Chapter Text
If she’d had a choice, Kim wasn’t sure if she would’ve asked for a soulmate. Her parents said that it was a gift. A blessing. And the word had a nice ring to it — like something out of a fairy tale, two people who were destined to be together, who would change each other’s lives forever.
“You’re lucky,” Ron told her after his crush insulted him three times in one day. “You’ll never get turned down. You’ll always know, Kim.”
Kim paid for his Bueno Nacho, and didn’t tell him that she was debating going on a date, just once. Just to know. Because a soulmate felt a little too close to punishment, some days. When her friends giggled about kisses and crushes and first dates, she felt unbearably, achingly alone, like her entire body knew what was missing. Like she could never quite be happy, like she was compensating for something she’d never had.
And there were the colors. Ron’s favorite was red. Monique’s was purple. But for Kim, there had only ever been one. Her parents told her it was called green. The sky was a color called blue. In the fall, when the leaves stopped being green, they became red and orange and yellow. Her hair was orange, but everyone called it red. When she looked in the mirror, she didn’t see her red-orange hair, just green eyes and pale skin and gray clothes with colors carefully stitched into the tags. It was comforting, at least, to know that her soulmate would see the same thing. Green, for the color of each other’s eyes.
When Ron called her lucky, she smiled, because a soulmate was a blessing. No matter how long she waited — no matter how long she spent in this monochrome world, no matter how many years she was alone — she would never chase someone who didn’t want her. Her heart would never break.
And one day, she would see the sky. She would watch the leaves change color in the fall, and she would have the perfect person to share them with.
Shego hated the way that people talked about soulmates. They said that soulmates were perfect matches. They fit together. They complemented each other.
Shego hadn’t asked for a perfect other half. She hadn’t asked for someone to complete her. She just wanted to be normal; she wanted to be whole. She hated her soulmate for existing, for making her incomplete, for trapping her in this stupid black and white and green world. She wanted more. She wanted colors. She wanted a choice.
Her brothers made a game of it — “Can you grab the red plate for me?” “Did you copy my clothes on purpose?” — because of course, none of those idiots was cursed with a soulmate. They were already normal. Already whole.
She was only ten when she was sent to her first Soulmate Speed-Dating — an impressive, painful euphemism for rooms full of nerves and anticipation and sweaty palms, passing her hand from one boy to another until they were all sent home. But the tension wasn’t the worst part. It wasn’t the sweaty hands or the mind-numbing boredom. It was the horrible, aching fear that one of those boys would make the world light up, that he would smile and laugh and everyone would cheer and she would be forced to spend her life with him. But she couldn’t say that; she could only brush hands with the other girls and hope. Not because she wanted a soulmate, but because she wanted the colors. She wanted to stop shaking hands with teenage boys. She wanted to tell her soulmate to rot in hell.
Her parents let her stop after the comet, and she should’ve been grateful, but mostly, she was just exhausted. Her parents had given up, because they also knew the truth: none of the boys would want to shake her hand, and none of the girls would want to touch her. It didn’t matter if she had a soulmate out there. They would never come enough to touch. They would see her all-green body, call her a freak, and walk away.
Kim didn’t exactly plan on becoming a hero. She already had a plan, to join the cheer team and go to college and get a job that would make her parents proud — maybe a rocket scientist, or a neurosurgeon, or something entirely her own. She would find her soulmate; their eyes would meet across a room, and they would know, even before they touched. She would bring them home for Christmas, and they would ooh and ahh over the sparkling lights. Maybe they’d have kids. Maybe a cat.
Then Ron ran into cheer tryouts, screaming “danger major,” and her normal, peaceful plan fell apart.
She didn’t expect to enjoy it, but her parents had raised her to be kind — to help when she could, and fight for what was right. She wasn’t in it for the attention, but well, she was only human. She faced off against Killigan with his exploding golf balls and the Seniors with their spinning tops of doom and Shego with her plasma, and against all odds, they came out on top most days. So the recognition felt nice.
Then a teen magazine asked for her favorite color, crammed between questions about her worst enemy and her favorite clothing store, and Bonnie chimed in with, “Didn’t you know? Kim can’t see color. She’s waiting for her soulmate.”
Bonnie made the word sound like an insult, and Kim remembered crying in bed at eight years old, missing someone she didn’t know. The first time that Ron had called her lucky. Every time that Bonnie had made her feel small, and the look in her eyes when Brick had chosen someone else.
A soulmate wasn’t an insult, and it wasn’t a punishment. It was a gift. It was certainty. It was safety. “There’s no need to be jealous, B.”
Shego didn’t plan on being a criminal. But she also didn’t plan to get hit by a comet or become a hero or have a soulmate, so the universe was clearly giving a giant ‘fuck you’ to anything she could’ve asked for. The stealing was wrong, and yes, it was dangerous, but it was thrilling and steady and certain. But she’d chosen it.
She hadn’t chosen the comet or the soulmate or Team Go, but this, finally, was her choice. Legal or not, it was hers.
Drakken’s offer was unexpected, but he was good for a laugh and a paycheck. And if his henchmen were all men — well, Shego hadn’t taken this gig to find a soulmate. The only woman she ever saw was little Miss Priss, and even the thought of that made her laugh. Kim was perfect and shiny and kind and everything that her soulmate wouldn’t be. Besides, it had been years since Shego had wondered about the color of the sky. She wasn’t going to spend her life waiting on a stranger. She was complete. She was whole. She ran her own life, and she didn’t need a fucking soulmate.
Kim knew it wasn’t strange to be alone at twenty-five, but there were still days when the loneliness was almost crushing. Monique was about to hit her three year anniversary. Ron was proposing to Yori on Christmas — to make her laugh, because neither of them was Christian — and they were so perfect that Kim wondered if soulmates really mattered. Even Tara had finally found hers, and Kim just wanted to see the sky. It was fall, and she couldn’t name the colors of the leaves.
On the day that Tara found her soulmate, the same day that Ron told her about the ring, Kim almost cried. She just wanted to be loved. She wanted to belong, even if it was just for a night, even if it wasn’t real.
She thought about Monique, who was painfully, unfailingly positive, who always belonged, who owned every room she entered. Monique would tell her to get out of her apartment. To get out of her head, to be with people, even if they didn’t matter. So Kim ignored all of her fears and found the nearest club, a place where she could fade into a group of strangers. Just once. Just for the night.
She wore a black dress, shorter than anything she owned, shorter than she would’ve chosen for herself, and wondered if this was a mistake. Girl, are you just going to sit there feeling sorry for yourself all night? She wanted to. She could.
She left her apartment and locked the door.
Shego knew she wouldn’t find her soulmate at a club. That was part of the appeal — part of the escape. Even if she wasted her nights on strangers’ bodies, she would never find her soulmate like this. They would be better than her. They would be solid. Stable. They would ground her when she tried to lose herself.
But strangers were safe. She met women who didn’t matter, whose eyes were flat and gray and meaningless, whose bodies were equally gray and meaningless, and she followed them home. Or into bathroom stalls, or sometimes cars, and it was stupid and pointless, but it felt good. Sometimes, if she closed her eyes, it felt real.
Even if she was comfortable in clubs, she was not used to seeing Kim fucking Possible lurking around one. Maybe Shego didn’t need a warm body tonight; maybe she could fuck with Kim, and maybe it would feel just as real.
“Don’t you clean up nice?” she drawled, and Kim whirled around, slipping into a fighting stance in a single breath.
“Shego! What are you doing here?”
“Same thing as you, Princess. Having a good time.” Kim eyed her suspiciously, and Shego sighed. “You need to get that stick out of your ass. Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.” She didn’t wait for an answer; the offer was just shy of a challenge, and Kim was too proud to turn her down. And sure enough, by the time Shego ordered drinks, Kim was hovering awkwardly at her side, looking around like the air itself was a threat. It was delicious.
Shego held out a drink, and Kim took it like it was poison, careful not to let their fingers touch. But when Shego took a sip, never looking away, Kim didn’t hesitate to drink too. “I meant what I said, Cupcake. You look good tonight.”
Kim’s cheeks darkened, the telltale sign that she was blushing. Shego hadn’t seen her outside of a lair in years — not since three months after the invasion, when the world had fixed itself enough to throw a party — and Kim had still been a teenager. Barely eighteen, practically a child, and she’d looked at Shego with a mix of fear and threat and careful hope. Two years later, Shego had thrown that hope away, and their fights still felt the same. Kim’s mission clothes hadn’t changed. She used the same gadgets. The same Nerdlinger told her what to do.
But now, far away from any lair or lab or experiment, Kim didn’t look like a teenager. She looked good. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, and her dress was a tight little thing, just a little shorter than Shego would’ve expected from her. A dark color, and the combination of eyeliner with Kim’s green eyes was striking. She looked — god, she looked like the type of woman that Shego would talk to at a club, the type she would dance with and fuck and forget. Except for those green eyes. Except that Kim was the last person she could ever forget.
“You do too,” Kim mumbled into her glass, and it took two more drinks for her to say, “You should dress like this more often.”
“Why? See something you’re interested in?”
“Your skin is such a pretty color. You shouldn’t hide it.”
“My skin is green,” she countered, because Kim couldn’t see it. Because Kim was just as blind as her, but in a different color.
But Kim smiled, tipsy and guileless, and said, “I know. It’s pretty.”
Shego couldn’t remember the last time she’d been speechless. She always had a retort on hand, especially with Kim, but Kim had just called her skin pretty.
The first time Shego had looked in the mirror after the comet, she’d passed out cold. She hadn’t imagined that anyone would see it and think anything but freak and flaw.
And she suddenly wanted to take Kim home. Not like her normal hookups, because none of them had ever walked into her house. But Kim was different. Kim thought her skin was pretty. Shego wanted to be there, in her home, and have someone look at every inch of her body and call her beautiful. Not hot, not sexy, not the words gasped into her ear on dance floors or in beds. Just pretty. Just beautiful. It felt like a dream, and she could feel her heart racing against her sternum, in her throat, on the tip of her tongue.
It's pretty.
The words buzzed through her veins, stronger than any drink, and she held out her hand. “Wanna dance, Kim?”
Kim had barely stepped into the club when she decided to leave. She wanted an escape, but she didn’t know how to act or where to go; she didn’t know how to belong. And she didn’t want to go with Shego, but Shego fit in so effortlessly. She was an anchor, and maybe Kim was just a little curious about who she was without her boss.
So she followed Shego to the bar and accepted the drink like the challenge that it was. “I meant what I said, Cupcake. You look good tonight.”
Kim tried to fight the blush creeping into her cheeks. “You do too.” Shego always looked nice, with her catsuits hugging every inch of her body, but tonight, in a green halter top and black pants…well, Kim would be lying if she claimed to be unaffected. Seeing her like this, in the shifting light of the club, sharp-edged and smirking, Kim almost understood the appeal of finding a stranger and getting lost in them. Not permanently, because she would never meet her soulmate in a place like this, but just for a few hours. Some piece of her, weak and desperately lonely, wanted the thrill of seeing someone beautiful, and being seen by them.
She didn’t drink all that often, and after a few drinks, she couldn’t resist saying, “You should dress like this more often.”
“Why? See something you’re interested in?”
Shut up, Kim told herself. “Your skin is such a pretty color,” the alcohol said through her mouth. “You shouldn’t hide it.”
“My skin is green.”
“I know. It’s pretty.” That wasn’t the alcohol; it was her, and it was nothing but the pure, honest truth. Shego stared at her with the most confounding mix of emotions, a combination of anger and fear and frustration and hope. And when it cleared, Shego was smiling.
Kim had never had a crush. She’d always turned down anyone who wanted her, because she was waiting for one person; she was saving every first for her soulmate. But when Shego smiled, Kim’s heart thundered in her chest. Her stomach swirled with a swarm of butterflies. She wondered how it would feel to touch her. She wouldn’t leave with Shego — wouldn’t sleep with her, wouldn’t kiss her, wouldn’t do anything but dance — but she wanted to be closer. She’d come here for an escape, and she could have it, right now, even if the person was entirely wrong. Even if they felt entirely too right.
So when Shego held out a hand and said, “Wanna dance, Kim?”, she didn’t hesitate. She took Shego’s hand, ready to lose herself in the music and the crowd and the almost-crush-like feeling fluttering in her chest.
And then the world exploded. She thought a light had strobed, but when her vision cleared, the people around them weren’t dressed in gray. The walls weren’t black. Some crevice of Kim’s mind wondered if her hair was closer to red or orange. She wondered if she would like the color. She wondered if Shego liked it.
Shego’s skin was still green. Her clothes were still green and black, and her lips were painted black, and her eyes were green and wide and panicked. Just like Kim’s, trying to take in too much, overwhelmed by colors she couldn’t name. “Shego—” Shego dropped her hand and ran, and Kim was left in a brightly colored room, dizzy and tipsy and entirely alone.
No. That was the only word in Shego’s mind. No. No. Kim was not her soulmate. No.
She stumbled into another club, desperate for a drink and a stranger’s body, but the club was vivid and dizzying and bright, and the thought of touching someone made her nauseous. Or maybe the colors were making her sick. Or the memory of Kim’s face, eyes wide and terrified and still somehow hopeful, like this wasn’t a nightmare come to life.
She didn’t turn on the lights in her house. At least the darkness looked the same; at least here, she could pretend that nothing had changed.
She was supposed to hate Kim. Even before tonight, before I’ll buy you a drink and It’s pretty and Wanna dance?, she’d had plenty of reasons to hate her. Kim was her enemy — a hero, a goody two-shoes, a living, breathing reminder of the family she’d left behind.
And Shego had always resented her soulmate. Kim was the one she’d always hated, the one who’d trapped her in that black and gray and green world. Kim was the reason she’d never been complete. And now, when she’d finally decided that she was whole and the colorless world was enough, Kim had stepped in to ruin everything. Like Shego’s life was just some plot for her to foil, like she was easy to pick apart.
So it should’ve been easy to hate her, but Shego could only summon that shock.
No. No. No.