I have no time for fun. Life sucks.
Please enjoy this piece of fun I managed to squeeze out. It's not even that great :(
Gotham brought on a lot of ugly.
Especially in her little corner of it.
Leslie Tompkins life decisions were interesting to most. Like the one she made when she decided to open a little clinic in the heart of crime alley.
Most people couldn't understand that at all. She didn't really care, not like she asked them to understand anyway.
Not many things shook her. Not much surprised her. She knew a lot of dark secrets and may have helped raise the freaking Batman after all.
She was steeled against most of Gotham's surprises.
Joker broke out of arkam and gassed a few million? No problem, she had healthy dose of the antidote ready.
Killer Croc went on a rampage? Broke a bunch of people. No big deal, she'd have them stitched, plastered, and bandaged up together in no time.
Poison Ivy is on another plant justice spree and released poisonous plants on the population. That's fine, she had plenty of weed killer and antitoxins.
That was her life. This was the world she lived in, and she'd seen a whole lot of ugly living like this. But that didn't bother her, she did it because she'd seen so much. She did it to ease the ugly a little, very little, but still, some eased anyway.
She delt with the shady, the crass, and the sickly drugged . . . and much more, but she still dealt with them. She took them in, never turned anyone away, always helping fix something for someone. That was her life decision. That's what she did.
Not much surprised her.
"Heading out Doc?"
"In a minute, you go ahead Jeff. I'll see you tomorrow." Leslie smiled her dry, professional smile that barley reached her dulling blue eyes.
Her young assistant nodded, "See ya. Be carful."
Sure, careful, like that mattered in Gotham.
Jeff hadn't been gone for five minutes, when the rare night time quiet was shattered. Leslie sighed and pulled her white coat closer. A fight, right outside her door. Again. Somebody was going to bleed tonight. It was rare when they didn't.
Loud curses sounded out. Leslie walked toward her locked window and peeked out slightly, maybe they'd fight off and go their ways.
A group of three rather large teenagers were surrounding a small, thin, almost pathetically scrawny kid in the middle. Leslie watched as the kid mouthed off and got punched across the jaw for his trouble. She barely batted an eye lash.
She'd just go out and scare them away, that usually worked.
Then the boy stood up. Leslies' crisp face raised in surprise. Kid was a fighter, no doubt, stupid, but a fighter.
He fought all right, the other three actually seemed to struggle, one cheated and wacked the kid with a iron rod. He went down hard.
Leslie'd seen enough.
She threw the door open as forcefully as she could and barked harshly at the trio, successfully scareing the crap out of them.
They scattered instantly and left the kid to bleed by himself.
Leslie walked out into the smoggy dark and looked the little rat over. His clothes were too big for him and worn out, his face would swell with some ugly bruises and that would make the small sunken in cheeks stand out worse, he had dirt and purple smudges all over his face, and she didn't want to think about how she could count his ribs underneath when she lifted him up. She may be getting on in years, but being a doctor helped built up serious body strength, what with lifting hulking gang leaders all the time.
Besides, kid barely weighted anything.
She briskly set him inside, locked the door and went to work with hands that had years of practice with this.
Quickly she took off his upper garments and very nearly winced. She was right, she could count his ribs. And one did not look right. She sighed to herself and slipped on her latex gloves before proceeding in patching the little street rat up. Preferably hoping to finish before he woke up.
It took her twenty minutes to go over everything. Washed his cuts, disinfected them, bandaged his ribs, and stitch up a praticulaly bad wound in his arm.
He lay there, his yellow pale skin looking worse against her stark white hospital bed. Her eyes studied the sleeping boy as she peeled off her gloves. Kid was starved, his blood was low and she doubted he'd had anything real to eat for at least four days. She'd seen plenty of starving children, but that didn't make it easier. His body looked to be eating itself.
She sighed dryly and went to put her equipment away. It was late, she hadn't expected to stay tonight, but then, Gotham never let plans go right.
He stirred with a dry throated ground. That had to hurt. Leslie turned and regarded the child with an unimpressed face and slightly sympathetic eyes.
"Wha-where am I? Am I dead? This don't feel like dead . . . I thought dead would be . . .hotter."
Oh great, a wise cracker.
"Not dead boy. Just safe. For now. Do you usually pick fights in front of poor unsucpeting clinics?" She said crisply, gaining his attention. His eyes were striking. Even she could admit that. And she'd seen her share of striking eyes. They were an intreasting liquid mixture of green and blue, with shadows in them that showed he'd seen much more than a child should. Rough edged and sad. That's what they said to her.
Being a doctor in Gotham, she'd learned to read even the oddest and most obscure people that came through her doors.
He blinked, still flat on his back, "No. Not usually."
She humphed and went on to put her kits away, "Well, you're injured, you probably should stay inside for a few days, maybe a week."
He snorted behind her. She turned to see him sit up with a grimace, "No can do Doc. I got stuff to do." His eyes seemed fixed on her, pretty brave for a little brat.
"That stuff may get you killed." She said stiffly.
He shrugged and winced again, "So? Sooner the better. In case you haven't noticed Doc, this is crime alley. Either you eat or be eaten."
She found this amusing. Which was odd, few things amused her nowadays. Batman was one of those few things, when she wasn't angry at him. This kid had a whole bunch of bark to go with his bite. Telling her, a clear seasoned old woman, how the world here worked.
Funny. He was funny.
He must have noticed the slight tug at her lips, because he very nearly grinned back. His gaunt little face stretching mischievously as his eyes flashed.
She liked this little punk. Whoever he was. He spoke to something inside her. She didn't dare think what it was.
"You know that though. Don't you."
She nodded simpy, "Afraid I do, all too well kid. But, maybe you'll survive if you've figured that out so young." She leaned against her counter and crossed her arms with an unreadable look on her face.
"Well, whatever. See ya Doc. Hopefully not too soon though." He slid off the bed and grabbed his ratty hoddie to slip back on.
"Agreed. Do yourself a favor kid, stay out of uneccessary fights and you might survive a week longer." She advised non to comfortingly.
He tipped his head at her, slipping his arms through his hoddie, "Yah, see that's kinda a problem for me."
She amost rolled her eyes. "That's expected."
He stopped for a moment, seemingly thinking about something half turned towards the door. He turned around to face her fully after a second. "Thanks though Doc. Thanks a bunch."
She let a crisp smile cross her wrinkling face, "Dr. Tompkins. And don't you forget it."
He grinned, surprisingly bright for a hopless looking kid. "Jason. And I won't."
He was gone faster then he'd come. Leslie prepared herself for her journey home, not really expecting to see that little punk again.
Jason huh . . . funny how he reminded her of someone she knew.
Turns out she saw him sooner than she expected. Three months later actually.
Only he wasn't hurt or wanting a friendly chat. She'd caught him stealing. Stealing her drug doses that she handed out to pained patients. A hefty amount too. She helped him such a short time ago. . . and here he was, crouched behind her medical bed, sack bulging with pill bottles, face obscured by his hood, but she knew it was him. She knew.
"So, this is the thank you I get, kid?" She snapped dryly. Should have known he was another smooth mouthed thief only after drugs.
He seemed only mildly immobile, "Sorry you had to see this Doc." He crawled away and ran towards the window.
She frowned and pressed her security alarm. It freaked him out as he let go of the locked window pane. and whirled around looking for another way out which she was blocking. She briefly wondered if he'd ram her to get past.
"You have ten minutes before my special security gets here." Aka, Batman, but she wouldn't tell him that.
He stopped, deciding if she was serious, but, for whatever reason, he didn't ram her through, would have been easy for him, he straightened, dropped the bag at her feet and raised his hands up in surrender.
She humphed and lifted the bag up, "Didn't think you were the drug abusing type, kid. You hide pretty well." She said dryly.
He pulled back his hood, he looked utterly miserable, actually surprising her for a moment.
"S'not for me Doc." He mumbled, not looking at her.
She raised a thin graying eyebrow. "Really?" She didn't really believe that, "Then whose it for?"
He shuffled uncomfortably, not meeting her eyes. She actually hoped he was telling the truth, but his hesitant made her believe otherwise. Too bad, she'd liked this kid. She'd hoped he was one of the rare good ones out here.
He mumbled something.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Say again."
"For my Mom." He huffed, angry for some reason. "She's in a lot of pain and I can't fix her so I . . . I really need that stuff Doc, she won't stay awake otherwise."
"For-" She stopped and stared, this was rare, she hadn't really come across someone stealing for . . . "Your mother huh."
He looked up, slightly colored. "Yah."
She bit the inside of her cheek, weighing if she should believe him or not. His face was strangely open and . . .sad.
She sighed, internally cursing these lingering soft spots in herself, she pulled out a bottle and tossed it to him, he caught it with surprising dexterity. "Bring her here kid."
His eyes snapped to her, shocked. "What?"
"You heard me. Bring her here and let me see what I can do." So she liked the kid, sue her.
He swallowed, clearly debating if he should believe her or not. So they were in the same boat. Ok good, made him a little more reliable.
"O-ok." He finally managed, she wasn't sure but she may have seen a little glimmer of hope in his eyes.
She decided not to dwell on it. "Tomorrow. Now get out. We're not open yet."
He slowly walked towards her, unsure if he was allowed to use the door. She stepped aside to show him he was. He gripped the handle and paused.
She waited.
He suddenly raised his head and flashed her a grin so big she didn't know how his face didn't split, "Thanks Dr. Tompkins. Thanks a bunch."
She wouldn't ever say it out loud, but that look plus his surprising sincerity may or may not have sent a warm tingle through her chest.
"Watch yourself next time, or I'll call Batman on you."
He still grinned and opened the door.
"Tomorrow, ten o'clock, don't be late Jason."
He nodded and waved before running off.
Leslie watched, intrigued by that little punk. Few people could worm their way into her professionally sealed heart, and in such a short period of time too. She wondered what made that kid different. She suddenly wanted him to live. To grow up, to move through life and take the world by storm.
Maybe he would.
She couldn't put her finger on it, but she had a feeling she would be seeing a lot more of that kid.
Besides it wasn't everyday someone could surprise Leslie Tompkins.
Not when she knew Gotham so well.
Maybe this city had a few diamonds to churn out yet.
For those that were waiting for my Cats Instead of Bats story to update. I'm sorry, like I said life sucks.
Please take this small plot bunny for a while ok...
For those that aren't, I hope hope you enjoyed this too.