So guess what! All the clues have finally been finalised for Brodie's mysterious crossword and I have posted the puzzle on my deviantART page, a link to which can be found on my FanFiction profile page. Feel free to download it and play along at home! It'll be just like those televised IQ tests!

Chapter 6

The next morning we were all in the kitchen getting ready for the day. The boys were at the table spilling milk all over their placemats while they ate their cheerios. Carlos was at the sink washing our dishes while at the same time making toast for the boys. And I was stood, clutching the bench. My legs were aching from the exertion, and my arms weren't much better. Carlos told me if I could stay upright while he did the dishes he'd have a special surprise for me tonight. Needless to say I was very curious as to what he had in mind and was doing my best to stay upright. It wasn't easy, though, especially when he would loop his arms around my waist every time he passed and place whisper soft kisses along the nape of my neck. Such actions caused my legs to turn to jelly under normal circumstances; now I was reduced to a white knuckle grip on the counter.

"You're doing good, Babe," Carlos informed me as he passed behind me to take the toast to the table.

In those few moments he was not by my side I felt more unstable than I had the entire time I'd been standing there. It was like my legs would give out at any moment. I watched Carlos with a growing sense of urgency to have him back within my reach, he buttered a slice of toast each for Mat and Edi and proceeded to ask them which spread they wanted. Meanwhile, I could feel perspiration beading on my upper lip. My palms were getting sweaty and slippery and I was confident that I was going to land on my ass in a second when Mat looked up, peanut butter spread across his cheeks and grinned.

"Mommy! You're standing!" he exclaimed.

His brother's head snapped up, his eyes coming alive as his piece of toast hung in the air, momentarily forgotten. "Are you better, Mom?" he asked.

Carlos smiled over at me as well and I was struck anew by how much the boys looked like him. Their skin tone was a touch lighter, their hair much curlier, and Mat's eyes were blue, but that smile was the same across all three faces. The hope and encouragement they were projecting my way caused me to screw my courage to the sticking place. I could handle a minute without Carlos in arm's reach. I would walk again, and all the purpose I needed was gathered around that table.

I sent a smile back at my boys – all three of them – and used my new found motivation to straighten just that little bit more before answering Eduardo's question. "I'm not better yet," I said. "But I'm getting there."

"Will you play tag with us soon?" Mat asked excitedly.

"Maybe, one day in a couple of months," I said.

Having finished preparing the boys' toast, Carlos standing behind me, pressed against my back, his hands on either side of my on the counter. "Maybe a little sooner than that if we can keep making sure she practices at home," he informed the boys. "It's like homework for Mommy."

The boys cheered at hearing that Mommy had homework too. They may only be five, but they understood that homework was not something they were supposed to like, so knowing that I had to do some too made it just a little more bearable.

Carlos wrapped his arms around my waist one last time, gently prising my hands off the bench before turning me in his arms. He was still slightly smiling as our eyes met and I knew that the fact that I was finally making progress had him practically dancing on the inside. I'd be almost surprised if he was able to wipe the smile off his face at work today. His gaze lingered on mine, even as he called a command to our children. Most parents give instructions, or ask their kids to do things. Not the Manoso twins. These young boys were direct commands, which they almost always followed, mostly because to disobey was to face family court martial and a court martial could lead to extra chores on weekends. "Finish your toast and go get dressed," he told them firmly. "We leave in fifteen minutes."

I laughed as the boys each shoved half a slice of toast in their mouths, looking a bit like chipmunks as they scurried from the room. The moment their footsteps had faded down the hallway, my husband's lips were on mine, almost startling me. The kiss was firm and full of all the warm encouragement I needed to feel. I was literally melting against him, my legs having gone weak all of a sudden when he pulled back to ask if I could move my legs.

With a small smile and a hazy look in my eyes, I replied, "I don't think I have that much control over them right yet." The chuckle this comment earned me tore away any strength my lower limbs had still possessed and I found myself scooped into the air and carried across the kitchen to where he'd taken my wheelchair. "I'm sorry," I told him.

His eyebrows drew together as he set me down and stood back to meet my eyes. "For what?" he asked, almost suspiciously.

At a loss for words, I simply gestured to my legs where they lay not quite on the footrests off the chair. I tried to gather my strength and move them into place, but it just wasn't working. They just stayed there, defying my orders, even when I made the conscious demands. The frustration that filled me in once again having to remind myself that I couldn't just expect myself to pick up my feet and put them down where they were supposed to go had me almost in tears. There was a burning sensation right behind my eyes and my nose was tingling like it wanted to leak as well. Blinking hard, I sniffed back the snot that threatened to drool out of my nostril, staring down at my useless appendages.

Carlos braced his hands on the arms rests of my wheelchair and leaned down so that our faces were once again mere inches apart, forcing me to look him in the eye. "There is nothing for you to be sorry about, Babe," he reminded me. "You're trying your hardest to get things going again, but it's going to take time. The only reason you're apologising is because you're so frustrated. You want to walk, I understand that, but you can't keep this state of mind up. I'm going to be here to support you no matter what, so no more sorries."

At that moment, I saw how he managed to talk the boys out of their upsets and disappointments. I couldn't quite pinpoint what it was about his speech – maybe his eyes, they always did the trick for me – but it soothed most of my qualms and with a deep breath, I nodded in agreement and brushed the stray lock of hair that had fallen out of his tie, behind his ear. "I should go get ready for work," I announced, and almost ended my words on a squeal as Carlos used his grip on my chair to spin me in a 180 degree turn and push me in the direction of the hall. "You cannot keep doing that," I called over my shoulder as I paused at the entrance to the kitchen, trying to get my heart rate under control.

I could hear the grin in his voice when he replied, "Just another reason for you to work hard at what you're doing."

*o*

I'd wedged myself into Manny's cubicle under the pretence that I needed some advice on how to better monitor the power usage of my iPhone, but in reality, I was hiding. From who, you ask? Why, Robert Brown, of course. Who else? I'd caught a glimpse of a company roster on my way past one of the guys' desks as I rolled through the comm. room this morning and I happened to notice that Bobby was stuck in the office for the afternoon. If he was in the building for the entire afternoon, it meant that there was a very large probability that he would come and find me at some point for a torture session. I know I need his help with the whole walking thing, but he was like... well, okay, now that I thought about it, I realised that it should come as that much of a surprise... but I'm sure the way he treats me in my sessions is a bit like how they treat newbie soldiers in the military.

Maybe I'm just being over sensitive. In fact, I'm pretty sure I am, given the way they treat the new recruits on training days; all screaming in their faces and angry eye. But I just wasn't in the mood to struggle with another task today. Already, I had spent my time staring at Brodie's crossword and typing every possible search request I could think of into Google to try and solve some of the clues. I was pretty sure the effort was starting to make me go cross eyed.

"So once you're in settings," Manny continued, oblivious to the fact that I wasn't paying a cent of attention to him as he flicked, swiped and tapped at the screen in his hands. "You need to go to-."

And that's when I heard it. Four cubicles down, Bobby's voice asked loudly, "Does anyone know where Steph went?"

Manny looked up from my iPhone, his mouth open to call a reply to Bobby, but I shook my head. "Just let me steal another moment or two," I requested. "I'm not ready to go yet." But as I spoke, I felt a presence behind me and Manny's gaze fixed over my shoulder.

"Relax, Angel," Bobby soothed. "No one's going to torture you. I'm just gonna take you downstairs and we're gonna see how long you can stand up for."

I crossed my arms over my chest defiantly, which was a useless action, because with my hands off the wheels and nowhere near the brakes, he could easily just drag me out of the cubicle and down to the gym. But he didn't. "I already stood up today," I told him.

"So I've heard," he responded, and I felt the slight tug as he laid his hands on the grips at the back of my chair.

"So am I exempt from gym today?" I asked hopefully.

"Nope," he responded easily. "Now you have two options: 1) I drag you and the chair down to the gym. 2) I throw you over my shoulder and carry you down to the gym and leave you to find your own way all the way back up here to you chair after I disable the elevators. And 3) –"

"You said I had two options," I pointed out.

"I lied," he said. "Option three is probably your easiest: You come willingly."

Lester chuckled somewhere close by. "Since when does Bombshell ever come willingly?" he asked.

"Good point," Bobby agreed, and proceeded to drag me backwards out of Manny's cubicle. "Option one or two?" he asked.

"Three!" I exclaimed. "I'm coming, okay?"

"That's what I thought," he grinned down at me after spinning me around so that I faced him.

Twenty minutes later I was lost in thought. My legs were once again aching from being used for so long. My arms were shaking. And I was sweating again. I hope this gets easier. I can't tell you exactly how long I had remained upright, but I knew that the longer I stood there the more I wanted to just walk away, which lead to frustration when I remember that my legs were being defiant right now. So I tried to distract myself. I talked with Bobby some about life and the twins and work, but he'd gotten an important phone call and had to step out a few minutes ago. I found myself floundering and with the gym completely empty for the first time in forever, I was left with my uncooperative body and my thoughts to keep me company.

I was puzzling over Brodie's crossword again. Repeating the clues in my head like it would somehow help me come up with an answer.

"What are you thinking about, Steph?" Bobby asked, startling me into almost falling over. I hadn't realised he was back in the room. "You were rolling your eyes and muttering to yourself," he explained as he closed the distance between us. "I'm just curious as to what's on your mind because sometimes these things are all about a mindset. It's like exercise. When I'm in the right frame of mind, I can do jumping jacks with a broken rib."

"Crossword clues," I said simply.

Bobby's brows furrowed at my answer. Clearly he hadn't been expecting that. "Crossword clues?"

"Yeah," I said. "Cryptic ones."

Shaking his head slowly, he asked, "Why are you thinking of cryptic crossword clues?" Adjusting my grip on the frame, I told him about Brodie, his father and the crossword. He appeared to be highly interested in it, because the moment I mentioned that I hadn't actually given it back to him, he asked to see it.

"There's a copy of it in my back pocket," I informed him. "You can just grab it, I don't mind."

He shook his head again. "Not gonna happen, Angel. Ranger catches me touching your ass and I'm dead meat. Besides, I wanna see you reach into your pocket and hand it to me while staying upright." So I did. Slowly. It was easier that I thought it would be to take one hand off the frame, but it didn't stop my balance from wavering a moment. I paused, willing myself to stay upright before grabbing the slip of paper and handing it to Bobby.

After a few minutes of examination, muttered, "Angel."

Thinking he was talking to me, I replied, "Yeah?"

"No," he said. "Fifteen across. It has to be angel."

"How do you figure?" I asked, craning my neck to try and read the clue he mentioned.

"This angle is all messed up," he quoted. "Since it's a cryptic clue, I'm going to take it to mean that the solution is revealed my rearranging the letters in the word angle. The obvious option being switching the e and the l. Angel."

I stared at him for a long moment, still processing his reasoning. It seemed solid enough. "Can I get down now?" I asked.

Bobby checked his watch, his eyes widening. "Yeah," he said quickly. "Sorry, Steph. I didn't realise what the time was." He positioned the wheelchair behind me and helped me ease back down into it. "You did really well today," he said. "I'm proud of the progress you've made in such a short time." There was a short pause before he asked, "Why do you think this kind of thing didn't happen at the centre?"

I shrugged. "Things just feel different since I've been home," I said, which was true, but I'm not sure it was a trigger in my progress. "Plus, you don't take no for an answer."

"Well, neither do you, Angel," he reminded me. "So if you say you're gonna walk again, you're damn well gonna walk again."

"You bet I will," I confirmed. "Now hand me a pen so I can write in fifteen across."

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