Chapter XX

The Plundering of Libya

It was just Violet's luck that the next morning came not with the excitement of a first kiss-but with rainfall. The ship tilted dangerously in the swells of the storm, and she was glad their beds were bolted to the floor. Unfortunately for most of them, there was still work to be done and ponchos readily available. Violet had been cloistered in med bay patching up slips and counting out how many amoxicillins they had, anticipating a pandemic of sniffles. Buddy was out working with the rest and Violet didn't have a moment to steal away with him.

Two days of rain was followed by a cheerful sun-and the total detachment of a stack of cargo containers. Happily, nothing had actually rolled off into the sea, but the injuries had been extensive. Hair pinned in a messy bun, she had run about all morning, checking dazed crew members, stitching up bloody hands and arms that were caught in the fall, as well as checking for concussions-including for her own brother.

What had come with the incident was the old discontentment of not being able to use their powers. If they weren't trying to hide, the whole incident could have been prevented instead of creating more work for everyone during the last legs of the journey. For the next few days as they drifted closer and closer to Japan, she and Buddy had seen neither hide nor hair of one another, both at their respective posts, cleaning up the damage. She tried waiting up long after everyone else went to bed, maybe to catch a spare few words or even a good night, but she always fell asleep-and he was always gone in the morning.

Today, the last of their days at sea, was the first time she had been able to escape the med bay while the sun was still up. Japan was in their sights, and Violet wished, foolishly, that it was just a little further away. It had been a boon being so isolated from the world as if the horror of the mission had been put on hold and she could breathe for the first time in months; she could worry about such trivial things as men and affections instead of rectifying an entire government outreach.

But closer they were, and the proximity to the island seemed to infect their team. Her mother was quiet, so much so that her father had begun to worry she had caught something, asking his daughter what antibiotics they had on board, while Dash was so pent up with nervous energy, he had begun running agonizingly slow laps around the ship at night. Even the Ultra half of their little squad felt the tension. Just this morning Violet had heard Mirage and Buddy argue during one of her long grueling shifts, cleaning up after yet another round of stitches.

She had been tying up the biohazard trash, just finished off the knot, and washed her hands when she heard her almost lover's voice. She had grinned and caught her ridiculous smile in the glass of the medicine cabinet. But instead of chastising herself, she had simply patted down the flyaways from her hair. After hours on her feet, laser-focused on her work, Violet was desperate for distraction.

Among other things-and she suspected he was too. After all their agreed-upon 'tomorrow' had long since passed, and the med bay door did lock. Not that the desk-or worse the padded exam table-was the most romantic spot for her first foray into seduction. Still, there were girls with worse experiences.

She had gone to the door to beacon him inside before the medic returned, but paused, hearing the tail end of his conversation with his former lover.

"...ne of your business, Nat."

"It is very much my business, Buddy. And I suggest you either resolve it or take the matter in hand by yourself and get over it before you jeopardize this mission."

"Me?! I'm jeopardizing this mission?!"

From there they had descended into snapping at one another in French, both climbing the stairs towards the deck, and Violet couldn't understand just what the argument was about. She had a sense that it was about her-but without evidence, Violet refused to give in to paranoia. After all, Mirage had acted as if Violet and the villain were already a couple, so much so that she believed Violet could sway the stubborn ass's opinion; a completely fruitless task even to a super. Still, she couldn't puzzle out what else would make them fight like that, what else could 'jeopardize' their mission.

Pinching the bridge of her nose as she leaned against the bow's railing, waiting for Buddy to arrive, Violet told herself to grow up. They were probably arguing about how to go about capturing Fell. Buddy had made it clear he was still on his 'Murder First Ask Questions Never' track, and Violet supposed Mirage was more inclined to gather information and move subtly, safely. After all, her entire job had been info gathering, and she was damned good at it.

She had a thick file of new identities and a stack of the most important guests at the festival they all had to memorize when they were alone at the safe house, not including actually scouting out the location, planning on how to neutralize both Fell and whatever security he might bring. It was a lot to do in the span of ten days before the festival, on top of Mac and Buddy actually building the gadgets he had been sketching this last month. Mirage couldn't afford to let her mind wander, and neither could Buddy.

So maybe they were talking about me. She was technically distracting him…

Violet bit her lip, a little confused. If Mirage was so ready to leverage Violet in her favor-to use her to coerce Buddy-then why was she berating him for his shift of focus? It didn't make sense-

Violet was about to stand and go find the femme fatal herself, to settle her curiosity when a pair of calloused hands covered her eyes from behind. It was very, very bad that a simple touch from the villain could dispel any and all plans she had before the moment contact was made. Still, Violet held his wrists and smirked. "Come to practice your speech again?"

"No, it's a better man, lass."

Violet jumped and spun, ducking under MacConnell's hold, who was already descending into snickers. "MacConnell!"

"Now don't be mad. You looked too lonely here, I thought I'd come and keep you company. And if you're gonna yell at me, at least call me Liam." He wandered to the railing and leaned a hip against it. "After all, we're practically kin by now."

Violet sighed and tried not to feel too disappointed. "Why aren't you helping out everyone else?"

"Work's done for the day. All that's left is waiting to dock." When she glanced over his shoulder, Liam shook his head. "He's still below decks. Finally sweet-talked his way into the engine room, though heaven only knows why. He's seen ship engines before. Maybe he's got a new idea."

"Oh…" But the engine...

"I can fetch him if you like-"

"No, that's fine." She shrugged and returned to leaning her arms against the railing. The sun was nearly set by now. Did he not know she was waiting here? Surely he would have seen her while working. "He's busy. Probably trying to get in good with the captain so that Quinn will stop loathing him."

"Quinn has always loathed him, loathed all of us. In fact, I don't think there's a person on God's green earth that Quinn has a decent feeling for."

"He's engaged you know, and he wasn't that bad."

"Did he stare at your arse?"

"...Legs."

"That's what I thought." Liam lifted a shoulder. "But, you're probably right. You've a better read on our Buddy than I do."

"That's not true, you've known him longer."

He leaned close with a wicked smirk. "But you've known him better."

Violet huffed a slightly exasperated laugh. "I don't know where you or Mirage get this idea from."

"From the fact that you two are like magnets whenever you're within ten feet of each other," Liam pointed out. "Or that he's given up smokes. I can only imagine why Doc Parr."

"Yeah, well, I can't either," Violet snorted.

"Ah, I see. Lover's quarrel."

"No! We're n-no. The only one he's fighting with is your wife. Do you know what that was about?"

Liam shook his head. "No, but they're always at it-always have been. It's how they plan, that's all. They'll snipe and argue and finally agree on a course of action, and he'll act like it was all according to plan anyway." His easy smile flickered. "Why? Now, don't go thinking there's something there."

Violet flushed. She hadn't considered that at all and didn't appreciate the light it cast her in. "Of course not, I'm not thirteen. I just saw them arguing yesterday, that's all. She said he was 'jeopardizing' our mission."

Liam hung his head. "Yes, that. Don't get her wrong, she has nothing against what you've been doing. But our Nat has always hated loose ends. She likes to be in control, you ken? Move everyone around until she's satisfied she's got the upper hand."

"That sounds familiar."

"Aye, they're a pair. But she's right to worry since you've monopolized my poor mate's attention."

Violet snorted. "Not quite. He's late."

Liam's smirk tugged into a grin. "Oh aye, that's right. Your little twilight 'training'. I've seen you two up here once or twice gettin' the best of each other-and Pine's always out of breath when he comes to the showers."

Violet was red by now at his insinuation. She wasn't sure what she was more flustered about-what Liam was implying that they were doing (in public!), or the fact that they hadn't been doing that at all, despite their best efforts. She settled for folding her arms and glaring out at sea. "We really are training, you know." He let out a very unconvinced 'mmhmm', and Violet pointed out, "if that were the case, don't you think he'd be here by now?"

"I know if I had a chance at a little hand to hand, I'd run up here like my arse was on fire. But," Liam shrugged, "men do very odd things when they're in love." When Violet turned to him sharply, he asked, "Oh, come now, lass, surely you knew that?"

Maybe she had-but never voiced it to herself. She had called what she felt love; after all, Violet was well versed in the subject having been surrounded by it her whole life. She hadn't given much thought to his affections-not because she doubted them; she had simply set realistic expectations. Violet had tried to see him as he was, rather than what she wanted him to be, just as Buddy saw his own friends.

He wasn't a man of flowery speeches, sweet notes, and thoughtful gestures, like Tony. He wasn't a romantic, and just like his body, there wasn't a soft spot left in him. Buddy Pine was steel, power, and determination. Flinty and sharp and sarcastic. it wasn't in his nature and she would have never expected the words to actually fall from his lips.

But Violet supposed she felt it. In the way he had treated her like an equal, even if it showed as frequent disappointment in his estimations of her intelligence. There was an honor in his acidic teasing, something he would not have given to another who he didn't believe could keep up. And of course, there were the more intimate moments, the spaces where he did not mock, where his warmth was so sweet it hurt…

Her cheeks burned again, and she let her hair fall in her face to hide her pleased smile. A different kind of warmth infused her at the thought-the kind that centered itself in the northern hemisphere of her body. Liam only chuckled. "See? Perhaps Nat is trying to get him to make a move so we all don't have to suffer watching you two dance around each other."

"So you're saying he's staying away...because he's in love?" Violet leaned her hip against the side of the boat, at least in a better mood than before. "I am unconvinced with this little hypothesis."

"I'm telling you, lass, being in love is rocket. Makes you madder than a hatter. One time I climbed Nomanisan's volcano with nothing more than a pack and a bit of rope."

The volcano? It had been active when Violet had been on the island. "What does nearly killing yourself have to do with being in love?"

Liam's expression became wistful, and for a moment she saw memory dampen his good humor. Despite never seeing the inside of a mad scientist's lab, or jet turbine, this head mechanic was not untouched by the bloody legacy of Syndrome. "Because that day I had heard my wife and your lover talk-saying once Kronos was finished, it was time they finally knuckled down and got married." He shook his head. "I wasn't ready to force myself to be happy about it, and it was the first time I really knew-I loved that girl more than anything, and I could be so close to her and totally separated from her for the rest of my life. I couldn't stand another minute in that building, so up the mountain I went. It gave me something to focus on that wasn't my heart shriveling up.

"He's probably doing the same, trying to work it out. Pine's always done that-never could feel an emotion outright, had to bang on an engine or hack at a computer until it went away. At least that's how he used to be, before Syndicate."

Liam tilted his head back, squinting up at the quickly purpling sky as if trying to see the stars early. "I tell you, I hate how everything has turned out-the hiding and Fell...but I am grateful to your family for a few things. They did something we never could."

"Broke them up before they tied the knot?"

"No-well yes technically, just don't tell anyone. No, they destroyed Kornos...they killed Syndrome, and they gave Buddy back to us. Though I do wish he'd come back without vomiting blood on our carpet."

It's a dead man's name. Violet remembered Buddy's aversion to the creature he had become, molded by resentment and hate. He would never apologize for it, but even she could see the regret of how far he had taken it. All that the would-be hero had stolen from him.

The mask was both power and parasite, and Violet no longer felt the sting of betrayal for considering it so. To don it, use it, was an exchange that was heavily in the cloth's favor. It demanded the physical, the mental, and the livelihood of whoever wore it, and only gave back one type of glory-one Violet wasn't sure she would ever want.

They would have to give up a lot Buddy had sympathized. He had understood more than just Fell and the nightmares-he understood both the desire and the aversion to heroism, having been quite literally burned by it twice over. Violet could never tell her almost lover this, but it was the same regret she saw in her father whenever he remembered how close his actions had come to losing his family.

She offered him up another smile. "I'm sorry then. We returned him and now I'm taking him away again."

"Don't get me wrong, lass. You can have him." Liam laughed, nudging her shoulder with his. "Let him snap at you all day, and rant and ignore you as soon as a new gadget grabs his attention."

"Like a ship's engine?"

"Like a ship's engine. I'm afraid you'll have to get used to this. But-" Liam pushed off the railing and bent in a mockery of a courtly bow. "Since we are both so woefully neglected by our busy beloveds, let me escort you to the mess for dinner."

"Violet, are you sure you haven't forgotten anything?"

"Huh?"

Helen gestured to the bag on Violet's bunk. "To pack? Did you check under the bed?"

"Oh, yeah, of course," Violet fibbed. She in fact hadn't checked anything and had been glancing at the door to their bunk room for the past hour. She and Liam had had a rather entertaining dinner in the mess hall, mostly him recounting embarrassing Pomegranate Inc stories about Buddy and himself. But when she had returned to the deck, Buddy was nowhere to be seen. By that time the crew began to gather in their unofficial designated space, cracking open liquor bottles and ready to celebrate being on land again. So Violet had descended downstairs to finish packing up her things and wait for him, and perhaps know why exactly she had been jilted on their last day of freedom. "But I'll...I'll check again!"

Helen sighed, but instead of saying anything else, went to help her husband, who was unsure how the perfectly folded clothes he had come aboard with were now no longer fitting in his bag, balled and bulky.

Violet knelt and lifted the blanket on her bed, peering underneath for any abandoned socks or hair ties. As she looked she saw a pair of converse-covered feet running across the floor, skidding to a halt right before her.

"Do you have cash," Dash cried.

"What?"

"Do you have any money? Even just a ten?"

"What do you need money for," Bob asked, just as confused as his eldest.

"I-um-just some...games."

"Dashel Robert Parr," Helen started. "You are not playing dice."

"It's not dice! I promise." He turned on his sister again. "Please, Vi, do you have anything?!"

"I...think?" Violet rooted around in her pack, finally pulling out her worn black bifold. She barely took out the twenty before her brother snatched it from her fingers.

"Thanks! Promise I'll pay you back!" Almost engaging in his powers, Dash flew from the room, leaving the eldest Parrs to simply glance at each other.

"...Well it can't be anything good," Violet concluded, hauling herself to her feet and following her brother above deck. He was of course nowhere to be seen, but Violet tiptoed through the dark alleys the stacked containers created, following the ruckus and noise that echoed from the bow of the ship. At first, all she saw was a crush of people, cheering and laughing, swaying with more than just the swells of the sea if the stench of liquor was to be believed. Carefully pushing her way through the wall of bodies, taking the randomly handed out cup filled with what looked like whiskey, she called her brother's name until she finally saw what had attracted the crowd's attention.

In the place where she and Buddy usually spared, the man himself stood, stripped down to nothing but his jeans and undershirt. Someone had given him sports tape to wrap his knuckles, which obviously were more for his swaying opponent than him. He and a member of the crew were circling each other carefully in the makeshift ring the huddle of bodies had created.

Violet swung between extremely annoyed that he was here, now, sparring with a stranger when he ought to have been with her, and appreciating the sight of his form. She opted for the latter, her eyes sweeping the angle his back made-from broad shoulders to narrow waist, the undershirt clinging with perspiration-as she sipped her drink (confirming it was good old Jack) and watched the fight play out.

The crewman swung wide and Buddy easily backed away, laughing and beckoning him closer with his hands. The crowd jeered, egging the man on foolishly. He swung again, sloppy and signaled. Buddy caught his arm under his own, and kicked out his knee, sending the crew member sprawling to the ground with a bone-rattling thump. Another man came forward, slapping the ground, counting to three before declaring Buddy the winner. There were equal amounts of cheers and groans as the victor spread his hands wide, grinning over his triumph and playing to the crowd.

"For God's sake-" Violet jumped, hearing her father's voice right behind her. "We're supposed to be covert!"

"Where's Mirage," Helen asked, right behind her husband. "She seems to be the only one to talk sense into him."

Not if you ask her, Violet thought, scanning the crowd. "I don't think you're going to get much luck there, Mom." She pointed to the woman in question. She was seated on a liquor crate, counting out dollar bills and consulting a list, obviously handing out winnings to the various gamblers who had placed their bets on Buddy. Her husband stood behind her, drink in hand, and enjoying the spectacle. Catching Violet's eye, he winked and nodded to Buddy.

This must be his volcano.

"He doesn't actually think you're going to join," Helen laughed.

Well, she was owed a training session. And she had just enough whiskey in her to make her bold. Pulling off her sweatshirt to reveal her black thermal, she handed it and her half-empty cup to her mother and stepped out into the clearing. Buddy, who was laughing, eyes dancing with victory and alcohol, stopped cold at the sight of her. For a split second all the joy in his expression seemed to evaporate, but it was only a second, almost too quick for Violet to see. Then he was grinning again, even if it was at a dimmer wattage.

"Coming all this way to congratulate me?"

"Sort of. Got any more of that tape?"

Buddy's brows shot into his bangs, and there was a collective chuckling 'oooh' that rang through the crowd. Immediately several pairs of hands offered her compression tape rolls of various amounts. She chose one blindly and began to wrap her hands. "You skipped our training, after all."

"I'm a busy man."

"It was an important lesson you skipped."

"Oh?" Despite whatever emotion had gripped him in that flicker of a second, Buddy slipped easily back into their cadence, grinning. He leaned back on one foot, hands on his hips. "Come to teach me then?"

"Don't be an exhibitionist pig," she cautioned. "We'll just review what we already know. Namely me pinning you to the wall."

"Promises, promises. You're not as equipped as you were then, princess."

Dash finally appeared, stumbling to a halt before Mirage shoving the twenty into her hands. "My bet's on Violet!"

"Hey." Buddy swung around. "The hell do you mean? You think I'm afraid of your sister?"

Mac reached into his pocket, licked his thumb, and began counting out several twenties. "Me too."

Now the villain was downright offended. "Hey!"

"I've got bets on the ginger," a crewman called. "No offense miss!"

"The winner!"

"The girl!"

All around her the crew began to shout out their bets, either shelling out more green or subtracting from their already large winnings. Even her father slipped Mirage a ten. "On Violet."

His wife, who was still juggling Violet's things, glared. "Bob!"

"What? We have to support our kids, no matter what they do, remember?"

"That was about Violet going to college."

"It's a universal sentiment!"

By that time, the girl in question had finished wrapping her hands and put her hair up, now stretching in preparation. The man that had served as referee insofar as telling them to get ready clapped his hands to indicate that they begin.

They circled each other, and Violet was more pleased than she ought to have been when she noticed his eyes frequently flickering down to the sway of her hips as she moved.

"You're doing that on purpose," he growled.

"No more than you looking rugged and worn out is on purpose."

"I'm not worn o-" He straightened a little, tossing his head to flick the hair out of his eyes. "You think I'm rugged?"

"Mhmm!" She chose that second to strike when he was distracted by her compliment. He blocked but only at the last moment, grabbing her wrist and flinging her to the ground. Violet rolled easily, springing back up to her feet and they began in earnest.

She didn't have her powers on her side, but they had been practicing for weeks; she was learning his style. And while she had yet to get the better of him, Violet was fresh and slightly soberer. Buddy was obviously a few cups in and had been going at it for what looked like hours. His reaction time was slowed, his judgment impaired and no amount of memory could urge muscles ladened by liquor.

Still, all it did was level the field, it didn't guarantee her victory, and her villain was more than happy to use her slight weight against her-flinging her about like a rag doll between strikes and kicks.

But Violet was fast, using his tosses to roll and strafe around him. She made a b-line for his back, anchoring her hands on his shoulders, flinging her legs up under his arm until she got them around his neck. Riding the momentum she let her torso fall, swing, and grabbed his opposite arm, curling as she did. The motion made him bend, head following the downward trajectory of her legs towards the ground, flipping him ass over tea kettle whilst Violet's feet hit the deck. She was able to spin away elegantly while he lay dazed, staring up at the sky.

"...What just happened?"

The impromptu ref slapped the ground while he lay through all three counts. "Round one-the lovely lady!"

Violet checked the wrapping on her knuckles nonchalantly. "I won." Darling.

"Yeah!" She heard her brother's voice over the combined groans and cheers as she let Buddy go. "Kick his ass Violet!"

The start of their next spar had barely been called before Buddy sought retribution. This round was certainly not in her favor and ended with her in a full nelson-not that she was complaining. It was the closest they had been since the bike trip. Reaching behind her head as their unofficial ref counted down to her defeat, she found the back of his neck and gently dragged her nails against the grain of the soft downy hair she found there. The three was called at the same time he let her go, crying out and shivering from the sensation.

"Cheater," he hissed when she turned to face him.

"Resourceful," she corrected, a practically evil grin tugging at her lips. "If you want revenge-" Violet spread her hands, backing up slowly in a wicked imitation of his taunting oh so long ago in the OR. "Come and get it."

The crowd was cheering, clapping, pounding the ground with their feet, finally glad for a real show. It was a tie, and they cried for a winner. But the fighters danced around the makeshift ring, focused more on each other to notice the audience around them. Violet saw how his intense gaze followed her, how he no longer played to the people, reveling in his glory. It was only her and their fight; physical now, instead of verbal, once again in the dark with the taste of whiskey in their mouths.

But Violet did notice the cheering, was growing drunk on it-distantly understanding why her father had chased the sensation for so long-and began to substitute for her opponent's grandstanding and showing off. Her moves became more elaborate, adding flourishes to the evades, making her strikes and tumbles more elaborate. Whenever she got close enough, she would blow in his ear, or curl a lock of red hair around her finger-enough to send him off-kilter, make him stumble, make him distracted.

And the liquor in her system gave her the confidence to move in ways that would have made her hesitate before. Buddy swung at her legs, and she actually managed to lean into a cartwheel without falling flat on her face, making the men around her roar with approval as they quickly moved out of her way.

Until she landed on her feet, the inertia of the move making her stumble backward, tripping over her own heels. Violet's spine hit the railing of the bow, and she tipped back dangerously with a shriek, saw the star dotted sky above her turn quickly tumble towards her feet-

A hand shot out and gripped her shirt, ripping her back onto deck-straight into Buddy's chest. His arms wrapped tightly around her, clutching her to the safety of his body as the world righted itself in his arms. Violet's own wrapped around his neck naturally, and she found her face within inches of his. His breath smelled like Jack Daniels and his bare skin was fever hot under her touch. The length of her was flush against him, soft slender form against the steel of metal and well-earned muscle.

"You okay," he asked breathless, obviously shaken from her almost going overboard.

But Violet was a little too stunned yet to speak. She nodded dumbly, eyes trained on his mouth, watching as he wet his lips and frowned. His hands slid up her back to her arms, pulling her off him and setting her on her feet. "Well, I-I think that's a tie."

The response was immediate and ill-favored-they didn't want a tie, they wanted their winnings. So with a huff, Buddy took Violet's hand and shook it. "I concede."

"Seriously," she asked. Buddy was a lot of things and none of them humble. If a simple kiss was enough to prick at his pride, she couldn't imagine what losing to an Incredible-again-would do. And yet here he was, letting go of her hand to run his own through his hair sheepishly. "You're giving up?"

"I've learned to know when I'm bested," he explained, and Violet heard pain in the words. Where was this misery coming from?

"Buddy-"

"Violet!" Dash ran straight at her, arms going around her waist and lifting her up with shocking ease. It was always a surprise to be so reminded her twerpy little brother was no longer so little. "I knew it! You were amazing!" He put her down and brandished the stack of cash he won. Apparently, the betting had continued as they fought, all or nothing style. Dash, one arm still around his sister rounded on Buddy, who had been observing the casual compadre between them with a stony expression. "I knew you'd lose-you can't beat an Incr-Parr." He quailed a little under his sister's glare. "Parr! I meant Parr!"

Buddy narrowed his eyes and Violet was sure Dash was about to get the tongue lashing of his life. The villain's face was certainly twisted with enough rage. However, once again, Violet was stunned silent as he simply stated, "I had your sister's legs around my head for a good minute. That ain't exactly a loss, kid." He turned on his heel, weaving in between the crew members crowding around to collect or pay up.

"Hey!"

Violet took her brother's shoulders and turned him towards the stairs that led below deck before he could follow and start a fight. "Go count your winnings Dash. And don't drink anything!" Violet started after Buddy, only to be stopped by her father next. He handed her the cup she had left with her mother-a little more full than before-and clapped her on the back.

"That was great, honey! You really put up a good fight-you flipped him like he weighed nothing. Maybe you got some strength from me after all!"

"Yeah…" Violet peered around her father, but Buddy had disappeared around a tower of shipping containers. She sighed, defeated for the moment. Perhaps it was best that he cool off for a bit-Dash's sloppy words had dislodged the careful emotional gauze she had tried to place on history's wound-and she'd have to fix it before they landed. But the night wasn't over yet-there was still time.

Smiling up at her father, she asked how much they won, and sipped her drink. Apparently Violet had been the only one to best Buddy, and therefore was the black horse of the competition-the bets were not in her favor, and thus more lucrative to the few who took the chance. She at least got her money back and joined her family as they stood with the few friends they had made and Captain Nestor. The morale was high, the talk was light and someone always kept her cup full.

All the while, Violet kept an eagle eye on the stairway that led below decks. When she finally saw her man emerge from the shadows heading down, she quickly made her excuses. Grabbing MacConnell's arm as she weaved through the little groups of conversion and revelry, she placed her drink in his hand and ordered, "Keep my family busy."

"Aye, aye, captain. Go get 'im."

He was halfway down the stairs when Violet caught up to him. She took his hand and tugged him back onto the deck. "Listen, princess," he started, pulling away from her. But Violet shushed him. With a buzz, their hands were encased in a shimmering violet shield. She dragged him behind her, but not back towards the crowds in the floodlights.

They weaved their way through the city of containers, the wind off the sea whipping through the alleys as Violet led him further and further away from the noise, never losing her hold. It wasn't until the laughter was barely a buzz on the breeze that she stopped, freeing their fingers.

"What are y-"

Violet placed her hands on his neck, barely enjoying the shiver under her touch as she pulled him down, her lips covering his. It was a sloppy attempt-he had tried to talk and so she really only caught his lower lip-but it was warm and soft and pliant under her mouth's pressure. Buddy didn't move, turned to stone by the very feel of her mouth on his.

Medusa her mind whispered as she pulled back, trying to read his expression. He was stunned, eyes half-lidded and glassy. It hadn't been a good kiss-but my God at least it was something.

Buddy's expression flickered, the return of that pained expression; there one moment before he seemed to shake it off. He swallowed so hard, she saw his adam's apple bob. Then, gently, he took the tie from her hair and slid it onto his wrist. That done, his hands were free to fist in her thick mane and crane her neck back, until her face was totally upturned, mouth a clear target.

He had rather good aim for a man as intoxicated as Buddy Pine. For all her sensory memories of whiskey when she thought of her lover, Violet decided she liked the taste much better on his tongue than hers.

They stumbled back, and Violet's shoulders hit the cold metal of a container, but she didn't shiver. She had warmth enough as Buddy pressed her against the rippled metal. One of his large, rough hands slid from her hair, to hold her throat, keeping her in place as he ravaged her mouth with savage abandon, plundering her passion. He nipped and bit, only to soothe her swollen mouth with achingly soft kisses that quickly only grew in fever.

He was good at this-my God a man like him should not be so good at this. His mouth was insistent but soft, his teeth nibbling without pain-only the wonderful sensation scraping against her jaw and ear and lips. Violet leaned heavily against the container as her legs started to go.

Violet's hands grabbed at his undershirt, trying to pull him close-but with every tug, he leaned back. Even when she tried to tilt her chin up to kiss him back, he decided to explore the flesh of her cheek or throat. She felt his smile on her face, tasted his grin when she gave up, and earned another kiss for her compliance. He had taken command, he had conquered this hero, and he wasn't about to share his limelight.

But Violet didn't want to play the game of heroes and villains, though it had taken such a delicious turn. There was time enough for Buddy to gain the upper hand, to play a seductive villain to her willing captive. Now, in the dark paths of this ship heading for either death or glory, Violet simply wanted to be a lover.

Her fingers tugged again at his shirt, but not to move him. She pulled the cloth from the waistband of his jeans, fingers finding the sectioned and scarred skin underneath, burning her palms on the heat of him, feeling the tension along his spine as he made love to her mouth. She traced the familiar path to his back pockets, and nearly giggled at the low groan Buddy hummed against her jaw.

If he liked that, he was in for a treat. Violet slowly followed the line of his belt before her hand dipped lower, pressing flat against him where he strained against the denim. "Ah!" She had never heard him actually gasp before-not even in pain. The metal at her back rattled as Buddy's hands fell heavily against the container, bracing his weight against the steady surface, effectively trapping her between his arms.

She looked up into his face-his eyes screwed shut in pleasure, lips parted, panting with the want. His hips canted into her touch and Violet was never more happy to let her curiosity roam free. Following his shape through the thick material, she found a slow rhythm he seemed to like, following the guidance of his low, short moans against her temple and rocking of his hips.

Free of his grasp, Violet could explore his throat and face with impunity, placing feather-light kisses against his neck, dragging her teeth gently along the bone of his jaw. Carefully, so carefully; he had so many scars from violent acts he didn't need one from loving touches as well-though a little red mark here and there couldn't hurt.

She had almost gotten her fill, enjoying how he leaned into her kisses like a cat nuzzling for more, when his fingers wrapped tightly around her wrist. Pulling her hand up, he placed a burning kiss on her palm. "Turn around, babe," he breathed in her ear. "It'll be easier that way."

His hands were at her hips to help her-but Violet shook her head. "I have a better idea."

She ducked from under his arms and crooked a finger. Oh my God, he was handsome like this-even in the dark with scant moonlight for illumination she could see how flushed he was, lidded eyes a stormy blue with desire, hair mussed and mouth swollen. He followed her slowly, more of a stalk than a stroll as she led him further into the cold storage city, she carefully walking backward, steadying herself on the metal walls that encased them.

As it had an aquatic mode, the container storing the Incredibile had been left unlocked in case of need. Violet pulled the loose chain through the door's handles, dropping it carelessly to the ground before pushing the doors open. It was pitch black inside, but once she called out, the Incredibile's headlights came to life, illuminating the space in cold light.

"Incredibile, survival mode, nocturnal."

She heard the interior shift, the seats folding up to create a flat futon-like cushioning inside. It made for a rather comfortable bed on long stakeouts she had found when accompanying her mother on the odd mission. And, she supposed, there was some kind of tradition being upheld-losing the ever-important 'it' in the backseat of a car. It was better than a desk, at least.

Opening the door, Violet slid inside, grabbing Buddy's undershirt and pulling him in with her. When the door shut behind him, the headlights flickered off, leaving the dashboard's steady sapphire light as their only guide.

Hands still holding onto the cloth of his shirt, Violet tugged upwards until he was free of the material. Her fingers were now free to roam over his shoulders and chest, her mouth quickly following. She hypothesized he had more feeling on his natural skin than the new grafts that made up his left half, and by his reaction, she was entirely correct. Theory proven, she set about covering the pink skin with even pinker marks, pulling him close until he was braced on his elbows above her, both of them laid flat against the upholstery. He was heavy, but the warm weight pressed sweetly against every curve that begged for attention.

"Buddy," she whimpered against his throat. He wasn't moving, and slowly, her liquor-clouded mind realized he wasn't responding to her at all. Looking up into his face, she saw that something had captured his attention completely.

Tilting her head, Violet followed his gaze. Tucked into one of the visors was a photo of Dash's sixteenth birthday. All he wanted to do was go to the biggest, loudest, happiest amusement park on earth. The five of them were crowded into frame, Helen wedged between her sons, Violet with her arms wrapped around her father from behind, all of them grinning at the camera. It was a mood killer, to say the least.

Reaching up, she snatched the polaroid from the visor and quickly slid it into the crack of the glove box. "Sorry," she murmured, holding his face and pulling him down for another kiss. She was sure he was getting back into it-his mouth parting easily at her insistence, hand moving to cup the back of her head as he kissed her back slow and long. But when he pulled back for breath, Buddy pulled away completely, resting his forehead against hers, panting against her lips.

"Wait."

His voice was clear and dark, and she heard agony in it.

"What-what's wrong?" Violet cupped his face in one hand, the other tracing her fingers over his furrowed brow as if touch could relieve his pain.

"Nothing. Everything." He laughed bitterly. "You're witnessing a miracle, princess. I'm trying to do something unselfish. Mark this day down in history."

Buddy pushed himself off her, sitting up and searching for his tossed undershirt. Violet followed suit, confused. "What are you doing?"

Finding the bit of cloth, he pulled it over his head, but he wasn't looking at her. "We shouldn't do this."

"Then we'll go s-"

"No. It's not doing this in the car, or out on deck that's the problem. Doing this at all is." He ran a hand over his face. "We-I-need to stop."

Violet felt her face flush. "Did I...touch you wrong? Did it bring up memories? I tried to be gentle-"

"No!" Finally he swung to face her. In the low light, she saw the pain contorting his expressive face, belying his words. "No, all of that was... you're fantastic. But we shouldn't start something we can't finish."

"I don't understa-"

"Yes, you do." Buddy frowned. "You understand what I'm talking about Violet. You know this won't work."

The words hit her in the chest harder than any punch. Where was this coming from? Just a few days ago they were so simpatico, both understanding the other. "No, I don't know anything like that. Listen, I know you hate my family Buddy, but I've been-"

"Hate? Princess-I'm the devil to them. I'm evil incarnate, I'm everything wrong with the world wrapped up in one punchable package." He shook his head, sliding away from her. "Listen-it's not that I don't want you-I think you know first hand how much I do. But I'm trying to be..." His arm crossed the distance he created to touch her face. "I'm taking after you-trying to do what's right, for once. And 'us' isn't right."

Violet shrugged off his arm, shaking her head. She felt like her very bones were crumbling inside her, leaving her shaky and formless, a quivering venerable mass of organs and sorrow. This was the agony she had seen in his face before-the sadness that had accompanied the sight of her. How could he say something so monstrously untrue? How could they not be right when it was the 'they' that kept them alive enough to debate it? How could he just dismiss all that they were?

"And this is right? Breaking my heart is right?"

She knew it would have been difficult, nearly impossible, but Violet had assumed...she had assumed stupidly that he'd be willing to fight with her. She had banked on his tenacity and pride-that once she had given him an inch he'd run a mile with her. Hell, she'd even banked on his stupid sense of humor-at getting Mr. Incredible's daughter-to keep him close enough for her to stitch his twenty-three-year-long wound.

"I'm trying to save it," he snapped. "Goddamnit, what do you think is going to happen? Your dad and I can barely stand being near each other. We can't even share a glance, do you think he's going to share his daughter?"

"This isn't about my father!"

"Yes, it is, Violet!"

Buddy shouted so loudly, it made Violet recoil for the first time in months-for the first time since their escape. But he didn't seem to care. He'd already started the incision, and he was going to follow through with the cut. "It's about him and your mom and your brothers! You're a part of them. You're theirs, they're yours and you will never turn on your family, remember? You're an Incredible, a super, and I am not. Our worlds or paths or whatever you want to call it might have crossed now but that's it. There's nothing out there for us even if I survive this because you will always be the hero, it's in your literal blood, and I…" He couldn't say the word, even now Buddy couldn't condemn himself to that role. "It would come down to it-and you would have to choose. And it won't be me."

"And what if I do?!"

He shut his eyes, turning from her, grinding out the words harshly to mask how his voice shook. "And then you really would hate me. I'd be your enemy all over again. So it's better this way. We can't avoid the inevitable."

Violet fell back against the door, shaking and sick. It was as if he was a stranger to her-who was this man who was so easily giving up? Where was the bullheaded genius who insisted on pushing forward, going faster, further; who had escaped a fire, a lab, slavery, and the law with such ease and humor? Was loving her more impossible than escaping a mad man and eluding an entire organization of superhumans?

"What happened to your hope," she spat.

Buddy gave her a bitter laugh and deigned to look at her again. But his glare was dark-there was still fight in him. Just not for me. "It's killing me. You're a doctor, can't you tell when you're looking at a dead man?"

"I saved you!" She lunged forward, slapping her palm over the scar that was still vivid red on his chest and pressing. There was no heartbeat, but there was breath in him. There was life, so why was he throwing it away? "I saved you and you're alive. God damnit Buddy, act like it!"

Buddy grabbed her wrists, shaking her hard. "I'm not alive, Violet! This isn't living! Sneaking around, and hiding, planning, and masks isn't a life! It's going to come down to either Fell or me, and even if it's me, I don't have what you have-I can never give you that. I can't give you this!"

He reached over to the glove box where the corner of the photo was still sticking out. His tug ripped it slightly as he waved it in front of her face. A white jagged cut bisected the little family, separating Violet and her father from the rest, hanging on by just a few fibers of paper.

"I can't give you what you want! Every family I've ever tried to make, ever hoped for I've destroyed, can't you understand that? That's what I am! It's in my code."

Violet took the polaroid carefully, thumb brushing against the tear he had created in her family. And she didn't have anything on her to repair it.

Buddy's shoulders slumped. "I'm s…Listen, I'm drunk and you're half in the bag too, and they've probably noticed we're gone. Your mom barely saw us together and threatened to cut off my equipment, I don't know what she'll do if she finds us here."

Tears crowded her eyes, but Violet didn't want to cry-she was so goddamn sick of tears. Even sitting here, tangled up in the threads she had tried so desperately to weave as they unraveled by the second, she refused to cry. It was a losing battle, as the tell-tale prick in her eyes and nose were warning her. There was only one way to stave off the sobbing: anger.

She hurt, she hurt so badly. It was as if he had reached into her heart and cut out his place there-and only when missing did Violet realize how much Buddy owned of it. And he sat there, looking at her with his pleading blue eyes, trying to get her to understand, to agree, watching the happiness and joy that was theirs bleed out, watching it die.

Well, she didn't understand and she would never agree. But he was right about one thing-she wasn't as coherent as she ought to be for such a fight. So instead of arguing, Violet lashed out-wanting him to hurt as much as she did. If they couldn't have love together, at least they could at least share pain.

"I take it back," Violet growled, glaring at him through the part in her hair. "You're an excellent villain, Buddy."

The arrow hit its mark, and she saw the splintering cracks from his heart spread over his face. Like found like as rage replaced resignation. He was out of the car the next moment, slamming the door so hard it made the suspensions rock dangerously in a cold mockery of what she had planned just moments before.

The only satisfaction she got that night was that the vehicle was so well insulated, no one heard her wailing cries as Violet exsanguinated loneliness, holding her heart as if touch alone could stem the hurting.