Disclaimer: I do not own Static Shock or The Incredibles

Chapter Twenty-Four: Bottled Up

The next morning Helen tentatively went to Francis' room and knocked softly. There was no answer. She pushed the door open, expecting to find the teenager sleeping soundly in his bed. The room was empty. The bed was untouched. Helen's brow furrowed worriedly. That meant Francis had either not slept at all, or had already made his bed. Which seemed extremely unlikely. In all of his time at the Sanctum, Francis may have made his bed three times, and only when directly ordered to do so.

Helen shut the door and checked the living room and kitchen. No Francis. Dash was sitting on the carpet watching Saturday morning cartoons. He looked up as his mother entered the room. "Hi mom."

"Morning sweetie." Helen sat on the chair. "Have you seen Francis this morning?"

Dash shook his head. "Nope."

On Saturday morning Dash was always the first one up. The cartoons started at seven in the morning and Dash never missed them.

Helen kept the worry off her face until Dash had returned his attention to the television screen. So where was Francis?

The heavy metal weights went up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Francis kept pumping the weight bar, conscious only of the repetitive motion. His mind was clear. There was only up and down, up and down. Eventually his arms started to ache and then tremble. Since he was lifting without a spotter, it would have been smart to quit then, but Francis kept going. He didn't really want to let his mind think past up and down.

He wasn't even sure how long he had been at it. A couple of hours certainly. He'd started by swimming laps in the pool. It was freezing. The cold of the water had kept his mind off of…other things. When Francis found his mind drifting after several laps, he toweled off and headed to the weight room.

Francis gritted his teeth and struggled to lift the bar off his chest, his muscles protested the movement.

That's how Bob found him, gasping for air and trying to lift nearly 250 pounds off of himself. Bob hurried over and lifted the weights one-handed back onto the rests. Francis sat up and grabbed for a towel he'd slung over the weight bench, quickly mopping his brow. "Thanks."

"What're you doing down here?" Bob asked, taking in the quivering muscles in Francis' arms and trying to calculate how long the pyro had been pumping iron alone.

"Nothing. Working out." Francis replied curtly.

Bob rolled his eyes. "Well, yeah. Obviously. Kind of early isn't it? I think Helen's looking for you."

Francis stared at the tiled floor and then pushed himself off the bench before heading out the door. Bob frowned. Francis didn't usually just flat out ignore him. He followed the teen.

Francis went to the basketball court, or rather the running track surrounding the basketball court. He took the time to stretch a bit before setting off around the track at a blistering pace.

Bob watched Francis complete one lap, then another without breaking stride, a determined look on his face. Bob shook his head softly and then left the room.

A few days went by, then a week, and before the kids were ready for it, spring break was over and they were back to school.

Francis had remained distant since seeing his mother's death, pushing himself physically to keep himself from thinking about it. Everybody in the Sanctum had noticed and were torn on how to react. Bob seemed to think it was best to let Francis be. Helen wanted to intervene, to at least get Francis talking about it. Keeping those kind of emotions bottled up like that never led to anything good.

It wasn't only the Parrs and the Bests Francis had suddenly decided to keep at an arm's length. Despite numerous phone calls and texts asking to meet up over the vacation, Frieda had been ignored by her boyfriend. By the time Francis pulled into the school parking lot, Frieda was fuming.

"Francis." Frieda stomped over to where Francis was stowing his and Violet's helmets. He turned to face her, his face emotionless.

"What?"

Frieda took his arm. "Can we talk? In private?"

They had a few minutes before the bell was going to ring. Frieda led Francis behind the gym before unleashing her fury. "What happened to you? I've been calling you for days! You didn't return a single message. Did something happen?"

When Francis didn't reply Frieda crossed her arms and began tapping her foot impatiently. "I'm going to need an answer here Francis. What's the matter with you?"

Something flashed in Francis' eyes. "Nothing. Nothing is the matter with me. I just didn't call you back. What's the big deal?"

"We had plans over spring break, remember? Then all of the sudden you freeze me out for no apparent reason? That's just rude." Frieda waited for a reaction and when she didn't get one she let out a deep, disappointed breath. "I thought you would at least apologize. I was worried."

"Yeah, well you shouldn't be." Francis muttered, shouldering his backpack strap.

Frieda's eyes widened a bit and then she shook her head. "Whatever's going on with you, let me know when you're done being a jerk. We can talk then." She turned on her heel and walked away, just as the bell rang out.

Francis kicked at the ground and frowned. "Shit."

By the time the final bell rang, things had gotten no better. Francis had had one of the worst days of his life. With Frieda not speaking to him, Francis hadn't realized how lonely his days were. Violet and Richie tried to talk to him every now and again but he wasn't in the mood for their chirpiness. To top it off, Francis hadn't been paying attention in biology and now he had no idea what the homework was even on. The directions might as well have been written in Greek.

Francis slammed his locker shut. And now he had baseball practice. Maybe he could work off some of this aggression there.

Suddenly, Francis was shoved hard from behind. He braced himself against his locker with his hands and then turned, a growl escaping his throat.

Wade was walking past, a gloating smirk on his face. Francis threw his backpack down. Or maybe he could work off that aggression right now.

Wade, noting Francis' anger, only smirked wider and turned to face the other boy. "What's the matter Francis? Didn't hurt ya did I?"

"No." Francis clenched his fists.

"I can fix that." Wade dropped his grin and swung a fist at Francis. He ducked the punch and then tackled Wade to the floor with a snarl. Francis landed several good punches before Wade managed to flip them and then Francis had to bring his arms up to deflect some blows.

Francis wasn't aware of the growing crowd of kids surrounding the rolling, punching, pair or of the teachers struggling to break through the throng. Not until he was yanked to his feet by the music teacher. He tried to lunge at Wade again but Principal Duncan grabbed Francis around the middle and lurched him away from the bigger boy. Several teachers were holding Wade as well, the teen was heaving with angry breaths and blood was dripping from his nose. Francis continued to glare murderously at Wade even as he was pulled away.

"My office. Now!" Duncan ordered loudly.

Francis sat sullenly in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs waiting for Duncan to finish reaming out Wade. His head throbbed painfully and he rubbed at a decent-sized knot beginning to bloom at the back of his head. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the floor.

The door opened and Wade emerged, holding an official looking piece of paper in his hands. He mumbled something under his breath and crumpled the paper before stalking past Francis and disappearing into the hallway.

Duncan stepped into the doorway and motioned Francis in.

As Francis sank into the slightly more comfortable plastic chair in Duncan's office, he continued to glower at everything. Duncan put Wade's file away and pulled out Francis'. "Want to explain to me what happened out there?"

Francis shook his head.

Duncan studied the teenager for a moment and then sighed, flipping open the file before him. "I have to say, I'm disappointed. You've been doing so well. It's been months since you and Wade had an altercation." Francis sank a little lower in his seat.

"I've suspended Wade." Duncan continued. "Several students tell me he initiated the fight. However, unlike last time, you responded physically. This school has a zero-tolerance policy regarding fighting. I'm afraid I'm going to have to suspend you as well."

Francis was about to scoff and say something along the lines of he didn't care, but then he remembered baseball. If he was suspended he couldn't play. And he'd busted his ass to get on that team. And Frieda would only be more disappointed, and Francis hated that look of disappointment on her face.

"Wait, please don't suspend me." Francis sat forward.

Duncan looked up. "Why not? You're going to have to talk to me Francis. I need some answers here." Francis was reminded of that morning, about how he blew off Frieda when she had demanded the same thing.

"Wade started it, yeah. But I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. I'm really sorry about that."

Duncan studied Francis again and he calmly closed the file again. "Francis, is there something you want to talk about? Maybe something at home? I've been watching you since you got here, and up until today you've always shown great restraint when dealing with Wade or any of the other bangers. What was so different about today?"

Duncan, Francis thought, was a pretty good principal. He read him like an open book, something no one at the Sanctum had been able to do.

"Uh…kind of. I…I don't really know how to explain it though." Francis stammered. How could he possibly explain anything about his mom without blowing his cover?

Duncan sat back. "Take your time."

Francis took a deep breath. "It's, okay, it's got to do with my mom."

One of Duncan's eyebrows rose. "I thought you were a foster child, in the care of the Parr family. What, exactly, about your mom happened?"

"She died, a long time ago. When I was a little kid." Francis paused. "I didn't know how she died, until a few days ago." He looked up and Duncan stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. "I saw a video."

The eyebrow jumped a few more inches. "You saw a video of your mother dying?"

Francis nodded.

"Well, I can see how that might lead to some complicated feelings." Duncan sat forward. "And possibly getting into a fight in response to those feelings. Tell you what, I'm not going to suspend you."

Francis looked up. "You're not?"

"No. You are going to serve lunch-time detentions for a month and I also want you to speak with the school psychologist."

Francis scowled at that.

Duncan chuckled lightly. "I know, not something you would ever willingly do. But trust me, sometimes talking things out will make it easier to deal with whatever's going on in your life. I think it would be a good idea."

Reluctantly, Francis nodded. "Okay."

Duncan looked at his watch. "Now, I think you're going to be late for practice. You'd better hurry up and get out there."

Francis grinned, for the first time in days. "Thank you."

Duncan returned the smile. "No problem."

"So, I got an interesting call from your school today." Helen began nonchalantly. She and Francis were in the laundry room, sorting clothes into different baskets. With so many people living under one roof, laundry was a group chore.

Francis looked up from one of Virgil's shirts and tried to gauge Helen's mood, was he in big trouble or was she gearing up for a sentimental heart-to-heart? Helen was busy trying to look fascinated with folding Jack-Jack's onesie. Francis ducked his head and smothered the urge to roll his eyes. Heart-to-heart.

"Yeah?"

"Yes, something about a fight." Helen looked at Francis out of the corner of her eye. "Are you okay?"

"M'fine. Didn't get a good hit in." Francis straightened and set aside the full basket before searching for another.

"Good, although that's not really what I meant."

Francis sighed. "I know."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Again with the talking. Everybody wanted to talk to him. "Not really no."

Helen nodded. "Okay, fine. But Francis? I don't like that you're shutting yourself off like this. I thought we'd come so far. Please don't retreat. We care about you and we want to make sure you're okay. If you don't want to talk to me, anybody here would be willing to lend an ear."

"Helen?" Francis turned to face her. "I appreciate it. I do. But I really don't want to talk about it. I saw my mom die. It messed me up. I'm not going to pretend it didn't. But the longer I think about it the angrier I get. Just give me a few more days and I'll be fine. Or, maybe not fine, but better. I think I'm allowed to be mad for a while."

"Yes. You are." Helen agreed. "Just don't do something with that anger that you'll regret."

Francis looked away. "I think I already did."

"What happened?"

"It wasn't just Wade, although that felt good. I really wanted to hit someone." Francis' hands hovered over a pair of his own jeans. "I got in a fight with Frieda."

"Your first fight?" Helen winced sympathetically. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Grovel for forgiveness." The corner of Francis' mouth quirked up. "I've got to apologize at least. I was kind of a jerk."

Helen smiled softly. "Sounds like a good idea to me. Frieda's a sweet girl."

"Yeah." The smile stayed on Francis' face and the pair went back to the task at hand. After a few beats of silence, Francis continued talking. "Principal Duncan gave me detention and I've got to talk to the school shrink. I sort of mentioned my mom."

Helen paused. "What did you say, exactly?"

"Nothing about how she died or anything like that. Just that I saw a video. He was cool about it. He could've suspended me." Francis said.

"I'm glad he let you explain. He's probably going to call to check up." Helen frowned thoughtfully. "We'd better get a cover story in place."

Another few minutes of comfortable silence. Helen put her basket aside and then reached out to ruffle Francis' hair. "So how was your first day of practice?"

"Frieda! Hey Frieda wait up!"

Frieda turned to look over her shoulder and saw Francis working his way through the crowd of students in the hallway. They were all surging for the doors, eager to get to their cars or buses and go home. Francis was trying to fight the swarm and get to where Frieda and a group of her friends were standing outside the newspaper room. She had an afterschool assignment to cover the first track meet of the season. One of the school's cameras was on a strap around her neck and she fiddled with the lens cap, trying to decide if she wanted to stand there and wait for Francis to catch up or just ignore him and walk away.

Frieda hadn't seen Francis all day, and coupled with ignoring him yesterday, she was starting to lose her resolve to keep up the ice treatment. Yes, Francis had been rude and mean to her. But she missed talking with him at their lockers in between classes, passing notes in Spanish, and eating lunch in the quad together. As Francis neared, his sports bag dangling from one hand, Frieda waved her friends away. They went back into the classroom, all discussing their assignments.

In the few minutes since the bell had rang, the halls had cleared and now there were only a few stragglers and Frieda and Francis standing in the corridor.

He came to a stop before her. Frieda had never seen Francis nervous before. He was clenching and unclenching the strap to his sports duffel with one hand. "Hi."

"Hi." She continued fiddling with the lens cap.

Francis ran a hand over the back of his neck. "I'm not really good at apologies. But I am really, really sorry I was such an asshole the other day. I was going through something but I had no right to take it out on you. I should have returned your calls, or at least let you know I wasn't up to hanging out. And I'm sorry I made you worry. And I want you to have this." Francis dug into the duffel and came up with the sweatshirt he'd been given as a member of the varsity baseball team. "It's clean. Don't worry. But I want you to know that you're important to me and I don't want to fight with you anymore."

Frieda took the sweatshirt silently with both hands and then looked up at Francis, beaming the widest smile he'd ever seen on her face. "That was pretty good, for someone who doesn't like apologies. Perfect, actually."

She wrapped her arms around Francis. "Are you okay now?" Frieda mumbled into the crook of his neck.

"Getting there."

"You're important to me too, and I hope you feel better soon."

And because Frieda was the only person who didn't immediately want Francis to open up and talk about his feelings but was just there making him feel better with her mere presence, Francis felt an overwhelming wave of adoration wash over him and Francis tilted his head to capture Frieda's lips with his own.

Author's Note:

Mmm, not much to say about this chapter. I hope it didn't come across as too sappy.

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