I remained motionless in the middle of the hallway.
The image had vanished, but the feeling had not. Something in my chest felt off, as if I had tried to remember more than my mind could handle.
"Are you alright?"
I looked up.
McQueen was a few steps away from me, holding a book in her hands. She didn't look alarmed. Just attentive.
"Yes... I think so," I replied, though it didn't sound convincing even to myself.
Her eyes dropped briefly to my hands gripping the wheels.
"You stopped suddenly."
I slowly let go of the metal rim.
"It was just a memory. Nothing clear."
McQueen didn't ask for details. Instead, she gently closed her book.
"The body and memory do not always move at the same pace," she said. "Forcing them usually makes things worse."
There was something about the way she spoke. It wasn't condescending. Nor was it distant. It was firm, but without harshness.
"Have you ever had to... stop, too?" I asked before thinking too much.
A slight surprise crossed her expression, barely perceptible.
"More times than I would like to admit."
She didn't add anything else.
The hallway was silent. In the distance, Palmer's animated voice could be heard discussing something about times and records. Ryan replied with a competitive tone. The sound seemed to come from another world, one where movement was a natural thing.
I looked at my legs.
"I wanted to run," I muttered without realizing it.
McQueen didn't move.
"Not like them," I added quickly. "Not like that. But... I wanted to do it."
I felt heat in my face. I didn't understand why I had said that out loud.
"Run toward what?" she asked.
The question caught me off guard.
"I don't know," I admitted. "Toward something, I guess. Or away from something."
McQueen walked slowly until she stood in front of me. Not too close. Not too far. Just the right distance.
"Then your problem isn't your legs," she said calmly. "It's that you still don't know what your goal is."
I frowned.
"That sounds... unfairly logical."
A small smile appeared on her lips.
"I will take that as a compliment."
The moment was light, but something inside me kept tensing up.
"I want to try moving on my own," I said suddenly.
McQueen tilted her head slightly.
"Very well."
She didn't call anyone. She didn't offer to push. She just took a step back.
That unexpected trust forced me to act.
I placed both hands on the wheels and pushed. The movement was clumsy at first, uneven. I corrected my posture like Ryan had instructed me earlier. I moved forward a meter. Then another.
The hallway seemed longer now.
I felt McQueen's gaze, but it wasn't pressure. It was... calm evaluation.
I tried to turn.
The right wheel bumped slightly against the wall.
"Ah—"
"Too much force on one side," she said softly.
I adjusted my grip and tried again. This time it worked better.
I moved a few more meters before the fatigue started to show. My arms burned. My breathing became irregular.
I didn't want to stop.
Not in front of her.
I pushed one more time.
The wheel slipped badly. I lost my balance forward.
I didn't fall.
McQueen's hand held the backrest before the chair could tilt too far.
The contact was firm. Secure.
My heart skipped a beat.
"You don't have to prove anything," she said without letting go of the chair.
"I'm not... trying to prove anything," I lied.
Her eyes softened slightly.
"Yes, you are."
The silence between us changed texture. It was no longer neutral. It was conscious.
"I don't want to be a burden," I finally admitted, looking away.
There it was.
The word I had avoided since I woke up.
McQueen took a few seconds to respond.
"A burden is that which one does not choose to carry," she said. "You are not that."
I looked at her, confused.
"We found you. We decided to bring you here. We decided to take care of you. None of that was an obligation."
Her tone wasn't emotional. It was clear.
"Besides," she added, "you underestimate what you bring."
I let out a brief laugh.
"I can't walk. I don't remember my name. I don't know where I come from."
"And yet," she replied, "you try to move forward."
I didn't know what to say.
McQueen removed her hand from the backrest, but she didn't step away.
"Dignity does not depend on speed," she continued. "Nor on physical strength."
I felt something strange in my chest. It wasn't pity. It wasn't pride.
It was recognition.
I looked away so she wouldn't notice the slight tremor in my hands.
"You're... different from what I imagined," I said without thinking.
"How did you imagine me?"
I panicked.
"Not in a weird way," I clarified quickly. "It's just... you seem very formal. I thought you'd be more distant."
McQueen held my gaze a second longer than necessary.
"Distance is also a choice," she replied. "And right now, I do not consider it necessary."
The hallway filled again with the distant voices of the others.
Palmer appeared around the corner and stopped when she saw us.
"Am I interrupting something?"
I felt the heat return to my face.
"No," McQueen and I answered at the same time.
Palmer smiled with barely disguised mischief.
"I just came to let you know that Ryan wants to show off something in the garden. Again."
"Tell her I will be there in a moment," McQueen replied.
Palmer retreated, but not before shooting me a curious glance.
The silence returned.
"Can you come with me?" I asked before losing my nerve.
McQueen didn't hesitate.
"Of course."
I started to move forward again. This time slower. More deliberately.
I didn't know exactly where I was going.
But I didn't want her to walk away, either.