Symptom

By Shahrezad1

Summary: "All the while thoughts were rushing through her head, like, 'what was that?' 'I can't believe I just said that!' and 'please let me not be crazy. Oh please, oh please, oh please.' " The revisiting of the 3rd chapter of Synchronous, made into a full-length fanfic. Enjoy. :)

NOTE: Edits have been made to this, as I was caught cringing every few minutes when rereading the old chapter. XD So there may be…tweakings that readers may be unfamiliar with, especially when comparing it to Synchronous. Thank you. ^^

Disclaimer: Syndrome (alias Buddy Pine) and Violet Parr belong to Brad Bird, the creators at Pixar, and the Disney/Pixar company itself. No infringement is intended, this is created for sheer fun.

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Chapter 1: Symptom

"Well, if you've got the poison, I've got the remedy."

-The Remedy, Jason Mraz

The table was a rough companion to Violet's eyes as she stared down in boredom and slight ill-humor, its grain twisting and turning to fill creativity's needs as she sat trapped at dinner. The meal on her plate was steaming hot, the night was calm and star-filled, and her family surrounding her throughout in safety and health. But that there stood the problem.

Her family. As a younger girl her parents had attempted (with an emphasis on the attempt) to stifle and hide any and all of their bickering. Choosing to gift their children with an almost-true presentation of a couple united (except for when caught red-handed). But what wasn't immediately obvious as a child is something easily seen as an eighteen-year old young woman, in her first semester of college.

Mom is mad at Dad for fighting without her.

It was as simple as that. Her parents had fought a villain just a week previous, but when that Villain had escaped their clutches Violet's father had hied off to confront him with no notice to their mother, before or after the incident.

Only for Mrs. Parr to find out the truth several days later through Honey of all people, her husband Lucius having also participated in the eventual fight.

It was a tenuous situation that her father was in, and Violet wouldn't be surprised to find him sleeping on a cot in his new 'Den' for the next few nights. But the situation made dinnertime…difficult. Just as it always was right after one of her parents' spats. And the fact that she was trying to study for a Physics midterm at the same time didn't help the matter either, the book sitting placidly next to her plate.

Food and science. Food and science, she repeated again and again as a silent mantra, trying to ignore her surrounding environment. But that was hardly any defense against the bull-like bellow of her father nor even her mother's sharp-edged tones.

Every now and again said voices would escalate for a moment before falling in a parody of civility, but it was uneasy as best and she had a feeling that her father had finally realized just how much trouble he was in. Well, if his suddenly subdued, almost confused words were anything to go by. Still, the air of anger made Violet edgy. Not to mention the fact that she already had a headache, and for some reason the more heated her parents' words became the harder time she was having when it came to focusing-.

[Talk about pathetic.]

What?

The single sentence brought her melancholy focus to an abrupt stop, book forgotten and food suddenly bland on her tongue. When only silence answered her mentally query (with exception of her parents and the absentminded comments her brothers were sharing, words and pieces of broccoli bouncing back and forth between them without a care for the mess), Violet breathed one deep breath and turned her head to her book.

Only to see a disorganized track of numbers written along the border and between the paragraphs, scratched out in crimson ink. Her heaving gasp caught her father's attention minutely, but only long enough for her mother to become irked over his "inattention" ("I swear, Bob, you're not listening to a word I'm saying, are you?"). And when Vi eventually looked back down the writing was gone.

All except for a slight smear of color on the paper's edge. But that could really have been anything. Violet frowned, wondering for a second if she'd had anything with ketchup lately…or maybe spaghetti. After all, she didn't own any red pens, and while the text book was a used copy, the previous owner had taken good care of it.

The girl peered at the smear as though it was the key to everlasting peace, but it afforded no answers. And so with only a slightly closed expression did she pick up her fork again and-.

(Where are we? What's going on?)

The fork clattered to her plate, and immediately Dash shot her a look. First in query, then in suspicion as she continued with her shocked act. He then deliberately shifted his chair away from her in that matter that all little brothers have, even fourteen-year old brothers, a detail she failed to notice. Five-year old Jack continued his exploration of the broccoli jungle sitting upon his plate without notice.

And then it began again.

[Geeze, I just had to get stuck with you of all people.]

(What's that supposed to mean?)

You? Who was 'You?' And why was the ruder of the two picking on the apparently younger one? Despite herself, she couldn't help but dredge up some childhood memories of her own as a comparison to the two. But none of the rest of her family apparently even heard the commentary.

[Kid, if you didn't get it, then you're dumber than you look.]

(I know you are, but what am I?) the childish voice answered in irritation.

What in the world was going on? One second she was eating dinner, tolerating her family, and doing her homework, and the next second two people were having an argument that only she could hear. A young kid, and an adult male that was much older, if not in maturity. Talk about a petty bunch of immature little—

[Hey, hey, hey, lady. You wouldn't be so hot herself if you'd been trapped in a box for freaking years. I mean, honestly, talk about trying to torture a guy. And then when I finally get released it just had to be a chick. I mean, come on! Irony has GOT to be having a field day with this one.]

Utter silence. Violet couldn't act, couldn't think or speak. Had the voice just…responded to her? Then, when she thought she couldn't take the pregnant silence any longer…

(We're in a girl?) The horror in the boy's voice was the last straw.

"ALL RIGHT! THAT'S IT!"

Then there really was silence, as Violet realized that she'd spoken out loud. Her parents and siblings alike stared at her standing form, and the college student realized that she had to say something quick, or explain to her entire family that she was hearing voices in her head. Not a pretty picture.

"Okay," the girl began slowly, carefully removing all emotion from the equation as she searched for words, "Dad. Mom is mad at you because you didn't take her with you. Essentially you left her behind. It's not that you stayed out late doing the arrest, or that she doesn't want you to save people do your job. She just wants you to include her and make her feel appreciated. Do you understand?"

The shocked expression on her father's face told her that this was new news to him, but that he was more than willing to accept the knowledge if it meant not sleeping in the 'dog house.' Violet fought the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration, and instead directed her next words at her mother.

"Mom. Dad knew you already had plans that day and didn't want you to have to cancel them. Because he knows what it's like to miss out on activities because of superhero work. He also thought that he could take him down on his own, since the guy's a bit of a pushover. Also, he wanted to show you that he was just as good as he was in his prime. You love each other. It's a misunderstanding. So freaking kiss and make up, okay!" then, a second later, "but not where we have to watch it."

Anger turned to realization as Helen remembered that she had participated in a girls' night out, while Bob absorbed what she had said and seemed willing to apologize. Dash still looked surprised, but his attention had returned to the task of cleaning up his broccoli mess before their mother noticed, now that she wasn't distracted.

Jack was still burying his face in the mountain of vegetables he'd created.

Invisigirl took a deep, controlled breath. Okay, that was easy enough wasn't it?

"Okay. So if no one minds then I'm going to go study in my room. No? Good."

Before they could respond she'd turned invisible and exited, a ball of invisible mass rushing from the room in desire for safety, emotionally or otherwise. All the while thoughts were rushing through her head, like, 'what was that?' 'I can't believe I just said that!' and 'please let me not be crazy. Oh please, oh please, oh please.'

Thankfully nothing answered her request for sanity, and in a shorter time than expected Violet found herself holed up in her safe haven, lavender walls a counterpoint to the dark blue bedding covering the four-poster centerpiece, its fabric complete with sprinkled white flowers. It was on this duvet that she sat, breathing deeply in an effort to stave off hyperventilation.

Something dark caught in the corner of her eye and without pause she turned, expecting to see a pile of laundry or a stuffed animal of some sort. Instead electric-blue eyes were reflected at her from her full length mirror, and Violet couldn't bite back a short scream, whirling around to face-nothing.

She was the only one in her room.

But then how…?

Approaching the mirror the same way one might approach a wild animal, the Superheroine moved slowly and carefully to the mirror's edge. It appeared normal enough, but still she decided to take a closer look, especially with it being a newcomer to her room.

That is, she'd been unexpectedly given the mirror.

It was a well-known fact within the circles of the NSA that after their family's first fight against evil (and consequential first introduction to the world at large as a Superhero group) that their home had been destroyed. Flattened, exploded, and overall covered in a rain of dust, wood, and twisted metal. They had believed that nothing had survived the death (destruction) of their former home, until a week ago. Rick Dicker himself had walked through their doors with a mismatch of items that had been recovered from the site of their old home, appearing almost four years after it had first perished. First there had been Helen's grandmother's dishes, stored and backed away in the back of the garage as they had been, then the film and bank statements her parents had placed in their fire-safe. And then there was the mirror.

It was something her mother couldn't remember ever having, but her father swore that it had been found at a yard sale or an antique shop or something, then had been placed in the garage. Still, it was something neither her parents nor her brothers had a care for, so the miscellaneous heirloom had gone to the only girl in consolation for the mementos lost. A girl that didn't really feel the need for a floor-length mirror, but appreciated the backhanded gift anyway.

Now, however, she was starting to regret accepting it.

Running her hands down the finely carved grain of the glass's frame, Violet searched for something, anything that might be written or drawn to indicate, well, magic or something of the sort. Possibly a listening device built into the base, or an instrument to alter her brain waves.

It was this extreme attention to detail that made her miss the existence of someone else standing directly behind her, in her reflection's shadow, until the prickling of hairs on her neck abruptly froze her hand mid-sweep. Navy-blue eyes rising slowly to view the very wicked grin of a man she thought dead.

[Why, hello there miss, I don't believe we've been formally introduced. Especially now that we inhabit the same, well, space.]

Gaping at the mirror, her immediate reaction was to whirl around again, as she had before. But just like previously, she found that she was all alone in her room.

A chuckle reverberated from at her back. From the direction of the mirror. [Well, physically alone, anyway.]

Hair that would have hit the face of anyone actually standing that close, as she turned for her fourth time, only flew through the reflected figure, and he arched an eyebrow once before giving her an assessing up-and-down look, then smiling approvingly.

[I take back what I said, though, about being stuck with a chick. Honestly, I don't find that I mind anymore. Really.] And then the trademark smirk of ill-intent from her childhood was back, but aimed nefariously at her in the mirror's edge. And then the reflection seemed to move closer. Three steps closer from behind, until he had managed to tuck one arm around her waist, the other wrapped loosely around her neck in a pseudo-romantic move. Had she not also known that he could break her easily with it as well.

But as real as his actions were, she couldn't feel the bands around her form physically. Only a brush of cold air. But cold air that was stronger in spirit than anything in the flesh, tying her down so that despite his non-existing presence, she still had no ability to break away.

Until a tumble of warm air barreled into them both.

'Syndrome' grunted, falling away, and in the space between them formed the embodiment of joyful boyhood, complete with cape and makeshift uniform. His second act was to kick her doppelganger attacker in the calf before scowling up furiously.

(Let her go! Let her go, you…you Villain!)

[OW! Ooh, you're gonna get it now, you little pain in the-!]

"Leave him alone!

The fighting duo froze. Looked at her. Waited just long enough for Violet to fight back her fear and horror, nearly shouting as she pointed shakily at the mirror, "y-you! You're Syndrome! But if you're him, then who are-?"

The child grinned up at her gleefully, face freshly scrubbed and eyes alight with pleasure, (my name's Buddy! Buddy Pine. But you can call me Incrediboy!)

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AN:

I still agree with my old Author's Note—I've been involving myself too much in the Labyrinth fandom. I swear, as I was writing, "But if you're him…" I was hearing, "you're him, aren't you? You're the Goblin King!" XD Nerd.

Anyway, to explain:

I was perusing the Incredibles fanfiction page and made a wish that there was more Synlet in the world to read. Then I realized that half the problem was me. ("If you want something done right…erm. Done at all. Do it yourself." And that totally doesn't sound prideful or uppity or anything. –laughs-)

Also, this is totally an excuse to turn some of the chapters from Synchronous into full-fledged fics. Muahaha. Yes, my inherent evilness is coming out.

This chapter is review, but the next one will definitely be new material. See you next time. :)