While You Were Gone, Chapter 26
A/N - Thanks for sticking with this! You guys continue to brighten my day with each follow, favorite, and review. I hope you're all staying healthy & well during this long, drawn out pandemic.
Someone asked if I'd be willing to post a version of the fic without any profanity. I think it's impossible to please everyone in that regard, and it would take a lot of time on my part, especially since there are other things I'd be tempted to change about this fic at the same time. I'm glad you're enjoying the story though. :)
To Meeeee - Your review was an unexpected surprise this week! I haven't read The Gargoyle, but I've put it on my list (bring on those nitty gritty details!).
Thanks again to all of you!
Ara
Warnings: Nothing new.
Familiar characters/settings belong to Disney/Marvel.
Fred carries the ruined remains of the test melon into his house, feeling more juice soak into his sleeves. He passes the cracked and drippy fruit into the waiting hands of his butler. "Give her a proper burial, Heathcliff," he requests, giving the battered honeydew a final, lingering caress.
"Only the best, Master Fred," Heathcliff agrees, and Fred gives him a knowing nod. Organic vermiculture it is. Perhaps eventual movement to a community garden, then vegetables for a malnourished food desert... Agatha's legacy of dedication to higher purposes shall continue indefinitely!
Fred is less sure about the legacy of a certain best friend.
He figures he's been patient. Like, really patient, actually. He counts back, touching his thumb to his fingertips: almost ten months since Tadashi died. About six since he's known about Callaghan, and a few since knowing about Big Hero 6. He's coming around, but this has to be one of the Longest. Origin. Stories. EVER. Seriously, if this were a serial comic he'd be getting kind of bored. Maybe even looking for a new fandom.
He pushes up his damp sleeves and ponders a little worriedly that maybe this isn't an origin story at all - maybe Tadashi really isn't going to progress beyond The Inspiration. Is he a minor character now? Is he going to stay where he is, broken, but - you know - bravely facing it all as everyone else occasionally laments his situation? Based on Fred's recent observations, Tadashi's getting a little too good at that already.
It's a total waste of storyline potential, Fred thinks disgustedly. Tadashi is better than that. He deserves better than that. If his only role is to inspire everyone else, then he could have stayed dead - Nope! Bad thought! he reprimands himself. Tadashi's gotta at least progress to, like, helpful scientist friend or something. He created Baymax, after all. He's got a lot to offer.
"But how to move him forward?" Fred asks himself, pacing in his room. Much to his own chagrin, his attempts to encourage and motivate Tadashi himself have had less than stellar results. He leans out through the doorway of his suite, spotting his butler as he carries a pitcher of green slush down the hall. "Hey Heathcliff! How do you convince a protective but reluctant friend with a crazy injury to get involved in your superhero lifestyle?"
Lying in bed, Hiro mulls over his conversation with Tadashi. Meeting his older brother where he is is easier said than done. Hiro doesn't actually want to be where Tadashi is - he doesn't like where Tadashi is. He loves his brother, is unspeakably grateful to have him again, but he doesn't like clinic visits and hours of painful stretches and doing the same activities over and over again at home. He thinks over the past months - he's been waiting for when Tadashi is really, completely back.
That's seeming less and less likely.
A memory slips in, unbidden, but Hiro recalls humid, salty air and hot sand seeping into his flip flops. He remembers being ambushed, half-carried and half-dragged by a healthy brother into the water. Yelling and laughing, shoving without having to worry about bruises or skin tears or hurting. Wave after wave, hot sun and Tadashi running to the water with a surfboard under his arm. No burns. Both of them dunked over and over, cheers when Hiro finally manages to stay upright for a few seconds, feet already slipping. Promises to go back and try again.
In the present, Hiro swallows hard and flops onto his side under the covers, turning his attention to the partition separating him from Tadashi's side of the room. It's dark and silent, save for the rhythmic whir of an oscillating fan and the occasional rustle of sheets. Any kind of beach trip is out of question, unless they go armed with a pop-up cabana and a gallon SPF 1000. Something hot dribbles out of his eye, and he swipes the tear away, but he can still feel it dampening the pillow under his cheek.
Today was good, he reminds himself. It was fun. Tadashi wasn't silent or worried or rushing to go back home. He helped with a project. He talked with friends and relaxed. He made jokes - dumb ones, but Tadashi's jokes have always been stupid. There are other moments like that, instances where Hiro fully embraces the brother he has back without wishing he was different, without wishing he could find a way to fix him.
He wishes there were more.
He shifts onto his back, staring at the darkened ceiling beams. Bits of conversations replay themselves in his head, and he mulls them over, re-examining them for clues on how to proceed.
You are one of Tadashi's primary support people. The role of a support person is to provide encouragement and help to their loved one.
Maybe it would help if you start watching out for each other a little more.
Hiro changes position again, curling and looking at Tadashi's side of the room once more. He's been trying to figure out how to do those things for months. Not good at that, he thinks.
Not good at that yet.
Contrary to Hiro's assumption, Tadashi is not asleep. His evening medication doesn't make him as foggy as it used to, and he's still awake enough to process the previous day. It was weird, he decides. Never in a million years would he have guessed he'd be running safety tests on superhero gear with his brother and friends - in a swanky mansion's backyard, no less. Definitely weird...but fun, too.
He manages to ride the high of Saturday through the rest of the weekend. The café is closed on Sundays, so his family gathers in the kitchen while Aunt Cass fries bacon on the stove. "Hey, you didn't destroy the eggs!" Hiro remarks, peering into the bowl of pancake mix in front of Tadashi.
"All the hours of OT have finally resulted in something that impresses you," Tadashi sighs, smiling and shaking his head. "Forget things like writing and brushing teeth."
"I was glad when the OT said you should unload the dishwasher," Hiro reminds him. He crosses the kitchen in order to dig for something in the freezer, returning with a bag of chocolate chips. "Tell her I'll keep tying your shoes if she can get you to clean the bathroom."
"I did that!" Tadashi almost drops a measuring cup into the pancake bowl, remembering his accomplishment a few days before.
"Cleaned the bathroom?" Hiro asks excitedly, eyes widening even while he's got his hand crammed into the chocolate chip bag.
"No, tied shoes," Tadashi responds. The task took a modified technique and more time and concentration than most people would find reasonable, and the result was sloppy - but still, it's nice knowing he can do it. He raises a critical eyebrow as Hiro helps himself to more chocolate chips. "You're not going to have any of those left for your pancakes."
"Hiro!" Aunt Cass finally seems to realize what's going on, and she leaves the stove long enough to swipe the bag. "How'd you even find these?" Disappointment laces her voice as she continues. "I thought I put them in a really good place this time…"
They laugh over memories of hidden snacks and stolen Halloween candy, and it's a good day for taking it easy and enjoying each other's company. On days like these, Tadashi feels a little more optimistic that he can be thankful and content. Life is hard, but it's good. Maybe he can get used to this.
And then Monday rolls around.
Monday brings a rushed morning routine, hallways crammed with students, continued second glances and unwanted advice. Flipping pancakes and finally tying his shoes by himself feel like pathetic accomplishments by the time class is over, and Tadashi sighs as he rides the elevator up to the faculty offices. He's not particularly excited to discuss testing arrangements with his professor, but he supposes he should get it over with before midterms. He double-checks the room number and then pauses, looking down the correct hallway. It's unnervingly familiar. His memories of this place have always been pleasant, but they feel tainted now, like his brain had stamped rejected in big red letters across each one.
His steps slow as he reaches a particular office. It's empty, no name card in the slot next to the door, no office hours taped to the outside. Through the window in the door he can see sunshine pouring into the little room, flooding over the blank walls and bare metal desk. It's been stripped of its former personality, but Tadashi remembers a shelf crammed full of books and an outdated waiting room chair where he used to sit. Now it's empty, like none of it ever happened.
But it did. It all happened. The empty office makes him frustrated and angry, like maybe the university's way of dealing with this is to just erase it, try to forget it. But he can't. He'll never, ever be able to forget this. Tadashi wants to be able to go inside and...what? Yell? Trash it? No...all he can picture right now is leaning across the desk and telling Professor Callaghan my life is a mess, I don't know what I'm doing, I don't even like it here anymore - do you know that? Are you sorry? Do you regret it? How are -
"Tadashi?"
His professor catches him in the hallway, pulling him out of his thoughts and waving him towards a different office. "Come on in. I'm just grabbing some coffee."
When the meeting is over, his thoughts cycle back to the empty office. It's been months, but he still doesn't know how to feel: it's just a tangle of anger and confusion and questioning. Sometimes people just do stupid things, he reminds himself. Maybe it's better to just leave it at that. Step back. Choose not to dwell. Try to keep pushing forward. He makes his way out of the building, trying to shift his thoughts towards something different, something simpler.
"Hey Tadashi!"
Tadashi pauses on his descent down the steps, turning his head towards the voice. He spots Hiro waiting on the sidewalk, waving to get his attention. Why is he meeting him here? Did he miss a text about something? Is something wrong?
But his brother doesn't seem concerned. Instead Hiro hurries towards him, almost bouncing. "Wanna get lunch?" he asks, forced enthusiasm filling his voice.
Lunch? Lunch at school wasn't in the plan for today. Why is Hiro changing things up? Tadashi feels his brow wrinkling as he tries to determine what kind of ulterior motives his younger brother might have. And even if there are none - What does Hiro mean exactly? Lunch in the cafeteria, or in the lab? The cafeteria is going to be packed. Does he remember the routine for getting lunch in the cafeteria - do they still take cash, or just card? Has he reloaded his card? Can he carry a tray? Could he do it one-handedly? And how long will...
"Seriously, Tadashi - it's just lunch. You can say no if you want," Hiro interrupts his thoughts, trying to catch his gaze. "It's crunchy chicken day though."
During the entire trip through the cafeteria, Tadashi debates whether the campus favorite is actually worth it or not. He's right - it's insanely crowded and chaotic and loud. It bothers you because you haven't been here in awhile, he tells himself, but he also wonders how many people recognize him. How many of them are feeling bad for him? How many are thinking he was stupid? How many just want to get a better look at this version of him? He draws in a sharp breath as a pair of girls narrowly miss colliding with Hiro and him. "Sorry," one says absently, but then she looks over again, her wide-eyed gaze lingering before she elbows her friend.
No amount of crunchy chicken or soft serve is worth this.
But Hiro continues to navigate him through groups of students until they reach a quieter table towards the back. Fred is already there, and he waves, trying to greet them through a mouthful of tortilla chips. His tray is overloaded with salad bar items and cereal, and Tadashi is pretty sure his entire takeaway cup is full of croutons.
"You look like you just ran out of spoons," Fred announces as Hiro hurries away to grab lunch.
"What?" Tadashi manages to ask, not sure which comic book Fred is referring to this time.
"Huh. I thought you'd know that one," Fred remarks, but he shrugs it off quickly, digging into his...salad? Nachos? The stuff on his plate looks like a mash-up of both. "You know, like you just wiped out your HP."
"Oh." Tadashi nods, a little calmer now that he's slightly removed from the chaos. He doesn't mention that most days, he feels like his health points start off at a disadvantage compared to everyone else. "Do you have some kind of magic item to restore it?"
"I have chocolate milk," Fred offers, holding out the carton. Tadashi waves it away - he's pretty sure he drank too much of it in the hospital. His friend shrugs and downs at least half, right before going thoughtful. "You'd think being involved in a fire with a bunch of science stuff would give you at least one super power. I was kind of hoping for something heat-related, because that would just make sense - it's like…" Fred's voice takes on a dramatic quality as he clenches his fist, looking towards the ceiling, "...the fire tried to destroy me but I now control it...but…no powers, huh?"
"Nope." Tadashi shakes his head. Maybe the antics should annoy him, but at this point he's just glad Fred's leading the conversation.
"Hmm. Maybe they're latent and, like, they have to be awakened during a defining moment or something," Fred muses to himself, returning to his lunch. "But anyway - let me know if…"
"Oh my gosh, Tadashi!" Honey Lemon interrupts in delight, her tray clattering as she drops it down right across from him. She glances behind her to where GoGo is irritably dodging groups of preoccupied students. "Yay! We'll all be here!"
It takes a while, but half a plate of chicken later, lunch becomes...enjoyable. No one interrupts their conversation to ask questions or make observations. The bustle fades further into the background as they discuss projects and upcoming events. Eventually Tadashi finds himself arguing for the value of group assignments, even though he's the one who complained about them in the first place and he realizes...
This is the same.
In this moment, the dividing line between before and after isn't so stark. Yes, he's still tired and uncomfortable and yes, everything still happened - but this: lunch on campus, whining about page requirements and lab notes, even his friends stealing things off each other's plates - it's all the same as it would be if there had been no fire.
Near him, Hiro stops wolfing down his meal long enough to talk. "So...I thought of something for us to do together." He frowns. "It's boring though."
"What is it?" Tadashi asks, curious. He's not sure why Hiro has been taking a little more initiative, but he doesn't mind it.
Hiro continues to wait before taking another bite. "I think we should move your stuff back into the lab."
Wasabi pulls up to the Lucky Cat a little early, catching sight of Hiro already waving from inside. By the time he reaches the door, Hiro is pushing it open with his shoulder, struggling a little as he carries a good-sized cardboard box.
"Where's the other one?" Wasabi asks, and Hiro jerks his head towards a second box waiting on a table nearby.
It's strange seeing these boxes again: the cardboard is still crisp, probably because they were brand new when he packed them. They're probably the only boxes Wasabi's ever left unlabelled. He remembers standing just inside Tadashi's silent lab, these same boxes unfolded under his arm. He'd wanted to leave everything untouched, to walk back out, to break down in his car or some lonely corner of the building. Most of that afternoon is hazy now, but he remembers bits and pieces: numbly reaching to pull push pins out of charts, peeling sticky notes off the desk and walls, wondering what to do with the drawer of picked over snacks and caffeine pills. The heaviness of bringing the boxes and Baymax to the café later, three trips up and down all the stairs.
Tadashi hurries down those stairs now, pausing to hug his aunt and accept something from her before rushing outside. He takes the backseat, reaching forward to hand Wasabi a plastic cup, tea and ice cubes clinking inside. Wasabi wonders a little about the cardboard sleeve on the cup, but doesn't ask. "Thanks for everything," Tadashi says appreciatively, but for the first time, Wasabi wonders if his friend fully understands what it was like to lose him.
No matter. They carry both boxes back into the lab, and while the action doesn't erase the pain of the past, it soothes it.
Tadashi endures his two morning classes and then heads out of the building. It's a little agitating to disrupt his routine and head towards the robotics lab instead of the parking lot, but he feels obligated. By now, everyone is probably expecting him to be there. He steels himself - he can be polite and friendly for another hour. Unpack a few things to appease Hiro. Eventually find some excuse to go home.
Lunch, at least, is a pleasant distraction, but eventually he's left to himself, and he makes his way to his old lab. He should be more excited, he thinks. He finds his keycard, honestly a little surprised when it works.
Inside, the lab is unofficially split down the middle: one side is cluttered with Hiro's equipment and partly finished projects, and Tadashi spots several half-empty soft drinks and crumpled snack bags. He doesn't begrudge Hiro his presence here: in fact, he's proud of his younger brother for managing to deem himself worthy of the space so quickly. If it had to go to someone, Tadashi is glad it's his own brother.
He turns his attention to the other side. Hiro's done a surprisingly good job of clearing it out - only the university-owned furniture is still present, stark and empty. That, and the two cardboard boxes from the morning.
Where does he even start? It feels overwhelming to figure out how to fill the space again, even though it's been halved. There are the practical aspects: unpacking, organizing, filling out requests for technology and equipment...but he can't really do much of that until he knows what he's supposed to work on. He pulls open the first box, not entirely sure how to deal with the conglomeration of things inside. What is he doing here? His major-qualifying project is on hold - his entire major might be on hold. Indefinitely. Forever. What's he supposed to do if he doesn't...
Stop, Tadashi interrupts himself, resting his hands on the box as he takes a deep breath. He knows following this train of thought isn't going to be helpful. Just unpack. One thing at a time.
Cass is not stupid.
Sure, she might not pick up on every single little thing right away, but that might have something to do with the fact that she's running and managing a café full-time, acting as caregiver to a still recovering college student, AND trying to keep tabs on a highly active fifteen year-old genius.
But it wouldn't take a genius to notice that her older nephew is back on some kind of emotional rollercoaster, calm and upbeat one moment and withdrawn and on edge another. She'd hoped returning to school would be comfortingly familiar, a nice boost to his confidence - but apparently it's been the opposite. Great.
She notes similar ups and downs in Hiro too - but if he's on a metaphorical carnival ride, it must be a relatively tame one. It makes sense: he's dealing with Tadashi's situation, spending his days with people years older than him, and for cripe's sake - he's fifteen. She's actually surprised that adolescence hasn't involved any yelling yet. Cass is optimistic that if she provides Hiro with enough free time, hugs, and chicken wings, she might even get by without having any doors slammed in her face.
She's less sure about Tadashi though.
She tags along to his next appointment, a check-up with the general doctor. Even in the clinic waiting room he seems unnerved: it takes him forever to fill out the electronic forms, and he repeatedly shifts in his chair, pulling down the sleeves of his cardigan until they nearly cover his hands. He's left his compressions off in case the doctor decides to do an exam, and seems to be regretting that choice. It's not something that concerns him at the burn clinic, but here there are several other very non-burned people in the waiting room. Cass catches a few stolen glances, a few more avoidant looks. Directly across from them a preschooler with her hair pulled into two curly puffs is kneeling on a chair, whispering somewhat loudly to her mother but Mama, what happened to his legs?
Cass looks to Tadashi, who has his feet shoved as far as possible under his waiting room chair, then back to the little girl, who's already being nervously shushed by her mom. The kid is so darn cute that Cass can't help giving her a big smile. "It's okay. You can ask him," she volunteers.
This catches her nephew off guard: Tadashi gives her a questioning glance as he looks up from the clinic tablet, but then he shifts to make eye contact with the child, offering a somewhat forced smile. The little girl takes this as an invitation to cross the room, though she lingers a few chairs away. "Is that a lot of owies?" she finally asks, pointing at the still red grafts and scars on his legs.
"Yeah." Tadashi nods, and it's Cass's turn to be surprised when he pushes up both his sleeves, holding out his arms for inspection. "I have a lot of them. I got hurt in a fire, but I'm doing better now. "
The child sidles a little closer, hands resting on a table littered with outdated magazines. "Does it hurt?"
"Not all the time," Tadashi responds, more at ease. Cass can see his posture relax as he continues to listen to her questions, keeping his answers simple as he tells her that yes, he had to go to the hospital, but most of the people there were nice and they let him eat a lot of ice cream. No, they didn't have bubblegum flavor. No, they didn't give him any stickers either.
The child's name is suddenly called, and her mom stands, holding out a hand to the little girl. "Thank you," she says a little awkwardly, balancing a toddler on her hip as she attempts to retrieve her daughter. "She doesn't really have a filter."
"That's okay," Tadashi responds, apparently less sure of how to respond to an adult than a child. He's already scooting further back into his chair as he returns his attention to the clinic tablet.
"My gosh, she was adorable!" Cass comments, watching the child almost skip through the door to the exam rooms, pigtails bouncing. "You did a nice job answering her questions."
"Kids ask better questions than everyone else," he responds evenly. He holds up a paper square, something shiny and colorful stuck to one side. "She's right though, I should have gotten a ton of these."
Tadashi looks back down at the tablet in front of him, wondering if he's ever going to finish all the forms. He wiggles his arm a little, wondering if it's been long enough to pull off the bandage from the lab work. The tape keeps pulling and he doesn't like it. It doesn't help that he's itchier than usual without his compression garments on: itchy and over-exposed and cold.
He tries to ignore it all and flicks to the next form. In the past two weeks, how often have you experienced…
Little interest or pleasure in doing things?
Feeling down, depressed, or hopeless?
The questions continue, but they're not hard to answer. He can't answer not at all to every question, but he doesn't answer nearly every day to any of them either. The form doesn't calculate his score for him, and he wouldn't know a concerning one anyway, but he's feeling pretty good about this one.
The next one is harder. The format is the same, but several of the questions seem like they've been handpicked for him. How often has he felt nervous, anxious, or on edge? Annoyed or irritable? It's a struggle to decide which answer is most accurate, especially when his mind is warning him that if he ticks nearly every day for too many it's going to be some kind of red flag.
Be honest, he tells himself. It's situational. His mind spins sometimes, but it has reasons to. He doesn't panic at random. Maybe he should ask his physical therapist to help him figure out how to run better. Find some other outlet to clear his head out. Meditate.
"I really think we should adjust your medication," the doctor says, pointing out that she can try increasing his anti-depressant. He's on the lowest possible dose - a dose that would normally be higher for anxiety. "Think about it. You're using some good coping strategies, that's great, but it's okay to go up on the medication. Your counselor thought it might be helpful too."
He tries to think of more excuses, more alternatives, but before he can say anything the doctor meets his eyes. "We could try it and see how it's going in a month. How would you feel about that?"
Hiro walks into the lab, dropping his backpack onto Tadashi's chair. His brother has been spending more time here, but he still doesn't come to campus unless he has class. Tadashi's side of the space is still relatively bare aside from a single notebook and some textbooks piled up near the computer. Hiro glances at his brother's notes - he can tell they're recent because the handwriting is uneven and several letters spill over the college-ruled lines. Apparently Tadashi is brain-storming ideas for upgrades to Baymax's care matrix: patient confidentiality is highlighted pretty heavily.
Before he crosses to his own side of the lab, a flash of bright pink catches his eye. He bends to look at the neon sticky note clinging to the bottom of his brother's computer monitor, expecting some kind of reminder about registration or a project deadline. Instead he finds a sticker of a cartoon pig proclaiming Star Patient! He almost laughs at the absurdity, wondering why Tadashi's put it there, but then he realizes there's a note below it. It's written in small, neat print he doesn't recognize. Don't be afraid to start over. You might like your new story better.
He prickles at the words, wanting to argue against them. He doesn't like this story better.
Doesn't that depend on where the old story ends? a voice in his head asks. How far would he have to rewind to change things? What if he pulled Tadashi away from the fire? What if they left campus earlier? What if he never participated in the expo at all?
No matter where Hiro cuts the narrative off, he loses something. Baymax. His friends. Forming Big Hero 6. Attending SFIT. Tadashi.
At least in this version he has it all.
He also has a disaster to deal with, apparently - he's at home tinkering with the ruined electronics of the test helmet when his phone blows up with calls and messages about a break-in situation at Krei Tech. "We're gonna need you for this one," Wasabi tells him, and Hiro can hear him pulling a car door closed before he hangs up. He feels a thrill - he loves this stuff. He's good at this. Someone needs to help and he actually knows what to do - and he finally has his brother's blessing to get involved.
Hiro's still trying to get a full grasp on what's happening as he rounds up Baymax and updates the team about his ETA. He's about to rush down the stairs when he makes a detour to the side of Tadashi's bed. His brother is out cold, the comforter pulled up around his shoulders as he sleeps on his side. "Tadashi," Hiro hisses in a whisper, nudging Tadashi's arm a little. He doesn't rouse - he doesn't even protest and shift further away. Hiro considers speaking louder and actually shaking him awake, but he knows Tadashi gets his best sleep the first half of the night.
They've never talked through what to do in this situation. Hiro decides it's probably better to ask forgiveness than permission, and leaves a note near Tadashi's phone, making sure to point out that he did attempt to wake him up before leaving. If all goes well, he'll be back before his brother even wakes up.
"Baymax, rocket fist!" Hiro yells, directing the robot's attention to a security bot barreling in their direction. Said fist slams into the hostile, crushing it into the opposite wall where it leaves an unsightly crack. Krei isn't going to be thrilled about that. Whatever. It's the businessman's own stupid fault for implementing a completely hackable security system. Hiro doesn't even want to think about what the actual intruders might be up to at the moment.
Much to Hiro's frustration, the bot isn't completely disabled. It's attempting to recover even as Honey Lemon launches a chem ball at it. Her aim isn't perfect, but the resulting greenish goo still manages to partially cover the robotic sentry, slowing it down.
The problem is, there are a half a dozen others all trying to apprehend them, and more on the way. Nothing is coming at Hiro for the moment, and he slips off Baymax's back, using the robot as a shield as he turns his attention to one of Krei's computers. He's just barely started working when Baymax shoves him to the floor, forcing him out of the path of a taser beam. He rolls, putting himself in position to work with Baymax again as they cooperate to subdue a second bot. He lets out a snarl of frustration. "There are too many! I can't shut anything down!"
"We'll cover you!" GoGo yells, but she's already dividing her attention between two more security bots. She curses as one manages to catch the mag disc she's launched at it, taking it into possession. "I'm down a disc!"
"I've got you!" Wasabi rushes the bot, lasers positioned over his head like a shield. He slices into it repeatedly, until GoGo's disc clatters to the floor. He kicks it towards her, distracted as a volley of taser beams focus on him. "Have I mentioned before how much I hate this? Because I do. A lot. Hiro, any progress?"
"Little busy right now," Hiro manages to respond from where he's now trapped between Baymax and the wall.
"I don't think they're going to stop until you shut them down, Hiro," Honey Lemon yells. She throws another chem ball, but the bot she's targeting moves out of the way too quickly, forcing her to repeat her attack. "I'm starting to run short, you guys."
"Every time I get a little further, they target me!" Hiro yells in frustration. "I can't shut them down and fight them at the same time!" He brings Baymax's attention to another sentry, directing the robot to pin it to the ground. "Fred, is that something Heathcliff can do? Shut them down? If I patch him in?"
Fred laughs wholeheartedly even as he engulfs a bot in continuous flames, leaving irregular scorch marks on Krei's polished floor. "Heathcliff? He doesn't even like email. When I was a kid, he…" Fred suddenly stops talking - and igniting. He stares at Hiro. "Sweet Mother of Megazon - I think this is the catalyst. You need to call Tadashi."
What? Call Tadashi?
"He's asleep," Hiro responds, hearing the uncertainty in his own voice. It seems like a lot to ask. Tadashi needs to sleep. He might flip out. It might remind him why he was so against Hiro being a superhero. Maybe it's better to keep him in a bubble…
But at the same time, Tadashi might know what to do. It could work.
"Please, Hiro!" Honey Lemon interrupts Hiro's analysis, hands clutching her chem purse. "I don't know how much longer we can do this."
"Do it!" GoGo flings another disc, just as security alarms start blaring. "Worst case scenario he says no."
A/N: Keeping my fingers crossed that I get the next chapter done before you all forget what's happening!