Ashley Herman walked into the spacious physical therapy room to see her co-worker and friend Emma Swan absently passing a towel over one of the treatment tables.

"I think it's dry now, Ems."

"Huh?"

"The table. You were wiping it down when I left to put the equipment away four minutes ago," Ashley chuckled.

Emma looked down at the towel in her hand, then up at her assistant. "Oh. Yeah. Right. I guess I kinda zoned out."

Ashley didn't mention the fact that Emma had been zoning out quite a bit in the weeks since she'd found out that Neal Cassidy had been killed. Although her friend didn't talk about how sad she was, Ashley knew that it was always there, right under the surface of Emma's carefully guarded emotions.

So instead she asked, "Well, we've got Sergeant Jones arriving in about fifteen minutes. Do you want me to lay out all of the equipment that you need for him?"

"Yeah, thanks. I'm gonna take a look at his file again."

Emma walked over to the desk and picked up a folder from the top of the stack.

"Sergeant Killian Jones. Wrist disarticulation amputation of the left hand, and some muscular damage from the shrapnel," she reviewed as she walked back to join Ashley. "So let's set out some light weights and elastic bands of various strengths until we can get a feel for what he needs exactly."

Emma stood staring at the shelves for longer than necessary before her friend realized that she wasn't really focusing on the equipment.

"Hey. Why don't you take a little break. I can get this stuff ready," Ashley soothed, as she put her arm around Emma's shoulder and gently pulled her into a side hug.

"No, I've got this. Honestly," she added as she saw her assistant's eyebrows raise and her mouth start to open.

"So did you get a chance to talk to your dad last night?" Ashley questioned.

"Yeah, I called him right after supper. He was glad to hear from me."

"I'll bet he was. How's he doing?"

"Good. Busy. Ever since August started working part-time at that new lumber yard, and has been making recommendations for their woodworking business to the customers, their orders have really picked up."

"Did you talk to August too?" Ashley knew that Emma's adopted brother was one person that she would probably open up to.

"No, he was out on a date."

"Anybody serious?"

"Dad said he thinks this may be their fourth date. Which means they've likely been dating for months for all the information that August has probably shared with him," laughed Emma.

"But it helped talking to Marco at least, didn't it?"

Emma shrugged. "He just doesn't know what to say to me. If Mom was still alive, she probably would, but, you know, men have a harder time with things like this. Mom tried to prepare us all to go on without her by the time she died, but I doubt that she had told Dad how to deal with his daughter's heart getting broken 10 years in the future."

Ashley's own heart ached for her friend. She'd seen how happy Emma seemed to be in the few weeks that she had dated Neal. If anyone deserved happiness, it was Emma. She'd been abandoned at birth and raised in foster care until she was ten years old, when she was finally adopted by Marco and Penny Swan. They'd always longed for another child to be a sibling for their son August, but had never been able to have one. Since Emma and August were the same age, people often mistook them for twins, and as the two grew up, they were almost inseparable. Marco doted on his daughter and bragged about her to anyone who would listen.

However, it was Penny to whom Emma was the closest. She was the mother that Emma had always dreamed of as a little girl. They talked and laughed and shopped together, sharing secrets and wishes in conversations that often went long into the night. But when Emma was 17 years old, Penny lost her two year battle with cancer. Her mother had hoped to watch her daughter go to her senior prom and graduate, to watch her go on to college and get married, but it wasn't meant to be.

As a result of helping to care for her mother, Emma set her heart on becoming a Physical Therapist, and started at a community college in order to save some money. That's where she met Ashley, who was getting her Associate degree to become a Physical Therapist's Assistant. Emma went on to finish her four year degree, and then her PT doctorate. Right after that, she was hired to work at this Army base physical therapy office, where Ashley already worked as an assistant. Emma felt very lucky to be reunited with her friend and, even though she knew her skill and work ethic got her the job, she was sure Ashley had put in more than a few good words for her.

In the weeks since Neal's death, Ashley had seen her friend trying to push away her grief by working harder than ever. She was worried that one day, the dam would burst and Emma would break down. While she knew that the relationship between the two wasn't very far along, she also knew that Emma let very few people get close to her. It wasn't that she was prickly or difficult, she just tried to protect her heart from being hurt again. Ashley supposed it was a defense mechanism that developed during the first ten years of her life, when no one showed her the love that every child deserves. Then it was reinforced when she lost the one person she loved more than anyone else.

Emma finished organizing the equipment that Ashley had laid on the table, then turned to address her friend. "Would you mind going out front to meet Sergeant Jones and escort him back? Since it's his first therapy session, I'd like him to be greeted by one of us as soon as he arrives." Ashley nodded and headed toward the front desk, realizing that Emma had, once again, effectively ended a conversation that hit a little too close to home.

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At 28 years of age, Killian Jones could measure his life by tragedies. When he was 13, his mother died of congenital lung disease, and his father moved Killian and his 18-year-old brother Liam from Ireland to his home country, the United States. Four years later, his brother was killed in a Naval aviation training accident. Three years after that, his father died of a sudden heart attack and, with no family left and nowhere to go, Killian joined the Army. Twenty four days ago, he was injured in the IED explosion, and eight days later, Milah walked out on him.

Today he was starting his sessions with the physical therapist to strengthen his arm and prepare him for a prosthesis. He'd already had his preliminary appointment, at which the assistant helped him fill out all of his paperwork, and Dr. Swan performed her evaluation. He had to admit that the therapist was beautiful. He'd had to have been blinded by the blast not to notice that. And she seemed to be very good at her vocation, from what he could gather after their brief time together.

Still, he wondered if this therapy would even work. Maybe his arm was too damaged to be able to use an artificial hand. He knew that he shouldn't always think negatively, but in his experience, it was easier to just prepare for the worst instead of thinking positive thoughts, since those almost always got dashed. If he had his way, he'd just sit in his room at the barracks, and try to forget about the rest of the world. There was nothing in it for him anyway.

Killian arrived at the center, and struggled to push himself out of the Army-appointed car. Then he turned, thanked the Private who served as his driver, and limped to the entrance.

Once inside, he was greeted with a wide smile from the Physical Therapist's Assistant. "Nice to see you again, Sergeant Jones. Come right this way please." Killian dropped back to follow a few paces behind her in order to avoid any conversation. Ashley led him to a table covered with blue vinyl in the corner of the large room, and gestured for him to take a seat.

"I'm just gonna take some of your vital signs real quick before Dr. Swan gets started with you. Is that alright?"

Killian nodded and allowed her to take his temperature, blood pressure and pulse rate, while Ashley chatted with him about the weather and what they were going to do during his session. Killian nodded politely, but didn't say a word.

"Okay. Everything looks to be in order. Emma will be with you in just a couple of minutes. I'll go tell her you're ready."

Soon, in front of him, Killian noticed a pair of light green Vans. He dragged his eyes up to take in khaki pants and a maroon polo before he reached the therapist's face, though he didn't make eye contact with her.

Emma knew that the soldier was probably self-conscious about his amputated hand and the other wounds that were visible. But to her eyes, his handsomeness wasn't diminished by the angry-looking scars that were still healing on his face. He was definitely one of the most attractive men she had ever seen.

"Hello again, Sergeant Jones. Are you ready to get started?"

"Yes Ma'am," he said quietly.

"Please don't call me Ma'am," she chuckled. "You can call me Dr. Swan or Emma, Sergeant Jones."

"It's Killian", he replied, turning his head to the side to mutter, "since I won't be a Sergeant much longer." Emma heard him say it under his breath, but as much as she wanted to ask him if he was planning to take a medical discharge from the Army, she knew she shouldn't say anything. His intentions were his own business. She just needed to do her job to help him recover, so he could stay in the Army, if he chose to.

Emma motioned to his left arm. "We'll have to take your bandages off before we begin."

After a moment's hesitation, Killian lifted his arm. Emma began to undo the tape and unwind the gauze. When she got to the last layer, she went more slowly, being careful not to pull in case it was stuck to the nearly healed wound. Ashley had come back into the room and was taking the discarded dressing as Emma handed it to her.

"It looks like it's still healing well. Let me just check to make sure there's not too much pain." She looked up at him to see if he reacted. He remained still, with his eyes on the floor.

The therapist carefully examined his wrist, touching it here and there with a gloved finger.

"Does this hurt?" A shake of his head. "Any discomfort here?" Another shake. At one spot, he flinched as she touched it and Emma drew back. "Is that a tender spot?"

Killian shrugged. "Maybe just a bit." She had noticed at their first meeting that he spoke with a trace of an accent, which she couldn't place. She thought she might be able to if she heard him string together more than four words at a time.

"Well, it looks like we should be able to get some work done today. I'm assuming that Ashley told you what we intend to do?"

Killian nodded. "Yes Ma'am, I mean, Dr. Swan."

"What unit are you with?" she asked by way of conversation, trying anything to get the stoic soldier to open up to her, even just a little. He stated the number of his unit and Emma froze with the recognition. A hot sensation, like burning lava, travelled from the top of her head to settle in her stomach. She busied herself with rearranging the bands and weights that she intended to use for the therapy session, while trying to get her breathing and heart rate under control.

Neal's unit.

Killian Jones had been injured in the same blast that killed Neal.