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[The machine isn't ready.

That shouldn't be a problem. With Abigail's insight into the workings of Silent Sparrow, and the containment fields used to keep the portals relatively stable, they've made a lot of progress. The ring on the floor in the center of their shared lab, delineated by a black and yellow danger zone and draped in a tarp when not in use, is enough to contain Tadashi's episodes when they happen and keep him stable for a while after that; they're in the final stages of testing a more permanent solution, which in theory should be ready in a few weeks. It's just not ready now.

And that's the problem. Because one second they're having a late night in the lab, just working on homework and a couple of unrelated projects, and the next Tadashi's on the floor and Hiro can feel the heat from the other side of the room.]

Tadashi!

[Three notebooks and a coffee can full of nuts and bolts hit the floor, and Hiro's already moving, darting to his brother's side like clockwork. Somewhere in the back of his mind he notes this time is wrong, that it's happening too fast and too strong and it doesn't fit with the projected data on how bad this theoretically gets, and how quickly. Also, that this happened just a couple of days ago, and that it shouldn't be happening again so soon.

The heat when he gets close enough to grab Tadashi's shoulder is stifling.]

Hey, talk to me. Can you move?

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[Abigail's help has been invaluable, her containment designs an godsend. The episode's still come, but Abby's work has shortened their duration significantly. Tadashi no longer spends hours curled up on the floor, no longer spends full days recovering from the intense drain of those few hours.

Still, even shortened, every episode still comes complete with the same pains. The same heat, the same otherworldly burning, and that same horrific pulling that Tadashi's yet to find the words to really explain. He's described it to the others several times, but no words can possibly explain how it truly feels. How wrong it is, like reality is trying to break down inside you. Trying to split you in half because your very existence is breaking the laws of nature, and after every episode a part of Tadashi wonders how many times a person split before they won't be able to put themselves back together again. How many times can a man burn to death before they lose their minds?

But he keeps those thoughts to himself. He has his life back, or something like it, and they're so close to a permanent solution. Soon they'll be able to put this behind them.

But soon is not tonight. The symptoms usually come on gradually, giving Tadashi and anyone nearby a few minutes before the worst hits, but tonight? Tonight the pain hits him like a truck, and he's on the floor before he even realizes what's happening to him. The normally slow increase of heat is bypassed entirely in favor of immediate burning, and between the pain and the heat and the pull, it's suddenly very difficult to breathe. Tadashi lies mostly rigid on the floor where he fell, tears streaming from screwed-shut eyes. One hand is clenched in his fabric of his shirt, likely digging furrows right through to the skin underneath while his other hand grasps aimlessly for something. For anything to ground him.]

H-H-Hiro... [He reaches for his little brother with that free hand, eyes still closed and unaware of the way the limb seems to be fading in and out of existence. He doesn't think to actually answer Hiro's question, too focused on pain and pull and the fact that something is very, very wrong.]

I'm gonna take that as a no.

[It's not funny, it's not even close to a situation where snarking is appropriate, but Hiro is terrified and he's grabbing for whatever keeps him grounded, keeps him from spiraling off into a panic. Now is not the time to panic. His brother's lying on the floor in a state of near-dying, shedding tears, and now is not the time to panic. Somebody has to do something and he's the only one capable right now.

He grabs for Tadashi's hand on instinct—and jerks back the next second with a yelp, his palm seared by scorching heat. The apology is pouring out before he has time to think about it.]

I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry— [Tadashi's in pain and this time he's not even capable of providing small comfort, and for some reason he feels the need to apologize, even as he scrambles to his feet and leaves his brother lying on the floor, untouched.] Just a sec, I just—need to—

[—Need to focus on what he can do. He's back a second later with the heavy gloves they wear for welding, kicking the tarp off the containment field, getting hands under his brother's arms and dragging him with considerable effort (and some jostling) into the ring.]

You're gonna be fine, okay? [He swallows hard, not really feeling the words, but he keeps a steady voice anyway. Tadashi's usually the strong one, but he can't be that right now. So Hiro's gonna be that for the both of them, if he has to.] This is definitely not normal, but it's fine. Nothing this thing can't handle.

[That's what Krei thought about the containment field for the original portals, too, and that blew up.]

[Oh, Hiro. No, no, no, not the apologies. None of this is Hiro's fault and the poor kid's put his life on hold to try and make things right. To give his brother not just a second chance, but a third. Taking on the pressure and (trying to take) the blame for something that he never should have had to worry about in the first place...

Still it's less the apologies that catch Tadashi's attention and more the yelp. Even through his own pain, he understands that that sound was his little brother and that it came when Hiro tried to hold his hand. His skin is burning without burning, so hot that he can't even be touched, and he pulls that hand back toward his chest to join the other, trying pointlessly to contain the heat. To keep the pain to himself.

But that seems to be the extent of help he can contribute. Getting up is out of the question, let alone walking. It takes everything he has to simply keep the sounds he's making to a minimum, his jaw practically locked shut against the pain as small whimpers escape with every bump and rough tug as Hiro moves him.

This is wrong, and not just the pulling. Not just the burning or fading. He's supposed to be the big brother and the caretaker. He's supposed to be the strong one. This isn't supposed to happen so fast. Neither of them are ever supposed to feel so helpless.

But helpless is what Tadashi is, lying curled up in the center of the ring and sucking in shallow, desperate gasps through clenched teeth as pieces of him take turns cycling in and out of existence.]

[Once Tadashi's inside the ring, Hiro hesitates, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. This is the part where he follows the safety protocol and gets out, stands back and lets the containment field do its work. He even takes a couple of steps away, backing up to the desk, hitting keys on the keyboard to start the machine without needing to look. As it hums to life, lights flashing around the edges of the ring, he grips the edge of the desk, eyes fixed on his brother.

His brother, curled up in a ball on the floor, looking so much smaller than he is and whimpering quietly and burning to death. It hurts to see him like that, and Hiro chokes on a soft, keening noise. It's not right. He already died once, alone and suffocating in the heat, and Hiro doesn't know how it happened or what Tadashi's last moments were like but this is as close to seeing it as he'll ever get.]

Tadashi—

[Hiro grinds his teeth, feeling a knife twist somewhere in his gut. He can't just watch this.

He barely remembers making a conscious decision, but at some point he pushes off the desk and steps back into the ring. The floor inside is glass, translucent and shimmering, with what might be a hint of a vast expanse somewhere beyond; the air around is the same. But it's not a portal, and it stays solid underneath him when he steps inside and drops to his knees, gathering Tadashi up and cradling his head in his lap.

He shouldn't be in here, and he shouldn't be anywhere near Tadashi, but he doesn't care. It's hot, it's scorching and just about stifling, but with at least a layer of cloth protecting bare skin from direct contact he can deal with it. He swallows around a lump in his throat, hesitating before moving to card gloved fingers gently through his brother's hair.]

Shhhh, it's f-fine... [He's never in his life before the last few months been asked to be the caretaker. He has no idea how to be the person his brother needs right now. But he can try.] I'm right here, you're not alone and you're gonna be fine—so just...tell me when it feels like it's working. I'll be here as long as you need me.

[Hiro, no. If Tadashi were capable of giving a safety lecture, he'd sure as heck be giving one now. The containment field is still experimental technology, made specifically to counter Tadashi's condition. Coded specifically to Tadashi, so they can't know how it will affect a normal person. There could be negative effects, long-term issues...

It's not safe. Tadashi isn't safe. Not right now. Why this time is different from incidents of the past is beyond him, but he knows it isn't safe.

The temperature in the containment field rises, not gradually, but in jerky, sudden pulses, and the next time a chunk of Tadashi fades, something else is visible in his place. Something indistinct and flickering. Something scarlet and orange and hot, hot white that brings with it the scent of sulfur and burning hair, and when Tadashi regains solidity his exposed skin isn't just hot, but bright red.

He's burning. The containment isn't working and he's burning. Not just feeling the pain now, but living it all over again, one cycle at a time.

But even the burning can't override the feeling of the pull as it intensifies and oh god, resisting feels like trying to turn his body inside out. Digging in his metaphorical heels, trying so hard to remain solid, to halt those cycling limbs so that he can stay where he belongs. With Hiro. Hiro, who's taking too many risks but trying so hard to comfort. To reassure. He has to ride this out. Has to make it through. He needs to be okay.

But he can feel himself losing.

And it's that thought that gives him the strength to finally open his eyes again, squinting through the pain and the pull to try and focus on his little brother. He can see flares of orange beyond the wet blur that is Hiro's head and shoulders, but he can't be sure what they are. Are they even real? It doesn't matter. All that really matters is that Hiro can't be here anymore because something is happening. Something's building and whatever it is, when it comes? Tadashi's not going to be able to contain it.

The eyes he finally lays on Hiro are bright amber, reflecting light that isn't there. Light from another world, and it takes every last scrap steel and resolve he has inside to uncurl his body and roughly shove himself away from his younger brother. He can't aim properly, so he can't be sure his touch won't burn Hiro in the process, but one burn is better than whatever's coming. Hiro needs to get out of the containment field, get away, but between the pain and the heat Tadashi simply doesn't have the breath to deliver that message. Only that single shove and panicked eyes and useless lips mouthing the same two words over and over-

Getoutgetoutgetoutoutout-!]

Tadashi no—

[He tumbles backwards with the force of the shove, wide-eyed and shocked, one hand still desperately reaching for his brother. The spots where Tadashi's hands smacked against bare skin sting with burns, but the rejection stings worse, that he can't help and Tadashi won't let him. That no matter how hard he tries, he can never hold on tight enough; for the second time, Tadashi's tearing himself from Hiro's grip to face the fire alone. He stares at his brother, hand still outstretched, hovering. He can see Tadashi's skin burning an angry red, smell the hair burning too, and realizes with a stab of horror and the feeling of bile rising in his throat that it's not working, and Tadashi's dying, really dying this time, not hypothetically or slowly but right now.

His fingers curl into a fist, and his expression darkens, mouth pressed into a tight line.]

You're not doing this again. Not this time.

[He's already up, pushing himself to his feet and scrambling back out of the ring. The world lurches sharply back into focus; he hadn't realized how the containment field was affecting him. He doesn't have time to think about that, though, dropping to his knees and flipping open a panel on the ring where the manual override controls are.

There's treatment, and then there's the more permanent fix they've been working on. The thing that's supposed to stabilize his fading brother and lock him into this time and space, away from the fire. It hasn't been tested, it's not ready and they'd kept things separate for safety reasons, but the normal containment isn't working. Hiro's fast enough to calculate that at this rate, even if Tadashi doesn't get dragged right back to the point at the expo where he dies and stay there, he won't survive this for very much longer. It's not ready, but it has to be anyway.

He doesn't have a choice.

He raises his eyes briefly, worried, toward his brother.]

I'm sorry, Tadashi. Let's hope this doesn't go the way your first eighty-four Baymax test runs went.

[And then he keys in the codes and starts the endgame process that's meant to stop all this, praying as the hum of the containment ring grows into a dull roar and the overhead lights dim and flicker dangerously that it doesn't blow the breaker and knock out the power completely.]

[He's not rejecting you, Hiro. He's trying to protect you, can't you see?

Many people who meet the Hamada brothers look at the age difference between them and assume that Hiro is the only genius in the family. It's not an unreasonable assumption considering they're both operating at the same academic level in spite of the years between them, but Tadashi's no slouch. He's helped wherever he could and tried to stay on top of the progress they were making (he had pretty good reason to want to be involved, after all), but even so? A lot of what Hiro and Abigail have built here is beyond him. Between his lack of expertise on the subject in particular and Hiro's own lightning fast processing speed, keeping up wasn't easy. ~~Damn it, Hiro, he's an engineer, not a theoretical physicist.~~

He's sure he could manage a more complete understanding with time and study, but time is something they've always been short on, and now it seems they've run out. Tadashi watches Hiro scramble out of the containment field, something like relief spreading through him even as he lets his body curl back up into that tight fetal position. Another wave of heat sears one cheek and the side of his neck, but Tadashi can only lay still, so focused on forcing himself to breathe that he can only be vaguely aware of what Hiro's probably doing with those override controls.

The lights flicker and the machine howls as it starts working through the multiple processes meant to reach through time and space to lock Tadashi into place. It's incredible, really. A technological miracle built off the base of another government-funded miracle that cost billions of dollars, all to save one man. It's absolutely amazing... but it takes time. As the machine is working, the translucent glass beneath Tadashi changes color. There's a flash of a familiar, vibrant purple, and then everything goes red. The air within the ring shimmers, almost writhing. Back and forth, pushing and pulling and warping everything that can be seen through it, almost as if reality is warring with itself within the field.

And maybe it is.

The lights dim again as the machine shifts into high gear, and the fluorescent tubes in the overhead lighting closest to the containment field burst with several loud pops that are still only barely audible over the roar produced by the ring. The level of light, however, only seems to get brighter, but it's the wrong color. Orange instead of cold, flat white, and it's coming from Tadashi. His body is still cycling rapidly, torn between one world and another, but those moments of solidity seem to be getting longer. This world is winning, but the fight can't be over yet because what were once indistinct flashes of light and color and smell are now clear and steady flames. Devouring clothing and eating at skin, licking away at a man whose eyes are once again shut and whose mouth is still open, silently screaming all those hard-earned breaths away.

The glass cracks. Tadashi's on fire.]

[Shit, this isn't supposed to happen.

Hiro sort of understands the physics at work here, that's true. Abigail has explained it to him, Wasabi's helped as much as he can, and Hiro's smart; he learns quickly. But mostly he understands the machine, and what it's supposed to do, enough to understand that what it's doing now isn't one of those things. It's working, sure enough; Tadashi's more solid than he was a moment ago. The machine is bringing him back into sync with this timeline as intended.

But it's bringing the fire with it, and that's not part of the plan.]

Shit.

[He mutters, just as Tadashi bursts into flames.

A dozen things happen all at once. The fire alarm goes off, a piercing shriek that puts painful pressure on his ear drums; Hiro yells; the whole room turns to a smothering heat; and clouds of gaseous fire suppressants pour out of the built-in fire system in response, attempting to choke the flames before they can do any serious damage. Hiro stumbles away from the control panel, glass crunching under his feet, and yanks the fire extinguisher off the wall to turn it on the fire inside the containment field—sprints back, yanks the pin and discharges the contents of the extinguisher with his face turned half away from the heat of the flames.

He should be getting out, but nope. He's just as much of an idiot as his brother, in a smaller package.]

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