It's mid-June and hot, hot, hot outside, so Mirage busies herself in the cool depths of the barn, oiling and cleaning their tractors. These big green machines are no where near as advanced as something Buddy's clever mind could come up with, but even she has to admit: John Deer sure knows what they're doing. She's made an organized list on the back of a piece of scrap paper: "Clean freezers," "Wash windows," "Clean tractors," "Visit Mr. Garfield."

She likes lists and has only the tractor part to finish. She turns around to the sound of gravel being crunched underneath work boots and Buddy strolls into the barn, a stalk of grass hanging out of his mouth.

"Babe, Ah reckon this hay needs some rollin' in. Whadda yew think?" he asks with a fake, exaggerated Mid-Western accent.

He gives her a sly grin and she holds back her laughter, but when he tosses her into the pile of hay, she can't keep from showing her happiness. This is the Buddy she remembers, the one that wasn't Syndrome. Fortunately, being in the middle of nowhere means they can be as loud as they want, and Mirage is sure that the sounds they make would get them arrested for noise pollution elsewhere.

He finishes in her fifteen minutes later and they pant, completely spent.

"I was trying to work, Buddy," she chides before licking his neck.

"I thought you might need a break," he moans under her touch.

She's ready to go again and she wants him to want her more than anything. And indeed she is spellbinding to this mere mortal.


Later at the beginning of dusk, she finds Buddy out on the back porch leaning against one of the old wooden support beams. He's watching the sunset behind the cornfield, lost in thought. Mirage watches him through the screen door for a few minutes, simply loving his angular silhouette and stillness. The light catches on his orange hair, giving an aura of fire, a halo for the redeemed saint she lives with. She wishes it was pulled up in that ridiculous Syndrome hairstyle, so she could imagine it was a large flame atop those broad shoulders. Carefully she steps out of the house, making sure she doesn't make any noise with the doors squeaky hinges. She can tell he hasn't heard her yet, and part of her still enjoys being able to surprise him, the all-knowing supervillian. She stands beside him and rests a thin hand on his arm. He jerks his head over, looking incredibly startled… the same way he did when Mr. Incredible—

Well, that doesn't matter anymore. This is Buddy, not Syndrome.

Buddy looks at her and then smiles, placing his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. She closes her eyes and basks in his warmth, like a flower with its first taste of sun. She' s lost in his size, the lily of the valley against the mighty oak tree and with her head against his chest, she can hear the steady, constant beat of his heart. Mirage wonders what he's thinking about, if he ever recalls blurry memories of the past. Would he tell her if he had flashbacks? Probably not, she decides remorsefully. He trusts her with everything, but she can tell that there is a slight seed of doubt in his mind, which she has unintentionally let take root; how can he have faith in her if she won't tell him whom he really is? But that's her fault and she'll just have to live with it.

"Can we have pancakes for dinner?" he asks softly, his voice breaking the perfect silence on the farm.

"Sure, Buddy. Anything you want," she murmurs and turns her adoring face to him.

"Gimme a kiss," he whispers and she sees the devotion in his eyes.

She stands on her tiptoes and lets her lips meet his, joining them together in a momentary union.

"Lemme get started on the food," she says embracing him as their lips leave one another.


They watch a lot of reality TV shows because they both enjoy watching people go through orchestrated struggles. It's not too different from watching Supers get killed by Omnidroids, really. Same fear, same anticipation, same exhilaration, same cutthroat competition, only these people have to use their wits to survive, no extraordinary powers of flight, strength or fire. And, she has absolutely banned the news channels from the house, to which she explains,

"I don't want to bring all the world's sorrow into the house."

Buddy says it's okay and doesn't argue—he doesn't have reason to watch the news, anyways. There is no internet or computer in the house and she tells him that there never will be either here on the farm. Buddy thinks it because she's worried he'll become addicted; Mirage knows it's because he could find his real identity and all hell would break loose.

There is only one phone in the house, in the kitchen, and it's rarely used. Occasionally they call Realtop to ask about road conditions in the winter, but no one ever calls them and they have no friends. Mirage actually has no idea what the phone's ring sounds like. Buddy wanted cell phones at one point, but she pointed out that there wasn't a cell tower in miles, so it would be pointless. And that was the truth!

Tonight is the Big Brother marathon leading up to the season finale and she's totally engrossed in the drama between two of the girls, though she has noticed Buddy's distracted behavior.

"Do we have anymore of your boysenberry syrup?" he finally asks.

She gives him a funny look. "I think so. Why?"

"I want to lick it off you," he says, his face a mask of innocence.

"Buddy!" she squeals, hitting him in the chest with one of the throw pillows.

He gives a devilish laugh and dives on top of her.

They completely miss the season finale.