Everyone had regrets. It was just life, maybe you were too shy and insecure to ask out that person you crushed on throughout high school. Maybe it was thinking that your outfit was fashionable when it wasn't. Or perhaps thinking you could still handle your alcohol like you did when you were in your early twenties.
As far as Santana Lopez was concerned, her biggest regret—the only thing that she wished she could have a do-over for was signing a deal with the devil. She had been young and foolish, and more importantly she had been desperate. Being accepted into medical school was supposed to be a happy occasion, but all she had been able to think about was how she was going to afford it. She had been already swimming in student loans, and staring at an eviction notice she had made the idiotic decision to strike a deal with Russell Fabray to pay her debt, and pay for her education.
Everyone in the neighborhood knew exactly what type of man Russell Fabray was. It didn't matter that he lived in a rather modest house and he appeared to be a very active pillar of the community. From churches to charity work.
It was all bullshit. Yes, Russell Fabray went to mass every Sunday, and yes, he did do quite of bit of charity work—she had seen him in the soup kitchens at least twice a month giving out food to the homeless. And yes, he seemed to be a perfect family man. Blessed with twins, a boy and a girl and a very loving if not ditzy wife. But behind that jovial smile of his and the almost easy-going nature of his, Russell Fabray was a monster.
Racketeering, organized crime, she was sure that he also bought and sold arms to wannabe gangsters and she was mostly certain that he had dropped his fair share of bodies. He certainly had a protection racket, but the people didn't seem to mind paying for it. No one was selling drugs in the neighborhood, well none of the illegal kind. She was certain he had opened up the only legal cannabis store in the area, which was currently making money hand over fist.
He was the devil, and she had made a deal with him. Her debts were paid, her landlord stopped asking her to pay rent, and she hadn't struggled all through medical school. She had graduated top of her class, without worrying about the insane price of textbooks, or simple food. She had even gotten a surgical residency at one of the nearby teaching hospitals, another gift from Russell.
She had tried to pay him back when she started to make a bit of money of her own, but he hadn't wanted a penny from her, she had even offered to pay him with interest. But he had refused, she was an investment, and he would need her services at some point or another. She was worried that her body was going to be the next one that Russell Fabray dropped, until one night she had been dragged into a dark SUV, and taken to a what she assumed was an abandoned warehouse, but the insides were clean, sterile even. And when she was forcibly dragged inside, she spotted a man clutching his stomach, his hands a bloody mess. It takes her a moment to realize that he has a gunshot wound to the stomach.
It's almost clear what they want her to do, and she realizes she's not the only one who's made a deal with the devil. She has nurses, and assistants there working for her, helping her save the man's life. They don't talk, they just work for hours trying to save the man's life.
She does some of her best work that day, because she's terrified of the consequences if she fails, and she manages to save him. Barely, she's certain he dies a few times on the table, but she stops the bleeding and removes the bullet which is quickly whisked away by one of the men who is there. She doesn't give it any mind and she has no idea where or how they've managed to get blood and plasma, or even powerful anesthetic. But they have it all.
It's basically a functioning hospital. And when the man is stable, and she's exhausted she gets driven back home. The experience is traumatizing and she hopes it's not a nightly thing. She prays it's not a nightly thing because she's unsure how she can continue her career and be some doctor for criminals. She really hopes it's the end of it.
And for two weeks, she hopes that her debt is paid, until Russell Fabray walks into her office, apparently, he had an appointment, and hands her a manila envelope that contains fifteen thousand dollars, in hundred-dollar bills. She wants to say no but Russell with that easy going smile of his, which she had never noticed was menacing before shakes his head.
'People should always be paid what their worth.'
The devil always came around to get what was his, and in this case, she knew what he wanted. His own personal doctor and trauma team for criminals. The money was just to ensure loyalty to him and to forget any names. He didn't even seem to mind that they wouldn't be able to save everyone, so long as they provided the very best care.
The only thing she could have done at that moment was negotiate a better deal for herself, being kidnapped every time that someone needed emergency surgery wasn't good for anyone, and work hours, she needed sleep especially if she was going to keep doing a good job and Russell had agreed.
She had changed her hours at work, from eight till three and she would be on-call till midnight from that point on. She had also forced him to agree that it would be better to allow people who couldn't afford a regular doctor to see her. To give it an air of legitimacy, it was her way of giving back to the community.
To most people, like Tina the nurse who quite frankly ran the entire operation, from ordering all the necessary medical equipment, Russell wasn't the devil. And even if he was, the cost had only been their social life. They all made more than enough money, and they weren't even doing anything illegal. They were helping the community that they had grown up in.
Even if some of the criminals were crude and made sexually charged advances, it was still worth it. And it was why they kept Karofsky around.
~ O ~
"We've got the patient in bed three who is insisting on seeing a doctor." Tina murmured to her as she headed to check the whiteboard that they had. They only had ten beds and most of the area was curtained off so it led to some modicum of privacy for the patients.
Santana groaned as she sipped on her fourth coffee of the day, whenever Tina said something like that it usually meant that it was very minor, and it was something she could handle. "So, tell the patient you're the doctor and fix them."
Tina snorted at that, "Dave said bed 4 is a VIP, I mean I don't recognize her but if Dave says that they're a VIP then they're a VIP, so you know try not to rip their head off for being stupid."
Santana snorted, she made no promises. Her days were long and some of the criminals she had to deal with were dumb as rocks. Tina hands her a clipboard and she makes her way towards the curtained off area. It seemed like a simple laceration according to Tina's notes and she looks up to see a blonde woman sitting on one of the beds holding her shoulder with a pad that was currently soaked through with blood. She certainly didn't look like a VIP. "Hello, I'm Doctor Lopez, I'll be your doctor today."
A startling pair of hazel-green eyes flick towards her for a moment, "Cool," the woman drawls.
Santana takes a seat close to the woman, she seemed almost lethargic, but that seemed almost normal. "So—could I have a name?" Santana asks.
"Charlie."
"That's a nice name," Santana said conversationally as she puts on some gloves and gently peels back the thick gauze pad that is soaked with Charlie's blood. "You want to tell me what happened Charlie?"
"I fell down some stairs," came the flat reply.
Santana stopped what she was doing, and looked into Charlie's face, only to see an amused smirk playing on her lips. She was definitely part of the criminal element and even though she's cute for a criminal, she didn't date patients she had worked too hard to get licensed to blow it all on a few minutes of pleasure. Especially with one that was clearly a shitty liar, this looked like a rather clean stab wound. "I see. Was it a flight of stairs with a bunch of shattered glass bottles on the ground?" This elicits laughter from Charlie who swears after a moment. "I'm just saying that you got lucky that the wound isn't any deeper." Santana mused. It was a deep one to the anterior aspect of the deltoid muscle, it seemed to have torn through some of the more superficial arteries, but it certainly hadn't gone through any of the major ones. "I'm going to clean the wound, it will hurt. A lot. Then I'm going to stitch it closed, Tina will give you instructions on how to keep the wound clean, and how to take care of it."
"Okay."
Santana flicks her eyes to the woman for a moment, those eyes of hers were focused on her, even if she seemed relatively relaxed. "Dave says you're a VIP," she says conversationally as she gets the instruments she's going to need.
"Me? I can barely walk down the stairs without tripping on them. I'm no one important," came the simple reply.
"So, we're sticking to that story?" Santana questioned as she removed her gloves, and put on a new pair and began to cleanse the wound. She hears the soft hiss and looks up at the woman who still had a rather easy going smile on her face.
"Yes." Came the monosyllabic reply from Charlie. "You don't have to numb it," she says before Santana can open the numbing agent.
"Excuse me?" Santana asks blinking.
"I'd rather you didn't numb it," Charlie repeats, raising her own eyebrow.
Santana raises a brow, "You fell down some stairs. I think it's clear to everyone that Rambo you are not." When Charlie just stares at her she sighs. "If you scream, I'm putting the numbing agent on. I am not dealing with someone who thinks they are tough shit."
"Fair enough." Charlie said nodding her head for Santana to continue.
Santana studies Charlie once more before starting to make the sutures, and after a quiet hiss, there is nothing else as she begins to suture the wound close. "This still doesn't make you Rambo," she says as she finished, pulling off her gloves and looking at the sutured wound.
"Noted," Charlie responds as she reaches for her worn leather jacket and slides it on. "Now do I get my gold star sticker and another sucker?" She waves the empty stick with her good arm.
Santana resisted the urge to snort. "You're not five."
"People have said otherwise. So, sticker and sucker?"
Santana rolled her eyes, well hopefully it was the last time she had to deal with this particularly brand of crazy. Maybe Charlie was a masochist. Either way she hoped that she never really had to deal with this 'VIP' again. She stops at the makeshift desk and nods towards Tina. "Give her a sticker or something."
"And a sucker," Charlie adds unhelpfully.
"We've got pretzel sticks," Tina said when Santana rolls her eyes and grabs the next clipboard ready to get back to work.
"That'll have to do," Charlie said as she fishes open her pocket and drops a stack of money onto the table. She reaches and grabs one pretzel stick, putting it in her mouth.
Santana looks up to spot Charlie balancing the pretzel stick between her lips. She looks absolutely ridiculous and it takes all she has not to laugh at how stupid she looks. "Give her the talk about keeping her wound clean, and what to look out for." Bed five looked like a simple dislocated shoulder, she could reset that in her sleep. But she'd need Karofsky's help. "Dave, I need you in bed five." She spots Dave staring at Charlie and scowls as she moves to wave a hand in front of his face. "You got the wrong person Dave, she said she wasn't a VIP. Whatever the fuck that means."
Dave turned to look at Santana an incredulous look on his face, "Santana, that's Charlotte Fabray. Russell's only daughter," he hisses at her.
Santana turns to watch as Charlie chews on the pretzel stick as Tina talks. "She's still a weirdo Dave, it's no big deal. Now can we go because we've got a patient in bed five. This weekend is like my first weekend off and I want to get out of here early." Maybe she could finally get laid.
