The Incredibles

All's Fair in Love and Glory

Chapter One: The Blame Game

"I hate the government," Bob Parr growled.

He was currently working on the rather boring task of paying the bills. The electricity, water, school clothes, mortgage on their relatively new house, and other costs were adding up fast. To top it all off, he was still technically unemployed, since the promised check he'd been depending on Mirage for had yet to materialize.

Ever since the various fiascos – accidents – umpteen years ago, when the famous Supers were left unpaid and unloved, it was rather easy to blame his ungrateful government for all his problems.

Especially now that he was reduced to rifling through bills he couldn't pay.

When Helen got back from her shopping trip, she wouldn't be happy. He groaned. Again. She would be buying food. And clothes. And shoes.Again. His kids were growing too darn fast – always hungry, always getting too big for things. Just getting too big, in general!

He remembered the days fondly when he had swung a young Violet around by her arms. She had laughed, endlessly. And sung little songs in her sweet squeaky voice. Now her music was kept close and private like a secret, known only to her and her headphones. Oh, how he missed cute infant Violet, in her purple velvet "It's a Girl!" baby blankie, with the big soulful eyes and softest layer of downy black fuzz for hair. He would remember that day forever, taking her home from the hospital – his pride and joy. His little Violet.

At the moment, he knew she was upstairs, most likely listening to her CD player and daydreaming about her boyfriend instead of doing her homework. She would be sitting on her bed, her knees folded up to her chest, tucked up in an almost-fetal position. But so far from her baby self.

He shook off a bitter pang of loss – she was still alive and upstairs. Still his daughter. Yet… different than she had once been.

He wished he could find someone to blame for that.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"DASH!"

Helen Parr ground her teeth together in impatience. While her middle child didn't have the invisibility powers of his sister, he had done a pretty good job of making himself disappear among the clothing racks at the department store.

Jack-Jack, settled sleepily in his stroller, seemed quite content – for once. Helen was thankful for this, at least. She had to take Jack-Jack everywhere now – for some reason no babysitter would watch him anymore.

"Dashielle Robert Parr…"

Snickering to himself, Dash nestled deeper into the clothes he was hiding in. He hated shopping, so he hid in the racks of the little girls' section, where he would never be suspected.

Suddenly, as he crouched there, his shield parted. A pair of glimmering blue eyes searched his.

"Dash?"

Recognizing the girl from his class, Dash's own eyes widened.

"Shh, Carissa. I'm hiding," he whispered.

"Oh. Okay," the little girl said, hesitating. "Would you mind if I hid with you?"

Dash blew out a long breath, knowing that the gig would soon be up. Oh well, might as well the girl have a little fun. Let her think she was being sneaky. All right. But just… be quiet, okay?"

She nodded, silent now.

But too late.

"Dash!" Helen peeked into the hole in the center of the circular rack. Her thin lips pursed into a sly smile. "So, this was about a girl?"

"No!" he groaned, his cheeks coloring.

Humiliated, he narrowed his eyes into a glare directed at Carissa and her pathetic pouting display.

"Thanks a lot," he muttered, crawling out.

"I… I'm sorry," Carissa stuttered.

But as he obediently rejoined his mother, Dash decided that it wasn't really fair to blame Carissa. She was, after all… so… pretty…

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lucius Best did not particularly enjoy sleeping on the couch.

His wife, Honey, had banished him there.

His wife was a distinguished woman; a real lady. She enjoyed cocktail parties, a nice dinner; good entertainment. But she was also an opinionated woman, and when she lacked the above pleasures, things were not happy for anyone. Countless ruined evenings were blamed on Lucius.

It was not the first time he'd slept on the couch.

The couple's latest fight had resulted after Lucius "forgot" about a movie date. He'd gone to fight a fire instead. And now, he was fighting with Honey.

Generally, Lucius was a laid-back person. "Stayed cool," if you will. And he really did not like to fight. It was one thing to fight bad things – he was blessed/cursed with Super abilities and really had no choice. It was another, though, to fight with his lovely wife (with whom things could very easily get very ugly.)

He grunted and shifted, trying to get comfortable on the couch. It didn't seem very possible. But he continued to try. Because when he left his wife alone, she calmed down. And that was good. Because when she was happy, everybody was happy.

Rolling over, Lucius fell onto the floor. More grumbling… about Bob and those stupid fires.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sobbing, Mirage threw herself onto Syndrome's bed. It had been empty for a month now.

A month since he had left Nomanisan. Forever. He had planned to be gone for just a day – long enough to unleash the Omnidroid on his old hometown, then magically defeat it with the controller. He had planned on looking like a Super – a hero. Like he had always wanted to be. Syndrome had always had a plan. It had not, however, been his plan to be defeated by Mr. Incredible, and end up dead.

Syndrome had been her lover. Employer. Owner. When he had first hired her – it seemed so long ago – she had tried to stay professional. But he had not wanted her just as a secretary. He had been so boyish, so needy… so irresistible. Desire had flamed through her like his shock of orange hair.

And now, something else coursed through her – guilt. For defying him. For hurting him. By releasing Mr. Incredible and his family, she had also released Syndrome from herself. And ultimately allowed for his defeat. She shrieked and lobbed a pillow at the wall. She was to blame for his death.

She had made his uniform. Supersuit. With her own hands. That damned cape he had dreamed of, that had sucked him away to his death.

Mirage gulped down a breath and sat bolt upright, swiftly wiping away her tears as there was a knock at the door. For a brief, stupid moment, she hoped… but it was only one of the guards, wanting to check on her. He must have heard her scream. She let him go before going to look in the mirror.

Drying tears still glinted on her well-defined cheekbones, complemented by the sheen of her silver hair reflecting the light. She and Syndrome had stood her many times before, together, in front of the mirror. He had looked at her and called her perfect.

She snorted, disgusted at her tendency to reminisce. She had to be strong. She looked away. The mirror was lying to her.

Never again could she be perfect.