"You can do it." Damien encouraged."Do you think bumping into someone in a restaurant will outshine any of the chaos the rest of them will cause today?"
That was the truth of it. Even when Damien had pulled a gun on someone in Time's Square it barely made a ruffle thanks to Aarne releasing hundreds of sex dolls full of helium into the city.
While Dee couldn't exactly argue with that point - that was truth of the highest caliber - it still didn't change the fact that he really didn't want to do it.
"It doesn't have to... to still be... more than I can deal with right now, okay?"
As made evident by the three point turn he was attempting to now execute in 18 jerky moves or less. 19 moves or less. 20...
Damien nodded as he watched but sighed. "I understand the fear. Jack and I are the leaders of a gang, in the middle of a gang war. The kid who owns this chair learned to navigate in hell, maybe she can help you get confident driving later?"
Damien was trying to be sympathetic and shifted because he knew to hold his tongue. Holding his tongue was not his strength. "If you're really too worried to do it yourself, there's a lever tucked under the arm below the joystick. Pulling it shifts the chair to manual. I can push it."
Dee gave up trying to make turning look smooth. He eventually stopped altogether, and just leaned forward, hands dangling between his thin legs. He looked up at the buses, now halfway across the lot, and back down again.
"Look, I know that compared to all of that... this is stupid. I have one of these coming. Not exactly like this, but still... a...a motorized chair. That everyone is going to see me in... probably for the rest of my life... that doesn't mean I have to like it... or want it..."
He sighed, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve.
"I'm... not hungry anymore."
He awkwardly climbed out of the chair. His legs were shaky, but he could still walk, damnit.
"Nobody wants this and nobody likes it. Nobody wants the shit their genetics drop on them." Damien is incredibly serious because, though healthy, Damien has his own genetic demons. "You're preaching to the choir and don't even realize it."
Damien stepped over and offered an arm. "Come on. Let's get breakfast. You're as bad as Jack and he's the person I'd call my brother." Which meant Dee had some leeway with the Dog that others just wouldn't get.
"Look... just... please take the chair back to Choko, I believe that's her name? Tell her I said thank you." He looked away, mumbling. "...but maybe skip all this part?"
He glanced back at the arm, but he didn't take it. Instead, he started walking back to the bus, under his own power.
"Skip what part?" Damien crossed his arms. "That I suggested she come cruise around in her chair with you so you could get better?"
Damien was used to this shit with Jack when they first met. "Where we're from they kill people like you, like her, as children because they are defective. You have no idea what seeing you as an adult in a wheelchair means to that little girl."
Damien would grab Dee if he started to fall but he walked slowly behind the singer. "That's why she agreed to let you use her chair because she's never seen someone make it to be an adult in a chair like hers."
Damien knew well that burden of having people look up to you. At first, Damien didn't want it either but now he wouldn't give up the pups for anything.
"No. I mean the part where I'm just not fucking ready for everyone to stare and automatically assume that I can't do this!" He gestured weakly to the fact that he was actually standing. And waking, albeit slowly and with a generous amount of effort. "Or... or anything else..."
His voice quieted as he listened to Damien talk about what he assumed was the harsh reality of gang life. He didn't know the real truth. But it was shocking, regardless.
And no, he had no idea what it meant to Choko to see him just being alive.
Granted, Dee's condition was different than her's. No one even noticed he was defective until he was halfway through his teens. It wasn't until he bolted at 18 that the timer, and the inevitable decline, really started. Some things, he'd accepted. But some things might always be a struggle.
"She... hasn't?" He stopped. "There really aren't any?"
"You're a rockstar. People already stare and make whatever assumptions they want no matter what you do." Damien sighed heavily to keep his mind clear and calm. "We have a whole book of assumptions people make of all of you to keep you all safe."
Not many knew that existed but rumors and assumptions could be dangerous. Damien came up beside Dee.
"Most children they consider defective are disposed of before their parents ever see them and the penalty for hiding one later is death." Damien wondered how much was safe to say and then frowned but the fact that Jack had three adopted children might mean something entirely different now. "Eugenics is the government policy."
"I get it. I know it sounds stupid. But rockstar assumptions are just... different... somehow."
There were a few that bothered him - like the rumors that he was a drug addict due to the needle marks in his arms prior to getting the port put in. But part of the image of the Prophet was that, despite his frail appearance, he was powerful and not to be underestimated.
Dee didn't feel very much like the Prophet right now.
"This... kind of thing..." he gestured to the chair not all that far behind him, "it just... it makes me really anxious sometimes... and I'm not even from a country where disabilities are, holy shit, illegal..."
God, he hoped they'd never have to play a concert in their hometown...
Damien scoffed because that was ridiculous given Dee lived so close to Rekker. His health was always all over everything. "You're not even the one on this tour whose health is brought up the most. Not even close."
Rekker, Davy, Tom, Ziggy, all the drug addicts and alcoholics, some of the new people Damien didn't have straight yet. Still it was the attitude that prodded at Damien. He's grateful in the moment that Martyn and Rekker had been helping him manage his internal environment.
"It's alright being anxious about change." Damien stopped beside him. "It's not alright to shit on me for offering my expertise to ensure you succeed. I taught a kid to navigate a war zone, if you want to learn that kind of confidence, you know where to find me."
Walking away was what Damien had learned from the others and he was about to disengage from the conversation.
It probably was ridiculous to someone like Damien, even if it made perfect sense inside Dee's own head. Unfortunately, Dee couldn't even begin to fathom the point of view that Damien was coming from, even when he wasn't already worked up like this.
"And you know where to find Choko." He spat unintentionally harshly, before his tone softened again. "Please... just make sure that gets back to her... and nothing happens to it."
That, he meant with the utmost sincerity. The last thing he wanted was for her chair to meet the same fate his old one did. It hurt to know he was disappointing the girl. But the only thing he wanted to do right now was run the fuck away. (Or whatever version of that he could physically manage.)
To Dee's credit, sheer will and stubbornness did get him back to the busses before his legs gave out on him.
He landed sideways on the bus steps, which, honestly, was fine. He didn't give a fuck about the bruise his hip would probably be sporting for the next week. This was fine. He was fine. He was technically ON the bus, even if he wasn't IN the bus. He didn't need help. He didn't want help. Period.
Damien was done. "You tell her. I'm not the one that left her chair in the middle of the lot."
He was about to walk away when he saw Dee fall and as much as he wanted to talk away. He desperately wanted to walk away but he couldn't just leave him on the stairs for a drunk to step on.
He came over and offered a hand. "Come on, get up before the rowdy drunks step on you when they wake up."
"I didn't BRING it here in the first place! That... that was all you!" He spat back.
He honestly didn't know where to even find her. If Damien's intention was to pick him up, and put him back in the chair, Dee would fight back. (Pathetically, mind you. And probably fail. It was a fight he already knew he couldn't win. But he would fight back.)
He meant it when he insisted, "Just leave me alone."
"Because it's my job to make sure everyone here is safe." He motioned at the prone form on the stairs. "...thankfully Aarne picked up the slack last time."
Damien held his hand there and scowled. "And what, hear shit from Jay that I left his fiance half hanging out the bus like a ragdoll?"
Damien took a deep breath. "Just take my hand and stop acting like the idiot that is still standing here is going to walk away because you told me to." Damien rolled his eyes. "You probably think I haven't dealt with the just leave me here to suffer shit either... sorry, Rekker beat you to that too."
Half hanging out was a bit of a stretch. Maybe, if Dee reached out his hand, he could claim a part of him was in the bus. But that was generous. This was only the bottom step.
"Just... return... her fucking chair." He shouted breathily.
"I'm just resting... for a few minutes..." He insisted, knowing full well he was lying. He couldn't even get up those steps on a good day. He'd been working with Minoru on that for weeks and progress was painfully slow. He wasn't sure if there was any progress even happening at all. "If I haven't... gotten back on the bus... by the time you get back... then fine! You can help! But fucking give me that!!"
Damien pulled his hand back and crossed his arms. "No, I am not telling that little girl who looks up to you that you're too fucking .. whatever this is... to use the thing that gives you both independence."
That was the truth and then he let out a heavy breath. "I'd like to go back to bed with my boyfriend if we aren't getting food but unfortunately..." he motioned at Dee. "... there's someone in my way that doesn't want to move."
"Then tell her that you're too... whatever THAT is... to stop and ask if I wanted any help in the first place!"
He doubled down, because this too, was true. "I didn't even want to go out! You're the one who convinced me to try even though I was fucking terrified! And I did, all right? I did! I didn't have to, but I tried and I... I just... I can't think about it anymore right now! But you won't take no for a fucking answer!"
This wasn't Hunger City. This wasn't a life or death situation, but Damien was making it feel like one.
Damien went quiet and stared down at Dee. "You're right. I can't stop because I'm head of security."
If Dee wanted to double down then Damien wasn't going to back away. "All I can fucking think about is what if Aarne was too drunk or busy fucking Joe to be a busybody texting everyone and we lost something more important than your fucking chair in that bar."
Damien rarely raised his voice but the incredible stress inside was getting to him. "Unfortunately, it seems, it is my job to make sure you are all safe even when you're damned thorns in my ass about it."
"Yeah, well in case you haven't noticed, we're all safe!" He shouted, though his voice did soften a little when he added, more quietly, "and making me feel insecure isn't making YOU feel any less insecure either. So why don't you just lay off, okay?"
"Dee, I wish that was true. My job would be easier."
Damien looked down and shook his head. "You're not. You at the bar, Davy's been attacked again, we almost lost Rik and Mikkel to his family not long ago, Rekker opening his wrist, or someone else's face, every few months recently."
Damien sighed and stared at the singer almost sprawled on the ground. "Well, in case you haven't noticed, the reason you can think you're all safe is because someone is your shield all day, every day. While you're laying on the ground yelling at me maybe you should think harder on the name of your drummer and what that means outside of a fantasy realm?"
Damien was about to step right over Dee but instead turned his back and pushed his long hair back. He's stressing out. The pressure here, and back home, and Dee's own 'art' was driving Damien over the edge. Maybe it was what Dee sang about that made him so agitated. It was too close to home and Dee was so blind to it.
"Well, speaking of my fantasy realm, maybe you should stop acting like you belong in the Min..."
Before he could even finish, a voice broke in from atop the bus. "NOPE! Stop right there! BOTH of you, just shut up!"
Minoru hung his head over the edge. Minoru knew his coach very well, and had trained in Hunger City while not actually being a part of it. He knew Damien's methods. He also knew his triggers, and when the stress of keeping everyone alive was getting to him. They didn't talk about it often, but Minoru could read him pretty well.
"Dee, don't you dare even finish that thought! You have no idea how much it's about to hurt!" He shouted firmly. "So take a deep breath. And shut up."
The moment Dee even opened his mouth, Minoru snapped again, "No!"
He jumped off the top of the bus.
"Damien's got a job with really high stakes. Our lives are in his hands. Like it or not, he's got a point when he says learning to use a chair like that would keep you safe. Because it'd get you away from dangerous situations."
Then Minoru turned to his coach.
"Now, I'm only a physical therapist assistant student, not an occupational therapist or anything close. But we still learned about wheelchairs, mobility devices, all that stuff. For a chair like that, there's whole training programs. Recommended time of six months between evaluations."
Minoru already knew a new chair was on its way. He was going to meet with Gloria today, actually, to see what changes they'd need to make to their PT plan. He wasn't an occupational therapist, but he knew he'd have a hand in helping Dee practice in his new chair.
"You didn't expect me to finish the Manhattan Chase rope climb on my first day." He spoke of it like it was a sporting event, so as not to draw too much attention to the harsh reality that people in this world really didn't need to know. "and I already had a lot of training. You can't expect him to be comfortable in a power chair in an hour, especially when he's never been in one before. It's just not possible."
Kuro might sing about a world far too close to home to Damien and the other Pups, but they weren't actually from there. They couldn't be expected to have the same experience and skills.
"Take a break... Go back to bed." Minoru nudged his coach. "I can take the chair back to Choko."
He looked back down at Dee. "And you better rest right there while you can. Because I heard everything you said, and I'm calling you on your bluff. We've been working on stairs for a month and I know exactly how high you can lift your legs. So we're going to climb those. Step by step. I'm going to support you, but you're doing the work."
Damien's golden eyes narrowed and he knew what word is about to come out of Dee's mouth. Minoru can probably see that ebb of rage that gets crushed as soon as it rises.
Minoru wasn't getting the levity though and Damien's eyes turned on Dee. "If you ever finish that sentence about me you will NEVER play on this tour again."
This was serious and Minoru might be trying to stop this argument but Damien was looking to stop any future ones. He had a good grip on his temper, his training to kill, but he's not stupid. Even all his mental and physical control had limits. The Dog is afraid that finishing that sentence might push him over a line he doesn't want to cross any time in this universe.
Damien stayed quiet and stared down Minoru. "You never answered my encouragement by walking off in a huff or treated an offered hand like poison when you fell."
He bit back a lot more because the stress was higher now even thinking about the Ministry. His voice went calm and he addressed both of them. "I wish I could give you months or years or whatever but recent events convince me that we need to move that timeline up as much as we can." He looked at Dee. "Your safety is compromised now that fans know you can get pinned down when you're alone. I don't like it and I know you don't either."
It was all business, sort of kind, mostly nervous and distressed but that command to go to bed had him laughing, sarcastically maybe but it did break that tension a tiny bit. "I will as soon as I can get to the stairs without stepping on someone."
He had a point and though he could, he had no desire in the moment to start climbing all over.
Even Dee shrunk back at that outburst, enough that he fell backwards off the last step. Which, honestly, was a couple of inches off the ground at most. He'd be fine.
Minoru jumped in the now-open space to stand between them. Hands out, he would keep them physically apart if he had to.
"Nope. Never did. You're totally right about that. But I had a pretty good idea what I was getting into when I sought you out to be my coach. You honestly think he'd do what I did? Willingly?"
Minoru glanced over his shoulder, making damn sure Dee kept his mouth shut. Dee, meanwhile, just gulped as he pushed himself up on his elbows. He shook his head no.
He sighed, "I get it. But some timelines just are what they are. You can't rehab an injury any faster than a body heals. You can't always make someone swim by throwing them in the deep end. Sometimes it works, sure. But some of them just drown."
He stepped back off the steps, motioning that the way was definitely clear now.
Damien crossed his arms. "You can't compare a hobby to something needed to survive."
Damien was at least calm now. No more venom or argument. "If we're being honest, the chair gives him more time to rehab his body, not less."
"Damien."
The thick British accent stopped anything more from coming out of the Dog's mouth. Martyn was there looking like he had been shocked for how his curly hair was a mess and the robe all rumpled up. "Get in here before you wake up someone who starts screaming."
Thankfully, for the others, most didn't argue with the Sterlings. He looked down at Dee once Damien was inside. "I think you may benefit from me joining your rehab. I'll find time between all the others."
Martyn sighed because he was supposed to be semi-retired. not doctor to a whole circus of people with mental health needs.
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That was the truth of it. Even when Damien had pulled a gun on someone in Time's Square it barely made a ruffle thanks to Aarne releasing hundreds of sex dolls full of helium into the city.
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"It doesn't have to... to still be... more than I can deal with right now, okay?"
As made evident by the three point turn he was attempting to now execute in 18 jerky moves or less. 19 moves or less. 20...
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Damien was trying to be sympathetic and shifted because he knew to hold his tongue. Holding his tongue was not his strength. "If you're really too worried to do it yourself, there's a lever tucked under the arm below the joystick. Pulling it shifts the chair to manual. I can push it."
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"Look, I know that compared to all of that... this is stupid. I have one of these coming. Not exactly like this, but still... a...a motorized chair. That everyone is going to see me in... probably for the rest of my life... that doesn't mean I have to like it... or want it..."
He sighed, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve.
"I'm... not hungry anymore."
He awkwardly climbed out of the chair. His legs were shaky, but he could still walk, damnit.
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Damien stepped over and offered an arm. "Come on. Let's get breakfast. You're as bad as Jack and he's the person I'd call my brother." Which meant Dee had some leeway with the Dog that others just wouldn't get.
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He glanced back at the arm, but he didn't take it. Instead, he started walking back to the bus, under his own power.
"I'm really not hungry anymore."
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Damien was used to this shit with Jack when they first met. "Where we're from they kill people like you, like her, as children because they are defective. You have no idea what seeing you as an adult in a wheelchair means to that little girl."
Damien would grab Dee if he started to fall but he walked slowly behind the singer. "That's why she agreed to let you use her chair because she's never seen someone make it to be an adult in a chair like hers."
Damien knew well that burden of having people look up to you. At first, Damien didn't want it either but now he wouldn't give up the pups for anything.
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His voice quieted as he listened to Damien talk about what he assumed was the harsh reality of gang life. He didn't know the real truth. But it was shocking, regardless.
And no, he had no idea what it meant to Choko to see him just being alive.
Granted, Dee's condition was different than her's. No one even noticed he was defective until he was halfway through his teens. It wasn't until he bolted at 18 that the timer, and the inevitable decline, really started. Some things, he'd accepted. But some things might always be a struggle.
"She... hasn't?" He stopped. "There really aren't any?"
Adults like her, he meant.
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Not many knew that existed but rumors and assumptions could be dangerous. Damien came up beside Dee.
"Most children they consider defective are disposed of before their parents ever see them and the penalty for hiding one later is death." Damien wondered how much was safe to say and then frowned but the fact that Jack had three adopted children might mean something entirely different now. "Eugenics is the government policy."
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There were a few that bothered him - like the rumors that he was a drug addict due to the needle marks in his arms prior to getting the port put in. But part of the image of the Prophet was that, despite his frail appearance, he was powerful and not to be underestimated.
Dee didn't feel very much like the Prophet right now.
"This... kind of thing..." he gestured to the chair not all that far behind him, "it just... it makes me really anxious sometimes... and I'm not even from a country where disabilities are, holy shit, illegal..."
God, he hoped they'd never have to play a concert in their hometown...
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Rekker, Davy, Tom, Ziggy, all the drug addicts and alcoholics, some of the new people Damien didn't have straight yet. Still it was the attitude that prodded at Damien. He's grateful in the moment that Martyn and Rekker had been helping him manage his internal environment.
"It's alright being anxious about change." Damien stopped beside him. "It's not alright to shit on me for offering my expertise to ensure you succeed. I taught a kid to navigate a war zone, if you want to learn that kind of confidence, you know where to find me."
Walking away was what Damien had learned from the others and he was about to disengage from the conversation.
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"And you know where to find Choko." He spat unintentionally harshly, before his tone softened again. "Please... just make sure that gets back to her... and nothing happens to it."
That, he meant with the utmost sincerity. The last thing he wanted was for her chair to meet the same fate his old one did. It hurt to know he was disappointing the girl. But the only thing he wanted to do right now was run the fuck away. (Or whatever version of that he could physically manage.)
To Dee's credit, sheer will and stubbornness did get him back to the busses before his legs gave out on him.
He landed sideways on the bus steps, which, honestly, was fine. He didn't give a fuck about the bruise his hip would probably be sporting for the next week. This was fine. He was fine. He was technically ON the bus, even if he wasn't IN the bus. He didn't need help. He didn't want help. Period.
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He was about to walk away when he saw Dee fall and as much as he wanted to talk away. He desperately wanted to walk away but he couldn't just leave him on the stairs for a drunk to step on.
He came over and offered a hand. "Come on, get up before the rowdy drunks step on you when they wake up."
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He honestly didn't know where to even find her. If Damien's intention was to pick him up, and put him back in the chair, Dee would fight back. (Pathetically, mind you. And probably fail. It was a fight he already knew he couldn't win. But he would fight back.)
He meant it when he insisted, "Just leave me alone."
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Damien held his hand there and scowled. "And what, hear shit from Jay that I left his fiance half hanging out the bus like a ragdoll?"
Damien took a deep breath. "Just take my hand and stop acting like the idiot that is still standing here is going to walk away because you told me to." Damien rolled his eyes. "You probably think I haven't dealt with the just leave me here to suffer shit either... sorry, Rekker beat you to that too."
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"Just... return... her fucking chair." He shouted breathily.
"I'm just resting... for a few minutes..." He insisted, knowing full well he was lying. He couldn't even get up those steps on a good day. He'd been working with Minoru on that for weeks and progress was painfully slow. He wasn't sure if there was any progress even happening at all. "If I haven't... gotten back on the bus... by the time you get back... then fine! You can help! But fucking give me that!!"
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That was the truth and then he let out a heavy breath. "I'd like to go back to bed with my boyfriend if we aren't getting food but unfortunately..." he motioned at Dee. "... there's someone in my way that doesn't want to move."
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He doubled down, because this too, was true. "I didn't even want to go out! You're the one who convinced me to try even though I was fucking terrified! And I did, all right? I did! I didn't have to, but I tried and I... I just... I can't think about it anymore right now! But you won't take no for a fucking answer!"
This wasn't Hunger City. This wasn't a life or death situation, but Damien was making it feel like one.
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If Dee wanted to double down then Damien wasn't going to back away. "All I can fucking think about is what if Aarne was too drunk or busy fucking Joe to be a busybody texting everyone and we lost something more important than your fucking chair in that bar."
Damien rarely raised his voice but the incredible stress inside was getting to him. "Unfortunately, it seems, it is my job to make sure you are all safe even when you're damned thorns in my ass about it."
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Damien looked down and shook his head. "You're not. You at the bar, Davy's been attacked again, we almost lost Rik and Mikkel to his family not long ago, Rekker opening his wrist, or someone else's face, every few months recently."
Damien sighed and stared at the singer almost sprawled on the ground. "Well, in case you haven't noticed, the reason you can think you're all safe is because someone is your shield all day, every day. While you're laying on the ground yelling at me maybe you should think harder on the name of your drummer and what that means outside of a fantasy realm?"
Damien was about to step right over Dee but instead turned his back and pushed his long hair back. He's stressing out. The pressure here, and back home, and Dee's own 'art' was driving Damien over the edge. Maybe it was what Dee sang about that made him so agitated. It was too close to home and Dee was so blind to it.
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Before he could even finish, a voice broke in from atop the bus. "NOPE! Stop right there! BOTH of you, just shut up!"
Minoru hung his head over the edge. Minoru knew his coach very well, and had trained in Hunger City while not actually being a part of it. He knew Damien's methods. He also knew his triggers, and when the stress of keeping everyone alive was getting to him. They didn't talk about it often, but Minoru could read him pretty well.
"Dee, don't you dare even finish that thought! You have no idea how much it's about to hurt!" He shouted firmly. "So take a deep breath. And shut up."
The moment Dee even opened his mouth, Minoru snapped again, "No!"
He jumped off the top of the bus.
"Damien's got a job with really high stakes. Our lives are in his hands. Like it or not, he's got a point when he says learning to use a chair like that would keep you safe. Because it'd get you away from dangerous situations."
Then Minoru turned to his coach.
"Now, I'm only a physical therapist assistant student, not an occupational therapist or anything close. But we still learned about wheelchairs, mobility devices, all that stuff. For a chair like that, there's whole training programs. Recommended time of six months between evaluations."
Minoru already knew a new chair was on its way. He was going to meet with Gloria today, actually, to see what changes they'd need to make to their PT plan. He wasn't an occupational therapist, but he knew he'd have a hand in helping Dee practice in his new chair.
"You didn't expect me to finish the Manhattan Chase rope climb on my first day." He spoke of it like it was a sporting event, so as not to draw too much attention to the harsh reality that people in this world really didn't need to know. "and I already had a lot of training. You can't expect him to be comfortable in a power chair in an hour, especially when he's never been in one before. It's just not possible."
Kuro might sing about a world far too close to home to Damien and the other Pups, but they weren't actually from there. They couldn't be expected to have the same experience and skills.
"Take a break... Go back to bed." Minoru nudged his coach. "I can take the chair back to Choko."
He looked back down at Dee. "And you better rest right there while you can. Because I heard everything you said, and I'm calling you on your bluff. We've been working on stairs for a month and I know exactly how high you can lift your legs. So we're going to climb those. Step by step. I'm going to support you, but you're doing the work."
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Minoru wasn't getting the levity though and Damien's eyes turned on Dee. "If you ever finish that sentence about me you will NEVER play on this tour again."
This was serious and Minoru might be trying to stop this argument but Damien was looking to stop any future ones. He had a good grip on his temper, his training to kill, but he's not stupid. Even all his mental and physical control had limits. The Dog is afraid that finishing that sentence might push him over a line he doesn't want to cross any time in this universe.
Damien stayed quiet and stared down Minoru. "You never answered my encouragement by walking off in a huff or treated an offered hand like poison when you fell."
He bit back a lot more because the stress was higher now even thinking about the Ministry. His voice went calm and he addressed both of them. "I wish I could give you months or years or whatever but recent events convince me that we need to move that timeline up as much as we can." He looked at Dee. "Your safety is compromised now that fans know you can get pinned down when you're alone. I don't like it and I know you don't either."
It was all business, sort of kind, mostly nervous and distressed but that command to go to bed had him laughing, sarcastically maybe but it did break that tension a tiny bit. "I will as soon as I can get to the stairs without stepping on someone."
He had a point and though he could, he had no desire in the moment to start climbing all over.
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Minoru jumped in the now-open space to stand between them. Hands out, he would keep them physically apart if he had to.
"Nope. Never did. You're totally right about that. But I had a pretty good idea what I was getting into when I sought you out to be my coach. You honestly think he'd do what I did? Willingly?"
Minoru glanced over his shoulder, making damn sure Dee kept his mouth shut. Dee, meanwhile, just gulped as he pushed himself up on his elbows. He shook his head no.
He sighed, "I get it. But some timelines just are what they are. You can't rehab an injury any faster than a body heals. You can't always make someone swim by throwing them in the deep end. Sometimes it works, sure. But some of them just drown."
He stepped back off the steps, motioning that the way was definitely clear now.
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Damien was at least calm now. No more venom or argument. "If we're being honest, the chair gives him more time to rehab his body, not less."
"Damien."
The thick British accent stopped anything more from coming out of the Dog's mouth. Martyn was there looking like he had been shocked for how his curly hair was a mess and the robe all rumpled up. "Get in here before you wake up someone who starts screaming."
Thankfully, for the others, most didn't argue with the Sterlings. He looked down at Dee once Damien was inside. "I think you may benefit from me joining your rehab. I'll find time between all the others."
Martyn sighed because he was supposed to be semi-retired. not doctor to a whole circus of people with mental health needs.
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