Disclaimer: If I owned the Incredibles, would I really be writing fanfiction?

Author's Note: Thanks to both Ms. Kinnikufan and Spindle Berry for the suggestions. Ms. Kinnikufan, I hope that this chapter answers your question. Spindle Berry, I can't thank you enough for the editing. To everyone else, I apologize for the four month long wait, guys. I've already started writing chapter five, so hopefully, you'll only have to wait a week for the next chapter.

Chapter Four: Trust

It was a good thing that Abby had only missed Friday. It had given her time to collect herself emotionally, those two days over the weekend. Though she wasn't very religious, even going to church had helped. When she finally got back to school, she was a little more collected than she had been, and didn't burst out crying in any of her classes that day. She avoided what few friends she had; she told them that she had had the flu, just to get her classmates off her back about skipping school (not that many of them cared, anyway). She even avoided Jack, except to discuss when and where they'd be meeting to work on their history project.

She was relieved when school was finally over. Though people would probably still continue to ask if anything was wrong with her throughout the week, she would savor what little alone time she had in the afternoons.

"Abby!" Someone called as she made her way though the crowded hallway to the exit. She ignored the call. "Abby, wait up!"

Someone placed a hand on her shoulder as she came out of the building. She turned to glare at none other than Jack Parr. "Abby, you've been avoiding everyone all day. What's wrong?" Jack looked genuinely worried, and was wondering if it had been something he had said earlier.

"I don't want to talk about it." Abby flatly, turning in the direction of the nearest park.

Jack followed a couple of steps behind her. "Talking about what's obviously upsetting you would help…" he said in an intonation.

Abby kept silent for about two or three blocks before she spoke again. She didn't notice the clear goop that was now coating her forearms, from her elbows to her tightly clenched fists.

"You know how your dad mentioned that he knew my dad before he went missing, and I said that he… that he died in a car accident?"

"Yeah…" Jack was now walking side by side with Abigail.

"Well, you dad was right." Abby paused. "I found out Friday that my mom has been lying to me for all these years, avoiding the truth. I… I can barely trust her right now."

Her eyes started to tear up. "It's almost like losing him all over again, even though I was too young to remember his disappearance or anything like that." She rubbed one of her eyes with her hand. A hand, she now noticed, that was saturated with an inch or two of some unknown, clear substance. She stared at her hand in shock, one eye still closed; she lifted up her other arm, and sure enough, the clear glop was there too. Jack stared at her hands, then hurriedly steered her into an empty alleyway and behind a dumpster.

"Abby, you've got to calm down…" Jack looked back at the entrance to the alley to make sure that no one was curious as to what was happening. No one was.

The sixteen-year-old girl was silent, her thoughts jumbled. What was happening? Was it coming out again? She had thought after watching that collection of surreal home movies that she no longer had super powers, that her powers had gone dormant, or had just died, disappeared somehow. Yet here was this clear goop coating her arms, creeping upwards, moving. Had it been "boiling" beneath the surface a few minutes ago, when her thoughts had angrily been directed at her mother? She could feel the non-liquid shifting around, moving in every direction as she thought. Was it expressing her confusion in this situation? Just thinking about these things, just concentrating on the event at hand, calmed her down about her mistrust in her mother. Abby was still quite confused and frightened about the stuff on her arms.

As Jack saw Abby calm down slightly, he spoke aloud, "We've got to get you home, but how? Obviously, we can't walk you home. If you have no control, then people will notice the—" he looked at the strange goop on her arms, "The… whatever-it-is on your arms. Perhaps I could call my mom to pick us up and drive you to your—"

"No." Abby had been trying to get the goop off of her arms, to no success, while Jack had been thinking out loud. Whenever she tried to wipe it off, it would harden, making it impossible to move her arms or rub the substance off with her hands.

"Something's happening at home."

Abigail looked at the ground. "Yes."

The daughter of Gazerbeam waited in the Parr's kitchen as the family had a discussion in one of the bedrooms. She had called her mother to let her know that she would be at Jack's house to "work on their project." Of course, her arms and hands had still been covered in the goop – just as they were at the moment—so Jack's mother had had to hold the phone for her… but that was beside the point. Now, she was nervously waiting for Jack and his parents to end whatever discussion they were having.

She heard a door open, and some muffled conversation. Jack came into the kitchen, followed by his mother and father. Mrs. Parr sat down next to Abby, and Jack sat across from her. Mr. Parr leaned against the wall by the doorway into the kitchen.

Jack spoke first; "So, uh, obviously, you have super powers…"

"We've covered that already," Abby mumbled, staring at her still-goo-encased forearms. She didn't smile—she was thinking about what her mother would say.

"Have you ever heard of the National Supers Agency?" Helen Parr asked.

"The NSA? Yeah. Mr. Di—"she stopped. "Wait. How do you know about it?"

Bob Parr directed a mumbled remark at his son. "Now's as good a time as any," he said. His voice revealed a level of impatience; he didn't seem as calm or as suave as he usually was.

"Um, Abby…" Jack looked at his mother as if to verify something—she nodded.

"She was going to find out eventually, sweetie. Go on."

Jack seemed to gain a little confidence when his mother nodded. "I'd like you to meet Mr. Incredible and Elastigirl," he said. Then he paused, as if the moment had some kind of dramatic value. "…otherwise known as Mr. And Mrs. Parr, my parents."

Abby stood up, staring at Helen and Bob—Elastigirl and Mr. Incredible? —in disbelief. "No—you're not" she stuttered, "—you're lying." She stood up and backed toward the kitchen counter, the goop on her arms hardening in defense.

Helen leaned towards Abby. "Abigail, calm down… We can prove it to you." Abby tried to back up further, but was stopped by the counter. "We're not going to hurt you."

Mrs. Parr sighed, and then stretched her arms so they touched the opposite side of the room. Mr. Robert "Bob" Parr lifted the kitchen table with one hand as though it were feather-light, then carefully set it down. After their demonstrations, both parents looked at Jack expectantly. Abby first looked at Jack's parents, and then cast her eyes toward him.

"Jack has powers, too." It wasn't a question. It was a statement, silently uttered from Abby's lips. She looked at her friend, confounded.

He gave her a sheepish look, his face slightly red with embarrassment, "You're looking at the superhero known as Transmatter."

A bemused look lingering on her face, Abby looked on as Jack demonstrated one of his many powers. His eyebrows knit together as he concentrated, and his right hand started to glow blue.

"Now watch my hand carefully…" He looked at his right hand as he guided it though the table. Abby crouched down to see under the table, and saw Jack's fingers sticking through the underside of it. She felt her stomach churn. Jack quickly pulled his hand out of the table, allowing his digits to solidify. He turned to Abby, who just stared. She turned her back on the Parrs.

"I can't." She said.

"What…?" Bob looked at his wife, a genuinely quizzical look on his face.

"I can't do it."

"What are you talking about?" Jack asked, equally confused.

"You're going to ask me to become a superhero… I could never do it."

"Abigail, we weren't going to ask—" Helen was cut off by the tense teenager.

"Do you have any idea what my mother would think? I could end up getting myself killed, just like my—" her eyes teared in frustration, "…like my…"

"We just want to help." Mr. Parr said sincerely.

"Help with what? With this?" She turned to face them, holding up her encased arms, her hands immobilized by the still hardened goop, "I can't see any possible way you can help with this. None of you even have the same powers as me! If you can even call this a power…"

"You can learn to control it, Abby. Who do you think showed me how?" Jack looked into her fearful eyes, smiling.

"When? My mother would find out eventually… You know she did what she did to protect me." The girl was resentful.

Helen's expression became stern, "We never heard anything. Neither my husband nor I knew about you until a few days ago. We had always thought that Simon would never get married, much less have a child."

"Unless it directly involves hero work, the NSA generally keeps quiet about a super's family," Mr. Parr explained, "What happened?"

Abigail explained that, when she had been five years old, her mother had filled out some paperwork, asking that Abby's memories of her powers be removed. Not only that, but if her powers showed themselves again, Abby would forget about them immediately.

"That doesn't explain why you haven't gotten a sudden case of amnesia right now," Jack mentioned.

Abby paused, "No… it doesn't. I think something in those movies that Mr. Dicker showed me may have triggered something, shut down that barrier in my memory, or something."

"You think so?" Mr. Parr asked. He had never known that memory could be controlled to such a thorough extent.

"It's just a theory, "Abby shrugged; all of the talk had calmed her down considerably, "So… What was it you were saying about control?"