A/N: PETER/EMMA (PEMMA) IS MY SHIP!!!! I've been waiting for three years to find a ship for Peter that I can stick with (because don't get me wrong, Peter/Daphne is totally amazing, but it wasn't canon and they basically never met), and HERE IT IS!!!! I'm writing tons of Pemma oneshots based on the Cello Thing today.
People don't come into my life very often. After the accident, I cut off pretty much all contact with my family. As for my friends, they meant well, but they didn't know how to deal with it. None of them knew sign language, and although a few of them tried to learn, the rest drifted away. I suppose I didn't help much. I had never been hugely social to begin with, and once I actually had something stopping me from communicating normally, I just... cut myself off.
Before, I was a trauma nurse, working in the E.R. But I didn't consider myself fit to do that job anymore, being unable to hear shouted instructions, and so I asked to be transferred to the records department. Requests submitted in writing, and headphones so that the rest of the world would shut up and quit trying to break through barriers they didn't even realize were there. A nice, quiet job that never made me feel deaf.
So no, people don't come into my life for more than a few minutes at a time. They hand me the clipboard with their words all spelled out in plain English that I can understand. I give them what they want, and they go away. Aside from the few people who I can call my friends, no one ever communicates with me beyond that. They're in my life, and then they're not. No one passes through my little corner of the world more than once.
Which was why I was so amazed to see the same face twice in one day.
I was so busy watching the glimmering lights that symbolized the sounds I missed so much that I didn't even notice the small group of people that had clustered around to hear me play. When I looked up, I saw them. But at the same time, I didn't see them.
Because the only thing I could see was his face. The handsome paramedic from this morning, suddenly reappearing in my life. It was such an unexpected coincidence, I nearly dropped the bow. He was watching me with his head tilted to one side. As our eyes met, his lips quirked up in a questioning smile.
It was the most connected I had felt with anyone for a very long time, and it scared me. For years now, I had worked hard to shut everyone else out so I wouldn't have to feel the sting of my "condition." But suddenly here was this man, popping up for a second time, looking at me with an expression I was afraid to interpret.
My cheeks flushed. But I wasn't embarrassed by the crowd. I was embarrassed by him. It was like he knew something about me that I didn't. Like he knew me. Like maybe he wanted to get to know me better. It completely freaked me out, and I set aside the cello. Leaping to my feet, I handed the bow back to the owner, and then I ran. I wasn't sure where I was going, but I just knew that I had to get away from him.
Because if I let him in, then I would lose the solace that had been my fortress for so long.
I wouldn't be alone anymore.