Chapter 2 - The Reawakening
The rehabilitation was a hell of his own making.
Luca had spent years assuming his muscles had atrophied beyond repair, but the neurologist’s notes were explicit: the pathways were degraded, not severed. It wasn't a matter of growth; it was a matter of forcing the brain to reconnect with the static-filled lines of his nerves.
He moved his training to the private basement gym, where he ordered the staff to install bars and sensory stimulation machines. For the first two weeks, he achieved nothing. His legs were heavy, unresponsive weights that might as well have been made of lead.
But then, he remembered Maya. Dead things don't try.
He started with tactile feedback. He used cold water, heat, and sharp resistance, forcing himself to stare at his shins and command them to move. He would sit for hours, sweating, swearing, and pushing his will into the dead space between his brain and his feet.
On the eighteenth day, a twitch.
It was so small he almost missed it—a microscopic flicker in his right quadriceps.
He didn't call the doctor. He didn't tell Elena. He sat in the silence of the basement and did it again. Twitch.
"You're doing it," a voice whispered from the doorway.
He looked up. Tommy was standing there, his eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and awe. The boy had started coming through the hedge daily, watching Luca with a curiosity that had deepened into a strange, budding loyalty.
"Don't tell anyone," Luca said, his voice straining. "Not Maya. Not your mother. Nobody."
"Why?" Tommy asked, stepping into the room.
"Because in my world," Luca said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a trembling hand, "a man who can walk when everyone thinks he's a cripple is a ghost. And ghosts have the advantage of surprise."
Tommy nodded solemnly, as if this were the most sensible thing he’d ever heard. "I can help. I can keep watch."
"Why would you do that, Tommy?"
"Because," the boy said, picking up a heavy dumbbell and testing its weight, "you didn't get bored of us. And you’re the only guy I know who’s actually trying to fix what’s broken instead of just throwing it away."
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Luca stared at the boy. It was the most profound compliment he’d ever received. "Tommy, help me up."
With the boy's strength acting as a literal pillar, Luca pulled himself toward the parallel bars. His legs wobbled, his knees buckled, and his entire body screamed in protest, but for the first time in twelve years, he was vertical. He was supported, trembling, and entirely off balance, but he was standing.
