Emma was lost in thought as she ate a chicken salad sandwich in her office. Her schedule was full of patients, but it was one in particular that was weighing on her mind far more often than any other. She had treated Killian Jones four times now and, despite seeing some slight improvements physically, she hadn't been able to reach him on any other level.
After calming herself down at that first session, Emma had worked with him for nearly an hour, showing him how to do the stretching exercises for his arm and thigh, which had also taken the impact from the blast, then massaging his muscles when he was done. In that time, he had barely said half a dozen words and never made eye contact with her. When she announced that the session was over, he nodded his thanks and left silently.
The next three sessions followed the same pattern. Robotic answers to her questions. Completion of the exercises slowly but steadily. Grunts of pain, but no admissions of it. Patiently waiting for the timer to go off so the post-treatment ice could be removed, then limping back out the door, having barely spoken a word.
Emma knew that there was probably more than the physical pain which was causing this man to seem so defeated. She was at a loss for how to help him. Who are you kidding, Emma? she thought to herself. You aren't dealing with your pain so well. How can you hope to help someone else who is hurting so badly?
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Killian looked at the clock and sighed. The car would be here in a few minutes to take him to his next physical therapy session. He subconsciously rubbed at his left wrist, massaging it in small circles the way that Dr. Swan had shown him. He had finally admitted to some pain, and she'd explained that when a limb is taken so traumatically, the amputee often experiences phantom pains. Then she'd given him some ideas of how to manage those pains when they occurred.
The sessions were helping. He could feel some strength returning to his arm and leg and that, along with the ringing in his ears finally diminishing, made him feel halfway human again. Not that it mattered. His body might feel better, but his heart was still in tatters.
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"That's enough, Jones. You're pushing yourself too hard."
Killian shook his head, flinging sweat in different directions. "I'm fine."
Emma put her forearms on the table and leaned over it until she was at eye-level with him. "I'm gonna let you in on a little secret. I'm pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me."
Killian ground his back teeth together before he gritted out, "I'm telling you the truth."
Emma straightened up. "Are you really sure that you are?"
The two of them stared at each other as Killian's jaw ticked. After several long moments, he finally broke eye contact with her as he looked down at the floor and flatly stated, "Fine, then. I'm done."
Emma sighed. As she began massaging his muscles, she wondered if she would ever be able to make a connection with Killian Jones.
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The next session started the same way as all the others. Killian was working too hard, as if he wanted to cause himself more pain.
"You need to go easier on yourself," Emma chastised. "We've talked about this. Pain is there to tell you when you've done enough. You can't push past that threshhold or you're going to cause more injury to yourself."
"What does it matter anyway? I'm already a cripple," Killian said, with resignation in his voice.
Emma squatted down and looked him squarely in the face. "You are NOT a cripple," she whispered fiercely. "You CANNOT think of yourself that way."
Killian looked up to make eye contact with her, something he rarely ever did. Emma swallowed thickly. She had never seen anyone's eyes filled with so much sadness and anguish, and she'd been looking in a mirror all of her life. She'd be willing to bet that the pain evident in his eyes wasn't all caused by the injuries that he had suffered from the blast.
"It's the way other people see me."
Emma studied him. "Would I be wrong in thinking that it's not people who you think see you that way, but a particular person?"
She saw his eyes begin to fill with tears before he turned away from her, furiously blinking them away. "Are we finished for today?"
"Not quite. I'm your physical therapist, Killian. My job is to help you recover physically. But your physical health is influenced by your emotional well-being. If you're not emotionally healthy, your physical recovery is going to take much longer." She hesitated, then put her hand on his shoulder. He jerked involuntarily, but still didn't look at her. "I want you to know that you can talk to me Killian. I may not be trained to help people emotionally, but I can relate to your hurting heart."
He finally turned back to her. "How could you ever know how I feel?" he asked coldly. It was the first time that she'd heard any emotion in his voice.
Emma contemplated her next words. She didn't really want to tell him, but she knew that she'd already started down that path, and she didn't think she should go back now. Not if it could help her reach him. "Because that IED blast took something from me too. Just...not in the same way." She paused, ran a hand over her face, then blurted out, "I was dating Neal Cassidy."
Killian jerked his head up so quickly that Emma wondered if she'd have to start treating him for the effects of whiplash. "You're Neal's Emma?"
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Neal's Emma. The words hit her like a punch to the gut. Why would he call her that? What had Neal said about her? She tried to steady herself, then looked back up at Killian.
"N-Neal told you about me?" she stammered.
Killian cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable that he'd said what he did. "Aye. He talked about you often. Always respectfully, mind you. To hear him tell it, you were the reason why the sun came up in the morning, and the stars came out at night. He...he was quite taken with you."
Emma closed her eyes and turned to walk a few steps in the opposite direction, rubbing her hands up and down her arms as if she was trying to get warm.
'He was quite taken with you.'
If she was being honest with herself, she had felt the same way about him. As much as she tried to protect her heart from being hurt, she'd failed with Neal. She could honestly say that she hadn't fallen in love with him, but she couldn't deny that, given time, she most likely would have. She'd felt that door to her heart being cracked open every time that she and Neal had talked after his friend's therapy sessions, and then at their coffee meetings and on their dates. But it hadn't been a bad thing. It had felt good and she'd been happy.
Where had it gotten her, though? Right back where she started from, but with even more holes in her heart.
"Emma? Are you alright?"
She jumped. She'd been so lost in thought that she hadn't even heard Killian come up beside her.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. Or to, um, to hurt you in any way. I just didn't put two and two together to figure out that the beautiful therapist Neal was dating was actually you."
Emma glanced away from him so he wouldn't see her tears.
"He said that? He called me beautiful?"
"Beautiful, amazing, intelligent, witty, fun. He used many adjectives to describe you. But as I said, he was always respectful, and very much in awe of you."
Emma wiped at the tears trickling down her cheeks. Then she straightened her shoulders and stated, with just a slight quaver in her voice, "Ashley will do your massage and ice treatment. Keep doing your exercises at home. I'll see you on Wednesday." Then she quickly left the room.
Killian dropped his head. He should've just kept his mouth shut. She'd said that she could relate to his hurting heart, but he couldn't take her word for it. He had to act like he was the only one in the world who'd ever experienced heartbreak. And now he'd hurt her even more.
He realized that she'd known all along that he'd been injured at the same time that Neal was killed. Yet she hadn't said anything until now. She'd gone on treating him, even though she had that tragic connection with him.
He wondered if she'd ask someone else to take over his treatments, now that he'd basically forced her to tell him. He wouldn't blame her if she did. But suddenly, he realized that he really didn't want her to. At the beginning, he hated coming here because it all seemed so pointless. That had changed though, because of her. She urged him to work toward his recovery, and didn't show him any pity or sympathy. She treated him like a normal person, and he was actually starting to look forward to their sessions.
And now, he'd gone and screwed everything up.
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Emma knew that dismissing Killian and leaving the room the way she did wasn't professional, and hadn't been fair to him. But she also knew that if she'd stayed one more minute, she might've broken down in front of him, and that was something that she just wouldn't let herself do.
So she went into her office and tried to regain her composure. Pacing around, clenching and unclenching her fists, she tried not to think about everything that he'd told her. But try as she might, his words kept repeating over and over in her head. After several minutes, the calming breaths that she was attempting to take began to come out as sobs instead.
Finally giving into her heartbreak for the first time since Neal's death, Emma sat down at her desk, put her head on her arms, and wept for all that she had lost...again.
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Killian was surprised when Dr. Swan was waiting for him in the therapy room two days later. She greeted him with a smile and acted as though nothing had happened. He was relieved and worked up to, but not past, his limits, in order to meet her expectations. He supposed it was his way of apologizing to her.
However, he still had a secret that he was keeping from his therapist, and he knew that, until he told her, he wouldn't be able to give her his full concentration. He just couldn't bring himself to do it that day.
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His opportunity came at the end of their next session. Emma had told Ashley to go ahead and leave for lunch . The room was empty, as everyone else was already finished for the morning. She was placing the ice bags on Killian's wrist and thigh, and setting the timer, when she heard him speak very softly.
"I'm sorry about Neal."
Emma sighed. "Yeah, thanks. So am I."
"No. I mean, I'm really sorry. It should've been me."
"It shouldn't have been anyone, Killian." Emma looked into his eyes and saw the familiar anguish in them. This time, there seemed to be another emotion swirling around in the blue depths, but she couldn't quite place what it was.
"I was the point man on our patrol that day. A dust devil blew through and I got a load of sand in my eyes. I tried to wash it out, but my vision was still impaired. Neal volunteered to take point. He was always the first one to jump in and help like that. Anyway, a few minutes later….well, you know what happened."
All of this was said while his eyes were on the floor. When he finally dragged them up to meet Emma's again, she realized what the other emotion was that she had noticed in them before.
It was guilt.
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Emma swallowed down the lump in her throat. She wanted to turn and leave the room again, but she knew if she did, it would just add to his guilty feelings.
"Killian, I know it can't be easy for you to live with that. It's a terrible thing that happened, but it's not your fault. It was an accident."
"It was NOT an accident!" he said vehemently. It was the most emotion she'd ever seen from him. "Those devices are purposely placed to kill and maim, and to do the most destruction possible. The people who put it there did exactly what they wanted to do. They killed Neal, and they injured three more of us. My life is ruined because of them! That is no accident, Emma!"
His shoulders slumped. It was as if he'd spent all of his energy in that outburst of emotion.
Emma sat down beside him on the treatment table. They sat in silence for a couple of minutes before she spoke softly. "I'm sorry, Killian. You're right. That explosion was planned by some very evil people, which just proves it wasn't because of anything that you did, or didn't do. Neal's death is because of them. Your injuries are because of them. You're not to blame for any of it. Don't let it ruin your life."
Killian pushed himself off of the table. "It already did," he mumbled, and he walked out of the room.