Chapter 17 left Emma confused and scared and not sure who she was while Killian fell into a coma. If I did my job right, this chapter will pull a tear or two from you... Grab a tissue and let's go.
Chapter 18
Seattle Grace Hospital
Seattle, WA
Wednesday Morning
Confused. Helpless. Alone. All emotions threatening to overwhelm her until...she closed her eyes. In there, inside her mind, they waited for her. Eyes, windows to a soul that reached out and grabbed hold of her and made her feel...safe. Gave her strength to carry on, telling her they were unique. Eyes made for her, only her.
Those eyes, looking at her with love and calling to her, not with words spilling from lips but communicating in the way of lovers. Who are you? she wanted to scream. Where are you and why are you important to me? Will any blue eyes give me the same comfort? Will any blue eyes do?
Her gaze was drawn to her doctor, whose eyes were blue. But his blue eyes were encircled by blond lashes and not dark, and while fear was not the emotion they created, neither was safety. Only a pair of indigo eyes surrounded by thick inky lashes would do. Those eyes called to her. Those eyes protected her. Those eyes loved her. They waited for her. They needed her and she...needed them.
She watched the doctor out of the corner of her eye, wondering who he was talking to and what he was saying. Periodically, he or the nurse, Belle, would glance her direction, almost furtively, as if they didn't want her to worry. She wanted to tell them that it was ridiculous for them think she wouldn't worry, but really, was it truly ridiculous? Was she a worrier? Yet one more thing for her to question.
She looked down at the whiteboard sitting on her lap and read the sentence she had written. "Who is Emma?" As soon as the doctor had read that, his blue eyes had widened in concern before moving straight into professional mode. He had left her alone, but didn't go far. Was that something she feared? Who would know? The eyes? If so, where were they?
She watched as he slowly hung up the phone and walked her way. "Emma," he said softly, "I've contacted Doctor Derek Shepherd. He's a neurologist and is going to help us find out what's going on. Once his testing is done, I'm going to have you see Doctor Blanchard, our Psychologist. We will get some answers." He squeezed her arm gently, handed her chart to Belle, and left the room.
Once he was gone, Belle made sure she was comfortable with her whiteboard next to her, and tucked an extra blanket around her as transport arrived to wheel her away for testing. As the gurney was pushed down the hall, they passed several groups of people and moved in and out of different corridors. There were snippets of conversations that she heard and they all made sense. She heard someone say "They were eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich," then she heard, "I went to see a movie last night," and "The weather has been exceptionally warm here in Seattle." While she understood the meaning of all the sentences, she couldn't apply feelings to all of them.
The first was simple, as she somehow knew what peanut butter was and, if asked, would say she preferred strawberry jelly. The second, she knew what a movie was but couldn't come up with any titles that she may have seen. And the last - she was in Seattle. Was she from here? For some reason, she didn't think so, as there were no emotions associated with it. Was that good? Was that bad?
She was pushed into a room and if she listened carefully, she could hear music. It was peaceful music, playing softly, keeping someone company, reminding them that someone was thinking of them too. As she was transferred from one table to another, the music was turned up a little louder and, ignoring the people as they fussed around her, she focused on the music. Hoping something, anything, would sound familiar. "Lay still, Emma," a disembodied voice told her. "You will hear some loud sounds, but please don't move."
She closed her eyes as the clanking started, looking for the eyes because she was in a tube and it was coming closer and she couldn't breathe. "Stay calm, Emma." she heard, but it felt as if they were talking to someone else because Emma...meant nothing. Who was Emma?
"Just a few more minutes," the voice finally announced, and she felt like she could breathe again. As she was pulled out of the tube, there was the music, waiting for her, and as a haunting voice came on singing words on love, she felt tears well up and spill over. Closing her eyes...she waited, and just like every other time there they were...waiting for her too. Don't cry they seemed to say. It will be alright.
When the testing was all done and they had moved her back onto the gurney she had arrived on, she looked up into the friendly face of an older woman, and picked up her board, writing, "What song? Beautiful."
"Oh, yes, that's a lovely song," the woman told her, in a soft melodic voice. "That was Nat King Cole singing Unforgettable."
She repeated it to herself several times as they pushed her out of the room. Unforgettable, she thought, as the melody played over and over inside of her head and the eyes seemed to be relaying a message: Remember. Please, remember.
Liam's Place
New York City, NY
Wednesday Morning
Liam's head pounded and, rubbing his forehead, he groaned, not wanting to get out of bed. It felt like a hangover, and not one from whisky but rather one from feeling like he had been constantly pummeled by something or someone. His body ached from sleeping on an uncomfortable sofa, in an uncomfortable position, and the need to stretch his legs made him want to move. He pushed up into a sitting position and heard the crinkle of plastic and pulled the bag holding Emma's belongings out from under him; the diamond ring, along with a wallet, keys and her cell phone. What could they tell him?
He stared at the bag for what seemed like an eternity but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make himself reach inside and touch any of the contents. He had discovered a few truths about himself and the question, 'was I wrong?' kept circling around and around inside his head. His fear was that he had been wrong and if that were true, then living with what he had done was not something he was ready to examine with words or feelings. The contents waivered in front of his eyes and his gaze locked on the ring and what giving that to her must have meant to his brother. Had he ever listened to how Killian sounded when he spoke of her? Had he ever listened to the things that Killian said about her? The answer wasn't easy for him to admit to himself, but the truth was no. He had been bitter and no one's feelings mattered but his own.
Not quite having the courage to delve into her life just yet, he decided he needed caffeine. Leaving the bag behind, he wandered into the kitchen, poured a cup of coffee and moved to the window to stare out at the city spread before him. He was man enough to admit that his experiences with Lily had changed him. They had taken a man who had believed in love and happily ever after, and turned him into one who looked at love as something that just brought pain. He had discovered that loving someone made you vulnerable, and learned the hard way that no one should have that much control over you. He had taken a lesson from his wife and was treating life as a garden, with him the butterfly who periodically landed to sip the nectar but never stayed long. His brother believed he had met a woman worthy of his love. Was Emma that woman?
Nemo had said, "Are you saying people who grow up as orphans don't know how to love, son?"
reminding him that he and his father had grown up as orphans, yet both had become successful men who were honorable and loved unconditionally. That made them different from Lily, but which pattern did Emma follow? His file on her revealed very little as to whom Emma was as a person. He had only been given basics, such as the name of the group home where she had grown up, the kind of student she had been and that there had been some trouble when she was a teenager that had eventually been cleared up. What kind of trouble, he wondered, and what had clearing it up involved?
His investigator also found out she was a good art student, graduating from college with her degree before moving on to Harvard on a complete assistantship. There hadn't been any information on when she had started drawing or why she enjoyed it, or what her plans were for the future.
Why hadn't he bothered to show up in Boston to meet her? He had essentially hounded Killian for years to give up his vagabond ways and move closer, so they could be a family. Yet what had he done? Shut him out, refusing to consider that his brother had met a woman worthy of him. Had he become so bitter that he was unable to form his own opinions of women in a fair manner? Did he immediately make them the enemy with the standards to receive his approval too high for them to even try?
He set his empty cup on the table and picked up the bag to look inside. Unsure about his decision but too far gone too back out, he stuck his hand inside and pulled out her keys. There were three, all different colors attached to a ring. The key ring was a beautifully crafted gold piece resembling a swan, its neck long and graceful, its feathers folded around it neatly. It felt heavy in his hand but was shiny, as if she hadn't had it that long. Knowing it had to be from his brother before he even turned it over, he flipped it to see an inscription that read:
You will forever be my always.
Love, Killian
12/25/16
Liam remembered his conversation last December and how he had tried to get Killian to leave Boston to go skiing. Even then he had chosen her, and Nemo had already been involved with Cora. He had been blind…so very blind.
Next, he stuck his hand inside the bag, intending to take out the phone, but at the last minute he didn't feel ready and picked up her wallet instead. Simple brown leather that closed with a snap, very thin and lightweight. So thin and lightweight that he didn't expect to find much inside and wasn't disappointed with his assumption. Inside he found some cash, her Massachusetts driver's license, a credit card and a folded piece of paper with an address in New York City, he assumed for the apartment that Killian had recently purchased. When he placed it on the table next to the keys, he asked himself what he had learned about her so far. She didn't appear to care about things, for she had been carrying very little, and that the glitz included had been from his brother.
The ring and the phone were the only items left, and knowing the ring wouldn't give him any answers, he slowly pulled out the phone. It wasn't the newest version, nor was it the largest one, but holding it in his hand gave him a feeling that he wasn't ready to name. His thumb hovered over the home button. One push, he thought and some of her secrets would be revealed. Was he ready? As he sat contemplating his answer, his own cell rang saving him from having to make a decision too quickly. He shoved it back in the bag and answered, "Hello."
"Liam, what's the word about Killian?" Nemo asked on the other end.
Liam told him what he had learned from Doctor Hopper the day before about Killian lapsing into a coma.
"I'm just getting ready to jump in the shower and go back. I'll let you know if anything changes," he answered hurriedly with the hope that nothing was said about Emma, as he wasn't ready to talk to anyone about her...except perhaps with Killian.
"Good, good," Nemo continued surprisingly, "I also wanted to tell you about Robin."
Liam frowned, "Robin? What about him?"
"Robin was with Emma and Killian. You didn't know that?"
Liam thought about what had happened that first night when he showed up at the hospital but was positive that Killian's thoughts that night had been only of Emma.
As Nemo went on to tell him about Robin's injuries, which hospital he was in and that his girlfriend was with him, that invisible noose that he had been feeling started to tighten around his neck. The possibility that his actions had somehow been the motivator for this hurried wedding and the subsequent accident kept sitting in the back of his mind and he couldn't get it out. He was very relieved to learn that, although serious, Robin's injuries were not life threatening and that he had someone with him for support.
As their call was coming to an end, he assured Nemo that he would let Killian know about Robin and that he would speak to him soon. He had just taken a deep breath, thinking that he could relax a little when he heard,
"Oh, and Liam?"
There was something in Nemo's voice when he interjected that told him, he was going to learn something he might not expect. "Something else?" He tried to keep the irritation in his voice to a minimum.
"Cora and I are getting married."
He sounded happy, but married was something that he never would have expected for Dakkar Nemo. "I'm, uh, surprised, but if you're happy, then so am I," he finally came up with, wondering why all of a sudden it seemed that everyone around him came in pairs. Promising to text later, he clicked off and went to shower and change before leaving for the hospital once again.
Hospital for Special Surgery
New York NY
Thursday Late Morning
As the week progressed, Robin continued to get stronger, and as the pain and swelling in his collarbone healed, he was able to remove the sling. With the removal of the sling came more mobility and twice daily visits by his own torture master, Will Scarlett, Physical Therapist.
The next questions were, what came next and, when it was time to leave the hospital, where did he go? Back to Boston where they had another few months on their lease, or stay in New York City where he would be working, as soon as he was able? But staying in New York City when he hadn't had time to find a place to live presented a problem also, as his father lived in a nice brownstone, but climbing those steps to the front door would be impossible.
When the door to his room opened, he looked up expecting to see Will arriving with his weights, bands and other assorted pieces of equipment meant to torture, but he was pleasantly surprised to see it was Regina. She was dressed in yellow and, immediately, he felt as if she were filling his room with sunshine. Holding his hand out toward her, he beckoned her inside. "Well, hello. I didn't expect you quite so early."
She gave him that shy smile of hers that he loved so well, and pushed the door closed. "I was hoping I would get here in time for your therapy session. Did I miss it?"
He gave her a quizzical look. "Not that I'm complaining, but why?" Her steps brought her closer to where he was stuck in the miserable bed, but with the sling gone, he was able to reach for her hand, pull her close and wrap his arms around her, bringing her down for a more thorough good morning kiss than they had exchanged recently.
She lifted her head and ran her hand along his newly freed arm. "You lost your sling." She smiled down at him.
"I did." He leaned close for another kiss. "I needed that." He gave her a gentle smile before continuing with his earlier question, "Now, why do you want to be here when the therapist comes in. He tortures me and if I cry like a baby, you might not think it too manly." His dimples popped as the air between them sizzled.
"That's okay," she pushed upright and shrugged one shoulder, "if you cry, I'll hand you a tissue." She grinned at him as she busied herself straightening his blankets.
When she lifted her head and there was a twinkle in her dark eyes, he couldn't resist tugging her closer once again. He hadn't had her in his arms since before the accident and he hadn't realized how much he needed her until she was there. "Have I told you how happy I am that you came running when I needed you?" He said huskily while his hand leisurely moved up and down her back, as if he couldn't stop touching her.
Her hands hit the bed, bracketing his body as she leaned closer. "Yes, you did, but it's nice to hear again."
Her soft breath wafted across his lips, sending a sensuous awareness over his skin that was present whenever she was near. "Well, then," he licked his lips drawing her gaze to his mouth, "have I told you that I love you?" Her eyes immediately filled with tears and while she never withdrew the eye contact that held him trapped in her web, neither did she say anything causing him to worry that perhaps he had misread her. "Regina, did I say something wrong?"
Her tears falling freely, she shook her head from side to side. "No, Robin. I just never thought I would have this." She cupped his jaw, running her thumb along his bottom lip. "I love you too," she sighed against his mouth.
He didn't give her any longer to think, but cupped the back of her head, bringing their lips together. The kiss continued until he felt his body waking after lying dormant for days from pain and medication, giving him thoughts best not to have in a hospital bed with two broken legs. Just a little more, he decided, as he dove back in for seconds.
"'Ere, 'ere," Robin heard the cockney accent of his physical therapist as he burst into the room, interrupting the moment. "Time to work."
"Stay?" Robin asked Regina as she pushed to standing.
"Always." She released his hand and moved aside to watch Will work.
Robin was led through multiple exercises, with both weights and therapeutic bands, all working to increase his upper body strength which would allow him to transfer himself from a bed to a wheelchair. With a collarbone that was still tender and after laying around most of the week, he felt weak, and by the time they were finished, he was sweating and exhausted.
Will nodded his head. "You're ready. I'll tell the Doc." He picked up his equipment and just as quickly as he arrived, he departed.
Regina had been standing beside the window but as soon as Will left, she disappeared, returning moments later, a towel and a cloth in her hand. Robin reached out for the cloth but she waved his hand away. "Let me." She lowered the side rail of his bed and hitched her hip up beside him and his heart rate sped up waiting for her next move.
She ran the wet cloth across his heated forehead, his cheeks and then his neck. "What are you ready for, Robin?"
It took him a few seconds to process what she had asked, but finally he was able to respond, "To be moved to the rehabilitation unit."
"That's wonderful. And then home?"
"Yes," he began hesitantly, "I'm just not sure where that is yet. I guess I could go back to Boston, but since we'll be based from here, I had hoped to already have a place."
"Would you move in with me?" She asked him almost hesitantly.
Robin's eyes went straight to hers. "Regina, are you sure?"
"More than anything," she hurried to answer in a hushed voice.
He tilted his head and studied her expression. "I could sleep on the sofa, so I don't keep you awake.
"You could," she agreed, "but that would make it more difficult to do this." She kissed one cheek before moving to the other and then settling on his mouth.
Robin allowed the kiss to go on, probably longer than he should have, but he couldn't seem to pull away. He had waited so long to find a woman like her, and now that he had, he just wanted to be with her in every way possible. However, his body's response to the kissing was reminding him that not only did he want to share his life with her, he wanted to make love with her, and having casts on both legs was going to limit his movement for a while. As the kiss continued, threatening to get out of hand, he cupped Regina's head, separating their lips and took a few moments to appreciate how sexy she looked with her kiss swollen mouth and sultry eyes. "You realize if we are to share a bed, there are some things that I may have difficulty with for the next few months." He gave her what felt like a self-deprecating smile.
His body jerked as her hands wandered down to his nether regions. "Feels like everything works fine to me," she responded sassily.
He groaned, "That works quite well, thank you very much. But, I can't move these," he waved his hands toward his legs, both encased in plaster casts.
Regina looked toward where he was pointing. "Well," she murmured, "perhaps I could do the moving for both of us."
His thoughts went straight to the gutter. "I do like how you think," he murmured before seeing how far he could push his control by sampling a few more kisses.
University Hospital,
Newark, NJ
Thursday Afternoon
Unsure how long he had been in this void, Killian floated, his mind detached from reality. He felt safe and, as it had been the last place where he'd had contact with his girl, the hope was that she would return looking for him. If she did, he wanted to be waiting for her, as by her side was where he was meant to be.
He found that the longer he remained submerged, the better he became at moving around at will. He knew when medical personnel happened to be in the room and working with his body, and if the pain became too great, how to get away from it. He also became aware of the times Liam was in the room or when Nemo had stopped by to check on him.
He was aware that Liam had been close quite often, but had chosen not to get close enough to be able to understand his words, nor was he interested in trying to place Liam's moods. After hearing Liam's mumblings upon returning from the errand he had sent him on, he had been hesitant to listen too closely for fear of hearing more bad news, although he couldn't fathom anything worse. His path of escape allowed him to pretend that life was still wonderful and that it would somehow return to normal. The thought that she was gone from his life forever was not an option he was strong enough nor willing to consider. Perhaps someday, perhaps never.
~~~CS~~~~
Liam pushed open the door to Killian's room, hoping to find him with eyes open and sitting in a chair smiling. Instead, it was the same scene. Killian in bed, eyes closed. "Bloody hell, Killian," he shouted in frustration, before his voice softened to an agonized whisper. "Stop being an arsehole and open your eyes." The fear, worry, and utter helplessness he was feeling simultaneously bombarded his very existence, until the need to kick something or hit something almost took control. A calming breath, though, gave him his answer. He needed to turn back time. Turn back time to a place where life was simpler and his only goal had been to protect his little brother. Many times, at an enormous cost to himself. But Killian's well-being led the way.
He pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down, trying to decide which story would fit with the mood of the day. Since Doctor Hopper had suggested talking to Killian as if they were sitting side by side, he had gone through his memories, pulling story after story out of times when they were growing up. As he clicked through the files in his mind, he had rediscovered feelings inside himself that he had thought were long lost; feelings that helped him understand just what a wanker he had truly been to his brother since the whole debacle with Lily had gone down.
"Killian, did I ever tell you about the time I almost lost you?" he started by asking the silent body on the bed. He didn't expect an answer and continued on with his story, "I must have been eleven or twelve, and with Papa away on business, I was tasked with watching my little brother while Mum ran a quick errand."
Liam stopped to gather his thoughts before continuing with the story, "She told me not to leave the house. She told me not to answer the door. But then I heard the secret knock that signaled my best mate John had arrived and I couldn't resist. Even after being told not to, I answered his knock." He hesitated as if listening to a question.
"I know," he answered the question he had only heard in his head, "but I was at that age where it was important to be brill, and so I answered, and he issued a challenge. We were going to race across the train tracks as the train was coming around the corner."
Once more he stopped and cocked his head, waiting for a question. "You don't have to tell me twice," he said to his listener, "I shouldn't have. But I did."
Unable to sit still, Liam pushed up and paced back and forth in front of the bed, as he was wont to do when he had a lot on his mind. "You were watching something on the telly, and after telling you I would be right back, John and I left the house, heading toward the train tracks. Little did I know that my four-year-old brother had followed us out the door. Oh Killian," he sighed, "that was the start of your never listening to me."
As he sat there, he could clearly hear his brother say, "I was born to be a captain."
"Yes, you were, Killian. Yes, you were." Taking a deep breath, he went on with his tale. "John and I arrived at the tracks and we could hear the train's whistle in the distance. Knowing there would be two trains, one going in either direction, we quickly scampered across the tracks as the train was approaching. While we stood there on the opposite side of the tracks, watching it fly by, I saw you standing on the other side waiting to run after us. But before the last car had passed, you disappeared… And, yes…I panicked."
Liam had to stop and wipe his face. Every time, he remembered the story, he relived it all over again. He could smell the dust that was tossed into the air as the train flew past. He could hear the screech of the metal wheels against the metal tracks, and the sick pit in his stomach always returned full force.
He took a drink from the bottle of water he had brought in, and with his emotions under control continued with the memory. "As soon as the train's last car flew past, John and I raced back across the tracks, but Killian…" he hesitated to swallow the bile that always rose to the back of his throat when he thought about his little brother sprinting across the dusty tracks, "you had hidden behind something and crossed over the tracks, so you were standing on the opposite side from where John and I were standing, but too far away to hear our cries. Any chance you remember why you couldn't hear us?"
He didn't know why he tossed that question out to Killian. They had never talked about that day and Liam had always assumed it was because Killian had been so young and had forgotten it. "The reason you couldn't hear our cries, little brother, was the train coming in the opposite direction had sounded its whistle and could be seen."
Liam closed his eyes and was immediately pulled back to that day. He could clearly see himself and John yelling at Killian to stay where he was and wait, but with all the patience of any four-year-old, Killian didn't listen, or just didn't hear them. Liam had started running but he hadn't been able to get very far, because the train had arrived. For what seemed like forever, Liam had stood there as car after car flew past, not knowing what had happened to Killian. Not knowing if his brother was dead or alive.
"Once the train had passed," he went on with his story, "John and I took off running toward you as fast as we were able. And, Killian," Liam's voice settled to a whisper, "when we found you, you were so still, I thought I had lost you without really getting a chance to know you." He blinked his eyes rapidly trying to clear his vision and dug a little deeper for the strength he would need for the next part.
"You were lying on your stomach, covered with debris blown up by the train, arms splayed out on either side. Finally, after we had called your name multiple times, you stirred and started crying. That sound served as a balm to my soul because it meant you were alive. I'm not ashamed to admit, I pretty much lost it right then and there." Liam let his words die and remembered kneeling there in the sand while they leaned over him. He and John had examined Killian, trying to see where he were hurt, but all they could find was a small burn, where the train's wheels had tossed something metal in the air, and it had bounced off his arm.
Liam stood and, picking up Killian's right hand, slowly turned it over until he could see the inside of his wrist. Tenderly he ran his finger over the red mark left behind that fateful day beside the train. "After that I swore I would do whatever I had to do to protect you. Looks like I failed, didn't I? Come back to me, little brother. I love you."
~~~CS~~~
Inside his safe place, Killian heard a sound that could only be described as an agonizing wail, sounding more like it was coming from a wounded animal rather than a person. He knew he had heard it once before, but the where and the when, he couldn't quite grasp. The cry continued for so long, with its tone nearly piercing his soul, that he slowly floated up to see if there was anything he could do to help. Not quite ready to completely surface, he went up just enough for his hand and arm to float along the top, while the rest of his body remained safely cocooned, free from pain. As he hovered in the space between, he became aware that the arm that was above the surface was getting wet, but not all at once. It felt as if he were standing under a cloud and it was sprinkling lightly with raindrops falling…one by one.
"What is that?" he asked himself. "If I go back, what then? Am I ready?" Not having the answers readily at hand, Killian stayed in his limbo and listened.
~~~CS~~~
Liam heard the door open and, letting go of Killian's arm, wiped his tears before turning to face the newcomer. "Doctor Hopper." he was pleased to see it was someone who might give some helpful information.
The doctor smiled, coming forward to shake his hand. "Mr. Jones. How's your brother?" he asked before pulling on his gloves and turning to the patient.
"I've been telling him stories just like you suggested, but I don't think it's done any good. He appears to be the same," he sighed, "It's very frustrating."
"I'm sure it is. Now let's see if there's any change in his responses. "
Seattle Grace Hospital
Seattle, WA
Doctor David Nolan's Offices
Thursday Afternoon
David read the report that Derek Shepherd had just sent him about his new patient. Then he read it again,
Findings and Recommendations
MRI - no abnormalities noted
CT Scan - no abnormalities noted
EEG - no abnormalities noted
Refer to Speech Pathology and Psychology for further testing
The report from the neurologist hadn't given him any new insight and so he moved onto the report written by the speech/language pathologist. Since Emma was unable to speak, and with her dominant arm broken, testing had been limited.
Results of Testing
Nonverbal communication skills show higher than average vocabulary and language comprehension. Reads and understands on a college level. Written language skills hampered by broken dominant hand, however spelling and grammar skills consistent with a college education.
Recommendations - Refer to psychologist for further testing.
After reading both reports, David was no closer to discovering why the girl had lost her memory than he had been earlier in the day. Reaching for his phone, he called the one person who might be able to help him solve his problem.
After several rings he heard his brother answer, "David. How is our patient?"
Getting right to the point, he answered, "That's why I'm calling. When she woke up after surgery, she woke up with amnesia. Is there any more you can tell me?"
James told him she had been in the car with her fiancé and it had been her fiancé's brother who had provided financial support for her treatment. "I actually saw him yesterday and returned her belongings to him. If I see him, I'll see if I can find out more about her for you."
"That's a good idea. Meanwhile, I'm going to ask my lovely wife to consult."
With a "keep me posted," James clicked off and David was once again left with his thoughts about what could have caused the lovely Ms. Swan to suppress memories of her life.
"Well, Emma Swan," he murmured to the quiet room, "if anyone can help you get those memories to return, it's Mary Margaret Blanchard." He picked up the phone and dialed her extension.
Emma's room, Thursday Afternoon
She thought she had been in this hospital for three days but time moved so slowly, she couldn't be sure. Since hearing that song, Unforgettable, she hadn't been able to get it out of her mind. Its melody felt familiar, yet she had no idea why. But consistently when the song played in her head, the eyes appeared, as if waiting for her to say or do something important. What though? She just didn't know.
Some of the testing they had done with her yesterday had involved pointing to items or scenes that matched what the person had said. The fact that she had known what the person was talking about had to mean something, right? And that she had been able to read and answer questions as well as do a little writing, were all positive signs, they told her. But she couldn't remember the names of any friends or family members. She didn't even know if she had any. But if she did, where were they?
She had discovered she enjoyed just about any type of music, knew something about art, as she somehow recognized styles as well as the artists of the pictures she saw as they moved her around from place to place, and she had discovered she hated the smell of peas. On the plus side, the protein drinks that were her meals didn't taste too bad, and while they rotated the flavors, she preferred chocolate. But even with that, she kept wishing they would bring her a grilled cheese and onion rings, and trying to figure out why those foods had popped into her head just added to the list of things that she didn't know.
Feeling a headache starting to form, she closed her eyes and leaned back against the pillow. She had learned if she tried too hard to remember her past, the pain in her head returned in almost crippling form. Not wanting to dwell too long on why that happened, she searched for the eyes and let them soothe her to sleep.
Mary Margaret Blanchard's Offices
Thursday Afternoon
Mary Margaret hung up the phone and turned to her computer to pull up the electronic reports on Emma Swan. With no neurological issues present and her semantic memory active, she suspected that something traumatic had occurred and was causing Emma to block her past. Possibly, the trauma from the accident triggered a previous fear that caused her to shut down, but she was certain that with patience she could help Emma unlock what her mind was refusing to acknowledge. Only then would she be able to completely heal.
Having looked over the report by the speech/language pathologist and knowing verbal responses were limited, she opted for an informal and nonthreatening approach. She grabbed a sketch pad, a small box of colored pencils, and just in case Emma preferred the whiteboard, a new box of whiteboard markers, and left her office. She planned to start with a little word to picture association and see where it went.
When she walked into Emma's room, she hadn't known what to expect, but what she saw made her wish that a simple hug could take this girl's pain away. She was lying on her left side, almost in a fetal position, her broken right arm resting on a pillow. Asleep, the bruises and small cuts from her facial injuries stood out in bright and colorful contrast against the white bed linens. From red to purple, green and yellow, each color a painful reminder that whatever had transpired within the last few days had been painful enough for her brain to need a time out.
Mary Margaret had been a psychologist for many years, and as one who worked closely with many head injury and amnesic cases, was used to feelings of empathy. Without ever making eye contact, though, something about this case was pulling her in and connecting her with this stranger. As she continued to stare, Emma opened her eyes, and the minute their gazes locked, Mary Margaret knew she would do whatever she could to make sure Emma Swan was one day reunited with the man who loved her. That was her promise to her patient.
~~~CS~~~
As Emma stared into the small, dark headed woman's eyes, she felt a peace that she hadn't felt since waking up, and knew that whomever she was, her plan was to help.
"Hello Emma," the woman smiled softly as she moved closer to the bed. She introduced herself and asked if they could talk a while.
Emma tilted her head, and reaching over took her whiteboard and marker and wrote, "Can't talk."
"Oh, I'm fully aware of your limitations. I brought a sketch pad. Would you like to use it or the whiteboard?"
Emma looked at the sketch pad she was holding and for a split-second thought there was something familiar about it. The feeling refused to stay long enough for her to make sense of it, however, if seeing it created a feeling, perhaps holding it would too. Pointing to the sketch pad, she held her breath as it was placed into her hand, both nervous and excited about the feelings it might elicit.
As she held it in her hand, looking down at the cover, she couldn't say that it brought back memories so much as it brought back feelings. Laying it on her lap, she ran her hand over the cover, and the feel of it was so comfortable that her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. Flipping open to the first page, she ran her hand over the it before she picked it up and sniffed it. The distinct smell coming from the paper filled her with such an overwhelming urge to draw, her eyes immediately filled with tears. The problem, though, was in what could she draw?
A soft voice interrupted her thoughts. "Did you remember something, Emma?"
"No," she shook her head to the question.
"But you felt something?" the doctor continued to prod.
Emma looked up from the sketch pad knowing that the look on her face said, "Call me surprised."
Dr. Blanchard smiled. "You're not the first person I've helped regain their memory. Are you ready?"
She was told that she would be given a word and all that would be required for her was to either write the first word that came to mind or to draw a picture. She emptied the box of colored pencils next to her legs and waited for her first word.
~~~CS~~~
Mary Margaret watched Emma to see how she would handle the sketch pad and pencils. It quickly became obvious that even though she was obviously using her nondominant hand, she was familiar with them. Once she knew her patient was comfortable with her current means of communication, she began giving words, starting with simple ones that wouldn't feel too threatening or even reveal too much about the person behind the amnesic. After several words into the process, she decided to see what she could find out about Emma. "Hungry. When I say hungry, what comes to mind?"
She watched Emma immediately drop the black pencil she had been using and pick up a tan and an orange one and painstakingly start drawing. Emma was focused, and several times she would frown before moving on. Finally, laying down the pencils, the pad was turned around. Emma had drawn a perfect replica of a golden brown grilled cheese sandwich surrounded by crispy onion rings.
"Nicely done. Do you remember what they taste like?"
Emma stared down at her picture for a few minutes before looking back up and slowly nodding her head.
"Good job. Ready to move on?" Once Emma had turned the page, the next word was given, "Boston."
Emma wrote, "Home."
"Friend."
The corner of Emma's lips curved up, before she drew a picture of a girl wearing a red cape and wrote, "Red."
"How about 'mother?'"
Emma's answer surprised her as she had written, "Snow White."
When Mary Margaret saw the answer, she thought for a moment that Emma was joking, but her expression told another story, one that would be best left untouched until another time. "How about 'safe,' Emma."
Emma was observed to briefly close her eyes before opening them to draw quickly on her pad. When she turned the pad around, she had drawn a pair of blue eyes, rimmed by dark lashes, that were quite realistic looking.
"Do you see those eyes when you close yours?"
Emma looked down at her paper. "Yes," she wrote. "Unforgettable." A lone tear trickled from the corner of her eye.
"Name. What jumps to mind?"
Emma quickly wrote one thing, almost as if she were afraid she would lose it if she didn't hurry, but when she turned the pad around, there wasn't a name written on the page, but rather a single letter. Emma had drawn the letter K.
Regina's Place
New York City, NY
Friday Early Evening
Regina stood in the middle of her apartment that was located in a prime location on the upper east side, and felt as if she were standing in someone else's house. She had lived in it for the better part of six years, yet the small place she had lived in for five months in Boston felt more like a home than this place. Had she really changed that much?
Standing in front of the mirror, she examined her appearance and realized it was true, she had changed. She had exchanged her severe suits for more relaxed and comfortable clothing, and traded in much of her black for red, yellow and blues. She even noticed a difference in her face. It appeared younger, more relaxed, and she often caught herself smiling for no reason except that she was happy. But the biggest change of all were her eyes. They sparkled, for lack of a better word, and it was all because she had opened her heart and allowed others inside.
Looking around the apartment, she realized that before she brought Robin home, she was going to have to do some rearranging. He would have both legs in casts for several more weeks, which meant room would need to be made for a wheelchair. She couldn't wait, she finally admitted to herself. Now that they had shared their feelings with each other, the possibility of a future with him was within her grasp. A family, just like she always wanted, kept floating through her mind, bringing with it a picture of Roland holding their hands and smiling up at them.
Thoughts of Roland brought on a wave of guilt for not having called Elsa or Blue to let them know what had happened, but she had assumed that Liam or Nemo would have done so, since they were Killian's family. With the appearance of Nemo's name, her thoughts changed direction and she realized it was time to try to make sense out of the information she had just been given about her mother...and Nemo? How was that right? Had she been dreaming? She leaned back and closed her eyes with the hope of replaying those events over...
"Knock knock knock," A slight hesitation before once again, "Knock, knock, knock."
Regina's eyes flew open, and without even opening the door, she knew who was going to be on the other side. On her way to answer it, she automatically looked down to see what she was wearing, wondering what negative comments would be forthcoming about her leggings and oversized shirt. Knowing it was too late to change, she took a deep breath and opened the door, but before greeting her mother, she had to look twice to make sure it really was Cora Mills standing there. "Mother?"
"Hello, dear." Cora kissed her cheek as she breezed by in a peasant blouse and, Regina gulped, bohemian skirt. "You look lovely."
She had to forcibly pick her chin up off the ground before she could shut the door and follow her mother inside. "Mother, you look…" she took in her outfit, so very unlike Cora, "different," she finally decided on.
Cora preened, "Oh, thank you. Dakkar picked it out."
"Oh?" Regina was having a difficult time mentally combining this woman with the rather haughty woman she had known her entire life.
"Why, yes, he did. I just love that he's so manly on one hand, yet isn't afraid to show me his softer side." Cora went on with the conversation as she took a seat on one of the sofas. "And that voice of his," she gave a little shiver, "it just does things to me," *wink, wink* "if you know what I mean."
"Mother!" Regina exclaimed, "A bit too much information about you and my...uh...boss."
Cora smiled calmly. "I do hope I'm not making you uncomfortable. I just love that man and what he does with his-"
"Mother!" Regina exclaimed thinking, please don't say it.
"Hands," Cora finished her sentence, and then without even stopping for a breath, continued, "So how about your young man? How is he with his hands?"
Regina studied her mother, trying to determine exactly was going on in her head, as the words coming out of her mouth were so atypical that she wasn't sure whether she should laugh or cry. "Robin is fine with his hands, but mother..."
"Just fine?" Cora interrupted, "I'm so sorry. You deserve someone who is more than just fine."
Never having found herself in this situation before, Regina wasn't exactly sure what it would take to get out of this conversation, for she felt as if she were caught between that proverbial rock and hard place. Deciding a change of topic might be the best way to handle the situation, she wracked her brain. "Tell me about your wedding plans"
"I would love to share our plans for the summer with you," Cora simpered, a huge smile on her face. "It's like this..."
University Hospital
Newark NJ
Friday Evening
Killian had to admit his safe place was becoming rather monotonous, and the longer he stayed, the more discouraged he became. He had looked around every corner he could find. He had looked in the deeper places as well as in the shallower ones, and it seemed that Emma was no longer close enough to be found. He knew he would never give up hope that some way, some day she would be returned to him, but for now, there was a little person who needed him, and if he were honest with himself, he needed them too. At one time the person he would have turned to in a time of emotional crisis had been his brother, yet since their parent's death, for one reason after another, they had continued to fail each other. The time had arrived for them to heal themselves. Once that had happened, then...they could heal as brothers.
He remembered the time that he had gone to see Liam after getting word that he had left Lily. When he had finally located him, his brother had been in a run-down establishment not far from where he was stationed, looking terrible. Bladdered, even before noon, and unkept. And from the amount of empty whiskey bottles around the room, his bender had been going on for several days. They had talked but even then, Liam refused to tell his story, keeping his pain and heartache bottled inside. For as long as Killian could remember, Liam had been the stoic one. He refused to show weaknesses or to allow Killian to see him as a person who might need others. By the end of the visit, Liam had sent him away. "Don't push me, Killian. I'll share when I'm ready."
After that encounter, they had each been so involved in their own lives that the time for each other was limited to holidays. But then Nemo had stepped in, acting as a surrogate father and had taken Liam away from England and the memories. Once that had happened, and Killian had moved to the United States, there had been hope that their relationship would change. But, alas, the Jones men were a stubborn lot, and after hearing Liam's story and the pain he was feeling, Killian had to wonder if anything or anyone could bring his brother back. Liam's heart had been crushed and it needed love to help it heal, but his brother needed to be willing to allow that love entry, and after their conversation in Liam apartment, Killian wasn't sure if that were possible.
"When I opened the door to the apartment, it was a mess.There were clothes strewn everywhere, empty containers littering the counters and dirty dishes stacked in the sink.Hearing noises in the bedroom, I had to see, and," he closed his eyes but the pain on his face was real.He took another deep breath, "I pushed open the door and there were several others in the room, all without clothing.All I saw was my wife in a compromising position with not one, but two men and I was out of there."
"That's another part of this tragic love story. I had decided that I didn't care if the child were mine or not, that I would claim them and give them our name. I didn't realize how much I wanted that until I found out that the child had been stillborn. I had nothing left and soI buried myself in work until Nemo convinced me I needed a change and I moved here to try to put the past behind me and for you, Killian. I made a vow that I would do what I had to in order to protect you, because I didn't want you to become the same kind of man that I saw when I looked in the mirror each day. So, there you have it, little brother. There is the sordid truth about women like Lily, and Emma, two peas in a pod, and why you should never marry a tramp like her."
It had taken hearing the pain in Liam's voice when he had uttered the words, "But how am I going to explain to Killian what happened to Emma?" as well as seeing how he, just like Liam, had allowed the pain to overwhelm him, preventing him from standing and fighting for what he wanted. It had, strangely enough, allowed him to put himself into the shoes that Liam had been walking in for years. And now he understood that the pain of losing someone you love can be so crippling that you go to a place where you lock it inside a box, only allowing it out a tiny piece at a time. Before he would allow himself to leave his safe place, he gathered all the pain that had sent him diving and locked it into a place where, as he healed and became stronger, he would take the pieces out and examine them bit by bit, until he had all the answers he needed.
He wrapped his love for Emma securely around him and slowly began his climb toward the surface. As he ascended, the memory of saying goodbye to Emma in his safe place floated through his mind.
She looked up, as if she were being called by someone above them, and after giving a little sigh, started pulling away. "They're calling me, Killian. I have to go."
"No, Emma," he cried, "I'm not ready to say goodbye." He gave her another kiss, this one hard and meant to leave an impression. He wanted to leave the taste and feel of his lips on her so that she would never forget him, just like he would never forget her.
She heaved another sigh as if she couldn't find the energy to push the words out, "Then don't say goodbye. Just remember your promise, Killian." Her body started floating upward as if she were on an elevator that was rising, leaving him behind.
He grabbed her hand with both of his to keep her in place, and kissed it longingly, trying desperately to keep her near him but it was slipping away. Before he lost her, he needed to tell her he loved her, one more time, and kissing her hand three times, repeating I love you after each kiss, both with actions and words, one last time before her hand slipped from his. "I'll remember, Emma. I won't ever forget my promise to you." As the tears silently made tracks down his face, she faded from sight, and he was left alone.
As he started to move, her last words echoed loudly in his mind, but the closer he got to the surface, the softer the sound until…eventually…it was no more. When his head broke through the silence and the world around him came alive, he forced his eyes to open to the bright light.
"Hello, Killian."
And Killian is back with us. See that wasn't too painful, was it? But now you have a bit more insight into Liam and his responsibiity as a big brother. Did it change your mind about him at all? And Cora is quite different, isn't she? I love Robin and Regina and can totally see Will as Robin's PT. Hope you enjoyed. Please let me know. Next week's Chapter is a long one. As always, preview on Sunday on tumblr and Chapter posted on Wednesday. Thanks for stopping by.