Authors note: I have been on this site since 2012 and have never posted a story. I've started many stories, but never published or finished them. I'm incredibly self-critical, to the point where nothing gets done. This is my attempt to change that. Anyway, this story is about Louisa. She's cynical by Gotham's design and keeps to herself. Her friend Maggie has just graduated medical school and decides to open a free clinic in a not so safe place in midtown. Louisa reluctantly joins but realizes quickly the patients aren't just the homeless and hopeless. I'd say the plot starts around Batman Begins, but keep in mind I don't follow the film's plot religiously.
This is a Joker/OC pairing. Please review, PM me, any feedback or questions will be much appreciated.

Extensive update made: March 2018

Lou never went this close to the Narrows for apparent reasons. She didn't come from wealth or security, yet she had never felt more unsafe than she did at that moment. Every hesitant step she took seemed to take her closer to the edge of a cliff. She imagined Arkham would come tumbling over the bridge and empty out all the prisoners, leaving her to fend for her self. The respectable and wealthy had pushed the weak and helpless right to the edge of Gotham. As if the Narrows and its inhabitants were the dust left on an old carpet that was to be thrown out. It was primarily the human landfill of the city. Kids are growing up with a grim view of the high-security facility as if the Gotham elite was nudging them toward it, as a light suggestion. The occasional sound of raindrops hitting a puddle or the hood of a parked car added to the gloomy mood of the seemingly abandoned street. Maybe it was the silence that scared her the most, and it wasn't supposed to be so quiet as she knew it was far from safe. Scurrying more now towards the Narrows, a scream and thud erupted loudly in the streets making her gasp and jump to the side of a building. She pinched her arm and shakily puffed on a cigarette as she viewed the dangerous, dark streets that surrounded her. On the left corner of the street below her, she saw what appeared to be a laundromat. The only place on the block that had lights on as well. An old sign was barely hanging on to the spot above the entrance, like a souvenir from a more virtuous time. Though she knew such a time had never occurred; nobody had told her about it anyway. Digging into the pocket of her old denim jacket she fished out a crumpled note;

'Former laundromat, Lincoln Street. Easy to spot.'

She looked down at the note and backed up at the run-down building on the corner with a sigh. Well, fuck. It seems like this is the place.

She opened up the heavy door to the clinic, and it protested with a loud squeak. The smell stung in her nose and she squinted as her eyes adapted to the fluorescent lights. It smelled awful, the perfume of hand sanitizer and blood. Her boots squeaked against the cracked linoleum floors as she hesitantly took another step toward the reception. Looking around she saw what you'd expect at a free clinic in Gotham; homeless men and women with sporadic traces of blood on their clothes, high-strung junkies with barely any clothes on, their feet impatiently jumping up and down. It dawned on her that although she wasn't sporting blood or heroin cheekbones, she didn't stand out from the crowd to her left. She didn't want to be there and turned back at the door she'd entered through.

«Miss?! You need to sign this and sit down.» She spun around to the curly-haired receptionist who shook a paper in her direction. Apparently, she'd been trying to get her attention for a while.

«Uh- no, I'm not a...I'm here to see a friend.» She stuttered and took a step toward her as if she was scared anyone else might hear.

«If your friend isn't in the waiting room, I can't help you.» The receptionist impatiently raised her eyebrows. Her tone suggested she had to deal with disoriented and freaked out people on a daily basis.

Lou cleared her throat and took a step toward her. «No, she works here. Maggie-» The brunette leaned against the counter, exasperated. Again she questioned herself on why exactly she was there in the first place.

«Hey!» Lou turned and saw Maggie come running down the hall in her doctor scrubs, smiling. Her blonde ponytail was waving with her movements as she made her way over in quick steps. Of course, M was in a good mood, always a ray of fucking sunshine. She was such a contrast to her workplace. Everything she witnessed never left a mark on her features. Pessimistically perhaps, Lou couldn't help wonder when that would change. That's why Maggie's antics had always left her with a dull ache in her stomach. No one she had ever come across in that city had such a radiant joy of life; it seemed unnatural in a way. Maybe it was a mixture of jealousy and genuine worry. After knowing her for years, Lou knew it was more luck than the knowledge that kept Maggie's optimistic worldview intact. They were in many ways complete opposites, from their appearances to their philosophies. Much like sisters they fought and almost bickered continuously, but never left each other's sides for long. It wasn't surprising to Lou that Maggie had sought out this situation, starting a clinic in the most dangerous place in Gotham. It would be better if she had gotten a paying job, where her degree would be of use and her student loans would be paid off. Also, she wouldn't have to worry about being violently killed on her way to or from work. Well, more than anywhere else in Gotham.

There weren't even murder statistics in the Narrows as the police had no control over the area. Maggie argued that nowhere in Gotham was safe anyway, and she needed to help people where they were. The latter part was technically accurate, but Lou didn't understand the building blocks to Maggie's idealism. Had Maggie been ditsy and not a hard-working, smart woman, maybe Lou wouldn't be standing in that run-down, makeshift clinic with her. Despite their differences, Lou in her way couldn't help but believe in her. In Maggie as a person, as a friend, but not necessarily in her cause. Lou was merely there to help, not the patients, but her well-meaning friend. Maggie had always had that youthful sense of self-importance that got her through life with a smile. The philosophy that if you want something wrong enough it will happen because you're significant to the world. Lou found it laughable that that thought had made it into the mind of a working-class girl from Gotham and somehow survived a couple of decades. Chewing the side of her mouth, Lou felt worried; Maggie was like one of those wide-eyed people sent to a war-torn village somewhere to help the inhabitants but had no idea what she was in for. The reality of the situation might make or break her, that's the most optimistic thought Lou could conjure as she stood there, seeing the smile on her face. Maggie volunteered to stay there, despite knowing she'd be of use and paid better at an actual hospital. It was almost admirable if it wasn't so naive. Just from entering the clinic, Lou had added another reason for suicide on her list. Maggie, on the other hand, was an eternal idealist and it was infuriating.

«Come on, slowpoke!» Maggie waved her over and took a step down the hall.

«Did you just call me a Pokemon?» she mumbled and scurried over to her.

«Jesus Christ, you reek of cigarettes.» Maggie grimaced when Lou came up to her side. She started walking back the way she came and waved again, wanting Lou to follow.

«Thank you for doing this. I know I'm pretty much forcing you to do free labor, but the more hands we can get the better. We'll get you some scrubs, and I'll teach you the basics.» She winked at her, and they walked down the hall, Lou trying to keep up. Maggie was humming some improvised melody as she walked, again underlining the contrast of herself and her surroundings. It was near sociopathic in a way.

Picking up her pace to catch up with her, Lou mumbled.
«The basics being what exactly?» She was starting to feel like a surly teenager. They were the same age, but to spectators, Maggie must've looked like her legal guardian.

«Let's start with stitches.» Maggie turned and smiled as she opened the door behind her and stepped in. There was a cot next to a large sink, and there were boxes upon boxes with what she assumed were medical supplies. It looked like something you'd see in a field hospital; she expected to see young men in uniform being carried down the hall. In every sense though, it was a field hospital. She felt a dull sadness creep into her chest. It shouldn't be necessary in a first world country to have to go this these lengths to merely make sure people were getting the medical treatment they needed. Maggie's plan as naive as it was, could entirely be understood and her desire to help, justified. She couldn't help but smirk at the thought that she was living in a first world country, you'd think they would have been officially downgraded by now. Lou stepped in, dropped her bag and shook off her jacket.

Stopping by the sink with a sigh she shook her head and turned to Maggie;
«I'm not certified or cut out for this. Shouldn't you get some of your medical school buddies to tag along?»

«They weren't too keen.» she shrugged.

Lou couldn't hold back her laugh. «Why not? Throw away a promising career for a lost cause?»

A huff escaped the blonde. «If it's a lost cause what are you doing here?» Maggie crossed her arms with a smirk as she leaned against the wall. Lou held back the number of sarcastic replies that lined up in her head and drew a breath.

To see if you can get your shit together and drop the Mother Teresa fantasy.

«Cause you're not a lost cause, you've just got a thing for 'em.» Lou pointed at her with a tight smile.

Shaking her head with a chuckle, Maggie opened one of the cupboards;

«That's sweet, warms my heart,» she said and reached up to get something off the top shelf. A short knock on the door diverted their attention. A tall, blonde man who seemed to be in his early to mid-thirties in the same blue scrubs as Maggie stood in the doorway with a doctors journal and a tired smile on his face. In his right hand, he held a sizeable take-away cup of coffee. Being one of the three actual doctors at the clinic, he probably needed it. Could this be the doctor she had raved about?

Maggie bounced on her feet and waved him in. «Oh, perfect timing!»

The man stepped in, and Maggie walked to stand between Lou and the doctor.
«Lou, this is Martin. One of the two doctors I manage to persuade to come work with us.»

Martin extended his hand with a friendly smile and Lou shook it with a nod.

Maggie turned to her with a sarcastic smile and added; «Or, as you'd put it, one of the poor souls I persuaded to throw their careers away for a lost cause.»

The attractive doctor folded his arms and raised his brows in an exaggerated manner with a humorous chuckle. «Ouch! Tell us how you feel.»

Maggie let out a heartfelt laugh and threw her head back. Lou threw her hands up in defense. «Okay, okay! At least I'm here, that counts for something.»

Martin nodded with another warm smile. «Absolutely, and we're thankful.» he looked over at Maggie with a playful look as if to say 'Be nice.'

Looking back at Lou he continued. «I've heard a lot about you; it's good to meet you finally. To say you're needed here is an understatement.»

Maggie nodded furiously. «Yeah, we need as many hands as we can get. If you want we can get you certified real soon-»

Letting out a small laugh, Lou put her hands up again. «You don't have to pitch it to me; I'm already here.»

«I think you've worn her out, Mags.» The other blonde doctor couldn't help but suppress a giggle at the silly nickname. Lou had known Maggie for a while, she knew her family even but had never heard anyone call her Mags. As if Margaret wasn't outdated enough. Looking down at his watch he straightened immediately.

«I'd love to stand here and chat, ladies, but rush hour is about to hit.» he sighed and gestured out to the hallway. After downing what was left of his coffee, he disappeared into the clinic.

Lou turned to Maggie with a smirk. «Mags?»

She sighed at the insinuation. «It's a nickname, settle down.»

«If I called you that I think you'd slap me.»

«Yeah, so don't push it.» she smiled and walked over to the drawers changing the subject.

«By the way, you'll never guess who's coming by later.» Turning around she handed Lou some blue scrubs with a smile that was almost childlike with excitement. What on earth was there to be so excited about in a place like that?

Rolling her eyes, she took the blue fabric and removed her hoodie.
«Batman?» Lou let out a little chuckle as she put the scrubs on.

«Uh-uh, Bruce Wayne.» She answered, adding pressure to each syllable. As if an alarm had gone off in her head Lou turned to her with a confused frown and Maggie nodded while mouthing 'oh yeah.'

She stopped for a second, not understanding what was being said. «Uh, why-what? For a date or-?» Lou asked confused.

Maggie snorted. «Are you kidding? That's your first assumption?»

Lou raised her brows and huffed. «Christ, don't take it personally. The fact that he's coming here on his own accord is unlikely enough.»

Maggie sighed and pushed her bangs out of her face. «Yeah, we talked on the phone, and he said he'd like to take a look at the place. That's it.»

Take a look at the place? What would the hell there be for Bruce 'Filthy Rich' Wayne to look at in this part of town? The establishment was not only run-down and filled to the brim with lowly criminals, but it wasn't even legal. This is not something Wayne would like to have on his resume; she knew that much.

«Maybe he's gonna demolish it and put up a hotel or a fancy restaurant. This part of town could use some glamour.» She mumbled as she thoroughly washed her hands.

Maggie let out a loud fake laugh.
«You're just a big ball of fun.» She smiled sarcastically as she walked out the door and two doors down to check on her patients.

Lou was almost done stitching up her third patient of the night when the low chatter from the waiting room and reception ended abruptly. Maggie had been pacing around the place for the past fifteen minutes, nervously twisting her fingers and muttering to herself. The urge to grab her and tell her to pull her shit together left Lou sitting hunched over her patient with a clenched jaw. Lifting her eyes to see Maggie she immediately looked over at her with big eyes, smiling as she jumped up from her chair and just about bounced out of the room. Lou put her head down and continued with the stitches with a sigh and shook her head. Here we go.
Wayne was most likely there to see if it was a decent place to shove some rich-guilt money at and then go back to his mansion to sleep like a baby. What other reason could there be as he didn't want to buy the place? Maggie didn't seem worried about how this whole operation was in fact illegal. Those things had a way of working themselves out, at least, so Maggie thought. How was she going to pitch this illicit clinic to the richest and famous man in Gotham? This is apparently a man who cares about his reputation, what would happen if he became tied to that place? In fairness, he had probably thought about it more than she had. Wayne may be many things, but she didn't take him for an idiot. The whole situation gave her a headache, and she cracked her neck before looking back down and the half-done stitching on her patient's arm. Lou had gotten stitches before but had no idea they were so hard to do. She figured it would be like stitching up a tear in her coat, and now she found it laughable how easy she had expected it to be. The precision needed to let it heal into an okay-looking scar was a skill she had yet to obtain. Looking up at the barely conscious homeless man in the chair, he seemed to be happy merely to have a roof over his head for a few hours. She doubted he would care if the scar looked like shit and it most likely would.

A strained but familiar voice interrupted her thoughts, and she lifted her eyes up to see a grinning and nervous Maggie walk in with a tall and very well-dressed man. A man who needed no introduction.

«Here's Louisa, this is her first shift, and she's doing a marvelous job.» She looked over to see Maggie waving her arm over the unimpressive room and smiling like a pageant queen, clearly nervous next to Bruce Wayne himself. Lou clenched her jaw to keep her from laughing, though the man himself seemed unaffected. He calmly observed the room with the occasional small nod and his hands behind his back like an old-timey gentleman.

Maggie would have to tone that down if they were hoping to get any money out of this, assuming that's why he was there. With his dark features and stoic look, he stood there more than a head taller than her. Lou suppressed a smile; there was no wonder Maggie was so smitten. No wonder all the women of Gotham were smitten. Seeing him in magazines, newspapers and on TV was something, but seeing him stand there was something else. Clearly. Every other man in this town with that much money weren't just unattractive, but they were unattractive scumbags. Not that Lou had much more nice things to say about the guy, but if he was a complete scumbag he was hiding it well. A party boy, perhaps, but at least he appeared to do what he could. No money laundering or political scandal yet, anyway. Bruce Wayne was standing broad shouldered next to Maggie with an interested look on his face when she spoke. Y'know the way you look at someone when you either have no idea what they're saying, or you're pretending you haven't heard it before. As apparent as it was to her, Maggie had yet to see through it.

Lou cleared her throat and nodded when Wayne turned to look at her in the same manner he had just scanned the room.
«Nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne. Forgive the lack of a handshake, but..» She gestured to her bloody gloves and her patient who didn't look much better. His demeanor didn't change, not even slightly. Lou couldn't help but roll her chair back from the patient with a poorly suppressed smirk.

In fact, it was a little comical to her how much they desperately needed the funding, how apparent they lacked the funding and now Bruce Wayne was standing there. The multi-millionaire playboy himself, so ridiculously overdressed. She looked at his shoes, real fancy ones too. Even the shoes were screaming that they were too expensive to tread the floor of this place. The contrast of him and his current surroundings were more than mildly hilarious, in a way like Maggie. She desperately wanted to cut the crap and be honest about the situation. The state of the clinic was the elephant in the room, anybody with functioning eyesight could tell it was terrible. She had to stifle another laugh.

«Oh, that's fine.» He nodded with a tight smile. «I have to say; this is a great initiative. I wasn't sure about the location, but I see it's needed.» He looked around the room and didn't seem as unimpressed as Lou had been when she first walked into the clinic. Though it appeared this wasn't a man who was open and expressive.

«Exactly.» Maggie nodded with her hands clasped in front of her. «Our patients are people who have nowhere else to go, not just because they don't have insurance, but no hospital will take them.»

Wayne nodded, listening to her intently. Lou kept her eyes on him as if blatantly staring at him would unveil the person behind the stoic facade. Maggie opened her mouth to continue, probably wanting to pitch her ideas, but once again he spoke first.

«It's a promising endeavor, Miss Marston. Your professors speak highly of you, I have no doubt you'll make a difference here.»

That's when Lou looked over at Maggie who didn't merely smile; she grinned like a child. This is a girl who lived for recognition and not just the academic kind. The compliment seemed to put her in a state of elated embarrassment.
«Yeah! It's ambitious, but I have to try. Not to say I wasn't advised against it, but I didn't grow up with wealth and me- I'm not saying you, well you did, but-»

Mr. Wayne, ever the gentleman pretended not to notice how flushed the girl who stood next to him was as she rambled. He was kind enough to interrupt though. «Doctor Cavalieri especially sends his regards. He said he would love to visit but would prefer it if you'd stop by at the university instead. I suspect he doesn't commute down here very often.» he turned to Maggie with a reassuring smile.

«We all have our comfort zones, I guess.» she smiled tightly and stared up at the man Lou was starting to feel sorry for. Yeah, and you're way out of your own.

Once again he had to save the conversation and abruptly changed the subject. Lou was starting to hurt at the awkwardness psychically.
«Are you having problems with break-ins?» He looked at them both.

«Well, not, well there's-»Maggie's face went red as she stuttered and looked around as if an answer would come to her.

«I just saw the door.» He nodded back towards the entrance. The locks had been changed so many times, and thieves had pried the doors open at least three times a week according to Maggie. At this point, the door was barely hanging on to its hinges. Of course, they had problems with break-ins, it's a neighborhood issue. It's a city issue.

Lou cleared her throat and turned her chair in their direction. «There are regular break-ins. Mostly in the front, but some at the back entrance, that's where all the supplies are kept. We've replaced and added more locks in the front, but it doesn't do much. It would help to have proper doors installed, if not we'll lose the few supplies we do have.» she gave Maggie a quick look as to say 'you're welcome'.

Wayne nodded again.
«I'll have someone come by and replace the doors tomorrow morning. If you could give me an inventory list, I could see what you have and add to it.» Easy-peasy.

There was an awkward pause, and Lou looked back at Maggie with the hope she'd pull it together and get the inventory list. When Maggie finally looked back, she snapped out of it and excused herself. Lou was left there with an unconscious patient and Bruce Wayne, who seemed utterly unaffected. She was stuck somewhere between numbness and bursting out laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Again he was kind enough to break the silence, though he seemed to be the least uncomfortable out of the two. Well, three.
«Ms. Marston has my contact info if there is anything else you might need. I'll set up a monthly plan once I get an overview of the inventory.»

«Yeah, thank you. Maggie will be over the moon.» she smiled back at him with a small nod.

«You've worked together for long?» the question surprised her a little, he didn't seem to be big on small talk.

She couldn't help but let out a small laugh. «No, we met in high school, and somehow she convinced me to help her out here.»

He seemed to relax slightly and dropped the highly formal speech. «Everyone working here have jobs on the side, I assume?»

She leaned back in the chair and let out a breath.
«Yup, everyone except Maggie. Our receptionist is a middle school teacher, most of the nurses have jobs at the hospitals, the doctors too.» She felt strange talking about the place as if she'd been there for a long time; she had barely even said hello to the others.

«What about you?» he asked, and she looked up at him to see his face had softened somewhat. This guy was hard to pin down.

«Gotham Library. I mostly work in the archives.»

«It must be quite the contrast to this place.» he smiled.

She nodded. «Yeah, there's a lot fewer people and a lot less blood.»

He gave her a friendly smile. «I can imagine.»

After a moment of silence, she felt the need to speak. She didn't know why exactly, Wayne had already made it clear he would help them and didn't need more convincing. Despite that, she felt a need to let him know how sincere the people who worked there were about the place. Maybe help him understand that the money would be of use, to put it mildly. The significant difference between her and the well-dressed man in front of her was money, and she felt as though she had to translate the situation for him.

Breaking the silence, she spoke in a severe tone;
«I may not share her idealism, Mr. Wayne but Maggie's trying to do some good in a bad city. I'm just here to see she doesn't get hurt.»

His gaze rested on her in a curious, yet understanding manner. «I understand. What you're doing is admirable.» to her surprise he seemed genuine, and the stoic facade had faded for just a minute.

He seemed to hesitate and took a small step closer. «I meant what I said, if you need anything, let me know. Whether it issues with security or more plastic gloves.» Lou looked up at his reassuring smile and nodded back. With that, Maggie came jogging into the room to hand Wayne the inventory list.

«There you go.» she smiled, clearly relieved now that she knew we'd at least have funding. The broad-shouldered billionaire took the list and gave it a quick look over before shaking Maggie's hand, thanking them for their time and excusing himself. The two girls watched him walk out silently.

As the sliding doors movements slowed, Maggie and Lou stared at each other wordlessly in the now hushed room.

«That was fucking weir-» Lou chuckled wiping a strand of dark hair from her face as Maggie let out what can only be described as a roar of relief.

«We're getting money! He's giving us money! Oh my god.» Like the air went out of her Maggie sank to the floor on her knees in a praying position as a light laugh of relief rippled through her.

Lou felt glad for her, knowing they'd never be self-funded it was vital they had someone with means on their team. In a strange turn of events, they now and the funding they needed. She hadn't had many opinions regarding Bruce Wayne before meeting him. It didn't feel unfair to assume he'd be a stuck up kid living off his parent's money; the papers were more than happy to strengthen that assumption. He had surprised her; she could see there was a person in there behind the professionalism and formalities. It was a pleasant surprise, people with old money were usually more reluctant to share it. Their hard-earned money, and all.

It was her fourth-month volunteering at the clinic. She didn't expect to like it assuming it was a tedious job, but it did more than just keep her busy five or more hours each night. Lou felt more comfortable, more confident. Most likely cause she knew what she was doing at this point. Or she knew the basics.
The problem of funding was constant. After three checks from Mr. Wayne, he never contacted them again. Lou assumed he was neck deep in supermodels and couldn't care less, though she couldn't help but feel disappointed especially on behalf of Maggie. She was more affected by it, understandably. She wondered if Maggie had even tried to call Wayne's assistant again to ask what was up, but after the first weeks, she saw Maggie's hopes wither. No one with money would waste it on a free clinic anywhere in Gotham, certainly not south of uptown. Mostly because they didn't need free clinics uptown.
The police came by once a night usually, asking questions about patients. She hadn't expected to see them at all, but a couple of months earlier it seemed they grow the balls to ride down there and hang around the place like bored teenagers. Sleazy pigs who liked to hang around for a few hours just to steal some painkillers and make not such discreet advances at the female staff. She never gave them information about the patients, even though she felt she'd be justified in doing so. Several of their patients weren't merely homeless collateral damage.

As she was standing there thinking about just that, a man came crashing through the doors with blood oozing out the side of his face, screaming for help. Or gurgling more like it. It was evident from his clothes that he was in the mafia. No one else would wear those ridiculous suits. She had half a thought of leaving him outside. Mobsters tended to use them as their private hospital, which meant actual patients stayed away. More deserving patients, you might say. They'd come into the clinic bleeding from stab or gunshot wounds and bribe them off so they wouldn't tell the police, the ones that weren't crooked. She assumed the mafia was more scared of their competition than the police. That was the whole point if they went to the public hospitals the authorities would be notified. Lou assumed the mob had their doctors for these kinds of situations. Maybe they were too pricey, and it was cheaper to throw some cash at them instead. In the beginning, she didn't take the bribes and would tell the police whenever they stopped by, like a good girl. The police officers shockingly turned out to be crooked and left her with a few bruises. So much for optimism.
That created another problem as it was a clinic and not a hospital, they only had three doctors on staff, and more often than not, the nurses were left to fend for themselves. The first gunshot patient she got was on a relatively quiet night when including the receptionist Debbie; they were only three people at work. The other nurse was in a corner on her phone in a panic, googling how to treat a gunshot wound as the mobster lay groaning in pain on the table. Lou, though the least experienced the lot, at least had one talent; staying calm during stressful situations. If she were by herself, she would have lost her shit, but having another nurse in the room who was worse off than she helped. In the same way, if you're surrounded by resolute people, you end up doing the thing, but you would never have been the first one to volunteer usually.
Lou and the other nurse managed to save the mans life on pure improvisation. The other nurse had called her Doctor MacGyver, and they laughed as if to cover up the fear that had they not saved the mobster's life, they might have lost theirs.

«Louisa!» Someone shouted and snapped her out of it. She had been staring at the growing pool of blood around the mobster's chubby body. They were short on staff like most nights and Maggie was nowhere to be found. She yelled for someone to call Maggie again and had no choice but to get the man into one of the stalls they had set up and assess the damage. His face was bleeding so fast she couldn't find the wound. He was gurgling and trying to say something about his broken leg.

«We need to sit him up, he'll choke on the blood,» she told the other two wide-eyed helpers as she bent down to put her arms around him, pulling him up from the floor.

After removing his suit jacket and shirt, they saw his damages were limited to the broken leg and the facial wound. Bandages were immediately put on the what they assumed to be the source of the bleeding. This caused him to push against them and wheeze in pain, kicking one of his shoes off in the struggle. His tongue was still intact, another theory to rule out. She carefully removed the bandages on his face and realized his left cheek had been cut through completely. The other two slowly withdrew their hands at the sight and had it not been for the wheezing of the bleeding man; you'd hear a pin drop. She clenched her jaw at the view; she had lost count over how many of those cuts she had stitched up. The mob was under attacked and had been for months. It started with all kinds of injuries until the bleeding smirk became the signature of whoever they had pissed off. Now they were left with the responsibility, and on the mob's eyes, because they were paying us, we were under contract to save each member of their syndicate were they to be brought in.

«Hey, hey! This needs to be stitched. We need a blood transfusion and more bandages.» She looked at the two of them as they scurried off. «And get a hold of Martin!» she shouted after them as the wriggling man kept wriggling.

The man tried to talk, but it came out more of a gurgled whisper. He was in so much pain it looked like he was suffocating, though she knew he wasn't.

«I need you not to talk. You're only making it bleed more, and you might have some muscle damage. I need to stitch it up right away.» She looked at him and spoke with volume. The man struggled as he tried to sit up more and in vain she tried to hold him in a sitting position by pushing his shoulders back.

When she met his deep brown eyes they shone with malice and a big part of her was considering letting him bleed out right there in front of her. She had nothing leftover for the scumbags she had to stitch up every night.

«Don't fuck it up.» He spoke with a rough tone, glared back at her with big eyes and before she could react he spat, and on instinct she closed her eyes, feeling her face wet. Splattering blood over her face and torso, he sat back with a weak, pathetic laugh. Having to wipe her face before she could open her eyes, she wanted nothing more than to have the homeless people in the waiting room rub their hands in his wound before she threw him out on the street where he would die slowly of an infection. The fantasy alone was just enough to calm her. Only just.

A good while later, her back and neck ached as she hunched over the man doing the stitches for the second time cause he jumped off the table and tried to hit her, making the stitches rip. She also knew she had to be as thorough and exact as possible, knowing how vain these murderous dickheads were. And that specific dickhead was making in very, very difficult. She couldn't help but understand the motivation of whoever did this to him in the first place.

She was close to bludgeoning him herself.

«This is the last fucking time I'm doing this, you hear? If you fuck this up, I'm sending you home with a stapler.» She glared down at him, and he nodded with a huff.

The whole place was silent as the grave except for the two of them. Lou was feeling as though she was diffusing a bomb, and all the other staff had left as if to save themselves from the blast. She was lucky they had helped her casting his leg, as they bolted as soon as they were done. Not that she could blame them. With a sigh, she pulled the chair closer and started once more with the stitches. The skin was severely damaged, not just from him ripping the stitches. Around the cut, it looked like a torn plastic bag, almost like a burn but not quite. She did the best she could, but it wasn't easy. A good portion of skin had to be cut off, and she feared the scar would stretch the left side of his face. If she didn't know better, she'd say it looked more torn than cut. It wasn't hard to tell that it would scar badly. Fuck.
Rolling back her chair, the wheel got caught in something, and she turns her head down to see what it was. She frowned as she saw the red pattern of what looked like a playing card. Maybe he'd been attacked while playing poker? Bending over she picked it up and turned it curiously. That old-timey design of a jester, shuffling cards while dancing with those weird shoes. She had always liked that card, despite it being the card they had continually left out when playing.
So why would he have it on him? When she looked up from the card, the mobster was staring, no, glaring at her from his spot. It appeared to be a touchy subject.

Turning the card to him with a deadpan expression; «This yours?»

If looks could kill, she thought as he looked back at her. The man looked at her with a silent fury as if she was mocking him. She was, a little.

Shrugging she got up from the chair, left the blood splattered card on the table by the even bloodier equipment.

«Alright. All done.» the blood-splattered nurse removed her gloves with a sharp exhale and looked back at her patient. The small man didn't look so good, but at least he got the last of their morphine. She assumed there wouldn't be any left after the cops stopped by earlier that night, so she hid the rest. At least the police hadn't gone so far as to search the staff.

She sighed and looked right at the mess of a man on the table in front of her.
«You're going to have to disinfect that twice a day and-» a nasal voice with a thick accent interrupted her.

«Yeah, yeah, lady. Ya think this the first time he's had a booboo?» a voice laughed arrogantly.

She looked over to see some younger and taller version of the man she'd stitched up with the same 1940's gangster look, standing by the entrance impatiently. With the hat, he was wearing it looked like he was a member of an a capella group that traveled around doing their take on Sinatra songs. She wondered how the hell were they ever taken seriously looking like that. Maybe that's why someone started attacking them. Then again, the Batman looked ridiculous, and most were terrified of him. A grown man. Dressed as a giant bat. With abs.

«Come on, uncle. Let's get you home.» Pushing Lou out of the way he went over and grabbed his uncle. He had to pretty much carry him, cause his uncle not only had a broken leg with a fresh cast but a lot of morphine going through his system. She looked at the pair with a clenched jaw. Embarrassed and livid that she was spending her free time helping high-class criminals live to see another day and watching them walk away as arrogant as always. They made out a large percentage of those who squeeze every cent out of the poor so they can add more to their fortune. There she was, taking care of them.

There was no stopping herself when she felt the annoyance and revulsion make it's way up her throat.

«Make sure he disinfects the 'booboo,' or he'll die of an infection,» she added calmly as the two mobsters moved their way toward the exit. The familiar drawn-out silence that followed carried with it a small voice sucking its teeth, saying; I told you so. Like lightning, she was thrown down to the blood-specked floor with a hand around her throat. She tried to gasp at the impact, but couldn't.

«Who the fuck are you, huh?!» The young mobsters spat, his face inches from hers. His grip on her throat tightening, clawing at his arms in vain she felt her legs kick on the floor desperately.

«You making threats, nurse!? You have no idea who you're fucking with.» With that, a clenched fist closed in on her face and in a split second, she was out.