The people who were in the waiting room with them were not causing too much of a disturbance. It was like there was some unwritten code that prevented anybody from talking to each other. Emma didn’t mind much, she liked to keep to herself, but Emma could tell Killian was the complete opposite.

Three chairs over from them were a tired looking couple. They couldn’t have been any older than Emma, and out of the corner of her eye she could see that they had a young toddler. The father looked haggard, the exhaustion etched onto his face. He was slouched down in the chair, his feet crossed at the ankles and his arms folded over his chest. His shirt was rumpled all over, and there was a distinct orange stain on one of his shoulders.

The young mother looked older than she probably was due to her own fatigue. The corners of her eyes were creased, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She wore a jumper, some baggy sweatpants and some hard bottoms slippers, probably thrown on in the haste of leaving their home in such a hurry. As Emma looked them over, she guessed they had probably been there far longer than she and Killian.

The little girl beside the mother sat obediently on the fold down chair. Her tiny hands were rung together, resting in a pile on her lap and Emma could see she was pale. Her skin was clammy and her eyes red, probably from crying so long, and Emma could have sworn she saw a slight hitch in her tiny body as the after effects of her sobs still rocked her minute frame.

The little girl looked directly at Killian, studying the side of his face with an inquisitive stare. Emma smiled, watching her and wondering what she was thinking. Her tiny sweat beaded forehead furrowed a little, and her short, shallow breaths made her entire body move silently as she breathed.

As if he could tell somebody was looking at him, Killian turned his head slowly and locked eyes with the little girl. She didn’t look away but instead met his gaze unashamedly, her little cheeks blushing when her eyes darted to Killian’s hand clutched to his lap. Killian followed her gaze, understanding her confusion instantly.

The little girl shuffled in her seat, turning so that she was totally facing Killian. Killian leaned sideways, sliding his hand behind him as he did, and pulling the seat down between them. He leaned down on his elbow until he was eye level with the little girl, the chair shifting under his weight. Her eyes flicked to his blunted hand once more and Killian grabbed her attention with his other hand, pointing to his nose with his long index finger.

The little girl’s mouth twitched up into a weak smile, her fatigue so heavy over her little body that Killian was surprised she could keep her eyes open and muster a smile at all. He poked his nose and then pointed to the little girl, sticking out his tongue and wiggling it mischievously. Emma couldn’t see what he was doing from where she was sitting, but the smile on the toddler’s face grew slightly and Emma’s soon matched it.

It seemed, amongst other things, Killian was quite good with children.

When the little girl laughed, the echo of her innocent chuckle bouncing around the room, the father stirred. He peeled his eyes open and pushed himself up in his seat, his instinct searching out his daughter’s voice. His eyes fell on Killian, darting between him and his daughter who was clapping her hands together with excitement and burying her face into her mother’s side.

The father smiled, thankful that for the first time in nearly twenty-four hours, his daughter was not screaming. A wave of relief washed over him, and his wide eyes relaxed back into their tired state once he knew his daughter was not unhappy once more. The mother wrapped her arms around the tot, helping her hide her face from Killian’s silliness, her own small laugh slipping from her throat.

“Funny man,” the little girl said gleefully, her toes wiggling in her booted sleepsuit.

“Is he?” The mother asked her with a smile, as if she didn’t know Killian had been making her daughter laugh.

Killian flashed the mother a smile and leaned back up into his seat, letting the chair beside him spring back against the wall with a dull thud. The little girl’s eyes flicked back to Killian’s stump and with a tiny, crooked finger, she pointed at it.

“No fingers,” the little girl said quickly, looking at her mother for an explanation.

The mother blushed, apologising for her daughter instantly with a silent look. Killian shook his head a little, brushing it off. He was used to people staring, didn’t even mind it, but the innocence of children bought out a brutal honesty that often made the adults around them uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” She said quickly, smoothing her hand over her daughter’s back. The girl looked at her and then to Killian.

“Where?” She pointed at his hand again, scrambling to pull down the seat next to her and climb into the cooler plastic chair. She crossed her legs over each other, the tiny bobbled feet of her onesie making a scraping sound over the plastic.

Killian looked to where his hand once was and covered the end with his long fingers. There had been many stories he had told children over the years since his accident, but his favourite still lingered at the forefront of his mind. It wasn’t too scary and had just the right amount of excitement for such a young mind.

Killian licked his lips a little before looking over at the little girl again. His eyebrow jumped up on his face, and he gave her a sideways grin. He crooked a finger at her and leaned sideways over the gap, the little girl eagerly matching his lean and resting forward on her knees. The dark circles under her eyes disappeared when her eyes went wide and she sniffed at a dribble of snot that had escaped her nostril.

“A crocodile took it,” he whispered at her, grinning wildly after his words. The little girl gasped, her little body stiffening in her seat.

“Cwockodile?” She repeated his words with amazement and Killian nodded, watching a small line of drool escape from her mouth which hung open a little.

“A big, big crocodile,” Killian told her with a deep, booming voice. The little girl looked riveted, leaning even more forward.

“Came right out of the sea and CHOMP!” Killian slapped his stump and the little girl jumped back in her seat, her tiny hands clutching over her mouth.

“It eated it!?” The girl gasped and Emma grinned from behind Killian. The little girl couldn’t have been older than three and yet she was fearless, enthralled by Killian’s story despite its horrific undertones.

Killian sat back in his seat and swallowed dramatically, making a cartoon style gulping noise as he did so. The toddler’s face spread into a wide grin, only her two front pegs fully broken through her gums. Her laughing got louder and she turned to her mother, tugging harshly on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. She was just about to babble something when a nurse called to her parents, signalling it was their turn to see a doctor.

Killian sat back, offering the parents a smile as they made their way from the waiting room. The little girl clutched at her mother’s shoulders, resting her head sideways and grinning at Killian shyly as they disappeared around a blue privacy curtain.

“A crocodile, huh?” Emma tried to suppress her laugh, but a snort escaped her throat. Killian leaned back in his chair and gave her a smirk, his eyebrow quirking up on his forehead. He reached up behind his ear and scratched the skin there, a habit Emma was coming to notice he did more and more.

“Aye,” Killian said confidently, reclaiming his hand from the gap between them. “Have you ever tried to explain the intricacies of sailing to a babe?”

Emma shook her head with a chuckle, looking down at her own hand painfully wrapped with the rough textured, off white towel. Killian had a point. She had not, and it seemed a more fitting thing to simply make up how he had come to have only one hand. At least then, Killian could change his story to suit the situation or age of his audience.

Emma’s hand throbbed. The pain had subsided, but only a little. The adrenaline that had caused her body to flush hot and her blood to pump from the open wound in her palm had long since faded away, and she was now in the stages of being in uncomfortable pain. Shifting in her seat, Emma pulled her wrapped hand to her chest and sighed.

“I’m sure it will not be much longer,” Killian offered lightly, noticing Emma’s discomfort. “Once again, I am truly sorry, Swan.”

Emma studied him as he spoke, his eyes full of hurt. Killian was a good guy, Emma could tell that, and behind all of the bravado and confidence was a man who had lived through his fair share of sorrow.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Emma narrowed her eyes and twisted her head sideways.

“To what are you referring?” Killian asked her nervously, his position shifting so he was leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. Emma watched him squirm and noticed how he avoided her gaze, instead fixing his stare on the floor between his feet.

“Apologising,” Emma said shortly, her voice a little too frustrated. The pain in her hand had radiated up her arm now and she was a little more irritated than she would like to admit.

Killian looked at her and gave her a tight lipped smile. “I’m sorry,” he chuckled and Emma rolled her eyes.

So British.

“This isn’t your fault,” Emma said flatly.

“I feel like it is,” Killian admitted and Emma’s brow furrowed with confusion. Before he had time to say anything else, Emma reached out with her hand and wrapped it gently around his wrist. Killian watched her fingers grip at his skin, the heat from her fingertips searing into his flesh.

Emma wasn’t sure why she felt the need to reassure him but she did. Emma didn’t know much about Killian Jones, but she knew he could bury himself in guilt as good as she could. Nobody was to blame for them being there, but the pang of sorrow in his voice as he spoke began to chip away at the walls around her heart.

Uh oh.

“Emma Swan?”

They both looked to their right, the voice of a tall, thin, blonde nurse bringing them both back to reality. Emma pulled her hand away from Killian’s wrist quickly and then they stood in unison and the nurse waved them to follow her with a smile.

The soft, rubber clog style shoes that she wore squeaked across the floor as she walked. Emma followed the nurse hurriedly, noting how she walked quite fast despite them falling behind. Killian fell into line behind the two women, his hand tucked under one arm and his lip tucked nervously under his teeth.

“Just in here,” the nurse stopped by a cubicle and extended her arm, motioning Emma inside. She was a little too joyous for this early in the morning, and Emma forced a smile as she walked past the taller woman into the room. “A doctor will be along shortly.”

“Thank you,” Killian told her softly, following Emma into the makeshift room and watching the nurse leave, her squeaky shoes echoing down the hall.

Emma perched on the edge of the bed, the crisp white sheets rippling under her weight. She blew out a breath, and looked around, noticing how every inch of the hospital looked identical to the next.

“What a great first day,” She huffed, focusing on a dark patch in the corner of the ceiling that had clearly been covered unsuccessfully with cheap paint.

“You are not enjoying this?” Killian teased, easing himself into the chair beside the bed and relaxing into the plush, plastic coated cushioning.

“Oh yeah,” Emma laughed weakly.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Killian promised with a grin.

“And you’ll pay me overtime for this,” Emma scoffed, wincing a little.

“Of course,” Killian bowed his head in agreement, amused by how bold Emma became when she was agitated. He had only seen her so bold once before, but they were both too drunk then.

“Good,” Emma pursed her lips when another pain rocked her arm.

The curtain to the cubicle rattled along its plastic rail and made Emma jump back a little. The square jawed doctor stepped into the space they occupied, his head buried in the clipboard of notes about his patient. He had short, cropped blonde hair that was clearly out of a bottle, and Emma gave Killian a silently amused twitch of a smile.

“Emma Swan,” the doctor said softly as he looked up from his notes. “I’m Dr. Whale,” he said with a chirp, resting the clipboard to the end of the bed and plunging his hands into the big pockets of his lab coat. “What can we do for you today?”

Emma held up her wrapped hand and sighed. “Injury at work,” she said simply, tentatively resting her hand on her thigh.

Plucking two sterile gloves from a wall mounted box, Dr. Whale stepped forward and picked up Emma’s bound hand. He squinted at the makeshift bandage, wrinkling his nose a little at the smell that was wafting from the fabric.

“The wound was bathed in alcohol and wrapped immediately,” Killian butted in, leaving out the finer details of his quick medical attempt.

“So it seems,” Whale swallowed, the taste of metallic tainted rum sticking to the back of his throat.

“At least it has stopped bleeding,” Emma said through a wince as Whale began to unwrap the towel. The material has become crusted with her blood and it pulled against the edges of the wound as Whale unravelled it. A hot wetness pooled in her palm once more as the slit in her hand reopened and the thick, red ooze began to flow from the cut once more.

“I’m sorry,” Whale said quickly, grabbing some sterile gauze he had set up beside Emma’s thigh and pressing it to the wound. “This looks nasty.”

“How bad?” Killian interjected and Emma shot him a look.

Whale lifted her hand closer to his face, twisting her wrist as he inspected it. Dabbing more gauze, he cocked his head sideways. Emma watched him intently, eager to hear the answer to Killian’s question.

“Can you do this?” Whale asked Emma, clenching his fist and then flexing his fingers back open. Emma copied his movements, gritting her teeth through the pain. Blood spurted from her palm once more when she flexed her hand and it ran over her fingers like water.

“How about this?” Whale made a pinching action, pressing his thumb and forefinger together, moving his thumb between his fingers one after the other and back again. Again, Emma copied him, pushing through the pain in order to do so.

“It hurts like hell,” Emma bit out, the dull throb radiating up her forearm.

“That’s good,” Whale smiled, his thin lips barely covering his small, peg like teeth. “It means you haven’t damaged any nerves.”

Whale stepped back and snapped his gloves from his hands, tossing them into a square, metal yellow bin behind him.

“Is she going to be okay?” Killian asked eagerly, looking over at Emma as the words fell from his lips.

Emma looked over and met his stare, his impossibly blue eyes filled with genuine worry. It was a strange sensation, being cared for, one that Emma didn’t think she would ever get used to feeling during her entire life. Snow was usually the one to do all the caring and it seemed a little strange for Emma to cause so much worry in someone she’d just met.

But then again, Killian Jones had done nothing but surprise her so far.

“I’m going to get a nurse to come stitch you up, and then you and your boyfriend can head home.” Whale gave them both one last smile and then disappeared through the curtain, pulling it closed behind him.

Boyfriend? Is it that obvious?

Emma shot Killian a glance, rolling her eyes when his eyebrow jumped up on his forehead and his lips twitched sideways.

“Don’t say it,” Emma warned him.

“Whatever do you mean?” Killian bit his tongue between his teeth and gave her a boyish grin.

Emma clenched her hand closed around the padded gauze, watching it soak up the blood and turning the sterile dressing a glistening red colour.

“We haven’t even been on our date yet,” Emma scoffed.

“By definition, love, spending time together in a setting other than work or around friends, makes it a date,” Killian laughed at his own words, especially Emma’s response. Emma gasped, her whole body shaking with a single snort of laughter.

“This is not a date,” She shook her head incredulously. “If it was, I would not agree to a second.”

Killian feigned shock, sitting back and placing his hand over his heart.

“You wound me, Swan,” he grinned.

At that exact moment, a tiny nurse slipped through the curtain with a small metal tray in her hands. She was already wearing gloves and the tray was laden with the supplies she was going to need. She smiled at Killian and then introduced herself to Emma.

“Ouch, Honey, that looks like something got you good,” she said sweetly, her accent clearly out of place in New York. She had a thick, Texas accent that confused both of them, until she looked at them with a knowing wave of her hand and a click of her tongue. “I’m a bit far from home, I know, but my husband is from New York.”

“We are all far from home,” Killian nodded at her knowingly, his own accent covering his words.

The nurse picked up Emma’s hand and sucked in a hiss through her teeth. “That’s deep, but don’t you worry,” she patted Emma on the knee lovingly, moving to pick up the filled syringe on the tray beside her. “I’m going to fix you right up.”

Emma watched her closely as she plucked the needle from the tray, holding the tiny clear liquid filled syringe at eye level and squirting a little from the needle. Emma was no stranger to pain, she had dealt with it all of her life, but it never got any easier.

The nurse instructed Emma on how to position her hand and then apologised as she pricked Emma’s skin with the numbing agent.

“Son of a…” Emma’s palm stung instantly and she stiffened her entire body, trying desperately to not pull her hand from where the nurse had laid it. A pang of guilt invaded Killian’s heart and without thinking, he reached out and grabbed Emma’s hand.

The sting in her hand turned to a burn as the nurse injected the numbing agent around the wound, but Emma did not notice. Killian’s skin on hers was like fire, the warmth turning the pain her other arm to nothing. Emma looked to their joined hands as Killian laced his fingers with hers, encouraging her to grip onto his fingers with a gentle squeeze.

Emma felt like she couldn’t breathe. Killian didn’t have to bring her to the hospital, and he didn’t have to wait with her. He most certainly didn’t have to offer her an out for her pain, especially in the form of his hand in hers. The walls around Emma’s heart cracked, and when Killian smiled at her reassuringly, Emma was sure that one side of her defense crumbled.

Emma pinched her eyes closed and hissed. The needle pierced her skin for the last time, the burning liquid being injected into the wound site as deep down as the stitches would go.

“All done,” The nurse declared, capping the needle and sliding to the side of the room where she deposited it into the designated receptacle.

Emma let out the breath she had been holding, and all she heard was her heart pounding in her ears. She released her hold on Killian and he too let out a breath she hadn’t realised he was holding.

“Alright?” he asked her softly, almost a whisper. Emma nodded quickly, swallowing and puffing a short pant out and across her upper lip.

“Okay, sweetie, now to the stitching part,” the nurse announced as she arrived back at the bedside and pulled on a new set of gloves. A wisp of white powder escaped into the air when she snapped the cuff to her wrist but evaporated almost immediately. “Don’t worry,” she smiled at Killian and then Emma. “I’m very good at sewing.”

The stitching part was still painful but was somewhat dulled by the numbing agent. Emma felt just a little pressure in her palm, following by the oddest sensation as the blue, plastic suture was pulled through her skin, knitting the edges together with a knot.

Killian felt Emma tighten her grip once more and she turned her head away from what the nurse was doing. It was unexpected of her, almost childlike, and he frowned a little when he saw Emma shy away.

“I thought you were brave, love,” he leaned forward and whispered into Emma’s ear. His breath tickled the shell of her ear and Emma peeled her eyes open to look at him. She swallowed hard, the sudden lump in her dry throat difficult to manage. Killian’s face was so close to hers and Emma’s breath hitched in her chest, the light blue of his eyes suddenly more of a grey colour.

“I am,” Emma’s voice quivered when the tip of her nose brushed against his as she turned to face him. Emma’s green orbs flitted between Killian’s dusty blues and his lips.

Kiss him.

Staring into each other's eyes made the world fall away from them, and Emma wondered what exactly her own words had meant. She was sure that when Killian had asked her if she was brave, he wasn’t talking about getting stitches.

Kiss him, Emma. Listen to yourself.

Killian rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, swallowing hard. The emerald sparkle in Emma’s eyes was obsessively alluring, and Killian couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers. There was a ferocity in her stare, something deep down that made Killian begin to sweat under his hairline. His tongue darted out to moisten his smile and Emma could have sworn that it touched the plumpness of her parted lips.

Emma felt like she might explode. She wasn’t sure if she was frozen to the spot because of fear of Killian kissing her, or because she was scared he might not.

“Right, you’re done,” the nurse’s southern drawl shook them both from their reverie as she patted Emma on the knee again. Emma pulled her hand from Killian’s and coughed a little, clearing her throat. Killian sat back in his chair, running his hand through his hair as he sank back into the seat.

“Thanks,” Emma smiled at her, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

The nurse looked at Killian and gave him a sweet grin. “You can take her home whenever you feel ready,” she winked as she left them alone once more.

Emma laughed, hiding her face in her hand.

“Don’t be so dismissive of the doctor’s orders,” Killian told her smugly, scratching the skin behind his ear again.

“She’s a nurse,” Emma said flatly, hopping from the bed and giving him a warning look. “Don’t get any ideas, Jones.”

“Did you not enjoy yourself today?” Killian smirked.

“Worst date ever,” Emma teased, flicking her hair over her shoulder with her good hand.

Killian flicked his wrist and looked at the time on his watch. They had been in the hospital for nearly four hours and it was most certainly now lunch time. “Let me take you to lunch so that I may make it up to you.”

Emma studied his face, the tension from their almost kiss now seemingly non existent. She bit the inside of her mouth and eyed him suspiciously. “It’s not a date,” Emma said defiantly, pointing an accusing finger at him.

Killian shook his head. “Most certainly not.”

“Right, okay,” Emma relaxed a little, smoothing the wrinkles out of her top with one hand. She just wanted to get out of the hospital.