Disclaimer: I do not own Static Shock or The Incredibles

Chapter Four: Adjustment

Early the next day Francis got his own, real room. One that didn't lock automatically when the door shut. Of course, Bob put a lock on the door anyway, just in case. It was a guest room that Helen had cleared some unpacked boxes out of. There was a bed, a closet, and a dresser. Francis wrinkled his nose at the pastel green bed coverers but overall, a vast improvement over the basement cell.

Francis threw the duffel with his stuff in it down on the bed and started unpacking. It was while he was unpacking that he realized he really didn't have many things. His clothes fit in the dresser with room left over. The closet stood bare. He had nothing left to unpack. It was a little depressing actually. At least he had been living in his old apartment for a few years and it had that lived-in feel to it. Not to mention guys from his crew were constantly leaving stuff there and Francis had accumulated some odds and ends over the years that hadn't been to important enough to take, although he missed them now. His apartment had never felt as empty as this room. Francis flopped down on the bed. At least the mattress was comfortable, and he was actually getting natural sunlight now. Things could be worse.

Helen knocked on his open door, peering into the room. Francis raised his head to look at her.

"So? What do you think?" She gestured around the room.

Francis shrugged one shoulder. "S'okay."

"All unpacked?"

Francis nodded.

"Oh." Helen noticed the empty closet. "Huh."

"What?" Francis sat up on his elbows.

Helen smiled. "Nothing. Breakfast's in a few minutes." She ducked out of the room.

Francis took that as his cue to wash up and head to the kitchen.

"Nice face." Virgil commented when Francis walked into the kitchen, taking in the dark, ugly bruise that had spread over Francis' nose and cheeks. Doc Sunbright, the only doctor qualified to treat Supers, had stitched the wound and taped a bandage over it.

"Back at you." Francis slid into the seat farthest away from Virgil, staring sullenly at the table.

Helen and Bob were laying various breakfast dishes down on the table. Lucius ducked into the kitchen wearing a suit, poured himself a cup of coffee, half-hugged his son, and then darted away, clearly late for work. Violet walked in carrying Jack-Jack and set the baby in his high chair, which happened to be next to Francis. The teenaged girl looked at Francis' face and winced. "Ouch."

"Yeah, I get it. I look like shit." Francis mumbled.

Bob smacked the back of the pyro's head as he walked past. "No swearing."

Dash sped into the kitchen and hopped into a chair. "Did you make pancakes Mom?"

"Sure did sweetie." Helen put a plate in front of her son and sat down. "No school again?"

Virgil shook his head. "Nope. People are saying the school's going to stay closed. The principal got fired and the police are still combing the area."

Violet nodded her agreement. "Yeah, Jenna and Sam transferred schools. I heard a lot of kids are looking to transfer."

"Well, I think that's ridiculous. A perfectly good school is just going to sit around empty?" Bob voiced his opinion.

"People don't feel safe there anymore. It's natural to seek alternatives." Helen countered.

Francis took advantage of the debate to pour himself a cup of coffee. The less attention on him, the better.

Dash frowned and picked at his food. "It's not fair. Vi and Virg don't have to go to school anymore but I do."

Bob put a hand on Dash's shoulders and smiled. "Terrorists didn't raid your school son."

Dash's frown deepened. "It's still not fair."

"I am enjoying sleeping in." Virgil said with a grin.

"Don't play with your food." Helen scolded Dash. "Finish up and hurry or you'll miss the bus."

Dash pushed himself away from the table. "Aw, can't I run? I promise to be careful."

Both Helen and Bob shook their heads simultaneously. They were both far more liberal about the children using their powers ever since Syndrome but neither was prepared to take unnecessary risks concerning their secret identities.

"Aw." Dash whined and got down from the table with a petulant frown.

"Dishes." Helen reminded him.

Dash took his plate to the sink and went to get his backpack before leaving for school.

Francis sipped at his coffee, watching the family. Since he'd been at the Sanctum this was the longest a group meeting had gone without yelling.

"So what your plans for today?" Bob asked the table.

"Mom and me are going shopping for Homecoming dresses." Violet said excitedly.

Virgil looked at Bob. "I was going to ask if I could have the Loft for a few hours. I want to work on some flight aerials."

Bob nodded. "No problem V." Then he directed his steely blue gaze at Francis. "Let me go ahead and tell you your plans for shall I? Training. All day."

Francis grinned sarcastically. "Sounds like fun."

"Don't be a smart ass." Bob responded.

"No swearing." Francis reminded him.

The coffee mug in Bob's grasp cracked.

Helen put a restraining hand on her husband' arm. "Actually Bob I was thinking we could delay the start of Francis' training until tomorrow."

Bob looked at his wife. "Why?"

"He's going to come shopping with me and Vi."

"Huh?" Francis looked up.

"What? Mom, why?" Violet asked in dismay.

Helen looked across the table at Francis. "I've seen your clothes. Your pants are all two sizes too big and your shirts are two sizes too small. We're going to get you some clothes that actually fit you."

"Not with my money." Bob said.

Helen rolled her eyes. "I was on the phone with Rick this morning and he said that the NSA will assume the costs of Francis' living."

Francis raised one of his eyebrows. "You're getting paid to keep me here?"

"I wouldn't put it that way." Helen said off-handedly.

"Good. Should get something for putting up with him." Virgil muttered. Francis glared at the other boy.

"It's settled." Helen announced. "You're coming with us."

Violet was clearly unhappy at the last-minute addition to their shopping trip. She frowned at Francis. "We leave at eleven. Don't be late."

Virgil smirked at Francis. "Have fun."

Francis trudged along behind Helen and Violet with his head down, not bothering to hide his discomfort. The girls had bobbed from store to store looking at dresses and had yet to find the right one. They had apparently selected a lot of 'Maybes' that they could come back to if they didn't find 'The One.' Girls were so weird. If it fit, get it. Francis rolled his eyes as Violet squealed at a window display and darted into the store at a speed her brother would have been proud of. Helen looked over her shoulder to make sure Francis was still following them before walking in after her daughter.

He was, unhappily. The pyro ducked into the store, winced at the loud music vibrating from speakers along the walls and slunk to a corner where no one would bother him. The only reason he hadn't ditched this little experiment was because Bob had shot him a look before they had left. A look that clearly said, fuck this up and you will wish I had called Dicker. Francis had no doubt that the Parr patriarch would follow up on that threat. It was better to just duck his head and do as he was told for the moment.

As weird and awkward as it was living at the Sanctum with one of his mom's ex-boyfriends, his douche son, and the largest family of holier-than-thou do-gooders on the east coast, it was still better than a government center. Francis shuddered a little at the memory. He hadn't been mistreated in his youth, not really. People just acted like he didn't exist, and that had pissed him off. In fact, most people seemed to treat him with a bit of disdain or disgust. He was never given training for his powers and had been left to figure out most of his skills by himself in secret. They educated him, but sporadically. Francis studied the Civil War five times and never got past the Great Depression. He had the multiplication table memorized but couldn't for the life of him do division. That was one reason why he had re-enrolled himself in school after running away and establishing a residence for himself. Francis felt like he was missing a lot, and he was. Regular schooling helped fill those gaps.

Besides how people treated him, Francis had been lonely. Very lonely. There were no other kids in the center and the Supers who resided there were only passing through on their way to their new lives. Francis was rarely allowed outside and he spent his formative years under fluorescent lighting. Not to mention the strict rules and schedules he had to abide by. Francis hated all of it. Living at the Sanctum was definitely a step up. He would do whatever it took to stay there.

"Francis! Come here!" Helen called from across the store.

Francis' head jerked up when he heard his name. He had gotten lost in his thoughts. Helen was standing outside a dressing room, waving him over.

Francis slouched over to Helen. "What?"

She slapped his shoulder lightly. "Perk up. After we find Vi a dress we're finding you some nice, new clothes."

Francis looked down at what he was wearing. A sweatshirt over a wife beater and loosely buckled jeans with the bottoms cuffed around worn Converse sneakers. "What's wrong with my clothes? I like them."

Helen smiled softly. "Well, yes. They're perfectly good clothes but it doesn't hurt t o have a variety. I didn't see a single collared shirt while you were packing."

Francis shrugged. That's because he didn't have one.

The door to the dressing room cracked open and Violet stuck her head out. "Mom?"

"Yes honey?" Helen turned to look. She put her hands on her hips. "Well, come on out."

Violet looked at Francis and flushed. "I don't know Mom."

Helen looked from Violet to Francis and back again. "You're going to wear this dress to a dance, which means there will be boys there. If you're embarrassed to wear that dress in front of Francis than it's not the right dress."

Violet quickly shook her head. "No! This is my favorite one!"

"Well then, come out." Helen said.

Violet came out slowly, her hands folded behind her back self-consciously. She looked at the floor and then shyly up at her mother. It was a purple spaghetti strap dress with a black trim. It was form fitting around the top and then flowed more freely by her feet.

Helen clapped her hands to her mouth. "Oh! You're so beautiful. My little baby…"

Violet rolled her eye. "Mom." Then she looked at Francis. "Well?"

Francis rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Umm, it's good."

"Really?" Violet grinned broadly.

Francis shrugged. "Yeah."

"Can I get it?" Violet clapped her hands together pleadingly. "Please Mom, please?"

"Of course. Go get changed and we'll meet you at the register." Helen smiled and Violet disappeared back into the dressing room with a skip in her step.

"Let's hit up the food court and then we can start on Francis." Helen said.

Violet smiled and nodded her agreement. "Yeah, I'm starving."

Francis scoffed but trudged after the women. He was so glad nobody he knew would ever be at this mall. Unless they were robbing a store.

Helen slid into a chair at an empty, and relatively clean, table and opened her purse, taking a wad of bills out. She peeled a few away and pressed them into Francis's hand. "Would you mind getting the food? My feet are killing me."

Francis shook his head slowly.

Helen smiled and let out a relieved sigh. "Thank you Francis. I'd like a Caesar salad and a water."

Francis looked at Violet. She swiveled in her chair, taking in all the restaurants littered around the food court. "Um, turkey sandwich and a Coke. Please." She asked politely.

Francis wandered off to get the food. What was he doing? Why was he letting these people order him around and pretty much put his balls up on their trophy case? Oh yeah, they were all that stood between him and Dicker.

Francis scowled at the first server he saw, making the pubescent nerd squeak and dive beneath the counter. Francis smirked. He was still a badass, just not around the Parrs. He could do this. Francis got himself a Coke and returned to the table with all the food to find Violet and Helen speculating on what shoes could be worn with the dress. Francis felt his attention span shrinking. He put the tray down on the table and sank into a chair, sipping at his Coke.

The women both thanked him and started eating, still talking about the dress and its future accessories.

Francis tuned them out and leaned the chair back on two legs, surveying the food court. It was a quiet day at the mall, being the middle of a school day and all.

"Violet! Hi!" Francis looked up and three girls who went to Metroville High School were waving at Violet. She got up and hurried over to them, no doubt to describe her new dress in great detail. Francis rolled his eyes. Girls.

"It's got a cute black trim and…" Violet was in the middle of saying when she noticed none of her friends were listening; they were all staring over her shoulder. Violet looked and saw her mother trying to engage Francis in conversation. He looked miserable and was just nodding yes or no to Helen's prodding.

"Since when do you hang out with F-Stop?" Janie asked in a low whisper.

Violet brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "Um, since yesterday."

"Why?" Tori asked with wide eyes.

"What she's trying to say," Lauren butted in, "is how?"

Violet thought about how to describe the living situation at the Sanctum. "He's staying at my house." She said, careful not to give anything away.

The expressions on her friends' faces indicated they wanted to know more. "Sort of, like a…a…" Violet searched for the right word. "Like a foster home."

"He's a foster kid?" Tori asked.

Violet nodded. "Yup."

"Huh."

Lauren grabbed Violet's arm. "If he's living with you, than you've seen him with his shirt off, right?"

"What?" Violet jerked her arm away in surprise. "No!"

"Too bad." Janie said, smiling at Francis. "He's got a great body."

"You guys!" Violet felt her face reddening. "He's a complete jerk. I don't think of him like that."

Tori shrugged. "He may be a jerk, but he's a jerk with a hot bod."

Violet knew her face was bright red now. She had honestly never even thought about Francis' body. His glaring personality flaws always distracted her.

"Have fun shopping." Lauren said as the girls looked ready to flounce back to their table. They exchanged goodbyes and turned to leave.

Janie smiled over her shoulder. "But not too much fun."

Violet groaned and put a hand over her eyes. Sometimes she wished she were always invisible.

"Here we go. This is a good place to start." Helen announced and walked into a men's clothing store.

Violet was about to follow her mother in when she noticed Francis. He was standing motionless with his hands in his pockets, staring into the store apprehensively.

Violet pulled on his sleeve. "C'mon."

Francis shook his head. "I don't wanna."

Violet frowned. "What do you mean? It's just shopping. Shopping's fun."

"I don't really shop." Francis muttered, a furrow developing between his eyebrows.

Violet sighed. "It's just a couple of shirts. It's not a big deal." Francis still didn't move. "Look, I tried that dress on in front of you and that made me uncomfortable, but I did it and I'm really glad I did because I love that dress. Even if something is uncomfortable at first doesn't mean it will stay that way." She pulled at his sleeve again. This time Francis let Violet pull him into the store.

In the end, Francis didn't do much shopping. Helen flitted from rack to rack choosing items for him. All Francis had to do was try them on. Helen found him a dressing room and practically shoved him in with a bundle of clothes.

Francis spent the next half hour struggling in and out of clothes. Each item was scrutinized by Helen and Violet and given a thumbs up or a thumbs down. Francis had to admit, he did look good in some of these clothes and it was mostly casual stuff he felt comfortable in. Francis had to assume the jeans, cargo shorts, and t-shirts were courtesy of Violet and the button-down shirts and sweaters were from Helen.

Francis had his shirt off and was in the process of taking off a pair of pants when the dressing room door swung open. "Here, try these on." Helen thrust another pair of pants at him.

Francis yelped and hit the mirror behind him, his legs tangling in the pants.

Helen rolled her eyes. "Oh please honey. I have two boys. It's nothing I haven't seen before." She turned and shut the door.

Francis stared at the closed door trying to catch his breath. He was uncomfortable again.

Violet stared at the closed door her mother had just swung shut. She had to admit, Francis did have a good body.

"I think those khakis will look really good on him." Helen said, folding some clothes beside her daughter.

Violet looked away and rolled her eyes. "Mom, they have people to fold the clothes. You don't have to do that."

"It's polite." Helen explained.

"It's their job." Violet argued.

Helen looked at Violet. "Didn't you see some of those plaid over shirts in the back? "

Violet nodded enthusiastically, knowing what her mother was saying. "Oh yeah, those would be great."

Francis collapsed onto his bed with a groan. He had never been so exhausted. He hated shopping. Francis lifted his head to look at the bags he had dropped at the foot of the bed. He hated to admit it, but he kind of liked what he had gotten. And getting new stuff didn't mean he had to stop wearing his old stuff.

There was a knock on the door. Francis didn't move or make a sound.

The door opened a crack and Dash looked in. "Hi."

Francis gave a half-nod.

"Lucius brought back pizza for dinner." Dash said quietly.

"Okay." Francis sat up and ran a hand through his spikes. "I guess that means I gotta go to the kitchen now?"

Dash nodded. "Yup."

"Thanks squirt." Francis threw his legs over the side of the bed and got up, stifling a yawn. He was seriously tired.

Dash grinned and waited in the doorway to walk to the kitchen with Francis.

Francis took a can of pop from the fridge and sat down, trying to be invisible. The Parrs and the Bests were all talking loudly, enjoying each other's company. Hands were reaching for pizza and stories were being swapped loudly and energetically. Virgil was explaining to his dad how he had beat his pervious best time on the aerial obstacle course that afternoon and Helen was grilling Dash about his day at school. The table was more chaotic than Francis had ever seen it but there were smiles on everyone's faces.

The meal almost passed without incidence. Almost.

During a lull in the conversation, Helen turned to look at Francis and then at the bare table in front of him. "Why aren't you eating anything?"

Francis looked up in surprise. He was sure he had fallen off the radar for the moment. "Um…"

"You know, he didn't eat anything at breakfast either." Bob added.

Now everyone was looking at Francis. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't stop his face from reddening.

"Or at the mall." Violet added.

"What gives Hothead? You watching your figure?" Virgil asked with a hint of a sneer.

"No." Francis shot back, staring down at the table.

"You haven't eaten anything all day. Come to think of it, I didn't see you eat anything yesterday either." Helen recalled. She looked faintly worried now. "You must be starving. What's wrong? Why aren't you eating?"

Francis didn't answer.

"She asked you a question." Bob said.

Francis mumbled something indecipherable.

"What?" Bob asked.

"I'm…" Francis let out a deep breath. "I have food allergies okay?"

Lucius clapped a hand over Virgil's mouth to keep him from laughing.

"Oh." Helen smiled. "Is that all? That's not a problem. What are you allergic to?"

"Wheat." Francis muttered, his face a bright red from embarrassment.

"Oh." Helen said again, with far less relief. "That…that includes a lot."

"It explains why you're not eating the pizza." Violet said around a mouthful of pepperoni.

Francis cocked his head to the side. "Well, yeah. This table's pretty much a death trap."

"That's no problem. No problem at all." Helen declared after a moment of awkward silence. "What sort of things can you eat?"

Francis shrugged and slouched in his seat. He'd never actually admitted to having a wheat allergy before and it had never come up because he'd been in charge of what he ate for the last five years. He didn't like having it out in the open now. "Fruit, vegetables, rice. Non-gluten stuff."

"I'll go shopping tomorrow." Helen assured the pyro.

"In the meantime, you gotta eat something." Lucius said and stood up, heading for the fridge. "Want an apple?"

Francis nodded. He was hungry.

Lucius tossed him the fruit and Francis expertly snatched it out of the air and hungrily took a bite.

Slowly, conversation resumed around the table. Francis tossed his apple from hand-to-hand, much happier now that he had some food in his stomach.

"Bob, have you read Francis' file?" Helen slid into bed next to her husband.

"No. Why?" Bob was sitting, propped up by several pillows, reading a book.

Helen shoved some papers under his nose. "He has some real medical issues we didn't know about."

"So, what does that mean?" Bob asked not taking his eyes from the pages.

"It means if he ever gets sick we're going to have to be really careful about how we treat it." Helen answered. "It's not the sort of thing where if he got the flu we'd give him a bowl of soup and send him to bed. He might have to go to the hospital."

Bob looked up, sighed, and shut his book. He glanced over at his wife. "Look, I know this is probably serious stuff, but I think the kid knows how to handle himself. He's managed on his own for a long time. If he needs help, he can ask for it. Until then, he's still some punk kid I don't trust and don't want under my roof."

Helen laid aside the papers with a huff. "You know what Bob, you have to stop treating Francis like a prisoner. This is not a prison. This is my home."

"The kid could do with some discipline. You can't argue with that." Bob defended himself.

"I think you're taking it a little too far." Helen argued.

Bob threw his hands up in frustration. "Tell you what, you do things your way, and I'll do things my way."

Helen frowned. "You are the most stubborn man on the entire planet."

"Well now that's just ridiculous." Bob said simply. "Have you met everybody on the planet?"

Helen looked at her husband silently and reached for the bedside light, plunging the room into darkness.

"Oh my god. I won a fight." Bob said into the dark. "I actually won a fight!"

Author's Note:

Um...yay!? I dunno. Not sure what to say right now. I like this chapter I guess. It's okay. A lot of it sounded better in my head, but oh well. Also, I fear I am starting to write Helen less as Helen and more like my mom. That dressing room intrusion thing, actually done my Bubbie. A lot more awkward. I happen to know a number of people who have wheat allergies and we know Francis has some sort of mysterious medical history so I figured, why not? Yup.

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