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When it's all over–when Evelyn has been packed into a police car and the news cameras have stopped paying attention and everyone else has more or less gone home–Karen wedges herself into a quiet corner on the Hydroliner and cries and cries and cries.
She'd almost gotten Elastigirl killed. Four times! She'd tried to kidnap her children.
Karen had only been trying to help. Maybe meet her hero. Maybe just feel a little less… alone.
Instead she'd fallen for Evelyn's just-us-girls patter and agreed to try on her experimental goggles, and–everything after that had been a vague, tired blur, but apparently she'd done some pretty horrible things.
She'd found out about the voids when she was little, wished she could fall through the floor without her mom scolding her one more time, and did. She wishes sometimes that they didn't always have to have an opening on the other side.
She wishes that really hard, now.
She's interrupted from her sobbing by an enormous, tired-looking blond man stumbling into her corridor, a bundle of dull, metallic grey fabric dangling from one gigantic hand. He might actually be bigger than Brick or Krushauer, which she hadn’t previously thought was possible. They stare at each other in mutual horror for a moment.
She's not even wearing her mask, so she can't even slip between the voids–except wait, no, that’s not true anymore, is it? Is it? Her muzzy brain can’t work out whether the agreement between the nations ever got signed.
It’s too late, anyway. He’s seen her, and she’s too tired to control where she winds up well enough; it always gets harder with distance.
Karen still jumps when he speaks. “Um. You all right, there?”
It’s so... ordinary that she’s not sure how to interpret him. Anyway, she’s run out of room to lie. “No.”
He nods thoughtfully. “You did a good job out there, anyway. I saw you out on the dock.”
“I didn’t do a good job,” she tells him, because it’s important to be honest. At least, it’s important to be as honest as you can. She’d always wanted to be able to be more honest, and she’d been so excited, and look where that’s gotten her? She slumps harder against the wall. “I did an awful job.”
He shakes his head. “No, you did pretty well, actually. Better than I could have, in some ways.” He stares at her a moment, then appears to make a decision and sits with a huff; his absurdly short legs tucked beneath him. “Want to talk about it?”
She laughs hollowly and wishes he’d go away. “Not really.”
He shrugs and leans against the opposite wall. “It sneaks up on you like that, sometimes,” he offers. “The adrenaline leaves, and all you can think about is what you wish you’d done instead. Everyone makes mistakes.”
Karen stares at him like he’s grown three heads–the way he’s talking, he’s definitely never blown anything as thoroughly as she has. “Most people don’t make mistakes that wind up hurting that many people,” she explains very slowly. “I nearly undid all the good work that Mr. Deavor and Elastigirl did getting people not to hate us anymore. I almost got us all made illegal again.” Karen thinks about the years of hiding she’d done–how badly she’d been afraid that someone would find out. She remembers the lectures she used to get from her mother about making sure, absolutely sure that no one saw her, that no one found out what she was, because of course no one would ever understand. A wave of shame rolls over her and she curls over, trying not to vomit.
The tired man snorts. “Yeah, but that’s what being super is all about, isn’t it? You have to try to do the best you can, and apologize when you make it worse.” He pauses to think for a minute, but the blood that starts pounding through Karen’s ears drowns him out.
He’s talking like he’s been there, not like a cameraman, and abruptly Karen realizes who he must be: he’s got to be Mr. Incredible, Elastigirl’s husband, she’s been crying her heart out to her hero’s husband right after she nearly killed his kids, there’s no one else that build and size around. She blanches, fighting down the wave of nausea, and tries to ignore the concerned look on Mr. Incredible’s face.
If anyone had asked her before all this what Mr. Incredible looked like underneath his mask, Karen would never have guessed about the deep, purple-dark eye bags.
He’s looking at her. “Kid. Kid, are you okay?” He looks worried. Fuck, fuck, she’s just making it all so much worse. “Yeah,” Karen says thickly. “I’m so sorry, sir.”
He rolls his eyes, abruptly out of patience. “Kid, I’m exhausted, but I just wanted–you know I’ve made all kinds of mistakes, right? You’re not the first person to mess everything up when you were trying to do the right thing. Do you hear me?”
Karen’s voice is very small. “Yes, sir.” She’s not going to contradict him now.
It doesn’t seem to help. “Oh, for–you know what? Do you have anywhere to be right now, Voyd?” He remembered her stupid superhero name, fuck, what the hell is she supposed to do with that? Karen dumbly shakes her head.
“Right,” he says, apparently having come to some sort of decision. “C’mon. I’m going to see Edna anyway about this mess”–he shakes the sad heap of grey fabric irritably, and Karen belatedly recognizes it as Elastigirl’s new suit, the one the Deavors made her–“so she can shred it or burn it or whatever darned dramatic thing she wants to try, because she’s still mad as a wet cat about the whole DevTech designer thing. I might as well show you someone who can get you distracted from this funk while I’m at it.”
“Are–are you talking about Edna Mode?!”
“Yeah. C’mon, kid, if you’re going to sit here and have a crisis after a mission like a real super, you ought to dress like one.”
Karen thinks for a moment before pulling herself to her feet. She’s not sure about any of this, but... well. If Mr. Incredible thinks she can do this...
maybe, a very small voice in her head thinks, maybe she can do a little good after all. maybe. If she tries.
Karen follows Mr. Incredible out of the corridor, daring very, very quietly to hope.