Several weeks passed before Joe was allowed to leave the hospital. His injuries weren't quite as severe as they had feared. Some feeling had returned to his lower half and the doctors thought he would be able to walk again, but it would take months of physiotherapy. In the meantime Graham had turned up with a state-of-the-art electric wheelchair which whizzed around at the touch of a button.

"How come Dad never had an electric wheelchair?" Joe asked Zoe, while experimenting with the chair's settings.

"He didn't want one."

"Oh." Joe stopped playing with the buttons and sat still.

"Are you ready?" asked Graham. "The car's outside..."

"Yeah, okay," said Joe. He felt strangely nervous about going back to Home Farm. Graham would be there with him, and Zoe had been staying there since her arrival in Emmerdale too. Jean was being looked after by a neighbour back in New Zealand.

"Have we got everything?" Zoe looked around the room. Her eyes fell on the leaflets Joe had been given by the doctors.

Joe stuffed the leaflets into his open bag. "Just give me a minute."

"We'll put your things in the car," said Graham.

Joe nodded. Graham and Zoe left him alone for a few minutes while he looked around and took a deep breath.

...

1999

"Daddy, why are you always in that chair?"

Chris looked up from the paperwork he was in the middle of. His son was playing with his train set on the floor of the Home Farm living room, his nanny Claudia having taken the day off.

As Joseph looked up expectantly, Chris cleared his throat. He'd always known he would have to have this conversation eventually, he just hadn't expected it today.

"Daddy was in an accident," he explained. "You know how trains can crash sometimes?" Joseph nodded. "Well, a plane crashed, into the village. And Daddy was hurt, and couldn't walk anymore. So he has to use this chair to get around."

"Does it still hurt?" Joseph asked, looking concerned.

"No, not anymore."

"Do other daddies have chairs?" Joseph returned to his train set, building a bridge for the blue train to go over.

"Some do. Most don't."

"Will I have a chair, when I'm grown up?"

"No," said Chris firmly. "It's not genetic..." Joseph looked confused. "I mean, it's not something you'll get from me. It was just an accident. It won't happen to you."

"Oh, okay." Joseph seemed to consider this. "Do you like your chair?"

On some days, Chris would say no, he hated it, his heart sunk every morning when he woke up knowing that he had another day in that thing. Looking into his son's innocent blue eyes now though, he said, "My chair helps me get around, and it means I can look after you, so yes, I like it." He paused, knowing it was selfish to ask. "Do you mind Daddy being in a chair?"

"No." Joseph shook his head. "Not if it helps you." He suddenly sounded older than his four years.

Chris smiled. "So you wouldn't want a different Daddy?" he asked, keeping his voice light, slightly afraid of the answer.

"No. You're my Daddy."

Chris nodded, a lump in his throat as he watched Joseph continue to play, making "choo, choo," noises.

"What are you two up to?" asked Zoe as she entered the room, looking from her brother at his desk to her nephew playing on the floor.

"Playing trains, Auntie Zoe," said Joseph solemnly.

"Did you build that track? You clever boy!" Zoe cooed as she ruffled Joseph's hair.

"When I grow up I'm going to have a hollage company, like Daddy," said Joseph cheerfully. "With lots of trucks..."

Chris was still watching his son. "Do you want me to take Joseph for the afternoon?" Zoe asked him. "You must have a lot of work to do..."

Chris glanced down at his paperwork. "Nah." He pushed it aside. "Let's all go out somewhere."

"Can we go to the park?" Joseph asked immediately.

"Yeah, why not? Auntie Zoe can push you on the swings."

"Yeah!" Joseph ran to get his coat, leaving his train set carefully arranged on the carpet.

"Are you feeling alright?" Zoe asked Chris.

"Of course. Let's go."

...

They arrived back at Home Farm, Joe looking out of the window as the car pulled up. Then began the process of Joe moving from the car to his wheelchair, assisted by Graham. "Thanks," he mumbled.

Once inside, Graham went to make a pot of tea and Zoe took Joe's bags upstairs while Joe manoeuvred his chair through the house. He glanced at his exercise equipment, then looked away again. Finally he moved into the living room and settled next to the sofa.

Zoe had to do a double take when she entered the room to see Joe sitting in his chair, looking uncannily like his father. Joe looked at her. "What?"

"Nothing." Zoe sat down on the sofa next to him. Joe picked up a framed photo from the nearby table, of Chris holding a young Joseph up in his arms, and stared at it.

The doorbell rang while Graham was still in the kitchen. "I'll get it," Zoe called as she got up and went into the hall. She opened the front door to find Debbie standing there. The girl had been a teenager the last time Zoe saw her, but she still recognised her, from her resemblance to Charity if nothing else.

"Zoe," said Debbie uncertainly. "Noah said Joe was home..."

"Come on in." Zoe held the door open for her.

"Thanks." Debbie stepped gingerly into the hall. Zoe led her through to the living room where Joe was still looking at his father's photo.

"You've got a visitor."

"Hi," said Debbie.

"Hi," replied Joe.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Zoe asked Debbie.

"No thanks, I won't stay long."

"I'll leave you two to talk." Zoe departed, shutting the door behind her.

"I just wanted to see how you are," said Debbie.

"Yes, you've obviously been overflowing with concern." Joe looked off into the distance. "All those trips to the hospital..."

Debbie winced. "I'm sorry I didn't come to see you. I thought you would want to be left alone."

"A friend would have been nice."

"You've had Noah, and Graham, and Zoe..."

"Yeah." Joe looked down at his chair and put the photo down.

"So how long do they think..." Debbie gestured at the chair.

"They don't know. Could be weeks, could be months."

"I'm sorry, Joe."

"Why?" Joe asked. "Isn't this what you wanted? For me to be badly hurt?"

"I didn't," Debbie whispered. "Not really. I was just angry, and Simon..."

"You told him to mess me up. If Ross hadn't stolen my car I'd have been the one covered in acid. He was screaming, when we found him. If Graham hadn't been there—"

"Joe, don't!" Debbie's lips trembled.

"Don't what? Who do you think got the better deal, me or Ross?"

"You can't blame me for you jumping into that quarry."

"No, but I don't have to take your pity either. Not when this is what you wanted to begin with." Joe pointed at the door. "Get out."

"Joe—"

"Leave!"

Debbie nodded and left silently, tears running down her face.