This story takes place about two years before the events of "Stepping Out."

Prologue: September

"Do you want to go to the funeral?" the warden asked quietly.

Blue was holding Minion on his lap. He was idly tracing patterns on Minion's bowl, but at Parker's words a flash of near-panic passed over his face. Minion's eyes shifted quickly from Blue to the warden and back again.

"It would only be for a few hours," said Parker. He waited for this to sink in. I don't care if the committee doesn't like it, Parker thought. He should be able to go.

Blue began stroking the bowl again, as if Minion were a cat. Parker saw that the boy's sleeves were too short; his bony wrists were exposed. The warden glanced down. The cuffs of the boy's pant legs were almost up to his calves. Geez. The kid must've grown four inches over the summer. How could he not have noticed? And why didn't the boy tell him that he needed a new uniform? He always had in the past.

Minion's spindly little robotic suit stood by the head of the bed. It was a little bigger than the last one. When Minion was installed in it, the top of his dome brought him up to Blue's shoulder height.

"No thank you," the boy said formally.

"Minion can come too. I can get you a suit," said Parker. It would be a hassle finding something that would fit Blue on such short notice, but he thought that maybe one of Dan's or Sammy's old suits would work, if he could figure out where they were stored.

Blue shook his head again and smiled mirthlessly. "I fear that my presence will distract from the main event," he said. His smile faded and he looked down at Minion's bowl again.

It was an excuse, but sadly, he was probably right. It wouldn't surprise the guards that would come to pay their respects, but Blue's presence was sure to excite some comment among the other mourners. Al Kopecki had been a gregarious and outgoing individual. There was bound to be a crowd at the church. The boy hadn't set foot outside the prison grounds in six years. Parker sometimes feared that he was hopelessly institutionalized.

They sat silently for a little longer.

"It's on Thursday, 10:30. Think about it. Let me know if you change your mind." Parker paused. "You know that you can call me at home at any time, right?"

Blue didn't say anything. Parker put his hand on his shoulder. Immediately the boy stood up and turned away, holding Minion to his chest.

"Will that be all, warden?" he said stiffly.

Parker stared at his ward's rigid back and over-sized head. He wished he could get Blue to call him 'Dad' again, but it wasn't the sort of thing you could order someone to do.

"Yes, that's about it," he said. He left the cell.

Three Months Later

Daniel came weaving his way home to the Parker household at 3:30 AM, and very carefully parked his car more or less in the driveway. It was off the street and only partially covered the sidewalk. Good enough. The Christmas lights that hung on the outside of the house were still on, which might have clued him in that someone was still awake, if he hadn't been higher than a kite.

He got the back door open on the fifth try and entered the kitchen. He wove his way past the chairs, and knocked one over with a crash. He grimaced in the dark, making elaborate shushing motions with his hands, though there was no one to see it. He picked the chair up and continued on his stumbling way through the house.

Slowly he realized there was a light on in the living room. He followed it as if entranced. Somehow he was not surprised to see his father sitting in one of the easy chairs.

A paper sack sat on the coffee table. Dan's personal property. He felt a slight sense of outrage that his father had so obviously searched his room, but it was buried under the numbing buzz of narcotics, and the even more numbing, paralyzing buzz of guilt.

John Parker stood and picked up the sack. "I don't want to hear it," he said, though Dan hadn't been able to think of anything to say, actually.

The bag was held out to him.

"Just pack your things and get out," his father said. "I don't want to hear from you again. You are no longer a part of this family."

Dan stared at his father's face for a few seconds, then snatched the sack out of his hand as if worried that it was going to be taken away from him after all.

He went to his room. A few minutes ago the only thing on his mind was finding his bed and sleeping for a week, but the brief encounter with Dad was having the same effect as a bucket of ice water over the head, and now his only desire was to get out of the house. He threw a bunch of clothes in a duffel bag, got his other stash, and left via the front door, so he wouldn't have to pass by the living room again and see his father standing there.

Parker was glad the next day was a visiting day. The prisoners were usually better behaved, at least the ones that were expecting visitors. He could make it through, he could handle it, the paperwork, the meetings, the little quarrels and complaints, he could make it. Just let it be a quiet day. He felt like he was made of glass. Any sudden movements would cause him to shatter.

He stopped by the security chief's office and briefly informed Walter Schmidt of the events of the past night. Schmidt stared at him somberly and advised him to take the day off.

"Taken too many sick days as it is, Walt," said Parker, getting to his feet. "Just giving you a heads up."

He passed by the boy's cell but it was empty. Blue and Minion were out already, probably holed up in the workshop or the library. They didn't get visitors.

He always made it a point to at least say hello, to exchange a pleasantry or two, though in the boy's case it was more and more of an unpleasantry.

Since the guard he called Uncle Al-the only guard who ever received that honorific- had died, the boy's sarcasm had only gotten worse.

He found them in the library. Minion was flipping a deck of cards into a wastebasket, one by one. Blue was lying on the floor, feet up on the old couch, idly kicking a cushion onto the floor and reading a magazine. A pillow was folded up under him, the bulk of it wedged under his thin neck. Derrick, the old and surly librarian, was giving them an evil look for messing up his precious library.

The kid craned his head around at the sound of Parker's footsteps. Blue's eyes flickered briefly up and down as if he were looking for something, then he turned his attention back to the magazine. Parker nodded at Minion, who gave him a brief, guarded smile in return.

"You're going to help put things away later, right, Blue?" he asked.

"Megamind," the boy said.

Parker was not in the mood to get drawn into another infuriating discussion on names. It just lead to snide remarks. Parker wondered if he were doing anyone any favors by letting it slide. He hoped it was some phase that the boy would grow out of. It was probably because he was around thugs all day who had nicknames like "Stiletto" and "Bruiser."

"Would it kill you to be civil for once?" Parker asked wearily.

"Yes." The boy held the magazine close. All Parker could see was the top of his bald head and his hands.

"Just try not to get on Derrick's bad side, will you?"

Blue grunted. "Does he have any other side?" he muttered.

There must be some universal teenage genetics at work, that cut through all laws of time and space, Parker reflected as he went to the office. Dan had been like this, and never grown out of it, Melanie was just starting to come out from under its influence, though admittedly she was much more likely to be quiet and withdrawn rather than sarcastic, and Sammy, his youngest, was in the thick of it. Blue was only twelve, but it looked as if he would out-do all of them in teenage surliness.

And so the day wore on, time unspooling from its reel. He got his work done, wrote a recommendation for a new parolee, and continually steered his mind away from thoughts of Dan, and all the "could've and should've" thoughts. It was too late. Five grueling sessions of rehab over the years, and Dan hadn't changed, at all, and to find out that he was a full-blown drug-dealer, well, that was the last straw.

This weekend would be an ordeal. He made the long trip to visit Joyce at the facility every Saturday. This time he was going to have to explain what had happened with their eldest son. He wasn't sure if it would help if Melanie and Sammy were along. Maybe this time they could stay home. Joyce was bound to take the news badly. He felt tired just thinking about it.

The shadows had already claimed most of the courtyard. Visiting day was over and people were leaving. Megamind and Minion walked out into the yard. It was unusually balmy for December and Megamind didn't bother with a jacket, but the wind was starting to feel sharp. The sun was going down fast. He turned his collar up.

There were some other prisoners standing around and talking in little groups of two and three, enjoying a few minutes of free time before the supper hour. Two men in prison orange were locked in an intimate embrace by a far wall, only partly hidden by shadow. Privacy was hard to come by around here. The other men ignored them in the time-honored tradition of Looking the Other Way, and Not Noticing Anything Going On At All.

"Who's that?" Minion wondered.

"Just Uncle Lenny and Uncle Sid," Megamind said dismissively.

They walked over to the gate and peered idly out into the parking lot. A harassed looking middle aged woman was ushering three slouching teenagers to a rusted out station wagon, two boys and a girl.

"Ford," Minion said.

"It's a Dodge, obviously," said Megamind. "Look at the headlights."

Minion picked some old cobwebs off the bars.

"I'm...sure the warden's just busy, Sir. I'm sure he didn't mean to forget," said Minion.

"Yes, no doubt he's got problems with his real kids. I don't want to talk about it, Minion. I do not care," said Megamind. "I'm too old for presents, anyway." He held his hand up to the sun's rays. The dying light was a deep yellow, burnishing everything it touched with a gold hue.

He wondered, just a little, what was up with the old man. Like this morning, the warden hardly seemed to notice that Megamind was snubbing him. Of course, if the gossip he'd heard was anything to go by, it sounded like the eldest of Parker's brood would be occupying one of the cells at this very prison any day now.

His lip curled at the thought. He could become reacquainted with Dan Parker. What a joy that would be.

Joyce, the warden's wife, had once made semi-regular visits, but that was years ago. He'd liked her well enough, but she had a fragile, scattered quality about her that sometimes made him nervous, and the fact that she frequently dragged her kids along with her, in the hope that they would all become good chums, often made her visits more of an ordeal to be endured rather than a treat.

The Parker children were all older than him, Dan by a good ten years. Dan tended to pinch him when their mother wasn't looking, to make him yelp. Melanie was easiest to get along with, since she was always reading, just like him. She didn't talk much, but once she got over her surprise that he could read the same sorts of things she did, she sometimes could even be persuaded into actually talking. She shared her comics, too, though Dan always made a point of informing her that comics were for boys and that she was, therefore, a total geek. Sammy, the other boy, resented Blue's very existence, and ignored him as much as possible. Minion said Sammy was just jealous because Sir was younger, which sounded rather stupid, since Sammy got to go home to a real house with actual parents. And Sammy was jealous? He had to take Minion's word for it.

At least getting ignored and picked on was good preparation for shool.

Whenever their elder brother was around, they became quiet and withdrawn. One day he realized that they, too, were afraid of Dan, and he felt a kind of solidarity with them.

Then Joyce stopped coming. The relief he felt at not having to put up with Dan anymore was short-lived. He missed Joyce and Melanie. He even missed Sammy. One day his Daddy the warden sat him down and explained that Joyce was...ill, and had to go to a special hospital. It all sounded very suspicious. He asked Uncle Al about it later. The old guard was usually much more straightforward about things, but on this subject he had been surprisingly close-mouthed, and, infuriatingly, told him that he'd understand when he was older. Megamind heard a few of the guards talking, and one of them said that Joyce Parker had been "locked up in the nuthouse," which made him think she'd gotten sent to some sort of prison.

Shortly afterwards he decided he'd had enough schooling, and that he might as well do his best to be as bad as possible, and left the Little Red Schoolhouse in the most dramatic fashion. But Joyce's disappearance and his expulsion were two completely separate events that didn't have any relation to each other whatsoever. He was sure of it.

Al was right; he did understand, now that he was older, but a lot of time and confusion could have been avoided if they had just told him that his foster mother had an illness in her mind. He and Minion took to finding ways of keeping themselves busy on visiting days.

Megamind's eyes drooped. The insomnia was pretty bad lately. He'd barely slept three hours in the last two nights, but now he was almost asleep on his feet. Maybe he could get forty-two winks tonight, or whatever it was.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder and spun him around. Frank Wilson stood over him, a six foot slab of red-faced disgruntlement with a bad comb-over.

Frank Wilson. His uncles, and the warden too, had warned him away from Frank. Frank was doing time for taking a swing at the cop who'd come to break up the domestic disturbance. Breaking your wife's jaw wasn't quite enough to get you sentenced, apparently. She hadn't pressed charges. She even came by to visit, and made sure the kids did, too. And now the bastard was hulking over him.

"You lookin' at my daughter?" Frank said in a low voice.

Megamind stared at Frank's bulbous nose and blood-shot eyes in confusion. He understood the words, of course, but there was some bizarre undercurrent to the question that he wasn't quite getting. He looked uncertainly towards the parking lot. The station wagon was pulling out of its space. Was Frank wondering where she was? He thought that was Frank's family that was just leaving, but that didn't seem to be what the angry man was asking.

"What?" he asked, hoping for clarification.

"I said, are you lookin' at my girl?" Frank snarled.

O...kaaay, a mere rephrasing of the same question.

He glanced at Minion, but the little ichthyoid looked as bewildered as he did. Megamind would have gotten the hell out of there, but he was backed up against the wall. Frank was starting to look seriously unhinged.

"I...guess," Megamind said, swallowing. He glanced out the gate again. "She was-"

Frank backhanded him across the face and his head hit the wall. White spots danced across his vision. He crouched down, gaping at Frank in shock, ears ringing. Frank was screaming at him, and calling him all kinds of filthy names.

"Owww!" Frank yelled, leaping back and grabbing his leg. Minion was kicking furiously, his little metal feet hard as steel-toed boots, until Frank was hopping from foot to foot. Frank swatted at Minion, and Megamind tensed, preparing to throw himself at the man, and then Uncle Sid came crashing in.

Sid was the smaller man, but in terms of total berserk rage, he was about ten feet tall, and soon Frank was fighting to get away from him.

Frank took several more blows before he was able to tear free of Sid's furious grip. He backed away. Sid's boyfriend Lenny, one of the biggest men in the place, had come over to offer moral support and was cracking his knuckles, though clearly Sid didn't need any help. Frank backed up a little further.

"What the fuck's your problem? Huh?" Sid rasped.

Frank dabbed his wrist on his bloody mouth. He pointed at Megamind. "I'm not havin' that lookin' at my daughter," he said, not one to deviate from his course.

Sid looked at Megamind, who was still standing by the wall. Megamind gave a helpless shrug. He tried to grin, but stopped at the sharp pain from his lip. He was finally starting to have an inkling of the nature of the situation when the world took another loop further into insanity.

Sid walked over and smacked Megamind across the head.

Megamind stared at the ground, blinking hard. Minion gave a startled squeak and huddled against his master's side, but for once Megamind didn't put his arm around Minion's shoulders. His arms hung loose at his sides.

"Wake up, damn it!" Sid snapped, standing over him. "Pay attention! Don't you know nothin'? If you even look like you're staring, that's enough excuse for some a these bastards! How long you been livin' here?"

Megamind stared at the ground. He was wondering what planet he'd landed on this time.

"Yo, man, chill out," murmured Lenny, glancing around. The guards were coming.

"You're too easy on him, Len! Next guy could break his neck, you think of that?" Sid said. "A lot worse than a little smack on the face! He's always got his head in the clouds! We're always savin' him. He better grow up. He's gotta learn to watch out for himself."

Sid's rage pressed on him like a physical force. Minion anxiously shoved himself a little harder against Megamind's chest and Megamind laid his hand on the bowl to soothe him.

Then the guards were all around them, barking out orders and pushing people around. Minion was pulled away from him and made to stand with the other perceived culprits of the fight.

Megamind wondered bleakly if he should be insulted that Frank thought he was the wrong sort, or flattered, that Frank thought he was actually capable of fooling around with a girl.

Not too long ago, if he ran across a person of the female persuasion, his ears would turn dark red, his cheeks would flush, and he would turn into a tongue-tied idiot. It wasn't his fault that everybody's chests were at his eye level. He could control himself better now, he was able to maintain an air of aloofness no matter the occasion, but his awkward reactions had once been a source of endless amusement amongst guards and prisoners alike.

Or used to be. A line had been crossed. He could sense it. He hadn't even known there was a line, but he crossed it nevertheless. Oh, he already sort of knew about the "don't even think about lookin' at my woman" neanderthal crap, but he never had to worry about it before.

And so the whole sorry episode might have come to an end, with everyone sent back to their cells, if security chief Schmidt hadn't been there, too, and demanded to know what was going on.