"Okay, how does that feel?" The prosthetist asked as he finished adjusting the prosthetic sock on Beca's residual limbs.
Beca placed her hand on her stumps, rubbing up and down along the socks and nodded her head a couple of times.
"Good, I think. I mean I've never worn these before so I'm not sure how they're supposed to feel," she replied with a shrug of her left shoulder.
The prosthetist gave her a look that said 'touché' and chuckled a little as he placed his hand at the band of the sock on one of her limbs.
"The sock should be comfortable. It should be just tight enough that it stays situated. If it's sliding up and down when wearing a prosthesis, it'll irritate your skin and make the prosthesis uncomfortable," he explained as he slipped his finger under the band and stretched it a little to indicate that there was just enough give for it to be slipped on and off.
"At the same time, it needs to be breathable. You don't want it to be too tight or it will cause problems with the circulation in your stump,"
He lifted the band again to show Beca that the indentation from the elastic around the opening wasn't too visible, indicating that it was applying just the right amount of hold to stay in place on her stump.
The solider nodded her head and gave herself a moment to really take in and register the feeling of the socks on her stumps, rubbing them again for good measure before gazing up at the doctor.
"They feel good," she said as the prosthetist gave her a thumbs up.
"Great. If you find that they become uncomfortable or they're not performing well with the prosthetics we can always change and get some that are better sized."
As Beca nodded, the doctor rolled his seat away from where the soldier was seated on the edge of the examination table and grabbed a hold of one of the prosthetics that was similar in design to what Beca would eventually be using.
He lifted it up in front of him with both hands and began manoeuvring it about so Beca could get a better view of it.
"This right here, is the crème de la crème of prosthetics. It has built in technology to give you the best range of motion you could possibly have."
As he spoke, he turned towards his laptop and began pressing a few buttons, hitting play on a video as he swung it round for the soldier to get a better view.
It was a demonstration video, showing the range of motion and quality of the prosthesis. It was pretty impressive if Beca were being honest. Prosthetics had really come a long way in design and mobility.
They would never give Beca back her legs completely, but maybe, just maybe, she could learn to adapt to these new ones.
Once the video was done, they dove right into getting familiar with the sensation of wearing a prosthesis while the prosthetist took some measurements to ensure that Beca's own artificial limbs would be fitted just for her.
The only thing Beca was adamant about was retaining her natural height. She didn't want to be taller and she definitely didn't want to be shorter, she just wanted to retain some semblance of normalcy.
After adding the information to his notes, the doctor left the room for a moment and returned with a physio to help with the next part of the examination.
Placing Beca in two prosthetic legs, the physio and the prosthetist helped her to stand up to become acquainted with the sensation of the new limbs.
To say the feeling was weird would be an understatement. While her brain could register that she was standing, everything from just above where her knee should be down felt foreign to her. Like she was walking using someone else's legs.
The doctor knew by her facial expressions the internal discussion going on inside her own head.
"Don't worry, that out of body sensation you're getting right now will fade the more you get used to them."
Placing her in a wheelchair the physio wheeled her over to the balancing beams the opposite side of the room and situated her at the end of the handrails. Helping her to a standing position, he moved the wheelchair back and then stood directly behind her, placing a thick band around Beca's middle and holding the ends of it behind her to help with her balance.
As Beca leaned her weight on the handrails the doctor, got down on his knees and began demonstrating the flexibility in the prosthetics, talking Beca through how her balance would play a essential roll in how they worked.
They manoeuvred their way through the range of motion for a couple of minutes to better understand how the technology worked to make the knee bend and straighten like a normal leg would.
As they continued through the demonstration, one of the double doors into the room opened to reveal Chloe entering the room. The redhead was dressed down in a simple oversized crew neck sweatshirt and jeans, a pair of converse on her feet, her wavy hair tied back in a ponytail with some loose tendrils framing her face.
"What do you think? Do I rock titanium?" Beca asked, as the physio lowered her back down into the wheelchair.
A smile made its way across Chloe's face at the comment. Little quick remarks like that had slowly been creeping back into Beca's day to day life, reminding Chloe of the sarcastic, quick witted woman who had left for Afghanistan over 2 years ago.
It helped to soften the blow of the often times quick tempered and emotional Beca who was struggling through the mental pain of PTSD.
The soldier didn't mean to lash out, she don't mean to become overwhelmed by the feelings inside of her, but as had been explained by the counsellor, it was her body's natural reaction to trauma.
Having been subjected to extreme torture and forced to suppress her emotions in order to survive, all of those feelings of pent up anger, frustration, fear and pain were making themselves known in ways neither Beca nor Chloe expected.
In the blink of an eye Beca could go from being perfectly fine to snapping at the smallest of things. She could go from telling a joke to crying her eyes out.
All of those mood swings were a normal reaction and the counsellor had been working closely with Beca to help her navigate that particular landmine, teaching her ways to pass through them to get to the other side in as healthy a way as possible.
She had been prescribed anti depressant and anti anxiety medications as well as medications to help her with her sleep. Chloe could tell Beca's initial instinct had been to refuse them or to cope without them. Her military brain kicking into gear.
However Beca's own father, a veteran himself, had been quick to remind her that struggling with mental health and PTSD hadn't been kind to soldiers in the past and was continuing to cause great suffering and pain to this day.
"What's the point of winning the battle just to lose the war?" Had been his parting words the day before he and Beca's mother returned home after visiting for several weeks.
The very next morning, Chloe had watched on as Beca picked up the medications next to her bed and, unprompted, consumed them along with a glass of water.
The physio left the room and the prosthetist made his way into his office just off the examination room to file away his paperwork, leaving both women on their own for a few moments.
"I think you more than rock titanium," Chloe smiled as she crouched down on her haunches in front of Beca, eyes taking in the prosthetic limbs exposed to public view by Beca's shorts.
It was an adjustment to her minds eye to say the least, mainly because she could still vividly remember how Beca looked before and could remember all those mornings they had woken up with their legs entangled basking in the early morning glow.
It was an adjustment, but one Chloe was more than willing to adjust to, because the alternative was not having Beca in her life at all and having lived through that once, she didn't want to live though it again.
"Alright," came the voice of the doctor, interrupting their little chat as he adjusted his rolled up sleeves.
"In six weeks time your prosthetics should be ready and we can begin the next chapter of the journey," he said, placing his hands on hips.
"The physio will keep working with you on your posture and range of movement in the mean time to get your balance in check and then once the prosthetics arrive, we'll work on getting you back on your feet."
Beca thanked him and Chloe stood by as the doctor removed the temporary prosthetics but left the socks in place. Once he was done, Chloe helped wheel Beca back to her room.
Being moved to a ward specifically for soldiers being rehabilitated had made life a little easier for both women. Beca was able to receive more visitors while also maintaining her post ICU care.
Reaching her room, they buzzed a nurse to help Beca transition from her chair to her bed and once she was gone, Chloe wheeled over the table at the foot of the bed to reveal a brown paper bag.
"What's this?" Beca asked as Chloe adjusted the height of the table.
"Mexican," the redhead beamed, as she pulled out some Taco's, chips and dips and drinks.
Beca's eyes lit up at the mention of her favourite food and Chloe's insides melted at seeing Beca genuinely eager to eat something more than a smoothie or soup.
While her appetite had been growing, her ability to consume larger quantities of food was still a struggle. Her body was still adjusting to normal food portions and eating more than one meal a day.
Chloe had taken to treating Beca to some of her favourite dishes whenever she had a really good week and nothing brought a smile to the soldiers face quicker than a taco. Beca was getting there, it was just going to take time to get back to normal eating habits after two years of near starvation.
Her body had adapted in order to survive, now it needed to learn to adapt to healthier more nutritional routines.
As they ate their tacos in between general chit chat, Chloe could tell something was on Beca's mind, something that was bothering her, but she didn't want to push her into talking. Just trusted that when she was ready, Beca would open up.
"The um, the military want us to testify against Chicago," Beca finally said, placing down the bit of taco she had been holding and looking to Chloe for a reaction.
The redhead, placed down her own food, wiping her mouth with a tissue as she gave Beca her full attention.
"How do you feel about that?" She asked, knowing Beca had been putting everything other than her recovery to the back of her mind. She shrugged.
"I don't know. They…. They think that if we explain our experience of what we went through, that it would make it next to impossible for him to get off," Beca explained. Chloe regarded her for a moment.
"What do you wanna do?" She asked, letting Beca know she would support her decision. Beca inhaled a deep breath through her nose and released it.
"I don't know Chlo. I want him to be punished but…. I just, I don't know if I can control myself," Beca said shaking her head and Chloe's brow furrowed as she waited for her to continue.
"I hate him Chlo. Every time I think about what's happened I just, I get so angry that I feel like I'm not in control of my own body," Beca raged, her chucks flushed red in anger.
"Everything about him makes me sick to my stomach. He was my friend, a soldier and he left us there to die like a coward," Beca cried.
Watching Beca unravel was a gut punch to Chloe as she heard the soldier acknowledge Chicago for the very first time since returning home. Seeing the hurt, the anger on the soldiers face, it caused a wave of nausea and despair to well up inside of her.
"Bec's…. I," Chloe started to shakily say only for a knock at the door to interrupt.
"Delivery for Captain Mitchell," came the voice of Jesse Swanson as he stepped into the room, a large teddy bear and a goodie bag full of movies and treats in hand.
"C'mon admit it, you missed me," he joked and Beca wiped away the lone tear that had escaped her as she rolled her eyes at her friend and former fellow soldier, the man having left the army after three tours to start his own family.
"It's good to see you Swanson," Beca said with a smile and the man grinned as he tipped his head at her.
"Believe me when I say, it's even better to see you."
As the former colleagues reacquainted themselves, Chloe sat back silently and replayed everything Beca had said in the moments prior, briefly pulling herself out of her own head to engage the others where necessary.
The more she thought about what Beca said, the more her appetite began to vanish. Things just got a whole lot more complicated now that she knew of the depth of Beca's feelings about Chicago's betrayal….