Time Falls Away: A Meet the Robinson and Incredibles Fanfiction

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of Disney/Pixar. I do not own them but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

Rating: This story is rated K

Chapter 3

June 6, 2009, 9:58 pm

His head hurt.

For awhile, that was all he knew. The pain was overwhelming; an intense throbbing just above his eye which consumed every thought and feeling. There was no room for anything else. If his body moved at all, or made any sound, he had no knowledge of it.

Eventually though, the pain above his eye began to fade; not entirely, but enough that he could be aware of other things. The first was that there was other pain in his back, his arms, his legs, his chest… pretty much everywhere. He felt like he'd been hit by a truck. Maybe he was… he didn't know.

The next thing he became aware of was sound. There was a voice. He couldn't understand it though. It sounded foggy and hollow at first, like someone speaking underwater or in a cave. Slowly it became clearer.

"Are you awake?"

It was a girl's voice. He didn't recognize it, but it was definitely a girl.

"Mom! I think he's waking up!"

The voice was louder this time; much louder. He winced, and then moaned at the sudden facial movement. Yeah, moving… moving wasn't a good idea.

"Oh! Sorry. Are you okay?"

Softer this time, and apologetic. When she wasn't shouting, her voice was actually kind of soothing. Maybe she was an angel. Did angels have moms?

His head throbbed and he scratched the angel idea. There was no way heaven would hurt this much. He had to be alive.

"Can you open your eyes?"

He thought about that for a moment. Could he? He figured it was worth a shot. He opened them, just a crack but squeezed them shut tight an instant later. Too bright. Definitely too bright.

"Are the lights to bright? Here, I can dim them."

He heard her move. A few seconds later, the room darkened on the other side of his eyelids. Her voice returned to him a moment later.

"Is that better? Can you try again?"

It couldn't hurt worse than it already did. Besides, he wanted to see who was speaking to him. He blinked once, then again. It hurt both times, not so much from the light as from the facial movement. His vision blurred and then began to focus.

A face swam in front of him – black hair, blue eyes, and a button of a nose. As he looked on, a lock of hair fell across one side of her face and she left it there. She was smiling, but it was a worried sort of smile and he wondered briefly what she'd look like if she were laughing.

"Hi."

He focused on her mouth while she spoke, fascinated, like he was remembering how to form words.

"How are you feeling?"

He supposed he ought to answer her question although, that meant moving again – at least his face or whatever parts of it were used for talking – and he wasn't sure he wanted to do that just yet. But it might be worth it. She looked so hopeful.

His first attempt came out in a choked whisper and he coughed. Coughing really hurt. Whetting his mouth he tried again. "I… like I got hit by something." He rasped.

"Close. You crashed your plane."

He frowned, and then stopped because it hurt too much. "Plane?" That couldn't be right. "I don't have a plane… at least, I don't think I do." His mouth was really dry but talking was getting easier.

"Well, whatever it was, you crash landed in our back yard." She was so matter of fact about it, you'd think having planes crash in her backyard was an everyday occurrence.

He was confused. He had no idea where he was or where he ought to be or why he would be flying a plane or –

"I'm Violet, by the way. What's your name?"

It was such a simple question. He opened his mouth to respond but stopped when the answer wasn't forthcoming. He wracked his brain but only one phrase came to mind and it wasn't his name.

"That is an excellent question."

"Vi, don't pester him with questions."

A women appeared; older than Violet, probably her mom. The women knelt down beside what he realized was a couch – which he was laying on. He was in a living room, or what would be a living room once the mountains of boxes were unpacked. It looked like someone had just moved in, or was getting ready to move out. The room spun.

"How are you feeling?" the woman, Violet's mom, asked. He wanted to point out that she'd just asked him a question after berating her daughter for doing the same but something else took precedence.

"Like… like I'm going to be sick."

And he was, but not before Violet shouted, "Dash! Quick! Bring a bucket!" And there was a bucket.

"Eww eww eww! That is sooo gross!" It was a boy's voice this time.

"Thank you, Dash. Could you bring him some water please?" Violet's mother asked.

"What am I? A gopher? Here you go."

Feeling somewhat better, he looked up to see a young, blond-haired boy standing beside him with a glass of water. He wasn't sure when the boy had gotten the glass but was grateful, nonetheless, for the chance to rinse his mouth. He rinsed twice and then drank the rest of the water to cleanse his throat and esophagus.

"Don't drink too much." Violet's mother warned. "You'll make yourself sick again. You've got a pretty bad concussion."

Finishing the water, he laid back with a groan. He closed his eyes just breathed for a moment, willing his head to stop hurting. When he opened his eyes again, Violet and the other two were still staring at him.

"Where am I?" he asked, deciding to gather whatever information he could. His brain was so foggy; he couldn't seem to remember anything clearly. Perhaps their answers would help him make sense of things.

"You're in our house." The woman answered. She didn't look too much like Violet; her hair was red, though the nose was similar. "Don't mind the mess. We just finished moving in this afternoon and haven't really started unpacking yet. I'm Helen Parr." She introduced herself and then laid a hand on the blond boy's head. "This is my son, Dash, and you've already met my daughter, Violet. My other son, Jack-Jack, is asleep and my husband, Bob, is in the garage investigating the damage done to your, um… vehicle."

Right, the plane thing; Violet had mentioned that he'd crashed it. Mrs. Parr didn't seem familiar, nor did any of the names she listed, but he didn't expect them to as this family seemed to be regarding him as one might regard an alien.

"Do you remember what happened?" Mrs. Parr prompted.

He searched his brain, looking for clues. He remembered rain and bright flashes, disorientation, then nothing. He must have hit his head then and blacked out.

"I was… driving? Or… flying I guess. You said it was a plane?" He looked at Violet and she nodded.

"Something like that."

He still wasn't sure about that. It didn't seem right, but he continued. "I don't remember what I was doing, just rain and lightening. There was a… loud noise and I must've lost control… I don't remember anything else."

"I'm not surprised. With an injury like that, you ought to be in the hospital. I'm afraid my husband is a bit paranoid. But now that you're awake we'll call your parents and see to it that you're taken care of. What's your name?"

"Um…" He tried, again, to think of a name to which he associated himself but came up empty once more. "I don't… actually… um, I don't know." He knew he shouldn't feel embarrassed – it wasn't his fault he couldn't remember – but the realization that he couldn't remember his own name left him feeling small, like a child, helpless.

"You don't know your name?" Dash asked, perplexed.

"Hush, Dash." Mrs. Parr scolded her son and then turned back to him. "I'm sure it'll come back to you soon. Why don't we try something else? What are your parent's names? Your mother and father."

He took a breath and searched his mind, focusing on the idea of mother and father. There were flashes – blue eyes behind glasses, a black ponytail, a long white coat, a brightly colored skirt. There were sounds – a warm chuckle, jazz music. There were feelings – a warm embrace, comfort, safety, love.

He knew.

He knew that he had parents and that, without a doubt, they had to be the greatest parents in the world but…

He couldn't remember their names or even their faces, just fleeting impressions. He frowned. What kind of kid forgets his own parents?

"You don't know?" asked Dash. "Do you know anything?"

That little kid was starting to get annoying. If he had any sort of strength right now he'd have done something about it. Thankfully, Mrs. Parr spared him the effort.

"Dashiell Robert Parr, go see what your father is up to. Let him know that our guest is awake."

The boy looked like he might protest but a stern look from his mother sent him scurrying away.

"Sorry about my brother." Violet apologized. "He's kind of a maggot."

"Vi, please." Mrs. Parr scolded.

"It's alright." He said quickly, not wanting her to make Violet leave as well. "I don't have any siblings… at least; I don't think I do…" A young man and woman flitted through his subconscious, but they weren't his siblings. They were… "I have… cousins… maybe, yeah. Once removed, but they're older." His entire thought process was conducted with a concentrated frown.

"Do you know their names?" Violet asked, gently.

His eyebrows pinched together and he winced as the motion pull at the wound on his forehead. Relaxing his facial muscles as much as possible, he replied. "No…no, I… I remember people, but only vaguely and I can't…" he shook his head. "I'm not getting any names."

"Sounds like you've got amnesia." A large man with thinning yellow hair appeared in the room with Dash at his side. "I'm Robert Parr."

He nodded, not sure what else to do when he had no name to introduce himself with in return.

"Have you tried numbers?" Mr. Parr continued. "I heard somewhere that it's easier for amnesia patients to remember numbers than names."

"Let's try something simple." Mrs. Parr interjected. "What about your birthday?"

He was surprised when the answer came forth almost immediately.

"May 17, 2023."

His answer was met with silence and then,

"Wow! He's really lost his marbles." All eyes turned to glare at Dash.

Mrs. Parr stood and ushered her son out of the room while Mr. Parr and Violet turned their focus back to him. He frowned, confused by their reactions.

"I'm… pretty sure I got that one right."

Violet smiled a little but answered seriously, "You probably have the day right, but you must be a little confused about the year."

"What do you mean?"

"It's 2009, kid." Mr. Parr interrupted. "There's no way you were born in 2023 unless you've somehow comeback from the future…" His voice drifted off in a curious tone and he suddenly turned and left the room, leaving Violet alone with him once more.

"What was that all about?" he asked.

Violet rolled her eyes. "I have no idea. My family can be pretty weird sometimes."

"They can't be weirder than mine." He responded without thinking.

"How do you know? I thought you couldn't remember your family."

"I can't. But I do remember something about singing frogs and a meatball cannon and when I try to think about my family, the word 'weird' definitely comes to mind."

Violet laughed and he smiled.