As much as she would like to claim the opposite, Clover had never been a very compassionate person. Not to say that she didn't empathize with others or attempt to help them on occasion, but that type of attitude just wasn't her predisposition. She often saw injustice in the world, but couldn't find the means or motivation to try to correct it. Clover had always believed that it was simply easier to survive what life threw at her than to fight back, and she supposed this philosophy might've transferred into how she viewed other's troubles as well. Most of the time, helping them seemed pointless. People were endless coils, a snake eating its own tail and constantly dragging themselves back into trouble. They wouldn't stay helped for long. She didn't know if seeing things this way made her a bad person, and frankly hadn't given it much thought since she graduated high school and had much less time to think about it.
She could vividly remember the first time someone had asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up. Like all the other kids in her kindergarten class, she had answered something very whimsical. Back then, she had wanted to be a painter. When asked why, she could only respond that she, "liked the pretty colors." She'd be asked again later in third grade and would respond with singer because she liked to sing. Over the years, the same question would be asked over and over again with varying answers. And though the answer would change, her reasoning for it remained consistent. Clover would choose a career based on what she enjoyed doing.
But things change when you get older. Suddenly things become less about what you want to do, and more about what you can do to benefit society. In ninth grade, Clover had answered the age old question by saying she wanted to be a doctor. The general response was usually something along the lines of, "Oh, you'll be able to help so many people!" or, "You must really like helping people." The truth was, Clover didn't think much about helping people. She just liked studying the human body, and if helping others happened to be a side effect of that, great.
Clover supposed her whole job ordeal summed up her opinion on helping others pretty well. While it was a wonderful concept and could ease your mind of guilt, she was sad to say she'd always be primarily self focused. However, seeing a sick little girl on the side of the street had just been too much to turn a blind eye to. Helping Bailey with her wounds had felt like the right thing to do, but it was increasingly becoming apparent to Clover that it might've opened up a whole other world of trouble for her.
Lee had promised Clover a chance to come to this clinic and continue her study of biology, but the longer they walked the more she regretted believing her promise. Lee could be leading her anywhere, and although she seemed trustworthy, so did many sketchy people living here. Maybe it was something in the water?
The two had made idle chit chat during their walk, mostly Lee trying to make things less tense, but they regressed into silence as they approached their destination.
From the outside look of the building, Clover would've thought that Lee had lead her to some sort of bar. The front was covered in worn red bricks, and it looked be only a few steps ahead of dilapidated. Most bars in the area had the same look, but usually had some sort of sign to indicate they were open for business and not abandoned. There was no flashing neon sign on the outside, but Clover could hear the cheers and whistles coming on the inside from across the street. Whatever the place was, it didn't seem a very appropriate place for the sick.
Clover shot Lee an apprehensive look, which Lee ignored, pressing forward confidently.
Clover jogged a little bit to catch up, but decided to speak her mind.
"Where exactly are you taking me? This doesn't look like a clinic."
Lee smiled a little. "The clinic is below this building. It was the only place I could get. There isn't much empty property in the Narrows that doesn't have its share of problems."
Clover supposed she could accept that excuse, but didn't have much time to think over it further as the two stepped through the entrance. The inside was packed wall to wall with people, jeering and shouting as they pressed together. Clover's nose wrinkled as the odor of human sweat and smoke filled her lungs. They seemed to all be crowded around some sort of elevated platform in the middle, but it was hard to see over the heads of the crowd. Clover's eyes flitted to a bar in the corner. It seemed her prediction about the building had been simultaneously right and wrong. It was clearly a bar, but housed patrons a bit more unique than the general Narrows scum.
Clover turned her head away from the spectacle as Lee grabbed her lower bicep, leading her away from the crowd. The noise lessened slightly as they entered a dark hallway to the side. Lee didn't remove her hand as they made their way down the hall, passing several tangled couples and a few junkies curled up on the floor. Clover couldn't help but avert her eyes as she heard a girl moan from her position against her boyfriend. Not something she wanted to hear, or see.
Lee eventually lead her to a staircase descending into a dark area below the floor. Clover likened it to the entrance of a dungeon, dank and dark. But her wariness didn't stop her from following Lee into the basement, figuring she'd already come this far.
Upon entering the basement, Clover was surprised to find that the noise upstairs was now only a muffled sound with the occasional thud hitting the ceiling. The lighting downstairs was dim, but a few streams of light made their way through the slats of a boarded up half window at the top of the wall. With this light, Clover could make out Lee walking ahead of her and the dozens of people waiting around the space.
They seemed to look normal at first, but Clover's perception changed as Lee flipped a switch and a flickering bulb illuminated them. They almost looked undead. Their skin had a pale pallor that rivaled printer paper, and they were gaunt like corpses. Their eyes had a redness around the corners, and a few of the older ones had a milky quality to their eyes that gave Clover chills. She had been around the sick before, but never any people this ill.
"If you'd just make a line outside the door, I'll see to you all momentarily." Lee said as she entered a side room.
Clover followed her in silently. The room was sparsely decorated with various doctor's office equipment. There was a scale in the corner, and examination table, a cabinet filled with medical supplies, and even a little twin bed resembling the type you might find in a nurses office. Despite how run-down it looked, it reminded Clover of visits to the pediatrician's for her annual wellness check. If only things were that simple now.
"So...what exactly would you like me to do Doc?" Clover asked as Lee busied herself with preparing the office.
Lee bent into a drawer, searching for something then turning around when she found it. She handed Clover a stethoscope then turned back around.
"I think you can start off examining the patients. Take their vitals, assess symptoms, then send them to me for treatment."
Clover nodded slowly. Basic work wasn't exactly what she'd like to be doing, but the familiarity of it was comforting enough. She'd interned at a doctor's office her freshman year of college, and they'd given her much similar work to do. Once upon a time she might've found it boring, but now she craved any sort of medical practice she could get.
The first patient that came in was a younger aged woman who looked considerably less ill than some of the other patients. The woman had come to the clinic because she was pregnant and couldn't afford to see a doctor. Unfortunately, there was nothing Clover could really do other than offer the woman tips on how to make the pregnancy run smoother and advise her to come in for checkups. Obstetrics had never really been Clover's forte, but as she turned her over to Lee the woman immediately knew exactly what to say.
From that point Clover dealt with a large array of patients. Some were afflicted with the common cold, some had broken bones, and some were suffering from remnants of the Tetch Virus. These patients were especially hard to tend to, because only their symptoms could really be relieved. Without access to the additional treatment provided by hospitals to those who hadn't been cured, it was almost impossible to stop the virus from deteriorating their health and mind. Clover could patch them up, but there was only so much a little clinic in the Narrows could do.
In a way, it reminded Clover of her father. Of course there were treatments for lung cancer, but they didn't help much if you lacked the money to pay. They could afford to keep up the chemo for now, but what would they do when the money ran out? It was depressing to think of how she was failing to help her father, so Clover instead focused on the patients in front of her.
It must've been hours that she stayed in the basement, patching wounds and treating people. As the last person exited, Clover thought she'd seen just about every case the Narrows had to offer. She let her body slump into a small wooden chair as Lee closed the door after the last patient. Lee leaned her body against the counter, looking even more exhausted than Clover. The two waited in silence, the roar from upstairs being the only sound.
"That was just… wow." Clover spoke finally, shaking her head in amazement.
Lee smirked. "I told you, this clinic is really making a difference. You really helped a lot of people tonight."
Clover stared vacantly at the human body diagram hanging in the corner of the room, mulling over Lee's words. She really had helped a lot of people. She wondered if this type of satisfaction came with being a full fledged doctor. The side of her that longed to spend her days in a lab was definitely satiated, but there was also an underlying happiness inside. Those people weren't cured, not at all, but they were happier. And that had to count for something, right?
But beyond the feeling of fulfillment Clover got from the clinic, she liked the purpose it gave her. Ever since she quit college, she'd felt aimless. She didn't have a job that intrigued her, and her home life was dreadful. Working here was hard, but it far surpassed the monotony of her everyday life. It had all been bearable before, but something had changed in her since that night at the Iceberg Lounge. She wasn't content to go through the motions anymore. Clover wanted more.
"So what are the hours in this place? How often are you open for business?" She asked casually.
"Well I try to be here as often as I can." Lee crossed her arms as she leaned further back into the counter. "Generally people get here whenever they're in need and I try to be here. Nothing's set in stone if I'm being honest."
Clover knew there was no way she could be running down here all the time, not while she was trying to earn a living. But after what she'd seen tonight, she was willing to sacrifice some of her time to come. It wasn't like she had too much else to do.
"I can't promise I'll be available on weekdays, but I can come in on weekends."
Lee smiled. "Well I need all the help I can get, so I'll take it.
Clover smiled, feeling for once that she had a place in Gotham. Like she wasn't just aimlessly drifting through her life trying to find something meaningful. Clover wouldn't lie to herself and say that she was motivated by some warm, fuzzy feeling inspired by helping others. She was spurred on by the feeling of purpose deep in her chest, and the surge of endorphins that she could remember accompanying the start of an interesting project.
Clover could tell that Lee understood her motivation, judging by the knowing look in her eyes. Maybe Lee had been the same at one point, young and passionate with a desire to push her own limits. Now Lee desperately wanted to help others, and Clover couldn't tell if that was indicative of Lee's passion for her work or compassion for others. Clover supposed it didn't matter if their motives aligned. It only mattered that she was back to doing what she loved.
Lee began to clean the workspace and Clover quickly followed, disposing of unwrapped gauze and sterilizing the equipment. All the needles, syringes, and other medical equipment were kept in sealed containers to keep them from their dirty environment. Clover was glad to see that even though they weren't providing top notch care, at least they were reaching sanitary standards. After a few minutes, a loud thumping was heard out in the hallway, then the sound of knuckles rapping on the door.
"We need you upstairs Doc, our champs needs attention." A woman's voice yelled before Clover heard the sound of her retreating.
Lee sighed, grabbing her first aid kit off the counter. She turned to Clover as she passed by.
"You can go home Clover, you've done great work today."
Clover trailed behind her quickly. "Are you sure you don't need help with this last patient? I'm not exactly in a rush."
It was true. For the past few weeks, Clover would rather be anywhere but home. The thought of being in the same room as her father made her anxious, even though she was supposed to care for him. And even when he wasn't home, the empty apartment was too dark and malignant for her liking. She often found herself staying out late in avoidance of going there.
Lee continued to press forward. "You can come help if you want, but I've got to warn you; he has a unique condition."
Clover was a little perplexed by this, but it didn't stop her from following Lee up the stairs. If anything, now she was even more determined to stay. What did Lee mean by "unique condition"?
As they made their way up to the first floor, Clover noticed two things. The first was that the area had cleared out immensely and she could actually see the entire room, and the second was the overwhelming stench of rot that had replaced the smell of sweat. Clover's eyes scanned the area, searching for the source. With her view now unobstructed, she could make out what resembled a fighting ring in the middle of the room. The area was contained by rubber chords, similar to a wrestling cage, and there was a body lying limp on the side. Clover slowly averted her eyes as a man with gloves wrapped his arms under the body's shoulders and dragged it away. The body's head hung limp, but Clover could see (and smell) drops of blood plopping down.
Clover's stomach churned in disgust as she realized she was smelling death. She should've been able to put it together earlier, but she just now realized this place was some sort of fight club. There was lots of these establishments in the Narrows, making money off the people's love of carnage. It was almost ironic that Lee's place of healing would reside below such a place of destruction. Clover quickly averted her eyes from the corpse as Lee lead her up another flight of stairs.
They made their way up to a balcony that overlooked the whole arena. There was a hallway further on the level lined with doors. Lee entered the second to last door on the right, Clover entering right behind her.
It was dim inside, but Clover could make out a hulking figure sitting on the desk in the middle of the room. Lee quickly flicked on a lamp, and Clover finally saw the mysterious patient with the unique condition.
If she believed in the undead, Clover would've immediately yelled "zombie". His skin was a pale green color reminiscent of a monster straight out of a classic thriller, and he had a shock of white hair that grotesquely complimented his unnatural skin. Even from across the room, Clover could smell him. He stank like he had just bathed in swamp water, and Clover couldn't help but wrinkle her nose. The smell of death and decay was something she experienced daily in the Narrows, but this man was something entirely different. Everything about him was grim, including the dead look in his eyes.
If Lee took offense to any of his traits, she didn't show it. She simply approached him, setting the first aid kit down along with the various gauze and bandages littering the counter.
"Hello, Grundy." She greeted, sounding only a touch disgruntled.
Grundy, as that apparently was his name, didn't respond. He only gave a grunt, then set his cold eyes on Clover. She clutched the edge of her shirt tightly, trying not to wither under his rage filled gaze.
"Who she?" He grunted as Lee pulled a chair over to sit in front of him.
"My assistant, Clover. She's going to be helping out for a while."
Grundy didn't nod or give any indication he had heard her, only staring at Clover unblinkingly. After staring back in fear for a few moments, Clover quickly walked over to the counter facing away from him, fiddling with something so she could continue to hide. Something in his expression was unsettling, and if he was "the champ" Clover knew he'd have no problem tearing her head off. It was best to avoid aggravating him, although that would be hard considering he acted like a wary wild animal in her presence.
Lee patched Grundy up in silence, asking for Clover to pass her something every few minutes. Grundy would occasionally give an unsettling grunt or sigh, but Lee didn't even flinch. Clover couldn't help but think, 'That woman's really got some balls.' She could imagine that Lee was probably a little bit of a badass, which may or may not have made her a little jealous. Clover had always been pretty mild mannered, at least to strangers, but had always dreamed of being the sort of self reliant woman who'd make her way in the world alone. Maybe there was still hope if Grundy didn't crush her skull.
The flow of Lee and Clover's work was abruptly halted by a man entering the room.
"Grundy my friend, we've done it again!" A familiar voice exclaimed in jubilation.
Clover's body tensed as a petrified feeling ran down her spine. She couldn't see the man who had spoken, but she didn't have to in order to recognize his voice. It was him, Edward Nygma, alive and kicking if his enthusiastic tone was any indication.
Grundy gave a dopey laugh and then a slapping noise was heard, presumably a high five between the two. Clover gripped the counter harder as she faced away from the room's new occupant. She wasn't quite sure what would happen if he saw her, but she didn't want to find out.
Lee chose that moment to pipe up. "Grundy did it, Ed." She pointed out in a deadpan voice. "You stood off to the side and watched him take a beating."
Nygma scoffed. "Well that's what managers are for, aren't they? Besides, look at all the cash we earned buddy!"
Clover heard a swishing that she assumed was Nygma flaunting his newly earned money. Grundy made an agreeable huff and Lee sighed.
"Clover could you pass me more gauze?" Lee asked, holding her hand out without taking her eyes off the wound she was dressing.
Clover swallowed thickly as she picked up the gauze and turned towards Lee, her hair obstructing a good portion of her face. She felt his eyes on her, and everything seemed to slow down. She could practically hear her heart pick up speed and wondered if everybody else in the room could too. Did he recognize her from that night of the explosion? Did he remember her from their awkward encounter at Myrtle's apartment? The questions ran through her head as she firmly handed Lee the gauze and turned around quickly, hiding herself from his eyes once again.
Nygma remained silent, but Clover couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Either way, it felt like the temperature had increased by a hundred degrees and Clover prayed she could leave soon.
After a few moments Nygma asked, "So have you given any more thought to my proposition Lee?"
Clover could imagine that Lee was rolling her eyes, based on the tone of her response. "My job is to patch up Grundy as long as Cherry tells me to, you're not part of that deal."
"Well maybe I could convince you, Lee. If we could talk...privately."
Clover could feel his eyes boring holes in the back of her neck. Whether or not he knew who she was, it was clear she wasn't welcome here.
Lee exhaled. "Why don't you head home Clover? I've got it covered from here."
Clover nodded slowly, turning towards the door. Three sets of eyes followed her, and she couldn't tell whose gaze was more disconcerting. She passed by Nygma, seeing him in her peripheral vision track her retreating form with his eyes. She felt as if she was walking on hot coals.
"I'll see you next week." Lee called as Clover reached the door.
"Definitely." Cover choked out, quickly leaving the room.
Clover walked quickly down the staircase, ignoring the looks she was getting from the few patrons left in the club. She shouldered open the old wooden door at the front, grunting from the dull pain the she felt. It wasn't until she had mindlessly walked a few blocks down the street that Clover came back to herself.
Her toes curled in her shoes, seeking respite from the cold, but Clover forced herself to keep moving. She wasn't even sure if she was going in the right direction, but her main priority was to keep going until she found a bus stop. Eventually she saw one up ahead, the dull grey bench almost looking like heaven. Clover slowly shuffled towards it, placing herself on the very edge of the seat. She wrapped her arms around herself to shield the cold away, shivering with each gust of wind.
Her mind was still racing, and all Clover could think of to calm herself is something a therapist had told her a long time ago. She had said that any time Clover began to have overwhelming thoughts, she should think back to whatever had happened and talk herself through it. Putting the events in a logical light made them easier to process. It was something she had done on the night of the explosion, but forgotten about until now.
'Just breath Clover.' She took a deep breath. 'Just think about what happened.'
First she had helped the little girl, Bailey, on the front steps of the apartment building. Then Lee had taken her to the clinic. She helped people, fixed their wounds. There was a pregnant woman there. Then they'd gone up to treat Grundy, and he'd scared the hell out of her. Then Nygma appeared.
"God damnit." Clover mumbled, rubbing the palms of her hands up and down her cheeks. "Just when I'm starting to belong somewhere, he shows up."
How could she go back there now? If she went again, Nygma was sure to recognize her, if he hadn't already tonight. And what then? What would he do to her?
Clover paused for a moment, mulling over the question in her head. What would he do to her? When she had first met him at Gotham U, she'd been convinced he would hurt her if she called the police and told about him. But that wasn't right, it couldn't be. He was more than happy to have Gotham know he was behind the murders. He had flamboyantly announced himself to the entire GCPD. Nygma was proud of his crimes, and it began to occur to Clover that he had let her go that night for that exact reason.
She'd always just considered that night a stroke of pure luck. She'd assumed maybe Nygma didn't want to bother with her, maybe he'd been on a tight schedule, or assumed she wouldn't blabber to the cops. But no, he'd let her go because he wanted her to tell. A man with his size ego craved recognition and attention, and a witness to his crime was the perfect way to spread his infamy.
Clover's train of thought brought her back around to her previous question; what would he do if he recognized her? And the only logical answer in her head was; nothing. He might say something snarky to her, but why exert the effort in harming her? She'd been inconsequential to him really, and Clover wanted to slap herself for not grasping that fact before. Nygma had set of a perilous chain reaction in her life, but she was barely a footprint in the sand on his. He'd forget about her as soon as the tide came in.
However, there was still the issue of what had gone down at Myrtle's house. Clover had seen him during an extremely vulnerable moment, and she doubted he'd appreciate her living with that information. But, hadn't he been completely delusional during that time? He'd called her Kristen after all, so it was entirely possible that he hadn't even seen her for who she truly was.
Clover stared down at her hand, flexing her sore fingers back and forth. The truth was, despite everything she'd just realized, she was still scared of Nygma. He was a criminal, a murderer, and if she went back to the clinic she might be in his presence again. Could she really put herself through that fear again if it meant she might see him again?
Clover bit her lip, working it down with her teeth until she could taste blood. Working at the clinic had brought a life back into her she hadn't even known was missing. Medical work had been her life's passion once upon a time, and right now working with Lee was her only access to it. There was so much fear in that place, but also so much life.
Clover released her lip, beginning to grit her teeth instead. There was no way she was going to let some stupid, riddle telling man take it away from her. First he'd destroyed her university, and now he was coming for another outlet for her passion. But she wasn't going to let him push her out again, not when she'd found something that made her feel so alive.
Clover swallowed thickly, her resolve hardening around her like a shield of armor. Edward Nygma could engulf every space in Gotham if he wanted, but he couldn't have her space. It was hers, and Clover knew she could find a way to keep him out.
/
A/N:
Pretty sure Lee's clinic isn't at the same place as the fight club, but oh well. Just another example of me ignoring canon for the sake of plot. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed/followed/favorited. It makes my entire week when I see that people enjoy my writing :)