Chapter 3 (Karmi's POV)

"Wait, Dr. Hamada! You can't go now the mutations are in their final stages of maturation!"

"I have to go! I'm sorry, but you can handle it without me, just record everything!"

"But Dr. Hamada-"

Whatever my lab assistant was going to say was drowned out by the sound of the door slamming shut behind me. My pulse was racing with something between fear and anger. The news was awash with whatever was going on at the art museum. None of which looked like the work of a small-time villain looking to steal a few expensive bobbles. I never got entirely used to Hiro putting himself in so much danger, but this also wasn't my first time facing a crisis.

So why did I have such a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach?

That was the only question ringing inside my head as I slammed the first-floor button from inside the elevator.

That question and the only other one that ever mattered…

Was Hiro okay this time?

I knew they had their hands full, but I still kept checking my texts, hoping for something.

Anything.

But I knew better than to wait for him to contact me, I had to see for myself. When I hit the sidewalk I took off at a run. The museum was on the other side of town, but the plume of smoke was visible from anywhere in San Fransokyo. In fact, it was all anyone seemed to be staring up at. I was the only one that seemed intent on racing in the direction of the disaster though. I already guessed what Hiro would have to say about me putting myself in danger, but I thought he didn't have much room to talk!

My lungs were burning by the time the police barrier around the perimeter came into view. A few curious and likely stupid people were standing just like me, trying to get a better view of what was happening. Between the wail of police and fire department sirens, you could hardly hear yourself think. But somehow I managed to worry through the noise. After what felt like an eternity I saw Honey Lemon and Wasabi burst through the front doors of the museum, followed by Fred and Gogo.

They seemed to be leaving, did that mean the situation was under control? It didn't look all that under control. Or at least it didn't look like things had gone how they'd wanted. And where was Hiro and Baymax?

I bit my lip, eyes locked on the front door. Seconds seemed to crawl as a million worst-case scenarios raced through my mind. I tried to dismiss all of them logically, but it was doing a fat lot of good for the emotions I felt racing through my veins. Then, finally he all but stumbled from the door, his right hand cradled in front of him, pain evident on his face with every winch. Without a glance at the police or the crowd, he mounted Baymax and took off into the sky.

Breaking away from the crowd, I stared up, hoping somehow he'd notice me. As if he could read my mind, he finally glanced down. For a split second, our eyes met. Behind those brown eyes of his were clearly a thousand things he wanted to say, even some sense of comfort and relief to see me at all. But like we always had to do, he just turned his head away, as if he had only glanced at a stranger.

I knew why he had to, but sometimes, it felt cold as if the past was replaying all over again. As if that circle were still just as closed…

Time went by, but the text finally came that night. It led me to the hospital, where I found him crumpled in an ER waiting room chair. The smile on his face was trying to hide the obvious pain he was in. He still smelled of smoke from the fire, and just the sight of him tugged on my heart in ways I could never describe. Everyone else was with him, but there was something on his face that almost looked isolated. As if his thoughts and worries were threatening to form a barrier not even his friends could cross. I knew then, that something was serious. About this crime, about everything.

So I sat in the chair beside him, wordlessly holding the hand that wasn't swollen and red. The hours drug on until he was finally treated for what turned out to be a moderate to severe sprain. I thought it was a miracle it wasn't broken given how bad it looked. I still haven't been given the whole story, just whispered bits and pieces while we made sure no one else was listening.

Once his hand was wrapped in a brace and the pain was under control he looked a bit better, but the dark circles were still so obvious. He was exhausted. He'd called an emergency meeting at HQ, but I'd forbade him from doing anything before he got a night's sleep. Or at least what was left of the night…

It was close to noon when he finally stumbled out of our bedroom, the sleep doing little for the tired look still hanging on his face.

When he plopped down in the chair across from me, I poured him a cup of lukewarm coffee and pushed it toward him. He took a sip, neither of us saying a word for what felt like forever.

"Why'd you come…?" he mumbled finally. "Your experiment…you needed to be there last night."

I glared at him, my temper flaring. "It was just a stupid virus, you're a little more important, Hiro!"

I expected him to follow me into the argument I was baiting, but instead, his face softened as if my words had taken him by surprise. "Really…?"

I sighed, my shoulders slumping. "Seriously? You have to ask that…? You must be an idiot, after all…"

He leaned his head on the kitchen table, giving into the depression lingering around him. "I don't know, probably…"

I reached to touch his cheek softly. "Hiro… Please, tell me, what's wrong? What happened?"

He sighed, sitting up slowly. "You heard most of it already. A new villain goes into the museum and torches exactly three paintings. The three paintings were specifically targeted, but nothing was stolen. Not even a tacky coffee mug from the gift shop…"

"Okay, so it's a mystery, but we'll figure it out. There's no reason to be-"

"I felt useless," he cut in. "We all were useless. But that's not the worst part… No, it was that feeling I got when she looked at me. I thought I was…reliving something, something I can't even remember…" He shook his head. "I don't know, it just shook me, I don't know why, Karmi…"

"Getting hurt probably shook you up," I added, softly holding his well hand. "You shouldn't overthink it. You're not useless, and I don't want you to talk like that anymore. You're a hero, you do more than anyone else does. More than anyone else can…"

I felt his spirits lift just slightly, the faintest smile coming to his lips. "You're still that impressed by Captain Cutie, even after all this time…?" he teased.

"No," I said without hesitating. "But Hiro Hamada can be pretty amazing sometimes…"

"Just sometimes…" he mumbled playfully.

I smiled back at him. "Don't push your luck, Nerdboy."

Before either of us could say anything more, we heard a text chime on his phone. It was Gogo, asking how it was doing, and mentioning they were going to meet up at the HQ later. We did need to talk about what happened, so we headed out with Baymax as soon as we could pull ourselves together.

The mood was a little tense at the meeting. Not so much because anyone was upset, but just… I thought Hiro getting hurt had reminded them too much of what was at stake each time they tried to save the day. I didn't need any reminders, I got the picture from the day I figured out who Hiro really was. It meant someone you loved could never come home. I hadn't figured out a way to come to terms with that yet, I assumed I never would.

But Fred was never remiss with his duty to be the comic relief. Both a good and bad thing.

"Look," he started to say, breaking the awkward silence around our conference table. "We're way too early into this plotline to have the mid-arc self-doubt slump."

Hiro rolled his eyes playfully. "Sorry, nobody gave me an advance reading of the script."

"Then let me help get things back on track," he added with a dramatic pause. "What we need is a looming clue that gets tossed into a later episode, while we in the meantime have more quality character-building time."

"I think he means we should focus on what was stolen at the museum," Gogo interjected hesitantly. "Either that or he's just officially lost it…"

Fred nodded, but I wasn't sure if he was reaffirming his point about the plot, or if he was just agreeing that he was crazy.

"The paintings are the strangest part of this whole thing," Wasabi agreed. "What criminal doesn't steal anything?"

"It's a classic ploy," Fred said before pointing to Honey Lemon. "Cue our resident art expert."

Honey Lemon was never the person to look at the glass as half empty, but I could tell the thought of art being destroyed really bothered her. She frowned thoughtfully, before speaking up.

"We have to consider the possibility that the crime was meant to send a message of some sort. Lots of villains like to foreshadow their next crime in some way. It's all speculation at this point, but we need to consider this from every angle. What do the three paintings that were destroyed have in common?"

"I assume the same artist would be way too simple, right?" I asked as an afterthought.

She nodded. "Yes, all three artists were different. In fact, none of them even lived during the same period."

"Okay, what about the subject theme?" Gogo interjected. "Or even painting technique?"

"Or the composition of the material used?" I added.

"There could be a meaning to the placement they had in the museum itself," Wasabi said, thinking out loud.

I noticed Hiro was strangely quiet during most of the discussion. Something dark and heavy was weighing on him. Something he didn't want to talk about just yet. If I was honest, I worried when he didn't tell me what he was thinking. It was worry that spanned more than the scope of the mission… It had everything to do with us.

"Those are all good suggestions," Honey Lemon agreed with a smile. "It gives us a lot to work on. I'll try to consider each of the possibilities and then get back to you all with my results." She glanced at Hiro. "In the meantime, you should get some rest, Hiro, you've been through a lot."

"Thanks, but I'm fine. If anything my ego is more crumpled than my hand." He sighed. "But I probably should go give Aunt Cass the rundown, she's worried after hearing about the museum I'd guess."

Fred smiled smugly. "Delayed plot point and more character building. So called it."

"Give me a break…" Gogo mumbled before heading toward the training room. I knew she thought best on her feet. And like the rest of us, the inaction made her a little frustrated.

I knew the feeling.

Because I couldn't shake the idea that more was at stake than a few paintings, something about this crime didn't feel routine. But I didn't know why…

When I looked at Hiro, the look on his face told me he must have been thinking the same thing…