.

The Essential Laws of Human Robotics

Part Six

.

Hiro

"Abigail. Abigail. Stop pacing," Hiro grumbles, leaning back in his chair. Abigail ignores him, striding slowly up and down the steel catwalk, one hand lingering on the rail for support. Even after all this time, she sometimes needs the extra stability when she's been on her feet for so long. "Seriously. You're making me anxious. You're making Baymax anxious. Right, big guy?"

Baymax's head swivels to face Hiro. The robot currently sits in the docking station Hiro modified for him, one that plays nicely with the power circuits here in Abigail's lab. "I am a robot," he states, "and—"

Abigail and Hiro chime in: "—cannot experience anxiety, as that would undermine your ability to provide clinical advice."

"We know, we know," Hiro adds with a yawn, rolling his stiff shoulders. "It was just to get her to stop. You should back me up sometime."

"You should both stop," Baymax retorts.

"I'm not pacing," Hiro replies, waving his arms in a floppy, here-I-sit sort of gesture.

"You should both stop waiting for the information upload," Baymax clarifies. "I can monitor the data myself, and both of your stress levels are elevated. In addition, rest will allow your body to heal from the events of tonight, Hiro."

"Yeah, I know," Hiro agrees tiredly, thinking of the others, all of them passed out in blissful slumber in the downstairs waiting area. A couple months ago, Fred had convinced Abigail to forego the traditional stiff plastic chairs in favor of a modern-looking sofa and a few long, ottoman-like chairs. It had been a running joke that the seats had to be soft enough for Abigail to sleep on, married to her work as she is. At any rate, the new purchases had come in handy tonight, when the others have all but collapsed onto the soft furniture, trusting Abigail to wake them after the data transfer.

As the unspoken liaison between Big Hero 6 and Abigail, who's become something like an unofficial seventh member slash coordinator, Hiro feels like he should be awake for this part, if only because it doesn't seem fair for Abigail to stay up to do this on her own.

"It's fine. I wouldn't be sleeping anyway," Abigail says quietly, looking out over the expanse of her lab.

The Silent Sparrow labs have changed dramatically since her reappearance just under a year ago, since she purchased the abandoned land with the windfall from her court case. In that time, a network of bridges and highways have sprung up to connect the outlying islands of San Fransokyo bay, including this one. Now, it's home to a few apartment complexes, a medical school and hospice. And to Abigail's lab.

The bones of the building are the same, though: an open-air, warehouse-style lab with an observation platform where the three of them now sit, a gable-roof skylight stretching across the ceiling high overhead, now showing the inky black sky. Rows of offices and interior rooms are to the back.

But instead of the raised portal into which Abigail had once vanished, the lab floor is practically a playground. The structure houses a raised area with patches of dirt, sand dunes, grassy fields, and sloping cement, all surrounded by a series of treadmills and a hatch in the floor that opens to a small, three-foot-deep pool. All of this Abigail built to play with her newest projects, now sitting motionless against one wall of the room: robotic exoskeletons. In truth, they look almost like a pair of robotic pants to sit someone in. Their design is a fusing of Abigail's vision and schematics with a touch of Hiro's help, and they work. Walking around in them, Abigail gets her daily dose of physical therapy, and the sensors track her gait and posture with real-time feedback. It's not ready for beta testing yet, or at least Abigail's too anxious about perfecting it, but they've come a long way from where they were.

Truth be told, this is way more space than Abigail needs for her work, but it's nice to have. Hiro knows she likes having it, likes setting off on her own without being under the thumb of a major organization. But sometimes, like now, she spends time staring out onto the wide open floor, and Hiro wonders if she's imagining the way the building used to look, the buildings and machines that once belonged there when everything was under Krei's thumb.

He leaves her to it. Hiro swivels in his chair, scooting closer to the monitor. Baymax perks up a bit at his approach, but his eyes are sleepy, half-closed. "Getting closer," Hiro murmurs, looking at the progress bar. "Let's see what else…"

Hiro knows these labs like the back of his hand, and a quarter of the information on this computer is his own work, or at least something he and Abigail have worked on together: plans to streamline the design of the therapy robotics, the designs for the app and feedback process, side work with the flexible cast Hiro and Gogo had created, prototype sketches for a wearable waistband that automatically corrects back posture.

The files definitely have a running theme, a clear direction for their ideas. Hiro hesitates on the last file, though. One of these things is not like the others. The window slides open, filling in with an elemental breakdown, a chart with more questions than answers.

The samples Abigail had brought back with her from within the portal are housed in an airtight, shatterproof container in the storage room, but everything they know about them is right here. Neither of them knows what to do with the information, the strange radioactive material that glows sporadically and seems to change positions when they aren't looking.

"Is it finished?" Abigail asks suddenly. His chair settles backward as she leans her weight against the top of it.

"Not yet—oh, wait," Hiro replies, closing the window. The status bar hovers at the top of the screen, completely filled. "Let's take a look…"

She spends a few moments staring at the screen, eyes darting around furiously, and Hiro moves his chair so she can pull one closer and drop into it. He knows all of this himself, having lived the whole thing. And it's Abigail's opinion that matters most now.

If you didn't know her, you'd maybe think her quieter, weaker than she used to be. But Abigail has a way of getting her voice heard. When asked, she's always said, wryly, that it helps that she's friends with lots of lawyers these days. But Hiro thinks it's more than that. Something about her, whether it's new since the accident or something that's always been there, doesn't take no for an answer.

When she finishes reading, Abigail gives a low whistle. "This is insane. Maybe certifiable." She begins separating the important bits, categorizing them in a more digestible way for the team of lawyers that will no doubt rip Krei a new one come break of day. "I might not have believed it if it hadn't been for all the proof. Not knowing what Alistair used to be like...he's fallen far from when I knew him."

There's something sad in Abigail's tone, though her gestures are steady as she files everything into place. She falls silent, and Hiro lets her go to that distant place again. For a time, he dozes in his seat, his limbs throbbing with bruises and his thoughts hazy.

"Go to sleep," Abigail tells him eventually. "You honestly look terrible."

"Gee, thanks," he says, stretching his arms overhead. They feel a bit wobbly, and he pulls them back down.

"And...maybe think about taking on some less serious work for a while," Abigail continues after a beat. "You guys could use the downtime. And time to think about what's coming up."

Hiro yawns, looking over at her. "What's coming up?"

"All the school stuff," she says, shrugging. Hiro and Gogo, in the time spent moping around the lab, have complained a little about their irritation with the others, their silent fight about being left out of future plans.

"It's all sorted out now," Hiro replies sleepily. "Or—kind of, anyway."

Abigail nods. "I'm sorry, by the way. About sending you to Krei in the first place. I know you guys didn't take it that way, but it's my fault you got into all this."

"No, it wasn't. You didn't know. And if we had to do it all again knowing what was up, we probably would."

"Yeah," she says. "Still sorry about it, though. And about Krei."

Hiro feels limp in his chair, but he rolls his head to look at her. "You really...you were worried about him."

Abigail doesn't respond right away. She stares at the screen, her eyes glinting blue in the light. "Yes. I know it probably doesn't make sense. He's an asshole. I know he is. Even before I knew he was pulling crap like...this," she adds, waving her hands at the readouts, "I knew that much. And now I know he's...worse."

"But you're worried."

"Not enough to not set a crack team of lawyers on him," Abigail replies, a wry twist to her mouth. "Not enough to let him off easy for this." Hiro remains quiet, half because he means to let her think, and half because he doesn't have the energy to think of what else to say to her. "But yeah, I worry. We were friends once. Or something. I guess that doesn't mean anything to him now, but it still means something to me. But at a certain point, I think you just...let people make their own decisions. And you hope they make the right ones."

Hiro rubs gingerly at his sore eye. He exhales slowly. "Yeah," he says. "Sounds about right to me."

"Go to sleep, Hiro," Abigail says, shoving his shoulder gently. It gives a painful twinge of protest, which wakes him up.

"Going, going." He clambers to his feet. "Ready, Baymax?"

"I am ready."

Hiro turns back, ready to say something to Abigail, but she's already lost in thought, eyes wandering around the screen, and he takes the stairs down to the lower floor instead.

The others are grumpy (Gogo and Wasabi) or sluggish (Fred and Honey Lemon) when they wake, but Hiro and Baymax manage to coerce them into Wasabi's car, grumbling and slow. They cram their armor and gear into the back as best they can, and Wasabi takes the wheel without discussion. Everyone else slides into their seats, falling asleep almost instantly in the most awkward positions, Gogo pressed against the front passenger window and Honey Lemon with her feet stretched across the storage console. Hiro, curled in the backseat with Fred drooling against his shoulder, feels terribly awake. He stares out at the darkened buildings of Setsuzoku rushing past, and he cracks the window to feel the cool night air on his face.

Strange how much it feels like a normal night. Like they're just going home after a typical patrol, or after a late evening goofing off at Fred's place, all of them ready to finally get into their beds. Looking out at the slope of the city below as they approach, at the distant golden streets winding together, he can almost pretend that this is normal. That nothing that happened tonight matters. Krei and his stupid, totally insane schemes.

Wasabi and Fred and Honey Lemon leaving.

"I am...curious. About something from earlier tonight," Baymax announces from his position above the sunroof. Wasabi drives slowly enough, especially now that they're coasting downhill, that the wind doesn't rush over the robot's words, and Hiro can hear him as plainly as if he were sitting beside him.

"What's up?"

"Krei's robots were remarkably humanoid in processing and in behavior."

Hiro waits for the rest. Nothing else comes. "Yeah?"

"It appears that there might be significant advantages to such a situation, were it not for the obvious moral implications of creating such an artificial intelligence."

"Well...I dunno," Hiro replies slowly. "Maybe." Baymax is again quiet, and Hiro realizes what the robot might be trying to ask. "What? No. Are you wondering if you could…?"

"Barring the need to sacrifice a human consciousness," Baymax says.

Hiro opens and closes his mouth, unsure where to start. "Do you want to be more like them?"

"Not particularly," the robot hums. "If there were a better method, one in which the AI would more accurately emulate human thought, I would perhaps be more capable."

"You're plenty capable."

"I continue to have a difficult time understanding a significant portion of human behavior, though I will admit that my database has come a long way from when you and I first met. I did not understand why you and Gogo were behaving the way you were. Perhaps I should have known."

Guilt settles into the pit of Hiro's stomach. While Abigail had known the source of their troubles, Hiro and Gogo had decided not to tell Baymax for a pretty tactical reason: the robot is incapable of keeping a secret or lying to save his life. "That's not fair, though. I didn't tell you, neither of us did. And—and no one expects you, or people in general, to be a mind-reader." Hiro rolls the window down a bit more, cautiously jostling Fred a bit to lean outside, armpit against the car interior. "That's just our fault, big guy. I'm sorry you thought it was on you. But...you're great the way you are. Seriously. I trust you more than just about anyone I know, maybe even more than me. I mean, think about what we've seen with Krei, and Fujita, and all of us tonight. Humans are stupid, and messy, and…"

"Those are all things I enjoy about you," Baymax replies. Hiro smiles.

"That's why you guys are such good bros," Fred murmurs sleepily.

"This conversation is sickeningly adorable," Gogo adds from the front seat, "but couldn't you have waited till you were home so the rest of us could sleep?"

Hiro kicks the back of her seat.

"For the record," Honey Lemon says, "we really are sorry."

"You better be," Gogo retorts, turning in her seat to face them.

"We'll work out a patrol calendar," Wasabi says suddenly from the front. "Everyone puts their schedules online so we can sync 'em, figure out when we're all on break to visit or whatever, and then we do patrols." He looks up at Hiro through the rearview mirror, eyebrows raised. "The two of you and Baymax do small stuff while we're out. Swear to God I'm keeping tabs with Abigail from now on...so nothing crazy. Anything big, you call us up and we take care of it together."

"You guys'll still do patrols?"

"Did you think we were gonna leave you guys to have all the fun?" Honey Lemon asks, smiling.

Gogo frowns. "I guess...it just seems like you guys are going so far. I didn't think—"

"And it's not like it's forever."

"You say that now, but—"

"For me," Wasabi says, "just one year until I can do the low-residency program and be here in town most of the time, except a couple two-week stints at St. Kakichi's. Honey Lemon, your thing is two years, and Fred, yours is—a year?"

"Plus holidays. East Fujian has like two billion weeklong festivals, so I'll be back in town a bunch to visit."

"It won't be so bad," Honey Lemon says plaintively.

Gogo glances at Hiro, and then turns back to face the front. "Yeah, we'll see."

They all grow quiet, but Hiro thinks it's not as tense a silence as before. Gogo doesn't speak again, but she's not throwing off the I'm-gonna-kill-you-slowly vibe that usually comes when she's really angry.

Eventually, the car rattles to stop in front of the Lucky Cat Cafe. The windows are dark. The only sound as Hiro slides out of the door is the quiet hum of the engine and murmured goodnights from the others, whoever's still awake. Baymax gingerly slips onto the ground as Hiro pulls their armor from the trunk, wobbling a little under the weight of Baymax's until the robot waddles over to hoist it up.

Hiro fishes the key out of his pocket to open the door. The harsh white of the streetlight outside spills across the entrance, and Hiro shushes his companion as they step across the empty floor. Baymax manages to only knock into two of the tables with his girth, and they clamber up the stairs.

"Hiro? Is that you?"

Blue light from Aunt Cass's room suggests that her TV is on—but at this hour? Hiro hurriedly shoves his armor into Baymax's arms, pushing the robot in the direction of his room in the hopes that he'll understand his intentions. "Yeah, Aunt Cass."

He creeps forward, keenly aware of how sore he feels, how terrible his face must look, and how his clothes still smell of smoke.

Aunt Cass is pulling on her robe when he steps onto the threshold of her room. The television volume is low, a news anchor talking with someone in front of a fire truck. "You—Hiro, you—"

"Sorry," he says at once. "I was out with Gogo. Um, bot fighting." It's not something he'd normally admit to, but given what he's actually been up to, it seems like the better option. The only thing his listless mind can come up with now.

"I thought you were going to stop that," she says, approaching cautiously, as if he might run away. She lifts a hand to brush some hair from his forehead.

"Yeah, it wasn't—I mean, I didn't have any entries in the contest, but Gogo and I just got caught up in a fight when stuff started to go south. The others were there, too."

Aunt Cass looks at him for a long moment. "That's not where you really were, is it?" she asks. Hiro, too surprised to react, remains silent. She sighs, and then she pulls him closer. "Lots of fires lately," she murmurs softly, hugging him. "I lost Tadashi in a fire once. Don't let me lose you, too."

"Okay," he says hoarsely after a beat.

She squeezes his shoulders and lets him go. "Go to sleep. You look like you need it. We'll talk in the morning."

Hiro steps back into the hall, still uncertain. He turns back to face her. "I'm...sorry?"

"It's alright," she says with a smile, the soft one she uses sometimes when she talks about Hiro's mom, or about Tadashi. "We'll talk in the morning. You're going to apologize to me more then."

"Oh. Okay."

It's not until he reaches his room, tiredly pulling off his clothes to change into something that smells less like smoke, that he realizes that Aunt Cass knows. She must know everything, about Big Hero 6 and what they're doing. What Hiro does, all those times when he lies to her about where he's been.

"You seem troubled," Baymax tells him sleepily from his charging port.

Hiro shushes him, closing the door. "Volume level lower, bud. And yeah, I'm...it's...I think Aunt Cass knows what we're doing."

Baymax stares at him blankly as Hiro stares at the closed door. "What you are doing?"

"Big Hero 6. Fighting, and patrols and all that. She knows why I've been lying to her. Or that I've been lying at all."

"I believe she has known for quite some time."

Hiro, who had been getting into bed, whips his head around. "Wait, what?"

"I am certain that she has seen your armor on several occasions. She cleans the house, and your hiding places are fairly poor."

Hiro groans. "Thanks for telling me this now, bud."

"You are welcome."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I imagined that if your aunt did not confront you, she must not want you to know. I calculated the risk of causing emotional harm to be higher if I told one or both of you, and so I kept silent."

"To be nice. You kept quiet." Hiro considers this. "That's...pretty cool of you, actually. A decision like that. With the kinds of things you've learned, maybe you're getting the right kinds of human parts. Like actual tact."

Baymax hums warmly. "Maybe," he says, closing his eyes. Hiro rolls over in bed, pulling the blankets up to his chest.

For about five minutes, he dozes off, and then his phone buzzes with an incoming text. He grunts, pulling it closer and swiping through the password, reading the screen blearily.

ok, Gogo says. can we pretend to be mad at them for like two more days and then we can forgive them

Hiro smiles, pulling his pillow overhead, and types out a response: sounds good

think it'll be ok for real? like they said

He pauses, frowning. In truth, their future seems hazy. Intangible. Wasabi and the others are moving on, actually leaving. And there's no way to pretend things can stay the same as they are now. At this late hour, it's too hard for Hiro to even imagine what things will look like. He's not sure he wants to, either, because despite all of their reassurances, Hiro's chest twinges when he considers the uncertainty of what's to come.

Maybe they're done. Maybe Big Hero 6 is done. Maybe, despite what Wasabi and the others have promised, they're all going their separate ways after graduation, chasing after futures that are wholly their own.

But tonight, aching and sore from battles fought alongside his teammates, Hiro doesn't think so.

we'll make it ok

Gogo doesn't respond, or if she does, Hiro's too far gone to sense the vibration. Sleep takes him like a sneak attack.

He wakes in the morning with the phone pressed onto his forearm, a red line from the edge of it across his skin. The smell of baking pastries fills the air, and light chatter from downstairs tells him that the cafe is already open.

When he pulls himself upright, he can see Wasabi's car parked across the street. The raucous laughter from below is Fred's. After a moment, Hiro rubs the sleep from his eyes and goes down to meet them.

.

.

.

A/N: Woo, it's finally finished! And spoiler: they all keep in touch and are still friends even in the future, regardless of shenanigans like the ones in this story. Pretty sure that's just how it's meant to be.

Anyway...I think I have one more story from this universe in me? If and when I have time to write it. Those weird samples they picked up have been bugging me since I mentioned them in the last story. And something to do with Tadashi. We'll see how things go :) Leave me a review and let me know what you thought!

Till next time,

~ket