#obligatory disclaimer : i do not own or use a wheelchair. if there are any inaccuracies please let me know so i can fix them

[evecolourshock]

:)

"What is this." Tron pokes at the contraption Beck brought him gingerly. It rocks a little, brakes keeping it mostly in place. "And why is it here."

"It's a wheelchair!" Beck chirps, entirely too pleased with himself. "I found some resources about them, so I made one."

"Why is it here." Tron stresses. Experiments should stay in the workshop, he made that clear shortly after remembering he'd taken in a teenage mechanic with a penchant for inventing.

"It's for you." Beck rests his elbows on the back of it. "For when you have bad days. So you don't have to walk."

It does look comfy. Easy to use, too. Not as maneuverable as the cane Tron tries to avoid using, but it makes up for that in being sturdy and supportive.

Tron's lip still curls reflexively. "I don't need it."

"Tron." Beck levels a sharp look at him.

"There is no point giving me it. I don't need it." Tron huffs.

"You can't walk sometimes." Beck says dryly. Tron scowls at him. "Look. Just use it, especially on your bad days. Give me feedback on what needs work. I want to make more of these for everyone who needs them, when we win." He suggests. "I have a few other designs, including a motorised one, but they're not finished enough for testing yet."

"Why should I?" Tron mutters, folding his arms.

"Because it gives you something to do so you're not bored?"

"I resent this. I hope you're aware."

The wheelchair is exhausting at first. Hard to move, heavy and clunky. But after a few tweaks, and a lot of fine-tuning technique, it gets easier.

Much easier. So convenient, at least for getting around when his legs wouldn't normally support him.

Tron is particularly determined to acquaint Beck's smug smile with the training mats. Stupid comfy chair. He hates it. Hates knowing he needed one long before now even more.

Tron nearly tips himself over backwards, wheelchair tilting dangerously, and panics. If he falls now, he won't be getting up without help - and that won't arrive for a while. His weight shifts, hands grabbing for the rims on his wheelchair almost instinctually-

Huh.

He's not falling.

Balanced on those huge main wheels, none of the others touching the floor. Including the castor wheels Tron had forgotten Beck added after the last time he tipped over.

He tests moving gingerly, rolling a little way on just the big wheels before settling back on all of them.

Tron feels the start of a smile, curiosity sparking through him. That's new.

...what else can he do with this?

Beck watches Tron zooming around in the wheelchair, pleased but also a little exasperated. He was expecting Tron to at least grudgingly decide the wheelchair isn't so bad, because he's not forced to struggle and has options now. A little more freedom.

But this?

Granted, he's never seen Tron smile this much. The Monitor seems to be having fun, which is fantastic!

But Beck did not design the wheelchair with honest-to-Grid stunts in mind.

"I'm going to have to reinforce that." He hums. "Then you can do more."

Tron grins at him.

Thinking about Uprising Tron with his chronic pain and fatigue issues, getting one of those active wheelchairs for when he’s too tired to stand. Potentially Beck builds him one. He starts off being predictably grumpy-old-man “I’m fine I don’t need help” about it, until the second he figures out how to do tricks in it and then no-one can get him out of the thing