It all started on a seemingly ordinary day when Roxanne stepped up behind her blue man, who wasn't wearing his cape, ran her hand along the curve of his hip and got a visual surprise.

"Wha? What happened to my hand? It looks like it just ends at the wrist, but I can still feel it. I'm wiggling my fingers and I don't see anything moving."

"But I feel it, temptress." One acid green eye looked at her over his shoulder. "Mmm."

"No, seriously. What's going on here?"

"Invisible pockets. It's the same technology that makes the disguise feature of the watch possible. Pockets are very useful, but ordinary pockets would ruin the line of my costume, so I invented these."

"Plural? So there's one on the other side?" As she spoke, she was sliding her other hand along his other hip, where it, too, seemed to vanish. "Hmm. I think I need to investigate further. What does the no-longer-evil Overlord keep in his pockets?" He no longer used the title in public, but they both used it in private as part of their affectionate banter. She felt around while he purred. "Okay, pen... wrench... measuring tape... Altoids... little oval thing..."

"That's the keyless entry for the Invisible Car."

"... and something dehydrated." She pulled out the cube. "Hmm. This could be anything," she commented.

She saw his shoulders hunch. She stepped around him to see his face. It had a look of embarrassment.

"What?" she asked. "Is this some leftover evil thing?"

"No, it's not evil, exactly."

"Then, what? What is it?"

"It's..." His expression flinched up like he was expecting to be slapped in the face. "It's Bernard."

"Bernard, the guy you impersonated so you could date me?" The blue man nodded. "He's been in your pocket how long?"

"Well, I dehydrated him at the Metro Mahn Museum, the night I blew it up." He turned to face her. "I was used to not paying attention to whether there were people in a building I was about to blow up, because I knew Metro Mahn would save them. I only realized after the timer was set on the explosives that there was someone there whom I was endangering. Two someones, in fact. You and him. So I dehydrated him, took his place and escorted you out of the building."

"And then you kept him for more than two years?" Amazed and indignant, she stepped back from him as she spoke. He nodded again. "Why?!"

"Well... Back when we were evil, it was a tactic. I'd always keep a dehydrated citizen or two in my pockets and then, when we were being pursued by Metro Mahn or the police, I'd toss one out, Minion would add a squirt of water and suddenly there would be a citizen in need of rescue. It was particularly effective when it was Wayne because he wouldn't use superspeed when the cameras were on him. He didn't just want to apprehend me; he wanted to be seen apprehending me, and superspeed would spoil that. But he also wanted to be seen saving lives, so he'd always stop for a falling citizen."

"But why did you keep him even after you turned good?"

"Habit? Partly, and partly I was afraid of your reaction if I just turned him loose and you ran into him. But now that you know that doesn't matter. I'll put him outside and rehydrate him and he can go on with his normal life."

"What normal life? He was probably declared dead in the museum explosion. He'll have lost his home, his career and whatever money he had. He'll have to rebuild his life from scratch. And you should help him."

"I sh-" Megamind's face went through several changes of expression before finally settling on a kind of resigned submission. "All right. You know what to do better than I do. What should I do first?"

"First, we tell Doctor Connor about him."

Eglantyne "Lannie" Connor, MD and PhD, was the only psychiatrist in the world who specialized in treating Post-Dehydration Trauma, although informally she defined her specialty more broadly as "post-Megamind Trauma". Roxanne was one of her longtime patients. She had helped the reporter to work through the confused tangle of anger, amusement, sexual/romantic attraction, respect for his brilliance, exasperation at his childishness and fear (not fear of him, but fear that the attraction was a sign of Stockholm Syndrome) that she felt toward the blue alien. More recently, the doctor had convinced Megamind himself to participate in several confrontation therapy sessions one-on-one with people he'd mistreated during his long criminal career. But when she heard Bernard's story over the phone, she didn't think Megamind ought to be involved in the early stages of the museum docent's treatment. In fact, she was more worried about his physical condition.

"Is this the longest you've kept a person or animal in a dehydrated state?" she asked the blue hero, who wasn't feeling terribly heroic at the moment.

"By far. I think the next longest was less than a month. But, seriously, Doctor, this technology was used on our homeworld, Minion's and mine, as an equivalent of incarceration. People used to be kept in this state for decades, for serious crimes. There was always a period of adjustment afterward, but we didn't hear of any damage to health or capability."

"But none of them were Earth people. Bernard Schmidt is the first, and nobody knows what shape he's going to be in. That's why I want him rehydrated in the hospital, with just medical personnel and close family members present. You should ask the police to have someone contact his family. But don't give the cops the cube. They might lose it. Bring Bernard to me. Then I want to talk to you about making amends for this."

"Oh, Roxanne and I have already discussed that. I'm planning on offering him complete compensation for his losses, whatever help he needs getting back on his feet, a job at this new museum they're building for me, plus unlimited personal interviews, so if he wants to write more books about me, he'll have all the material he needs."

"That sounds like a good start. When the hospital staff locates his next of kin, I'll pass their contact information on to you. Put your offer in a letter and send it certified mail."

When the call was over, Megamind gave Bernard to a brainbot with orders to deliver the cube to Dr. Connor's office, then sat down at a keyboard and typed the body of the letter. The next day, the doctor emailed the names of Bernard's parents at an address in Grand Rapids. Minion finished the letter, printed it out, walked it down to the post office and sent it off.

Three days later, Megamind got an unexpected voice mail message.

"You've got some fucking nerve." That was all, but the voice was familiar. The blue alien clicked up a list display on his watch and played back one of the voices stored in it.

"... not that grossly exaggerated," was all he needed to hear. The voice was the same. Bernard had called, trying to find out what had happened to his phone. His attitude between the two recordings didn't seem to have improved. Just the opposite.

He knew that good people return stolen goods, so he needed to return Bernard's phone, but what if someone called trying to reach the city's Defender and got Bernard instead? He concluded that he would simply buy Bernard a new phone with a new plan. That ought to take care of it.

He called back the number attached to the message. It was a public phone at the hospital. He called the hospital main desk, but they wouldn't even tell him whether Bernard was still a patient. Finally, he left a message with Dr. Connor. When she called back, he rather shamefacedly explained about keeping Bernard's phone, about his call and the plan to replace it. She praised him for taking care even of the little details of being good, then informed him that Bernard had checked out of the hospital leaving no forwarding address. "You'll just have to wait," she said, "until he contacts you."

A few days after that, a slouching young man, physically multi-racial but clearly African American in his speech, ambled up to the Lair and spoke to one of the brainbots guarding the entrance.

"Hey there, machine. Got a summons for Megamind." One grasper reached for the envelope in his hand. "Naw, it's a summons, man. I got to give it to him personally." The brainbot, not understanding, transmitted its video of the interaction to Minion, who watched it, dug Megamind out of the innards of his latest invention and showed it to him. As soon as the blue inventor had wiped off the grease, both he and Minion went out to meet the process server.

"Megamind. Wow. I never thought I'd meet you, 'cause I never thought anybody'd be stupid enough to sue you. Here. You got to sign for it." Handing him the letter, the young man produced an electronic signature pad. Megamind signed, tore the envelope open and held the papers up so that he and Minion could read the first page simultaneously.

"False imprisonment?" said the fish.

###

"But most of what he's asking for here, I already agreed to in the letter," Megamind told Roxanne that evening.

"Then obviously he didn't get the letter."

"I've got the receipt on file," said Minion. "So I know his parents got it."

"Sounds like there's some kind of family drama going on here, and you're about to get dragged into it. You need a lawyer."

"But I'm ready to give him everything he's asking for, plus the interviews."

"Honey, people who sue are angry. It's good that you're ready to be reasonable, but don't expect him to be. Get a professional."

###

"False imprisonment," the lawyer read aloud, the summons in his hands. "Seven hundred forty three days. Jesus." His name was Thomas Delgado. Minion had found him by doing a search of the public records of trials for false imprisoment and picking out the name of the defense attourney with the best record. It still wasn't a very good one. Civil lawsuits for false imprisonment generally come after the defendant has already been convicted in criminal court of perpetrating a crime against the plaintiff, in the course of which the plaintiff was held prisoner by the defendant. It's a hard rap to defend against.

"So you dehydrated him to save his life, from explosives which you set, and then what? You just forgot about him? He's been a cube all this time?" Megamind nodded but Minion spoke up.

"There was one time he got in the laundry, sir, and rehydrated for a few minutes. I hit him with the Forget-Me Stick and dehydrated him again."

"When was that?"

"Let me think. It was about a month after Ms. Ritchi moved in, so January before last."

"Forget-Me Stick. What's that?" Minion pulled it out and handed it to him. He looked it over and hefted it for weight. "Looks like this thing could make a real dent in somebody. You hit him on the head with this, hard enough to stun him?"

"I knocked him out."

"So there could be an assault charge coming on top of this. Any other interactions? Did you speak to him at any time? Give any orders? Make any threats?"

"I said 'No worries' before I hit him."

"'No worries'?"

"Because he was complaining. He said it was the worst day of his life. So I fixed it for him."

Delgado gave Minion a long, confused look and then turned to his boss. "Megamind, what about you? Ever speak with him, make gestures, nod in passing?"

Megamind had to remind himself that none of the times he had impersonated Bernard counted as interactions. "I have only had one interaction with him, in the museum. When I encountered him, he immediately assumed that I was not me, but was a citizen costumed as me. With less than three minutes left on the detonator, I decided that there wasn't time to convince him that I really was me and that we both needed to leave, so I dehydrated him and stuck him in my pocket. I didn't actually speak to him at all."

"So he gets dehydrated, wakes up just long enough to figure out he's been dehydrated and that, no, that wasn't some guy in a costume, that really was Megamind, feels stupid, gets whacked on the head and dehydrated again. When he wakes up for real, two years have gone by and he's been declared dead. His job is gone. The place where he worked is gone. His stuff has been sold, thrown away or distributed to his heirs. Same with whatever savings he had or insurance payouts he had coming, and he's probably going to have to go to court to get any of it back. Strangers are living in his place. And if he was dating anyone, that person has not spent those two years pining for him. People don't do that anymore. The person has moved on. And, on top of all that, your turn to good has made his book about you obsolete. He's fucked six ways from Sunday, it's your doing and suing you will kill two birds with one stone. It'll get him back on his feet financially and it'll get him a little revenge."

"I understand that. Believe me, I understand the hunger for re-vahnge. I'm not trying to fight him here. In fact, I'm willing to meet all his demands."

"All, including the ten million for pain and suffering?"

"Er, not in one lump sum, but yes. I can sell some patents, maybe release a new invention to the public."

"I guess you really have turned to good. Okay. I will guess one other thing about this boy. He was rehydrated in the hospital, so even if that stick lived up to its name and he doesn't remember you hitting him, the medical people would have found the injury. So he could have an assult charge in there, too. But he doesn't, probably because that would turn it into a criminal matter, with all the rules and strictures that are required for a criminal trial. Most likely, he wants something a criminal trial can't give him, and that's a chance to denounce you to your face. If you meet with him, let him vent for a while, don't argue, just hear him out and give him some respect, you can have this case closed in a month or so. We'll call it a mediation session, but it'll be more like therapy."

###

He was wearing something different. Megamind knew it was irrational to expect Bernard to show up in the same brown jacket over a blue turtleneck that had been scanned into the disguise watch, but it was still somehow a shock to see him in a grey suit, white shirt and a tie patterned in brown and green. It was standard masculine dress for ordinary humans engaged in serious endeavors. The mediator, a young man with a Eurasian look to him, was wearing something similar. Bernard's hair had been combed down a bit, although it didn't seem to want to stay. An edge of healing bruise was visible along his hairline just above his left temple.

"Do you understand what you did to me?"

This was a different Bernard from the downhearted, snarking figure last seen in the Metro Man Museum. His tone was one of straightforward anger. He had a case, he had rights, and he was not about to waste the opportunity.

"Do you know what it means to have a life, a good life, and then have someone take that life, turn it upside down, shake it until everything breaks, and then toss it out in pieces over a flowing storm drain, so you can maybe catch a few little bits before they're all washed away? On the morning the Metro Man Museum opened, I had a good life. I was making a good living. My books were selling. I had friends. I had respect. I even met him once. Metro Man. He shook my hand. It was... surreal. Like I'd broken through into the realm of dreams and fantasies. And then in a few hours it was all blown away. The job was funded for the rest of the year, but with what you did to the city's economy, it was obvious that there wouldn't be a second year. The destruction of the hero I'd called indestructible made everything I'd written about him laughable. Most of all, I... we all... lost him. The transcendant wonder of him, snuffed out. The city itself was disenchanted. Desecrated. And there were people celebrating! Your fans, the people who had been rooting for you all along. When you took over, they came out of the woodwork like vermin when the lights go out. That's what I thought you were, the night you came into the museum. I never imagined that you, yourself, would come to gloat."

To gloat? Megamind wanted to respond to that, but he remembered: good people wait their turn.

"And then after you took me, after you abducted me more completely than you ever abducted Roxanne Ritchi, you did the one thing that could have made it worse. You betrayed your own true nature." The whole room went quiet with surprise. "Yes! It was in my last book! Just as Metro Man embodied all that was good and pure in our city, Megamind embodied all that was evil, all alienness, contamination and destruction. You were pure, too, in your own way, and there was a rightness in the way you terrorized us." He took a deep breath. "I saw the footage of Titan. I know you did what you had to do. But even before that, you were starting to undo what you'd done, giving the banks their money back, reconstructing buildings you'd destroyed. I didn't understand it. I still don't. You took a world that at least still made some sense and you made it nonsensical. I came back to a garbled universe. I don't even know whether I can count on gravity now, or fire heating things up instead of freezing them. And in this world I am dead. It's official. I'm still breathing, I still have physical needs, and thank God I still have two good friends that remember me, that are willing to help me, because without them I'd be homeless on the street. But I'm imposing on them, sponging, because I have nothing to give in return. Everything I had is gone, and that's your doing, and that's why I'm demanding compensation. Because I still have to live in this world, which is more completely crazy now that I ever thought possible, and you made it that way." He looked Megamind in the eyes. They held each other's gaze for a long moment.

"Do you really..." The blue hero paused and started again. "Of course, I'm prepared to meet all your demands, but... I've never known a human who expressed a desire to truly understand the universe. I thought most of you wanted to know just enough to allow you to function, and after that you'd rather engage in reproduction and consume entertainment. Is that what you really want? To understand?"

Bernard blinked in surprise. "Are you offering to teach me your science? I didn't think it would be possible for a human to understand it."

"Not impossible at all. The hard part will be unlearning the oversimplifications and outright nonsense that you learned in shool. Roxanne has already picked up a good bit of it, just from hanging around me, even though I'm not actually trying to teach her. So I'm sure, if I produce actual lessons for you, you'll be able to manage it. Just a matter of whether you're willing to do the work." Bernard didn't answer. His jaw had gone slack and his eyes were out of focus. "Is that what you want?" the blue man prompted, calling his accuser's attention back into the room.

"Yes!" A smile gently transformed his face. Megamind offered his hand to shake. Bernard came forward. The beige hand clasped the blue one. And then, to the blue hero's discomfiture, Bernard leaned in and hugged him.