“Ow, ow, ow, ow.”

  “Not to diminish your good spirits Akio, but that is annoying as hell.”

  Akio shoots Chris a heatless glare, and he squeezes Chris' hand clenched in his a bit tighter in retaliation.

  “Ow, ow, ow!” Chris winces. He clocks Akio's smug eyebrow and rolls his eyes. “Yes fine, I get it now.” He huffs.

  Chris' arm around his waist tightens a bit as they slowly make the steep turn at the end of the upstairs corridor where Akio has been practicing his mobility. Rigor mortis apparently more difficult to shake off than muscle atrophy.

  He completes the frankly difficult turn with only a bead of sweat on his brow this time, and assigns himself a gold star. It's just been the corridor they've been trailing this week. The mere thought of the stairs enough to send him - back? - into a coma.

  “I'm tired.” He says, his knees have been aching for the last 30 minutes.

  Chris peers at his watch, “It's only been 20 minutes.” That can't be right.

  “Yea, well my knees say otherwise.” He extricates himself from Chris' hold and leans on the wall. Sliding gently till he's sat on the floor, legs stretched in front of him.

  Chris' groans, his knees protesting as he joins him on the floor. “I feel like you all deliberately forget I'm arthritic.”

  He huffs in response, head resting on the wall and eyes drooping shut. That's another thing he hates about this, his inability to control when he falls asleep. The last time almost had him face planting in a bowl of bland soup.

  He shakes his head and draws his knees to his chest, the twinge of pain from the action snapping him into a state of alertness.

  “Where's Alex?” He asks.

  “Took the kids out, again.” Chris says. “Figures. I complain about her not spending anytime with the kids, and she proceeds to spend every waking moment with them, boycotting other essential parts of life.”

  “She's avoiding me.”

  Chris snorts. “Was it ever unclear?”

  A beat.

  “I think I'm thirsty.” Akio whines.

  Chris sighs as he struggles to his feet. “I'll get you a glass.”

  Akio pauses for a moment, watching Chris stretch and coerce his back into a vertical state once more. “What if wanted to get it myself?” He blurts.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Chris pauses in a complicated twist, and then shuffles - kind of like a penguin - to turn and face him. “I'd ask if you could wait for an Amazon Express delivery stair chair lift.”

  Akio scowls. “That's not funny.”

  Chris lets go of the pose with a satisfied groan. “I'm not laughing. I let you face plant on those stairs in an attempt to use them, and I'm next in line to be bed ridden.”

  “I could, you know.” He gestures vaguely, Chris' eyes following every movement of his hand.

  “Hell no.”

  “Chris.”

  “Your cardio is shot, your endurance is shot, your focus is shot, your muscles are shot …” He lists off.

  Akio grits his teeth, “I get it.”

  “Do you? Are you sure?” He says.

  “I just don't get why she blames herself for me getting shot.” He notices Chris whiplash from the sudden change in discussion. “It's not like she could have predicted we were going to get robbed.”

  “I'm adding 'concentration' to your list of things that are shot.” Akio starts to protest, and Chris talks over him, “Have you tried telling her all this?”

  “I usually can't get her in place long enough.”

  Akio is interrupted by a shrill shriek, the pounding of little feet thudding up the stairs.

  Jo sights Akio on the floor and barrels towards him, she is thankfully intercepted at the last second by Chris scooping her up and tickling her.

  “Stop it Bubba!” She squeals in delight at the onslaught of tickles.

  Alex slips up the stairs with Ginger in her arms balancing a dangerous three scoop ice cream cone in her little hands.

  Chris' eyes land on the confectionery, and he glowers at a smirking Alex. “Are you doing this on purpose?” He gestures to the 2 year old who is on the floor now, attention divided between balancing the teetering ice cream in both hands and taking shaky steps towards Chris.

  “Chris,” Alex coos, all false sincerity. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

  “She can't eat all that, or she'll be up through the week.” Akio says, and he stretches out an arm which Chris grabs with his own not holding Josephine, and lugs him into an upright position.

  Akio bends over, hands resting on his knees, as he struggles to catch his breath. He looks up just in time to see the brief flash of guilt on Alex's face, before she schools it back into casual nonchalance.

  Ginger finally reaches and clings to Chris' trousers, the pink, green and yellow blobs of ice cream - surprisingly still in her other hand and not the floor - smudging on a pant leg. He sighs resignedly and sets Jo down, - who shimmies over to Akio's side and grabs his hand - picking Ginger up instead. Prying the Ice Cream away from her, he sets off down the stairs, passing by a smug Alex on the way.

  “Alex got you a huge tub of Ice cream.” Jo informs Akio, the demonstration of how huge the Ice cream is, tugging on his arm. His fingers snuggly ensconced in her little ones.

  “Wanna go see?” She asks, looking up at him with wide innocent eyes. His heart aches a little.

  “How about you go bring it up here, with two spoons?” he compromises.

  She wrinkles her nose in irritation and gestures for Akio to lean in, he does. “I already had three scoops. Alex says I can't have anymore.” she whispers.

  “Alex doesn't need to know. As long as you promise to drink a lot of water afterwards.” He whispers back, suddenly remembering the water he hadn't had yet.

  Jo glances at Alex - who is still stood by the stairs - for a second, then turns to Akio with a nod. “Deal.” She declares before bolting back down to the kitchen where the Ice Cream Akio suspects, is.

  “I take it I'm supposed to pretend I didn't hear that transaction.” Alex says, as she strides to where he's perched.

  “Why Alex,” he lilts, in imitation of her response earlier. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

  Alex laughs, stopping beside him to throw his arm over her shoulder. “Where do you wanna go?”

  “Downstairs?” He tries.

  Alex shoots him an unimpressed look.

  “Fine, take me back to my prison-- sorry, room.” he finishes sweetly.

  Alex grunts and herds him in the direction of his room.

  “And, we're going to talk.” He adds mid journey, after making sure she can't flee the inevitable.