"Hello?"

"Aug, what was it like when you broke your hand that one time?" Emma spit out in a rush of words, as soon as August answered his phone.

"I'm just fine, Sis. How nice of you to ask," he responded. Somehow, Emma could hear the smirk on his face.

"Shut up, you total idiot. I need some information for a patient that I'm treating."

"Ah, so that's all I am to you now? A source of information? You don't even care about your dear brother's life anymore?" he asked in his poutiest voice.

Emma heaved a sigh of exasperation. "Fine. How are you? Are you married yet? Any kids? Pets? Have you flown to the moon?" she asked sarcastically.

August burst out laughing. "That's the Emma that I know and love. So, to answer your questions that were so sweetly asked. Good. Not yet, but I'm working on it. None that I know of. Not unless you count an annoying cricket that resides somewhere in my house, and chirps incessantly at night. And yes I did, last week. Did our father not tell you about that?"

"Ugh! Speaking of annoying!" she retorted, but she couldn't keep the laughter out of her own voice. She loved the relationship that she had with her brother, even if his goal in life was to tease and irritate her.

"Now that we're all caught up, what exactly do you want to know?"

"When you broke your hand, what were the hardest things for you to do one-handed?"

"Well," August said thoughtfully, "I was only fourteen at the time so that was nearly thirteen years ago. You're asking a lot of me to remember back that far."

"All you did the whole six weeks that your hand was in a cast, was whine about not being able to use it! Now you can't remember anything about it?"

"Calm down, Sis. I didn't say I couldn't remember, just give me a minute. Why is this so important to you?"

"Because," Emma explained, "this patient of mine had to have his left hand amputated and, um, I'm just trying to find some ways to, uh, you know, to make things easier for him."

August considered for a minute. "So, he's just a patient then?"

"Of course. What else would he be?" Emma demanded.

"I don't know. You seem a little flustered when you're talking about him. I'm just wondering if you have another reason for wanting to help him."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

"August, don't even go there. He's my patient."

"Doesn't mean you can't be interested in him. He won't be your patient forever."

"Seriously? Have you forgotten that I just...that the guy I was dating...that it hasn't been that long since…"

August interrupted her rambling. "I haven't forgotten, Em," he said gently. "I know you're still hurting. Forget I said anything. It was stupid of me."

Both of them were quiet for several moments. Finally, August broke the silence. "Buttoning my shirt was really hard. I never realized buttons were so little. That's when I went through a t-shirts only phase. And tying my shoes, of course. Mom had to buy me loafers to wear. Um, let's see...pulling up my pants. I know that sounds a little weird, but think about it. You use both hands at the same time. Even taking a shower was tricky. I couldn't get my cast wet, so that made it even more of a challenge. There's so many things that we do with two hands without even thinking about it. After I got my cast off, I swore I'd never take having both hands for granted again."

Emma nodded, then realized that he couldn't see her through the phone. "Yeah, I see what you mean. So what helped you the most?"

"Just, um, I guess, trying to keep things simple. Like the pullover shirts and slip-on shoes. Learning to use other parts of my body along with my right hand, since it was my left hand that I broke. For instance, I'd hold a peanut butter jar under my left armpit and twist the lid with my right hand. Oh, and asking for help when I couldn't figure out a way to do it by myself. Does any of that help?"

"Yeah, it does. I don't think this guy will ask anyone for help, to be honest. He, um, he's very closed off. I'm just trying to find some way to make a connection. I'm worried about him."

"Well, if I know you, and I do, you're gonna keep trying until you figure out a way."

"So you're telling me that I'm persistent?"

"That's one way to put it. I think I'd use the word stubborn."

"Whatever you say, Augie Doggie."

August groaned. "How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that ridiculous nickname?"

"At least 327 more times," Emma chuckled. "But seriously, Aug, I really do appreciate the help. Now, Dad says that you've been dating someone?"

"Yeah, for a few weeks now. Her name is Claire. I met her when she came into the lumber yard to order new cabinets for her bathroom."

The siblings continued to catch up on each other's lives for another twenty minutes before they ended the call. After they hung up, Emma thought about how August had assumed that there might be more behind her inquiries than just being Killian's therapist, but she quickly pushed it from her mind. He was her patient, and that's all he could ever be.

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"So, how's it going with the Occupational Therapist?" Emma asked Killian, as she watched him do his exercises. She knew that he had started OT earlier that week.

"Fine."

"I hear you've been assigned to Ruby," Emma said, looking at him out of the corner of her eye to see his reaction. She and Ruby had worked together with other patients before. They found it beneficial to discuss the progress or lack of progress that their mutual patients made, so she knew Ruby's personality.

"Aye. She's….quite something. And here I thought you were the fiery one," he chuckled.

Emma was glad that he wasn't looking at her when he said it, because her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. Had Killian Jones just made a joke? And then almost actually laughed?

She recovered from her slight shock to say, "Oh really? I guess you'll appreciate me more now, won't you?" He looked up at her and smiled. Emma was surprised at how much his face was transformed by that simple action. She already knew that he was a handsome man, but the smile on his face made him look stunning.

She gave a little cough, then continued the conversation. "What kinds of things are you working on with her?"

"Basic things like getting dressed, cooking, and personal hygiene stuff. Most of the time, it's quite frustrating because I keep forgetting that I can't use two hands. She's also helping me figure out what kind of prosthesis would be best for me, and is getting me prepared for that."

Again, Emma was surprised. She hadn't expected him to give her such an extensive answer, since he usually offered as few words as possible. Maybe the last couple of sessions, when they had opened up to each other a little, had served as a turning point for them.

"I was talking to my brother the other day…"

"You have a brother? Older or younger?"

"Two-and-a-half months older."

Killian looked confused. "Excuse me?"

Emma laughed. She was used to this reaction from people when she told them how close in age she and August were. "I said, my brother is a little over two months older than me."

"Wow, okay, that's um...your poor mum!" he sputtered.

"I'm adopted," Emma explained with another laugh. "My parents adopted me when I was ten. August is their biological child, and we both just happened to be almost the exact same age."

"Oh, well that makes more sense then."

"Yeah." Emma put her hand on his arm to stop his movement. "That should do it. Let's start on your leg exercises now."

He adjusted himself to his next position on the table, while Emma grabbed ankle weights. "So what were you saying about talking to your brother? August, was it?"

"Uh-huh. August, born in August, although he was named after our great-grandfather and not the month. It just happened to work out that way. Anyway, he broke his hand when he was fourteen and had to have it in a cast for six weeks or so. I was asking him what he remembered were the hardest things for him to do. I know it's not the same as your situation, but I thought it might help me to know."

Killian looked up at the therapist, who was busy adjusting the velcro on the weights around his ankle. He was surprised, but touched, that she would go to the trouble of trying to find more ways to help him. He had assumed that after each session was over, she didn't give him a second thought until the next appointment.

"So what did he say?"

"Similar to what you're working on with Ruby. Buttoning shirts, tying shoes, putting on clothes, opening jars, things like that. He said that after he got his cast off, he didn't take having two hands for granted anymore." Her cheeks filled with color. "Oh Killian! I'm so sorry! That was a completely insensitive thing for me to say!"

"That's okay, Swan. He's right. There are so many things that I used to do with two hands, and never gave it a second thought. Now I'm having to find all new ways to do them."

Emma noticed how he had called her by her last name only, but she didn't say anything. She actually liked the way it sounded with his accent.

"So, what kind of prosthetic hand are you considering?"

Killian finished his first set of leg stretches and started on the next set. "I didn't even realize that there were so many different kinds. I've been doing research on all of them, along with what the prosthetist and Ruby have shown me. I'm leaning toward the hook-like attachment. I know it won't look as natural, but it has all I would need to function, since it acts like a finger and a thumb."

Emma hummed her agreement. "That makes sense. Did they say if it would be easier to use?"

"I guess I'll find out. I'm supposed to get fitted for it tomorrow and then it should be ready in two or three weeks."

"That would be just about the time that our sessions will be wrapping up then."

Killian halted his exercise abruptly. "What? You mean I won't be coming here any more?"

Emma's eyebrows raised. "No, Killian. My job is to help you regain your strength and mobility. You've shown me that you're making good progress. I'll be doing an evaluation in a couple of weeks, but I don't expect to be working with you much longer."

He resumed his exercises, but didn't say anything more. After he finished, Emma gave him the usual muscle massage and ice treatment, while he remained mostly silent. Then he nodded his goodbye and left.

Emma wondered why he'd cut off the conversation. She had been enjoying talking to him, and hearing him reply with more than one or two word answers. Her mind went back over the last thing that she'd said to him. She thought he would be happy to hear that he wouldn't be coming in for treatments anymore. Could he possibly be upset about that news?

Then she realized something. She wasn't looking forward to the end of their sessions. Somewhere along the way, she had come to enjoy seeing Killian Jones on a regular basis.

xxxxxxxxx

Killian sat in his private room back at the barracks, trying to fill out forms to initiate his medical discharge. After reading the same line in the instructions four times, he finally pushed the laptop away from him. Then he scrubbed his hand over his face, rubbing at the scruff that he'd allowed to grow, since the wounds on his face made it difficult to shave.

Why did the thought of no longer going to physical therapy upset him? He could tell that he was improving with every treatment, almost walking normally and regaining strength in his arm. He could continue doing the exercises himself in the privacy of his room, and wouldn't have to go out in public as often. That would mean seeing fewer people who made him feel self-conscious about his injuries.

But it would also mean not seeing Emma Swan, and he didn't want to think about why that fact bothered him.

xxxxxxxxx

Emma and Ruby sat at a table outside the small diner where they had met for lunch. They wanted to take advantage of the warm, sunny weather after a few days of rain and chilly temperatures. Besides occasionally working with the same patients, the two had become friends, and regularly got together for lunch breaks.

After sharing some small talk and personal news, their conversation turned to their current shared patient.

"You've done a good job with Killian Jones," Ruby observed. "For as bad as his injuries were, he's recovered most of his muscle tone, and I think he'll do well with the prosthesis when he gets it."

"Yeah, we were just discussing that yesterday during his treatment."

"Discussing? As in, actually talking to each other? How did you get Mr. Stoic to speak to you?" Ruby asked, with comically wide eyes.

Emma sighed. "It's taken a while, believe me. It's just been in the last two or three sessions that we've really had any kind of conversation. I felt like he was finally starting to open up, but yesterday, as soon as I told him that he wouldn't have to come to PT much longer, he clammed up and hardly said anything the rest of the time he was there. I just can't seem to figure him out."

"Maybe he's just shy. Or self-conscious. Or both."

"Maybe. But I have a feeling it might be more than that. He just seems so….sad. I mean, obviously he's been through a terrible ordeal, but somehow I think his emotional wounds are worse than his physical ones. I just wish I could help him."

Ruby studied her friend, then spoke carefully. "I think you're probably right, but the psychotherapist that he's seeing should be helping him with that….unless there's something else you need to tell me? Emma, are you maybe, I don't know, developing feelings for this guy?"

"You sound like my brother!" Emma exclaimed. "You do know that the guy I was dating was just killed a couple of months ago, don't you?"

Ruby reached across the table to take one of her friend's hands. "Look, I'm not trying to make light of your loss, or to be insensitive to your feelings. But Neal's been gone for longer than you even dated him. I know you really cared for him, but it is okay if you start liking someone else."

Letting go of Emma's hand, Ruby held her own up in front of her face, studying her red fingernail polish as she said, "It just seems like you're showing a lot of concern for a guy who's only your patient."

"I'm always concerned about my patients. This one isn't any different," Emma replied.

But somehow, she knew that what she was saying wasn't quite true. And if she was completely honest with herself, she would admit that it scared her how often she thought about Killian Jones.

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