A/N: I'm alive! Sorry, guys. I know it's been a while since I've written a fanfic, the real world has kept me very busy, and I've had a couple of bouts of depression. Gross. But anyway, fret not, for I will be returning to my WIR fics soon. This is just something I had to get out of that big brain of mine. I don't own Big Hero 6, Marvel and Disney do. (But a Baymax would probably help with my road rage).
'We've invited all these people. Might as well give 'em a show.'
Abigail Callaghan's words echoed through her own mind as she woke, her iPhone's alarm alerting her to the fact that it was time to wake up. Weakly, she sat up, remembering what today was: the first day of her rehabilitation therapy. With the sinking feeling of dread hard in her stomach, she shuffled herself into her wheelchair. Two years of hypersleep had left her with ill effects, to say the least, and regaining her muscle control wasn't exactly coming easy. She had mastered the basics, such as getting herself into her wheelchair and feeding herself, but largely everything else required assistance. "A-Ah!" She grunted in pain as her left ankle hit the footrest of her wheelchair.
There was a beep from the corner of her room, and her own personal Baymax unit – built by the Hamada boy as a goodwill gesture – ballooned to life. "Hello," it said, giving a slight handwave. "I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion. I was alerted to the need for medical attention when you said 'Ah'." He continued his assessment matter-of-factly, the only way he was able to speak. She'd lived with the robot since her admission into San Fransokyo General two weeks prior, and his manner of speaking was something she was just now getting used to.
"Nah, Baymax, I'm fine," she rasped.
"Do you require assistance in going to the cafeteria?"
She folded her hands in her lap. "Uh, yes. Please." She granted him a small smile, looking down and pinching a bit of her sweatpants' leg's fabric idly. The robot toddled over to her, taking her chair's handles and slowly wheeling her out of the room. "The weather today is cloudy, with a high chance of rain," Baymax advised.
She nodded her head slightly in understanding.
"Abigail. Your neurotransmitters are decreased dramatically from yesterday's reading," Baymax said.
"Don't remind me," she whispered. She hoped the robot wouldn't notice the gray shirt she wore was stained with tears – or that it was slightly rumpled from sleeping in it, only a maroon Krei Tech zip-up hoodie covering the more incriminating wrinkles.
"What seems to be the trouble?"
It was the notification she'd gotten on her phone at midnight, 'DADDY'S BIRTHDAY – DON'T FORGET! :)'. It weighed heavier on her mind than anything had ever before. Her father was her hero…and everyone else's villain. "It's my dad's birthday, Baymax," she said softly.
"Are you going to see him?" The robot asked.
She shook her head. "I haven't…got the strength. Um, mentally." It was embarrassing to admit that the whole Yokai affair had caused her such mental anguish. She considered herself to be of sound mental wellbeing, and the background checks and physicals at Krei Tech had been proof positive of that.
"It is alright," Baymax said. "You have been through severe psychological trauma. It is okay to be upset."
"I'm not supposed to be," she whispered. "Baymax, I have to be strong."
"All right, Abigail, let's just get you out of this wheelchair here," the therapist said and aided her out of the wheelchair, and onto her feet. Her muscles still felt unusable, but then again, that was why she was here. She huffed and gripped the rails, looking down, her socked feet still as stars in the sky. She gritted her teeth and winced. "Come on, Abi," she told herself. "You can do this." She made it a few steps, and then she collapsed.
"Abi, that was so great!" The therapist said, cheering her on. It wasn't meant to be patronizing, she knew, but with all that had been going on, it felt as though she was being handled like a child. She nodded as he helped her up, and her eyes locked on to his necklace. . "Yeah," she agreed half-heartedly. "Great." She huffed and slowly toddled to her wheelchair and sat down. She rubbed her temple with her hand. "I should, uh…I should go to my, um, room."
She rolled back out into her room as fast as her atrophied arms allowed. Her breaths were ragged, and she wheeled faster, pushing herself in both the physical sense and the metaphorical. She heard the telltale signs of vinyl parts rubbing together, and she knew her inflatable friend wasn't very far behind at all.
"Abigail," Baymax addressed her. "What is wrong?"
"H-his necklace," she whispered, her voice on the verge of cracking. "I-It had a….a microbot on it." She sniffled heavily, finally sobbing.
"Abigail," Baymax repeated. "You will be all right." For a moment she found herself engulfed in the nursebot's vinyl embrace.
She nodded slowly.
"Thank you, Baymax."