#CACKLING IN THE DISTANCE. a lotta this one is from the original first draft and i just aldkfugh

[split-n-splice]

Dr. D’s offered to make dinner before when she was angry so this isn’t OOC of him, nopenopenope I outta make a new header soon

[Chapter Guide]

8. Distance – 1

Dr. Drakken wasn’t ready to give her the satisfaction of elaborating on how she’d disrupted him, but some amends were in order for his outburst in the garage. Reward for delivering an entire fully-operational jet loaded to the brim with exclusive tech would have to come later when he could think of something better.

For now, he swallowed his pride, tossed his jacket, and rolled up his sleeves.

He’d hit her. He couldn’t take back the fact, even if she’d laughed it off. He was lucky she hadn’t returned it on the spot, and she hadn’t exactly been shy to remind him so on the way up to the lab, feigning a punch that made him flinch before she burst out with mean laughter. If jets and towers and fame couldn’t please her, he doubted trivial favors like making her dinner would, but one had to start somewhere. It was all he could think of in a pinch at this time of night anyway.

While Shego took her sweet time with her post-mission shower, Dr. Drakken donned his apron and busied himself in the kitchen. He made note he’d have to stock it better, and soon, but he made do with what he had. It was pure luck he’d roughly planned out a meal in advance anyway when he’d gone shopping the other night for the ingredients needed for his devil’s food muffins.

Not a moment too soon, the superhuman thief dressed down to sweats and sweater strode into his living quarters without so much as a knock, as was the evening routine for her, and made a beeline for his couch with the intent of commandeering his television for the next while. He hastily tossed aside his splattered apron and couldn’t help throwing a nervous glance to the living room, paranoid he may have missed a scrap of evidence of his snooping.

Drakken cleared his throat to grab her attention before she could reach the couch. He caught her eye – she glared, he gulped – and she followed his glance and tiny nod to a plate of spaghetti he set down for her at the kitchen island. The fleeting thought crossed his mind that maybe it was time to invest in a regular dining table, but he pushed the thought aside before it could take root, the idea of dining with anyone regularly enough to need one ejected along with it.

The timer dinged behind him.

++X++

Shego cocked her brow at the man’s back as she approached cautiously, but he was busy slathering garlic-laced butter on crisped French bread.

She scrutinized the quick fixin’s on the platter before her. He needed work on his presentation, as the pasta was simply glopped on in a generous heap. But the smell was heavenly, she’d give him that. A glance to the empty cans and messy cutting board shoved aside on the counter indicated the sauce had been made from scratch, which left her just a little dubious. She hadn’t had spaghetti from scratch in more than four years. All the times she’d made the hasty dish for her family, the sauce had been premade from a can, and forget taking the time to shape meatballs. Furthermore, mushrooms and tomatoes had been banned from all meals to circumvent her baby brothers’ pickiness, and it was a relief not to see corn mixed with the noodles for a change. She’d be lying through her teeth if she said it didn’t make her mouth water.

Yet no matter how famished she was, she wasn’t gullible enough to tuck into the offering just like that. She stood a step back from the counter as the blue man turned with a hot slice of garlic bread balanced on a spatula to slip onto the edge of her untouched plate. He kept his eyes downcast while hers narrowed on him.

Shego broke first. “You cook?” she asked incredulously, although she was lured that much closer by the warm garlic bread.

“Occasionally,” mumbled Drakken without so much as a glance back at her as he served himself practically one noodle at a time. “It’s good to take a break from the lab sometimes.”

Sometimes. That was laughable. Once in a blue moon, maybe. Given how dusty his cookware had become, it was hard to believe he was the sort of man to know how to cook for himself at all. Come to think of it, she was a little surprised he hadn’t asked her to yet. It was a woman’s job after all, according her household, though she’d only done the chore because letting anyone else take over meant a bigger mess to clean or having her allowance cut.

As Shego watched the steam rise from the food, still straining to resist the temptation, she couldn’t help noticing another underlying smell hovering in the stagnant air over the permeating aroma of garlic and spice. It didn’t smell like it belonged in an evil man’s lair, but it backed up his claim nonetheless.

“No wonder it smells cakey in here,” she muttered with a light scoff. She didn’t have to see his face to know he was blushing. The tips of his ears gave it away. No wonder he was stalling.

“Muffins, actually,” he more or less squeaked, and had to clear his throat. “I’m burned out on them, so help yourself. They’re in the fridge.” He spooned some pasta back into the pan, still hesitant to face her.

Shego perched on a barstool and poked at the food suspiciously with the fork he’d left her. She almost hoped it would poke back to distract her from the awkward vibe hovering in the air thicker than the warm aromas of her boss’s cooking. “Alright, chief,” she sighed. “You’re acting like a baby. Man up. What was with that tantrum back there?”

His back still to her as he hovered over the stove, Drakken paused with noodles halfway to his mouth. He almost looked back at her, but shook his head instead. “You should have called,” he stated, and quickly busied himself with chewing.

Shego shrugged and apologized dryly, “Sorry. I was busy.”

She slouched over the counter, pushing a meatball around with her fork. She studied her plate with growing apprehension, even as delicious as it looked. This was the first time she’d seen any indication of the man having culinary skills. He might have been stuffing his face with noodles from his own plate now, but so soon after his outburst in the garage, Shego couldn’t shake the distrust. This was all too convenient. She looked closely at the pasta, but if it was laced with anything special, she couldn’t tell it apart from the parmesan or seasonings.

She waited another moment until Dr. Drakken finally braved turning around to lean against the far counter, though he still kept his eyes deliberately down on his own plate. She studied him carefully for a reaction that could justify her misgivings as she asked bluntly, “This isn’t poisoned, is it?”

The sulky mad scientist grimaced and shot a quick frown up at her. “It’s dinner,” he clarified curtly. “Bon appétit.”

Shego wasn’t convinced. She hummed skeptically and beckoned him with a finger. The shifty man hesitated a moment before pulling up a stool to sit across from her like a civilized host, though he frowned in her direction as she twirled noodles around her fork.

Drakken lurched backwards when she held it up to him suddenly, nodding in silent answer when he stared back at her in questioning. He opened his mouth as if to argue that he wasn’t trying to poison her – but she took the opportunity to forcefully give him the first bite from her plate just in case. He almost spat it out in reflex, but must have thought better of it as she fixed him in a dangerous glare.

She waited until he’d swallowed before wiping her fork clean on a napkin and accepting the meal.

Offended, he snorted and grumbled half to himself, “My cooking isn’t that bad.”

“I get food poisoning just looking in your fridge,” she shot back under her breath. She didn’t trust the meatballs either. They could have easily been tampered with. For good measure, she rolled a few of his onto her plate in exchange for hers. The trade-off earned her a deep frown and an indignant huff, but he didn’t voice complaint as he grouchily ate his sauce-slathered meal. At least the garlic bread she could be confident about.

Shego took only a couple cautious bites before dropping her fork. She really couldn’t let him off the hook so easy. Not without a better apology than spaghetti, and not until he quit pouting.

“So. You threw a fit all because I didn’t check in like a good little girl. Is that it?” she shot over, flicking a glower up at him, but he continued to sheepishly avoid looking up. Shego mirrored his frown for a long moment before shrugging meekly to herself and shaking her head with exasperated sigh as she accepted the length of the metaphorical leash. If he had a leash on her at all, her little stint had proven she could yank it out of his hands whenever she wanted. “But you didn’t call to nag me, so…thanks for that.”

“I was tempted,” he admitted tersely, stabbing mercilessly at a meatball.

“And that’s fine. What matters is you didn’t.”

The man must have lost his appetite, because he set his fork down to chew instead on something verbal. “You had my car, so don’t sound so smug,” he groused, flashing a glare up at her at last. He folded his hands under his chin and frowned back down again. “You’re free to come and go as you please. If I have to beg and bribe for your alliance, then your heart wouldn’t be in it, and frankly I doubt you’d work as efficiently if I forced you to be here against your will. I’m sure you’ve had your fill of that anyway. I suppose you’ve been due for some freedom.”

It took Shego a moment to digest before quipping, “Are you talking to me, or your plate?” to which Dr. Drakken flicked his scowl up at her for a split second before his dark tired eyes darted away again. Nonetheless, she nodded and gave a small hum in agreement. The freedom she had now was more than her family and team had ever granted her. A villain shouldn’t have been the one to give her that though.

++X++

Another moment under her watchful stare, and Dr. Drakken finally lost his cool, the girl on the other side of the kitchen island recoiling back from him. All the grief his company’s absence had given him over the past few days resurfaced again, and for the first time in ages, there was someone besides himself to hear it.

“I missed you,” he blurted accusingly, and the slip tasted vile on his tongue. He slammed his fist on the counter in frustration. She’d gotten his goat, that was certain. He almost wished that would be enough to satisfy her, almost wished she would laugh and flip her hair and leave him to stew now – but instead she sat back and stared. Why he was compelled to answer that stare was beyond his understanding. “You had me so damn worried, Shego.” He clapped a hand over his mouth and bit his cheek.

The watchful superhuman before him offered nothing more than her jaded gaze and a listening ear. Drakken clammed up for a moment, shamefaced that he’d cracked. But she was waiting.

His hands flailed as he rambled in a rush to explain before he could think better of it. “I hardly know you,” he snapped at her. “How was I to know if you were really going to be come back, or if you’d just run off for good, or if you were backstabbing me? And when you didn’t call, I didn’t know if you’d been caught, and I was—hhnng!” He groaned. He was worried for what it spelled for him, sure, but he’d never been worried for anyone else before – at least not in a long while. And he had been worried for her, at least a little bit. That was as bad as missing the nuisance that loitered idly in his lab every day of the past two weeks.

Drakken hung his head and wanted to pull his hair out. He had to come up with a more professional way of dealing with this woman, because this just wouldn’t do. Henchmen were easy. Henchmen stayed down below, out of sight, out of mind, until he needed them.

Shego stared at him for a moment longer before tentatively offering, “I’m…sorry?”

The halfhearted apology made him snort. “No, I’m sorry,” he grumbled, still gripping his hair. Her quizzical stare was impossible to ignore, and he made the mistake of glancing up at it. He swallowed as something danced to life among his entrails. Something warm. It was almost sickening, and it certainly didn’t belong there after he’d sworn off it years ago. “I’ve given up on making friends, but I thought you – I mean – it just pissed me off, alright? I wasn’t sure if I’d been played for a fool or if I’d done something wrong – I-I shouldn’t have lost my temper – but you can’t blame me. You left me out of sorts.” Drakken clamped his mouth shut again before he could dig at himself any deeper. She had to be loving his suffering. Another glance up revealed that maybe he was wrong.

Shego shifted, her eyes dropping finally as she loaded pasta onto her slice of garlic bread. She smirked and gave a small laugh, quiet and unsure. “Your henchmen don’t count as friends?” she asked quizzically.

“Not a snowball’s chance in hell,” Drakken sighed miserably. They were hired manpower. The henchmen palled around among each other. Not so much with him. They didn’t fill the social void by any means. Drakken frowned back down to his food with a shake of his head. “I don’t need lackeys who resent me. I merely try to stay on okay terms with them so they don’t quit, or worse – turn mutinous.”

“And you think I won’t?” Shego scoffed, not even trying to mask the note of amusement. It shouldn’t have stung. She hardly qualified as a friend anymore than the henchmen did.

“I should hope not,” Drakken grumbled. “This has all been quite the trying trust exercise, I’ll have you know. I’m not a trusting person, but risks I’ll take.”

Shego hummed and muttered, “Ditto.” It seemed she was ready to let the subject of how adversely she’d affected the blue loner blow over. She went back to eating quietly.

Her plate was half-cleared when she hummed again for his attention. “Hey, Doc?” He glanced up to see her waving her fork at him, but thankfully not to shove in his face again. “If you ever do amount some big-shot world-dictator, what’ll that make me? The number one receptionist in the world? ‘Cause I’ll tell ya what, that ain’t gonna fly. It’s gonna have to be something pretty good if you don’t want me to kick your butt off your high horse.”

Well, at least she was getting that out in the open now rather than surprising him later down the road.

His face went slack as he chewed slowly, giving it a moment of thought. He peeked up to her still watching him, waiting for a reply. It was a serious question, he realized, and maybe a serious threat of premeditated mutiny. If he was the subject of a long con, so be it. He’d cross that bridge when he got there.

For now, Drakken shrugged. “I suppose you would be a fearsome partner in crime,” he jibbed carefully. He flapped a hand as he threw out ideas, “I’d probably have you overseeing torture of defiant rebels, commanding armies of mass chaos, living in the lap of luxury in some penthouse somewhere – the works.” Her devious snicker was contagious, and he found himself smiling along with her.

There was that bloom in his gut again. He shut it down quick and poked at his food.

“Those are some pretty sweet lies, Dr. D,” noted his dinner guest, shaking her head though still smirking even as his faltered. “But this could be fun. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us if you’re going to make you any sort of king.”

“You bet we do,” he agreed, and popped an entire meatball in his mouth so he wouldn’t have to speak for a while.

Which, regrettably, he wound up choking on. He was given a heavy thump on the back and handed a glass of water. It was hard to be thankful when the fearsome partner in crime chortled at his plight. Heartless partner, more like. He found it impossible to look her in the eye again for some time after.

He couldn’t be sure if dinner was unnecessary in smoothing out whatever disruption he’d caused with the whole garage incident, but she seemed in a better mood than when she’d come skulking in at least. It could be justified anyway, since he was past due for decent meal, but just seeing her go for a second slice of garlic bread almost made it worthwhile. He wasn’t entirely convinced she’d forgiven him, though he hoped she had. He still wouldn’t put it past her to return the gesture eventually, only her strike was bound to hurt far worse than the brash swipe he’d taken at her.

Normally, Drakken avoided lingering in the living room when she was there, but her cagey glances had lessened, and she was flashing wry little smiles now, and sharing with him an account her little stint back in Go City. It was hard not to settle into his recliner while she tucked herself into a nearest corner of the couch to give her report. She promised she’d removed the license plates before leading police on a chase so they couldn’t trace it to him, and that was fine and all, but an offhanded mumble of praise when she bit into a glazed devil’s food muffin must have been the highlight of his evening. It was a close second to receiving a jet anyway.

When she fell asleep stretched across his couch ten minutes into a new episode of Space Passage, Drakken didn’t have it in him to wake her to make her go back to her own room like a decent human being. She’d just driven all the way to the opposite coast and hijacked a jet all on her own. She deserved some undisturbed rest. He suspected she’d get up after a catnap and mosey off anyway.

Come morning, Drakken had just about forgotten she’d crashed in front of the TV, which was still on, and his initial response was surprise and discomfort of finding someone asleep in his own apartment-esque personal living space. The shock subsided, and he was left with the confliction of realizing how inexplicably nice it was for her of all people to be the last person he saw before he went to bed and the first person when he rose. He supposed he might like the sight of any pretty girl crashing on his couch though, even if she was a little less than lovely with disheveled hair and rumpled grey sweats and sweater from last night.

Drakken pulled his robe tighter, wondering if he ought to change into something more respectable than fleece, but the next order of business on his daily agenda was a stronger pull. He set the coffee to brew and hurried back to his room to dress for good measure, finding himself standing in his closet for a minute too long before scoffing to himself for pausing to consider his appearance. His day was destined to be spent overseeing henchmen in the garage, so he grabbed anything that wouldn’t cost much to replace if ruined, even if it was less than professional. The impulse to stop in front of a mirror to wonder if a black crew-neck was too loose on him was resisted as he hurried out, stuffing his shirt into the waist of his trousers.

He didn’t mean to slam his bedroom door in his own aggravation, and he winced, eyes daring to the couch, and breathed a sigh of relief to find Shego hadn’t stirred.

While Drakken busied himself in the kitchen again, taking her into account and making extra flapjacks to err on the side of caution, he had to wonder if the snake asleep on his couch knew how alarmingly fast she was getting to him with wry smiles and little touches and snarky quips, or if she was only playing him to pass the time. He had to wonder as well if he’d ever shake the ingrained fear of the latter. Whatever the case, letting himself play right into her hands was not an option, especially not when her hands were dangerous.

From the corner of his eye, he watched as the young woman groggily sat up, groaning about bright lights. Her hair fell in a frazzled mess around her shoulders, face scrunched in displeasure to be awake. She didn’t seem nearly as surprised to be here as he’d been to find her. He tried not to glance her way as she leaned over the back of the couch for a while, yawning and rubbing sleep from her eyes.

By her glower, Drakken had to assume she was in a crabby mood. By now, that was decidedly pretty normal for her. “Good morning, sunshine,” he chimed wryly from the kitchen.

++X++

Growling out a curt, “Shaddup,” Shego flipped him the bird before hefting herself up from the soft corduroy cushions.

She slumped into the kitchen a moment later, drawn in by the smell of coffee, and had to stop herself from reaching for another muffin and grab the creamer instead. She couldn’t help noticing his fridge was actually immaculately clean for a change. She’d expected him to fill it with beakers of questionable contents again over her weekend absence.

Once she had her mug, she was ready to leave to nurse a headache in the privacy of her own bedroom, but the blue man tending the stove beside her slid a plate of pancakes over in front of her before she could go anywhere. She weighed the options of leaving it, taking it, or sticking around. She decided she’d spent too much time too close to Dr. Drakken already since last night – they’d chatted and watched television and laughed and that in itself was enough to make her shudder now – so she sheepishly took the offering and retreated to her room without so much as a thank you. She felt a little bad for it too, because they might have been the best damn blueberry pancakes she’d ever had.

As per usual, she would forget about the dirty plate on her dresser until the shame caught up to her and she’d sneak it all the way back to the kitchen, but that wouldn’t be today.

Today, she loitered in the garage with Drakken and his goons. The remaining henchmen were the ones he’d brought with him to Go City, the same three stooges she’d pummeled in the geek lab. Claiming they were his best had clearly been a shoddy attempt to talk them up. It was almost disappointing the young fellow she’d had her eye on was stationed elsewhere on guard duty, but she suspected it was by his own choice. Any of the subordinates taking a shine to her was explicitly frowned upon after all, but she decided she wasn’t missing out on much. She could save mingling with the guys for the next time she felt like getting Dr. Drakken out of sorts.

For the better half of the day, Shego took the opportunity to soak up the autumn sunlight spilling in from the gaping garage door, basking on the warm concrete with her arms folded behind her head. At one point, she heard a goon utter concerns to Drakken, and Drakken shouted irritably, asking if she’d fainted, then barked at her to quit lazing about. He was answered with an obstinate middle finger, and Shego smirked to herself when it was the henchmen to take the heat for it.

She only got up off the floor when he actually gave her something to do, even if it was a trivial gofer run.

At the grumpy man’s command, she grudgingly fetched his leather notebook from the kitchen, and idly flipped through it as she strode back across the hangar to Drakken. It was a fairly new pad, bound in leather, and there wasn’t much in it yet. Besides the notes on the power staves, her gloves, and a grocery list, she recognized a distinct feminine figure buried among jumbles of important-looking formulas that probably should have been jotted down somewhere better than a little pocket notepad.

She brandished the open book and teasingly cocked her brow at Dr. Drakken when he saw what page she was turned to. His face flushed that peculiar shade of purple again. Maybe she was pushing it when she held the notebook out of his reach and mockingly asked, “So the robo tits are cosmetic, huh?” There wasn’t much to ogle at in the chest department on the androids, but it was still an opportunity to mock.

The man echoed her in a stuffy nagging tone with curled lip, and tried again to take back his notebook. He didn’t justify his reasoning behind the bots’ chests, barely a step up from flat, but she supposed it would have been more off-putting if she didn’t know already that their entire exoskeletons were made of steel. She could worry for him when he started trying to manufacture synthetic flesh.

Shego snickered nonetheless, giving Dr. Drakken a moment of difficulty as she danced around him before he caught her arm and she surrendered the notepad.

She stepped back from the grumbling blushing man in favor of admiring the spoils of her treason. She scrutinized the beautiful family jet being meticulously dismantled just so Drakken could analyze its inner workings. Earlier, she’d tried explaining a little about it, but he’d brushed her off saying he wanted it to be a surprise. He was as giddy as a boy on Christmas enthralled by a new puzzle to solve, so she took it as no disrespect and decided to let him have his fun. She just hoped she hadn’t stolen the valuable plane for it to wind up a hunk of junk like all the others in his scrappy little warehouse.

She was about to ask what his plans with it even were when a small unfamiliar vibration low on her leg gave her a start. She stared dumbly down at her utility pouch for a second before snapping it open and digging out a compact wireless phone, the likes of which she swore she’d only seen Global Justice agents and other elite individuals use.

Curious glances were thrown her way, and she turned her back to them.

Up until yesterday, Dr. Drakken had been the only one with the number. He’d been the one to give it to her not long after moving in, proudly taking credit for the design until she’d called him a copycat. She of course had no one to ring up since they were a little too far out for pizza delivery, so she hadn’t had a reason to use it. She’d almost forgotten she’d stopped by a couple of acquaintances in Go City yesterday, one of which she’d mistakenly given the number to. The caller ID brought a smile to her face nonetheless, though she knew better than to hope the girl was calling for a friendly chat.

Shilo ran a hand over her face as she picked up, as if doing so would wipe away the mask of Shego.

“Alex, baby, talk to me,” she chirped, ignoring the pang in her chest at the longing for a familiar voice. She would never go as far as to call the former-classmate a friend, but the delinquent was a reliable dealer who knew how to keep her mouth shut if one had the cash. And Shilo had certainly had the cash when she’d paid Go City a visit. It was almost certain the girl was still looking to take advantage of that.

“Hey, hon,” sang the junkie, sounding peculiarly sober. Her voice quavered, a nervous tell. “How’s life on the lam treating you?”

Just like that, Shilo wasn’t so happy to hear the acquaintance. She tensed, drawing her conclusion fast. The miscreant was known for being as carefree and bold as could be. Nothing made that laidback gal anxious except for Shilo’s intimidating up-tight goody-two-shoes big brother Hugo who’d nearly ratted her out on several occasions.

She barely had it in her to put some pep back into her tone to disguise her suspicions, answering quickly, “It’s great.” She found herself fidgeting, twirling a lock of hair around her finger.

Alex cut to the point, the absence of idle chitchat and musings raising another red flag. “I was thinking it would be cool if you could come hang out sometime,” she went on. “Or maybe we could – I could take a road trip to come see your new digs.” More red flags. The dealer wasn’t known for prying into the lives of her clientele, her only interest was in their money, and never would she offer to go out of her way for anything. She was too lazy to be that social. If one wanted the goods, they had to come to her, and bring exact change.

“I can hang tonight,” Shilo lied confidently anyway, a wry smirk quirking her lips. “Seven, behind the SM?”

“That sounds….yeah, that sounds great. So anyway, um, I wanted to tell you about—”

“Sorry, I’m sorta busy. Catch you later.” She didn’t want to seem too hasty, but she didn’t want to give what remained of Team Go a chance to work any techno-geekery magic to track her down. But the opportunity to make her big brother feel like a sucker was too great, and she smiled at the notion of what he’d look like tonight when he realized his stakeout behind a shopping center was a bust.

To be on the safe side, Shego incinerated the mobile phone. Dr. Drakken would just have to make or buy her a new one if it was that important, but she’d undoubtedly screwed up by giving out the number. Even if the lost signal might prevent them from pinpointing her exact location, they still had the area code now.

“You’re going to have to walk or ask politely,” came Dr. Drakken’s displeased warning, and she spun around to stare at him with a raised brow. He had his notebook open, tapping his pen on his chin in between scribbling in it. “I’m not driving you,” he explained. “And if you want to stay here, you are not stealing another car for something as frivolous as a date. You’re paid to steal for me, not from me, Shego.”

“Oh,” she uttered, and shook her head. “Yeah, no. That was…” Her lying mojo dissolved when Dr. Drakken’s eyes narrowed as he fixed a probing gaze on her. Shego sighed wretchedly as she crossed her arms. Honesty was in her best interest in this case, even if it was hard to suck it up and spit out her honest guess, “I don’t think my brothers are going to just let this one slide.” She nodded to the jet, half-skinned now and a wing disconnected. “They’re going to try even harder to find me. They just can’t keep their noses out of my business.”

To be fair, stealing a jet was crossing the line, but she couldn’t stop the resentment from rising like bile anyway.

The leather-bound notebook snapped shut with a tiny clap that made her jump. Dr. Drakken hummed in grim contemplation as he stalked toward her. “That would not be ideal,” he said, and turned a sharp scowl back at his two henchmen standing beside the open belly of the aircraft, nervously awaiting orders. “Lux!” he barked, and the pudgier of the two straightened up.

“Y-yes, sir?”

“Is your in-law still hiring?”

If remembering his name was surprising, then retaining any extra information about him was. The poor man was so stupefied, he didn’t know how to answer, so he gaped like a fish for a moment before shrugging and then quickly nodding unconvincingly.

Dr. Drakken barked an order for Shego to get changed and went straight for the dingy utility van, and she braced for an earful as he hauled her across town. Over the ride, his mumbles and grumbles gave away the course of action he was devising and reviewing, and though Shego had her qualms with it, she felt it unwise to argue just yet. She’d humor him, for now, but time would tell whether she actually went along with it. She really had half a mind not to. She didn’t like the picture his mutterings painted, but at least it didn’t sound like he planned to get rid of her entirely.

They were stopped at a light on Main Street when he finally spoke up, running it by her at last. “No one can blame you for wanting strike out to lead a commendable average life,” he explained. “Going back to school to pretend you’ve gone straight-laced would make a good cover. For now you’ll lay off any risky criminal activity until they’re satisfied. In any case, it won’t hurt you to have something to fall back on if this venture doesn’t work out. It’ll be good for you.”

Despite his worked-up nerves, she was sure she caught him flick an almost sad glance her way. The night they’d arrived in Nevada, he’d asked her if she regretted coming with him, but something about that look had her wondering now if he was the one having second thoughts.

“Careful, Dr. D,” Shego groused tartly. “Being considerate of others isn’t very befitting of a man who prides himself in evil.”

He stared at her for a second more before the traffic light turned green and his gaze hardened into a frown at the road. “My motives are selfish, I assure you,” said Dr. Drakken, gripping the wheel tighter and gnashing his teeth as if to bite back a more severe retort. “I am established here. I have to protect myself. Besides, you’ll go stir crazy if I ask you to hole yourself up, and letting you lead the hounds to my door would mean a substantial setback I can’t afford yet. I think it’s best you stay away for a while. I’ll still call on you if I need you.”

Shego studied him for a moment longer before sighing in reluctant resignation. That he considered her future without him, and maybe even her wellbeing in the present – it struck a chord, and not one that sounded right. She scoffed to make light of it though. “Are you sure you aren’t going soft?” she quipped. “Seems a little like you regret hiring me.”

He flicked a scowl at her, but then his gaze dropped, and that fleeting hint of remorse again was all the evidence she needed.

“Ignore my brothers,” Shego snapped hotly. “I’ll deal with them if they come. There’s no reason to send me away.” She wanted to believe that, but how could she convince him if she couldn’t convince herself? His henchmen wore Hench Co brand uniforms for Pete’s sake. There was no playing innocent if Team Go or worse stormed the lair.

“Just do this for me to pacify your family, Shego, please,” Drakken all but begged. “I don’t want to lose you, but if you present yourself in the open, then when they do find you, they’ll see you’re doing alright for yourself. You need to make it look like you’re not up to anything sketchy.” His brow knit and his hands tightened on the wheel again. “And if they still try to take you, I’ll disintegrate them or something.”

Shego hoped he was only joking. She really couldn’t tell. “I don’t want them dead.”

“Fine, then,” Drakken snorted. “I’ll hit them with a stun gun. Better?”

Propping her elbow up on the open window, Shego leaned her cheek on her fist and rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Just what makes you think you can make me go back to school anyway?” she shot drably. The thought of going back to any sort of institution didn’t agree with her.

“What, would you rather spend all your free time keeping my chair warm?”

She frowned. It shouldn’t have made her face warm over, but maybe he had a point. Maybe it would be good for her to get out and have a life. She liked the relative peace as of late, but being a recluse and cooped up with him all the time didn’t suit her well either. She needed her fresh air sometimes. It wasn’t like she was very busy anyway.

“We’ll worry about college later,” Drakken added in a pensive mumble. “Think it’s a bit late anyway.”

She was relieved for that slack, but she still hoped this ruse wouldn’t last that long. College was a big commitment, but so was tagging along with him. Shego groaned anyway and shook her head. “What do you expect me to do in the meantime?”