blue. "I gotta make a phone call!" He turned to his little pink partner. "Can you stay here and clean things up, little buddy? I gotta jet!"

RSVP

Kim Possible awoke to darkness.

She didn't remember putting herself to bed. It took her a few moments to remember that she wasn't even in her own bed, in her own house. Both were gone, early casualties of the Lowardian assault.

She was exhausted these days. When she wasn't spending time helping her parents comb through the wreckage of their home for anything salvageable, she was helping the neighbors and leading search and rescue parties.

Of course, most of her time was taken up by Global Justice missions these days. No, scratch that: her life and Ron's had been co-opted by Betty Director's "To Do – Public Relations" list. This quasi-internship was less about acting as G.J probationary agents and more about becoming the one-eyed taskmistress' personal minions. Not that Ron seemed to mind so much...

Oh, the director had been quite persuasive in the beginning: "The world has suffered a massive psychological blow. People, families, towns, entire counties are suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome. Folks need a symbol to lift them out of their despair, ease the shock that there is intelligent life out there—and that it doesn't always wish us well. The world has a better chance of coming together if they can see how they were saved by just two teenagers coming together…"

Yeah, that "two teenagers" line had gone over real well with Shego and Drakken. Probably why they had disappeared just before the PR tours really got going. Just as well, though: she didn't like the way her green nemesis (ex-nemesis, she kept reminding herself) kept looking over at her man. Come to think of it, Betty Director had a similar look in her eye of late.

It was bad enough to think that millions of teenage girls might be crushing on her Ron because he was one of the "Fearless Four" that helped save the world. But when grown women—powerful and possessing a seasoned sensuality—were looking at him like he was a new flavor of ice cream…

Kim sighed. It was understandable. Her Ron was brave and loyal and talented and so un-ordinary. And even if he wasn't a fashion model hottie, any man who could single-handedly hurl giant aliens back into space, was bound to make any woman a little weak in the knees.

It was certainly keeping her off balance!

High school was behind them and they were entering a whole new world, now. Everything was changed or changing.

That was to be expected.

What surprised her were the changes that were taking place in the one constant in her life outside that of her family.

Throughout her life—ever since Pre-K—she had always led and Ron had always followed. This was new. A new Ron. She didn't really know this new person. A man—yes, man—who possessed frightening, new powers.

She had seen the old Ron go off the rails before: a new hairstyle had turned him into a self-absorbed, fashion monster—albeit temporarily. And the time he had turned into a giant, orange—don't think about it, don't think about it! And Zorpox the Conqueror: one of the most dangerous foes she'd ever faced…

…and that was without the ability to levitate and make Hego look like a 98 pound weakling.

What if the adulation of the world turned his ego monstrous again? What if this mystical blue glow got under his skin and rebooted the Big Z?

Or, most terrifying of all: what if he didn't need her anymore?

She was suddenly roused from her musings by the sound of a creaking floorboard.

"Alone at last."

The sound was unexpected but the voice was eerie beyond any imagining. Disembodied in the darkness. Almost familiar and yet strangely alien. She felt her skin erupt into gooseflesh.

A whole lotta gooseflesh!

Her mind was still befuddled from too little sleep and too much exhaustion. The absence of light didn't help. But it was dawning on her that she had stripped down to her panties and a cropped tee to sleep on top of the sheets in the summer heat. The cabin was remote, meaning no electricity and, therefore, no air conditioning.

For the moment she couldn't decide whether it was worse that the darkness hid her unknown visitor from her…

…or better that it hid her from voice's owner.

Somehow these two scraps of fabric left her feeling more naked and vulnerable than if she had slept in buff altogether.

"Who~o's there?" she asked, trying to squash the tremor in her voice.

"Now why am I not surprised?" The voice was amused and yet bitter. "You give a girl the best years of your life, you support her in every, self-centered, dumb-ass, and dangerous project she drags you along to…and then she hogs the credit when its long past time for you to be recognized for all of the sacrifices, risks, and unacknowledged successes that you've made."

"Who is this?"

"Oh, man! If those clues aren't enough to answer that question then you must fuck over a lot of people! Guess I'm not so unique after all."

"What do you want?"

The use of the f-word tweaked her but it frightened her, as well. None of her foes—even the ones that had come close to killing her—had ever assaulted her with such base vulgarities before. This was unknown territory for the teen and she felt a trickle of sweat collect between her ripening breasts and worm its way down her bare belly to collect in the whorled cup of her navel.

"What do I want, Kimberly?" The voice went from silkily contemplative to harsh and angry in a heartbeat. "I want what is due me! I want respect! And I want payback for the years of disregard, the humiliations, the thoughtless cruelties—"

"My parents will be back any time now," she interrupted. Her voice cracked a little this time.

"You better hope not." The voice was a whisper, now, but louder. As if the other's mouth was close to her ear. "They wouldn't be able to stop me. Your father, your brothers—quick and easy. Merciful, really: dead before they hit the ground. And then I could take my time. Two for the price of one…something to savor."

"W-what are you talking about?"

A hand brushed her breast, a quick caress through the thin fabric of her tee, and was gone before she could react.

"Your mother is an exquisite woman, Kimberly. A promise of everything you would ripen and grow up to be…if I were to let you live. Oh, the fantasies I've had with every visit to your house. The images crowding my mind when I sat at your dinner table. Do you know what I was really thinking when I said: "May I have some of your…pie…Mrs. Possible?"

She gasped and, for a moment, the emotional pain was so intense, that she thought he had driven a knife into her solar plexus. "Ronald?" she moaned.

And the thought crawled out from under her hind brain: No…Zorpox!

A hand locked onto her arm. Something hard and cold and metallic encircled her wrist. Her hand was pulled up and back and a ratcheting sound announced the closure of the other end of the handcuffs to the bedpost.

"And now your other arm, my sweet," the horrible voice oozed. "Then we can stop wasting time on engagements and weddings and skip straight to the honeymoon…"

She tried to strike at him but it only enabled him to catch her hand and clamp the second pair of handcuffs onto her other wrists. He was stronger and had the better position for leverage and she would have been done for except for an unexpected event.

A burst of green fire lit up the bedroom!

It hung there, in midair, illuminating a woman with long, dark hair and wearing a Global Justice uniform.

Her clenched fist was a black shadow at the center of the emerald blaze.

"Shego! H-help me!" Kim begged.

"In a moment, Kiddo," her former adversary growled. "Let's let Ron do his thing..."

"W-what?" Her head whipped around so she could stare at the dimly illuminated figure of Ron Stoppable, standing there in his mission clothes with an expression of consternation on his strangely sinister face. "But-but-he's going to-"

Shego shook her head. "Not him, Princess." She nodded to the darkness behind him. "The real one."

The Ron Stoppable before her just barely had begun to turn when he suddenly jerked as if hit by a massive seizure. His chest bulged and his shirt split as a goo-covered fist emerged from the place where a human heart should have been. Behind his drooping, sagging head, twin points of blue light blazed like glowing sapphires.

"Yuuu cannnnt beee hrrrrrrr," the synthodrone gasped as it deflated around the rock-steady forearm of the Chosen One.

"Yeah?" the real Ron Stoppable growled. "Note serious fist!"

RSVP

While Ron and Shego explained Mastermind's plot to a shaken Kim Possible, a small cosmic object was passing into the innermost boundaries of the Oort cloud, some 50,000 astronomical units from the center of the solar system.

Launched upon the destruction of the Lowardian invasion fleet, it had passed the orbit of Jupiter within a matter of days.

A week out, it slowed to navigate the Kuiper belt's great ring of ice debris and dwarf planets, some 30 AU out in the Trans-Neptunian region.

There it executed a fatal trajectory and was crushed between two colliding iron-nickel asteroids long before it could return to Lowardian space.

Author's/Notes 2:

Ah, if it had only gone this way in chapter 1 of my original story, I would have three years of my life back...

Riplakish13