Clover's eyes narrowed in concentration as she delivered her last meticulous stitch. The black thread holding the flesh together didn't make the sliced skin look any less grotesque, but it did stop the bleeding. This particular patient had come into the clinic with a stab wound, shallow enough to miss puncturing any organs, but deep enough to require stitches. Mending these types of injuries had become commonplace in her new pseudo job, but that didn't make dealing with them any less stressful. Especially when the patient insisted on squirming and thrashing like a child. Clover had almost stabbed herself with the needle as she avoided their fits more times than she could count.

It had been a few days since her encounter with Nygma at the bar, and even more since she'd first agreed to work the clinic on weekends. She'd thought there would be no time to come every day, but the clinic almost became a sort of safe haven to her. Despite the looming fear of Nygma's return, things were great at the clinic. Her day job was so boring and monotonous that she left her shifts positively craving the rush working with Lee provided. Clover often found herself leaving for the Narrows straight after work, staying at the clinic until early morning hours. Even if she hadn't wanted to come in, Lee had been stretched so thin lately that it mostly fell on Clover's shoulders to keep the place up and running.

Apparently, Lee's former boss and simultaneous head of the club had been killed in action. This left a vacant position straight at the top of the Narrows food chain, one that Lee had gracefully filled after everyone practically begged her to take it. Now people were calling her the "Queen of the Narrows", and Clover could see why. The woman had a natural strength for leadership, and an overwhelming amount of compassion. If anyone was going to help the sorry souls of the Narrows, it would be Lee.

Clover respected Lee and her new role to the best of her abilities, but fell short on appreciating her new right hand man, Nygma. He hadn't so much as said a word to her since their conversation at the bar, but Clover felt his icy looks. Anytime Lee approached her, with Nygma trailing at her heels, he gave her that same calculated gaze. She felt as if she was a pawn on his chess board and he was trying to determine where to place her. Lee seemed comfortable with him, or tolerant at the very least, but Clover didn't trust him for one second. He was a snake, and she knew it was only a matter of time before he struck.

Patting him on the back, Clover lead her final patient to the door, shutting it gently behind him. Now that she was alone, she could focus on the other thing gnawing away at her mind. How to come up with money she owed Robby.

She'd thought of anything and everything that would provide a flux in her income. She could try getting another job, but a months worth of two minimum wage paychecks wouldn't pay back the large debt. She'd thought of taking out a loan from the bank, but knew it wouldn't be so simple and open even more doors to trouble. She'd briefly reflected on what Robby had suggested, about selling herself, but ruled that out as well. Not only was it degrading, but Clover doubted she'd get many customers. She didn't have much experience and didn't exactly meet the physical criteria, even if the standards for those women were unspeakably low.

She'd begrudgingly settled on the fact that the only way to make a lot of money within her time limit was to do something illegal. Under normal circumstances she would have never considered it, but these were dire times. Her first thought was to take money from the register at work, but even if she took it all there wouldn't be enough. She could try to steal someone's credit card or hack their bank account, but it was too risky. And even with her background knowledge on computers, she would have no idea how to go about covering her tracks and not ending up in prison.

She continued with these thoughts until she'd exhausted almost every option except one; robbery. It wasn't ideal, or even something she could see herself getting away with, but it was the safest option. Clover was fast at least, and she already owned a gun. It always looked so simple on TV. The criminal goes in, points their gun at some hapless clerk behind the counter, and they stuff all the money they can get into a burlap sack. Not complicated, right?

Clover leaned against the counter, tapping her fingers as she considered it. She'd have to do research of course, find the perfect bank to target, know the layout extremely well. In the matter of logistics, Clover knew she would have no problem. But could she really go through with it? Could she actually point a gun at someone's face and threaten their life?

Clover breathed in deeply. It wasn't a matter of if she could; she had to, for the sake of her father. He wasn't a good man, and far from a good father, but he was the only family she had. She couldn't lose anyone else, despite how crappy he was.

Clover tensed as the door opened, Lee entering through it with her usual bold stride. She had transitioned from her usual doctor-esque get-up to something a little more befitting of a her new royal status. Lee was all sharp edges and sleek design, coupled with dark clothing and makeup. Clover probably would've hated the look an anyone else, but Lee somehow managed to pull it off.

Lee stood just beyond the doorway for a moment, glancing around the room with a sort of fondness. Clover let her have a moment, recognizing Lee's longing to return here. This was the space she'd poured her sweat and blood into creating, of course she'd would miss it. Clover longed to be here all the time, and she'd only been coming for a little over a week.

"I just ran into the a patient outside, Clover. He seemed pretty satisfied with his care. I'm glad to see you're running things so smoothly."

Clover smiled at her flattery. "I'm just following what you taught me Lee, nothing much to it."

Lee placed her hand on Clover's shoulder, a look of genuine gratitude on her face. "I'm serious. You taking over things here had been a huge help. It seems like I've been so busy lately, I have no time for what I originally set out to do."

"Are you kidding Lee?" Clover laughed good naturedly. "You started out trying to help the people of the Narrows, and look what you've accomplished! We're more united than ever, and everyone's spirits are certainly higher."

Lee smiled. "Still, I appreciate you devoting so much time to the clinic. I know it can't be convenient for you."

Clover pushed of the counter, squaring up to Lee. "It's no problem, really. This place has become like a second home to me."

Clover smiled affectionately as her eyes surveyed the room. Most wouldn't find comfort in a doctor's office, but the place made her feel at peace. Here she could forget about all her troubles and pretend like she was still studying pre-med at college, back when things were more simple.

"Well I'm glad you feel that way." Lee responded warmly, strolling over to idly inspect the diagram on the wall.

Clover suspected she had more to say, so she silently waited for Lee to continue.

"The truth is," Clover didn't like the tone Lee's voice had taken, "I didn't come down here just to talk about the clinic."

Clover swallowed thickly. "Oh?"

"I saw you at the bar a few nights ago…"

Clover froze. Was this about her conversation with Nygma? Clover couldn't imagine what Lee thought they were doing. Did she somehow think they were working together? Or maybe she was going to ask if he had threatened her. Clover fumbled for what she would say in response. Should she confess to everything? Or would that provoke some sort of retaliation from Nygma? She was having an increasingly hard time reading the situation. Clover stayed silent, nodding for Lee to go on.

"I know you were approached by one of the workers here. His name was Frank."

Clover nodded, trying not to show her internal confusion. "Yea, I did talk to a guy, didn't know his name was Frank though."

Lee nodded, her gaze set in an unwavering frown. Her next question almost seemed reluctant.

"Did you by any chance have any other interactions with Frank that night?"

Clover was beyond bewildered. She'd parted ways with the man after Nygma's interference, never wanting to talk to him again. She was blunt enough to tell Lee that.

"No, I never saw him after he walked away." She paused, scanning Lee's stony face. "What is this about Lee?"

Lee sighed, leaning her back against the wall in a more relaxed posture. "Earlier this morning Frank was found out back in the dumpster, dead. He had multiple stab wounds in his abdomen, looked like he'd been dead for several days."

Clover's neck jerked back in shock, Lee's previous implication finally becoming clear.

"And you think I had something to do with it?"

"Slow down Clover." Lee raised her palms in a placating gesture. "I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm only asking you because I thought you might know of his whereabouts later that night."

Clover shook her head quickly, heart still pounding. "I didn't see him again Lee, I swear. I left the bar a few minutes after he did."

"Alright alright, I believe you Clover." Lee assured her softly.

Clover's heart rate began to decrease slowly, but she was still weary of Lee. Crimes like this happened all the time in Gotham, but Clover had never dreamed she'd be the suspect of one. Even though she'd just been contemplating a bank robbery a few minutes ago.

The two stood in silence for a few minutes, Lee lost in thought and Clover trying to fight back the unwelcome curiosity blooming in her. Who had Frank been killed by, and what was the motive? She could think of a few, including someone's reaction to his sour personality. Lee finally broke the silence, letting out a grunt of frustration. Clover glanced up at her with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry Clover, I never meant to implicate that you did this..." Lee raised a hand to rub her temple. "It's just, how am I supposed to be their leader when I can't even stop things like this happening on my own turf? His family is asking questions, and I can't give them answers."

Clover's anger at her accusations began to dissipate. Lee really had a lot on her plate, and Clover could relate to the bouts of frustration that came with all that stress. And although Lee was probably more accustomed to such things, Clover sympathized in that she'd be upset too if someone she knew was murdered. Despite how sleazy Frank had acted toward her, she had never wanted to see him severely hurt. Maybe punched in the face, but not killed.

Lee looked like she was just about ready to yank her hair out, gritting her teeth together heavily.

"It's...alright Lee." Clover wasn't sure how to comfort her, but she'd try her best. "I'm sure you'll find out what happened. And even if you don't, you'll still be a good leader. You've managed to pull these people up on their feet before, you can do it again."

Lee looked up at Clover, giving her a faint smile.

"You're a good friend Clover. I know we haven't known each other for long, but I really appreciate everything you've done."

Clover felt her face heat up as she blushed. It wasn't often someone expressed appreciation towards her. It felt nice, if not a little unfamiliar and uncomfortable.

"Well thanks, I guess. Just doing what I can." She responded sheepishly.

Lee gestured towards the door. "Why don't you take the rest of the night off? You've earned it."

Clover wanted to tell her that there was nothing but worry and stress at home, but she just nodded compliantly instead. She didn't need to burden Lee with her problems, the woman had enough stress as it was.

"Alright then, have a good night Lee." Clover said as she deposited her latex gloves in the trash, then turned for the door.

"You too, be safe out there." Lee called as the door shut behind her.

'I don't think I really have a choice.' Clover thought as she made her way down the hallway.

Frank, her unpleasant suitor, certainly hadn't had much luck with being safe. Someone had killed him in cold blood, stabbing him repeatedly through the stomach. Clover felt herself transition into a sort of detective mode, contemplating the murder she had just recently been a suspect in. There were multiple reasons someone could've had it out for Frank. The most typical ones were disputes related to money, women, or gang affiliations. His death could have been the result of a drunken fight or a mugging. The possibilities were endless, but Clover couldn't quite believe any of them based on the evidence.

He'd been stabbed multiple times with a knife. She hadn't witnessed many fights before, but through hearsay she knew most parties preferred to use guns. No, if someone was using a knife that meant that the fight must've been planned, at least by one party. If someone was going for a quick and easy kill, they wouldn't have bothered with such a short range weapon. The multiple stab wounds were another indicator that it hadn't been a mugging or random attack. There were exceptions of course, but most efficient fighters wouldn't go for more than one hit. The consecutive stabs all in the same location were an indicator that this murder had been one of passion, the perpetrator eager to get the job done.

Clover scoffed at herself, becoming aware of her train of thought. Look at her, trying to play Sherlock Holmes. Petty crime like this happened all the time in Gotham, and there was usually no rhyme or reason to it. Even if Clover did investigate the case, she had little to nothing to go off of. She had only talked to Frank for five minutes, and she had no idea what types of people he was affiliated with. Well, except for one person.

Clover's thoughts lapsed for a moment. Frank worked for the club, and Nygma by association. And Nygma had seemed pretty pissed when he'd called Frank to go do his job.

'What am I thinking.' Clover thought. 'What reason would he have for killing Frank? You're being ridiculous Clover.'

But was she? It was a long, long stretch, but Nygma had murdered before. It was plausible he'd do it again. Maybe it was some scheme of his to throw Lee off her game, make her weak so he could take her place. But if undermining Lee really was his plan, killing Frank was an extremely roundabout way to do so. No, if Nygma was going to come after Lee he'd be much more efficient in doing so.

Clover shook her head, urging herself to let it go. It was really none of her business, and it would soon fade into another forgotten story of Gotham's long and rich criminal history. And besides, she had enough going on without adding another heaping of stress to her plate. She continued down the hallway towards the stairs, switching her train of thought to something more mundane.

But before she could reach the stairs, Clover heard something that made her pause. It was an angry voice, coming from one of the rooms. She nearly kept walking, but stayed put when she recognized the voice. It was Nygma, and he did not sound happy. She knew she should just keep going and avoid trouble, but her curiosity was overwhelming. Who could he possibly be yelling at? There was no one left down here aside from Lee, and she was still in the clinic room. After a moment of debate, Clover slowly pressed her ear to the wall, careful not to make a sound, and listened to his muffled voice.

It was quiet for a moment, and Clover wondered if she'd imagined his voice. Then suddenly, there was shouting.

"I AM IN CONTROL!" She winced as she heard him yell. Once again she told herself to leave, but her feet refused to cooperate.

He whispered something that she couldn't make out, and the silence reigned for a few more moments. There were no other voices speaking, just his. If Clover hadn't known any better, she'd say he was alone in there.

After a while, he sneered just loud enough for her to hear him. "You're wrong." There was enough venom in his voice to kill a cobra.

There was another pause then he began to shout again, and there was a sound of glass shattering. That was enough to make Clover bolt, quickly making her way over to the stairs. She didn't look back down, pretending to ignore whatever she'd just heard. She didn't see Nygma exiting the room, alerted by the sound of her hurried footsteps. He barely caught sight of her ankles and white sneakers as she reached the top of the stairs. His eyes narrowed in suspicion as he watched her make haste towards the upper level.

/

Clover didn't sleep well that night, tossing and turning in her sleep. It was almost as if she'd reverted back to the state she'd been in before, having countless terrifying dream that made sleep impossible. In some of them she saw the clinic bursting into flames, Robby and his men being the ones to light it on fire. In other dreams she saw Lee dying, overcome by the flushed angry faces and beating fists of the people she'd sworn to protect.

In the worst of her dreams, Clover found herself standing in an alley, surrounded on all sides by men holding daggers. Her father stood behind her, Frank to her side, and Nygma directly in front. They all plunged their knives into her, a dream's imitation of pain flaring through her. When she looked over Nygma's shoulder she could see her brother sitting on top of the dumpster, watching her passively. She tried to call out to him for help, but that was where the dream ended. She woke up in a cold sweat at 4 am and refused to go back to sleep. Being exhausted was better than experiencing more torment.

She used the early morning hours to get a scope on the bank she had selected. Clover nervously entered the building, keeping her head down to hide her face. It was surprisingly nice compared to some of the other banks she'd been to. It even had a revolving door.

Trying to inconspicuously map her surroundings, Clover felt her hands tremor. When she'd gone into the Iceberg Lounge her main fear had been getting caught by Penguin. Now she was afraid of getting caught by the cops. If she ended up in jail, Clover was certain her life would be over. If she was going to do this, it would need to be perfect.

Clover knew there was more than one way to go about her robbery. She could either hold up the bank with a gun, or she could break in after hours. The second option sounded the most appealing, but came with its own set of problems. She knew she'd have no problem breaking into the place considering the poor security, but unlocking the safe was another problem.

Back when her Uncle Ryuu had worked in banking, he'd mentioned that most safes had standard combination locks. Clover knew how to pick a combination lock, but there was no guarantee that the bank used that type. But she supposed it was risk she was willing to take. It was either that or give up hope.

Despite her fatalistic thinking, there was one more option that had been nagging at Clover. But she really, really didn't want to go for it.

She had been considering returning to Myrtle and asking her if she had any more jobs. Clover doubted she'd have anything, or even be willing to pay a lot like she had last time, but her desperation was overwhelming. Somehow, doing something illegal for a crazy lady seemed less scary than carrying it out on her own terms. Clover chastised herself for her wishful thinking, but found herself heading towards Myrtle's apartment later that day anyways.

As she was wandering down the cracked pavement, Clover repeatedly told herself it was a bad idea, that she was only going to be embarrassed. Maybe if getting money was her only motivation, these thoughts would have turned Clover back. But admittedly, she was also simply curious about how Myrtle had fared. It was clear that Nygma was no longer staying with her. Clover wondered if Myrtle had become his sidekick, as it had seemed that was her main goal in life. Clover chuckled as she thought about how Nygma must have reacted, waking up surrounded by his own face and color scheme. Even though he intimidated her, it was fun to imagine him in such a predicament.

Clover recognized the street she had come up to. Myrtle's apartment was only a few blocks down. Clover continued down the street, slowing to a halt when she finally reached her destination. She gawked at her apartment, not quite sure how to process what she was seeing.

The front door looked like is had been kicked in, and the open frame was completely barred off by faded yellow police tape. It looked like it had been there for awhile. The small lawn spaces in front of the surrounding apartments were surprisingly well kept, but Myrtle's grass was overgrown and jagged from neglect. Clover didn't want to admit it, but she already had a good idea of what had gone down.

"It's a shame about what happened, huh?"

Clover jumped in surprise, turning her head to see a small elderly woman that had hobbled up beside her. The woman's droopy eyes surveyed the scene with resigned sadness, similar to the way most people in Gotham looked upon crime. Clover didn't say anything, but the woman continued anyways.

"She was always such a pleasant neighbor. Not sure why anyone would wanna shoot the girl."

Clover winced. There it was, the blow she'd been waiting for. She'd wanted to believe it was something else, but the police tape had made it all too evident what had happened. She'd seen in before.

'Was this Nygma?' Clover thought to herself.

While it didn't seem like much of a thank you for saving his life, Clover could easily connect Nygma to this crime. Maybe he'd snapped after listening to Myrtle's chattering.

"Do-do they know who did it?" Clover asked, staring through the dark windows.

"Well there's rumors going around that it was Zsasz, but most of us think it was just a break in."

"Who's Zsasz?" Clover asked. His name sounded familiar to her, but she wasn't sure from where.

The woman let out an amused chortle. "You must not be from around these parts. He's an assassin on Penguin's payroll. It's all fooey if you ask me. What would he want with someone like her?"

Clover felt a drop of sweat roll down her face. Penguin had actually sent an assassin after her. What did that mean for Clover? It was bad enough she had to worry about Robby and Nygma, now she had to watch out for Penguin?

Clover forced herself to breath. 'Be logical Clover,' she thought. If Penguin knew she was in on Myrtle's plan, she'd be dead by now. Zsasz would have come for her already if Myrtle had given her up. Chances were that Penguin probably suspected that Myrtle had worked alone. Clover wouldn't say she was in the clear, but the danger seemed too minimal to take first priority at the moment. Even if Zsasz was sent after her, he'd just have to get in line.

The woman continued on. "I just wonder when the landlord's gonna come clean the place and put it back on the market. It's been empty for over a month now."

Clover began to wander away, and if the woman said anything she didn't hear it. For all the wacky things Myrtle had done, Clover supposed she owed her in the end. Cobblepot had probably interrogated her, and she could've tried to shirk the blame onto Clover. But she didn't. Maybe she'd known it wouldn't change her fate, or maybe she just hadn't been thinking of it. In any case, Clover was grateful. Right then would not be a good time to die. She had a lot going on, and still had plans to go back and finish college.

'Take it slow, one step at a time.' She thought, stuffing her hands in her jean pockets.

Her eventual goal was to return to college and at least graduate with her bachelor's, but that was a dream for the far future. First Clover had to get through her current predicament. Oh and yea, she had to rob a bank. That was sizing up to be an interesting experience.