"You really didn't have to do that, Winston." Helen watched the kids disappear excitedly into the newly furnished living room and smiled.
"Ah, pish! It was nothing!" Winston swept his hand across the air in front of him before leaning in toward her conspiratorially. "Besides, I've got another set at home!"
"No, what she means is that you really, reallydidn't have to do that." Bob attempted to smile but his teeth were clenched, and Helen patted him on the arm.
"Bob swore the kids would never know about —"
"They couldn't get my nose right," her husband muttered, watching their progeny sprawled out on the braided rug.
"Of course they should have them!" Winston exclaimed. "After all, they're yourkids!"
Bob turned back to the business tycoon. "They couldn't get my nose right!" he said petulantly.
Helen rolled her eyes.
"Oh, come on!" Winston's exuberant voice rang through their new bigger-than-the-first, much-smaller-than-the-second house. "How many kids can say that their parents are action figures?"
"They made me look fat!" Bob groused.
Helen squinted her eyes at him. "I had no idea you were this vain!"
"I'm not vain!"
His booming voice belied the sentiment, and Helen slapped her husband on the arm. The kids didn't even notice their father's outburst, but Bob inhaled deeply before saying more softly, "I just think that if you're going to make a scale model of someone, you should make sure it actually looks like that person!"
"Bob ..."
"Our photos were on every magazine and cereal box; it wouldn't have been that hard!"
"Bob."
"AND now Jack-Jack's chewing on my leg."
"Honey!"
"What?"
"Look at your children."
He looked back again, this time not saying anything. Dash zoomed around the room; apparently Frozone had discovered the power of flight. Lucius would be so pleased! Violet had taken Mr. Incredible out of her littlest brother's mouth, and was now positioning one of his hands on his hip and the other straight up in the air, and Helen couldn't contain her grin as Jack-Jack exclaimed, "Mama!" and grabbed the Elastigirl figure to his chest.
"They don't care if they got your nose right," she said, softly, wrapping her arms around him.
"I suppose you're right," Bob admitted. He sighed and smiled at the scene before turning and giving her a kiss on the forehead. "So, what do you say, kids?"
In unison, Dash and Vi called, "Thank you, Uncle Win!" Jack-Jack babbled and screeched after them, clearly enjoying his new toys.
"My pleasure!" Winston answered. "Have fun!"
He shrugged on his suit coat and made for the door. Helen thanked him for stopping by and told him to do so again soon. He'd already stepped outside when he turned around. "By the way, have the kids ever seen your old comic books?"
Helen paled and Bob went stiff beside her. The Supers Comics claimed to tell the dramatized true stories (or truly dramatized stories) of Superhero exploits, but they were really just glorified tabloids. Villains and criminals took a backseat to rumors about who was dating whom and — Helen met Bob's wide-eyed stare and realized they were thinking of the same thing — there was thatpicture of the two of them in the December 1943 issue ...
"If you want, they could have them," Winston said. "After all, I've got another set at —"
Helen stretched her arm forward and pushed him out the door, hoping the kids hadn't heard the offer. "Thanks for stopping by, Winston, but you really, really don't have to do that!"
---
Also posted on ff.net and Archive of Our Own
Summary: Bob's doubting his abilities as a parent after the events of the movie, but Helen reminds him what it's all about.
A tag/missing scene for the end of Incredibles 2, since I feel it needed a personal moment between Bob and Helen to bring his jealousy/parenting arc to a close.
Pairing: Bob/Helen
Notes: Cross-posted on fanfiction.net and archiveofourown.
"You guys've got the next shift. I'm beat." Helen scooped Jack-Jack up in her arms and held him to her chest. His pudgy arms wrapped tightly around her neck, and she smiled as he let out a breathy sigh of contentment.
"Dada!" The arms loosened and Jack-Jack's now excited voice alerted her to the fact that Bob was coming up behind them. She admitted that she was surprised when Jack-Jack squirmed and reached for his father, and though she missed her youngest child's presence, she smiled as Bob took him into his arms.
"Hey there, little man." Bob gave their son a tickle, which caused him to burble and giggle happily, but he was worn out from what had clearly been a crazy and exhausting day, and the baby yawned and nestled down in the crook of his father's arm.
Bob grinned down at Jack-Jack, and Helen's heart swelled with love and admiration for him.
"Was it as easy as you thought?" she asked.
He straightened up and let out a mock scoff. "Piece of cake!" he said, grandly. "Nothing to it!"
"Really?"
She raised an eyebrow good-naturedly, and her husband seemed to deflate before her eyes.
"No," he moaned, looking up at the sky in exaggerated dismay. "I don't know how you do it day after day. The kids always need something and nothing's ever done and the clothes are pink and we're out of eggs and we still don't have any double-A batteries!"
Jack-Jack giggled as he dozed, as if he were the reason for Bob's long list of complaints. And given what Helen had seen in the last few hours, he probably was.
Bob sighed in exhaustion. "I'm just sorry I wasn't able to do a better job," he said, looking to the ground. "You're a wonderful mother and an even better crime-fighter. I was jealous when they wanted you, but I hoped I could show you that I could at least keep things in order at home, and I wasn't even able to do--."
She stretched up and up until she was eye-level with her husband and pressed her lips to his. Bob tensed as she silenced him, and then slowly relaxed into the kiss.
When Helen pulled away, he still looked startled and uneasy, as if he didn't expect such a reaction after recounting what had happened. Helen retracted back to her regular height so she could look up at him and placed a hand on the arm that held Jack-Jack.
"Are the kids alive?" she asked.
"Well, yeah, but --"
"Are they happy?"
Bob looked over at Violet, who was gesticulating wildly as she talked to Voyd.
"We're getting there," he said, and Helen wondered what had happened while she was away. She'd ask about it later.
"Do they still love us?"
Dash walked up to his sister, who ruffled his hair, and then he stood on tip-toe as he scanned the area. He waved when he caught sight of his parents across the street and then turned back to join Violet and Voyd's conversation.
"Yes," Bob said with confidence. "They love us."
She reached up and touched his cheek with her gloved hand.
"Then you were great," she said firmly, as if she could will him to believe that by her own force alone.
Bob smiled a little sheepishly before he encircled her with his other arm and drew her to his chest. "So were you."
Helen threaded her arms around his neck, completely content to be going home. "We were both great."
Summary: It wasn't what it sounded like. It couldn't possibly be, because the last two months had been so good ... but it all started after Bob had come back from that first conference.
Helen deals with the shock that her marriage just might be crumbling in front of her. Set in the evening after Helen catches Bob on the phone with Mirage.
Pairing: Bob/Helen
Notes: Cross-posted on fanfiction.net and archiveofourown.
How soon can you get here?"
It wasn't what it sounded like.
"I'll leave tomorrow morning."
It couldn't possibly mean what it sounded like.
"See you there."
It couldn't.
"Bye."
Could it?
Bob had denied it — said it was another business trip — but even from the kitchen Helen could hear him moving about their bedroom, packing his bag with far more excitement than could be produced by an insurance conference.
Helen stirred the spaghetti sauce as it started to bubble on the stove, trying to ignore the rolling waves in her stomach or the way that her hand trembled while holding the spoon.
She was wrong. She had to be wrong.
The last two months had been so good. The extra money Bob had been bringing home had been nice; the new car didn't break down on the way to pick up the kids and they'd put in a deck in the backyard. But that stuff couldn't compare to the fact that Bob was ... happy. He was happy! He was spending time with the kids and he'd whistled as Dash walked across the stage at his graduation and with the weight loss, his confidence was through the roof. He'd reminded her of the Mr. Incredible from all those years ago.
But that wasn't all.
She had reveled in his attention to her; it was like it had been when they were newlyweds. They'd gone out for a fancy dinner — just the two of them — for the first time since Dash was born, and Bob had taken her swing dancing a week ago, and they were planning to go again on Friday, and if Bob had had more trouble than usual getting out of the house in the morning, well, she was just returning the attention. They were closer than they'd been in years, and she wouldn't trade it for —
But it had all happened after Bob had come back from that first conference.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately not to think about the platinum hair on Bob's suit jacket or the fact that he was humming — humming! — in the other room. An unexpected tear fell and sizzled as it impacted the hot burner.
Helen rubbed viciously at the other tears gathering in her eyes and let out a deep, shuddering breath. She was not going to cry. She wouldn't allow herself to do that ... not when she didn't have any real proof.
It was all circumstantial, she told herself. She had no indisputable reason to believe that Bob was having an ... A long, blonde hair could be picked up anywhere. Yeah ... and the receptionist at Insuricare certainly had such a deep and husky voice whenever she called their employees about business trips. At home. After hours.
Yeah.
"Honey?"
"What?" The word came out heavy and garbled, and Helen cleared her throat, willing the knot lodged there to dissipate.
"Where's my travel case for my razor?"
"It should be in the bottom drawer in the bathroom."
The drawer opened and she could hear her husband rummaging around.
"I don't see it!"
Frustration mixed with the anxiety pooling in Helen's stomach, and she resisted the urge to scream that she had to do everything around this house. She pursed her lips together — hard — and stalked into the bathroom. Without looking at Bob, she dug through the drawer and then held up the small case.
"Sorry," he said sheepishly. At least he had the decency to sound abashed. "I didn't see it there."
"I know." He did this all the time.
"Thank you for finding it."
He reached over and kissed her on the forehead, and in spite of herself, Helen felt some of her anger melt away. But she still couldn't deny that her insides warred between wanting to be as far away from Bob as possible and wanting to drag him to her and learn that he still truly loved her.
She hesitated in that moment, and Bob went back to his packing. He opened the shaving case to make sure the razor was inside, and then he grabbed his toothbrush and a comb from the top drawer.
"Are you okay?"
Helen started, realizing that she was just standing there, staring at the bathroom counter. And now he was staring at her. She met Bob's eyes for the first time since confronting him outside his office and attempted to smile.
"I'm fine." She hoped the false cheer didn't give her away. "Just disappointed we'll have to cancel swing dancing on Friday."
"I know. But I'll make it up to you when I get back."
And that should have been enough when she had no real proof, but his assurance only made her want to vomit from the images in her head of him getting back after a weekend with "Tall, Blonde, and Beautiful." And to continue the metaphor, she thought that maybe she'd stop feeling so sick if she just let it all out and asked him if he was ...
But that hair and the voice on the phone and the humming played again in Helen's mind and even though her proof was circumstantial, it was damning all the same. So instead of asking the question she didn't want the answer to, she leaned against the doorframe and smiled.
"So, where are you going?"
"Ahh ... Seattle, I think."
Helen's brow furrowed. "You think?"
Bob smiled and shrugged. "Hey, I just go where the company sends me! Insurance is the same wherever you go!"
"I guess. It's just that ... you seem especially excited about an insurance conference."
Bob stilled for a second, as if he'd given something away, and Helen's heart plunged to the floor. He recovered quickly, but it was enough to know without a doubt that he was hiding something.
"Well, like you said, it's nice to know they're recognizing my talents. That's what we've always wanted, right?" He gripped her arms and kissed her again, this time on her cheek. "The only thing that would make it better is if you were coming with me!"
She had no idea what to say. There was absolutely nothing she could say. And if he kept looking at her like that — while she knew he was lying — she'd lose it. But there was someone looking out for her even as fate played its cruelest trick on her, because the front door opened, and then Violet called out, "Mom? Is something burning?"
The spaghetti sauce! Helen whirled around, leaving Bob in the bathroom, thankful that she could focus on saving dinner instead of dealing with her potentially crumbling marriage.
Though slightly burnt, dinner was the same as it had been for the last two months. Dash monopolized the conversation with anecdotes about summer school and Bob, finally fully engaged, asked Violet about her upcoming transition to the high school across town. Helen didn't think anyone noticed that she didn't say much, that she focused instead on helping Jack-Jack with his food.
Afterwards, the baby was predictably covered in noodles and sauce. Helen gave him a bath and dressed him in PJs and read him his Doozledorfs book three times. By the time she put him down, Bob was already in bed with the lights out. He was probably already asleep considering he had to get up so early, and that was just fine with Helen. The last thing that she wanted was to have to deal with the ... enthusiasm Bob had been showing in the bedroom the last few weeks.
Not now.
She pulled on her pajamas and laid down facing the window. The bed dipped behind her and she realized Bob wasn't as asleep as she assumed. Without a word, he rolled over and pressed himself against her back. They slept like this often, and Helen hated that she had to resist the urge to flinch.
"Good night." Bob's breath fluttered on Helen's ear; it was so familiar and intimate and her heart seized again.
"Good night," she whispered back, but she couldn't stop the thoughts that that good night might be a good-bye, and she allowed a few silent tears to trail down her cheeks.
Answers would come soon enough, but for tonight, she pulled Bob's arms tighter around her waist.
Summary: The Superhero Legalization movement comes back to bite Helen when a ghost from her past discovers her whereabouts, bringing with him lasting consequences for Helen's family and marriage.
Rating for sensitive topics, but nothing explicit.
Pairing: Bob/Helen
Notes: Cross-posted on fanfiction.net and archiveofourown.
The groceries filled up the trunk of the station wagon, but Helen Parr had never really been a two trips kind of gal. She threaded her arms through the handles, though she resisted the urge to stretch even as the bags pushed against each other. She didn't want to crush the bread and the bananas, but their new neighbor, Freida Glasgow, was a regular Mrs. Kravitz, always looking out the windows and spying on their house. She'd caught Dash sprinting to make the school bus a couple weeks ago, and since then, Helen couldn't go more than a few hours without seeing her beady eyes and beehive hair peeking through the curtains. If they weren't careful, their cover would be blown again, and they'd have to move for the third time in less than a year.
Helen pushed the last bag on her arm and closed the trunk with a grunt. The new house was larger than their first, with an upstairs, a large garage, and a decent sized lawn. The long, low roof swooped at a gentle angle from the second story all the way to the ground, forming a kind of asymmetrical, geometric arch over the front door. They could have afforded something bigger, but nosy-neighbors not-withstanding, Helen was happy with their purchase. It was inconspicuous in its ordinariness, surrounded as it was by dozens of other similar, suburban homes. They were close to the schools -- close enough that the buses skipped this neighborhood and Bob would be picking the kids up soon. They were also closer to Lucius and Honey's apartment in the city, and though Dash had enjoyed the spaciousness of Winston's proffered house, Helen knew the rest of the family liked the cozier feeling they found here.
Once in the garage, she extended her wrist to close the garage door and push open the mandoor. She threw her keys in the bowl by the door and set off for the kitchen.
"Hello, Helen."
The low, lilting voice startled her, and the bags clattered to the floor as Helen retracted her arms and instinctually brought her fists up to her face.
There was a man on their new sofa: tall and rail-thin. His immaculate dark suit matched his greying black hair, and narrow blue eyes peered at her through a long, hawkish face. In his hand, he held one of her wine glasses, half-filled with blood-red wine. He swirled the liquid and took a long, nonchalant sip, seemingly indifferent to her shock.
"Xerek," Helen breathed, her heart plunging to the floor.
His thin lips curled upwards in a way that -- a lifetime ago -- would have caused her heart to flutter, but now it brought with it only terror.
Summary: The Superhero Legalization movement comes back to bite Helen when a ghost from her past discovers her whereabouts, bringing with him lasting consequences for Helen’s family and marriage.
Rating for sensitive topics, but nothing explicit.
Pairing: Bob/Helen
Notes: Cross-posted on fanfiction.net and archiveofourown.
Helen couldn't have felt more winded if someone had punched her in the stomach, but she finally found her voice, though she hated how thin it sounded.
"What are you doing here?"
Xerek hadn't moved, but he crossed a leg over his knee and leaned his arms along the back of the sofa. It made him seem taller, more imposing, even as he remained sitting.
"No hello? Helen, I'm hurt."
His flippant words jolted Helen from her shock and sent a shot of anger through her midsection. He always had known how to get under her skin, and instead of just standing there, Helen searched for something to do to avoid looking at him. Which wasn't difficult given that the contents of a dozen grocery bags were leaking onto her parquet floors.
She stalked out of the living room, grabbed the garbage can in the kitchen, and returned, refusing to look at the ghost from her past or break the silence. Not that she had to.
"You never did like to mince words, did you?" Xerek's British accent lilted along, almost as if he were singing rather than talking. "Yes, you were always more ... action-oriented than that? A doer, not a talker. I remember that."
She couldn't stand how intimate he was making it sound. She threw the bananas away, then the egg carton, not even bothering to look inside. She tossed the glass pieces that had been a jar of spaghetti sauce before returning to the kitchen to grab a towel to wipe up the red mess. This time, Xerek waited for her to speak.
"Why are you here?"
He swirled the wine in his glass again before gesturing towards her with it. "You can't know how very glad I was to hear that the Superhero Legislation passed, and even more so when I found out that you were instrumental in its success. Well, it didn't take long to figure out that Elastigirl — or is it just Mrs. Incredible now? — was still active in Metroville. It was almost as if you wanted me to find you."
"I didn't think anything of it," she said, calmly. She threw the red and saturated towel in the kitchen sink and replaced the garbage can underneath. "I haven't thought about you in years."
"Oh, I don't believe that," he said, quirking an eyebrow and grinning into the glass. Helen pursed her lips together, refusing to respond. He swallowed a gulp of what was probably Bob's 1948 Bordeaux, and exhaled loudly.
"I've been doing a bit of research."
"What makes you think I care?"
"This concerns you, Helen."
"My concerns are none of yours," she said, but a knot curled uneasily in her stomach.
"You know that's not true." Xerek stood up from the sofa, habitually rebuttoned his suit jacket, and slid toward the fireplace. Reaching up to the mantle, he trailed his slender finger over the frame housing their family photo. It had been taken on a recent trip to visit Helen's parents in Georgia, and she felt sick as he touched it. "Have you told him about us?"
"There's nothing to tell."
"So, you haven't told him." Xerek's lips quirked in triumph, and she hated him for it. He picked up the frame and studied the photograph. "He's never suspected? She doesn't exactly look like him."
"She looks like my grandmother." That's what her mother had always said.
"Is that what you've told yourself all these years?"
"It's the truth."
"And yet that doesn't preclude there being multiple factors at work."
"You're insane."
He shrugged. "Perhaps so. Life's a lot more fun that way." He returned the frame to the mantle, reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver handkerchief. Wiping his fingers, he said in a more pointed voice, "How old is she?"
"Leave her out of this."
"She's the whole reason for this," he said, thrusting the handkerchief back into his pocket and sitting back on the sofa. "She's fifteen, isn't she. Just celebrated a birthday, didn't she."
"She's not yours, Xerek," Helen said forcefully.
"The timeline fits."
"It's just coincidence."
"That's a pathetic attempt to convince yourself."
"She has powers."
She wasn't expecting the sly smile that spread across his face. "Does she now?"
She didn't know how to respond.
"Why are you fighting this?" Xerek continued, his voice smooth and calm, as if he'd won a prize. "As I recall, we spent a very enjoyable evening the last time we saw each other."
Helen felt her heartrate rising. "That's not how I remember it."
"What do you remember?" he asked.
Helen's fingernails dug into her clenched palms, but she had nothing to say.
"You don't remember anything, do you?" Xerek chuckled lowly. "I would be hurt if I took that as a reflection upon me, but you'd had a lot to drink that night."
"I don't remember that either." Helen glared at him, completely dismissing his version of events.
"Really," Xerek said, his brows furrowed as if in confusion. "You must have been further gone than I thought."
"I agreed to one drink," she said. "One."
Xerek shrugged. "You always were a lightweight."
"I don't think so. You drugged me. You must have." It was the only explanation for what had happened.
Xerek stood again at the accusation. "Now, Helen, I'm surprised at you." His voice was soft, placating, as if speaking to a child. He began moving around the coffee table toward her, but Helen refused to move. "I invited you to have a drink so that we could toast your recent nuptials. My intentions were pure; I admit I was surprised to find that your intentions were less so."
He was close enough now that she had to look up to maintain eye contact. "That's a lie. I was always completely committed to my marriage."
"Well, no one's perfect, my dear. We all have our weaknesses."
He reached out and touched her arm, and Helen wrenched herself away. "I'm done, Xerek. I don't know what happened that night, but I will not let you come into my house and insult me or my marriage."
His pale blue eyes bore into her, seemed to pierce through her. The wine glass was still in his hand, and Xerek downed the rest of its contents before placing it gently on the coffee table.
"I'm not here to berate you, Helen." He brushed an invisible piece of lint from his suit jacket and began moving toward the door. "I'll leave. But you cannot hide from the truth. And I don't know why you'd want to."
He reached for the door handle just as it opened, and the knot in Helen's stomach twisted as her husband sang out, "Honey, I'm home!"
"Bob!" That meant the kids ...
"Whoa!" Bob stumbled, nearly colliding with Xerek, and reached over to protect Jack-Jack, whom he carried in one arm. Jack-Jack giggled happily at the unexpected vertigo, but when he caught sight of Xerek he pulled away apprehensively, brows furrowing and his smile transforming into an exaggerated frown.
Her husband recovered quickly. "Oh! Hello. I don't think we've met." He extended a large hand toward the other man, who waved it away with his rail-thin hand, managing to appear somehow polite and disinterested at the same time. "I'm Bob."
"Xerek."
"Xerek," Bob said, pulling back his hand. "That's an interesting name."
"I'm an interesting person."
Helen tried not to show her discomfort as Bob looked her way and then back at the intruder in their house. "And you know Helen, how?"
"He's an old acquaintance," she said quickly, moving forward to stand near Bob. But she knew Xerek wouldn't leave it alone.
"Helen, don't be ridiculous. We're old friends." And he walked over to her and wrapped his arm around her back. "In fact, you could say I'm more like family."
This time Helen did wince, at Xerek's words as much as at Bob's shocked expression at his arm around her. Bob studied her face, and when he noticed her distress, he straightened up to his full height and cast suspicious eyes on the other man. "Funny that Helen's never mentioned you."
He moved out of the entryway to ensure that he wasn't blocked in, that he had room to move, but his eyes never left Xerek.
"Indeed," Xerek said, as if he couldn't believe it. "That was silly of her. There's really no reason to be keeping secrets, is there, Helen?"
She didn't have a chance to respond — and wouldn't have known what to say even if she did — because the door opened again, and Helen's eyes widened in fear.
"Mo-om! Dash ate the chocolate bar I was saving for Tony!" Violet's shrill voice drew everyone's attention.
"He owes me a quarter any—!"
Helen didn't let Dash finish. Sensing something was about to happen, she dove for Violet just as Xerek moved next to her. He leapt at her daughter, but Helen was there instead, and suddenly, she felt herself sucked into a void, falling and spinning at breakneck speed through darkness, faster and faster, until she slammed on her back into a hard, concrete floor.
She couldn't draw in a breath. For the second time that afternoon, she was utterly winded, and she gasped and coughed violently as her body struggled for air.
"You bitch!"
Even in her oxygen deprived mind, the crude epithet stung. Xerek was next to her, breathing heavily but looking less disoriented. He stood, towering over her, as she struggled to speak.
"You have powers?" Helen gasped, unable to move from the floor. Her vision was darkening, pushing in on her.
"Surprise," Xerek intoned darkly. "Does that convince you yet?"
"No," whispered Helen, but it was in more denial than disbelief and she welcomed the blissful darkness that overtook her.
Summary: The Superhero Legalization movement comes back to bite Helen when a ghost from her past discovers her whereabouts, bringing with him lasting consequences for Helen’s family and marriage.
Rating for sensitive topics, but nothing explicit.
Pairing: Bob/Helen
Notes: Cross-posted on fanfiction.net and Archive of our Own.
The corded phone in the bedroom just reached the dresser, and Bob held it between his shoulder and chin as he grabbed Helen's supersuit, meticulously pressed and folded, as he knew it would be.
For the second time in the last twenty minutes, he willed the other line to connect. Dicker had told him where Xerek's old lab was — someplace outside New York City — but the newly sanctioned NSA was still being reconfigured and reinstated, and he had no way to get him across the country, so Bob was calling in a favor.
"Helen?" The tinny voice brought back so many memories. "It's good to hear from you —"
"Snug, it's me."
"Bob?"
"Yeah, long time no see." It had been; Helen had kept in touch, but Bob hadn't talked to Snug since their wedding. "Look, Helen's been kidnapped, and I need transportation. Can you hook me up?"
There was no hesitation. "For Helen? I'll pilot you myself."
Bob had had a feeling he'd say that. His wife had that effect on people.
"I'll be at the Municiberg Airport in an hour," Snug said. "Where are we going?"
"New York," Bob answered. "Be prepared for anything."
Continue reading on Archive of Our Own or Fanfiction.net
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Summary: The Superhero Legalization movement comes back to bite Helen when a ghost from her past discovers her whereabouts, bringing with him lasting consequences for Helen’s family and marriage.
Rating for sensitive topics, but nothing explicit.
Pairing: Bob/Helen
Notes: Cross-posted on fanfiction.net and Archive of our Own.
Jack-Jack was the first to break the stunned silence.
"Mama?"
"Where'd they go?" Dash asked, his eyes wide as saucers.
"Dad?" Violet knew her voice sounded utterly spooked. She'd raised her hands up to her face in defense — no time to even create a forceshield — and only now dropped them to her side. "What's going on?"
Her father's mouth was still hanging open.
"I ... I have no idea," he said, as though he couldn't even believe what he had seen.
Suddenly, Jack-Jack vanished from her father's arm.
"Mama!" they heard him call, ghostly and echoey, clearly having assumed that his mother had disappeared into one of the alternate dimensions that only he could travel through. Within seconds though, he reappeared on the rug where she had vanished, his eyes wide and his lip trembling. "Mama?"
Violet picked up the baby and rubbed his back, trying to comfort him as best she could.
"Who was that guy? Dad?" Dash asked, more loudly this time. "Do you know him?"
Their father's initial shock and confusion seemed to melt away, and Violet was comforted by the calm, determined sound of his voice.
"Violet," he said. "Watch Jack-Jack. Both of you, stay in the house and lock the doors. I have to call Dicker."
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