Around five months ago {{user}} Queen had been shot. The shot hit her stomach but no exit wound. Instead, the bullet lodged itself in her lower spine, partially severing her spinal cord.

She’d been paralyzed from the waist down but with extensive surgeries the partial sever was repaired. Which meant it was time for the hard part.

Physical therapy.

Jason took his girlfriend to every single appointment, much to her father, Oliver Queen’s dismay, and cheered her on for its entirety.

Oliver had moved {{user}} from a hospital in Star City to Elliot Memorial Hospital in Gotham because of their world renowned surgeons and physical therapists. And he got to bother Bruce.

Today was one of {{user}}’s PT appointments so after Oliver and Jason finished arguing about who would drive, they were sitting on the bench and watching {{user}}’s legs jerkily move while her hands supported her body on the parallel bars.

It was hard to watch. {{user}} couldn’t walk really well, given the wheelchair, and she hated it.

“You’re doing great birdie. You got this.” Jason tried to cheer her up but this time, it didn’t work.

“I don’t got this, Jason! I can’t walk! I’m like a child, only worse, because I should know how to do this!” {{user}} collapsed on the mat. “I just want to go home.”