Chapter Text
Johnny shifted in his chair while Melissa crouched in front of him, checking the straps around the socket. The prosthetic clung to his thigh like an awkward piece of sports equipment he hadn’t signed up to wear.
“Any pinching today?” she asked.
He shook his head, then made a face. “Nah. Just the usual. Too tight, too loose, feels like an alien glued it on me. Same old.”
Melissa smiled without looking up, tightening one of the buckles. “That’s what learning feels like. Ready to get up?”
“Ready to regret it, sure.”
She stood, offering him the crutches. Johnny slid them under his arms and pushed himself upright. The weight of the prosthetic still threw him off balance, and he muttered a curse under his breath. Every time he stood it felt like the floor shifted, like the world was testing him.
“Slow and steady,” Melissa said, moving alongside him but not touching. “Trust the crutches to do their job.”
Johnny thumped forward, good leg first, prosthetic swinging stiffly to catch up. The sound it made on the polished floor was clunky and hollow, a noise that grated in his ears.
“God, it’s like walking with a refrigerator strapped on,” he said, sweating already. “Half a refrigerator, fine, but still.”
“You’re straighter than yesterday,” Melissa noted. “Your hip’s not kicking out as much.”
“Awesome,” Johnny panted. “Next thing you know, I’ll be winning marathons.”
He swung forward again, wobbling. The crutches caught his stumble just before his knee buckled. His arms ached from carrying so much of the load. His right thigh burned. The prosthetic felt heavy and useless, like a dead weight instead of a limb.
“See? This is why I like my chair,” he said through clenched teeth. “It doesn’t make me look like a baby giraffe on roller skates.”
Melissa gave a small laugh, but her voice stayed calm. “The chair isn’t going anywhere. You’ll use both. But the prosthesis will give you freedom in different ways.”
Johnny stopped, leaning hard on the crutches. His chest heaved. Sweat ran down his temple. He stared at the line of tape on the floor marking the end of the lane. Still a few steps away. It might as well have been miles.
“Feels like freedom to fall flat on my face,” he muttered.
“Maybe today,” Melissa said. “But look, you’re halfway there already! Don’t quit now.”
He groaned, forced his shoulders back, and swung the prosthetic forward again. Thump. Drag. Thump. Drag. Every step sounded like failure, but every step was still a step.
By the time he reached the tape, he was soaked in sweat and his arms trembled from gripping the crutches. He spun clumsily and lowered himself back into the wheelchair. Relief washed over him the second he sat down.
He tossed one crutch against the armrest with a clatter. “Chair wins. Every time. Ten out of ten.”
Melissa jotted a note on her clipboard but glanced up at him. “You’re stronger than yesterday. That’s all that matters.”
Johnny leaned back in his chair, breathing hard but with a crooked grin. “Yeah, well… not eating floor counts as progress, right?”
Melissa’s smile widened. “Exactly.”
Melissa didn’t let him sit there long.
“Alright,” she said, kneeling down again. “Leg out.”
Johnny groaned. “Come on, I just survived Mount Doom and you’re already making me do extra credit?”
“Stretching isn’t extra credit,” she said firmly. “It’s how you keep the muscles from locking up on you. Trust me, you’ll thank me when you don’t wake up in the middle of the night with cramps.”
He reluctantly extended his good leg, leaning forward as she guided the stretch. The tight pull along his hamstring made him wince.
“Yeah, yeah, feels amazing,” he muttered, then added under his breath, “Like medieval torture, but more professional.”
Melissa hid a laugh. “You’ll get used to it.”
He switched to the other side, stretching the thigh above the prosthetic. That part always felt stranger. The pressure of the socket dug into him in ways his brain hadn’t caught up with yet.
“Still feels like it’s not mine,” he admitted suddenly, voice low. “Like I’m… borrowing it.”
Melissa nodded, her hands steady on the strap as she adjusted his angle. “That’s normal. It takes time. Right now your brain still remembers what it used to feel like, so this doesn’t match. Eventually, it will start to.”
“Feels like eventually is a million years away.”
“More like a few months of hard work,” she said, glancing up at him with a small smile. “You’re already further along than most people this early.”
Johnny huffed, not quite convinced, but he didn’t argue either. He finished the stretch, then flopped back against his chair dramatically. “Okay, I’m officially done. Cancel my appointments for the next decade.”
Melissa chuckled and shook her head. “Nice try. Same time tomorrow, Johnny.”
He shot her a crooked grin, sweat still dripping down his temple. “Can I bribe you to just wheel me around instead?”
“Not a chance.”
He sighed loudly, mock-despair clear in every line of his body, then glanced down at the prosthetic. His hand rested briefly on the socket, as if testing the reality of it. “Guess I better get used to it.”
“You will,” Melissa said simply.
And though he groaned again for effect, there was a flicker in Johnny’s eyes, tired but stubborn, that suggested maybe, just maybe, he believed her.