Note: Hello again folks! Thanks for the feedback and the interest, here goes! I have changed the style a little bit. The first part of each story will be told in 3rd person from the POV of one of the Watchmen (I daresay probably Dan as he's usually the one to call the doc…) and will detail the circumstances leading to them needing the doctor. The second part will be told from the doctor's POV in the same style as before, and will show the interaction whilst s/he is patching them up.

Note 2: If this one seems familiar, it is because it is the same incident as the first chapter, but expanded. I apologise for the repetition but I feel that the story of their first meeting needs to be done proper justice. And I'd just like to say that my medical knowledge comes from my penpal and the Internet. If any doctors read this and cringe, please advise!!

An Outsider Looking In

The Comedian

It didn't matter how calmly he tried to handle the situation, it always ended up being a bloodbath, thought Dan as he jumped from the airship, sighing inwardly at having to break up, or attempt to break up at least, another fight to the death that had begun between his comrades and the criminals they'd been following. He didn't know whose idea it had been to bring together two of the most bloody-minded and morally ambiguous vigilantes in the same team, but one could always guarantee that when Rorschach and the Comedian were on the hunt together, the body count would be significantly higher than usual.

There had been five of them in a group, all slimy, leering individuals, bedecked in greasy black leather and chains, cat-calling the women who hurried past them on the street. For a while they hadn't needed to do anything, they just sat waiting in Archie, the lights and engines off. All too soon however, the alcohol that could be smelt a mile away had taken its toll. The jeering and crude suggestions had turned to grabbing and groping, and one woman wasn't quick enough to escape their grasping clutches. Scared and disorientated by the goosing, she had turned around the nearest corner, only to find herself trapped.

And that was when it had all kicked off once again. Dan could see a pattern in each of their escapades, and this particular one was proving to be no different. A previously tense situation would become dangerous, and then Eddie would rush in all guns blazing in the most literal sense of the words. Rorschach, incensed by what he was seeing and the scum they were dealing with, would want in on the fight and then it would be up to everyone else to try and defuse it, and to perform the necessary damage limitation afterwards. More often than not, this task fell to Dan, and he was getting tired of it.

He entered the alleyway to find, with a sinking heart, that his suspicions were confirmed. Neither of his comrades was given to reasonable conversation, both dancing to the tune of 'pull apart first, ask questions of the pieces later'. Was it any wonder that the politicians were thinking of outlawing them?

One of the attackers was dead already, the scarlet pooling under his mangled body, torn and twisted limbs revealing several broken bones. That would have been Rorschach's doing, no doubt of that. Another was almost there, riddled with bullet holes. The remaining three were putting up quite a fight considering, but Dan knew that it wouldn't be long before they realised that it was a hopeless struggle and they turned tail, only to be followed to the bitter end... He looked around for the young woman, finally spotting her cowering in a boarded up doorway, watching the action in horror, a pattern of red spots over her face and chest suggesting that she had been a little too close when she had been 'saved' from her assailant.

"Glad you could join us!" said Eddie as he saw Dan moving into the melee, although he stopped grinning like the Cheshire cat when he realised that he was out of ammunition. "Fuck, I knew I'd left something behind." Dan ducked as Eddie tossed the gun aside, making his way towards the woman. He held out a hand to help her up but she shrank away instead. He smiled reassuringly, despite the sinking feeling inside. How could they be heroes if the people they helped were as scared of their saviours as they were of their attackers? She uttered a muted scream as he moved towards her again, and Dan frowned, but then he realised that she was not looking at him, but rather over his shoulder. He turned and saw the knife first, the person wielding it second, but only for a split second before a flash of black had bowled the would-be assassin out of the way.

Dan made a mental note to thank Adrian after they'd sorted the mess out. The woman accepted his hand more readily now and he pulled her up, running her out of the alley enveloped in his cape. He would have liked to have stayed with her, made sure she was safe and wouldn't be too shaken by her ordeal, but an increase in the noise from behind him made him rush back without imparting the words of comfort he would have liked to. He had recognised the roar of pain, and sure enough, when he arrived back at their grimy battlefield, Eddie was on the ground in the midst of the bodies, clutching his leg. Adrian was trying to assess the damage, and Rorschach was nowhere to be found. Dan quickly counted the bodies and came to the sickening realisation that they were one short. There was a sharp scream from a few blocks away, one that quickly faded into gurgling.

"What happened?" he asked, bending down and grimacing at the sight of blood and bones at odd angles.

"The bastard dislocated my fucking knee, that's what happened," said Eddie thickly through his unlit cigar. Dan rolled his eyes heavenwards in despair and turned to Adrian.

"Can we do anything?"

"Short of dragging him to ER? No, not really."

Dan groaned as he stood again.

"You know, if you just listened and didn't go off like this then you wouldn't be in this position!" he exclaimed, before something pale caught his eye, moving in the shadows. He ignored the profanity he received by way of reply and instead felt his heart soar as the white shape moved forward into the light towards them.

Of all the miracles that could have happened at that moment…

They'd found a doctor.

What on Earth did I think I was doing? I had just listened to these men kill five people, however despicable, and now I was calmly walking into their domain, intending to help. It wasn't the moral irony of the situation that astounded me, more the participants in it. I couldn't get my head round it; I couldn't make myself accept what was going on. I had just witnessed the Watchmen fight their foes and now I was going to fix the dislocated knee of the Comedian for God's sake.

I was surprised that they let me through. I would have thought that I wouldn't be allowed into their world, but then again, I daresay they'd prefer this option to the idea of going to a hospital and trying to explain themselves. I put my bag down on the ground and opened it, trying to focus on the task at hand. I was a doctor, I was doing my job, aiding the injured. I tried not to think of the circumstances that I happened to be doing my job in.

"What's up Doc?" my patient joked as I finished my initial examination and prepared a shot of morphine.

"Like you said," I replied, looking at the needle instead of his face. "He dislocated your knee. Badly."

Badly was an understatement. The bone was pressing against the skin, nearly coming through. There was nothing for it. I would simply have to push it back in.

"Right," I began, pushing up my sleeves. "This is going to hurt."

He laughed.

"What's new? This is funny. Isn't this funny? We're the amazing, infallible Watchmen, and here we are, having to get patched up by the doc after one escapade too many. Who are you? What the fuck are you doing here anyw.. FUCK!" He roared as I wrenched the bone back into place, the pain searing even through the morphine. I gritted my teeth and continued my work, bandaging the knee tightly to prevent my work being undone before moving away.

"You can stand up now, but it'll be painful. You'll have to keep that leg immobile for at least a fortnight." I began to pack up as he got off the floor gingerly and staggered.

"Thanks," he muttered, retrieving the cigar and lighting it, leaning up against the wall to watch me close my bag again and turn away, ready to go home and pretend that this strange incident had never happened. My intervention had been unwanted, unwarranted, and it would not be repeated.

"Wait." I turned back. Night Owl came forward a few steps. I'd almost forgotten that the others were there. "Thank you." The grateful tone in his voice was truly genuine.

I don't know what madness came over me and made me draw a card out of coat pocket and hand it over. I didn't think that I would ever know.

"If you ever need me, call."

I let myself look back once as I walked away. They were staring at the phone number on the card, thoughts unreadable.

I had almost forgotten the incident, although I knew I wasn't ever going to let such an extraordinary experience go completely when, one evening, watching politicians on the news warring over whether they should pass the Keene Bill, the phone rang.

"Hello?"

I recognised Night Owl's voice immediately.

"Doctor, we need you."

Note 3: Well, there it was: the first of the individual stories. I hope you liked it, and the next one will be better because there won't be any recycling!

Please leave a comment but as usual please be constructive.

I've had ideas for all of them (even Dr M) except Adrian, who is proving to be rather difficult, especially since I want the injuries to be different each time.