Author's Note: This is a sequel to "Vanishing Love" and picks up a few days after that story ends. So, before you read this story, you should go and read that one. It's a good story with lots of action, romance, intrigue, suspense, humor and hot lesbian sex. Well… there isn't a lot of hot lesbian sex. I concentrated more on the action, romance, intrigue and suspense. But, there is some lesbian "messing around" and a bit where Frozone is out with two gorgeous women at the same time! In any case, this is written with the assumption that you've watched "The Incredibles" and read "Vanishing Love." If you haven't, go do it now. This will still be here when you get back.
Author: A Markov
Title: Out of Sight, Out of Mind
Summary: Sequel to Vanishing Love. Violet thought growing up was hard, until she fell in love. Now she has to balance love, family and duty as she tries to cope with a relationship that nobody, including herself, understands. Going off to college and the return of an irate ex isn't going to make her life any easier.
Warning: This story contains some explicit language and deals with mature themes including consensual sex between adults of the same gender.
Disclaimer: The characters and locations are property of Disney and Pixar. They are used here without permission or profit. You're welcome to sue me, I don't have anything.
Chapter 1 – It's going to be a long night
The rain soaked streets of Metroville reflected the lights of the buildings that never shut down. A lone taxi idled down an empty street past the featureless gray municipal buildings and trundled off, looking for a late night fare. The municipal complex had once been touted as a way to breathe life into the oldest part of the city, but by the time the government appointed architects and contractors had finished with it, the city ended up saddled with fifteen identical gray cubes arranged in a lopsided helix that was diabolically difficult to get into and nearly impossible to get out of. In fact the city had been forced to hire a towing service that came out every month to deal with the hundreds of cars that were abandoned by their owners after running out of gas while trying to find either a parking place or a way to exit the campus.
It had become so bad that the City Council, which met in a semi-exclusive up-town eatery, was considering passing an ordinance to prevent anyone from driving into the complex in the first place and the Board of Tourism was calling for the mayor to organize a militia to deal with the groups of roving tourists who had given up on the idea of ever finding their hotels and now lived on their wits and what little they managed to steal from the low level civil servants who couldn't afford cars and, therefore, walked into and out of the complex. At one point it had seemed like there was a solution to the traffic problem when one of the smarter council members called in the head of the towing company to find out how they got all the cars out. But it turned out to be a dead end when they discovered that the vehicles were not actually towed out. Instead, the towing company hired street punks to drive the cars through the basement of the Frank Thomas Memorial building and across one of the fields to the river where they were loaded onto a barge and shipped to Cuba in exchange for exclusive cigar importing rights. In the end, the council voted to post more signs directing traffic into the complex and to confiscate half of the towing company's profits so they could hold their meetings in a better restaurant.
Fortunately for the citizens of Metroville, not all of their civil servants are self-absorbed leeches. Take for instance, Special Agent Rick Dicker. He sits alone, a nondescript man, in a nondescript suit, at a nondescript desk, in a nondescript office on a nondescript floor of one of those nondescript gray buildings. It doesn't really matter which one. It's kind of hard to tell, but he's working hard.
Dicker blinked several times, trying to read the report on his desk. He looked up and realized the lights in the main office area had been turned off and there wasn't enough illumination coming in through his window to read by. He sighed and glanced at the clock as her reached for the lamp on his desk. It was late, even by his standards. The lamp's single incandescent bulb illuminated a surface crowded with neat piles of paper. Acknowledging to himself that there was nothing more to be gleaned from the incident report, he carefully placed it on the appropriate stack and began checking over the forms necessary to ensure that former agent Skippy Johnson would receive the care he needed. While his hands methodically took care of the mundane paperwork tasks, his mind raced. He turned over the events of the last few days, cataloguing the expressions and reactions of the people involved and calculating how they would likely react in the future.
Violet was young and in love. She was probably going to be dancing around like an idiot for a few months, enjoying life way too much for her own good and annoying the hell out of everyone around her. She'd likely throw herself back into the super-heroing gig with her family and bring their efficiency back up to snuff. Her upbeat mood would help her put the problems she was having with her mom behind her and hopefully inspire her to reach out to the older woman. With a little luck, she could even bridge the gap between Helen and Mirage. She might not be able to get them to be friends, but since they both really cared for her, maybe they would make a concerted effort to bury their animosity for her sake.
Mirage was a little harder to figure out. A month ago, he would have classified her as a mercenary. Time has a way of changing things. So does love. He thought back to the phone call she had made four… no five days ago now. She had been… determined… to give her bourgeoning relationship with the young super a chance. A chance she didn't think it had while she was on The Agency's payroll. She had been willing to give up everything and start over just so she wouldn't feel like she was betraying her friend. And, at the time, she didn't even know whether Violet was going to be waiting for her at the end of the day. It was a promising series of events, but trusting her was still a risk. He briefly toyed with the idea of continuing the surveillance program that Skippy had initiated but he knew it wasn't a good idea. From a legal standpoint, The Agency had no business sticking its nose that far into a private citizen's life. From a practical standpoint, there was too much chance of negative consequences if it was discovered. As a Department of Defense contractor, Chi Mera Industries and its owner were already the subject of a passive monitoring program with alerts for any level two financial transactions. That would have to be enough.
Bob was going to be fine. He'd be confused for a while, but as long as Helen accepted what was going on, he'd be tractable. This brought Dicker to the real crux of the matter, Helen. His hands paused their nearly automatic filling and filing. After a couple days at her parents' home, Violet had gone to pick up Mirage from the hospital today and they had both gone back to the blonde CEO's penthouse apartment. Dicker didn't know what Helen's mood would be like tomorrow. After a few minutes, he sighed and let his hands resume their tasks. He really had no way to predict how she was going to react to all of this. She had surprised him last week by volunteering to donate blood for Mirage's transfusion but she had also surprised him this past summer by attacking Mirage. Helen was headstrong and willful; she had to be to live with Bob. And she certainly wasn't the kind of person to let the events of the past summer go. She was also the center which all of the players in this little production revolved around. If she decided to be a thorn in the lion's paw, he was going to have one hell of an angry lion.
He glanced at the clock and did a quick calculation of the time zones. It was early morning in Paris. He picked up the phone and made a call to the only person he thought would have a chance to talk some sense into her. Even though he braced himself for the volume and enthusiasm, it still bowled him over.
"Richard, Dah-ling…! It has been such a long time. Tell me all about what you are doing now…"
Mirage lay on her left side. The smooth silk of her own sheets a welcome change from the coarse cotton linens of the hospital. The full moon streamed light through the windows, covering the room and everything in it in illusionary snow. There was a weight pressing on her outstretched left arm cutting off the circulation, but she couldn't bring herself to move it. She moved her gaze from the serene fake winter landscape to the source of the discomfort and shook her head in wonderment. She still couldn't believe that someone like Violet would think she was worth loving. Hesitantly, as though Vi might disappear if she moved too fast, Mirage gently touched the young woman's cheek. Her fingers brushed the smooth skin of Violet's brow and the young woman sighed and burrowed more deeply into Mirage's left side. Ignoring the tingling of her arm as the blood started flowing once more, Mirage tried to work out exactly what had happened to her and how she had managed to get so lucky.
They were back in her penthouse now. She had been very nervous about what Violet might expect from her on this, their first unchaperoned night together. But the young woman had merely snuggled up against her and fallen fast asleep. Mirage lay still, cherishing the weight in her arms and against her body, fearful that if she allowed herself to fall asleep, she would wake to find that it was all a dream. Doubt nibbled at her. Violet was young, only eighteen. What did she know of love? How long until she came to her senses and realized that dating an older woman with a sordid past was a mistake? Insecurity tied Mirage's stomach in knots. Tears leaked from her eyes and trailed down her cheeks. She pulled her head away from Violet's to keep them from dripping on the younger woman's face.
The motion disturbed Violet and her blue eyes opened. When she focused on Mirage, a sleepy smile lit her face. The blonde felt a tingle of joy run down her spine.
"Hey." Violet whispered and turned to face the blonde woman. Her hand reached up and stroked Mirage's face. She noticed the moisture and pulled back slightly so she could see better.
"You're crying…" Her left hand cupped Mirage's cheek and her thumb gently stroked away a tear that was making its way down the blonde's face. "What's wrong?"
A thousand thoughts sped through Mirage's mind. So many things she wanted to say, so many complex feelings, fears, desires, so many words…
"I'm scared." She blurted out. She bit her lip in frustration. That wasn't what she wanted to say. But once the words were out, she knew them for truth. And now the truth was out in the open, lying between them, naked.
Violet's brow furrowed. She was still mostly asleep. "Skippy's in jail… he can't…" Her voice trailed off in confusion as Mirage closed her eyes and shook her head. "My mom…?"
"No." it was a whisper.
"What are you scared of?"
Mirage tried to find the words again, but they wouldn't come out. She couldn't explain and she was even more afraid that if she did manage to articulate it, Violet would see that she was right and leave at once. "Us." She managed to stammer out after a moment.
Violet tried to stifle a yawn. "I don't understand."
"I know. Just… just hold me... please."
With a satisfied smile, Violet obliged her and the blonde was able to relax slightly into the wonderful sensation of having someone she cared for stroking her head.
Chi's tears confused Violet, as did her semi-coherent explanation. Violet put it down to sleepiness and happily complied with Chi's request to be held. After a few minutes, she began stroking Chi's hair and humming a relaxing melody. A smile flitted across her face as she realized it was a song her own mother used to hum to calm her down.
Chi's scent filled her nostrils and she felt a tightening in her groin. The reaction scared her a little. She was still uncomfortable with her attraction to the woman in her arms and didn't know if she could do the things a lover would do. She tried imagining it. Kissing was O.K. In fact, kissing was great. She could definitely do kissing. Fondling was a little harder to wrap her mind around. It was very easy to imagine Chi fondling her, but harder to imagine herself as the aggressor. If there was a lot of kissing involved, she could probably do some fondling. Her mind balked at that point. She had a pretty good idea of what happened next and while the thought of Chi's gentle hands caressing her intimately was an exciting prospect, the idea that she would be expected to return in kind was more frightening than exciting.
Chi's breathing settled into a steady rhythm and Violet stopped stroking her hair. In the surreal light of the moon, Chi's pale skin looked like fragile alabaster. Violet reached out tentatively and cupped the sleeping woman's hand in her own. She had half expected the exposed skin to be cool to the touch but it was comfortingly warm. Chi let out a soft sigh. Violet curled up next to her and wondered if she could really go through with it. As she drifted off, she worried that even if she could work up the courage, would she be able to perform well enough to satisfy someone experienced like Chi?
Helen stared at the ceiling trying to force herself to accept the new direction her daughter's life was taking. The woman who had tried to seduce and kill her husband was now the object of her daughter's affection. Violet had reiterated that very clearly and at high volume today before she left to escort Mirage home from the hospital. It didn't make any sense. Violet couldn't really love that woman, could she? Try as she might, Helen couldn't deny the anguished look on her daughter's face last week as she had cradled Mirage's injured body in her arms. She also couldn't dismiss the selfless act that had almost proved fatal for the blonde. There was no way she could discount the fact that Mirage had willingly and unhesitatingly taken the brunt of the attack intended for her daughter. Absentmindedly, she rubbed the fading bruise on her arm where the phlebotomist had taken her blood for the transfusion. Why had she consented to… no… why had she volunteered? All she had to do was keep her mouth shut and Mirage would be… she wouldn't be a problem anymore. Violet was young. She would have gotten over it… eventually. Wouldn't she? Her daughter's grief stricken expression still haunted her.
Was it guilt over not doing more to prevent Kari from being sent away? Was it hope that Violet would find out about the gesture? If she did find out, would that heal the wound of their relationship? If that was all the reason why hadn't she just told Violet what she had done? She could have at least told Mirage. Let her know that she owed her life to the woman whose family she was intent on destroying. But that wasn't why she became a hero. She just wanted to help people, not make them feel obligated to her. And even in her own mind, the accusation that Mirage was trying to destroy her family rang false. The woman obviously cared a great deal for Violet; she wouldn't have been willing to sacrifice herself if she didn't. Violet obviously cared a great deal for her; she wouldn't have been so distraught over Mirage's injuries if she didn't. The emotion between the two young women was genuine; she could accept that… had to accept that. But how could she just sit there while that woman insinuated herself into her family? First with Bob, now with Violet. Was it something about being attracted to Supers?
Violet was already talking about inviting Mirage to dinner. A month ago, Helen would have been over the moon at the merest hint that Violet wanted to sit down with the family for dinner. Now the joy was tinged with dread. How could she sit across the table from… that woman… and eat? How could she sit across from her and do anything? She took a deep breath and rolled over. She had to concentrate on Violet. She didn't want to lose her daughter again. Just concentrate on Violet, she told herself, and it will be easy… easier… not quite as hard… doable… maybe. Helen rolled over, again, and took another deep breath.
Kari woke up in a cold sweat. She bolted upright and immediately regretted it as the cold Nordic air chilled her to the bone. Gathering her blankets around her, she tried to remember the nightmare. There had been… fire… a bright light… and a droning voice. The voice was asking questions that just didn't make any sense to her, like they were in another language. She had been looking for something. There was something she was supposed to take care of, something important, but she had lost it. No, that wasn't right. It was acting strange… doing things it wasn't supposed to do. It was…
The answer danced around in the back of her mind tantalizingly close but ultimately, unreachable. Frustrated, she forced herself to step out onto the cold floor and made her way into the bathroom, the blankets from her bed clutched tightly and dragging behind her. She filled a cup with water and stared at her face in the mirror. It didn't look right. She examined it closely, trying to find the flaw. Frizzy red hair, large, expressive green eyes, cute button nose, small but determined mouth… It all fit together, but there was something missing. Finally she gave up and headed back to bed. When her head touched the pillow, the baby burst into flames and she bolted upright once more.
Her blankets and sheets slid off the bed to the floor and she didn't even feel the cold. She was frightened, more frightened than she had ever been in her life. She looked around at her bedroom and out the window at the snow covered vistas beyond her house. This wasn't where she was supposed to be. Someone had taken her life. Someone had taken her memories and put her here. The baby was on fire, but it was giggling… The baby was doing all kinds of things that babies don't usually do. Floating… burning… There was a bright light and a lot of questions and then there was… nothing. She tried to remember her life before moving to Stavenger but every time she thought about it, she got confused. Someone had gone through a lot of trouble to make sure she didn't know who she was or where she came from… the baby was burning... giggling and burning… there was a dark haired girl with piercing blue eyes and a shy smile… a flash of light… a floating baby… blue eyes… shy smile… She shook her head to try and clear the images. Something was wrong with her memory. Her mind was playing tricks on her. She suddenly felt tired. As she pulled her blankets up around her, she could almost hear the droning voice telling her to forget about the baby, forget about the girl, forget about the voice… That was even scarier, but she couldn't do anything about it as sleep overcame her.
Bob slept like the dead.
Next time: The Morning After.