## Chapter 5: Homecoming & The Walking Lie
the city streets slick with rain outside Kelvin Argent's hospital window. Inside, the air crackled with unspoken tension and the low thrum of the Blood War Chains against his skin. Elara bustled nervously, packing the meager belongings the retrieval team had salvaged – mostly ruined gear and his identification card. Her movements were jerky, her eyes constantly darting to Kelvin, still lying in the bed, the picture of carefully curated fragility.
"They signed the discharge papers," Elara said, her voice tight. "Against 'strong medical advice,' but… they couldn't force him to stay. Spinal injuries are long-term rehab, not acute care after stabilization." She swallowed hard, looking at the wheelchair the hospital provided. "The taxi's downstairs. Ready?"
Kelvin met her gaze, seeing the dread warring with determination. She believed she was about to lift her paralyzed brother into a chair, then into a cab, then into their small apartment. The weight of that lie pressed down on him, heavier than any dungeon pack. He'd spent the night completing the *Focused Will* quest, the +1 Intelligence a cool hum in his mind, and obsessively planning this moment.
"Ready," he rasped, injecting the expected weakness. He pushed himself up slowly, wincing theatrically, his hands gripping the bed rails with white-knuckled intensity. He swung his legs over the side, letting them dangle limply for a heart-stopping moment. Elara rushed forward instinctively, her hands outstretched to support him.
"Careful! Let me help you into the chair," she urged, positioning it beside the bed.
This was the precipice. Kelvin took a slow, deliberate breath, feeling the Architect's energy coiled within him, the +3 Vitality reinforcing bones that had knitted with impossible speed. He met Elara's eyes, letting a flicker of something else show – not despair, but a fierce, concentrated effort.
"Elara…" he said, his voice low but stronger than it had been. "I… I think I can try to stand. Just… just for a second. To transfer."
Elara froze, her eyes widening impossibly. "Kelvin, no! The nurse said… the doctor said… you could hurt yourself! The contusion…"
"They also said 'might not come back,'" Kelvin countered, holding her gaze, pouring every ounce of conviction he could muster into the lie. "Something… tingled last night. More than before. I need to *try*. Just hold my arms. Please."
The raw hope warring with terror on her face was almost unbearable. But she nodded, stepping closer, bracing herself, her hands gripping his biceps with surprising strength. "Okay. Okay, but *slowly*. And if it hurts, you stop *immediately*."
Kelvin nodded. He placed his hands flat on the mattress beside him. He took another breath, focusing not on the System, but on the *performance*. He needed to look like a man summoning every ounce of willpower and latent Hunter resilience, not someone whose legs were already functional. He pushed down, leveraging his arms, his body trembling – a tremor that wasn't entirely feigned due to the sheer emotional weight.
He rose. Inch by agonizing inch, he pushed himself upright, legs visibly shaking, knees threatening to buckle. He leaned heavily into Elara's support, gasping as if each centimeter cost him dearly. He swayed precariously.
"Oh my god… Kelvin…" Elara breathed, her voice a mixture of awe and sheer panic, taking almost his full weight. "You're… you're standing!"
"Barely," he gasped out, letting his legs wobble convincingly. "Just… just to the chair. One step. Help me."
It was the most excruciating three feet of his life. He shuffled, dragging his feet, letting his right leg buckle slightly as if the muscles were atrophied novelties. He collapsed heavily into the wheelchair, breathing raggedly, sweat beading on his forehead – some from the effort of *controlling* his movement, not weakness.
Elara stared at him, tears welling up again, but these were different. Tears of stunned, disbelieving hope. "You… you *moved* your legs! You stood! Kelvin, that's… that's incredible!" She knelt beside the chair, gripping his hand. "The doctor said weeks, maybe months before even *attempting* weight-bearing! This… this is a miracle!"
*It's the Architect,* Kelvin thought, the guilt a lead weight. *It's the Vitality stat. It's the lie.* He managed a weak, exhausted smile. "Just… a flicker. Maybe… maybe the shock is wearing off faster than they thought? Hunter weirdness, like Carter said." He leaned back, closing his eyes, playing the utterly spent patient. "Need… need to get home. Tired."
The journey home was a blur of Elara's nervous energy, the taxi driver's indifferent grunts, and Kelvin maintaining the facade of profound weakness, leaning heavily on Elara during the transfer from cab to apartment building elevator, then down the narrow hallway. He shuffled the last few steps to their door, leaning against the frame while Elara fumbled with the keys, her eyes constantly flicking back to him, still radiating shock.
Finally, the door swung open to their familiar, slightly shabby apartment. The scent of home – old books, faint dust, and the lingering ghost of cheap coffee – washed over him. Elara guided him inside, steering him towards the worn couch.
"Sit, sit!" she urged. "I'll make tea. Just… rest. Don't push it." She hovered, still visibly reeling. "I can't believe you walked… even just that little bit…"
Kelvin sank onto the couch with a genuine sigh of relief, the strain of the performance easing slightly in the sanctuary of home. "Me neither," he murmured, the truth hidden within the lie. He watched her hurry to the kitchenette, her movements lighter than they had been in days.