Chapter XXV
Hephaestus Flung From Heaven
Helen Parr sat at the vanity in her borrowed bedroom, listening to her husband prepare for bed. Concern for the mission ahead simmered in her belly, a low heat flame she was used to. In actuality, their plans were far more meticulous than the usual blueprints her missions followed, both as Elastagirl and Mrs. Incredible. Hero work was second nature, and that nature was always chaotic and off the cuff. This period of planning was a pleasant change if anything could be pleasant about it. She felt more secure in their battle ahead than the younger people did, that was for sure.
She had watched them in the last ten days, her children and the other half of their motley crew. They may not be youths technically, but they did not carry the years of experience that weighed on Helen. Dash had taken to exhausting himself in drills, practice, and running laps in the forest, probably to expel the nervous energy and calm his racing mind. She'd at first been worried about Violet's secrecy finally hammering a wedge between the siblings, but Dash had taken all of that anger and switched it towards a proper target. Now he seemed to be vacillating between bloodthirst and abject fear, two emotions he couldn't outrun no matter how many laps he did.
The MacConnells were almost obsessive in their planning, treating every bit of information as vital and deserving of scrutiny whether it be dossiers on the guests or the tech that currently sat in the den awaiting use. Mirage had gone through every file, every paper, to the point where she had taken to mumbling under her breath as she moved through the house, repeating names and facts. Liam had assured everyone it was normal, saying (without saying) that she had done this in the days counting down to the Kronos operation.
Syndrome had happily, for everyone, become mute, bent over any scrap of paper he could find, always creating-and that was when he was out of the lab. Not even Bob's barbs seemed to break him–more than once Mr. Incredible had thrown him a quip and the younger man had looked up mumbling, "huh?".
And Violet, she had become quiet and thoughtful, almost like a specter in the home, watching everything and saying nothing. So quiet, her mother almost swore she heard the gears whirring in her skull.
Rubbing her eyes, Helen sighed. Violet, Violet, her little girl. She had not always been so introverted. As a baby she was desperately curious, crawling before she even babbled, walking before her first sentences, grabbing and inspecting, always reaching ahead. It wasn't until she grew older, and their moves became more frequent did she understand the weight of her blood's legacy. The secrecy and the shame, totally undeserved but regularly doled out, and her mother didn't have the tools or ability to protect her.
Helen had, like most supers, almost no basis for child-rearing. Children who exhibited powers before the so-called 'golden age' of heroes were almost always given up for adoption by parents too frightened or too out of their depth to handle the babies who seemed to magically manipulate themselves or the world around them. Any mothering skills Helen developed were born from growing up in the orphanage and becoming a surrogate maternal figure to the younger children during her time.
But rocking crying babies and telling ghost stories were no preparation for carrying a real squalling infant home from the hospital that bore your name and your protection from the world. So she had tried to ingrain herself as much as she could-PTA Mom, attending cookouts and little daycares, storytimes at the library, and any child activity in whatever community they were in for that year or month. Not only for her daughter but as reconnaissance. If she didn't know how to be a mother, darn it, she would learn.
But Bob. But moving. But Violet constantly disappearing when she got an answer wrong in kindergarten.
So Helen had watched her little girl turn from a tumbling, grinning bundle of joy to a shy, quiet and distant creature, more comfortable in her own thoughts than in the real world. Siblings had been Helen's idea to help-after all, she had wanted a big family, and there was no time like the present. For a few years, it did make a change: responsibility giving her an outlet to express not only herself but her powers; teaching her brothers how to control themselves and ingrain.
Yet Violet continued on her lonely path, separating from the pack even as a child.
However, Helen now watched this woman who had defied death so many times since her adolescence, who had been nothing but a shade of herself since returning from that forest as if she'd left her soul within the trees, transform into a leader. She had not recovered any of her boisterous, bold behavior; but she was wise and strong, taking command of their team and moving the pieces just to her liking. Helen had wanted to lay it all at the feet of the villain whom she had recused, but now the mother could see it was all Violet's planning. There was more than doubt and emotions churning behind those bright purple eyes.
Of course, she had more at stake here than almost anyone. Helen burned with righteous anger against the so-called doctor, but Violet had a score to settle. It was her battle to win, a defining moment for Shadow, for Violet Parr, even for her family who followed behind her, choosing what kind of hero and woman she was. And Helen was both confident and terrified in spades.
Because of Syndrome.
Helen wished she could have such simplistic feelings on it as he was a bad influence and making her more Machiavellian than she ought to be. From the secrets she had been keeping, to daring her father to murder the villain at the hotel, Helen had wanted all of that to be the monster's influence; a sickness that could be cured with family love like an infection with medicine.
That however had been dashed in the back seat of the Incredibile. Despite her almost physical aversion to the man, Helen had to admit Violet had been correct–Syndrome had curbed himself from constantly fighting with his old and enduring nemesis, or his son. It hadn't just been one drunken night of breaking bread at his table–the way he had handled Dash had been surprising both before and during their fight. Sharp disapproval in what he considered incompetency was all well and good, and given to superfluous amounts on both sides. But he no longer pressed at the wounds that were sure to bleed and trigger the fight response. The man was trying and beyond ignoring his grudge, he had focused not on his own glory or control, but on the mission at hand.
Besides, Syndrome had found a better Incredible to occupy his time.
Helen had been keeping the closest eye on that pair. At first, it had been the constant bickering, back and forth trying to top each other's insults and challenging intelligences. Then it had morphed into companionship, mutual energy. Whenever the engineer began speaking about his craft, his dead eyes grew light, and Violet reflected the rays. A type of synergy built when they planned, especially when their minds aligned to the same goal. Every time he came up to whisk the girl away for an experiment, Violet became animated, excited, and Helen was able to see that bright curious baby she had once held in her arms. The smiles she couldn't hide, the way her eyes followed the man (and the way he always looked to make sure they did).
Violet had returned to them in a way the first days in the manor, teasing her brother, joking with her father, more vocal in conversations rather than observant. When that boy was near her, teasing and pushing her, her own calculating mask cracked, and Violet broke through. Her mother lived for those flashes of emotion now.
Since their reconciliation, that reanimation wasn't limited to Violet; Syndrome, too, lost most of his vicious scowl around Violet, the boy Bob described on his more intoxicated nights of reminiscing sometimes alive again in that cocky smirk. Helen could almost see what her daughter loved in the man, and what her husband mourned.
And they had reconciled. Their first dinner here made that clear, seeing him try to feed her daughter off his fork, the way Violet fidgeted and how Syndrome's left hand was almost always under the table; it didn't take a rocket scientist to understand the situation-something Helen hadn't realized, several cups in, but hindsight made clear.
She seemed genuinely happy. And Syndrome, whilst still being an unimaginable ass, treated her with something like...courtesy. Not that she was any safer from his acidic tongue, but like Helen had observed on ship, he seemed vitally aware of her daughter at all times. His hands hovering over her arms when they descended the stairs while they bickered, pulling out her chair at the table even when Violet called him a pig, playing with the ends of her ponytail behind her back when he thought no one was looking and Violet could not feel it.
Even tonight, Helen had seen the proof right before her eyes. She had gone to take a few cups to the kitchen after her little vacation down memory lane dancing with her husband and found her daughter in the arms of their once nemesis. Helen had seen the look of peaceful happiness on Violet's face, the way contentment smoothed the lines on her forehead and mouth as her chin rested on Syndrome's shoulder, arms tight about his neck. The man had rested his cheek against her temple and pulled back, softly suggesting she go to bed. His hand had come up and touched Violet's chin, sliding down her arm to hold her fingers. He left, both of them refusing to let go until the very last moment, arms stretched out behind them before their fingertips gave way. Violet had smiled, hugging herself with a happy sigh before noticing her mother. Then she said her goodnights and walked upstairs, humming.
They had either given up caring about discovery altogether or had grown hubris and foolish about their ability to hide. Either way, they were ridiculously lucky because Bob had yet to notice a thing.
"Helen?" The man in question turned out the bathroom light and came behind his wife, placing his hands on her shoulders. "What's going on?"
"Nothing." Helen flashed a smile at his reflection and set about finding her hand cream in her small bag of toiletries.
"No, not nothing. You've got that funny little crease between your eyebrows which means you're worried about something. Tomorrow?"
"Yes. That's all." It wasn't technically a lie. She had been fretting over the next day and what trials it would bring, how many futures would be decided. But instead of the very real risk of life and all the ways their plans could go wrong, she was worried about one specific variable.
Her instinct told her, ridiculous as it seemed, that Syndrome would protect Violet at all costs. If the scene in the kitchen had proven anything, it showed that they were both committed to the foolhardy attraction. And by that logic, her daughter would do the same for the villain. That was all well and good, and even gave some cold comfort.
But the very act of doing so would break their 'secret' right open for the one man who had yet to discover it. And if there was anything that could pull Bob from the glory of a mission, it was his precious children. He had proven many times he was willing to die for them; and Helen was now wondering if he could, despite his protests, kill for them.
The open secret could blow up in their faces, distracting him from the duty at hand with the shock of seeing his baby girl, his only daughter, and beloved firstborn, in the loving arms of his most bitter nemesis. It was a variable that could ruin everything, perhaps even risk all their lives.
Yet...it was still an 'if. If he found out and if they were put in a position where Violet would sacrifice herself for the man. All their planning had been towards avoiding such a scenario, keeping their mission as low risk as possible.
So Helen had sat there yo-yoing between coming clean and addressing it now while Bob could rant and be contained-or letting it go, and maybe sparring the couple (mostly her daughter) the trial of Bob's wrath when it could be softened by victory.
"Hey. Come here-no come on." He pulled her from her seat and into his hold. Laying her head right above his heartbeat was a habit as deeply rooted as her heroism. "We've faced worse odds before with less allies and preparation. I know stealth isn't my strong suit, or Dash's, and Violet has been through it. But I promise you, I'm not going to let anything happen to our children."
"Hey, what about me," Helen asked, leaning back to smirk up at her husband.
"I've seen you in action, Elastagirl. I still think I have a mark from those right hooks you gave me when you were wearing the goggles." He rubbed his chin with a wink. "I'm more worried about the other guys."
He tightened his grip on her and Helen allowed herself to be comforted by it. Bob's embrace was always strong, and sure and soothed her even when the man himself was the problem. Confused, distressed, and insecure, Bob always made her laugh no matter what she suffered. Through all the doubt and the worry, the hiding and the fighting, she could depend on Bob. He was her big, strong rock in the storm, the foundation she had vowed to build her life on. Even as she thought it, her thumb slid between her fingers to rub her wedding ring.
Would he ever give this to Violet? What foundation was Syndrome to build on? This house certainly bespoke wealth. But what about the moments that money couldn't fix? When she was low, broken beyond belief, and needing comfort? Violet said he pushed her and made her better but what if love had turned cold beratement into well-meaning encouragement?
Helen pressed closer to her husband's chest. No. No, she had to trust that Violet knew what she was doing. Fine. Fine. It will work out it has to. We just have to make it past this, then I can worry about that.
"The crease is back," he observed. "Listen, we'll be fine. You'll be with Dash, and I'll be with Vi. We'll protect each other. This is what we do, we're superheroes."
"Not all of us," she reminded.
"Yeah, well, he's got some use-imagine that. Maybe if he goes after Fell first, Vi won't have to risk herself."
That's what Helen was banking on. She leaned back, looking into her husband's face. After all this time, even noticing the wrinkles and graying of age, she still saw the handsome young man she met on a rooftop in Municiberg, the one she married in that small city church.
You vowed to be true to him. Tell him. He needs to know. It's too important a mission to risk. "It's not Fell I'm worried about her going after," Helen started.
"What do you mean? That other woman?"
He really is oblivious, he really can't think of Violet that way. Maybe he'd see any risk of hers as doing so for the team…. "I-...it doesn't matter. You're right, I'm letting nerves get to me when we should be sleeping. Come on."
She made to pull away and finally climb into bed, but Bob held onto her arms. "What are you not saying, Helen? You're being secretive and it's not like you."
His wife almost winced. Maybe not so oblivious. She loathed not being able to confer with Bob on this, her partner and friend. This was Violet's fight, she'd have to learn to navigate the world with Syndrome on her own, push past the hurdles as a team or split, like any couple. But Violet was under enough stress, and it would be safe for their team as a whole.
The heroine straightened her back and made up her mind. She would just have to spin it. Bob loved Violet. And so did...Buddy. They had a common goal. She'd lean into that. "I just mean that I'm not worried about Violet risking herself for Fell, or even being protected. Syndrome will take care of that."
"Syndrome?" Bob laughed now, thinking she was teasing him. "Syndrome look out for Violet? He'd use her as a stick to beat him with if he could figure out how to make it work."
"No, I don't think so Bob. He's…careful with her, you have to have noticed that. I mean he saved her from Fell in the first place. He's been protecting her for a while now."
"How? By fighting over everything? He may have helped her out of that hospital, but now they're at each other's throats. Heck, they'd probably fight over their clothes if Edna hadn't assigned the outfits."
"Honey…" She shook her head. Didn't he even have an inkling? Was he really so convinced that there could be no change in the villain, that Violet lovely as she was, could not sway even the hardest of hearts?
Is this how Violet saw her mother?
Best not to think about that right now. "You've seen how they've paired off. He's always watching her, and she's practically glued to him.
"They're the leaders. Vi's ours, Syndrome is theirs. She's been trying to make the team work, keeping an eye on him and I doubt he's happy about that."
Helen pulled her arms free and gestured emphatically. "Robert. Please. It can't have escaped your notice how they are with each other, how he is to Vi."
"A jerk?"
Helen slapped a hand to her forehead. "Smitten!"
If the situation wasn't so dire the absolutely gobsmacked look Bob wore would have been hilarious, and if Helen weren't navigating a tightrope between dread and exasperation, she might have been tempted to take a picture for posterity.
"Th-sm-they fight like cat and dog!" Bob laughed, nervously as he saw his wife wasn't joining in. "Honey, believe me, they are not… Violet's a beautiful girl-second prettiest in the world next to you-but come on. The first night here, they were shouting at each other on the front lawn!"
"And after?"
"Violet put him in his place!"
That was a picture Helen could go her whole life without contemplating. "Bob. They watched a movie together, alone, in the basement."
"Because no one can stand him, not even his friends. What does that-"
"Just, work with me, honey, please." She took his hand and led him to the mattress, pushing him to sit. "Do you remember our first date?" She shook her head when he leaned his head back, groaning in dread. "No, just follow me for a second. What did we do?"
"We went to see Singing in the Rain and you wore your blue sweater with the dog on it, and you had a white barrette in your hair. See? I remember. Now w-"
"And do you remember the plot of Singing in the Rain?"
Even frustrated and confused, Bob had to fight to hide his slight grin. Neither of them made it through that movie. In their costumes they were bold and confident-out of them, they had been hesitant and shy, neither having felt such deep affection for another person as they were discovering with each other. Helen remembered how they had both tried to play it off, their cavalier tone at total odds in street clothes as opposed to spandex. She recalled how her heart had raced when he had asked in the quiet darkness of the movie house can I kiss you, and how it hammered in her ears and she enthusiastically consented. "A little...not as much as I should, probably."
"Because what happens every time Singing in the Rain comes on? And why do we play the music on Jack-Jack's birthday?"
The point seemed to land in his brian almost with an audible thump. "But that's….no. No. You seriously think they were-Violet?! Have you heard the names she calls him?! They're always having-"
"Playful banter," Helen asked.
Bob was up from the bed like a shot, thundering towards the door. Helen was faster, stretching quickly under his legs and planting herself against the doorframe. This was exactly what she wanted to avoid at the ball. "Where do you think you're going?!"
"You don't expect me to sit here and let him paw at our daughter, do you?! I knew he was lying about that kiss. Forget what I said! I'm going to strangle him! That no good, skirt-chasing, cradle robbing, perverted monster! Silver tongue little bastard, who knows what stories he's been spinning her! Well I'm no-"
"If you go in there throwing around your weight and accusations around you will guarantee they have a family of four by her thirtieth birthday."
"Vi would ne-"
"Oh really? Violet? Violet is just as protective of him. You know-don't you remember the hotel? This is what I'm worried about. She'll protect him at all costs, Bob. Maybe some of it was because of what they survived with Fell, but most of it is because she likes him. I think she might even love the man. Now, do you think you can talk rationality to a girl in love? I tried and didn't get anywhere. They sulked like teenagers and ended up together anyway!"
"What do you mean-" He pinched the bridge of his nose, holding up his free hand. "Okay, wait, how long have you known about this exactly?! What do you mean you tried? Is that what they were fighting about before their mission?"
"It must have been." Helen relaxed only a little, still eyeing her husband's hands in case he tried to pry her from the door. "And before you go on and try to rip them apart, think about this: he left her alone for a whole day-and from what Vi told me he tried to break her heart so that she'd drop him-all because I told him too. And I wasn't exactly polite, you would have been proud.
"I can't believe he even did it, but he made her think it was his idea. Vi found out accidentally, and she was murderous over it-worse than you when someone interferes with your work. That's where she gets it from, by the way. She acted like I had foiled some grand master plan, so before you start grabbing throats, consider that Violet has been the one chasing him. Syndrome isn't the one that needs convincing."
Bob gaped at her. "But not Vi! She wouldn't…" But his argument was crumbling under its own weight. Helen saw the emotions play over his face as he reviewed every interaction he had witnessed between the couple, just as Helen had when she first suspected. How fights turned from vicious to personal, barbs to teases, and cold stares became longing gazes of two people separated by allegiance and time.
He stumbled back falling onto the bed again. "Oh my God…"
Helen held up her hands, like trying to approach a growling dog. "I'm sorry. I know with everything tomorrow it doesn't seem like the best time. But you needed to know, so it wouldn't be a shock during the mission and distract you. I don't like it either, but we can't focus on them, we have to focus on Fell. The good thing about it is they both want Fell and they want each other. That will protect them. When this is over, then we can figure out how to deal with it."
"You mean how to get her away from him!"
"Heh, well. Good luck, you face Violet's anger, I've had my fill for a good couple of years. But we need sleep and-"
Whatever platitudes she was going to use to get her husband to bed and asleep fell flat when they heard shouting. It was muffled, from down the hall, and both parents froze, unsure if they had recognized the sound correctly. But it came again, and distinctly female, followed by the deeper tones of a man's shouts. Then all went silent.
"Maybe that was Mirage," Helen tried weakly.
He didn't even bother to order her out of the way, Bob simply picked his wife up and set her on top of the dresser before bounding out of their room.
Violet had just slid under the covers when Buddy appeared. She had turned back the blanket and invited him in quite literally with open arms as he stripped down to undershirt and boxers. Now they lay together in comfortable familiarity, their mouths active, if languid in their speed. In fact, he didn't seem to be set on doing anything more than necking, despite how his hands wandered as if trying to commit every contour to memory. She was wearing his old college shirt, and the thicker woven cotton wasn't nearly as conducive to petting as her satin nightdress.
She sat up to rectify that situation, but barely grabbed the hem of the shirt before he stopped her, holding her by the wrists. "Wait, Vi. Come back here."
A little confused, Violet settled back against his chest, her face finding a familiar home in the crook of his neck. She felt more than heard his words: "I need you to do me a big favor. It's real important."
"Okay…"
"When you get back to Illinois, when everything's sorted at the NSA, I need you to go see my father. He's in West Virginia, and we have the same name, except he has 'the third' after it. He lives on Pine Ranch. You won't be able to miss him, especially with government resources. I need you to see him and I want you to tell him everything. Everything, okay? And...and try to spin it as best you can. I know it won't be possible to make it sound nice, especially from your perspective but if you could just...try to make me seem better than a lunatic-"
Violet leaned her head back. "Buddy, he's your father. He's going to love you no matter what, you don't need to send me as emissary. He'll understand if you explain it-probably better than if some stranger does. We-"
"I'm not done. Just listen, please, Violet."
She ran her hand along his collarbone, trailing up his throat and enjoying the heat in the cool room. "This is a big favor if it's got steps, you know. I may need some payment upfront."
But Buddy didn't smirk at the joke. "Nat knows all my info-social, house locations, account numbers-most of them are joint with her. It'll be really easy for her to swap your names out, she's good at stuff like that."
"I don't want your money-"
"Stop. I want you to have it. I don't want you to have to force yourself back into a hospital or God-forbid, work at the shit-hole NSA. Nat's great with documents. She'll be able to fake a marriage certificate no problem. Even have it notarized."
Her fingers froze at the big 'm' word he had just dropped on her. "...If this is your idea of a proposal, I gotta tell you-"
"You'll need it to get the life insurance policy, in case you have trouble getting the cash from the overseas accounts. Your father would probably know more about that than anyone."
"Life in-Buddy." Violet shoved against his chest sitting up. "What are you going on about? Why are you telling me to ask Mirage to do all of this stuff? Or see your father? We can do this together after we oust Echo. You said yourself, Bartholomew's identity was solid enough to fall back on, so why are you acting like they're going to throw you in jail? If you end up killing Fell, with what we have on him, they'd probably give you a medal and a plaque at the NSA building."
Buddy lay flat on his back, rubbing his face. "I know I'm not going to have trouble with the NSA. I'm just trying to tell you this so you don't have to scramble later. So you'll know what to do."
"Why would I have to scramble? I'll just wait for you if you have to leave, and we can get married together without having to forge a certificate. You know, if you'd actually propose right." But the longer Violet talked, the more desire cooled, the faster she saw through his words to the heart of it.
Or lack thereof. "...You're not going to be there. You don't plan on being there."
"...There's no plan about it, princess."
"Oh my God."
"Wait-"
But Violet pushed his hands away, practically falling out of bed. Her head spun, and her stomach lurched from the rotations as she paced the floor of her bedroom, the cold wood burning her soles. Finally, she rounded on him. "I need the marriage cert to look real so that they'll give your spouse the death certificate for the insurance policy. You still think you're going to die! You're planning on it!"
He rose to join her, trying to catch her as she stormed past. "It's not like that, princess. It's not a plan–It's a simple calculation."
"Calculation! What bullshit numbers did you plug to get it!?"
"You have powers, I don't. You're a hero, I'm not." When she threw her hands in the air, he continued a little louder, "You survive things like this Violet, and I don't have the best track record. The fact that I'm standing here now is a miracle and mostly it's due to you-"
"So what makes you think I'll let you die this time?!"
"That's what I'm dying to stop, Violet. You trying to prevent it. I told you, we all have our roles, we all run on code, or fate or destiny or whatever word you want to call it. I want to make sure yours goes smoothly, and when I'm gone I can still protect you. With that much money you could do anything-maybe buy your own practice or lab. Hell, you could retire at forty."
He was so calm, he was too fucking calm about this. He spoke about his own life ending in the same tone as weather speculation. Buddy just stood there, stating the ruination of his being, her happiness, and all the plans they had made with that awful resigned look on his stupid fucking face. All their hopes for the future, their only guiding light through this trip through hell-
"So what was this," she shouted. "What, you just had to get it out of your system? One last hurrah before you die? Bend over Baby and we'll work it out isn't that what you said?!"
"I-no! Yes, that's what I said, but I wasn't sleeping with you because-I wasn't doing it just because of that-"
"So you were doing it partly for that?! What else, Buddy? So that I'd have something of you for when you're a corpse?" His sudden and deafening silence confirmed that particular hit and Violet felt her whole body practically tremor with rage. She was surprised her legs kept her upright. "Oh! So I can go home and remember the guy who took my virginity fondly?"
"The guy you lov-"
"Oh, wasn't it nice when we fucked for nine days straight? Is that what you meant by fuck it? Really it's just fuck me, isn't it!"
"Because I know what it's like to mourn something you never really had. It's so much wors-"
"Well great, I got a notch in my brand new bedpost and you got your rocks off, so you can die without any regrets! Great for you! You never give a thought to how I'd feel about it. You don't care what I think, it doesn't matter to you!"
"Of course I do-"
"If you care so much about what I think, then why am I just now finding out about this now?"
"Because look how you're reacting!"
"Of course I'm reacting this way! Do you think I want to go on and wander the world, sick and heartbroken because you're not there? Do you think I want to live-"
"AT LEAST YOU'D LIVE."
Even seething, Buddy's screaming was so rare, his emotions so violent, it was able to shock Violet into silence. She hadn't been able to see through her red haze, so focused on cutting and punishing him for his stupid assumption, that her words had been stoking his own fire. By now he was as red as his hair, expression twisted in a monstrous display of rage.
"You don't get it, do you?! Nothing penetrates that thick fucking skull does it?! You still can't see anything beyond your own perception! Did you ever stop to think for one fucking moment that you matter more to me than anything?! You matter more than revenge, more than killing Fell and I will die before he gets another chance at you!
"Do you think I want to live in a world where you're not here any more than you do?! It's a fucking nightmare out there. You're the anomaly! You're the glitch in the system, Violet! Not because you're a hero, or because of your powers, because of you. Everyone else is like Fell or the NSA, or your parents or Echo. Selfish, blind, and binary and I cannot live in that kind of world alone. That's the difference between us-you could go on, but I'd go insane! No mourning, no pining, no staring off into the sunset and thinking about what once was and might have been! Fucking insane if I had to live knowing you were gone forever I couldn't-"
He stopped, on the verge of hyperventilating. For the very first time, Violet could see the cracks that cut deeper than the scars, fragmented ideas that had wedged so deeply into the mosaic of his consciousness they made up the foundations of his mind. And why not? Everything so far had gone to convince him of the accuracy of such thinking. He pressed the heels of his palms to his temples and paced, looking something like mad. Her feet were frozen, and she couldn't move, shocked into stillness by something more powerful than memory.
Buddy took a couple of deep breaths, and Violet wondered for a panicked second if their screaming had glitched out his 'heart'. But he just kept pacing, trying to steady his oxygen intake. When he spoke, the strain made his voice all metal, "You can't ask me to do that. I can't. I can't lose you, I can't lose something I care about so much again. But it's not like Syndrome–it's so much worse. If I lost you I...I'd never...I couldn't…Please don't ask me to." Finally, he seemed to remember she was still there with him, eyes bright with unshed tears in the moonlight. He grasped her arms, shaking her slightly "Please don't ask me to do that. I can't do that. I'm not strong enough for that, not that, please. Please, Violet. Please."
Believe me, I will never beg again. The sound of his pleading was enough to reanimate her. She shrugged off his hands, fingers finding his face, holding the once fearsome visage with reverent care. "If we protect each other, I won't have to."
"I'm so afraid, Vi," he breathed. "I'm scared shitless that you'll do something stupid and heroic like sacrificing yourself and-"
Her thumbs on his lips were enough to stop his words. They were still soft and kiss swollen to her touch. "Don't you ever stop talking," she teased weakly. "What don't you get, Buddy? You aren't alone, you weren't before, and you aren't now. You haven't looked beyond your own perception of things. Protection isn't a zero-sum calculation-if we save each other, no one has to die. Your fate isn't coded into your system-you're made of metal but you're not actually a computer! People aren't machines and your function isn't to always fail. You aren't made to die; you don't want to-I know that. You don't want to die any more than when you were on that kitchen table."
"I don't want to lose you, more." His hands squeezed, pulling her closer as if giving word to the fear might make it spontaneously manifest. Violet pressed her cheek against his silent chest, hugging the unnatural firmness of his body to her. For a brief moment, she almost felt how it could possibly be-the flesh cold and gritty with death, the limbs stiff as stone, more statue than man and just as dead.
No-that would not be. Violet would set a thousand hospitals ablaze, burn down every inch of Tokyo before that happened. She would become the villain she always feared if it meant Buddy was safe with her.
"You aren't going to lose me. And you're not dying." She closed her eyes, the tears leaking over her cheeks. "Who would I ask questions without you?"
She felt Buddy relent, felt him exsanguinate tension as his arms came about her, holding her pinned to his chest the way she liked. She dared another look into his face and was glad to see the madness, too, had been bled from him. Now all that was left was fear. "You're doing it again."
"What?"
"You're killing me, princess. The hope you give me is killing me."
"You'll live." She rolled to her tiptoes and pressed a kiss that tasted like tears to his mouth.
His hand came around her throat, thumb against her heartbeat, still racing and strong. Reassured, Buddy kissed her back, almost savagely. Desperation coursed through them both in a vicious cycle, Violet grasping his shoulders, Buddy's free hand tangling in her hair to hold her mouth to his.
Violet only noticed the slant of light that had fallen across them when Buddy suddenly ripped back from their kiss, trying to pull out of her embrace all together. Pivoting, Violet's head snapped to the door, only able to see the outline of her father through the sudden brightness. Apparently, their screaming had tested the soundproofed door.
And tonight, she had forgotten to lock it.
Buddy grabbed her arm tight, pulling her behind him, shielding her from the silent fury wafting into the room. "Just listen," he said. But there was nothing that could have explained the sight of Bob's daughter in another man's shirt, the man in question intruding into her room in nothing but underclothes.
Often, Violet forgot just how fast her father could be-years of training and practice gave him speed that was belied by his build. But faster than she could register, Bob had grabbed Syndrome and flung him from the room. By the sound of it, tossed him so far he tumbled down the stairs.
Shouts were immediate, doors on either side of the hall filing open with cries of surprise. Dash smacked into the hall's wall with the speed at which he came out, still bleary-eyed from sleep. Liam for his part had his AR-18 in his hands, ready to protect his wife from intruders, said bride skittering out into the passageway behind him
When everyone saw the tableau before them-Mr. Incredible at the top of the stairs shaking with rage, Buddy crumpled at the foot, already trying to scuttle away-there was immediate and terrible understanding.
"Aw shite," Liam muttered.
"Dad!" Violet chased after her father as he descended the stairs, already on the tail of Buddy who had wisely figured outside was his best escape. The culprit burst through the glass door into the backyard, tripping over himself in haste.
"Listen to me old man! I-"
"You slept with my daughter!"
On his way out Bob had grabbed one of the living room chairs, and flung it at Buddy. It shattered in a shower of wood fragments and rent fabric only a few feet from the man, sending slumbering birds in the forest rocketing into the sky with squawks of protest. The villain stumbled away, guarding his head with his arms. From the house, Mirage was still trying to make it down the stairs with repeated cries of not the face, not the face!
"You scummy monster! You seduced my little girl!"
"I–we–listen!"
"You've been trying to get her this whole time and you lied about it!"
"I didn't! It wasn't like that. Listen we just–"
"What was this?! Some ultimate revenge, Syndrome? First my youngest now my oldest?!"
The accusations, as well as the title, seemed to flip a switch in Buddy. He stopped stumbling his way around the backyard, placating hands dropping as his spine straightened. No longer was he trying to explain. He moved, putting the forge between him and the super, slowly stalking. "You?! Jesus Christ, you could rival some villains with that ego of yours! Not everything is about you, you fucking lunatic!"
"When it's my little girl it is!"
"Have you seen her?!" Buddy flung a hand in Violet's direction. "She's a woman–and did you think you could've kept a lady as hot as that locked up forever? She can make her own choices! She's not a little girl and sorry to tell you, but she's not yours either!" Now the look of madness returned. "She's mine now-and she wants to be!"
"How dare you even think that I would let-"
"There's no let about it! She asked me, did you know that? Your precious daughter wanted me. And you told me to treat her with respect. What more respectful thing could I do besides accept, huh?!" Buddy's eyes were wild with hatred, a manic grin crawling over his features as they fainted, chasing each other around the stone forge. "She's not even a Parr anymore. She's going to be my wife. When this is over she'll be a Pine–she's already accepted!"
"You molested her and tricked her into thinking you loved her! How can you love her without a heart? You're nothing more than a failed hero, a failed villain, and a failed lab experiment!"
"You don't care about her! You're angry that she isn't yours to control! That she sees what you really are! Not a man, not a hero but a pathetic pretender. And now she has someone that's real!"
"You little wormy bastard I should have let Voyage blow you up!"
"I should have killed you when I had the chance!"
They might have gone on happily abusing one another until the sun came up had they not been distracted by the sudden humming purple dome that encased them. The half-sphere shrunk around them and then began to slide across the grass, carefully melting over the forge, but keeping the men inside as it scooped them up. Just the people, just the living, just them… Violet felt their fists beat against the sphere faintly in her chest as she hovered them straight over the pool and dropped them into the water. Finally! She'd mastered that trick.
Flicker her wrist, she cast a forcefield over the surface of the water, holding it there and keeping them under until she figured they'd had enough. Both men broke the surface, clinging to the edge of the pool, spluttering. Violet stood in front of them, just out of reach of their splash marks on the stone, hands on her hips. "Are you done?"
Buddy flicked his bangs out of his eyes, glaring at her father. "Fuck you, you piece of s-"
Violet decided he needed a bit more time under the water, and sure enough, when he was allowed to rejoin the living, he had no more comments to make. "Now both of you get out of the pool. Some of us have to get up in the morning."
Helen came forward with no great speed to lend a hand to her husband, while Violet merely looked on as Buddy heaved himself back to earth.
"Vi...listen to me," her father started, still recovering from his dunk. "I know what you're feeling right now seems like it's forever but-"
"But he's not like us," Violet concluded. "He's a villain, and even without the mask, he's an arms dealer. Rude, pompous, scathing, stupid, and cruel. He won't be able to be with me, try and change me into something I'm not. He won't be able to live with me, give me a real family and a home like other men could. And this is all just because of the excitement of chasing Fell and the stress of the mission. Does that about cover it?"
Her father blinked dumbly at her, then seemed to relax, giving her a sympathetic smile. From behind, Helen shook her head, seeing the trap Violet was laying. "Yes, sweetheart. See, you understand."
"Oh, I understand alright." Violet folded her arms. "I understand that all girls marry their fathers. I thought I'd be different, but hey, here we are."
The shocked and displeased "What" came from both men.
"You and he are just the same and it's my bad luck that I love you both. Pig-headed, volatile, stubborn, you always think you're right, you have no time for anyone else's opinions and you take the whole world on your shoulders as if it was your purpose in life."
"I am nothing like that...cretin!"
"And I am not-"
"You want back in the water," Violet snapped at Buddy before he even began. "I'm still pissed at you. And he's my father, Buddy. Nothing you say is going to change that. I love him and I sometimes love you so if you really were serious about what you said, then you're going to have to suck it up and deal with it."
"You really asked her to marry you? Isn't that a bit soon? Nothing against you, lass, of course." Liam, who had been hanging back with the two other women chose the worst moment to inquire. Buddy glared at him while Bob rounded on the scott.
"You knew about this?!"
He looked between father, daughter, and friend. "I...Well, I had eyes to see." At the look on Bob's face, he immediately shrank back to stand with his spouse, who was next.
"I don't suppose I should even ask you."
"Being forced to listen to She's Not There that many times does give one a hint," Mirage explained coolly.
Wrangling them all back to the argument at hand, Violet continued, "You two are exactly the same because all the reasons you just agreed with were the same ones he gave me before we docked. He was right when he aired our private business-" this she sent over her shoulder, and Buddy had enough sense to shrink back a little in shame "-that I went after him."
"He's a killer, Vi, he-"
"And we aren't, even by proxy? Doesn't deserve a second chance, because of his mistakes? Should hide away because of what he is, or what he's done, Mr. Incredible? So his Syndrome identity-his secret identity should become his only identity?"
"You know that's not what I mean," Bob snapped. The old mantra of the anti-super movement was something they all knew by heart. "Don't try and twist this around Violet. He's not the kind of man you think he is."
"Is that why you'd take out his file every year and drink until you couldn't see anymore? Or was it because you regretted the past because you thought you sent a good boy on the wrong path? God the both of you." Violet threw up her hands. "Aren't you two tired?! Aren't you sick of carrying this grudge around? You're like children who refuse to take their medicine and then complain about the flu and infect everything around you because you refuse to make it better. Is this how you both want to live the rest of your lives, constantly chained to the past? Is that the kind of men you want to make of yourselves?"
Only the crickets answered her. Violet was about to give up and return to the house when Buddy took her fingers, holding them tightly. Then he pulled her behind him, not to shield her, but to place himself in front of the super. She suspected she was about to get a rare gallant declaration on top of his earlier moment of romanticism.
"Look," he started without meeting the man's eyes. "I get it. She's your daughter and you probably don't want her to go with anyone, let alone someone twice her age who tried to down her in a jet. Believe me, I didn't plan on falling in with some kid who my worst nightmare spawned." Maybe not so gallant. "But I-she and I-we just work. We tried the ignoring it thing, we tried the friends thing and it's…she's–we are just right for each other. I can't explain it, but I'm not trying to steal her away and make her into something she's not just to piss you off. I wouldn't...I wouldn't love her that way, even if I did."
The shock of happy delight at hearing those words finally fall from his lips was dampened a bit by Dash standing by the glass door making a rather loud gagging noise. Still, she squeezed the hand she still had a hold of and moved to his side, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. Then she looked to her father.
Bob looked so hurt that Violet almost broke. But she stayed stead, meeting his gaze unwaveringly–though she might have tried her best to give the classic 'dad please' eyes she never quite perfected in childhood. He gave her a pleading look, even looking behind him at the rest of the audience for support. But there was none to be found; they had become a team, all of them together, and stood waiting for Bob, not Violet, to recognize his place in it.
At least, she saw him relent by the way his shoulders slumped. Violet knew it wasn't the end of the conversation, and that he would try again and again to pull her away before time finally softened acceptance. But at least for now, the battle was lost, and war put on hold.
Buddy squeezed her hand, taking a tentative step forward and offering a rare olive branch; after all, he had come out the somewhat victor of this particular Mr. Incredible fight and lived to tell about it. "I get that you're mad because of how you found us. No Dad wants to see that crap. I wouldn't blame you if you decked me, t-"
Violet barely made it out of the way before Buddy was flung backward yet again. He sprawled on the ground some feet away, clutching his stomach where Bob's fist had connected. "Dad!"
"You heard him," Bob excused, gesturing at the prone, groaning man.
As Violet knelt to tend to her beloved, Mirage finally pushed her way past Dash and Liam in the doorway. "This was all a very fine performance, thank you. But we now have only sixteen hours to sleep, dress, and prepare for tomorrow. So if everyone would kindly return to the house?"
"Come on honey," Helen said, pulling Bob towards the door. "We can argue about this when we're back in America. We should all be in bed."
"Does that mean we're gonna have to see him all the time now," Dash whined, following his parents up.
"Did you know he was proposin'? He didn't breathe a word to me," Liam asked his wife in a stage whisper.
"No, who proposes without a ring? Let's go, I am not going tomorrow with bags under my eyes."
Violet had gotten Buddy up to his knees by that point, though he was still doubled over. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah. I think my lower intestine got pushed up to my throat, but I'm just fine, princess." He leaned his head against her shoulder, face still screwed in pain. "But if you want to do a full-body exam, I won't object."
He wasn't that hurt. "You're lucky if I don't make you sleep on the floor."
"Oh c'mon-I took a punch for you! Doesn't that mean anything?"
"You deserved everything you got. Don't think I haven't forgotten how you planned on hopping onto Fell's altar tomorrow night." She wrapped one of his still damp arms around her shoulders and helped him get to his feet, wondering how much of his leaning on her was needed and just how much was for show.
"I thought women liked all that noble shit."
"I'm an anomaly, remember? Do you want to stand out here fighting or do you want a shower?"
"Shower, absolutely shower. And makeup sex."
"Pick one."
"Prude."
"Pig."