Thank very much Dash, goldfish078 and StreakedWithColor for the kind reviews

This is a far more melancholy chapter

I think it will pick up in a chapter or two but you'll have you put up with it for now

Sorry about that

But yes - Read and Review if you so like

Enjoy! Love LJ xXx

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Throw Me. Chapter Five. It Just Is

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Frozone, Mr. Incredible and Elastigirl arrive by the sides of the minors shortly after the police van has disappeared deeper into the city. Violet, however, is still staring at where it once was and, as Dash briefly and subtly tries to explain the situation to his parents, there is a distant rumble of thunder and the rain starts coming down, quicker and faster.

"I'll see you guys later," Lucius nods at the group and begins to head off, though not before allowing a handful of raindrops to become a flurry of snowfall onto the delighted Dash's springy blonde hair. "Goodnight."

"Come on, kids – let's go home," Bob interrupts Violet's gaze gently and turns her to face back in the direction of home. "It's late," he adds, though it isn't but for once, no-one complains.

Sitting outside in the garden, Violet Parr likes it when it rains; she enjoys watching with some amazement, everytime, the way the drops slide over the apparent nothing-ness of her invisible shoulders and arms. So absorbed in the way the rain hits her unseen feet, she doesn't hear the back door open and someone step out. Someone comes to sit beside her on the patio table; Violet can hear the drive of rain against their umbrella but she herself makes no sound in response.

"Vi?" her mother murmurs with little hesitation into the empty air beside her. Helen Parr turns to see one hand appear, suspended, on her left and she reaches out and takes it with her own.

"How do you always know where I am, even when you can't see me?" Violet asks, eventually. Helen smiles.

"I'm your mother," she answers, with a shrug. "Vi – Dash told us about Tony."

"He didn't do it." Vi replies shortly but feels her mother's hand tighten around hers; it was something they always did when she wanted to talk without being seen – just so Helen knew she was still there.

"Honey, sometimes when you really like someone and believe you know them, you don't want to see it any other way," Helen proceeds delicately.

"He didn't do it, Mom."

"You've got to admit that it doesn't look that way, honey. How do you know?"

"Because I do, Mom. I just do. He wouldn't do something like that. He's not like that." Violet appears fully next to her mother and turns to her with wide and imploring eyes. Helen only strokes back her daughter's soaking wet hair and moves the umbrella over to cover her instead.

"Come inside, honey. You need to dry off and get to bed before you get sick." Helen puts an arm around her obliging daughter and guides her back inside.

But before Violet goes to sleep, she sees her mother smile kindly at her. The kind of smile that warmed her on the surface but held back a sort of sadness at the idea that she, Helen, believed her unwavering faith in Tony was false and was just waiting for her to come around to the parentally-approved view. Perhaps, after all, they just could not understand.

"It's tricky," Mirage said finally breaking the silence in the living room. It is just she and Helen sitting there, coffee cups in hand; Helen is blank and has been staring at the same patch of carpet for ten minutes so Mirage felt the need to say something.

"Huh?"

"The situation," she explains. "With Violet. It's tricky."

"Tricky doesn't quite cut it – try impossible." Helen replies with a slight smile. "You should have come along; what are your powers anyway?"

"Like the name – mirages and hallucinations. They used to be quite good, but I'm out of practice," Mirage confesses. "And anyway, I've been banned from using them for another year. They've implanted something under my skin that will alert the authorities when I'm using my powers – in response, I would get an electric shock from it."

She says it all with a small laugh.

"Wow." Helen comments and pauses before asking, "If you don't mind me asking, why did you choose to work for him?"

"Syndrome? I don't know, it was all quite overwhelming; I don't think I ever stopped to think about what I was doing, sometimes things are easier that way," she answers. "Look at your daughter. You believe her boyfriend tried to steal from a bank but she still sees him as innocent, though everything points at guilty."

"And don't you think he meant to do it? It's impossible. We all saw it."

Mirage shrugs her shoulders again and wraps her fingers around the now-empty coffee mug.

"I don't know. Not all things are calculated. Not everything is based on rationality, on technicality, on reason. Some things you just know. Some things you can only feel. I would've thought that you, of all people would've known that." she tells her gently.

Helen looks at her as though she'd only just realised she was there. Then her eyes flicker to the closed bedroom door of her daughter and the ajar one of her eldest son from which she can hear Bob Parr trying as best as he can to answer the torrent of random questions that the hyperactive ten-year old is throwing at him.

"I'd better get back," Mirage murmurs, setting her coffee cup down and getting to her feet.

Helen doesn't really hear her, though, and Mirage quietly heads back to her new rented apartment only two blocks away.

Some things you can only feel...

She shakes herself, washes the mugs up in the kitchen and goes to bed.

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