Author's Note: I wrote this story with the intention of exploring what it might be like for Emma to be disabled. That being said, I am not, and I could never know what it is really like to have to go through something as horrible as losing a limb or incurring brain damage from battle. I did my best to handle the fictional situation with care and sensitivity. Hopefully, I succeeded at that task. This is just one person's take on what it might be like to be in this position. That being said, I hope it's a good read and that you all enjoy it.

Disabled. Emma would spit the word if she could manage it, but it stuck in her throat like hot, gooey tar. Most words tended to now. Everything was hard to say. It all came out in a jumbled stutter. Her mind had trouble piecing together the words before she could push them out. Before the accident, she'd been articulate. Even witty, her friends said. Now, no friends surrounded her or even visited her at the desolate rehabilitation facility for veterans where she currently resided. Not only was she in the prison-like building, away from her old, familiar home, she was now a prisoner of her own decaying mind and broken body.

They told her she would get better. That she shouldn't give up. That she had to keep trying. But Emma didn't buy it. Every day she felt worse, not better. Words slipped from her mind. Fork. Heat. Blanket. Cat. Socks. Phone. It made speech even more difficult then it already was. On top of struggling to make the sounds of the words, she could barely find them in her thoughts to begin with. Even eating was a challenge. She could hardly pour sugar into her tea or hold a mug of hot chocolate without spilling it all over herself. It was pathetic, she thought, but it was her inescapable daily reality.

The government-funded facility was clean, at least. Emma tried to reassure herself that that was something. Lonely and full of grumpy, decrepit old men, but clean. (Then again, who wouldn't be 'grumpy' after having their limbs blown off in a war? Bitter and dejected were better words to describe them.) The place smelled like sweat and too much timeworn aftershave, though, and it made her sick. Not only that, but it made eating even more difficult. Given her shaking hands, she avoided eating in public in the facility's dining room at all costs, instead preferring a quiet, messy meal in her own room. The worse time of the day, by far, though, was physical therapy.

They forced her to move, to bend what was left of her aching legs, to lift one-pound weights like a small child, and it was beyond humiliating. She was only into her fourteenth session by the time she threw her braces across the room in frustration, collapsing on the floor as they hit a nurse in the legs.

"Emma," the resident nurse – the one who'd just been hit – sighed. "Come on, love. You can't give up now. You're doing so well."

"I hav… haven't… I…"

"You have. You really have. You're making progress. You're talking more. Just don't give up."

But she found out the next day that the forgiving woman had transferred to another facility. A stunningly gorgeous nurse – unfortunately for Emma's level of focus – took her place.

"I'm Regina," the woman told her softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "And hopefully, I'm going to be the one to help you get better."

"I'm… n-never… g-g-going t-to-"

"Oh, of course you will! Not all brain and nervous system damage is permanent, dear, and your doctors believe you will make nearly a full recovery. Of course, you'll need… the prosthetic leg… and possibly the braces… and I understand how horrible that must be for you… but you'll be walking steadily again and speaking better soon."

"Y-You d-don't k-know t-that!" Emma cried, throwing one of her braces to the floor.

The beautiful brunette simply leaned down, picked it up, squeezed the young woman's hand, and secured it back in her grip.

"Come on, Emma. Don't give up. Let's do this together, okay?"

"I'm n-not… n-not y-your… p-pet p-roject," the blonde managed to protest.

"No," Regina flatly agreed. "But you're my patient, and I'm not going to give up on you."

Against her own free will, Emma found herself constantly turning her head to stare at the beautiful nurse, watching her as she smiled brightly with every shaky, pathetic step the blonde took forward. That smile was infectious, but Emma focused almost all of her attention on subduing her own. She refused to be happy about this change in treatment. She refused to be someone's personal project. She almost wanted to give up just to put the young woman off and defeat her overly-cheerful and attitude. Her intense optimism irritated Emma to no end, and part of her – the part that wasn't nearly drooling from the woman's radiance – wanted to wipe that precious smile right off her face.

When the woman put her hands just under Emma's arms as the blonde began to stumble and looked like she might fall, she shouted, "D-Don't! I… I c-can-"

"Emma, it's okay to need help. Soon, you won't need any. Just let me help you now, okay? Let me-"

"N-No!"

"Alright," the brunette sighed, pushing a frustrated hand through her long locks of hair. "Why don't we call it a day and start again tomorrow?"

As Emma stared at her, she wondered just how soft her hair really was. She could smell the woman's intoxicating shampoo when she stepped closer, and the delicious scent of her perfume on top of that certainly did nothing to help the blonde's focus.

Finally, once she'd remember that the gorgeous nurse had specifically asked her a question, she answered, "F-Fine."

So the nurse helped Emma into her wheelchair and pushed her back to her room, where she positioned her in front of the open window, then asked, "Is this okay?" When her patient nodded, saying nothing, Regina said, "Have a good night, Miss Swan. I'll see you tomorrow."

Emma wanted to turn her head, to see the woman one more time before she left the room – she even tried to – but her head wouldn't turn 'round enough for her to watch her leave. Instead, she shut her eyes to block out the sun – it was far too bright and triumphant, and it's joy mocked her pain – and waited until sleep found her while she sat in her chair.

The next few days were torture. The physical therapy grew more and more intense with every session, and it left Emma in excruciating pain. What was worse, though, was the ache in her gut that she felt every time the woman sweetly said her name.

"You can do it, Emma," Regina would say softly. "I know you can. Don't give up."

Half of her wanted to quit, just to spite her, and the other half wanted to push harder to impress the nurse, to get better just for the sake of proving the woman right. It was a battle she fought every day, but more and more, the side of her that wanted to give up won over, until one day, she finally refused to cooperate.

"Emma," the nurse sighed. "If you refuse treatment, you won't get better, and they won't let you stay here."

"I d-don't c-c-care," the blonde told her defiantly, bright green eyes staring into deep, dark brown.

"I think you do. I think you care a lot. And you know something?"

Emma pressed her lips together, refusing to answer. She wasn't going to cater to this woman's desire to pacify her and fill her with over-sensitive, mushy bullshit.

"I care about you," Regina finally said, giving in to her patient's silence. "I want to see you get better."

"I'm n-not… n-not…"

"You will get better!" the brunette cried, clearly starting to become frustrated with Emma's stubbornness and negativity. "You just have to try!"

"N-No!" Emma shouted, continuing to sit still as she threw her crutches down on the ground.

"I'm not giving up on you! You can protest all you want, but I will not give up on you. I know you can do this. I know you can."

"I d-don't w-want t-t-to."

"Oh, Emma," the nurse sighed heavily, kneeling down in front of Emma's chair and putting her hand's on the woman's knees. (The soldier was too shocked by the physical stimulation to rebel and push her away.) "I know this is hard. I know it is. I've worked with lots of vets who have been in the same shoes you are. You just have to push through this and keep trying to get better. You will get better."

This fight continued for weeks on end, with Emma only giving the bare minimum amount of effort to continue her treatment. One thing that was certainly improving was Emma's speech, and as the days went on and the treatment grew more and more difficult, her words grew more and more colorful.

"F-Fuck!" Emma screamed, once again performing her signature move of throwing her crutches down on the floor.

"Em, you've got this. Please don't stop now," Regina pleaded with her, kneeling down in front of her as she sat in her wheelchair. "I believe in you."

But the blonde was too captivated by the nurse's all-consuming beauty to respond. It quelled her anger and stifled her rage. Worse, it made her heart race.

"W-Well, d-don't," she finally said, her words coming faster and more confidently, but still jumbled by her stutter.

When the young woman took her hands and gently squeezed them, Emma roughly pushed her hands away.

"S-Stop it!" Emma cried.

"I care about you," the brunette repeated. "I'm gonna help you get through this, no matter what it takes."

"W-Why do you c-care?"

"I care about… about all my… patients…"

Emma turned her face away, disgusted by her own desire to hear that she was unique and wanted. It was impossible to shake, but it was also nearly impossible to bear. She couldn't help the way she looked at the woman, her eyes full of painful desire. It was embarrassing. Pathetic, Emma told herself. Ridiculous. You're a goddam cripple. What would an angel want with a pitiful wretch like you? But somehow, every day, light radiated from the caring nurse, and she continued to exude unending confidence in Emma's recovery. This only made the feelings worse as the blonde tried to fight and subdue them. It made her want to give up, just to push the young woman away for good to end the emotional and physical torture of their encounters.

One day, without really meaning to, though, she made a breakthrough.

"Emma, you did it!" the nurse cried happily, loudly clapping her hands together in excitement. "That was ten whole yards on your own without tripping or using the railing!"

"I…" Emma tried, but no other words came out as she finally allowed herself to lean against the railing, then waited for the nurse to help her back to her chair.

When she saw that Emma was making no other moves, Regina called out, "Walk back, Emma. You can do it!"

Wanting to reject the request, but unable to placate her desire to please her doting nurse, Emma made the walk back, only falling at the very end, crying out in frustration as both her own knee and her prosthetic one gave out from under her. Regina caught her just in time, with her arms under Emma's, their bodies close enough to feel the breath on each other's cheeks.

"I… That was…" Regina tried, but fell deeply into Emma's green eyes, which were shining brightly for the first time since they'd met.

Normally, the look in Emma's eyes was dark and forlorn. Frustrated. Sometimes even hateful. But now, held tightly in the beautiful nurse's arms, her eyes were ablaze with something other than anger.

"Th-Thank you," the blonde managed, her face turning red, half from the effort of remaining upright without her braces, and half from embarrassment caused by her proximity to the gorgeous woman who was holding her so protectively.

"I'm so proud of you," Regina breathed, unable to break her eyes away from Emma's enchanting gaze.

"Y-You're…"

"Hmm?" Regina asked, of course, assuming that the woman's hesitation was due to a loss of words or the ability to speak them. "Go ahead, Emma."

However, for once, Emma was not hesitating due to a loss of words. She was held back by her own nerves.

Before she could back out or retract what she'd been about to say, she managed to blurt you, "Y-You're b-beautiful."

Instantly, the nurse turned bright red as she started to pull away, gently helping the woman into her chair.

"Oh, Emma," she finally said. "Please, don't say that. I'm-"

"It's t-true."

"Emma, I'm not… I'm not beautiful. I'm plain and… nothing special."

"Y-You're sp-pecial to me."

The nurse's mouth fell open as she stared at her patient.

"P-Please d-don't flirt with me…" Regina nearly begged, taking her turn to stutter her words.

"I'm sorry. I'm s-sure you have a lovely b-boyfriend who t-takes good c-care of you," Emma muttered, almost under her breath, sounding dejected and miserable.

"No, actually," Regina laughed weakly, finally beginning to sense Emma's emotional pain. "It's been years since I had a boyfriend. Daniel was killed on his first tour of Afghanistan."

"S-Shit… I'm s-sorry."

"It's alright. Of course, it's why I do this now. I want to help veterans who've served our country bravely, like you. I want to help as many people heal as I can."

"Like me?"

"Of course. I'm very invested in your recovery, Emma."

"Just another p-patient, huh?"

"Not exactly…"

"What?"

"You're special to me, Emma. I don't know how else to tell you."

"W-What does that mean?"

"It means… It means, if things were different…" Emma's eyes went wide, anticipating what she knew the woman wouldn't say, until Regina continued, "I'm being stupid and inappropriate. I apologize. Please, forgive me. Forget I said anything. I-"

"You m-mean if I wasn't a disgusting, c-crippled freak with a revolting p-prosthetic leg?"

"Emma!" Regina gasped. "It has absolutely nothing to do with that! Your injuries don't change anything!"

"W-What then?"

"I'm your nurse! It would be grossly inappropriate for me to-"

"If I g-get better… I go home, r-right?"

"Well, yes… Of course… Why are you asking?"

"B-Because then you wouldn't b-be my nurse."

"Emma…"

"Isn't that t-true?"

"I…"

"Isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Then h-help me get better, so things can be d-different, like you s-said."

"Emma, I couldn't… You're a patient…"

"B-But I won't be soon."

"Emma, we can't."

"It's because I'm a f-freak, isn't it?"

"You're not a freak! You were severely injured and suffered physical and neurological damage. All that means is that we need to get you better. I care about that more than anything."

"And m-my leg?"

"What about it?"

"D-Doesn't it d-disgust you?"

"Of course not."

"Bring me to my room," Emma said abruptly. "I'm tired, and it hurts."

Eyes wide and surprised, Regina did as she was told, pushing the wheelchair back to the woman's room. When the nurse knelt in front of her, though, Emma reached out and grabbed her wrists for the first time, pulling the woman forward until their lips were painfully close.

"K-Kiss me, then," the blonde pleaded. "If I r-really don't disgust you."

"Emma, I can't!" the woman cried, trying to pull away, but Emma used what little strength she still had to hold the woman still.

"Please. I j-just want to feel like I'm not a f-freak…"

"You want me to kiss you just so you can feel normal?!"

"N-No! I want to f-feel like you d-don't think I'm a freak!"

"I don't, but I can't, Emma!"

"Then k-kiss me." When the woman hesitated, Emma added, "Kiss me or g-get out and get me another n-nurse."

"What, you don't want to be my patient unless I kiss you?"

"No. I just c-can't stand to feel this way anymore and n-not have it be… be…" Emma cursed herself for forgetting the word, then finally found it and said, "r-reciprocated."

Greatly surprised by Emma's choice of words, Regina stared at her with pride and relief in her eyes.

"See?" she finally breathed. "You're getting better. Three months ago you didn't even remember that word."

"You make me r-remember."

"Oh, Emma…"

"You do. When I'm with you… I… I remember. And n-not just the accident and all the b-bad things."

"I'm so proud of you."

"Kiss me, R-Regina."

Unable to resist the woman's earnest request, the nurse leaned in, breaking every rule she'd bought into for years, and pressed their lips together in a soft, chaste kiss.

"You're almost ready to go home," Regina said, after breaking away slowly.

"Then h-help me g-get better, send me home, and b-be with me…."

"Em…"

"You know, I've n-never let anyone c-call me Em before."

"Oh! I'm sorry… I didn't realize… I didn't know it bothered you…"

"It d-doesn't, coming from you. You're s-special."

A blush rose to the nurse's cheeks as her gaze drifted away, towards the floor, bringing a rare smile to Emma's face. She didn't hesitate before reaching out with a trembling hand to lift the young woman's chin until their eyes met again.

"S-Say something," Emma pleaded, wanting to hear, in that very moment, every private thought she'd ever had.

Her desire to get to know her nurse was strong and pervasive in her thoughts throughout her days. When her mind drifted, it drifted to Regina. The woman's warm, brown eyes… her soft, dark hair… her full, red lips. Everything Emma had imagined about their first kiss had been true.

When the beautiful nurse finally did speak, though, all she could manage was Emma's name.

The blonde sighed and leaned back in the wheelchair, turning her attention to the trees just outside the window, and the birds calling to each other from their branches. They, like Regina's patient, were looking for someone to heal their loneliness. But, for Emma, it wasn't just about that. It was something deeper with Regina. Something more. Something that she couldn't explain, but craved anyway.

"S-Something else," the blonde finally requested. "Even th-though I like the way you say my name."

"I don't know what to say. I… This is wrong. I can't do this. You're my patient, for God's sake! It's taking advantage of you. It's practically transference."

"That applies to a psychologist and their p-patient, not to a n-nurse and theirs. Th-There are no rules about us, except for the ones y-you're making yourself."

"I can't, Emma. I'm sorry. I just can't."

"What the f-fuck, R-Regina? You just-"

"I know. And I shouldn't have. I apologize. I truly am sorry," the woman said, begging with the tone of her voice for Emma to understand. "We're going to have to find you a new nurse."

"W-What?"

"I can't. Not after what I just did to you."

"You d-didn't do anything to me! W-We-"

"Emma, please understand. It's just not right. It's taking advantage of you when you're vulnerable and dependent on me!"

"I'm not f-fucking d-dependent on you!"

"You are, though. We both know that. And that's okay. It's just… I can't… I can't be what you think you want me to be."

"W-What I know I want you to be."

"Emma," the nurse sighed heavily, holding her head in her hands. "Please."

"G-Get out," the blonde said slowly. "G-Get out of my r-room."

"Emma, I-"

"Just get the f-fuck out."

So Regina turned her back on her patient and walked away, guilt-ridden and confused.

Emma found out soon, from the nurse who replaced her – a middle-aged woman with cold blue eyes – that not only had Regina given up on being her nurse, she'd given up on working at that particular rehabilitation center altogether and taken a job just over an hour away. This seemed somewhat easier than having to see the woman around the facility, or around the neighborhood, if she ever managed to get out of inpatient care.

Now she wasn't motivated to get better to be with Regina. She was motivated to get better to get away from the unfeeling nurse who had replaced her, and the dependent lifestyle she was living. She worked hard over the next few weeks, but the going was slow, and she made little more progress. It wasn't until another three months or so had passed that she finally got the okay to transition to independent living, while still coming in for outpatient treatment and physical therapy three times a week.

As soon as she opened the door to her new apartment – which was certainly a struggle while using her braces – she immediately fell into a memory of the one woman she no longer wanted to think about.

"If you need anything," Regina had said, towards the beginning of their working relationship, "I'm gonna leave my cell phone number right on this card on your nightstand, okay?"

A few other nurses from the facility had helped her move her things back into her apartment before her arrival, and she was instantly stung by the pang of fear that the card may not have been transported with the rest of her things. As much as she hated to think about Regina, the thought of losing her only method of contacting the compassionate woman terrified her.

She shuffled clumsily into her bedroom to find a small box placed on her bed. Throwing her crutches to the side and leaning up against the frame of the bed for support, she began to dig through it, searching for her one tie to the woman she'd fallen so hard for, even though it hurt to think about. It'll just be a comfort, she reasoned with herself. I'm not really going to call her. It's just… just in case. Luckily for her frazzled nerves, she found the card at the very bottom of the box. The elegant handwriting stared up at her, and the numbers in red ink seemed to lift from the page, while the woman's name, which she had written out at the top, suddenly became bold in her eyes.

"No," she spat. "I'm not calling her."

She made it three whole days without dialing the number, but on the third day, after her first therapy session as an outpatient, she walked over to the nightstand beside her bed where the card was placed carefully next to a candle and stared down at it.

"Don't, Emma," she warned herself. "She'll probably just hang up anyway."

But of course, she caved in to the desire a few hours later as her shaking hands dialed the number.

The nurse answered the call on the second ring, saying, "Regina Mills speaking."

"Hi… Regina… Um… It's… It's Emma."

"Emma," the brunette breathed into the receiver. "Wow."

"Look, I'm sorry. I just… I had your n-number, and I… I just wanted to tell you that I'm… I'm out. Going in for outpatient three times a week, but living on my own."

"Em, that's wonderful!"

Oh, God, Emma groaned silently. Why'd she have to call me 'Em?'

"Th-Thanks."

"You sound great!"

"Yeah. I'm… I'm doing a lot better. It's… It's easier to find and make the words now. When I'm not… you know… nervous."

"Well, you do sound nervous, but your voice is strong. How are you walking?"

"I… I still stumble and have trouble with it, but it's really getting better. Th-They actually said I can probably get rid of the braces after a while, once my muscles fully retrain themselves."

"Emma, that's wonderful! I'm so happy to hear you're doing well."

"I'm… I'm happy to hear your voice again…" There was silence on the other end of the line as Emma waited for a response that didn't come, until finally, she said, "How are you? How's… How's your new job?"

"It's about an hour away at a different rehab facility. The patients are… difficult. Mostly older veterans. I don't think any of them are really interested in getting better or improving their situations. They're bitter and combative, which I can't blame them for. It's just hard to want to help them so badly when they don't want to be helped. It's in a very pretty rural area, though. I like taking my patients outside to see the sun. I think it does them well, you know?"

"Yeah…" Emma said slowly, thinking about all the times the nurse had pushed her wheelchair outside for her to enjoy the grounds.

Of course, Emma's rehabilitation center had been in the city, and there had only been limited foliage for her to see. She longed to be around more green things, more trees, and fewer people. Less bustle and rush. Less rudeness. Fewer entitled rich people. More humble folks with better attitudes. Especially at her newly slowed pace, she wished that she could be around people who were in less of a hurry and wouldn't grow irritated with her lack of haste.

Finally, Regina spoke, her voice softer and a little bit lower than it had been, saying, "Emma… It's good to hear you too."

"At least I don't sound like a complete r-retard anymore."

"Hey!" the brunette snapped. "Don't use that kind of language, alright? You didn't sound like a 'retard,' and that's a horribly offensive word to use anyway. You should know that."

"Sorry," Emma muttered quietly, just loud enough for Regina to hear her.

There was another long pause between them as Emma pictured the disappointment and frustration in the nurse's face caused by her words, feeling guilty for what she'd said and knowing full well why the woman had gotten upset.

Feeling even worse as the moments passed in silence, the blonde finally said, "I really am sorry. It was a s-stupid thing to say. I apologize. I really didn't mean to offend you."

"It did offend me," Regina told her, "but I know you didn't mean for it to, and I forgive you."

"Thank you, Regina. Anyway, did you move away to be closer to your job, or are you still living around here?"

"No, I stayed around here. The commute sucks, because I really don't like to drive, but I guess it's alright."

"Well… You know… I'll be done with outpatient in a few months. You could come back and work at the facility here, if you like it better."

"I did like it better, actually."

"What's so good about this place?"

"You, Emma."

"What?"

"Every day I saw your face was a good day. Even the days you were difficult and combative like some of the people I work with now. In the end, you were working so hard… It made me so proud, and I just loved seeing that smile light up your face again."

"Hey, who said I smiled before?"

"There, um… There were some pictures in your medical files… from before your accident."

"It wasn't a fucking accident, Regina. I got fucking brain damage, permanent spinal damage, and my fucking leg blown off. I was nearly paralyzed. Does that sound like a goddam accident to you?"

"Shit, Emma. I'm sorry… I… I didn't mean it like that. I know it wasn't an accident. I just… The word just… I wasn't thinking. I'm so sorry…"

"Yeah, whatever. Look, I should go. I just wanted to tell you that I'm out. If it's alright with you, I'll call you when I'm done with outpatient so you can come back and not worry about seeing me."

"Emma…"

"What?"

"I do want to see you."

"What?"

"I want to see you."

"Why?"

"Because I miss you, Emma. I miss your smile… your lips…"

Emma went gravely silent, soaking in the words she'd been longing to hear. It was more than she ever could have hoped for.

"I…" she finally tried, but got stuck before the sentence could finish.

"It's okay if you don't want to see me."

"N-No, it's n-not that! I… I just thought you…"

"I know. I thought I did too, but I was just scared. I was scared to break that trust with you. I was scared to fall in love with a patient. But more importantly, I was scared to fall in love at all. That's why I really left. I felt guilty for what I'd done, and I was terrified of my feelings for you."

"I…"

"I'm so sorry. I fucked up so badly. I should've come to see you."

"What? Really?"

"Yeah. Really. I'm a complete idiot. I just… I don't know. I was terrified."

"There're no rules about us."

"I know. It just feels wrong."

"You're not taking advantage of me."

"You were vulnerable."

"I know, but that doesn't change how I feel about you, or w-why I feel that way. I didn't f-fall for you because you were my nurse. I fell for you because you're b-beautiful, and smart, and your smile lights up the room. Because you care about me. Because I feel like I can accomplish things when I'm with you. I don't feel like a w-waste of space when you're with me."

"You're definitely not a waste of space, Emma. You're a wonderful woman."

"I don't know. Now that you're not here, I feel shit again. It's like you v-validated everything about me. You made me feel like I could do something with my life. But now you're not here, and it feels different. I know I'm never going to work again. But I don't want to be on disability for the rest of my life. I don't want to be d-dependent on other people, you know?"

"Soon, you won't be. You might not be in a condition to work again, but you'll certainly be able to take care of yourself."

"What makes you so sure that I'll recover all the way?"

"Because I saw that fire in you, and I know you can do it."

Emma sighed and rubbed her temple with one hand while clutching her cell phone tightly in the other.

"I don't know. The only fire I've ever actually felt was for you."

"W-Was?" Regina asked cautiously, her face warm with embarrassment at her own question.

"Is. Currently. It's just hard when you're… you know… I mean… I haven't seen you in months."

"Do you want to change that?"

"If you do, then of course. You're all I can th-think about, Regina."

"You mean that?"

"I see your beautiful face every time I close my eyes."

"I'm not beautiful."

"You're right. You're not. You're gorgeous."

This earned a nervous laugh from the brunette, who then countered, "You're ridiculous. And a little bit crazy."

"I have a feeling you like the crazy ones."

"Well, it certainly puts a little spice in my life. You were a difficult one to help, you know. Battled me right up to the last few weeks of our time together."

"Yeah, I know… I'm s-sorry. I just wasn't comfortable with who I was. I wasn't confident in my own ability to get better."

"How'd things go with the nurse who replaced me?"

"Ugh! She was a fucking grumpy witch."

Again, Emma earned a laugh from Regina, who said, "I'm sorry to hear that, sweetie. Most nurses at V.A. hospitals are. Even some of the young girls are pretty bitchy."

"I'm just sorry you couldn't have been there to see my discharge. I almost cried. It's so good to be sleeping in my own bed."

"I'm sorry I didn't see it too. I don't like pulling overnights there and having to sleep in those beds. The conditions really are pretty crap. I try to make the best of it, though…"

After a long pause, the blonde sighed, "It's so good to hear your voice again."

"It's good to hear you too, Emma. I… I wish I could be there to see you walking better too."

"Then come see me after work. I'm just hanging out here for the rest of the night."

"I'm out already, actually. I just pulled into my driveway, and I'm still sitting in the car."

"What do you drive?"

"A 2015 Mercedes."

"Oooh! Nice car!"

"Thanks. My parents bought it for me, which is totally pathetic. Anyway, how's your apartment? Did they help you get everything set up?"

"Not really," Emma chuckled. "They just kind of left me and the boxes alone to make friends."

"What the hell! I'll be over to help you get unpacked and organized tonight, as soon as you want me to be there."

"I'm at 14 Chatham St. right near d-downtown, but you really don't have to help me unpack. I've got it under-"

"No. I want to. It'll go faster with two people, and if there's stuff you don't want me to see, you can just tell me where-"

"There's nothing I'd hide from you. It's not like I have a porn stash. Though, I p-probably should now."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, it's not like I'm ever going to have sex again," Emma answered, forcing another nervous laugh.

"Why not?"

"Are you serious? Who's going to want to f-fuck a woman recovering from brain and spinal damage with her leg amputated from the thigh down? It's disgusting."

"Emma! It's not disgusting! There's nothing wrong with you! I know you're going through a hard time right now and that you're struggling, but that doesn't mean that no one would be sexually attracted to you."

"Oh, yeah? Who's going to be sexually attracted to s-someone like me, other than someone with a gross fetish for amputated limbs?"

"Um… I…"

"You what?"

"I am."

"W-What?"

"I'm sexually attracted to you."

"I… What?"

"I think you heard me."

There was another long pause in the conversation before Emma finally said, "Come over."

"I'll be there in thirty minutes. I'm bringing food. What do you want?"

"I really don't want you to buy me food… but I'm totally graving a steak and cheese sub."

"Done. See you in thirty."

To be continued...