I hope everyone has had a very merry and safe Christmas, as well as a Happy New Year!

Chapter XXIV

Days of the Asphodel Meadows

Violet woke smiling.

She also woke rather toasty, though she barely had any blanket draped over her, having kicked it off in the night. Her personal heater was flush against her back, his breath tickling her ear. Buddy was deep asleep and pure dead weight, an arm tucked securely around her hips, their legs tangled. It seemed she was going nowhere, and thus contented herself to waiting, turning as much as she could to lay on her back in his embrace.

And she couldn't stop smiling. It was ridiculous. There wasn't much to smile about. They still had to prepare for a fight, monsters still lurked just outside their forest, and only a few thin walls separated their affair from the wrath of a very protective and strong father. Their future was uncertain, there was still blood to shed, and a day of being a lab rat stretched out in front of her.

And Violet still felt like laughing-love-drunk on victory. She understood how the previous generation–how Buddy–could become addicted to the feeling. Even though the trial of capturing Fell loomed dark and ominous over her head, Violet couldn't find her worry and strife even if she tried.

So she didn't, and firmly shut the door on the dark anxiety that tried to crawl along the walls of her mind.

Instead, her fingers lazily followed the veins on the talented hand that lay flat against her belly, feeling the strong structure underneath the flesh. Maybe she had been a little dismissive of Kari whenever she boasted about her forays into the free love movement. Not that Violet was all that free with her love, as the emotion was her one and only stipulation. But once that was satisfied...well, so was she.

Violet's grin widened and she turned her head slightly to observe Buddy's sleeping face. He must have been content when she finished with him, considering how fast he fell asleep. Then again, Violet hadn't been quick about it. The vision of proud, stubborn Buddy Pine reduced to moans and monosyllabic cries had been fascinating. Violet had treated him almost like a lab experiment-testing caresses and bites and kisses and observing the reactions. Of course, she hadn't been nearly as detached as a good scientist ought to be...

Her free hand traced the strong line of his jaw, nails lightly scratching the stubble. Violet wasted much of the dawn simply watching him, committing how Buddy looked when he was finally at peace to memory, sure this opportunity was fleeting enough. Despite his claimed advanced age, Violet liked to think she could see some of the young man that was still under there, buried beneath metal and bitterness; that trickster of a boy who broke through in his cocky grins and sly jokes before the scarred man returned to take his place. Hatred and frustration didn't harden the planes of his face yet, and there was no curve of sarcastic malice to his lips. Her thumb passed over his mouth, the soft bottom lip that was still a little swollen from her teeth. Violet leaned forward to place a healing kiss-

"Am I going to have to deal with you this happy, this early, every morning?"

Buddy's hand captured her fingers that had been tracing his wrist, cracking open one eye, the blue nearly translucent in the dawn light. Violet huffed against his lips. "Isn't that a good thing, after last night?"

He nudged her nose with his own. "I suppose-only if I get rave reviews."

"What, do you want an analysis?"

"Maybe." Buddy's voice was all metal in the morning. His hand slid up over her belly and chest, speaking against her cheek, mouth traveling lazily to her ear. "Subject proved most virile and enduring-"

"Virile! Oh my God, Buddy."

"Obviously well experienced and focused. Experiment concluded with multiple satisfactory results-"

"You just want to be showered in compliments."

"-Believe me, princess, you gave me more than enough of those. Oh, oh please!" Violet would have pinched him for his mimicking had he not focused on nibbling softly on her earlobe rather than continuing his teasing. She forgot any natural modesty about the responses he had been able to pull from her. After all, she had reaped some of her own.

"You weren't exactly Mr. Stoic either," she breathed, eyes sliding shut.

"When you have a gorgeous woman on you like a triple crown jockey, it's not exactly the time to be coy."

Buddy dropped a kiss on her shocked, open mouth, before rolling over and perching on the edge of the bed. He stretched his arms over his head, and Violet saw the red trails her nails had left on his back stretch with him-more prominent on the left side than right. Reaching up, she gingerly touched the scores. "You need to disinfect these-do they hurt?"

"They sting like hell." He stood in full monty, a proud grin twisting his lips. "It's fantastic."

"Let me-"

"No way. These are battle scars and I'm keeping them. Add them to my collection. C'mon, we have work to do." With a firm pat to her hip, he went searching for his clothes, gathering her nightdress and underwear from the floor and tossing them into the hamper.

Violet sat up, immediately wincing. There hadn't been pain like she had expected-just an awkward sort of discomfort that stung a little. But Buddy was heavy and his skeleton was certainly more sturdy than hers. She hadn't minded in the moment, but was glad to have the bottle of painkillers easily at hand this morning. Tossing two back with a dry swallow, she called out, "How are you going to leave? Buddy…?"

But there wasn't an answer. And when she got up to search the bathroom, wrapped tightly in the comforter, he was gone. How…?

The house has multiple exits, that's how their home in Metroville, Buddy's American house, had been described. Apparently, that was another hallmark of his designs. Violet huffed, a little affronted as she gingerly made her way across the bathroom floor to the shower. She knew he wasn't sentimental, or even sweet. But she had wanted a little longer with him-perhaps a real good morning kiss or a joint bath. Talk about wham, bam, thank you, ma'am.

Shaking off the surprise, Violet caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror. His bite had faded as she slept, thankfully. Nothing a sweatshirt couldn't cover-up. Her hair however was a different story-a total rat's nest. Maybe she should have kept her mane up. She'd know for next time.

After detangling her locks and a quick shower, Violet dressed for activity, nothing but bike pants and a sports bra under her sweatshirt. Now that Buddy had his beloved lab, she was sure he was going to work her harder than Fell had ever ordered him to. He wasn't just exploring now-he had a goal in mind. And Violet would be lying if she claimed she wasn't excited to show off, especially with all the practice she had committed to at home.

Downs stairs found a sight far less ready for the day. Dash sat at the dining room table, head clutched in his hands. When their father placed a plate in front of him, the clink of the porcelain on wood made the boy groan and curl away. Mirage, who was pouring over a file as she ate, was trying desperately not to laugh.

"Well that will teach you, won't it," Bob was saying, sparing a good morning for his daughter.

"Did he hurl," Violet asked, playfully tugging at her brother's golden locks, snickering when he weakly batted at her fingers.

"Not yet. Eat your toast, Dash, it'll help. Sit, Vi, I'll bring you out something."

Mirage flipped a page in her file. "Better be quick. They're already downstairs bickering."

"Bickering? What about, it's barely seven!"

"Who knows." Without lifting her head, Mirage's eyes flickered to Violet. "I guess they both woke up on the wrong side of the bed." The silver-haired woman was having a laugh at two Parr children, it seemed.

Well, that's not possible. Buddy was plenty cheery leaving her room with all due haste. She was still sore about being denied more time in their afterglow. "I think they just like to argue."

"Whatever they do, they do it well. I wouldn't be surprised if they have some gadget already half-built down there. The door is already keyed into your prints, the big one by the theater."

Violet accepted the plate her father handed her and ate with perhaps a little more gusto than necessary. Watching Dash gag and cover his eyes was too funny not to pass up, especially when she asked if he would like a bite of her pancake slathered with syrup.

"Vi, C'mon now. You're a doctor. You're supposed to be sympathetic," her mother chastised as she took her place at the table, though perhaps with less enthusiasm than usual.

"This is why doctors can't treat their family," she pointed out, humming around her bite of pancake.

Helen shook her head. "Are you going to be okay down there?"

"Sure, why wouldn't I be? I didn't drink until puking last night."

"I meant being in a lab again."

Violet's fork hesitated halfway to her mouth. She hadn't thought about that. But...surely it wouldn't be the same? Not even Syndrome on the island had been as sadistic as the doctor had been, but it would be the same position: lab rat. Her stomach churned dangerously at the thought. Helen passed a hand over her braided hair. "Come right up if you start feeling bad, okay? Don't push yourself."

"She'll be okay honey," her father soothed. "She's an expert at taking that brat in hand by now."

Mirage coughed into her teacup, patting her chest to cover her laugh. Violet could have thrown her plate at her. "I wouldn't say that, Dad-"

"I would. Look how well you handled him last night."

Violet was sure that her face was going to light into flames at any moment. "I-las-I didn't do anything-"

"Well all I know was he was having a right fit before you when reconnoitering, and last night he was damn near pleasant, give or take the boasting." Bob patted the table beside her plate. "You're a good commander, Vi, I keep telling you. Keep us all in line. You didn't have to spend any extra time with him, but you did. That's the hallmarks of a real leader."

Not like it was much of a burden, he did the bulk of the work. Violet drained her glass of orange juice. "Yeah-uh-thanks, Dad. What-um-what are you going to do up here?"

"Your father is going to help me with the blueprints of the building and the other information you brought back from the hotel," Mirage said, finally closing her file.

Violet raised a brow. "For what?"

"We have a general plan, but the terms of execution are still murky-how we will split up and backups in case things go haywire. I don't doubt your...charms," and here she didn't work very hard to hide her smirk, "but I want a second way to get you and Buddy into that room if Dr. Jang doesn't take the bait."

Violet wiped the corner of her mouth free of syrup, hoping it would cover her blush. "I mean, either way, we get into the room with Fell and you trip the virus, what else is there to do?"

Her father shook her head over his coffee mug. "What about actually getting into the control room to implant the virus, who will go and how will they get there? And the guards, when do they patrol? The night shifts might be different from their morning or event patterns, not to mention what Fell might bring with him–I know it doesn't say anything on the main list, but there might be a clue in the rest of the data. Who are they and how will they set up? Private bodyguards maneuver differently than say a hired guard squad. And that's not even touching on the woman you mentioned–and we can't discount him bringing Echo. Not to mention the layout of the place might be pretty complex-we don't want to get lost mid-mission, and we will need escape routes when we get Fell."

She had been so focused on taking the bulk of this mission on her own shoulders, Violet almost forgot that her family was in fact not the dead weight Buddy continually accused of them being. She hadn't even considered Echo wandering around the party, looking for them. Her stomach started to reject the heavy meal she just consumed.

Perhaps her parents might need to adjust their outlook when it came to who were villains, but their skills were no myth. They had years of experience on everyone in the house, and for all his bold moves her father had a strategic mind, one Mirage seemed to approve of if her smile was any proof.

"Mr. Incredible has extensive experience in infiltrating buildings," she praised.

"He's not the only one," Helen sniffed. "I got into your facility just fine."

"Both outlooks will help a lot," Mirage amended.

Violet was suddenly very glad she'd be below stairs and out of this particular stalemate. "Infiltrate, like when you saved Dinaguy, Dad?"

Bob nudged his wife, with a grin. "See, I told you someone listens to my stories! Yeah, honey-like that."

Violet gave him a tight smile and wondered if she should let slip that it was Buddy who remembered it, and she herself, not at all. Standing she collected her plate and dumped it in the kitchen sink. "I should probably head down now."

"Don't let him ride you down there Vi, you put your foot down," her mother told her. "And take plenty of breaks!"

She pressed her palms into her eyes. Oh, today was going to be long. Maybe they ought to have gotten more sleep. If that was what she was in for from the uninformed parties she could only imagine how Tweedle Dee and Dum were going to act about it, with their combined maturity rating about the same as a thirteen-year-old.

Violet, however, was proved wrong once she entered what looked like a boardroom through the lab's heavy metal door. Neither Liam nor Buddy seemed to take notice of her. Instead, they were squared off on either side of the long glass table covered in plans, notepads, and papers, bickering. Mac was sporting a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, gesturing wildly with a white pencil over a half sketched blueprint. Buddy had a hand flat against a glass whiteboard, smart in a button-down and slacks, accusing with his own marker.

"I'm not saying it's not possible, goddamnit! I'm saying we don't have the time, Pine! We have the smithy outside, whatever robotics haven't jammed from lack of oiling and some ore, and that's it!"

"So we're going to use half of it and make, what? Something that won't even stand up to being pulled too roughly! If we go with the alloy, we can make it both invisible and tough."

"Where the hell do you think we're going to create a whole new alloy?! If you haven't noticed we don't have an excess supply of liquified rock anymore!"

Buddy waved a hand and returned to his scribblings on the board. "I'm not fighting with you anymore, I'm not debating the possibilities of chemistry with someone who got marks off their essay answers because they ended sentences with prepositions." Liam scribbled on a scrap paper and threw it at the back of Buddy's head. The engineer grumbled and bent, unfolding the paper. "'Off' is a preposition too, jackass."

Violet carefully cleared her throat, edging around them like she would two snapping tigers. "Um, is there a problem?"

"He's a wank stain," Liam muttered, taking a ruler and returning to his drawing. "He's got more than metal crawlin' up his arse."

Buddy rolled his eyes. "We've come to an impasse. I think if we can pinpoint just what your invisibility does to the light, we can make a metal that reacts the same to stimuli without you directly touching it."

"But what he doesn't want to realize is that creating new materials take time," Liam growled. "And we don't have our chem team. We can calculate it all we want but the reality is delicate balances that take a lot of trial and error. I suggested we try to mimic your power with a netting that would cast a field-like cover to create the invisibility since he thinks it's another type of shield."

"One break in the chain of that netting and it destabilizes the field, so explain to me how that is better."

"Because the net is not limited to what we build! We can use it on anything!"

"Anything out of the line of fire, which is all we will be under!"

"I'm-it's not-I don't think we should be focusing on invisibility in any case! Her shields are nearly impenetrable, you said so yourself!"

"Her shields are more organic-and you just said we don't have the chem lab! Besides, why would we need it if they couldn't see us? They can't hit what they can't see!"

Violet by this time had carefully taken a seat at the table, glancing between their tennis match of an argument. "All this screaming before you even know how it all works," she commented.

Both engineers paused, blinking balefully at her "We were just killin' time till you woke up," Liam muttered. "Who's screaming?"

"Yeah, we were just talking, princess."

How these two managed to build a battle robot that flattened half a city was beyond her.

"Besides it's a damn sight better than how I found him! He was practically whistlin'." Liam leaned closer to her with a smirk. "Tonight, just say you have a headache, hm?"

Well, there was the teasing she had been expecting. She stood up, narrowing her eyes at the scott, as Buddy came around the table towards her. "But now that you're here we can finally get down to the real work."

Violet half expected him to take her by the shoulder and plant his mouth on hers, even tilting her chin up slightly. It would be the type of thing for him to do, boldly and obnoxiously proving his claim in front of his friend in response to his remark. Though Violet rankled a bit at the notion of being 'claimed', she'd let him have his delusion if only to have another one of those delicious kisses. But all he did was gently move her out of the way and open the door to the main laboratory, waiting for her to follow.

Buddy the Lover had left on cupid's wings with the dawn. During the daylight hours, she was about to get a long-overdue reintroduction to Buddy the Scientist.

The lab was cavernous, and she wasted a good ten minutes wandering about like a child in a museum. At one point she even took Buddy by the sleeve, pulling him away from the computer desk in front of the glass containment chamber and dragging him to various machinery, demanding to know just what it did. If Edna's sewing room had been impressive this was majestic.

"I'll answer all your questions–after," Buddy snapped, shaking loose. In his hand, he held what looked like wireless EKG sensors. "C'mon we have to get started sometime. Off with the hoodie."

Violet sighed and stripped off the sweatshirt. He placed the sensors on her shoulders, belly, arms, and two on her temples before steering her towards the chamber. As the glass parted, she heard the hiss of pressure, the door swinging open from what had been perfectly smooth seamless glass. The hissing of the doors retracting from a flawless white wall, the thud of boots, the pain of tranq darts piercing her flesh. Binds and blinding white, the taste of whiskey on her tongue, the flash of emergency lights, her body unable to move, and somewhere White Rabbit echoes distantly.

"Princess?"

Violet swallowed and tried to force her mind to file through the memories quickly so they would finally release her from their snare, but it was like running through wet sand. The effort made her head hurt, and she pressed a finger to her temple, unable to move her eyes from the doorway, or her feet towards it. "I'm good." But she made no effort to step into the glass containment.

A too warm hand rested on her shoulder. "Look at your wrist."

Violet did so, and then curiously up at her lover.

"No bracelet?"

"Obviously."

"That proves you're not there. You're here." His own fingers ghosted over his neck free of white metal, a thumb running along the black chain of his necklace. "No bracelet, no shocks. You can come out when you like, just shout. Get it?"

She swallowed, placing her hand over his on her shoulder. You're here. And if we're together, we're safe. I'm safe. "Got it."

"Good." His hand squeezed her shoulder. Then slid down to boldly cup her bottom before landing a smack there that echoed in the lab with a loud crack. "In ya go."

Violet squeaked, and rubbed the sting, but was too slow to land a slap of her own on his arm. She didn't expect him to gush, but it wasn't exactly the recognition she was looking for.

Grumbling, she stepped into the chamber, the door hissing shut, once again creating an illusion of a perfectly uncut glass square. She could see everything going on, unlike the OR and Fell's lab, and while white was the predominant color, the grey of metal and multicolored lights of the various machines broke it up. That and the red hair of her smirking Buddy. Violet took a deep breath. Besides, it was hard to feel claustrophobic in such a vast space.

Liam whistled. "Did you go into the forest and fight a bear, lass?"

"Huh?"

He smirked and gestured to her belly. "You're bruised."

Violet glanced down and immediately turned red. There, right on her hips, peeking over the band of the tight bicycle pants were the faint imprints of fingers-already faded and yellowish, like the nearly healed love bite on her throat. Damnit, Buddy. "No. Did have to hogtie a pig, though."

The scott snickered as Buddy's self-satisfied smirk dissolved into a sudden, embarrassed coughing fit. "Well at least someone's managing to have fun on this mission."

The love pat and comments were the last mentions of any affectionate overtones. Once they began recording, the work ruled in both Buddy and Liam. They knew exactly what they wanted from her and they were determined to get it, running her through paces: Invisibility, fast, slow, certain body parts. They shut off the fluorescents and bathed her in different lights while she was invisible, then ultrasonic waves at different frequencies, trying to disrupt her power any way they could.

After that were shields and spheres in different thicknesses; make one fast, make one appear slow, as small as you can, make one as big as you can, can you make on through the glass (sort of, but it made her temples throb trying to push her shield through the transparent aluminum, dense as it was), can you make one in the room you can't see by 'feeling' the air (surprisingly yes, but more head ache)?

Once they were done with the basics she finally began to show off, lifting various machinery with her newly toned 'muscle' (though after a half-hour she had to stop before her eyes felt like they might bleed). They piled various office supplies onto a flat shield and watched her filter out only specific ones, though it still wasn't as accurate as she would like.

She even showed them a trick she had nearly mastered, creating small shields one after the other, stepping on them just long enough to hop to the next one as she brought it forth. It was a delicate balance of weight and timing as she could only produce one shield at a time, but she easily scaled the glass wall all the way up to the ceiling with her flickering staircase. What ruined the effect slightly was missing the shield she created to lower her back down, and tumbling in free fall for a second. She created a sphere that suspended her within and winced slightly when it landed on the floor of the chamber.

Still, Liam looked like his heart was about to beat from his chest. Buddy, however, was regarding her with a curious look. "You're suspending gravity?"

"Yeah. Sometimes I don't notice I do it, but only me. If I have someone else in here they're grounded, like when we ran from the lab; I floated then, too, but you stayed on the ground. I've tried it with objects too, just one at a time."

"I wonder if you could levitate without a shield if you narrowed in how you're doing it."

"I never tried."

"Wa-"

"Did you both miss how she nearly died," Liam cried, looking between them like they were speaking gibberish.

Buddy gestured vaguely as he began writing on his notepad. "She's fine, look at her."

"I'm fine," Violet chirped. "Happens a lot, I'm used to it."

All the scott could do was collapse backwards into his chair covering his face with his hands. "...Is she really disrupting gravity," came his muffled question a minute later.

"It looks like it. Hey-if you can do that, why bother trying to lift with your shields? I mean it's good, you're moving them faster because you've been exercising that way, but can't you just wrap your shields around an object and levitate it?"

Violet considered. "I suppose. If it was a car or something, it'd have to be pretty large and I've never…" But Mom I've never done one that big before! "I've never really experimented with spheres covering that much distance." She wondered if, when she was older and her time was almost done, the memories of terror would ever be outnumbered by those of joy. As Buddy came to the invisible door, she decided she at least had a good chance of it now.

"We can try it later. I don't want you bleeding from the ears with the effort. You should head back up."

"But we just got started."

"Just?" He offered her the hand that bore his watch. It was almost one in the afternoon-they'd spent seven hours observing and gathering data. He returned to his desk and began tapping away at his computer. "Take off the sensors and go eat, prove to them we haven't tried turning you into the six million dollar woman."

Violet peeled the disks from her skin, peering over Buddy's shoulder at their work. They had already gone through several note pads filled with numbers and symbols she couldn't follow. On Buddy's papers, he had begun to draw diagrams of her with notes-though the image of her in the corner redoing her ponytail didn't seem to have much scientific purpose.

On the monitors before him, he had two videos up and was in the process of slowing them to a crawl. He matched up one clip of her creating a shield with another of her slowly turning invisible, the power crawling up her flesh. Once he had them synched how he wanted, he began playing them back and forth, back and forth, nose practically touching the screen as he leaned forward, chin in his palm.

"Do you want me to bring you two lunch?"

"No need, lass, we'll be just fine," Liam said with a smile, shuffling through a few of his calculations.

"Buddy?"

"Unn."

The two brunettes glanced at each other. "I'm guessin' that's a 'no', too."

Violet shrugged and leaned over her lover to put the sensors on the desk. His fingers shot out and caught her wrist, pressing her hand to his mouth without ever turning from his work; not really a kiss, more of an even distracted pressure. The gesture, though small, was so unexpectedly sweet her chest ached. The jerk. Violet lingered a moment, her free hand playing with a few locks of crimson hair. She brushed his bangs out of his eyes. "Buddy?"

"Mm."

"Food?"

"Mm-mm."

"Alright. I'll leave you to it then." She gently combed her fingers through his hair one last time, nails gliding down the back of his neck. Satisfied with his shiver, Violet finally pulled away and gathered her sweatshirt.

Upstairs, Violet quickly grabbed a water bottle and a piece of fruit from the kitchen before following the voices to the library. This room was far less sleek and silver compared to the rest of the house. It was warm with plush carpeting, and thick cherry wood bookshelves stuffed with tomes. A long wooden table dominated the middle of the room and overstuffed armchairs were seated right by the all-glass window letting in plenty of sunlight. A warm invitation to break from the nonstop work the manor's master was burdened with, just like the theater.

And it would have been very pleasant had her family not littered most of the shelves in papers. A map of Tokyo and large spreads of the blueprints of Hotel Ambrosia, along with the key player portraits that had hung on the safe house kitchen back in America. The table was covered with another level of blueprints, already decorated in arrows and marks, her father standing over it, glasses perched on his nose and fingers stained with ink from his fountain pen. Helen was beside him, dragging her finger along one of the passageways, talking softly.

Mirage stood in the back near a printer ensconced in the wooden wall, catching the freshly worded pages as they fell. "Still alive?"

"Surprising, isn't it?" Violet peered over the papers, reading some of her father's markings. "How is it going up here?"

Bob pushed his glasses up to rest on his head. "You want the good news or bad news first, honey?"

She groaned. "Really? Good news."

Her father turned and tapped the drawing of Jang pinned up next to Fell. "Mirage printed out the first half of the database you got yesterday and in that was the protocol surrounding Fell's presentation. Seems that those with an invite were gifted golden coins as tickets to enter. We can lift a few off of the attendees if we need to. It might cause a ruckus though once people discover they're missing, so getting Jang to sneak us in is still the first best option. Which-" Bob waved a hand, "is no problem, you'll be fine. Who wouldn't want to spend an evening with the prettiest girl in the room?"

Violet, who had long ago accepted she would never figure out a way to take a compliment, hid her blush by smiling. Even in the midst of planning their most dangerous family mission, her father would never fail to brag about his kids. "Great...so how bad is the bad news?"

"Tanaka is going to have his son-in-law and his men acting as secondary security in the event. That, and Fell's got his own guards," Helen said.

"I thought–"

"It's not officially reported, but Syndrome also downloaded all the logs from the security team, recordings of official conversations. They were talking about it–Russian, from what he reported to the hotel staff."

"Why would they keep that off the books?"

"Maybe Tanaka doesn't want to be caught looking like he's consorting with the Kremlin. There's not a lot of political trust with Japan still. Either way, Fell will be closely guarded going in and coming out. So we're going to have to keep him in without his aide."

"But the unidentified woman," Violet reminded, recalling the girl and her white super suit. She shivered, thinking about Fell mastering his craft in creating superhumans, and the methods in which he did it. "But if she really is a super he made, maybe she's as much a prisoner as B-as Syndrome was." She took a long drink of her water bottle to cover her flub.

"We could turn her against him," Bob agreed.

Helen was already shaking her head. "But that would mean exposing our cover. Maybe, if the opportunity arises-but I don't want anyone seeking her out. If she does have powers, she's our biggest threat. Until we know better we treat her as if she were as volatile as Fell and none of us can afford distraction, especially if Echo shows up. He knows us, our methods, and most importantly our faces. Covert is our best option."

Father and daughter nodded, deferring to her sound judgment of the situation. "Anything else?"

"No weapons inside the building," Mirage stated, coming over with her stack. "At least, no guns, no lasers, no bombs. They left out blades, which I assume is just housekeeping-No one would be happy with the yakuza having blades and them being unarmed."

Mr. Incredible tapped the blueprint of the outside of the hotel with the end of his pen. "But the guards outside will have guns. Good thing is, because they've got their back to the forest, they've front-loaded the roof facing towards the city. The best exit strategy is through the back where their surveillance is weakest-but that means going through the staff rooms, with the off-duty guards and cameras. Fine, if the virus creates a commotion in the ballrooms and knocks out the cameras, tricky if we don't get that far."

"We'll have our suits."

"Not all of us," Mirage reminded her. "And only you have shields unless Laurel and Hardy come up with something. I'm sure you can protect yourselves, but still–all it takes is one bullet to the back of the head. Besides, I've already looked over the clothes Mode gave us. We'll have to do some interesting pinning for you and your mother to wear your suits under those gowns. That or you'll have to go without and rely on the boys to cover us."

Violet scowled. She hadn't thought about that. They relied so much on Edna's armor, it was almost like a power within itself, and they would feel handicapped without it. Just one more thing they had taken for granted. "Great."

"Hey." Her father gently bumped her chin. "We'll figure it out. And we already have a backup plan. Don't worry, kid, we still got a few days to think of something."

She nodded and tried to let his easy confidence infect her. Forcing a smile, she hooked her arm through his and told him to begin explaining his other ideas for exit strategies.

The rest of the day was devoted to memorizing their identities, as Dash was still too out of commission for anything else. Mirage had kept it as close to the truth as possible after altering a few to fit the way their team was splitting up. Helen was the wife of some powerful investor far too busy to accompany her and her son (Dash) at Mr. Pine's invitation, but would be accompanied by her husband's assistant (Mirage) and their security guard (MacConnell). It was the best way to give Liam an out to go sneaking in the back rooms to implant the virus whilst the A team attended Fell's conference. And with the stolen guard uniform he had a seamless way to blend into a panicking crowd.

Bob was a wealthy insurance company CEO, something Mr. Incredible accepted with some chagrin, whilst Violet would be Dr. Cassandra Sternin, Mr. Pine's 'particular' friend, which caused her father even more chagrin. Cassandra however was an endocrinologist, an excuse to bring up Fell and his project to Dr. Jang. Violet, already on her surgery track, wished desperately for some of her books now sitting and gathering dust in her old room so she could refresh her knowledge but figured with everyone blitzed out of their minds, what she could scrape together from the memory of her classes would be enough to pass.

Liam joined them for a very late dinner and was caught up on their progress, making note of their issues and already making a list of gadgets that might aid their problems. He came alone, however, stating that Buddy was still too involved in the lab to break for food. By the time everyone was giving up trying to cram any more information and went to bed, he had still not appeared.

"I'll bring him something and head up," Violet excused herself, taking the leftovers and piling them on a plate, bidding everyone a good night.

Buddy was in the boardroom again, seated at the long table with his head in his hands, a pen rocking back and forth between two fingers as he thought. Violet placed the plate on one of the computer desks in the corner, next to the turntable that was crooning Strange Magic. She smiled at the familiar sight, though this one was much nicer than the old mint green contraption now ashes somewhere in Massachusetts.

"Buddy?"

"..."

"Buddy, I brought you food."

He didn't look up.

"It's really good-and it's still warm. Come and eat."

He sighed and made a large X over the problem he had been contemplating, sliding the paper to the floor and pulling a different pad to him. He started over again, muttering under his breath.

"Buddy, seriously, it's like ten o'clock and you haven't eaten all day. Everyone's fed and gone to bed." Still no response. "And if you'd looked up once in a while you'd see I'm completely naked but I guess that doesn-"

"Don't tease me like that," he said without glancing up. "Or at least make good on your threat."

Violet smirked. Of course that worked. "Oh, well, I'm glad you finally noticed me."

"Noticed? I've been staring at your image all goddamn day. Isn't that what all broads want?"

"Broads, huh? Well, this dame is tired. Eat and go to bed, okay?" Feeling that she'd get nothing out of the scientist now that he was reunited with his first true love, Violet turned to go. As she reached the door, turning the wheel handle, a hand shot out and shut the heavy metal with a ringing slam.

"What, no dessert?" His breath was warm in her ear, sending a few loose strands of hair to tickle her cheek. She had forgotten how fast he was now. Violet turned, pressing herself back against the door.

"That's what finally got you away from all this?" She gestured to the desk behind him.

Buddy moved closer, closing the gap between them. His arm bent and he leaned a forearm on the door above her head. "No. I'm just wondering..." His fingers plucked at her sweatshirt strings. "Are you volunteering to be that course?"

Violet felt heat pool in her belly, the image of his claret head buried between the pale columns of her thighs floating up immediately. She could almost feel how his lips had glided over her legs and belly…

It was just not fair that she had to practically threaten him with a striptease just to get his attention, but he could pull the chord of desire as easily as plucking a harp string. Violet rolled her eyes and tried to act unaffected-a hard act to pull off seeing as her breathing was a little labored and she was using the door to hold herself up, knees going a little weak.

"Oh come on, princess. Don't tell me you didn't like when I-"

"I didn't say that!" She was sure her face was completely pink by now, and the octave she had just hit probably didn't help.

Buddy's grin widened, putting his sharp canines on display. "That is so goddamn adorable. So you did like it. Want a second showing?"

Violet tried to look away, but his hand came up, gently holding her throat, thumb forcing her to face him again. Her fingers closed over his wrist, curiosity breaking through desire. "Why do you do that? Go for the neck like that?"

He hesitated only a moment. "I like feeling your heartbeat."

Violet thought she might actually cry and ruin the whole mood. "Oh...do...do you miss it? A heartbeat?"

Buddy lifted a shoulder. "Not really. It's weird but I've adapted. Besides-I like yours better. I like feeling it speed up when I'm close. When I kiss you and when I talk about what I'm going to do to you." As he spoke, he leaned in until his lips hovered millimeters from hers. They brushed as he spoke "There it goes: I can feel it racing. Here…" His free hand moved from the door and slid under her sweatshirt, palm hot against her breast through her sports bra. "And here. There's another place too." He slid a leg between her knees. Instinctively Violet titled her hips until she pressed herself against his thigh. It was sweet relief and an awful tease all at once, especially when she felt him firm against her hip.

Violet tilted her chin up and nearly tried to bite him when he pulled back enough to deny her a kiss. "Are we going up or what?" She didn't even care how breathless she sounded, or how she had to sit gingerly all day, still sore in the hips; she wanted him badly. It was worse than before, knowing he was here for the taking rather than desiring him fruitlessly for months. The accessibility heightened her want.

"Up? What's wrong with right here?" Without preamble he let her go, arms wrapping around her hips and hoisting her up. With a surprised squeak, Violet immediately grasped at his shoulders as he carried her to the table. He didn't waste too much time shoving papers out of the way before setting her down and starting to tug off her sneakers.

"Wait-wait, someone might come down!"

"Didn't you say they all went to bed," Buddy pointed out, tugging at her pants next.

Violet didn't resist, instead leaned back on her hands to lift her hips and let him slide the garment off. She pressed her thighs together before he could step between them. "Yeah, but they might hear us if they come down for anything."

"I don't think so-the lab's soundproofed. All the rooms are, if I want them to be. How do you think no one heard your squealing last night?"

Violet glared at him, angrier that she hadn't questioned it herself before now than at his tease. Neither of them were quiet lovers, and Buddy made his opinion about her explorations quite known into the small hours of the morning. "Oh…"

"If it makes you feel better-" He reached back and spun the wheel handle until the lock activated with a thunk. "Computer, restrict laboratory G1 access to B. Pine only." The computer confirmed his orders, and the engineer returned his attention to the girl on his table. "Now, where were we?"

Needing no other reassurances, Violet grabbed him by the shirt front and pulled him closer to stand between her knees. She set about tugging the small ivory buttons, slippery and difficult to undo. Buddy, not even bothering to hide his amusement at her expense, batted her hands away and did them himself, leaving her to tug his shirttail from his pants. She had better luck with his belt, ripping it through the loops fast enough for his breath to catch. Violet grinned at that, and at feeling how affected he was in the palm of her hand when her fingers slid under the waist of his pants. So she wasn't the only one a little weak in the knees.

"Lay back," he ordered, gently prying her hand out of his slacks so he could push the material out of the way. "And take your hair out."

"You were always complaining about it down." But still, she made a show of pulling out her hair tie, fanning her raven locks across his plans and calculations as she reclined. She'd deal with the tangles later.

"That's because some asshole could whip you like a yo-yo if they got a hold of it. When I grab your hair, believe me, I'm not looking to hurt." He even had the gall to wink at her. But when he moved closer, Violet gently pressed a palm against his stomach.

"Then go slow. I'm a little sore."

Buddy winced sympathetically. "I didn't exactly make good on being gentle, huh?"

"Don't apologize-"

"Hah! Fat chance, babe." His fingers began massaging her thighs, thumbs running along the muscle in soothing strokes, always stopping just short of where she wanted. It made for quite a sight, Buddy left in nothing but his undershirt, slacks clinging to his hips with nothing but a prayer, and eyes wine-dark as he looked over her spread out beneath him. With a roll of his hips, he pushed into her, making her spine arch off the glass with a soft keen. "But I'll try better."

And he did, at first, moving carefully between her legs, slow and steady even as his groans sounded almost agonized. He placed a hand over her belly button, holding her down to the table as he moved. Violet held his wrist with one hand, the other gripping the edge of the table above her head. It stabilized her as she drowned under waves of passion, especially when questing fingers let go of her leg and began stroking that sweet spot that sent bolts of pleasure coursing up her spine.

But there was such a thing as too gentle, and with him trapping her on the glass stop there was no way to move and encourage him. Oh, and he knew it too, the whole time wearing a grin, eyes flickering from her face to where he moved inside her.

"Need something, princess?" Violet whimpered, arching under his hand as he stopped moving altogether, hips pressing her into the edge of the table. "C'mon now, use your words. You never have trouble talking."

"You just want me to be crude," she snapped.

"Is it crude to know how much you want me? I like hearing it."

Violet let her head fall back, hooking her legs around his hips. "Please, Buddy, I want you! I want you, I love you!"

For a long moment, Violet didn't realize what she had said. She simply thought he was continuing to tease her by remaining absolutely stalk still. But then his fingers came up and gripped the front of her sweatshirt, hauling her up. She squeaked, confusion blossoming into panic. "I-"

"It doesn't count when I'm inside you," Buddy murmured, not angry, but a little shocked. If she didn't know better, she might have guessed his eyes were glittering with more than just feral desire. "But say it again."

Her hands cupped his face, brushing over the freckles that stubbornly clung to his cheeks despite his age with her thumbs. "I love you, Buddy." Violet repeated the phrase again and again until he planted one of those utterly unfair, toe-curling kisses on her lips, and continued the mantra as he laid them both back against the table, body covering hers and gentility totally abandoned.

Violet was almost there, her words becoming slurred moans buried into his neck when he slowed again. She whimpered, thinking he was going to torture her all night with denial, leaning back to look into his face. But passion had disappeared and was replaced with intense concentration. Not for her-no, his lover was quite forgotten as he pushed her hair out of the way, smoothing one of the poor abused papers beneath them. Then, of all things, he began searching for a pen.

"...Buddy!"

"Yeah?"

"Are you serious?"

"I-just a second, I promise!" He found the object of his search and began scribbling. "Just a second, I'll be really quick I swear, I swear-is field 'f-i-e' or 'f-e-i'?"

Violet's mouth hung open in shock, stunned into answering, "'I' before 'e'."

"Thanks." He finished solving whatever calculation had just inspired him and tossed the paper and pen onto the desk next to the turntable. He rained kisses over her face muttering, "See? You're inspirational-stop laughing!"

"You're ridiculous," Violet shrieked, shaking with her giggles. It was too absurd, them, their situation, her forbidden attraction, his unbreakable focus. It was a ridiculous, wonderful farce that was fatally real.

"But you love me for it," he pointed out, satisfied in his research and now just as determined to turn her peals of laughter into moans of pleasure; a feat accomplished just as quickly as his maths.

The next days followed in much the same routine. Early mornings in the lab until Liam and Buddy were finished with her, and then upstairs to prepare late into the evening, somehow breaking for meals in between. Mirage joined her effort in getting the two engineers upstairs to sustain themselves; a feat better accomplished after Buddy was nearly out for four hours with a blinding migraine from lack of food to which his secret lover was totally unsympathetic. She had at least denied to lay a cool damp cloth over his eyes as he reclaimed beside her in bed that night, but safe to say they had engaged in nothing else.

That at least convinced him of the logic of eating at least every twelve hours. From then on both men were seen at dinner, if only to cloister at one end of the table, going over their calculations and plans again and again. They had already confiscated both Incredigirl's and Shadow's suits, putting them to pieces and studying the material. Violet was a little sad seeing her clothes cut up into small squares and rent at the seams; she had her Ultra suit of course, but the sight made the changes she had undergone all too tangible.

While they were busy solving invisibility, the Parrs had solidified their exit strategies. They would plant Baby and the Incredibile in the forest at the back of the hotel as both vehicles came at the electronic calls of their owners right when they needed to make their big escapes. The best-case scenario was accompanying Jang into the conference, tripping the Ultra Virus to shut down the functions of the hotel, and throwing Fell into the trunk of the Incredibile. From there they'd return to the manor which had a lockdown function. The second best was lifting a few coins off of the scum invited to the conference (Liam was sure he could make a magnetic device that could easily pluck them from pockets as no one on the team was particularly skilled in pickpocketing) to kidnap the doctor. The worst was sticking a blade in Fell by any means necessary and returning to the house (which was both of the engineers' favorite plan, unanimously outvoted by the rest).

That decided, they attacked who exactly would be the targets of the theft should the need arise. Mirage had put the photos on the glass dividers in the den as they debated the possibilities of each candidate. There was the Super-Villain designer Simon Kurtz whom they felt obligated to torment out of loyalty to Edna, several mob bosses, various lower-level villains they knew slightly but were leery about agitating during such a delicate mission, one of the partners in Buy-and-Large, and an art thief whom Buddy vetoed during one of his rare sightings outside the lab and dining room.

"Not that guy," he had pointed out on his way to the forge.

"Why?" Mirage frowned and tilted her head. "Hannibal Slony is perfect, no ties to follow us back, he has nothing to gain from listening to Fell other than money, and that's the only reason I can tell he was invited."

"I don't want him recognizing my voice."

"You dealt in stolen art," Dash asked a little incredulously, twisting to look at the villain from where he was sprawled in an armchair.

"No. He's not technically a thief, just a black market seller."

"Why were you buying black market art," came from Helen. "What possible use could you have for that?"

He gestured vaguely at Mirage. "It was her birthday, what else was I supposed to do?"

"Give it to a museum," Violet pointed out over Mirage's cry of that was stolen art, Buddy?! She leaned her head back over the head of the couch and smirked at him upside down, adding, "And buy her, I dunno, a diamond bracelet?"

Buddy narrowed his eyes, but she saw how he fought against a smile at his words being tossed back against him. "Well if you're that upset about it, don't go into the library."

"The Young Man," Mirage whined, obviously referring to the painting of the boy in renaissance garb that hung in a place of honor over the fireplace in that room. "I love that painting!"

"You're welcome-"

"No not 'you're welcome'!"

"Would you rather Nazis have it, Nat?!" Which had promptly ended that fight before it even began, though Mirage muttered darkly about it for the rest of the day. Violet supposed she too should feel a little disturbed at the reminder of her lover's dark past, but whatever apprehension she might have considered was irradicated by the sight of Buddy working over the fire of the forge. Not that she could admire the way his shirt was rolled up at the sleeves or clung to him with sweat long, lest someone noticed her stare.

At least his work seemed to be bearing fruit. On the fifth day, while they were all still pouring their first cups of coffee, Buddy had pounded up the stairs and brandished what looked like shiny new sensors. Violet had tried to wave him and his brilliant grin off, asking just a few more moments before he sent her back to the glass terrarium. But with all the excitement of a child receiving a new bike, he had explained they had solved the womens' suit problem with this prototype. To prove it, he proceeded to stick the sensors onto Dash's clothes; the sleeves of his shirt, the legs of his pants, and at his waist.

Then, with a push of a button on the primary sensor, the cloth the little disks touched disappeared, leaving him in just his boxers and socks. Or they were attempting to, flickering in and out of sight while the young man ran and hid behind the kitchen island, shouting at the engineer to turn whatever device he had off. Not that the villain heard, too busy trying to explain to Violet that he had linked her disrupting of gravity (somehow) with her invisibility.

"I mean you're not disrupting the electromagnetic waves per se but it gave me the idea. At first, I thought your invisibility was mirroring the environment around you, like a chameleon, but that's not actually the case! You're bending the light, like how you make a sphere with your shields-so I was right–they are connected," he had called over Dash's shouting. "So I'm creating a shield myself. Casting it like that dumb net idea Liam had, but instead, it's electronic waves-God, kid, shut up you don't have anything to hide anyway. It's not like I slapped them on your mother-which I wouldn't so calm down old man."

When they weren't given a front-row seat to a mad scientist and his toys, Mirage had them on a strict course of the lifestyles of the rich and depraved. She had organized a list of slang that might help them fit in (though Bob had spent a whole hour ranting about 'why would they call it that? In my day' to which his children had slumped in their seats and simply waited until he was done). It also culminated in several explanations of subjects all would have rather avoided with the elder heroes, especially Violet who had insisted the only reason she knew the names for so many drugs was from her classes about the abuse of prescriptions. It didn't stop her mother from pretending to check her pupils and pulse just to make sure until she finally broke down and laughed.

These sessions also came with the aforementioned dance lessons given by Liam, to which Violet and Dash were banned from practicing together for the sake of each other's toes being trodden on both accidentally and not soaccidentally.

When they took time to sit, they learned the casino games like blackjack, baccarat, and poker. Mirage was once again instructor, her problem student being Helen who simply couldn't bluff to save her life, while her best was surprisingly Bob, who had picked up a knack for cards during the war. Buddy was totally banished from these games after winning several rounds of 7 card stud despite every emotion playing over his face. Liam had grown tired and snapped that if he was going to count cards, he was useless at teaching. The engineer had been sent from the room under the shower of several thrown decks.

Any spare moment they had from cramming information into their brains, the supers were sparring. Once more Violet was under the tutelage of her father who ran them all their paces in the forest behind the manor. When she had been Incredigirl, and a few years as Shadow before refraining from active hero work, her father had made it a point to train them all on top of their self-defense classes. As a unit, they were highly targeted and he never wanted to be caught unawares again. They paired up, spending daylight hours chasing one another between the trees, using what powers and wit they possessed to best their opponents. She and Dash always made it into a bitter competition, and her father, though hard to get the upper hand with, once achieved, was easy to hold within a shield. Violet, however, had forgotten how agile her mother was, and more than once found herself flung up into a tree because she failed to keep track of all the woman's limbs at once.

Dash excelled at these matches, both having had the most practice in recent years, and because he was able to get out his pent-up aggression. Violet kept a keen eye on her brother, still rather worried from his repeated vows of violence; his target could not have been better chosen, but she despaired of what he believed was the correct methodology. For all his years of crime-fighting, the boy, and he was still just out of boyhood barely eighteen, had yet to feel blood on his hands, or even see it spattered across his own face. He didn't know what it was like to run for his life with the taste of iron and fear coating his tongue. And if it were up to Violet, he never would. Her brother had already seen too much, and his response scared her a little; scared her because it harmonized with a dark, agonized tone in her own soul. And it was that note she wished to silence, for all their sakes. She would not have him suffer the burden of survival.

Still, he was finally able to succeed at something after months of being forced to ride shotgun to his sister whom he wished to protect. High on testosterone and ego, he turned his outlet of anger onto his favorite target and challenged Buddy after one such round of training. The man had come to fetch Violet to attempt to disappear a few of their prototypes for Baby's new body and sneered at the offer, calling Dash a snot-nosed runt. But a few pointed remarks about courage, ability, and...size had convinced the genius to suit up and finally meet the boy on an equal playing field.

It had been an interesting evening, everyone crowded at the edge of the forest watching them square off. Of course, Dash had roughed him up for a good few minutes, tossing the metal man around the backyard with his speed supplementing the strength he lacked, bruising more than just Buddy's massive ego. He got in his promised punches, though avoided the face per Mirage's orders ("We don't have time to heal a black eye!").

Unfortunately, Dash had a proclivity for patterns, and Buddy loved nothing better than a good repeated sequence. He very quickly learned how the boy liked to run away first, and then towards the target like a human boomerang, and so caught him in the stomach with his fighting baton. Then the match began in earnest. Dash's reliance on speed handicapped him, as Buddy only had to block long enough to find an opening. From there, the lanky boy was a rag doll at his disposal. Dash was much like VIolet before the lab-he thought his powers were nothing more than what came naturally.

Though Buddy got his fair share of digs in during the fight, once he had the boy grounded and bested, he did nothing but offer a hand up, and a few ideas. Could he run fast enough that time seemed to slow around him? Had he ever tried or noticed? If he could, could he stop something going just as fast as him, like a bullet, without injuring himself since it would become nothing more than a piece of metal without the speed? Dash was more confused than defeated by the end of their match, too busy thinking about the possibilities of literally stopping speeding bullets than to ponder losing to the man who kissed his sister.

"Thank you," Violet had murmured into Buddy's hair that night. She had rewarded his act of civility most thoroughly once he had absconded from the lab to her room. In the short days they had, Violet learned quickly not to enter the lab after dinner if she didn't want to be sleeping in Buddy's spartan bedroom below ground and be forced to make a mad dash upstairs before anyone else woke up. She'd also learned that by avoiding such a scenario, he inevitably came to her, crawling under her sheets just before she dipped off to sleep and certainly not helping her catch any shut-eye. "For not gloating and being an ass about it."

"Yeah well…" he had his chin resting on her sternum, giving him easy access to kiss where he pleased in this position. "I am genuinely curious if he could do it. Besides he looked like a kicked puppy-and I'm not that kinda villain."

"Not into puppy kicking? More stealing candy from babies?"

"There's just no money to be made in pooch-punching." He grinned at her giggles and continued, "But if you want to continue thanking me, I'm absolutely open to it."

Pig. She took a hold of his face, pulling him closer. "Yeah, sure-shut up, c'mere."

"Yes ma'am."

Not that she truly minded the lack of sleep, much preferring the time she could openly love her villain to unconsciousness. Despite the frequency, passion had yet to abate. Violet could have marked it up to the tensions of the days spilling into their nights-but she doubted those oh so rare moments of sweetness from Buddy, such as murmuring her name like a prayer between kisses, had any connection to Fell or their mission. Violet still clung to some amount of modesty which he found 'adorable' and hilarious in turns when he teased and stripped her clean of it. Violet, for her share, cherished the moments ego and pride fled him, replaced with an aptly described naked honesty about the quantity and severity of feeling he carried for her.

Together, as two singularly intelligent people, they had found the solution to the problem of her poor abused hips (as abstinence, they collectively agreed, was not an option). So Violet was more than happy to lay flat on her belly for the times she didn't feel like pinning him to the sheets. The solution had two unexpected rewards; one was that it made deliciously wicked use of the mirror over her room's dresser. She came to like it watching their bodies move together, once she got over the shyness of seeing her own visage lost in passion. And it gave her a way to look into Buddy's eyes, a delightful sight that elevated base lust into something more meaningful as his gaze darkened with feeling.

The second was the sensation of his body hugging hers, almost like another type of shield. It was an embrace repeated in the afterglow, when they curled together under her blanket, sharing quiet words about nothing or simple soft kisses. Violet, who had long detested any type of restraint, felt safe when he held her in a hold too tight to escape from and when she woke up pinned in his arms. Many times, she found she anticipated this more than the act that preluded it; the minutes he clutched her to his chest, talking about everything and nothing, just like on ship except without the stupid facade of chastity.

School stories, favorite flowers (Violet ironically tended towards water and calla lilies while the only one Buddy could think of was flowering dogwoods like the one his mother was buried under), best books they ever read (The nearly wasted an entire night with Buddy recounting all the reasons he loved Rand's Anthem, and Violet had been too charmed by his enthusiasm to stop him), and anything else that wandered their minds as they lay tangled together before sleep finally came for its' due.

They looked back over shared memories, Violet hesitantly explaining how her first inkling of feeling had been that night on ship, to which Buddy had gotten a good laugh. His affection had begun before he even noticed, his approximate date being when he had escaped the lab. Though, he mused, it ought to have been obvious when he would be planning and drawing blueprints that his pencil always seemed to slip and create another vision of the girl who had been, at that time, totally separated from him forever.

He had confessed that much of his prickly attitude to her joining had to do with the uncanny way she affected him when she was near, to which Violet pointed out it wasn't much different than his natural personality, so his secret had been quite safe, thanks. Buddy even wheedled out of her what had affected her so the morning after their almost kiss; and when she had blurted out the dream in stuttering sentences, he proceeded to kiss her wrists and make more than one fantasy come true.

But whenever Violet spoke of 'after', their future together, what little of it was concrete enough to contemplate, Buddy seemed to grow quiet. He would hold her closer, and nod, but had very little to add. So she had given up speaking about it, noticing how it etched lines of stress in his face. Their haven within her room was totally safe from the outside, and she wouldn't spoil it for him. But she didn't stop thinking about it.

The night before the ball it was all that was on her mind.

In less than twenty-four hours she would be dolled up in the gown Edna had made for her, bare but for silk and chiffon as Mirage would be taking her Ultra suit. After all, Violet had something even more sturdy than mega mesh to shield her. Their clothes were all laid out, the plans repeated so often they could all recite the steps, and the names of their multiple targets, in their sleep. They had played blackjack until their eyes crossed, spared until their limbs shook, and were closing out the final day with more dancing lessons, having confiscated the record player from the lab. Buddy had not come up for this, knowing how to dance and spending every last moment on the invisibility fields, perfecting the mechanisms. Dash would stay off the floor completely since he had two left feet as his sister's aching toes proved and instead decided to get as much sleep as possible.

In the end, Violet had let Liam free of his obligation so that he could 'practice' with his wife, leaving them and her parents to sway to the crooning French love songs from the player, enjoying a simple moment of peace before the storm.

There was nothing left but the waiting.

Violet watched from the kitchen, leaning on the counter. She propped her cheek on her hand, glad to let her ever-churning logical mind quiet from its continual study of plans, people, and prospects to bask in the romanticism on display. She wondered if there would ever be a time, long from now, that she and Buddy would be as such; an old married couple, deep into the comfortable affection once passion's fires had banked. Violet wanted that, even if her chosen partner was more hog than man.

"Princess, there you are. I need...hello? Hel-lo?"

A hand waved before her face, snapping her out of her reverie. Think of the devil. "Huh? Oh, sorry."

Buddy glanced out into the den and scowled at the disgustingly sweet sight. "What, you looking to get cavities?"

Violet prepared to say something scathing in return but refrained. She was too tired tonight and didn't want to ruin her good mood. "No. What did you need?"

Her partner narrowed his eyes. "I know that kind of 'no'. That's a 'you've already messed up out of the gate' no."

She made to brush him off, just as she had about their never-ending kiss argument. "You don't want to know."

"I doubt anything you can throw at me will break me at this point," he snorted. When she rolled her eyes, turning away, he caught her elbow. "What were you thinking about? You didn't even hear me for a good five minutes, and you were blushing. C'mon I gotta know."

"It's not that, so don't get too excited." Violet gestured to the couples utterly wrapped up in themselves. "I just...I dunno. I was just thinking when this is all over, that could be us. That will be us. I have to think like that, you know? It keeps me going. I'm a wreck about tomorrow but when I think about how you'll be free and I'll be able to tell them to shove my badge we could be somewhere, just...together, I feel better. I feel confident when I have that to fight for. It'll all be okay because we'll be-..."

But Buddy wasn't for grand declarations, or sentimental pictures as his silence proved. He simply looked away from her, as if he couldn't bear the sound of her words. Violet couldn't tell if it was talk of tomorrow or the overt tenderness that made him withdraw. He wasn't just shy from his time as a lab rat. This man who wore every emotion on his sleeve was surprisingly good at keeping all the important ones close to the vest. It was as if acknowledging how deeply he cared short-circuited something in him outside of the bedroom, more than likely from all the times he had been burned from such displays. It wasn't a habit he would break quickly, if at all.

However, Violet would make her peace with losing that aspect of love, if it meant he was alive and with her. He was enough, Buddy and his unwavering loyalty, surprising thoughtfulness, and staunch support (even if it showed as teasing and bickering). Desiring anymore would be hubris. She didn't need gallant shows and eloquent speeches, she just needed his unmoving support in a crazy, ever-changing world.

So she patted his arm and started towards the stairs. "Or maybe I'm just a little bummed I didn't get to practice dancing with you, but I forgot you've sworn off romantic gestures. You don't have the best luck-"

Just before she was out of arm's reach, Buddy took her fingers and pulled her back towards him. He had been correct in saying he didn't need any practice. He knew how to hold a woman just right; slightly off-center, one arm wrapped securely about her, the other holding her hand at shoulder height. He didn't even need to count to fall easily in step to the music, turning them lazily around the island. There was no clumsy stumbling, no careful adjustment of positions, just her lover leading her into the sway.

"Bud-"

"I'm fixing my track record. Shut up and enjoy it."

She finally understood why they called this type of dancing 'cheek to cheek' as she rested hers against his and sighed. He was holding her tight the way she loved, his warmth making the kitchen seem a little cool and she wasn't fool enough to protest what was rare to obtain. So Violet settled into his hold easily, slowly turning as one song lazily transitioned into the next, feeling safe as the couples in the next room were far too absorbed to notice them through the doorway of the kitchen.

Not that Violet cared much about discovery in his arms-let them come in and find her. She was too happy to have this moment, feeling him hum along to a tune new knew when the song changed again, and understood instinctively it would be one of those memories she would cherish forever in the lockbox of her heart. When he held her tight, almost protectively, the world was, for just a moment, totally right.

Truly, Buddy could be an excellent villain, able to wield such tender moments with expertise to cut right to the soul of her. It was a wound Violet would gladly let fester, marking her forever, especially when it pulled back and softly sang along, "Alors je sens en moi, mon cœur qui bat. Des nuits d'amour à plus finir un grand bonheur qui prend sa place. Des ennuis, des chagrins s'effacent. Heureux, heureux à en mourir…", until the touch of lips silenced him. And Violet thought, before she ceased thinking altogether and returned to their dance, that she could give up casual sentimentality quite happily for these rare jewels of true affection.

Violet sighed as they pulled apart, returning her cheek to his. The hand on his shoulder slid up to gently massage the back of his neck, playing idly with the short amber locks.

"Your track record is just fine, love."