Chapter Text
Prior to now, if anyone asked Marcus Lampert what his top three ‘toughest but most rewarding experiences’ of his life had been, he would have answered that they would’ve been passing SERE school with the Air Force, proposing to Monica, and watching his daughter’s difficult birth, in that order.
“You’re almost there Marcus, just another two meters to go.”
Being able to finally walk after months of confinement to a wheelchair was just about to beat out the SERE school, though.
“Don’t over-exert yourself, sir.”
“Doctor, do you want me to get the chair ready?”
“Go Shamrock! You can do this!”
Marcus pushed out the chatter from the medical staff and focused on the cheering from his own personal cheer squad, stealing a glance at the young Matilda as she sat beside her mother. The pair had joined him today, serving as both his transport from his apartment to the National Defense Hospital that was a short drive away from Gracemeria Base and as his moral support for his rehabilitation therapy session today.
When he’d ejected from his crippled F-15E Strike Eagle, both Marcus and his WSO had suffered a fair amount of injuries. Unfortunately for him, he’d ended up the worse of the pair: a snapped left femur and dislocated left knee, fractured right and left ankles, cracked sternum, and a partially slipped disk in his lower spine, alongside the typical cuts and bruises one sustained after they ejected violently from a damaged aircraft. His WSO, Andrew ‘Sparky’ Kirby, had gotten out comparatively lighter with only a fractured wrist, dislocated right shoulder, and sprained ankles from a rough landing on the ice.
A series of surgeries and a long amount of time in both a bed and wheelchair, today would be the day to show that he could graduate to crutches. He was lucky to be alive, all things considered. Marcus knew that he’d never fly again; even if he passed medical assessments from the REAF, he’d been warned that the titanium pins in his left leg, while durable, would cause him considerable pain and discomfort under repetitive g-loads.
“Good work! Nurse, if you wouldn’t mind?” Marcus snapped himself out of his head and saw that he’d made it to the end of the fifteen meter long track, each side fitted with a raised bar for him to support himself with. Looking over to where Melissa and Matilda were, he saw that the young girl was on her feet and clapping, while Melissa simply wore a smile herself.
“I’m good Doc, I don’t need a chair.” Marcus said, lifting a hand off one of the bars to wave away the nurse. However, his left leg gave out at that same moment, and he managed to catch himself before he ended up completely on the floor. “You know what, on second thought…