Note: I've been working hard to get this chapter completed and posted before the Season 7 premiere and just squeaked it in! This chapter is definitely a little fluffier than the previous ones but not without it's surprises...

Wednesday Morning, Portland Medical Center

When Killian's regular day nurse, Jackie, came on shift at 7AM, she was pleased to find that his appetite was returning although she was still mildly concerned about his lingering low-grade fever. She'd read the evening nurse's notes that he'd been given permission to try a cup of broth and if he managed to keep that down, they'd try something a little more solid in a few hours. He'd pleaded his case for a shower but the request had to be put on hold until Jackie could speak to Dr. Wallace - needing to be certain that it was safe to disconnect him from all of the machines and monitors - but she promised to bring him the broth while he awaited the doctor's response. He'd hoped to be free of the tubes and wires before Henry returned from the parking garage, but that wouldn't be happening.

His wait did end up being shorter than the nurse had expected though and only minutes after she'd brought him the cup of steaming chicken broth, she returned with a basket of supplies and a stack of towels. In the time she was gone, he'd managed to drink about a third of the liquid – determining quickly that it was much easier to sip it directly from the rim of the bowl rather than to attempt using the spoon. He really wanted to drink it all, but his stomach wasn't on the same page as his head so the rest would have to wait. The nurse didn't appear at all surprised that he hadn't finished it, not even commenting as she set the bowl off to the side so it wouldn't get spilled while she got him ready to bathe.

Figuring the fifteen year-old really didn't want to witness whatever weirdness and hilarity would likely result from his mother's attempt to help his stepfather shower for the first time in days, Emma had sent Henry to the cafeteria for breakfast with instructions not to return for at least half an hour. He eagerly snagged a ten dollar bill from her wallet, promising to bring her back coffee and a cinnamon roll, then hurried out the door. Once the teen was on his way, Jackie drew the privacy curtain and began talking them through everything she was doing as she untethered her patient from the equipment.

"It'll take me just a few minutes to disconnect all of these leads and then I'll remove the old dressings from each of the incisions. The IV has to stay in place, but it's portable. You'll just need to be very careful not to dislodge it," she stated as she went to work peeling away adhesives that held various wires in place – most of which Emma didn't even have the foggiest idea what they'd been for. A few alarms and buzzers sounded as the connections were severed, but the nurse was unfazed, switching off each machine that was no longer in use.

"Now," she continued, "I need you to take a deep breath and hold it for a moment, Mr. Jones. You may experience a little discomfort…" Killian knew precisely what she meant, instinctively holding his breath as the nurse pulled the catheter free. "Okay – you're all set there…"

"That's it?" he exhaled heavily as he asked for confirmation that she was done, not having felt much of anything despite the sensitive nature of the area in question.

"You're free of the catheter," Jackie laughed. "Wasn't so bad now, was it?" Even Emma had to chuckle at the relief evident on Killian's face, quite thankful that this step had actually been quick and painless or he'd likely still be complaining. "Okay – now let's get those bandages off…" Lowering the pale green gown to his waist to access the gauze patch on his chest, she swiftly pulled the tape loose from the edges and removed the entire covering, taking a visual inspection of his sutures to ensure that nothing looked out of the ordinary. "Sutures look great – no seepage or discoloration. Why don't you lean forward a bit so I can get to the dressing on your back now?" He shifted his center of gravity forward so Jackie could reach the entry wound and as he lowered his head, he was able to get his own first look at the surgical incision that stretched across the lower portion of his chest and a portion of his upper abdomen. Considering the narrow blade that had pierced his body, he was surprised at the length of the opening the surgeons had cut into him to reach and repair the internal damage but what had him scrunching his nose in disgust wasn't the wound itself but rather the fact that the medical team had shaved a broad patch of his dark chest hair in order to make that incision. His eyes darted from his shaven chest to his wife's face, glaring at her as she mouthed the words: It will grow back.

"It's not going to be a problem for him to get the stitches wet?" Emma wondered, ignoring his pining over missing chest hairs.

"Not at all. As long as you don't try to scrub over them, it should be perfectly fine. Best advice is just be gentle for the first day or two," Jackie replied as she disposed of the used gauze in the hazardous waste receptacle before going over the rest of her instructions. "Alright, Mr. Jones – now comes my question for you – do you want to attempt to walk to the bathroom or would you prefer if I brought in a transport chair?" His gaze immediately met his wife's, seeking her approval as she'd likely be the one tasked with catching him should he fall on his face.

"I can help get you there if you want to try walking…," Emma answered, already knowing what his intent would be.

"I'd like to attempt using my own two feet then," he insisted.

"Okay then, I'm going to have you get out on this side so you're less likely to get the IV tubing tangled," Jackie responded as she moved around to his right side, reaching over his head to remove the two transparent bags of fluid that hung above him, placing them onto a hook atop a tall metal pole with wheels attached to the bottom. This was apparently what she meant by the IV being portable. "Swing your legs toward me now," she instructed as she tugged away the bedcovers. Eager to be out of the bed for sure this time, he shifted around to let his bare feet drop to the cool tile floor. He grasped the bedside rail tightly, intending to use it for support while Emma positioned herself at his left, her fingers wrapping around his bicep ready to help him take that first tentative step.

"Easy now…," Jackie said as she stood in front of him. "Let's see if you can stand up and hold your balance…"

He quickly realized that standing and remaining that way was a bit more difficult than he'd thought, but damn, it felt good to be standing on his own accord – well, mostly on his own accord. He felt a bit like a fool but after spending three full days in that bed, but he was thoroughly enjoying this freedom – finding himself somewhat amused that this petite little ginger-haired woman was so confidently standing before him as though she'd be fully capable of breaking his fall. He wasn't even certain if his lovely wife – strong as she was – could accomplish that task if he were to lose his balance right now. It also wasn't lost on him that the flimsy gown the hospital provided was covering very little of his person right now, leaving his derriere in full view of anyone who should walk into the room.

"Think you can handle him from here, Mrs. Jones?" Jackie asked.

"I think so. It's not the first time I've had to shoulder his weight," Emma responded with a side-eyed glance toward her husband.

"Just remember to take it slow," the amber-headed nurse reminded them. "Once you get in there, you'll find that there's a flip down shower seat and a handheld showerhead. Make use of them – trust me. Your lungs aren't fully recovered from nearly drowning and you've been inactive for several days so this is going to feel like a lot of exertion. I'll bring a chair when I come back because you'll probably want to use it. Last note – keep the water temperature on the lukewarm side if you can stand it. Don't want the water to be too warm or too cold when fighting off a fever. Now, any questions for me or is there anything you need?"

"I think we're good. I've got soap and shampoo with me and you're already brought us the towels. I brought some of his clothes with me – would it be okay for him to put those on instead of the gowns?"

"Whatever you're comfortable with – just nothing with any metal on it. Dr. Wallace wants to get some new images of his lungs so it'll be off to Radiology when I return so, try not to get too carried away."

What he'd thought would be a simple process – just a simple shower – quickly proved to be anything but. He'd initially foolishly thought that he'd be able to stand but any hope of that happening vanished the moment Emma turned on the water and a sudden panic washed over him – the all-too-recent memories of waves pummeling him flooding back the moment the spray struck his head. Emma had to turn off the faucet and coax him to sit down, eventually climbing into the shower stall with him – clothes and all. With the handheld shower head, she gradually helped him wash off, working her way from his feet back up to his head while he pushed away that momentary fear. By the time she reached his hair, it took three rounds of shampooing and rinsing to remove all of the grime and restore the normal luster and texture of his dark locks.

He apologized to her repeatedly as she helped him to dry off and get dressed first while she stood there dripping wet. She took it in stride, shaking her head and snickering at how ridiculous they looked. As if on cue, they heard a rap on the door and then the voice of nurse Jackie asking if they needed any help – which of course caused both of them to break out in rolling laughter.

"I think we could definitely use a hand," Emma managed to say in between giggles. "Did you bring that chair you mentioned?"

"Have it right here," Jackie replied as the bathroom door opened toward her and the very first thing the nurse saw was a very drenched Emma standing inside the doorway, tee shirt and jeans plastered to her body – well, mostly the front of her body.

"I'd really appreciate it if you could help us get him into that chair so I can dry off and change," Emma said with a chuckle. "This ended up being a lot more complicated than we'd thought and we both ended up getting a shower…"

"Of course. Hang on…," the nurse smiled as Emma stepped out of the way and Jackie brought the wheelchair into the close confines of the bathroom finding her patient much drier than his wife and partially clothed in a pair of navy blue pajama pants. All of his effort to take his simple shower had left him exhausted, his lungs burning as much as if he'd just run the entire length of Main Street and he was struggling to catch his breath. "Let's get you standing for a moment and I'll bring the chair to you…" It took her no time at all to get him situated and once seated, she wheeled him back into the main room while Emma made her way over to the chair by the bed where she'd left her duffel bag, leaving a trail of water droplets in her wake. She pulled out some clean clothes and ducked back into the bathroom to change while Jackie turned her attention to her patient. "How about we get those sutures covered back up while your wife is changing?" the nurse suggested, a notion that Killian was smart enough to realize wasn't actually a choice.

By the time Emma stepped out of the bathroom now clad in black twill pants and an oversized burgundy long sleeved tee shirt, Jackie had replaced the bandages on both of Killian's incisions and was helping him don the heathered dove grey tee shirt that he'd chosen earlier. Were he in Storybrooke, he likely would have selected the long-sleeved button up shirt instead as it fully covered his stumped arm but since everyone here, including Deputy McCallen, had already viewed his deformity and weren't horrified by it, he decided on simplicity.

Emma glanced over at the clock on the wall as she towel-dried her damp hair. It was just after 8:00AM so Regina would be on her way to pick up Henry soon, having promised to be there by 10AM. She hadn't yet heard anything from McCallen although that wasn't entirely surprising considering the number of people he needed to get in contact with this morning regarding the latest revelation in the case. She was certain that he'd let her know as soon as he could, but now that they had a suspect to pursue, Emma found herself growing impatient. She knew who had nearly killed her husband and now all she could think about was how they could catch him.

Killian had decided to stay seated in the wheelchair, not wanting to make the extra effort required to get back into bed before the nurse took him to this Radiology place. He wasn't really certain what that meant and he wasn't about to ask until the nurse stepped out of the room to see if they were ready for him. Once they were alone again, Emma tossed the damp towel onto the foot of the bed and strolled up behind her husband, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck and nuzzling her face into his nearly dry hair before he tilted his head back to gaze up at her.

"I missed this," she smiled as she kissed the center of his forehead.

"Aye, Love," he replied. "I promise, once I am healed, we shall make up for lost time…"

"Let's just focus on that healing part first, okay?" she laughed. "Hopefully, the images will come back clear enough that they'll let you go home."

"About that – what are these Radiology images everyone keeps talking about?"

"Radiology is the name of the science and the department. Basically, they use special machines that are capable of taking pictures of your insides so they can see things like broken bones and in your case, the amount of fluid still affecting your lungs. Don't you remember the X-rays they took of your broken ribs when you were hit by Greg's car during your stand-off with Gold?"

"Swan, there's much I remember about that evening, but alas, I don't recall anyone taking strange X-rated photographs of my innards…"

"X-rays, not X-rated. Very different things and I suppose you probably wouldn't remember. Pretty sure they had you pumped full of pain killers – assuming you were even conscious…"

"So, just how do they manage to take these images?" he wondered, uncertain as to whether he should be expecting invasive poking and prodding or should prepare himself for additional pain.

"It depends. Usually, you lie on a table and they position a special camera above you. I don't exactly know how it works, but it just takes a few minutes and its pretty much painless." She heard his audible sigh of relief at the painless part of her explanation. "If they end up doing an MRI, that's slightly different. It takes a lot longer because they take hundreds of pictures from different angles to get a more detailed image. Maybe Jackie can explain it to you on the way?"

"I'll be certain to ask…," he replied snidely as he heard the door creak open behind them.

"Everybody decent?" Henry called out, unwilling to even take a peek around the curtain until he was sure it was okay to do so.

"Yes – it's okay to come in," Emma responded with a snicker. "I guess we can put this curtain back now too." She gave the fabric a tug and walked it back to its place by the head of the bed but in retracting the curtain, her son threw her a quizzical glance as he noticed her long blonde hair hanging in damp, scraggly strands against her shoulders.

"Guess you decided to shower too?" the teen asked as he extended his hand toward her with an offering of a steaming hot cup of black coffee that Emma immediately snatched up.

"It wasn't exactly planned…," she replied with a mock scowl before breaking into a wide smile, "…but we managed anyway."

"I don't even want to know…," Henry said with an I've already heard too much expression on his face. "Forget I asked."

"We'll spare you all the gory details," she laughed. "But thank you for the coffee."

"No problem," Henry said. "I was going to bring you a cinnamon roll but they were all out and I wasn't sure what else to bring. I knew I wouldn't go wrong with coffee though."

"Absolutely! I'll find something later after I've heard back from Deputy McCallen."

"I wish you'd let me stay and help you out," the teen pleaded.

"I know, but honestly, I want you safely back in Storybrooke," Emma replied firmly. "Now that we have a suspect, the investigation could get a lot more intense and I do not want you to get caught in the middle. As soon as Killian is released from here, he'll be heading back to Storybrooke too."

"But how are you going to get the Jolly Roger back home?" Henry wondered. "She still needs the sail repaired and I don't think Killian will be able to climb the rigging himself right now…"

"The lad has a point…," Killian interrupted. "He does know how to replace the line. I made sure to teach him properly…"

"Let's just deal with catching the man who tried to kill you first. We'll worry about how to get the Jolly Roger back home later. I'm sure we can find some help with that once the rest of this crisis is over."

"Okay, Mom," Henry sighed, still dejected but understanding her point as well.

"Why don't you gather up your stuff?" Emma suggested. "Regina should be here soon and hopefully she won't be in a huge hurry to head back. I've got a favor to ask of her…" Emma started to say something else but was interrupted by a chime from her cell phone on the nightstand. "Hang on a sec…" She scooped up her phone and tapped on the screen to see her notifications, spotting an important message. "That's from McCallen," she read off. "He said Sgt. Haviland from Portland PD is going to meet us here around 9:30AM." That was only a little over an hour from now and roughly the same time that Regina was due to arrive. "You might have to stall your other mom, Kid."

"I can probably manage that," the teen assured her. "As long as Killian is up for a visitor?"

Just before 9AM, the nurse returned to let them know that the Radiology team was ready for Killian and before whisking him away, she advised Emma that they'd be gone for about an hour. Her pirate was still rather bewildered as to what he was about to experience and just a bit displeased that he wouldn't be present when his wife and the young deputy met with Sgt. Haviland so that he could learn more about this Donleavy person. Emma repeatedly assured him that she would fill him in on all details later but he still wasn't satisfied. He wanted to be privy to the investigation – after all, he was the one most afflicted.

Not long after the nurse departed with her griping husband, she received yet another text from McCallen with a request to meet him downstairs in the hospital lobby. She wasn't really sure why the deputy wouldn't just come up to the room so her inclination was to believe that he must have learned something that couldn't be shared in front of Killian - or possibly Henry – so she replied with an agreement to meet him in five minutes. Hopefully it meant he'd found something that would corroborate Killian's account, not further upset him.

She couldn't immediately locate McCallen in the busy lobby but she finally managed to spot him seated on a bench by the floor to ceiling windows to the right of the hospital entrance. He'd changed into jeans and a red plaid flannel shirt that looked as though it could have been proffered from her father's closet but she noted that his demeanor certainly didn't appear as casual as his attire. She zig-zagged her way toward him, dodging people as she drew her still soggy blonde locks back into a ponytail and wrapped a hair tie around them hoping McCallen wouldn't decide to question why she looked as though someone had tried to drown her.

"Sheriff," he greeted her as she rounded the reception desk. "Glad you got my message and were able to come down here a little early."

"No problem. Killian's down in Radiology having X-rays done and my son is getting his things together before going home so I had a few minutes free. Are we still meeting with Sgt. Haviland this morning?"

"Yes, he'll be here in a couple of minutes but I really wanted to go over a few things with you before our colleague gets here."

"Okay… is there something going on that you didn't want my husband to hear?" she wondered.

"No, no – nothing like that. I just have a feeling that Portland PD might insist on taking over this case and since Sheriff Lassiter said to let Haviland take the lead if they want it, I can't promise that they'll include you any longer. I explained how valuable you've been to my investigation, but it'll be up to him. He also might not want my help anymore so I felt I should take a moment to thank you. This case turned out to be a lot more complex than I'd expected and I was really in over my head. I appreciate everything you've done to help me boost my confidence…"

"Aaron…," she started to say that it wasn't necessary, finding herself slightly unnerved by his rambling and even a little bit worried.

"Please, let me finish… I might not get enough nerve to say this again…," McCallen looked more nervous in this moment than he had been since Emma had met the young deputy yesterday. She was concerned that she might have made him a little self-conscious by suddenly using his first name, but he drew in a deep breath and continued. "There was a reason that Sheriff Lassiter originally assigned this case to me – I was originally just tasked with finding out the identity of the John Doe amputee and how he'd ended up on the beach, but that was only because he thought I'd be a kindred spirit or something… I don't know…"

Emma had no idea where McCallen was going with his rambling, but clearly, whatever he was trying to say was important to him so she withheld judgement and allowed him to continue his tale.

"Anyway, the Sheriff thought I'd have more empathy toward your husband because I could relate to his disability…"

"Why would that matter?" Emma asked him, still not certain of the meaning behind his story so far.

"Because even though I spend most of my time sitting behind a desk, Sheriff Lassiter thought I should get a little experience in the field. He thought this would be an easy case for me – identify John Doe, find his family and hopefully learn who wounded him…"

"Okay, McCallen," she sighed. "You've completely lost me here." Her confusion had finally overwhelmed her and she had to know… "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm sorry… I know I'm rambling, aren't I? I'm so bad at this…"

"Bad at what?"

"Talking about myself," he sighed.

"Yourself? I'm definitely missing something here…"

"Yes, I'm afraid… There's something I've been trying to hide from you," he lamented. "I didn't want you to think of me as any less of an investigator if you learned they'd assigned a disabled deputy to your husband's case…"

"Disabled?"

McCallen slowly bent over and tugged at the denim of his right pant leg, raising it to reveal a silicone cuff fitted around his ankle and most of his calf. She could see that the bottom of that cuff was fitted to a metal joint which extended into the black leather high-topped combat-style boot he wore.

"I've gotten pretty good at disguising it so I look almost normal walking but just don't ask me to run," he gave her a shy, slightly embarrassed laugh after revealing his secret prosthetic foot and managing to make a joke about it.

"I honestly had no idea…," she replied, surprised by his revelation, but certainly not that he'd still be capable of doing his job. "Actually, I take that back… Yesterday when we drove over to meet with Jean Scott, I thought there was something different but I was honestly so distracted by everything that was going on with Killian that I figured it was just me that was off. Now that I think about it, it's because you were driving with your left foot!"

"Sheriff had that old Taurus modified especially for me – gas pedal on the left instead of the right. He's made sure to find ways to keep me on the job since I lost my foot. Maybe part of it is guilt because it happened while I was on the job, but I'm still grateful he kept me on as a deputy. He was just so certain that this would be a simple case to get me out of the office for a while but look how that turned out…"

"You lost your foot on the job? What happened – if you don't mind me asking?"

"No crocodiles involved here," he chuckled nervously, again wary of making light of his own situation. "I was out on a call one night and it was the beginning of winter and snowing like crazy. I don't remember much but I had my lights and siren on heading through an intersection when I was struck head on by a car driving on the wrong side of the road. The impact pushed the engine block and dashboard forward and while the airbag protected my upper body, my right foot got pinned under there somehow. By the time rescuers were able to cut me out of what was left of the car, I'd lost all feeling and circulation in that foot. Doctors at this same hospital tried to get blood flow back, but ended up having to amputate. It's been about two and a half years now, so in some ways, I'm still adapting, but I was determined that it wasn't going to beat me. I know it plays a huge part in my insecurities, but I try not to let it define me…"

"You know what's funny – for a long time, Killian did define himself by his disability. He used it to his advantage by showing people that he wasn't going to let it stop him and even turned his prosthetic into a weapon of sorts." She had to stop herself there before she accidentally divulged that her husband's preferred prosthetic actually was a weapon. "Now he's trying to just be Killian Jones – husband and deputy Sheriff. His prosthetic hand just an extension of him – nothing more, nothing less." It truly was the way she felt about his hook when he was wearing it and how she looked at his stump when he didn't have it on. It was always still just Killian.

"So, you don't feel like I'm not capable of continuing the investigation? That's part of what Sheriff Lassiter was worried about. He was concerned that I wouldn't be able to handle the case if things got too physical."

"Why would I be worried that you were incapable of seeing this case through to the end? I wouldn't think my husband would be incapable of doing his job with one hand, so why would I think that about your prosthetic foot? If we get into a chase situation, you let me do the running."

"You don't want me off the case then?"

"Of course not. Unless we absolutely have to turn everything over to Sgt. Haviland, I'd prefer we keep working together. You deserve to see this out too."

"Then I won't offer to give up the case – not without a fight. Thank you for trusting me with this, Sheriff."

"You don't need to thank me. Just help me put Donleavy and his cohorts behind bars and that'll be thanks enough."

"Alright then. Let's go see if Haviland is here. He's going to meet us in the parking garage across the street."

"Lead the way." She was more than ready to get this case moving forward.