san_fransokyo | Reintegration: Step 1 [Open to All (OU and AU welcome)]

Reintegration: Step 1 [Open to All (OU and AU welcome)]

A multitude of footsteps pass the pair of chairs set outside the administration office of the San Fransokyo Institute of Technology, but they move by at a further distance from the furniture than usual. The breadth is given to the unfamiliar figure occupying one of the chairs. Although unrecognized by those students passing her position, the young woman sitting in one of the chairs has been here at the school so many times she could navigate it without a map or signs. Probably even with her eyes closed.

Leaning forward, her slouched posture depends on support provided through her elbows resting against the tops of her thighs with forearms crossed and hands tucked. Fingers curled with an edge of nervousness into the hem of her button-up shirt hanging a good foot beneath the bottom of her sweater, her blue eyes remain downcast as students merely glance as they continue on the way to their next destination. She certainly doesn't look like she belongs among them despite her equivalent apparent age. The dark circles under her eyes are a little too deep, skin a little too tight from dehydration, and her clothes a little too dingy and wrinkled. Next to her chair sits a backpack, half empty through careful organization, and leaning into the corner of the wall by the chair rests a pair of loftstrand crutches.

Abigail Callaghan had only been released from the hospital a week ago today.

Since her release, her focus has been towards trying to put some semblance of a normal life back together, but there have been a multitude of obstacles. It's only expected after being legally dead for so many years, but even beyond that, she's been trying to go at it alone with little success.

For the moment, her focus is on waiting for the ending of a meeting held behind the closed door near where she sits with an empty chair beside her for company. She had come early, not wanting to miss her opportunity to achieve the primary goal that is beyond the need for sleep or food. Having called ahead a couple of days ago, the faculty member she had contacted had promised to do her best to search.

There has to be something left from her father to recover.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hiro hasn't slept in....twenty...thirty???? A lot of hours. He's basically running on guts and gummi bears, at this point, but there were things he needed to work on and then he remembered he had an exam in Programmable Controllers IV, and his grades are taking a near brush with certain death anyway so - important things.

He slinks out of the registrar's carrying his books, a folder of course scheduling paperwork and a slushy the size of his head - all stacked into or on top of a cardboard box full of microbots. These are brand new, not from the hoard Callaghan travels with; the university's understanding is that he's finally beginning work again on the project for which he was accepted in the first place, but that's Hiro's cover to test the things and figure out where they went wrong along with how he can fix them - preferably without doing any more harm to Callaghan himself.

And these are part of the reason he's not getting great sleep. Because he needs to work with them, but he hates them, can't watch them move or build on each other without getting squeamish in the pit of his stomach. They make him nervous; in the back of his mind, he's afraid they'll glitch and turn on him. Testing and re-testing is a joyless task, he takes frequent breaks or accidentally-on-purpose gets distracted only to come back to it, get frustrated and repeat the whole process again. And then maybe, he goes home and tries to sleep and ends up staring at the ceiling for a few hours running calculations in his head.

He's not expecting Abigail Callaghan to be sitting outside the administrative suite. In his shock, he trips. Everything goes in the floor, including him, and from this angle he can briefly lock eyes with her - and stare. He mouths words, but he's too stunned to get them out properly at first, and doesn't even have anything eloquent to say because it's not like he's planned for this eventuality. His tongue feels thick as cotton fuzz and about as clumsy.

"Abigail."

The sudden movement draws her distant gaze at the floor back to the present in a hurry as she recognizes the motion of a falling figure with the stack of items he had been carrying clattering down with him. The sound of metal pieces cascading across the floor is mixed with a startled squeal from her as that rather large sized slushy spills in a splash that washes over the fronts of her legs and into the top edges of her shoes. Chilly substance soaking right through her leggins and socks, she sits up straight in a hurry and tucks her feet deeper under the chair as her hands ball into fists reflexively.

At the very least, the slushy mix hitting her means it had not opened onto his books or paperwork, though a number of those loose microbots are going to require a thorough cleaning.

Abigail, despite the jolt caused by the cold rush against her legs, is far more concerned with the one that had tripped. As the young teenager stares, her blue eyes meet his in return fully alert. She lowers herself forward, bowing nearly in half against her lap, to scoop up the slushy before the whole cup has a chance to spill out on the floor and asks with concern, "Are you alright?"

Then, he says her name.

The look on his face is one of particular surprise that Abigail realizes is beyond simple recognition from the media sources. Especially considering she doesn't quite look like her old self right now, few have been able to key in on her identity until she gave her name. A little uncertain from the unknown connection to this student, she nevertheless manages to find a smile, hoping that by extending it she can put him more at ease, "That is my name... But I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I don't know yours."

"I-I..."

In robotics terms, he'd probably call this a critical error, because his brain momentarily stops supplying him with any kind of helpful feedback on how to respond. So he blurts out the first thing that manages to muscle its way through the confusion:

"I'm so sorry."

Which is not helpful, or an answer to the question, and only delays the inevitable. Biting his lip, he fumbles with the scattered microbots on the floor, trying to scoop them back up only to get distracted snatching the slushie back from her hands and mumbling another apology. He's never been good with people to start with, because when he gets involved with something (which is often) he tends to wall them out and ignore them; that he didn't morph into a complete shut-in during his very short high school years is a miracle he can only really blame Tadashi for. He understands machines better. People are harder.

"Hiro," he supplies after a second, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor. He picks microbots out of the slush puddle one at a time, dropping them back into the box, a steady tick, tick that lets him avoid looking at her. "Hiro Hamada. Sorry - about your -" Ugh, god. Not the time to go there. "- shoes. Sorry."

No doubt students at SFIT are consistently pushed hard, but the level of stress this particular student is under seems to be abnormally high. Given he doesn't look like he's had much rest as of late like herself, Abigail doesn't pay mind to the delay in answering her question. Holding up the slushy cup until he takes it from her, she does allow herself a moment to lift up each knee and give her lower limb a gentle shake to dislodge the flavored ice crystals still clinging to the fabric and her shoes.

Hands free, she bows fully forward again and starts to reach under the chair where she is seated to assist in gathering up the metal bits that had spilled all over. Snatching up the first one in a nimble motion, she answers the apology verbally, "Don't worry about it." She certainly isn't. Abigail had already planned to take the chance to stop by one of the school restrooms on her way out, and she can certainly spare the time to give her leggins a quick rinse in the sink to get out the sugar and some of the dye.

Gaze turned down under the seat when the teen states his name, her breath catches thick in her throat. Hand frozen in reaching towards another piece, she tilts her chin up to glance at him. She knows that name all too well from the stories and articles.

This is the brother that had survived her father's student that died in the showcase fire.

Speaking again after some delay in which she has to remind herself to allow her lungs to return to work, Abigail finishes her exhale as she takes up the next metallic link with a slower motion to pinch it up into her palm. Her hand isn't quite as steady as she reaches out to drop the number she had gathered into the open box. Voice much quieter and far more subdued, she glances at his face apprehensively, "...really, it's okay."

Averting her own gaze, she returns to picking up the unfamiliar tech. At the very least, she can save him from reaching under her to gather them.

A couple handfuls deposited back into the box in silence, Abigail finally really looks at what she's assisting in collecting. Studying the shapes with a tilt of her head, she quickly recognizes the underlying mechanism. Rather than let the silence hang and suffocate them both, she decides to ask what she hopes is a more neutral topic.

"...magnetic servos, right?"

Judging from her reaction, she must know. About Tadashi, about her father's involvement in the fire....maybe she doesn't know everything, but she knows enough to make this super awkward. He gladly seizes on the opportunity to talk about anything else but that, though, while he tries to figure out what to do - or at least, how to escape this situation as fast as possible.

He shouldn't want to run from her. This was going to happen eventually. It just....why now?

"...Yeah, yeah they are." Of course she knows about magnetic servos. Her dad invented them. But he'd rather not delve that far back into the history of the tech. "I got the idea from a fighting bot I made - I just took the parts and made them smaller. They're more versatile that way. They come together and they can make, well, anything."

It's weird, talking about them the way he would've talked about them months ago. Back before they became a danger. Back before they were a weapon. It almost feels like lying, or hiding the truth, not to come right out and say hey, these can kill people pretty good, in a lot of creative ways, and also screw with your brain!

That's also an uncomfortable subject. He grimaces, and finally dares to look up at her, trying his best to smile. "I didn't know they'd let you out of the hospital yet."

Edited 2015-02-20 23:43 (UTC)

Peering to Hiro when he answers, giving more information about the invention, Abigail presses her lips together in thought, nodding a couple times to show her understanding. She can just imagine how moving in an organized manner the little bots could link up into some rather impressive structures both static and fluid in nature. As she starts to pick more up, her curiosity of them shifts in a different direction that tightens the muscles in her brow. She wonders if these might be the tech she had watched in video clips moving like a dark cloud beneath the man wearing a Kabuki mask.

That however, is not something she can broach with Hiro. Guilt will not allow it, and sitting out in the open like this would be the wrong place to try something so delicate even if she could. Finding her father and discerning what had gone wrong during her years of absence and her time in the hospital is her responsibility.

His voice brings her out of those thoughts, and glancing up from the floor to see that effort to smile, she manages to attempt the same with better results. She's had a lot of practice after all. With a shrug of her shoulders as she deposits several microbots in the box, she provides the reason her release had been unannounced, "Which I can assure you was intentional. The hospital cleared me to discharge and I waited until it got dark to leave. Apparently the hospital had quite a time keeping journalists out of my room, especially after I got out of the ICU. Not particularly camera shy but I don't think it would have gone well to have a surprise attempt at an interview then."

Crutches make excellent support as well as extensions, especially to knock something down.

A pause comes as she stretches a little deeper under the chair with a twist to go after the remaining bots, but she speaks again after snagging a couple of them, "Sorry to have surprised you showing up here. I'm just trying to pick up some things, and then I'll leave." Hiro will have his school back without having to worry about her acting as an unwanted reminder.

That she feels the need to leave so quickly after running into him definitely brings on some alarm; maybe he screwed up. Oh god, he hopes he's not making her feel unwelcome, but he's running on empty and not actually sure what kind of signals he's broadcasting right now.

"No! I mean, you don't have to....do that....." He grimaces as he scoops the last of the remaining microbots into the box. "I'm not trying to chase you off campus, or anything."

He tries smiling, but it turns into a sideways look and a frown.

"Um, truth be told, you should know one thing." He picks himself up off the floor, rubbing at the back of his neck - "My brother is, um. Not dead anymore?"

Fingertips just touching the last of the microbots, it takes an extra wiggle forward in the seat to finally get a hold of it before Abigail withdraws fully from beneath the seat with the parts to Hiro's invention deposited into the box with the rest of its kind. Sitting herself up with a push of her arms to lift herself upright, she feels the rush of blood falling back towards her heart as gravity takes effect, bringing a momentary woozy sort of sensation with it. That unsteady feeling only makes her further off balance as Hiro tries to express an acceptance of her presence at the school rather than the expected rejection or resentment.

On her face he can watch as surprise passes for the appearance of reticent smile. Hiro had indeed been her primary concern here at the school, knowing he would be the most affected if they crossed paths, but on the whole, there are so many other factors that make her feel as though she doesn't belong here anymore.

Before she can organize the words she needs to try to explain this, Hiro really takes her footing out from under her figuratively when he reveals one key fact.

...what?

Thoughts stuttering to a complete halt, her blue eyes widen as she stares up at Hiro, trying to comprehend the impossibility. Her father had falsified his own death, she had been declared dead after the accident at the lab-but somehow, this feels entirely beyond the bounds of reason and logic.

"...did he survive the fire?" she asks, grasping for some way to explain the how.

"That's...kinda a hard question to answer," Hiro admits, running a hand down the side of his face. He lets out a sigh, debating with himself for a moment; but figuring he owes her at least a little explanation, he plunks down in the seat next to her with his box on his lap, feet swinging inches off the floor.

"I mean, it stands to reason, right? He's alive, so somehow he must have survived." Only it's not so simple, and even as he explains he's echoing his own internal debates and questions about the matter, thinking out loud to her. "But there's a lot of spooky details that don't add up. He was missing for a long time, presumed dead after the fire, and then he just turned up at the hospital one day alive."

He glances sideways at her as he says this, trying to gauge her reaction; he doesn't really know how much to tell her, exactly. Tadashi's "illness" and the security footage featuring the Krei Tech van, maybe he should keep to himself; he's told her father, but that was strictly on a need-to-know basis. She was involved in Silent Sparrow more than her father, but his own reticence makes him hesitant to share details freely, especially when he hasn't had time to think about it.

"He doesn't remember what happened. There's this months-long hole in his memory. All he remembers is, he was inside that burning building, and then he woke up in the hospital." He'll share that much, because he knows she'll ask.

Focus remaining locked on Hiro, Abigail shifts her weight off her arms to sit back in the seat and sink against the backrest of the chair for support instead. Leaning to something static for support, she can better attend everything Hiro tells her. One hand reaches to the top button of her shirt peaking above her sweater to grasp and press between her fingers as she tries to digest the concept.

The first potential explanation that someone had tried to more or less replace Tadashi Hamada in a con is immediately discarded. Hiro is a smart teenager, one that couldn't be fooled by paltry tricks, especially not after mere months. Yet others are not as forthcoming as so many details are mysterious, even to Tadashi himself with amnesia of the events between those two points in time.

Perplexed, she considers less overarching potentials. Getting out of the fire itself with no one witnessing his escape is the first enigma to answer. Thoughful for a moment, she chooses her words with care as she asks for more information, "...did he receive any treatment at the hospital? Was he near any particular display in the showcase that he can remember?"

The human body is not so good at handling fire or an explosion for that matter, but technology, even new and barely tested, could have offered a potential escape or sort of shelter for him.

"Some burns. Smoke inhalation." Hiro shrugs, and then he glances at her because he realizes how weird that sounds - if Tadashi had been treated for any of those things, you'd think it'd be right after the fire, not several months after he was already considered a dead man. If there was a separate incident, Tadashi can't remember.

"I...don't know about anything else." Callaghan had survived with Hiro's microbots, so the idea Tadashi might've done the same isn't so far-fetched. "I mean, there was a whole tank full of water in there for the underwater bike thing, but...it was a big explosion."

He squeezes the box in his lap, letting out some of the tension running through his head. "It's - not fun to talk about. For obvious reasons, I guess. Sorry, I'm probably wasting your time and you said you were looking for something -"

He's not even giving her all the data, so he's definitely wasting her time.

Perplexed by the need for treatment for damage resulting from fire exposure, Abigail furrows her brow as the obvious hits her even as Hiro continues to speak. Burns and smoke inhalation should have needed immediate treatment-not months later. With the passage of months, he should have already been well on the road to recovery if not fully healed depending on the severity of each infliction if it had indeed been from the showcase. Still, she holds back from interrupting, taking in what little other information the teenager offers before Hiro shuts down the topic quite explicitly.

He doesn't want to talk anymore about that, and she can only respect that wish. It is not her place to further question even if the incongruities will stubbornly stick in her thoughts.

Brow lifting as she pushes her lips together, Abigail releases her grip from the button and shakes her head as she opens her palm in a subtle gesture, "Mm, no it's okay. You don't need to apologize. I really have nothing but time right now." Lowering her hand to her lap, she pauses for a moment to look towards the office, then back the other way to Hiro. Taking in a slower, deeper set breath, she steadies herself with a faint tightening of her arms against her sides and reveals the reason for her visit to the school, "I'm not here to look for anything, actually. One of the staff members already performed the search. ...I just came to see if she found anything from my father's office that was still here."

Her father is still alive, but she has not seen him since the day her experiment went horribly wrong.

"O-oh."

He stutters that out, freezing in his seat just for a second - right, okay. She's here to look for her father's things. And isn't that ironic, he thinks, because until recently Hiro was in possession of several of those items, only he'd returned them to their owner and -

And he can't tell her that. He doesn't even know how she feels about her father, after - everything. He can't risk telling her he's been in contact with the man, either...

He can poke around a little, though. Maybe he can get an idea of what she thinks and then...he doesn't know. He just wants more information. So he ventures:

"I uh...I heard he escaped." Ha. An understatement. "- So I guess you haven't been able to see him. Sorry about that."

Edited 2015-03-07 00:54 (UTC)

The prodding brings about an immediate reaction that shows even as Abigail does her best to temper the pained response. Bowing her head forward as she nods, she delays her words long enough to take a deeper breath as her fingers bury into her sweater to hold. Her voice is a little airy, unable to hide the sigh that escapes with them, "Yeah, yeah...he did."

Uncomfortable looking at Hiro now, she skims the surface only to withdraw given the potential of upsetting the teen, "And you're right, I haven't seen him. He probably has no idea I'm out of the hospital, and even if he did he's well...he's involved in some other things now. Not much I can do about it."

She wants desperately to see her father again but as it is, she can barely get around let alone go chasing after the man in a Kabuki mask in dark alleyways.

Hiro will admit to feeling a little guilty, prying like that and seeing her react the way that she does, but...he wouldn't say he wouldn't do it again. Because the way she acts, the way she talks when he brings up her father, is enough to tell him at least one very important thing:

She doesn't hate him.

In fact, if she could, he's guessing she'd like to see him.

And yeah it's a little weird because he'd think she'd be more upset with him, about what he did, but he knows that's just his own feelings speaking, and that if...if Tadashi had done anything so awful (not that Tadashi would), he knows he would've felt the same way. And he still would've given anything to see his brother again.

So he folds his hands in his lap and he tries to look like he regrets asking, even if he doesn't, even if instead the little gears in his head are all tick-ticking away looking for an angle, a way he can work this to - maybe it'd help both of them.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to - I shouldn't have brought it up," he lies. "But for what it's worth, I'm sorry you haven't been able to see him."

From a purely pragmatic standpoint, a Robert Callaghan with a chance to reconnect with his daughter might be a happier Callaghan - and therefore a safer one. Less likely to completely lose control of his microbots. He tells himself that so he doesn't have to think about the fact he's seriously considering doing something nice for Callaghan.

"If you ever feel like hanging around the lab or something, you can come visit. I don't think anybody here would mind. Might feel a little more like home? Is there any way I can contact you if...I dunno, maybe you just wanna hang out sometime?"

An apology and words of sympathy bring her gaze back to the teenager- after all, Hiro knows what it feels like to be separated from a loved one. She manages to force a flicker of a smile, but nothing more, "It's how it is. As long as he takes care of himself I guess I don't have much right to complain."

It's hard. It's so incredibly hard to sit around and turn her thoughts in circles over and over, looking for some way to reach her father, something that she missed, something she could just try- But in the end, she always reaches the same depressing conclusion. As things are for her currently without resources to even support herself, she has no course of action available to her to find Robert Callaghan. Instead, all she can do is cling to what remnants he had left behind from his old life-the life she had been a part of once.

The same life everyone else has forgotten ever existed before Yokai.

At the offer to spend time freely at the lab or simply hang out with Hiro, a far more genuine smile shows, and she manages to coax her hands to relax enough to let color return to her knuckles. Abigail provides a warning and the only option for contact she has available in answer, "I do miss the lab. I used to spend a lot of time there observing, but I have an old habit of getting curious about projects. And being around proper equipment again might be too much temptation to start up some of my own. That said, hanging out sometime would be nice. I don't have a phone or anything, but I managed to resurrect an email at the public library I check on frequently."

The account had been long deleted, but no one else had claimed her account name since her disappearance over the years. It's the only form of communication she has without even an address for mail.

Edited 2015-03-20 11:46 (UTC)

Baymax wandered the halls of SFTI. He wouldn't have been doing so, but Hiro had informed him that 'just standing around' waiting for him and the others to finish their classes tended to unnerve some students. And since he didn't wish to cause anyone any distress, instead of standing around he was walking around. Which was apparently better, as no one had mentioned finding it distressing.

He paused, however, when he picked up a set of familiar life readings nearby. Turning to look at their source, he sees the slouched form of Abigail Callaghan. Well, this was unexpected. Based on his scans, she seemed to be recovering well enough, under the circumstances, which was good. But her posture and her hormonal readings indicated stress and nervousness. Clearly, she could use the services of a personal healthcare companion.

Baymax toddled on over to her, and gave a little wave of greeting. "Hello, Miss Callaghan," he said. "I am Baymax, personal healthcare companion. Are you in need of any assistance?"

It's the squeaking that gets her attention first, the sound of vinyl rubbing with air pressure. Blinking as the unusual sound draws her out of her thoughts, she lifts her head and looks up to the tall robot as he approaches her position. Though she glances side to side to see whether or not someone else had come near her position without her noticing, she finds herself still alone. Faced by this rather extraordinary robot, Abigail's interest in it only heightens as it greets her in such a friendly manner along with her name.

Thankfully, Baymax also provides an introduction of himself. Identifying himself as a robot with healthcare aligned functions, Abigail can take a guess as to why the robot may have responded to her. But how he knows her...

"Hello, Baymax," she starts, then uses a natural cover many humans rely upon, "I'm fine, thank you. Just waiting for a meeting to end."

There are number of possibilities. Her father might have had something to do with it for starters. This robot in particular could belong to one of his former students, or perhaps could have been the work of a colleague. Facial recognition of course could have been achieved from what pictures had once sat on her father's desk and...

Well, she hopes those pictures are some of the things that were found.

Abigail doesn't even notice as her heart rate creeps a little higher, fingers tightening against the fabric of her shirt further.

While that natural cover may work with other humans, it doesn't fool Baymax's scanners for even a second. You are not fine, Abigail.

"My scanners indicate that you are experiencing an accelerated heart rate and heightened levels of stress hormones unrelated to your current level of recovery," he says. A certain level of heightened stress was normal for someone in her state, but he had taken that into account as part of his diagnosis. "This, as well as your current posture, indicates that you are feeling 'nervous' or 'distressed'," he says. "I would like to help."

Edited 2015-02-15 01:06 (UTC)

Then again, maybe he just recognizes her from the media stories after all. No doubt SFIT had become mixed up with the whole mess given her father had been a professor on the staff. It also explains how Baymax is aware of the long process she is going through trying to recover physically from the years trapped in hypersleep. That fact had been mentioned on air numerous times. It was only thanks to efforts by the hospital that her release had been a quiet affair that had not garnered any attention from the story vultures.

Baymax is, at the very least, equipped with some sophisticated algorithms if he picked up on her current state of being a bundle of nerves wrapped in a very tired shell.

Fib denied, she has to smile faintly as she is caught and bows her head forward to swipe a few strands of loose hair behind an ear. As she looks upwards again, she notices increased attention from the passing students with Baymax in front of her, but thus far, it seems no one is curious enough to stop to listen.

"You're right. I do feel nervous. It's a normal response when something important isn't guaranteed to go as one hopes." Not that she doesn't have a lot of other worries on her mind in the background. Just the matter of whether or not the shelter could keep her another night is unclear.

Sophisticated algorithms indeed. As well as some excellently tuned scanners, which her presence there is proof of. Though it's unlikely she knows that yet. And Baymax has at least learned enough discretion to wait til they're somewhere more private to tell her, since he's fairly certain it will come up in the conversation at some point, if things continue for very long.

"What important event are you uncertain about?", he asks. And since he's noticed the increased attention as well, and knows that this will likely only increase her stress levels... "And would you like to go somewhere more private to continue our conversation? I believe the office across the hall is not currently in use, and you would still be able to see when the meeting ends."

Indeed, there's no nameplate on the door to the office across the way, indicating that it's not currently assigned to anyone. And the window in the door provides a clear view of the door to the administration office she's currently sitting in front of.

"You don't need to..." is the immediate, automatic response she makes as she looks away from Baymax only for her gaze to settle on the office door across the hall. As indicated, the office is indeed vacant with no name plaque next to the frame. There is in fact a window to the solid door itself which would limit view in at her but give her enough observation out to watch for the anticipated activity at the administration office entry.

Hesitation follows. Baymax would see her uneasy smile fade as she looks towards the closed door with indecision furrowing her brow faintly. Her breath pauses as thoughts cross her mind, and her jaw muscles tighten briefly as she swallows a little harder.

Maybe it's the stress. Maybe it's the fact that Abigail has been trying to find her way only to feel lost every minute of every day since she woke in the hospital. Maybe it's that she cannot sleep at night anymore without medication while surrounded by unfamiliar settings and strangers. Maybe it's the loneliness that comes with prolonged separation from her only family and loss of connections to any friends she had once had.

But a chance to talk, even with a strange robot, might bring at least a temporary sense of relief even if she already feels confident there is nothing he can do to improve her situation. At worst, it would merely be a way to pass the time until she can find out the outcome of the search.

Releasing her breath slowly, Abigail looks back up to the cameras that sit in his head with uncertainty, "If...if I did continue this conversation with you, Baymax....what level of confidentiality could you maintain regarding the contents of our discussion?"

Edited 2015-02-15 03:40 (UTC)

Baymax waits quietly while Abigail considers. He will not force her if his help was unwanted, but hopes she will accept his solution.

Her question, at least, is relatively easy to answer. "I am programmed to respect all laws regarding medical confidentiality," he states. But since he's fairly certain that's not all she means, he continues. "And while I am not programmed to lie, if you tell me not to reveal any other information that we may discuss to others without your consent, I will comply with your request, provided that doing so does not involve an immediate threat to your life or safety or that of others."

Which is robot speak for 'your secret's safe with me as long as it won't get anyone killed or maimed'.

Edited 2015-02-15 04:00 (UTC)

Toe of a single shoe scuffs softly at the floor beneath the front edge of her seat as Abigail wrestles with whether or not to accept the offer. Robots, especially this one with his friendly design, are a sort of comfort for a girl that had grown up surrounded by them. They are certainly more trustworthy than other humans, and far more truthful. She had been given similar offers for counseling in the hospital but had never been able to bring herself to accept.

Baymax has basically given her a promise to keep things confidential in the same way a therapist might; with allowance to break it only with the presentation of danger. Yet it seems somehow different coming from him. Almost more earnest.

Inhaling as she sits herself up in her seat, Abigail reaches over the side to grab up her backpack and slide the straps on over each shoulder. As she readies herself to move, next reaching to collect her crutches, she feels her cheeks warm as she finally gives her delayed answer while not looking at Baymax, "...alright. We can do that if you will not share what we talk about without my consent. It might even be best if you don't even report that you've seen me here at the school."

This will also give her a chance to learn more about this wonderful robot. Curiosity regarding how Baymax works and operates, both in physical terms and code, is certainly part of her decision to agree to treatment.

Edited 2015-02-15 04:28 (UTC)

The seeming earnestness perhaps come from the fact that helping and caring for others is the entire purpose of Baymax's existence. And though Abigail might well be on the road to physical recovery, there are other ways for humans to hurt, as he'd learned with Hiro. And if a human around him is hurting, as a good healthcare companion, he wants to help them.

He is pleased when Abigail agrees to accept his offer of treatment. "I will not report that I have seen you here," he said nodding slightly. He moves aside so that she can stand more easily once she gathers her backpack and crutches, then crosses the hall with her and opens the door to the unoccupied office, letting her enter first if she wishes.

Within are most of the basics one expects in an office; a desk with phone and desktop computer, a printer/copier, several filing cabinets, two office chairs (one on either side of the desk), and a small wastebasket. But nothing indicating that anyone uses the office. Not even a fake potted plant. It would look very drab if it wasn't for the window on the far wall that overlooks the SFTI grounds; the bright sunshine and green grass visible outside keep the place from seeming entirely lifeless.

((Correction: It might even be best if you don't report that you've seen me here at the school."))

Abigail stands herself up from the chair, not bothering to fully don the forearm cuffs for her crutches with such a short distance to cross to her next destination. Following after Baymax, she watches him open the door and hesitates to enter. Having assumed he would move inside directly, she does pick up on the unspoken cue for her to go first with the bot stepping back out of the way. Moving on through the doorway, she pauses briefly by the desk to look around.

Not much different from the basics that had been available to her father when he taught here.

Waiting for Baymax to step inside and close the door to create the barrier for privacy, Abigail turns to sit herself on the edge of the desk. Sitting in a chair would put her too low relative to Baymax, and besides the discomfort of looking up that far for an extended period, she would rather talk to him more directly.

Grip on her crutches shifting as she settles her weight back through her hips more, Abigail eases her hands off the handles to place against her angled lap, "I suppose for things to make sense when I explain, I should ask you a question first, Baymax. What do you know about my father, Robert Callaghan?"

Once Abigail is inside, Baymax enters himself, closing the door behind him. He then moves to stand face to face with Abigail at a comfortable conversational distance, ready to begin whenever she is.

The question is not entirely unexpected. Baymax opts to leave out the medical data he has from his scans of Professor Callaghan (and how he got it) as being irrelevant to the conversation, but otherwise attempts to give a concise summary. "Professor Robert Callaghan, age 65," Baymax began. "Formerly head of the robotics department here at San Fransokyo Technical Institute. Presumed dead after a fire that destroyed the campus exhibition hall, until he resurfaced during an attack on the new Kreitech complex. Currently, he is being held in the San Fransokyo City Jail awaiting trial on various criminal charges connected to said attack, as well as the fire in which he was originally thought to have died."

"My creator, Tadashi Hamada, was one of Professor Callaghan's students," Baymax added. "He greatly respected your father, and attempted to save him when he believed him to be trapped in the fire." Which Abigail might have already heard led to his death.

Attention on Baymax, Abigail listens to his prompt and thorough response. Though her chest tightens faintly at the statement of her father's age, she shows no other response to the recap of his recent activities. She had learned about it all through the news and on the internet, yet being reminded of the gap of years between herself and her father expanding in her absence brings a sense of discomfort. Not that she had not already been aware, but she has been trying her hardest to keep that fact out of her thoughts. It will be hard enough to face once she is able to visit him in person.

That calm slips however when Baymax reveals his creator's name. Her heart thrums an unsynched half beat as she visibly tenses through her frame. Already aware of the circumstances behind the death of Tadashi Hamada, a heavy feeling clasps to her as she feels like...

Like this is a mistake.

Pausing to collect her thoughts, Abigail becomes less aware of her limbs as she focuses on grappling for words with one hand slipping from her lap to the edge of the desk to anchor herself with, "...I don't think you should be talking to me. Or trying to help me."

Edited 2015-02-15 18:24 (UTC)

Baymax picks up on that tensing, as well as the out of synch half-beat of Abigail's heart. Her heartbeat returns to normal immediately afterward, so he says nothing, but he devotes a bit more of his processing power to monitoring, just in case. He's uncertain what prompted it, however. He'd only been giving her the information she asked for, after all.

When she speaks again, Baymax blinks once, because.... well he really doesn't have any other facial expression options. But hopefully the blink and slight tilt of his head are adequate to express his confusion. "Why should I not try to help you?", he asks. Because helping is kind of what he does, so if she thinks he shouldn't, there must be a good reason, right?

Watching Baymax long enough to catch that blink and tilt of his head, Abigail bows her head forward as she turns her gaze down. One hand still in her lap, she fidgets with the buttons of the portion of her shirt that extends below her sweater but does not undo the fastening.

Logic has little to do with her sudden attempt to back out of the conversation, but she does her best to explain it, "Have you ever heard the phrase, 'guilty by association'? That would probably apply here. Regardless of his intentions, my father is the one that set the fire that took your creator. I assume you now belong with his younger brother or his aunt," she had definitely read the obituary carefully. A brief pause to allow for correction if needed, then continues, "They likely would not want you to interact with me because of my connection to my father. Mr. Hamada is gone because of what my father did, and anyone associated with him is probably not welcome to the same courtesies as others."

Oh, so that's all it is. Baymax listens quietly until Abigail is finished, not interjecting anything into the brief pause. Once he's sure that she's done speaking however, he replies.

"Yes," he says, "Hiro Hamada is my primary patient. I live with him and Aunt Cass. But Hiro and his friends do not bear any ill will against you. You had no knowledge of your father's actions and would not have approved of them if you had."

"And Tadashi is here," he says, opening the access port on his chest so that she can see the green chip with Tadashi's name on it. He looks down at the open port as he continues. "Tadashi programmed me to heal the sick and injured. To help people. He also tried to help people, even at risk of his own life and safety." He looks back at Abigail. "Helping you is what Tadashi would have wanted."

Lips tightening into a thin line as she listens, Abigail recognizes an assumption and has to question whether or not other assumptions had been included in the initial reply. While it is true she would not have and does not approve of what her father did, there is no data Baymax has available to him to know that for a fact. She could, theoretically, be just as angry with Krei Tech. As such, is he assuming that Hiro and the others he knows harbor no feelings of animosity towards her?

An unexpected statement of presence brings Abigail's attention back up to Baymax as he opens his access port to show the green card with a clear name written on it. It's a figurative meaning, not a literal one, and the fact that a robot is grasping that sort of concept is enough to give her pause beyond the insistence that Tadashi would have wanted her to be helped. Slowly though, her posture wilts as her brow furrows.

Weakly she counters, unable to shake the feeling she shouldn't even be talking to Baymax any longer, "Not bearing someone ill will is not the same as wanting to help them. ...and you really need to protect that better. You shouldn't open your port unless it's absolutely necessary."

It's true that Baymax has no hard data to support the notion that Abigail would disapprove of her father's actions. But her words and actions thus far are not consistent with those of someone driven by revenge, given the data Baymax has on the subject, so until such data presents itself, he's working on the assumption that she is not. Perhaps it's simply something of Tadashi that unintentionally rubbed off on him; Baymax assumes the best of people unless given reason not to.

"It was necessary to explain," Baymax says. He does close the port back up, though. "Demonstration was also required for Hiro to understand." And for him to not want to Abigail's dad, but that's not necessary to mention.

"And I know that helping you is also what Hiro would want," Baymax says. There is a brief pause before Baymax continues, as he takes a moment to consider before speaking again. "I have agreed not to reveal what we discuss here unless necessary. Will you agree to do the same, Miss Callaghan?" Because if so he might just be able to explain things a bit better, as his words seem to hint at.

Casting a furtive glance towards the window of the door, Abigail cannot help but silently wish for the meeting to end early. It would give her a very logical reason to cut things short without having to find excuses to terminate the assistance she never should have accepted in the first place. As it is however, there is no sign of activity across the way.

While she disagrees that there was necessity for Baymax to share the chip with her, she is in no place to further dissent. It would be best to leave it up to Hiro to discern safety protocols for the robot even if he is young and inexperienced with protecting technology.

As her hand slides over the edge of the desk to instead grasp at the cuff of her crutch next to that side, Abigail stops as, once again, the robot surprises her. Asking for her to maintain confidentiality is entirely unexpected. She is no stranger to non-disclosure agreements, so keeping information secret in return should be no challenge.

However, this is a potential way out.

If she tells Baymax she does not agree, this might be the way to end the conversation securely. She could avoid touching her own raw nerves and not have to feel guilty for trying to seek relief. Yet...that would not be an honest escape. It would not be fair to Baymax.

"...I agree. I will keep anything you tell me in this room to myself."

Baymax waits quietly while Abigail comes to a decision. Fred had educated him on the concept of 'secret identities', and Hiro had forbidden him from telling Aunt Cass about their super-hero activities until Hiro could think of a way to tell her that wouldn't prompt an 'epic freak-out'. Otherwise, however, the decision to tell or not had been largely left up to Baymax's discretion.

And when Abigail agrees to keep the secret, Baymax doesn't see any reason to conceal the truth from her. "I know that Hiro would want to help you because he has done so before," Baymax says. "He and I were the ones who retrieved your pod from within the portal. That is also how I know you. The armor upgrade Hiro made for me vastly increases the range of my scanners, which allowed me to detect your life signs. Hiro and I then flew into the portal, and he assisted me in guiding your pod back to safety."

All of which means that they were both present for the attack on Kreitech and wearing armor. And given that Abigail is a logical and intelligent person, once that has a chance to sink in, it should be fairly easy to guess that Baymax, Hiro, and their friends are the group of mysterious super-heroes she's been hearing about. So... meet one of your rescuers, Abigail. Surprise?

Fingers sliding from the hard cuff of her crutches, Abigail stares towards Baymax with nothing less than a true sense of shock.

Although she heard each word clearly, it takes her a few extra seconds to process it all. In that time Baymax will see a sudden drop in her blood pressure as she feels the internal support draining from her head and shoulders. Hand falling numbly from her crutch, the device slips against the desk, sliding in a threat to fall only to catch by the handle on the smooth surface that also supports Abigail.

The robot built by and the younger brother of Tadashi Hamada had been the ones to save her...?

She had not known her rescuers, only able to piece together a vague description from various sources until this moment. Blue eyes remain fixed up on Baymax even as her head swims and her whole body starts to feel weaker, her breathing hitches. That clear, simple face blurs with the sudden appearance of tears. "You...and Hiro Hamada..." she starts only to struggle with the next words as the first tear escapes onto her cheek in a blink. Far quieter, she manages to bring out the two most important words in her mind, "...thank you."

Baymax indeed detected the sudden drop in blood pressure and reached out a gentle hand to rest on Abigail's shoulder to steady her lest she risk slipping off the edge of the desk. If it dropped too much he would summon help, but as there was no immediate danger, he determined that steadying her through it was all the treatment needed for the moment.

He sees the tears in her eyes too, though he can't immediately identify the emotion that prompted them. Her brain chemistry is rather chaotic at the moment, indicating a number of emotions at once. But all overlaid with the deep level of stress he'd originally noticed. It didn't take long to determine the proper treatment.

Baymax moved forward slightly and pulled Abigail into a gentle hug, his camera 'eyes' sliding shut after a moment. "You are welcome, Abigail Callaghan."

The gentle hand coming to her shoulder is given little thought beyond the mild sense of security it offers as she struggles with keeping herself together, acutely aware of her debilitated state.

However, within seconds, Abigail finds herself engulfed in vinyl and air that had been tailored to provide support and comfort alike. Startled certainly, Abigail stiffens through her spine with hands lifting to the air as Baymax guides her against his front with his arms wrapping around behind her in a gesture she recognizes but had not expected to receive. The sense of bewilderment lasts until Baymax verbalizes his reply.

That is when a crack in her armor splits.

Blue eyes wide as she stares at the white in front of her face, those tears fill her vision entirely as her throat tightens, suddenly feeling as though she is choking on her own breath. A phantom pain in her chest twists at her heart as she sinks into the steady support around her slowly with muscles beginning to quake. Wide eyes narrow as tears flow free down her cheeks, and close completely as she bows her head forward with a sudden sob. Slender form curling forward, her hands press in against his airy middle as Abigail cries to one of her rescuers.

Always surrounded by people yet still alone, Abigail has had no one that had been a part of her life prior to her years of hypersleep. Her father had been taken into custody before she could even wake enough to give her name, and with no other family to call on or even friends available to reach out to, everything since has been faced alone. As such, there has been no one to hug her. She had managed thus far, but to finally be held when already so overwhelmed by it all is nothing short of the ideal treatment.

In opening her stress to the surface, Abigail cannot help herself as she outright bawls against the comfort so generously accorded to her. As weak and as tired as she is however, Abigail does not possess the energy to sustain such a cry, and within a minute is already beginning to quiet back down with her sobs subsiding enough to allow for some semblance of rhythm to return to her breathing.

Baymax supports Abigail as she cries, gentle and steady. He rubs her back a little, both in a comforting gesture and to help ease her breathing back into a normal rhythm as she begins to settle. Already, her levels of stress hormones are beginning to drop somewhat, which indicates that the treatment is working as expected.

"It is alright to cry," he says once he feels she's settled enough to really hear him again. "Crying is a natural response to pain. And a healthy way to release stress."

Sometimes it was still weird being back in school again. From Tadashi's perspective, he'd never really left. Just the expo, the fire... then the hospital. There were months worth of missing memories that he, to be perfectly honest, tried pretty hard not to think about, but it was difficult. Difficult missing a few more weeks while he figured out how to prove to the government that he was who he said he was instead of a scammer looking to use the grant money of the deceased. Difficult to catch up on the months of work that, even while working his hardest to catch up, left him at least a semester behind in most of his classes. Difficult ignoring the strange looks he still got from students and faculty that couldn't see past a framed photo and flowers and his name over the entrance of the newest building on campus.

Man, walking by that building never seemed to get less awkward.

Even now, months after his return and re-enrollment at SFIT, things hadn't gotten much easier. His fading "episodes" had seemed like something he could work through at first, but as time passed they seemed to happen more frequently and last longer, leaving him drained at best and unable to get out of bed for full days at a time at worst. He tried to keep positive in front of Hiro (the poor kid had plenty on his plate already without his big brother adding more to the pile), but every episode saw Tadashi falling further behind, and without the excuse of a diagnosed illness to defend himself. The kindness of many professors, his exemplary past work, and his own willingness to work straight through every weekend and holiday had saved him so far, but the slips hadn't gone unnoticed.

The meeting with his academic adviser had run longer than he'd hoped. Tadashi knew that she meant well, that she only wanted to help him, but she asked too many questions that he just didn't have answers to. Or, if he did have answers, they were nothing that any sane person would believe. It was a relief to finally be excused, pulling the office door shut behind him and gratefully returning his cap to its rightful place on his head. The hat was almost like a security blanket at this point, something solid and right to reach for when he was feeling unsure... and it's pretty useful for masking the circles under his eyes that are just a tad too dark to be accounted for by the average SFIT student's workload.

His own focus is so tied up in grades and deadlines that he actually walks right by the woman hunched in one of the chairs outside administration. It's only a brief flash of an oddly familiar profile in his peripheral vision that makes him stop and look back, and even then it takes a few moments for him to register just who it is he's looking at. He's only seen her in photos, after all, and she's not quite the same woman that used to cover the walls of his professor's office.

"... Abigail Callaghan?"

By this time, custodial services had already managed to rid the floor of the slushy spill. It had done nothing to address the dye stained on her legs, but Abigail is showing no signs of being self-conscious of that matter. Instead, her thoughts had drawn her inward after Hiro left to return to his course work. Her gaze remains fixated down as another student exits from the administration office, passing by without anything more than a blink as he passes through her field of sight.

Once more worrying at the fabric of her shirt, she tries to organize the assortment of thoughts buzzing about in her mind. Still anxious regarding the impending meeting with a faculty member, more of her thoughts have diverted to all the information she had gleamed from her encounter with the youngest current student at SFIT. Left with far more questions than answers, she feels no closer than before to deciphering the chain of events that had led to and followed from the fire at the school showcase.

The sound of her name is met with a slight delay, then Abigail lifts her head up to turn towards the source with a rising hum of question from her throat, even as her gaze stays fixated a little longer at that spot on the floor as though reading some last few words of an unseen sentence or numbers in a calculation step. Blue eyes follow the turn to settle on a taller figure and rise up to his face, Abigail tenses with her fingers clasping to stillness at the hem in her lap. Despite a flash of doubt, there is nevertheless a stark resemblance to the last one to ask for confirmation of her name.

It couldn't be.

Tentatively she answers as she forces her voice out, "...yes, I'm Abigail. ...you're..." only to falter a shade or two of color drains from her face.

"I guess someone told you about me..."

Yep, Tadashi Hamada. The young man whose death Robert Callaghan was indirectly responsible for (directly responsible if you go by the state laws concerning arson). A guy who should be in the city cemetery under the gravestone with his name on it. He's been to that gravestone, the one settled right beside his parents' as the most morbid reminder of what should have been. He doubts there'll ever be a day where the sight doesn't send his stomach lurching.

So it follows that he should hate the man responsible for his murder, as well as anyone associated with him, but instead of disgust or any kind of discomfort? Whatever confusion or curiosity he was sporting for is replaced with what he hopes is a disarming smile, and one edged with concern when he sees the way she pales.

"Hey, kind of a dumb question, but are you alright?"

Unaware of the onset of her pallor, Abigail releases the hem of her shirt with one hand to lift with an open palm and wave against the notion she is not alright. "Fine. 'm fine," she forces out in attempted reassurance, but as a sudden queasy feeling coupled with a faint spinning sensation hit, she allows herself a brief escape. In a movement reminiscent of her father, Abigail bows her head forward as that open hand reaches further up to find her face and rub in an effort to steady herself.

Keep it together.

Although Hiro had alerted her to the fact that his brother had indeed survived the fire, she had not yet had much time to incorporate the new revelation and prepare herself for a possible encounter. Especially not here and now.

It certainly doesn't help her claim that her breathing pattern is losing consistency and when she does breathe, it's quick and her accessory breathing muscles are kicking in to assist the normally automatic motion of the chest.

"You don't look fine..."

Tadashi leans over a bit, tipping up his hat as he moves to perch lightly on the edge of one of the chairs beside her. His presence is obviously not exactly beneficial at the moment, but he can't bring himself to walk away either.

"Hey, slow breaths." He keeps his voice low and steady, giving smooth instructions while trying to keep from drawing attention to the both of them just yet. Extra attention is probably the last thing Abigail needs right now.

"In through your nose and out through your mouth if you can, okay?"

Quite suddenly, through all that tension in her, a laugh of all things slips out at the instructions given by the elder Hamada. It at least serves to reset her breathing somewhat, even as she forces a slightly longer exhale to explain what could be misread as a rude sound, "Sorry, you sound just like the nurses at the hospital..."

Nodding her head, she makes the necessary effort to deepen her next inhale, bringing that fresh air in to the lowest lobes of her lungs through her nose as instructed. Practiced, she even purses her lips appropriately to exhale the air out slowly. Three deep breaths in this fashion pass, then she allows the tidal volume to decrease to avoid overdoing it.

It has the intended effect, and as Abigail lifts her head, she does have some of her color back. Fingers sliding from her cheek to curl under the fabric where the collars of her shirt and sweater meet, she tries to offer an apologetic smile with her next words, "Sorry about that, Mr. Hamada. After already meeting your brother I didn't expect I'd meet you as well." That at least reveals the 'someone' that told her about him.

Edited 2015-03-18 07:57 (UTC)

Tadashi can't help but chuckle a little. "I've had a lot of practice. From both sides of the situation, even."

He doesn't press her, just watching quietly as she takes those careful breaths and regains her composure. It's only when she's looking better (and even smiling a bit, that has to be a good sign) that he sits back in his chair a little, reasonably confident that there's no risk of her panicking again.

"Just Tadashi's fine." One hand rises to scratch almost nervously at his hairline, pushing his hat back at a slightly awkward angle. If he notices, he doesn't make any move to fix it, instead letting his hand drop and fixing Abigail with an apologetic smile of his own. "Don't apologize. You're not the first person to have that reaction, actually."

It's to be expected when one suddenly comes back from the dead. At least Abigail got a little bit of warning to work with.

"You met Hiro? I hope he was behaving himself."

It makes sense Tadashi would be experienced with the technique given that Hiro had told her Tadashi had been treated at the hospital when he turned up again.

At the correction for his name, Abigail offers a mild nod of acknowledgement. She tends to default to formal address when speaking to those considered legal adults, another habit inherited from her father. Meant only as a courtesy, she has no issue with adjusting to something more relaxed. Though a slight sympathetic frown still follows when he relays that others have had similar reactions, "Still, that must be hard on you too."

Maybe there is a positive side to the fact she hasn't been able to reconnect with much of anyone after her years of absence.

Regarding Hiro, she nods as her hand still at her lap rubs over her knee faintly at the fresh memory of the cold splash of slushy on her legs, but she answers with assurance and a smile that seems stronger as she continues to steady, "Yes, and he was more than civil." A pause, then with an edge of concern, "Even as stressed as he seems to be right now he was thoughtful enough to suggest my visiting here again after today."

"I'm sure you can relate. There are worse things, though, and I guess it's pretty understandable."

The mention of Hiro's stress levels sets him frowning a bit. Tadashi had no doubt upon Hiro's acceptance to SFIT that the kid could handle the course load (as well as any average SFIT student could, anyway), but that was before the the fading manifested. Tadashi did his best to try and isolate the effects, to keep his episodes from interrupting his little brother's life, but the symptoms weren't exactly easy to hide and the stress of it seemed to weigh just as heavily on Hiro as the physical effects did Tadashi. More so, even.

"... He's a good kid." The best kid. "And I agree with him. From what I've heard about you, I think you'd fit in pretty well around here."

"Actually I had a similar reaction to meeting Hiro. Just less severe," she offers when she lacks much ability to truly sympathize with his experiences in reunions or introductions leaving the other party unsteady. More of a 'it's me more than you' in this case. Her ability to relate is hampered by one very important factor; her 'death' had been a private affair. Secluded on an island behind walls of metal and limited to a small crowd, the quarantine of her loss had been strict once activated. The binding Non-Disclosure Agreements had seen to that. His, on the other hand, had been far more public and widely known after the media had covered the fire and everything that followed.

For most people, Abigail had just not come back for a very long time. Though reported dead, without details or images to connect beyond an empty casket, it was easier to write off as misinformation. Especially given the years that had made her nothing but an old memory for most.

Once again, Abigail is caught by surprise when Tadashi reinforces the same offer to return to SFIT to visit. She would fit in. Fingers at her neckline slipping free to let her hand lower next to the other in her lap, she looks at him silently with a turn of her shoulders to face him more directly. Baffled, she asks outright, "...you're serious?" It seems more than a mere offer extended out of social grace.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Reintegration: Step 1 [Open to All (OU and AU welcome)]

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*as a shade

/so late i'm sorry /)_(\

/apologies forever because late is contagious it seems

no worries~

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