They gave Syndrome a trial, if only because there were still one or two people who had sued supers twenty-five years before clamoring for justice. Mr. Incredible testified to what he had experienced ten years previous, naming every super Syndrome had killed that he could remember. Caroline took the stand after that. Old enough to remember her father kidnapping Jacob, she testified to the kidnapping, the lies he had told them, and the plots. When asked to fill in the supers Mr. Incredible had missed, she hesitated, then asked if they were prepared for the length of time it would take her. They assured her they were, so she completed the list. Twenty-five years before, there had been a total of eighty supers nationwide. Bob had been able to list twenty of them. Caroline rattled off fifty-six more. The courtroom seemed shocked to discover that only Mr. Incredible, ElastiGirl, Frozone, and Irony were left. They seemed shocked to discover it themselves. Syndrome found himself serving seventy-six life sentences for murder, four ninety-year sentences for attempted murder, one sixty-year sentence for kidnapping, and thirty days for disorderly conduct.

Bob and Helen invited Austin and Caroline to live with them. Two weeks later, Caroline was enrolled at the high school Dash and Violet had attended and Austin had somehow landed a job with Bob's firm.

Towards Christmas of that year, Jacob and Caroline were sitting outside on the front porch. Caroline was showing him the constellations when Bob came out.

Jacob looked up and grinned. "Hi, Dad."

Caroline grinned also, then stood up and slipped inside. She was the sort of person who saw what needed to be done and did it without being asked. Bob was glad; he wanted to talk to Jacob.

"Jacob," Bob said slowly, "I want to...well, I want to apologize."

"For what, Dad?"

Bob hesitated. How did he say it? For missing Jacob's first steps, first words, first day of kindergarten, first loose tooth, for not helping him learn to read, ride a bike..."I want to apologize for not being there for you. For missing your childhood. I mean, I'm sure Syndrome didn't do too bad a job, but..."

Jacob grinned. "Dad, it's not your fault. Are you sure you're not just a little upset that you don't have any memories or baby pictures or anything like that?"

Bob gave him a crooked grin. "That's probably a part of it."

"I had a feeling you'd say something like that." Jacob reached into the rucksack he carried around with him and pulled out another photo album. This one was marbled scarlet with silver writing, which read Memories.

Bob took it carefully and opened it. Caroline had kept a baby book for Jacob, a record of his past. "I think she knew that someday, I'd come back to you and you'd want to know what you'd missed."

"She was right," Bob murmured. There were four pages for each of the past ten years. Three of them showed various candids Caroline, Syndrome, and the guards had taken. On the fourth page was the "firsts" of the year. In his first year were written First Birthday, First Christmas, and First Steps. These were accompanied by a picture of Jacob covered in chocolate cake, Jacob sitting on top of a mountain of wrapping paper with a bow on his head, and another copy of the picture Helen had seen in the other photograph album of Jacob taking uneasy steps toward Caroline, who was waiting eagerly.

Bob turned the pages. No detail had been left out. His first word was listed as "Ca-wine", with "Da-Da" in a close second. His first tooth lost was when he was six--his upper left incisor--and was taped to the scrapbook. When he was nine, there was yet another tooth taped to the page, listed as "First Tooth Not Put Under Pillow", this one the bottom right pre-molar--the tooth Jacob had lost about the time he stopped believing in the tooth fairy. In fact, looking through the book, there was only one thing Bob couldn't find.

"Jacob, what about your first day of school?"

Jacob looked sheepish. "Syndrome home-schooled us. I didn't have a real first day of school." He looked up at his father. "And what's really sad about it is that we didn't know any different. We thought it was okay. Caroline was the one who taught me that not everyone was like that."

"Caroline taught you a lot," Bob observed.

Jacob nodded. "She had more of a hand in raising me than Syndrome...and she taught me more than he did about almost everything."

Bob smiled. "She sure did a good job."

Jacob gave his father a grin and a hug. Bob hugged him back. And from the window of the kitchen, Caroline smiled.

Fin