Chapter Text
“Hi, Techno, are you ready to get started?”
He doesn’t think he wants to. He shrugs, staring at the floor.
“Hey,” Puffy says gently, squatting in front of him. “I know this is all really different from what you’re used to. I know it’s gonna be really hard, I know I’m asking you to do a lot. But this is what you have to do if you want to be able to take care of yourself.”
He does want that, really, he just… he didn’t know it would all be so hard. Even just the exercises Puffy had him do last time were really hard, and he knows he was bad at a lot of them even though Puffy didn’t say so.
And- and he does want to be able to take care of himself. To get around on his own, and get in and out of his wheelchair by himself, and all that. It would be nice.
“I know,” he whispers. “I just- I dunno.”
“Are you in pain?” Puffy asks gently.
The answer is yes. He’s always in pain. His back hurts, right near the bottom of his spine (his lumbar vertebrae, he remembers his parents saying; that’s where his spinal damage is), and his hips ache, and he sometimes gets pressure sores if his parents don’t shift him around enough.
But that’s not-
“That’s not the problem,” he whimpers.
“Okay, so, what is?”
He kind of doesn’t want to answer. But they- they keep saying Puffy’s here to help him, and how is she supposed to do that if Techno doesn’t talk to her?
“All- all that stuff you asked me to do,” he whispers. “It- I wasn’t good at any of it. I couldn’t do anything.”
“Hmm.” Puffy clasps her hands in front of her. “Well, it’s true that you do have a long way to go. But that isn’t your fault, Techno. All of this stuff, it takes practice. It takes more work and more practice for someone with spina bifida, like you and Wilbur. There’s nothing wrong with that, and it’s not your fault- this is the way you were born, and you couldn’t have done anything about that.”
He keeps staring at his hands in his lap. “I… I guess.”
“Techno.” Puffy shifts closer, so he has to look up at her. “Whatever is going through your head, I want you to know something. You are not weak.”
Techno’s breath shudders in his chest. He- he is, though. He knows he is. He can’t walk, he can barely move his legs at all, his arms get so tired-
“You’re not weak,” Puffy repeats, “and you are not broken, and you have nothing to be ashamed of. You just need some help. I am here to help you. And it is not your fault that you weren’t taught how to do these things, or that your muscles aren’t strong enough yet.”
“Or- or that I’m too clumsy?” He knows he is. Puffy had him try to do up some buttons, and put together a puzzle, and Techno couldn’t quite do it. His fingers just kind of fumbled and slid around uselessly.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Puffy asks, with a kind of mischievous little smile. “The first time I had an evaluation with Wilbur, he knocked over the cups of beads he was supposed to be sorting. I had to spend five minutes picking them all up.”
Techno almost laughs a little bit. “So- so it’s okay then? That I’m not- that I’m so bad at all of it?”
“You’re not ‘bad’ at anything I’ve asked you to do, Techno. It’s true that you have a long ways to go, a lot of progress to make, but there’s nothing wrong with that. There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“But- but there is. There’s something wrong with my spine, that’s why I need so much help and why my parents had to do all those surgeries.”
“You’re just different, Techno.” Puffy holds out her hands, and after a second, Techno takes them. “You’re just different,” she repeats gently, quietly, “and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Dad!” Wilbur calls.
Techno huffs, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Every time he thinks he’s going to finally fall asleep-
“Yeah?”
“Can you come help me in the bathroom?”
“Two seconds!”
Techno lets his hands fall back to his sides, staring at the ceiling. Upset, exhausted tears burn in his eyes. He’s so tired.
And- and it’s not even bedtime yet. He’s just worn out from doing all that stuff with Puffy earlier- he hasn’t even had dinner yet.
Techno would never feel like this at home, with his parents. He’d either sit and stare at nothing until he got too tired and dozed off, or his mom would sedate him, or his dad would give him medication that made him feel sicker and he would pass out.
But not here. Here, the people moving around the apartment are too loud, and he keeps jolting awake, and he’s so incredibly tired but he can’t seem to keep his eyes closed.
Something crashes, and there’s an exasperated sigh, a shout of Tommy! and Techno slams his fists down on the mattress on either side of him, face screwing up and angry tears running down his cheeks.
He just- wants- to- sleep.
“-know that was gross, thanks Dad-”
“It’s a natural bodily process, mate, and it’s nothing I haven’t done dozens of times. I’m always glad to help.” Phil’s voice gets louder. “How close are we on dinner?”
“Five minutes,” Kristin says, kind of loudly.
Techno clenches his jaw. He’s so tired, he’s so tired, and he can’t-
“Great, I’m gonna look in on Techno!”
He blinks harder, trying to stop crying, but he can’t. He’s just laying there, tears running down his face into his ears, when the door opens and Phil comes in.
“Techno?” he asks, softly, which is weird cause he certainly wasn’t trying to be quiet a minute ago. “Are you- oh. Oh, hey, what’s wrong mate?”
Techno sobs, pressing his hands over his ears. “You’re all so-o loud,” he hiccups. “You’re so l- lo-oud an’ I can’t sleep an’ I’m s- s- so tired.”
He sobs again, raw and harsh and so, so, so exhausted. Phil comes in, sitting down on the edge of the bed and gently brushing his hair back. He just sits there, smoothing Techno’s hair, until Techno can’t cry anymore.
“I’m sorry,” Phil murmurs then, very quietly. “I’ll go get everybody to be quiet so you can sleep.”
“I’m so-o tired,” Techno whimpers.
“I know. I know, I’m sorry, mate.”
Phil shifts him around so Techno is laying on his side. It’s more comfortable like that, kind of. And Phil lays a heavy blanket over him, and gives him his polar bear stuffie.
He goes out, closing the door all the way. He says something, but it’s so quiet Techno can’t really hear.
Finally, finally, he thinks he can go to sleep.
After another session with Puffy, where Techno manages to hold himself out of his wheelchair for a few seconds longer than the last one (she tells him so, beaming and clapping like he’s done some incredible thing) he lays in his bed in his room in Phil’s family’s house to think.
His parents love him. That’s something Techno is pretty sure is true. He’s not positive, because- because the way Phil and Kristin treat Wilbur and Tommy, Wilbur especially, is a lot different from how Techno’s parents treated him.
He knows they were busy. They were always busy trying to fix him, so he could walk someday. But Phil told him they never would’ve been able to fix his spine, no matter what they tried. And Puffy is teaching him all this stuff and helping him get stronger so he can use crutches to walk, someday, like Wilbur does. His parents were busy, that’s why they couldn’t teach him things he needed to know.
But they- they should have. That’s what Phil keeps saying, that his parents should’ve taught him all of this stuff.
He doesn’t understand why they didn’t.
Because Techno’s parents love him. They do. They- they have to, right?
“Phil?”
Phil barely glances over his shoulder when Techno speaks- but, well, he’s making dinner, so it’s fine, Techno supposes. “Yeah, mate?”
“My mom and dad love me, right?”
Phil freezes. For a few minutes, he just stands there and doesn’t say anything. Techno swallows, feeling kind of sick.
“Why- why do you ask?” Phil asks after a second, still not turning to look at him.
Techno fidgets with the bottom of his shirt. “Cause… I don’t know,” he whispers. “I- I think they love me. They- they have to, right? Cause they’re my parents. So. They must love me, right?”
Phil turns around, comes over to sit at the table beside him. “Techno,” he says after a minute, “can you tell me what you think loving someone means?”
“Well, it…” He frowns. He doesn’t know why Phil’s asking him that. “It means… taking care of them? I guess?”
“And your parents did that for you?”
Techno frowns. “I mean- yeah. Of course!”
It feels like telling a lie, but Techno doesn’t want to think about that.
“Okay…” Phil shifts. “What do you think me loving my children looks like?”
Techno looks away. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he mutters.
Because Phil- Phil doesn’t just ‘take care’ of Wilbur and Tommy. He plays with them, and tucks them in at night, and apparently spent a lot of time learning how to take care of Wilbur when Wilbur was sick when he was younger. Phil always has time for them, even when he looks like he’s busy.
“I know,” Phil says. “I know it’s so, so hard, Tech. And I’m so sorry. But I think you know what the answer to your question is.”
Techno shakes his head, useless denial. “No. No, they-” His breath hitches. “They- they love me. They do.”
Phil just looks at him. Techno’s breath hitches again, tears running down his face.
“They- they- they-” He sobs, covering his face with his hands. He doesn’t see Phil move as much as feels it, the soft thud on the floor and arms wrapping around him and Phil hugging him so, so tightly.
Techno just tries to hold on.
~~~
When Techno’s sobs die down, Phil leans back slightly. Pulls the sleeve of his sweater down over the heel of his hand, using the soft material to dry Techno’s tears.
He is still so, so young. He is hurting so very much, and Phil knows there’s no way to take this pain away or make it easier to bear.
“Why don’t they love me?” Techno whimpers, gripping Phil’s sweater.
“I don’t know,” Phil murmurs. “I wish I had an answer for you, honey, but I don’t. Some people… just don’t know how to be parents.”
Techno just clings to him, holding on so desperately, like he’s never been hugged in his life. He probably hasn’t been, the closest thing to it that Phil’s seen those brief moments of gentle contact when he or Kristin moves Techno out of his chair or back into it.
He’s so young. He deserves so, so much better.
The next morning, while Techno’s still sleeping, Phil pays another visit to the prisoners in the basement.
Techno’s parents are still locked in their cells. Still receiving the same treatment as before. The Syndicate has been keeping an eye out, but no one has reported them missing or tried to contact them. They’re alone.
Phil’s glad of it, in a way. As heartbreaking as it is that they are Techno’s only family, that he has no one else looking out for him, Phil doesn’t want to give him up.
And besides, isn’t it better this way? For Techno to be with them, people he knows and trusts, people who have the experience to take care of him, than for him to go off to strange relatives who may not know how to care for a child with spina bifida and all of the complications that come with it. Here, Techno can receive prompt medical care when he needs it; here, he can get his physical and occupational therapy in an environment he’s already comfortable in.
“Phil.” Sam looks up from his computer as Phil steps into the office. “What do you need?”
“Just looking in on his parents.”
Sam raises one eyebrow. “I think you know I can’t let you see them, after last time.”
“Sam-”
“Phil.” Sam just stares at him with that same flat look.
His composure crumbles. “They’re fucking monsters. Why are we still acting like-”
“Because they’re his parents. Because they’re still human beings.”
“I’ll stay out of sight,” Phil says. He just has to ask. He has to know. “I just- I just need to ask them some questions. Please, Sam.”
Finally the other man softens. “Ten minutes,” he says. “Try to keep it civil.”
Phil goes down the hall to lean against the wall near the woman’s cell, out of sight.
“What the hell is it now?” Cassandra Blade snaps.
Phil rests his head back against the wall. He can only see Techno, small and shaking and scared in his arms last night. Can only hear his voice begging why don’t they love me, crying out for an answer Phil can’t provide. An answer he knows these people will not be able to give him- not anything satisfying, anyway.
“Why don’t you love your son?” he asks, after a few minutes of silence.
“Fuck you,” she spits.
“No, I don’t understand. How- how can you give birth to a child and not love them?”
“You have no right to insinuate that I don’t love him-”
“He doesn’t understand, either. He’s hurting so, so much because he doesn’t understand why you don’t love him.”
“It’s not my fault if he doesn’t understand that. I only ever did what was best for him-”
“No, you hurt him. You operated on him, without anesthesia, more times than he can remember. You performed surgeries you had to know would never help him.”
“I had to try,” she spits. “You have no clue what it’s like, having a child like that. Being told he’ll never live normally- we did what we had to do.”
“I understand completely,” Phil says. Not harsh and angry, this time. “My oldest son was born with myelomeningocele. L3 to L4. We spent years running after each treatment and surgery we thought could help him.”
“So then you know. You know how desperate it can make a parent-”
“I do know.” Phil knows all too well. Remembers, all too clearly, how afraid they were of what their son’s life would look like. What kind of future he could possibly have, with the doctors telling them how much medical care he would need, if he were even to live long enough to be born at all. If he could survive after birth, with how high the potential for complications was.
The first doctor had recommended, in a tone dripping with pity, that Kristin have an abortion. That they try again in a few months, try to have a healthy baby who could grow up into a normal child.
Phil’s pretty sure they’re still trespassed from that hospital after he’d punched the doctor right in their idiotic face. Even knowing how sick Wilbur would be, how difficult his life could be, anything but his life was never an option.
They’d found another doctor then, one who was wholly willing to help them fight for Wilbur to have the best quality of life possible. And Phil thinks- he hopes and prays- that they’ve given that to him.
“They told us he would never be normal,” the woman says. The harshness has fallen away from her tone, but Phil’s not falling for it. “We were just trying to give him a good life.”
“Yeah, and how did that work out for you?”
Wilbur has been in physical and occupational therapy literally since the first months of his life. They knew he would need extra help to learn how to move his body, to learn how to live a normal life.
“You’re the ones who fucking kidnapped him-”
“You locked your child in a single room and gave him nothing but an ipad and some books to amuse himself with. He could’ve been living and growing, but you denied him that.” Phil is glad she can’t see him right now- glad she can’t see the way his hands shake as he tucks them under his arms. “You claim that you were trying to give him a good life, but in doing so, you took away the decent life he could’ve had. Nothing you did for him helped him. Now we have to try to undo all of that damage.”
“What the hell are you doing to him?” she asks, voice suddenly gone cold. “Neither of us gave consent for whatever the hell you’re doing-”
“You have no right to tell us what we can or can’t do. You’ve displayed a pattern of neglectful and abusive behavior towards your son, and he’s been placed in my custody, because my wife and I actually know how to take care of a kid like him.”
“What the hell are you doing to him?” she yells, slamming something against the wall.
Phil inhales slowly, steadily.
“Techno is receiving physical and occupational therapy to improve his quality of life,” he says. “He gets three good meals per day, he has a soft bed to sleep in. He’s being treated with as much love and care as if he were my own son.”
“That’s not exactly reassuring!”
“See,” Phil says heavily, “that says more about you than it does about me.”
~~~
They’re taking Techno to see his parents today.
He asked again, because he has to know. He- he has to know. They must love him, right? In some way. Even if it’s not like the way Phil loves his kids.
“Remember,” Phil says gently, “you can change your mind at any time.”
Techno nods. Phil’s pushing his wheelchair, because his arms are sore from physical therapy with Puffy earlier.
He doesn’t know why they’re keeping his mom and dad down here. This place looks like a- a prison, or something.
Phil stops the wheelchair in front of a door, coming around to kneel in front of Techno. He holds out his hands, and after a second Techno takes them. His fingers are cold, but not as cold in Phil’s palms.
“Now, remember.” Phil squeezes his hands gently. “Your parents aren’t going to be able to get to you. They’re going to be in handcuffs, things might look pretty scary, but they can’t get to you.”
“Are they okay?” Techno whispers.
Phil’s expression does something funny, finally settling back into something guarded, careful. He looks at Techno that way a lot.
“Yeah, they’re safe,” he says at last. “They’ve been taken care of, mate. You can see them, just- just remember, you can leave whenever you want.”
Techno nods, pulling his hands back. He suddenly feels a lot less excited about this. “Can- can we go in now, please?” he whispers.
“Yeah. Just- just, I’ll be with you the whole time, mate, and you can leave as soon as you want to.”
Why would he want to leave though? They- they’re his parents. Surely they’ll want to see him.
Phil pushes the door open, pushes Techno inside, and there’s his parents.
His mom looks angry. His dad is glaring at the door.
They both stare at him for a few seconds, kind of shocked almost.
“Techno,” his mom snaps. “Techno, what did you tell them?”
He flinches back into the chair. “N- nothing-”
Phil’s hand lands on his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything, though.
“What did they do to you?” His dad pulls against the restraints on the chair. “Did they hurt you?”
“I- I’m okay,” Techno whispers. And oh- his dad kept saying how sick he was all the time, so- so he’ll be happy that Techno’s better now, right? “I’m not sick anymore. I- they helped me get better, I’m not sick anymore-”
For some reason, that makes his dad look angry.
“Don’t be stupid, Techno,” he snaps. “Of course you’re still sick. Why would you think you’re not? You always have been.”
Techno’s breath catches. He- he’s not, though. Phil said that’s why the doctors could take out his feeding tube and the central line. He didn’t need them, because he’s not actually sick.
“Don’t speak to him like that,” Phil says. Flat and quiet.
“Don’t tell us how to speak to our son,” his mom snaps. “Don’t touch him, we haven’t given you consent to do anything to him-”
Techno grabs at Phil’s hand, panicked. He doesn’t want Phil to let go- Phil makes him feel safe. Phil makes him feel okay.
Phil’s hand squeezes gently. Like a reminder- I’m right here. I’ll be with you the whole time.
“Techno,” his mom says, hard and angry, “come here.”
And he doesn’t know what she wants, he doesn’t know what she’s going to do, but he can’t- he can’t-
Techno should go. He grabs the wheels of the chair, but his hands don’t move.
It’s stupid, but-
He doesn’t want to get hurt. He thinks- no, he knows that if he goes over there, his mom is going to hurt him. Which is a stupid thing to think, because she- she doesn’t hurt him. She only tries to help him. But Techno knows, right down deep inside him, that his mom will hurt him if he goes over there. Maybe, even, she wants to. Maybe that’s why she’s trying to get him to come.
Phil squeezes his shoulder again. And he said- he said they could leave if Techno wanted to, and Phil doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean.
“Da- Phil,” Techno whispers- and what was that? Why did he want to call Phil his dad- “I- I want to go.”
Phil puts his hands over Techno’s, gently unwrapping his fingers from the wheels of his chair. Techno’s mom makes an angry sound.
“Don’t you fucking dare-”
“Phil,” Techno whispers, “please.”
Phil hasn’t stopped moving. He places Techno’s hands back in his lap and goes behind him again, turning the chair towards the door.
“Don’t take him, you have no right to take him!” Techno’s mom yells.
“He’s ours, you can’t take our son away from us-” his dad yells- screams, more like.
Phil pauses, just for a second. “You drove him away yourself,” he says quietly, and pushes Techno’s chair through the door.
Techno kind of… drifts, for a while.
He knows Phil takes him back to the apartment (back home) and lifts him onto the couch. He knows Wilbur comes in and talks to him. He knows Tommy sits down beside him and watches something on TV.
Techno doesn’t wake up, though, for a long, long time.
When he does, Kristin’s kneeling in front of him, reaching towards him with both hands. Techno flinches back, just by instinct, not wanting to be hurt-
“Oh- oh, hi, Tech,” she says, very softly. She puts her hands back in her lap. “Are you feeling better now?”
Techno just stares for a few seconds. Kristin- she wouldn’t hurt him. She’s not like his mom.
“Ye- yeah,” he croaks out after a minute. “Is- do you need something?”
“No, sweetheart, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” She holds up her hands again, and Techno takes them, because Kristin is nice. Kristin won’t hurt him.
“My mom was gonna hurt me,” he whimpers. “I just know she was.”
Kristin doesn’t try to deny it. She just squeezes his hands gently, looking so, so sad. “Oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs. “I’m so sorry.”
He feels hollow. Empty and tired. “I don’t think they ever loved me,” he whispers. “I think they just lied and made me think they did.”
And Kristin just nods, just holds his hands.
“Can-” Techno’s voice gets stuck for a second, and he closes his eyes. “Can I have a hug?” he asks, almost silent.
“Oh, of course, sweetheart.”
She just wraps him up tightly in her arms, and Techno-
Relaxes. Goes completely limp, except for his arms, which he brings up to hold on to the back of her shirt. Kristin rubs his back gently, turning her head slightly and kissing the side of his head.
“You’re okay now,” she murmurs. “You’re safe with us, Tech.”
“I know,” he breathes. “I know.”