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Leo is fucking annoyed with everybody right now. Including himself. First, his body has the audacity to decide it’s time to evict all attempts at nutrition. Second, his boyfriend Jason forced him to go to the infirmary when Will was out of town. Third, the other fuckass demigods at the infirmary were weird and gaslighty with him. Fourth, he’s still not doing any better.
So now he’s been stuck in the infirmary for a week. Again. Festus got overexcited when he was playing with Leo and knocked him down. Maybe it was a mistake to play with his giant ass metal dragon in a field full of plants he’s incredibly allergic to, but it was fun. Festus gets lonely!
Leo sure is paying the damn price now. He can’t even fucking keep down his formula, he's in a fuckton of pain, and none of his fucking joints will stay in place. Maybe that was a little too many fucks, but whatever. He feels like shit. It's nothing he hasn't dealt with before, he just hates feeling so trapped by shitty fucking doctors and feeling awful.
Cherry on top? Will’s back and wants him to do an eval for a new wheelchair. Apparently, “a wheelchair can't survive getting crushed by a metal dragon” and there’s “no way he can do it himself with how his health has been” and “he should really consider a power chair at this point” or whatever. Dramatic.
It’s been a while since he’s gotten an eval done. The last time, he was like thirteen. He was supposed to get another one when he got out of Wilderness School, but then he got sent on a quest to save the world and made his own wheelchair. Never had Leo known peace like just making his own chair.
Of course, he tried to refuse Will’s insistence that he gets evaluated and let somebody else make him a new chair. His arguments failed miserably. Maybe it had to do with the fact he was in so much pain he couldn’t sit up during the conversation, but who’s to say the real reason?
In Will’s defense, he’s trying really hard to not make it horrible for Leo. He knows that Leo only trusts a few people for his medical care and will happily make himself miserable to avoid getting bullshit from people. Like the way that the other infirmary people did when he first got here. They got a very loud lecture from Will, at least.
So here they are, Will asking about any good experiences he has with wheelchair evals.
That's a hard question. When he was eight and thirteen and firmly in foster care, it was awful because they thought he was exaggerating for attention. The fosters told the doctors he was lying and made him push himself into flares constantly, and the doctors bought it all. He was a manipulative problem child.
Leo swears it wasn’t his fault. In retrospect, he felt so awful so much of the time, he wasn’t able to be the nicest all the time. The irony of that trend keeping up right now is not lost on him.
Well, actually, there was one time he had a good wheelchair eval. It’s the only time a chair felt like it really fit him right. He still clearly remembers it, even though it was almost 15 years ago now. After all, how could he forget how much his mama loved him? He guesses that Will can know about it too.
“Padiuxi!” Mami swings open the curtains and wakes him up, “Xi modo nuulu?”
Leo groans. He does NOT want to be awake right now and it is NOT a good morning. It is too early to be that good and he should definitely get five more minutes. THAT is how he is doing.
“Aww, come on, lyen. It’s already been three five more minutes,” Mami tries to convince him, “We gotta tame that nest of hair you got going.”
“I’m not a baby!” Leo pouts, even though it means that he’s actually awake now. Lyen means baby, and he can’t let that slide.
That doesn’t mean that he lost, he could still not get out of bed. Or he could get up. Maybe he wants to, but Mami can’t tell him what to do! When he’s all grown up, he’s gonna have ice cream for breakfast. Sometimes Mami lets him do that anyways, but he would do it everyday.
“Okay, okay, whatever you say, buddy. Do you wanna have breakfast? I made you chilaquiles,” Mami offers him.
Leo does like chilaquiles, even if they sometimes make him feel yucky. Mami says that it’s okay if he doesn’t want food that makes him feel yucky, but it tastes yummy and he likes them. But sometimes, they make him itchy and that makes Mami sad, so he doesn’t like them then.
“Are they the itchy kind?” Leo asks.
Mami laughs, which doesn’t make sense because this is a very serious question, “No, sweetheart, I didn’t put lime in there this time. I tried tamarind this time, it’s in Pelon Pelo Rico.”
Leo nods very seriously, because he means business. Mami says that he’s going to preschool soon because he’s almost four whole years old, so he needs to know how to ask about his allergies and talk about his body. They’ve been practicing everyday.
He has Em Cass and See Eedie Ess, which stands for Mast Cell Activation Syndrome and Classical Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. They make him have lots of allergies and make his bones and skin work different. That means he has to be careful about what he eats and he gets hurt easily. If something bad happens, he knows Mama’s phone number and it’s on a bracelet he wears all the time.
Leo’s almost perfect at saying it all. He doesn’t always remember Mama’s phone number, though. It’s hard! There’s lots of numbers in it and sometimes he mixes them up and calls a random old man instead. He’s very nice each time, though.
Breakfast is very yummy because Mama is always good at making yummy food. She’s so much better at it than Tía Callida. Leo doesn’t like her, but sometimes she has to babysit him. She makes gross food and doesn’t let him play with fun toys.
“Today is a very big day, we’re going to go back to the wheelchair doctor we saw. Do you remember her? She had looong blonde hair that she wore in a braid,” Mami describes.
Leo nods, he remembers her. She was very nice. Sometimes doctors are mean to him. His Mami took him to a Gee Eye doctor because his tummy hurts a lot, and he was very mean and hurt him with his poking. The wheelchair doctor was nice and gentle and didn’t make his insides hurt. She even told him everything she was doing and let him help!
“It might be a little boring, but you need to be patient to make sure everything is just perfect for you. What toys do you want me to bring with us?” Mami asks.
That’s a very good question, Mami always has good questions. Sometimes grown ups don’t have good questions and they ask him things he doesn’t know how to answer or boring things. Then they think he's being bad, but he isn't being bad or lying. That's his least favorite.
“I wanna color and play with my connect-y star blocks,” Leo firmly decides.
Those are his favorite when he goes to the doctor because there's always time for coloring and he likes building things. Mami likes them too! She says that they're easy to carry and clean and she plays with them too, which makes them even more fun.
The car ride takes forever and is so boring. Leo might actually just die of boredom. He forgot to bring a stuffed animal to keep him company in his car seat and now it's so boring the whole way there.
“Okay, okay, we're here, bud. Let me carry you in, alrighty?” Mami unbuckles him from his car seat.
Leo pouts, “I wanna walk!”
“Remember this parking lot is really rocky? You fell and got hurt last time, without your crutches it's not safe for you to walk,” Mami reminds him.
Oh yeah, she's right. Mami’s always right, though, because she's really smart. She's the only one that Leo lets carry him because she does it right. Everybody else makes his bones move and hurt, which he doesn't like at all. Mami says it's good that he doesn't let other people pick him up even though he's small and easy to. She calls them brown-der-eez.
“There's my favorite little buddy!” the nice blonde doctor waves as soon as they get inside, “Are you excited to get your chair?”
He shrugs. Leo doesn't get what's the big idea. He can walk and run, so he doesn't know why he needs a special chair instead of doing that. Yesterday or maybe the day before that, he went to the park and ran all around playing and sliding and swinging.
Mami says it's good that he plays but he also needs to be careful because he has diss-stone-ee-uh, which makes him fall and then his bones move in the ouchie way. Mami says that her bones sometimes move in the ouchie way too, but not as much as Leo's do. His do it everyday though, which is why he needs the special chair for when he goes to preschool.
Leo gets to walk and follow the blonde doctor all the way to a secret big back room that looks like the YMCA playroom with tons of mats and balls and toys. It has a bunch of different things he's never seen before that look very doctor-y, though.
“Has he been fitted for leg braces? His gait could improve with them, many of the kiddos that come through here have them,” the doctor asks Mami.
Mami shakes her head, “He had a bad allergic reaction when they tried to cast them and they don't feel comfortable trying again, so I need to find him another orthotist that's in-network for his Medicaid.”
Those are big adult words that Leo doesn't care about, so he stops paying attention. They keep talking when they sit down in some chairs, so Leo digs in his mom's purse to get his toys. She packed a little baggie of his connect-y star blocks he likes, so he's happy to sit and play.
Mami taps his foot a couple times because he's sitting the wrong way. Some grown up thing happened and now Leo goes to way more doctors, including Dr. Shelley, who tells him that he sits wrong. They call it double-you sitting and tell him he can remember it because double-you stands for wrong, which doesn't make any sense to him.
Sitting the other way hurts and makes his bones move more than his way of sitting, so Leo doesn't see the problem with it. Dr. Shelley makes him do all kinds of weird exercises when he goes there. Leo really wants to jump on the trampoline they have there, but nobody will let him. He doesn't like those appointments very much.
“Alright, buddy, let's get you into your brand new wheelchair!” Mami pats the seat of the shiny new chair that the doctor brought out.
The wheelchair doctor talks a long more time about his chair. It's boring. He's just happy that it's red because that's his favorite color. Apparently it's supposed to grow with him, which doesn't make sense because not-living-things don't grow. That's what Mami told him, and she's very smart about these things.
Leo is almost four whole years old, but he still eats in a high chair seat because Mami says it's made special for his body. He hates it. They have to bring it every time they go to restaurants or family parties or powwows and people think he's a baby. Leo's not a baby!
All other eating chairs make him feel yucky, though. They make his legs and back hurt and move in the bad way. There's two different big words for that, but Leo can't remember them. Mami says that it's okay that he doesn't know them since he's still little and she'll always be there for him.
His wheelchair isn't like all other chairs, though. It feels just right and doesn't hurt even a little bit like how couches do! Leo's sure it must be magic or something. He didn't know that chairs could do that! And it's red!
“I love it!” Leo happily wiggles in his brand new red wheelchair.
The doctor shows him how to drive his wheelchair and use the extra thing called a power assist. His fingers and hands and arms move in the bad way a lot, so it's supposed to help make that not happen as much. It's super easy to make it go right, which impressed the doctor a lot. Leo's a big boy, so he knew he could do it.
After the grown ups talk more, they leave. Mami gets to the car and lifts Leo back into his car seat, then stares a long, long time at his wheelchair.
“Dios mio, I need a new car,” Mami says quietly like she thinks he doesn't hear it.
That makes Leo sad, he likes Mami’s car. Other cars make him feel yucky, but this one feels just right. When Tía Callida drives him places, he always throws up and then she gets mad. Leo doesn't like when she gets mad, it's scary and then she's mean and doesn't Leo play what he wants.
Mami's car is named The Challenger after a rocketship from a really long time ago. Mami hates the name, but Leo thinks it's a fun name. It makes it sound like he's a big strong fighter. And how will The Challenger feel if they just get rid of him and replace him? That's not fair.
“I like The Challenger! We can't get rid of him, he'll get sad!” Leo argues, Mami is still doing something with his wheelchair in the back.
“I'm never letting your Tios teach you anything again, oh my god,” Mami says like Leo can't hear her still, “All machines need to retire eventually, it's time for The Challenger to retire so he can go live out his biggest dreams somewhere else and we can get a bigger car that fits your wheelchair better.”
That still makes Leo sad, but he guesses it's okay. Mami says that Xto’ogulhe Sammy is also retired and he has lots of fun all the time. Leo likes him, he always plays with him and teaches him lots of Zapotec words and tells really good stories. He says that he’s gonna die soon because he’s old, but that it’s okay because that happens to everybody.
Mami finally gets back in the car and starts driving them again after about a billion years. Grown ups are always so slow and boring. She’s usually better about it, but maybe it feels longer because Leo’s still missing his usual stuffed animal car friend.
“How is your tummy feeling, Lyobaa?” Mami asks him.
That’s one of Leo’s middle names, Xto’ogulhe Sammy picked it because it’s a Zapotec word. Sometimes Mami calls him that and it feels like their little secret. Maybe not secret, but nobody else calls him that. He likes it. It makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside.
Oh yeah, the question, “My tummy is good!” answers Leo.
His tummy hurts a lot of the time and sometimes he throws up because of it. Mami says it’s because of his See Eedie Ess, even though the mean Gee Eye doctor said it wasn’t. Mami’s nicer and she says that it’s because his tummy works differently and that’s why it hurts. Today, his tummy feels okay.
“How about we get some ice cream?” Mami proposes, “You were very good and patient today at your appointment. Plus, we should show off your new ride!”
Leo squeals with happiness, he loves ice cream! They go to a place right down the road from home and have so many different paletas and Mami’s friend owns it and they’re very nice. He’s not allowed to go alone because he’s not allowed to cross busy roads by himself yet. Mami says he’s too little to do that, but when he’s in 3rd grade she’ll let him!
“Yes yes yes! Can I get a paleta? I wanna have the strawberry and coconut one this time, or maybe the watermelon one, or maybe the mango one,” Leo starts rambling… admittedly the whole way home. He’s excited! He can’t help it.
Mami helps him push his wheelchair because the sidewalk is bumpy and hard for him to go over even with the special power assist helping him. Usually when they go, Mami pulls him in a wagon that makes his bones hurt, so this is a kabajillion times better.
When they get there it feels nice and cold inside. Sometimes, Leo’s home is really hot during summertime, so this is much nicer. Plus, Mrs. Ice Cream gives Leo lots of free samples of ice cream. Today, he gets to try a chocolate one with caramel, a new horchata one, and a peach one with little crunchy things inside.
“Look at my new chair! It’s all pretty and red and I can make it go all by myself!” Leo eagerly shows off his chair to Mrs. Ice Cream.
“Very nice! And it’s red just like your paleta,” Mrs. Ice Cream compliments because she’s very nice, then turns to Mami and starts speaking Spanish, “How are you doing, Esperanza? Is your health well?”
“Yes, yes, and my Leo knows Spanish too! He’s getting very good at it, not quite as good as his Zapotec yet,” Mami replies, “I am always good, my work treats me well and let me go part-time to spend time with my little buddy.”
“And how are you doing, Mr. Leo?” Mrs. Ice Cream asks him, he likes when grown ups ask him stuff instead of his mom because he’s a big boy who can answer for himself.
“I’m good! The wheelchair doctor was so much nicer than the Gee Eye doctor I went to,” Leo happily answers, “And I like ice cream so my day is very good.”
“Gee Eye?” Mrs. Ice Cream looks confused.
There’s nothing to be confused about, so Leo doesn’t know what the problem is.
Mami answers, “Gastrointestinal, for his stomach issues. He’s still not eating enough and he’s so small. The kids his age at the park are all at least twice his size.”
Mami is right. All the kids think that he's a baby because he's really small next to them. His nice regular doctor is very unhappy with that, but the mean tummy doctor said he's fine. Leo doesn't get why they don't think the same thing. Aren't grown ups supposed to be smart and know what's right and what's wrong?
He also doesn't get why the Gee Eye doctor was so mean to him. Leo was good and quiet and everything! When they went to see the mean doctor, he felt yucky that day and he always is better at behaving when he feels yucky. The mean doctor told him to stop pretending, but he wasn't pretending! Leo doesn't like lying, it also makes him feel yucky.
Mrs. Ice Cream’s paletas never make him feel yucky, though. Mami says it's because she makes special ones that Leo can have, but most places don't so he has to be careful and ask what's in them. They practice with Mrs. Ice Cream a lot because she also makes normal not-Ice-Cream food for them a lot.
It sucks when they have to leave and he has to go to work with Mami, but Mrs. Ice cream gives them paletas to take home. Mami says that it's not a good idea for other people to watch him right now because he's been feeling yucky more. Sometimes he can't really eat without throwing up, and she doesn't like how other people don't get it really.
Today he's not feeling yucky though, which means he gets to play at Mami’s work instead of taking a nap. They have an area right by Mami’s work station, but inside, where he gets to be. He likes being able to watch Mami and the other car people work. When he grows up, he wants to do that too.
Leo spends the rest of the day playing with his trucks while Mami works. His new wheelchair fits perfectly at a table at her job so he doesn't even need to sit the wrong way on the floor anymore! And one of the guys that also do car things, Javier, gave Leo a brand new matchbox car! Today is the best day ever! People should keep giving him more things he likes.
“Lyobaa, I'm all done for the day… but do you want one more surprise before we go home for dinnertime?” Mami looks all sweaty like she always does after work.
“Good surprise or bad surprise?” Leo asks back.
“Hmmm,” Mami strokes her chin like she has a beard, which is silly because she doesn’t have one like a lot of the car people do, “I think it's good, Matias helped me with it.”
That means it must be a good surprise! Matias is the best, he's Leo's favorite out of all of the car people Mami works at. He always talks to Leo, explains things, and doesn't treat him like a little baby. Also… he brings a lot of toys for Leo to play with while Mami works.
Of course, Leo says yes and follows Mami back to her working place. And Matias is there! Mami said he wasn't working today, but he's here! This must be a really good surprise.
“Hey little man, I heard you got a new ride,” Matias holds up his hand for a fist bump, which Leo happily returns, “I made some new stickers and decorations just for you and your chair!”
They look so cool! The stickers make his wheelchair look like blocks and then there's all these little car things that go onto his wheels on the metal parts. And then there's a cool backpack that's shaped like a truck! It's so perfect! He can't help but happily wiggle in his chair.
“Wow! That's very nice of Matias, what do we say?” Mami asks in Spanish.
They always speak Spanish at work, Zapotec at home, and usually English when they're out. Mami says it's important that Leo learns all his languages before he goes to big boy school. She says he's very smart and is doing a good job. He wonders what he's supposed to use at school?
“Gracias!” Leo happily flaps his hands, looking on in awe while Matias puts everything on his chair.
“You should thank your Mami too, little man! She told me all about your new ride,” Matias says, “I'm happy you like it. A man should always make his ride his own.”
This really is the best day ever! Leo wishes that it could last forever. He has a perfect new red wheelchair, a whole box of paletas, a new toy, and his Mami.
“Wait, Leo, you were three when you got your first wheelchair? They do that and give you, tiny Leo, a power assist?” Will Solace looks shocked.
It’s a fair question. It’s pretty rare for kids that young to get actual wheelchairs that they control, let alone get a power assist with it, let alone that long ago when power assists were still relatively new.
“Yeah,” Leo fondly recalls, he likes remembering his mama, “I used to drive circles around everyone zooming around. It was great, my mama thought it was so funny.”
Will looks like he’s about to make Leo move around and do the fucking evaluation, which sounds terrible in just about every way. He’s barely left bed since Jason dragged him here. The idea of being poked and prodded and sitting up for that long, no offense, sounds like hell.
“Solace, if you make me move I'm gonna puke all over you and the fall apart into a pile of fucked up collagen and bones,” Leo snarks, maybe a little meaner than he means to be.
He snuggles in closer to Jason, who's laying in the hospital bed next to him. His mama used to hold him like this too when he was flaring. Leo always misses her more during times like these. Jason's great, but he misses having somebody that gets it more.
His mama also had cEDS. Way milder than Leo did, but she used to always know exactly what he felt and what to do. He misses the days when he didn't have to explain everything all the time. The only reason he was able to get diagnosed with everything so early on is because she always believed him.
After she died, everybody always thought he was lying. He couldn't possibly be that sick. He couldn't possibly be in that much pain. He couldn't possibly be innocent. Leo Valdez always lies.
The first time somebody really, actually believed him since his mom died was Piper. Most people would expect Asa, Leo's actually decent social worker, but he first came in with the expectation set by the last lady: Leo's a pathological liar. Every adult has always been that way, though.
Then Real Not Fake Jason also believed him. Scared out of his mind and totally clueless about disability, but he believed him. Then Hedge, then Will, then his siblings. Leo forgot that things could be that good. He forgot how good it feels to not have to defend every word he says. It was so good, he told himself he could deal with how bad it was on the big quest.
Being back, basically in a hospital and having the kinda-doctors not believing he’s as sick as he is feels so much worse than it did before. He knows he’s just freaking out over nothing. He knows he’s being mean for no good reason and he’s been a dick to Jason and Will. They’ve both been so nice to him, but he can’t help but feel like he doesn’t deserve it.
“My bad, wasn’t planning on doing anything today. It sounds like you just want me to actually listen to you and walk you through everything I’m doing, which I can 100% do. Just let me know when you’re up to doing the eval,” Will takes Leo’s snark with stride, “It’ll just be me and Nyssa. Have I apologized enough about the others yet? I’m so fucking sorry about them.”
“Would be better if they actually said sorry,” Jason mutters quietly enough that only Leo hears.
Leo chuckles a little, which makes his stomach hurt like hell but it’s worth it. Everything makes his stomach hurt, it might as well be something good like his boyfriend being sassy. It looks like Jason notices, because he starts rubbing circles on Leo’s arm in the way he does when he notices he’s in pain.
“Sorry,” Leo reflexively apologizes, “To both of you. I don’t fucking know what’s wrong with me.”
“It’s okay, amate, it’s been rough lately,” Jason reassures him.
“Seriously, it’s so okay to be pissy when everything sucks,” Will adds on, “I’m so horrified that they treated you like that, they’re new around here and I should’ve trained them better. They didn’t even look at your file, I have something noted there about your medical trauma.”
The funniest thing is that nobody’s ever actually straight up said it before. Leo’s had a lot of good luck with most of his doctors, especially once Asa started coming to his appointments, so he likes to consider him generally lucky. Not somebody with medical trauma.
But gods, does it feel amazing to have somebody else say it.
And maybe, just maybe, this is a sign that the times of being believed the way his mama did aren’t gone forever.