Disclaimer: You know the deal. I don't own "The Incredibles". I only own Abigail and Marie Paladino, and by that, I own the characters, but not the surname. Because that's probably copyrighted, too.

Author's Notes: A big thank you to Ginki and Spindle Berry. As like any writer, I like to get feedback on my work. Plus, the first reviewers always hold a special place in my hea—Yeah, I thought that last sentence was corny, too. Anyway, enjoy the next chapter.

Chapter 2: Research

"When you're done researching, call me on your cell phone so I can pick you up," Marie Paladino had leaned over the passenger seat of her car to talk to her daughter through the window.

Abby sighed, "Mom, I know. You can go now."

She waved goodbye to her mother as the car drove off, turning around to face the massive front of the Metroville Library. Repairs were being made on the right corner of it, as it had been damaged in a recent superhero battle against evil. Nothing new, really. At least the city had grown accustomed to the property damage that these battles resulted in when the Supers Relocation Act had been revoked thirteen years ago. Even Bullet and Invisigirl, two of the Incredible kids, had helped in the reconstruction of the more severely damaged areas of the city. Abby spotted Jack leaning on one of the pillars of the building's front sides, then jogged up the steps. She brushed a stray strand of dark brown hair off her face, greeting him.

"I'm glad to see you're not late." Abby smiled. At least some of the assumptions she had first made about Jack had dissolved. He really was a nice guy.

"I'm the one who suggested that we meet at the library to do research for the project. Why should I be late?" Jack raised an eyebrow, "Let's get inside before all the good computers are taken."

They hurried into the building, prepared to research the superhero Gazerbeam. Although they had been assigned the history project a few days ago, they both agreed that they should get the paper done as soon as possible. They would need the rest of the time to memorize lines, and rehearse their presentation, since it was due in less than two weeks. Jack sat down at the only vacant computer a second before another teen. The girl glared at him as he smiled, apologizing.

"You're so polite." Abby teased as the girl walked away.

"Ain't I?" Jack replied, logging onto the Internet with lighting speed. He brought up a search engine and typed in 'Gazerbeam' before getting what must have been at least twenty pages of links, "Er… Why don't you look for Glory Day articles in the newspaper archives while I sort through all of these?"

Abby nodded as she left Jack with the computer. She came back ten minutes later with a small stack of newspapers. As one of the biggest cities in the country, Metroville had housed an assortment of superheroes over the years. Back in the 'Glory Days', there wasn't a single newspaper or newsreel that failed to feature something about one superhero or another. Titles such as "Baron Von Ruthless Foiled Again!" "Elastigirl Rescues Hostages!" and "Mr. Incredible Saves Cat!" would be scattered throughout the pages of The Metroville Mercury. Of course, as the era of superheroes came to a (temporary) close, the articles were published less and less. The public thought they didn't need supers anymore, that their saviors were causing just as much damage as the villains. More damage, in fact. Needless to say, it wasn't too difficult for Abigail to find a few articles on Gazerbeam.

Meanwhile, Jack had entered the restricted website of the National Supers Agency, also known as the NSA. The NSA had on file every superhero that had been born in the United States of America, and recorded each of their secret identities, residences, and all other sorts of confidential information on said site. Jack scrolled through the list of names, skipping Elastigirl and Frozone; he clicked on Gazerbeam. He skimmed through the information, but found nothing that Abby and he could legally use in their report. As she came back, he quickly closed the window. The government didn't want the public to know anything about the supers, other than their contributions to society as supers - not civilians.

"Find anything?" Abby set the newspapers on a nearby table.

"Nothing much. Not surprisingly, he was a big superhero rights activist. Other than that… nada. We can mention that he had a positive effect on the public, as any of the supers did back then. You know, before the Supers Relocation Act was installed."

"Right."

Hours of researching, brainstorming, and note-taking later, the duo had written a rough draft for their paper. Both of them waited in front of the library after calling their parents to pick them up. Jack scribbled his phone number and address on a spare scrap of paper and handed it to Abigail.

"How 'bout we meet at my house tomorrow so we can work on the presentation?"

"Sure. I'll have to ask if it's all right with my mom, though. She's a bit overprotective, if you know what I mean." Abby let out an anxious laugh.

"I understand completely," Jack noticed his mother's station wagon pulling up to the curb, and walked towards it, "Hopefully, you can come. Who knows? You might be able to stay for dinner."

"Okay, mom. I understand completely. Mrs. Parr will drop me off at our apartment later." Abigail finished the phone call with her mother, closing her flip-open cell phone to end the call. She had been at the Parr's house since three o'clock in the afternoon; it was almost 6 o'clock, now. She and Jack had made significant progress on their project, and had already started composing a script for their presentation. Jack looked at her eagerly as she hung up.

"So can you stay for dinner?"

"Yeah. My mom's working late tonight. Do you think your mom could drop me off at my apartment complex?"

"Sure. Right after we eat."

It was like any other family dinner she had been to. The parents sat at either end of the rectangular table, and the kids sat on the remaining sides. Abigail sat next to Jack. The tall, bulky father, Mr. Parr, tried to break the ice; it was eerily quiet at the table.

"So… Abby. What did you say your last name was?" Mr. Parr looked at his wife. She gave him an apprehensive look.

"Paladino." Abby had no idea why he was asking.

He paused as if to think, "Ah… I thought the name was familiar. I was friends with your father before he went missing."

"Missing? What are you talking about?"

"You mean your mother never—It was in the newspaper fifteen years ago." Helen Parr jumped into the conversation.

"My father… My father died in a car accident fifteen years ago. That's what my mother has always told me."

Mr. Parr suddenly stood up, prepared to retrieve something from his private room, but Mrs. Parr stopped him by shaking her head, "Bob."

The morning after, Abby hummed a tune as she fixed breakfast for her mother and herself. Scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, toast… the works. Mrs. Marie Paladino yawned as she came into the room, carrying the paper. It was a usual routine: the mother and daughter would switch roles; sometimes Mrs. Paladino would fix the meals for the day (not including lunch), and sometimes Abigail would. Abby set down both of their plates at the table, then sat down, staring at her mother. The middle-aged woman looked at her daughter before she reached for her fork.

"Is something wrong, honey?" Her daughter usually wolfed down her food like an animal, in the morning. Yet she hadn't touched any of the utensils sitting by her plate full of food.

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me the truth about dad?" Abby wasn't the type to cry, even in emotionally tense situations such as this. Her voice was settled somewhere between anger and pain.

Her mother was taken aback, "What do you—"

"You know what I mean, mother. You know he wasn't killed in a car accident. You know that he went missing fifteen years ago. Why didn't you ever tell me?" She was raising her voice – never a good sign. The last sentence was almost said through gritted teeth.

"I…" Her mother was speechless. For fifteen years she had kept just one secret from her daughter. She had known that she would have to tell her daughter eventually, but had always thought that she would be the one to bring the subject up.

"Why won't you tell me NOW?" Abigail was crying. Crying for the father she never knew, trying to understand what had really happened to him.

Marie Paladino got up from the table and walked over to the phone in the kitchen, concern written in her eyes. She called back to her daughter, who was still staring at the spot her mother had just left, continuing to cry, "You're staying home from school today, dear. We have a lot to talk about."

Yet the phone number she dialed was not for Abigail's high school. It was a phone number that scarcely anyone in the city – in the country - knew. She stared at the sink full of dirty dishes as the phone on the other end of the line rang. She looked at the back of Abby's head as someone picked up.

"Hello, Rick? It's Marie Paladino. …Yes, it's nice to hear from you, too. Listen. Do you think you could come over?"

"She suspects, doesn't she, Marie? You knew you couldn't hide it from her forever. It's better that the truth be told after all these years." The solemn voice on the other end was as calm as ever.

Marie paused, "How soon can you come over?"