Author's Note: I own nothing. I wish I did.
*Narrator’s POV*
Saleen Beaudlaire was a professional hand surgeon. Killian Jones was a handless man. Anyone else see the irony?
*Saleen’s POV*
“Dr. Beaudlaire? I have another patient who needs a pre-surgery exam,” says my assistant, Anya. I sigh. “Alright, what’s the name?” I ask wearily, grabbing a blank exam form out of my folder. “It’s an odd one,” laughs Anya.
“Just tell me the name,” I snap.
“Killian Jones. And try not to scare him off with that attitude,” says Anya. I straighten up as she slams her hand over her mouth. NO ONE and I mean NO ONE backtalks me. I am in charge of hiring, firing, and payroll in this miserable office. One wrong move and I can ensure that this moldy office roof will be the only roof over your head. Yes. Be afraid. Be very afraid.
“Anya, need I remind you that you get paid next Friday?” I ask. Anya shakes her head and mutely hands me Killian Jones’s medical records. I walk into the waiting room, reading the form as I go. At one particular injury I stop dead in my tracks. No. It can’t be. But it has to be. No one else in the WORLD would have the injury. I shake myself off and open the door to the waiting room.
“Killian Jones!” I call. A man clad in almost all black leather stands up, puts down a racy magazine, and walks holding his right arm under his left armpit. “Third door on the left,” I direct him. He and I walk in total silence to the room.
“Take off your shirt,” I command. He smirks up at me. Then the smirk fades and a murderous look comes into his eyes.
“You,” he breathes.
I look at him. “I’m Dr. Beaudlaire. I need you to remove your shirt so I can test your lungs and your-” My voice cracks on the word and I clear my throat. “Heart. I need to check your heartbeat,” I finish confidently. His eyes look even more murderous.
“She’s having you kill me. I know who you are,” he mutters.
I sigh and roll my eyes. “I am Saleen Beaudlaire. I live with my aunt. I am supposed to perform a hand surgery on you in 25 minutes so if you could PLEASE remove your shirt so I can check your vitals. If you have a problem with that, the other surgeons and I will gladly put you under anesthesia without knowing your medical history but if God forbid something goes wrong because you’re allergic to something we’re not aware of, by all means, kill yourself.” He looks shocked that I’ve said this.
"Why so eager to have my shirt off, hmmmm?" I smile docilely at him, then strip his shirt off him in three seconds. I pull the stethoscope off from around my neck and put the cold metal over his heart. He flinches. "Not very professional, love," he says. I smirk again. "Next time, cooperate."
Killian smirks back at me. "Oh, will there be a next time?"
I turn around, grab the anesthesia needle off the table behind me, and face him. "This is anesthesia. I have to make sure you're asleep before I give this to you. It can be injected in six pulse points on your body and it hurts like hell. Or, it can be dripped into your arm through a tube. I recommend that my patients opt for the tube option but I'm not feeling very flexible today," I snap. Killian pales but recovers quickly. "I've experienced unspeakable pain," he says. I smirk at him. "I'm sure you have, considering your name is Killian and at some point in your life you had to set foot in a school," I comment. He glares at me as I take his pulse, put heartbeat monitors on him, and take his blood pressure. "I had my hand viciously-" "Bitten off by a crocodile, yes I know, you've mentioned it four hundred times," I say, without thinking. He looks at me and says, "So you ARE real. She DID send you to kill me." I laugh mercilessly. "What? You think that some Evil Queen sent me to kill you?" I ask. I look at the expression on his face. I am a terrific liar, most times merciless assassin, but above all I am impossible to beat. I can spot weaknesses a mile away and I ALWAYS know when someone is lying to me. But I'm also not stupid. I know I can't lie my way out of this and I also know that I need to scare Killian a little. So I give him my most vicious smirk and say, "You're right."
