Oh hey. Look, I have returned! Finally. It's nice to be back, though, and I hope y'all are still with me! This is the sequel to "The Only Pay-off" and as such, should be read after that one if you haven't already. I've got what I hope is a fun story planned, and I'm going to try to do updates every other week at the least, but with a new job and a ton of other stuff for other fandoms and my own original fiction…at least I'm not sick anymore! Ok, sorry to babble, off we go!
Chapter One: Back From Where I've Been
It was dark, the huge room filled with eerie red light that didn't seem to have a source. Hiro couldn't breath, couldn't feel his feet, his hands, couldn't move, not even to blink, but he didn't have to. Around him was rubble, collapsed support beams and chunks of cement pocked with scars from the microbots, from Wasabi's blades, from being hurled into walls. Hiro knew every inch of what was around him, even with his eyes locked on one person, his vision blurring and his hearing muffled.
He'd seen this all before, night after night after night. Always the same. He knew it was a dream, the logical, aware part of his brain screamed that this was wrong, that this was over, that this was done, but at the same time it was almost like living it for the first time, something like adrenaline coursing through his veins, anger and fear and desperation all melting together.
"It's over, Krei," he said, knowing that it was wrong, but unable to deviate. This time, like every time he'd seen it in his dreams, when the man stood, his face revealed, Honey Lemon did not gasp from above, Go Go didn't tackle him without warning, Wasabi did not sway like he wanted to vomit, Fred didn't shout out demanding a surrender.
This time, they were with the rubble, bodies broken. This time, he had failed.
Wake up, Hiro ordered himself but couldn't, and the fuzziness at his vision swept through his whole body, as if to say, no. This is real, it is all real, and you are alone.
"Where's my brother?" he demanded of the Yokai, who was morphing now, Callaghan's face twisted with shadow, his hands and coat shifting into tendrils of microbots.
"Too late," the voice rang from everywhere, permeating the room like the light, a terrible truth, "Too late. You should have been better, Hiro, should have been smarter, should have worked harder." And the shadows pulled away.
"How could you? How could—Where is my brother? What did you do to him?" Hiro dropped, or rather, the floor did, because he was on the ground, and he could feel the cold of it, the sharp gravel pressing on his legs—you couldn't feel that in dreams, could you? But no, this was a dream, he knew it was a dream, because Tadashi wasn't dead, Tadashi was alive and alive and alive and not lying there in the red glow, eyes vacant, clothing bloodstained.
It wasn't true, it wasn't true, it couldn't be true but Callaghan was laughing and he couldn't move, couldn't tear his eyes from where his brother's chest wasn't rising.
And then the light turned to flames, swallowing the world.
He woke, breathing hard, sweat gluing his shirt to his back and chest. The room was dimly lit by a nightlight in one corner, the blinds open to admit the orange glow from the streetlight below and the moon above, bright where it broke through the wisps of fog. Hiro blinked, trying to use the breathing pattern Baymax had told him about, flexing his fingers as if to be certain they all still worked. He glanced over to Tadashi's bed, tugged over close to his, and sighed. The lump of covers shifted with the older boy's breathing, the fat pile of fur that was their cat curled up close to his side.
It was ok. Tadashi was alive. It had only been a dream.
But it had been so close to a reality. Hiro knew that it was mostly luck—a miracle—that had saved his brother. If he and the others had been just a day later—or if they'd been a little more careless, if he'd been a little less prepared—they all might have died. And it would have been his fault, as much as Aunt Cass told him not to blame himself.
Hiro slid himself up against the wall, hugging his knees. He wouldn't cry. It was only a dream. It was just a stupid nightmare, not real, not—
"Hiro?" a voice broke through his concentration. Hiro looked over at Tadashi, leaning up on his stronger arm and peering at him through the thin light. "Are you—are you ok?"
"'m fine." Hiro lied through his teeth. Tadashi knew it. He leaned up and turned on the light, the lamp filling the room with a soft, pinkish-yellow glow, warm and comforting.
"Were you dreaming?" Tadashi asked, still keeping his voice down.
"It's nothing." Hiro said again. Tadashi had worse dreams, he was sure. Tadashi had been the one who got kidnapped, who got hurt, while Hiro hadn't even looked for him. Sometimes, his older brother still woke up gasping, or crying out, fumbling for the light and trembling for long, tense minutes until Mochi could calm him, or Cass came running up the stairs with a mug of tea, or Hiro tried to remind him that he was home.
"Doesn't look like nothing," Tadashi said. " Do you want to tell me about it?" He hoped Hiro would. Hiro hadn't shared much of any of the things that clearly haunted his dreams, but this was the third night in a row.
"No." Hiro shrugged. "I just…can't sleep."
"Hiro."
"Really, I'm—I'm fine, it's nothing, it's just…"
Tadashi slipped out from under his coverlet and padded over, his thick wool socks making no noise. He sat on the edge of Hiro's bed.
"It's ok not to be fine. That's what they keep telling me, and it was—it was bad for you, too."
Hiro shook his head, but finally closed his eyes. It was easier to admit, in the warm little room, just the two of them and Mochi. He couldn't tell Aunt Cass, or the others, or the therapist that Fred had found and apparently paid for. But he'd always told Tadashi everything.
"I just—I keep seeing the fire. And Callaghan, and—and I'm too late."
Tadashi put an arm around his brother's shoulders, and Hiro collapsed against him.
"Every night, I remember that—that you could have—you almost—and it would have been my fault. It would have been, because of me, and the Microbots. I know Callaghan made his own choices, but—but if I hadn't…and the fire. It was all because of me, and you could have died."
Tadashi nodded, saying nothing for a moment. "I'm right here, Hiro. I didn't die, because of you. You and the others made it. You got me out. It's ok."
Hiro shrugged miserably.
"And," Tadashi continued, his thoughts jumbled all together in this early morning search for comfort. "It wasn't your fault. About the fire. Krei tech sponsored the thing, Callaghan admitted he'd always intended to set it on fire, to help ruin him. That wasn't because of you, none of it was. You didn't make me run in there, so that's not on you either, and I know it doesn't help the nightmares, but—we can't change the past. But—if I could go back? I'd do it again."
It was the wrong thing to say. Hiro's eyes blazed, he stiffened and glared, his eyes overbright. "How can you say that? How can you even say that?" he demanded. "I thought you were gone, I thought you were dead!"
Tadashi shook his head. He'd given this a lot of thought, wondering about what-ifs without voicing them. "If I hadn't run in there, what would have happened?"
"You'd have been safe," Hiro snapped.
"Maybe. But…But Callaghan would have needed someone to reverse engineer the microbots. He'd have taken you, maybe both of us, but—he'd have taken you."
"It should have been me." Hiro whispered it, sounding defeated. "It was my invention. It was my fa-"
"If you say 'fault', I'm going to tickle you. And tell Go Go and Honey you're still blaming yourself." Tadashi took a deep breath. "I'd do anything to keep you from having to go through what I did, Hiro."
"You shouldn't."
"But I will. I'm your big brother, that's my job."
Hiro blinked, then slowly gave a single, jerking nod. He wanted to say something snarky, or clever, something to ease the mood and change the subject, but he was too tired. So he settled for a question instead.
"Will you read? Some more of the book? Unless—it's just, I don't think I can sleep."
"Me neither," Tadashi said, leaning back and grabbing the book they'd been reading for the last week off the nightstand, then shifting so he could stretch out his legs. He was glad for the excuse to keep the light on, to hold off on his own sleep.
Hiro was not the only one plagued by nightmares.
Yes, I know, it's just short. Future chapters will be longer. Chapter title is from "Trip the Light" by Alicia Lemke.
Anyway, hope you'll leave a comment. This story should be about as long as Only Pay off, or a little shorter, and I'm hoping to have it done by Christmas. It starts up more or less a month after the first story ends—feel free to ask any questions.
G'night, and see you all in a week, hopefully.
