—chapter five.

  ❛ guess i'm a bartender and a doctor, now. ❜  

DIEGO AND ELODIE WOULD EVENTUALLY MEET AGAIN, but maybe that was no shock at all (considering fate, and the universe meddling in strangers' lives, and whatnot).

However, there had been a shock in how that next meeting came to be. 

It was quiet that next Wednesday night. Elodie really was not sure why she was even still there, but she had no real desire to clock out early. It was money, and if she didn't have to do much for it...well, she'd be content with a couple moments of peace. Plus, Charlie was there to dilute the boredom - even if he was 'working', he never minded conversation to quell the itching desire to burn their workplace down (or, was that just her?). 

The atmosphere was nice, too, for once. Elodie put this to the music; normally it was loud and stupid pop songs that she couldn't ever get out of her head, but in the peace of a nearly-empty place, Charlie chose quieter poison. Slow rock ballads belted through tinny speakers and gave warmth to the shitty decor that was so rarely felt. Maybe the customers wouldn't be enthralled, but if they were coming into Wallow's - well, they would probably not be thinking about the music first.

And considering no one was there, well...

And so, Elodie puttered, and Charlie did too, each doing bare-minimum work just to say they did something. Not that it really mattered; the owner had a bad case of never wanting to actually come into his own bar, and so they got away with much more than they probably should. Which was nice, even if it spoke volumes about the bar he owned.

She never really understood why he owned it, but money was money, and she really could not say anything on that. Why, she herself would buy the place in a heartbeat if she had the cash - if only to say she could. Sure, she definitely could not with what she was making, but it would be nice to have a say in the damned place. Better her, than the asshole running it already.

"Elodie?"

But for right then, she was still a bartender. Better let those dreams dry up.

"Uh-huh?" 

"Can you pass me that box?"

She groaned and sighed, but did as he asked. Charlie smiled sweetly and tossed it in the large garbage bag that was then thrown over his shoulder, disappearing around the corner without another word. She watched him leave before returning back to her own work.

Only, as her attention righted, the lead in her pencil snapped upon immediate impact. Of course. Elodie scowled but staggered up again, cursing whoever decided to place the sharpener so far away from everything else.

"First world problems," she grumbled, sticking the pencil in and twisting. "They're stupid, but they also suck total as-"

-she was censored by the ever-familiar sound of the door and the bell above it. Her frown deepened at the noise (she was just about to ask to go home, dammit), but she tried to keep her voice neutral. "Welcome to Wallow's, I'll be right wit'you."

No one answered to that, which was not inherently strange. Often people disregarded her until they actually wanted something from her, which was fine with her.

What was off, though, was that there were no stomps of shoes or the creaking of old boards. All that reached her ears with a soft groan, and a single noise of something hitting the floor, before all sound cut out. So,either the customer was a freakin' nymph, or a baby had stumbled into her place of work to enjoy some adolescent evils.

However, both assumptions turned out to be very, very wrong. Elodie spun around and drew her eyes up, only to drop her frown in exchange for a soft gasp and her jaw falling slack. There had been no creaking because the figure had not moved - not forward, at least. He had, however, slumped and fallen to his knees, and was staring across the bar at her with a strange mixture of regret and deep, dark sadness, staining handsome features that always seemed so light, before.

"Holy fu...Diego?"

"I'm sorry to come in like this," he mumbled, and it was clear even talking hurt, "I just...n-n-needed t-t-to stop..."

In the hazy shock of seeing him, Elodie hardly registered a thing he said. She just saw him, and the way he just sat there...

Her knees hit the hardwood beside him. Pain shot up both but she blinked away the sting and looked to him. His head hung awkwardly on his neck, and he gasped through pain greater than any she had known. For a panicked moment, she had no clue what to do - how to treat a man like that, someone she hardly even knew?

But then he groaned again, and she snapped to.

"What - what happened?"

"Does it m-m-m-matter?"

"No, guess not," she murmured. She staggered to her feet and found herself sort of hovering over him, unsure what to do. "Um...where is it all? The um...pain, I mean."

Diego just pointed, gesturing to his torso, right leg and then hissing as he tried to reach behind himself. So talking was too much effort for him...that wasn't a happy sign. She tried not to think about that.

There was a part of her that was just absolutely terrified, confused and wondering what in the hell she was going to do with him. Or even, what could she do to help him, because by nature the woman was not a caring one. She looked after her own self and those she loved most when necessary, but a good bedside manner and playing 'nurse' were not things she prided herself in. She was not a comforter, her mind acted up too easily and frustration levels when things did not go perfectly rose far too fast for that. Selfish, perhaps, but - why lick other wounds when you could save your own?

But another part of her ached, seeing a once so cocky man nearly collapsed on the floor. He needed help, and she knew it had to be bad for him to ask for that. Diego needed her...and she probably didn't need him dying in her place of employment.

"Alright, alright," she huffed, before turning around. Her mind had only just remembered Charlie and she yelled out to the storage room to call him over. "Hurry!"

Charlie raced out and then immediately stopped, staring down at the floor in shock. At that point, Diego was in a half sitting, half fetal position, trying to appear strong but in clear pain. Needless to say, it didn't look good. 

"What is--"

"-I need to go get him help, like right now," she rushed out, "okay? Um, I'll be back and you call me if you need me in right then, if it gets busy call Claire, she owes me a favour anyways. I feel really shitty, it's just- you know."

He only nodded, face softening as he took in the situation.

"Can I - shit, I don't have a - can you use the phone, call a cab?"

From down below, Diego wheezed. "No...I got a car."

"Huh?"

"B-b-block from here," he mumbled, forcing himself up again to his knees. "Just couldn't...m-m-m..."

Elodie cut him off curtly, realising he was in too much pain to get his thoughts out right. She nodded back to Charlie and shakily, the man shot a thumb's up back. Moving in a newly motivated rush, she grabbed a pile of napkins, spitting out that she would be back to collect her binder and things later. 

If Charlie said anything to that, she didn't hear it.

Then came the difficulty of actually helping the man, who seemed too weary to walk on his own. How he even made it in there, she had no clue, but the universe seemed to work too mysteriously to always know the answer. She hesitantly bent again and held the napkins out. "You bleeding? D'ya need these?"

Even through the pain, the man chuckled, low and raspy. "Wow. Thanks."

"Uh-huh." She ignored the sarcastic inflection in his tone, too panicked for banter. "Alright, I'm going to have to help you move, okay? How do you want to...um...I've never done this before, I don't know how to help you move?"

With that, Diego motioned he would get up, and Elodie leant her shoulder - and really entire upper body - so he could. It was awkward, sure, and she knew he felt odd letting her be a support, but in a moment or two, he was up with his arm slung around her shoulders, body awkwardly hanging off her. It was a strange move and not at all comfortable, holding up a man a good head's taller than her - but it'd have to work.

Elodie gripped tight to his shirt and with a start, realised it really was cold metal sting up against her arm. Him and those knives, she would really have to ask him about that later...

"Y-you don't-"

"-hush and save your strength, Robin Hood," she huffed, helping him through before shutting it behind her. Her voice lowered so she herself could barely hear it, wondering if he caught a word. "Just let me be a good person for once and help you."

He made no more noise, but Elodie would bet money that he was smiling at that.

The walk to his car was horrible and she very nearly dropped him at least twice, which only made her more determined to succeed. She was running hot with frustration, but she kept going. Another time she would have made a dozen jokes at this, or maybe been uncomfortable realising how close she was to him, a man who really did strike her as what she would call 'too frickin' good-lookin'' but her mind was set on one thing alone.

"Y..."

"Huh?"

"Hot."

"What?!"

Diego lifted his head and cocked it her way, "This's hot."

For a moment, she thought it was something wrong with her, and indeed Elodie adjusted herself so her hands no longer held so tightly against his sweater-clad skin. But when a slow smile spread across his face, she realised his intent and very nearly pushed him into the road, right then and there.

"Shuddup, else I'm leaving you to bled out right here on the sidewalk, you dick."

"Wouldn't do much g-good...car's right here."

Elodie blinked and stopped. For a second they just stood there swaying, paused in front of the car as though staring at it would do a thing. 

"Oh, oh - uh, keys?"

"Huh?"

"Keys, Diego, keys. Hell knows you're not driving in your state."

He protested weakly, but eventually and with a grumble, passed over the keys. Elodie smiled grimly before unlocking the vehicle and pressing him into the passenger seat. "You need your seatbelt done, honey?"

"No, you sh-"

-the door slammed before his insult could finish. Elodie swung around to the other end and slipped in the driver's seat. She slid the keys into the ignition and waited for the car to groan back to life. Diego huffed and puffed beside her, shrugging on a seatbelt with some difficulty, and as he did so - quite humorously, she might add - she slid the seat forward.

"Okay. Alright. Great." Elodie avoided his gaze, fearing if she looked even for a second, she'd psyche herself out and do something stupid. "Gotta figure out the quickest way to a hospital now, I guess? I-"

"-no."

"I'm sorry, no?"

Diego shook his head, the most fervent movement she had seen him do all day. "Can't. Can't go to the hospital."

"Dude, you're a freaking mess, can't just pass that off with a couple of band-aids. You need legit medical help! I mean - you can't even walk right! I had to carry your ass, does that seem okay to you?!"

He huffed. "I can't go there."

"Wha-why not?"

"I've got a record, for one," he grumbled, tone softening at the last bit, "and two - I don't want to go through that."

Elodie finally turned to stare at him, if only so he could see the point-black glare on her face. Not that it did much. His face was grim, but made up, and if he was as half as stubborn as she had so far seen, it wouldn't be much good trying to argue. He'd probably do something stupid and get himself hurt even worse to stop her, and having his death on her hands wasn't exactly ideal.

So she'd have to compromise.

"Just...I'll tell you where to drop me off."

"In your state? Oh, no, I'm not 'dropping you off' somewhere just so you can die. I don't want your death on my conscience!"

His eyebrow quirked. "You got a better idea?"

She really did not have anything to suggest; Elodie was just as confused as him, probably ten times over. However, she began to press down on the gas and manoeuvre the car out of the space - thankfully, there was no one in front of them so it was easier than not - without a word.

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

"Oh, so-"

"-not your place, dummy," she shot out, not taking her eyes off the road. Slowly but surely she pressed harder at the gas until they were speeding down the narrow roads. Her teeth ground for a second, anxiety bubbling in her throat like bile, before she could look back his way. "Mine."

"Wait, I-"

"-I gotta clean you up."

"No, you are not-"

"-consider it a re-payment," she grinned, cutting him off yet another time. She glanced over at him, just to preen in his anger. He glared harder; she bit back a chuckle.

"You saved my life, I'm going to make sure you don't ruin yours by being a complete dumbass and pretending like this is fine n'dandy. And before you say anything again, remember that you're the one who came to me. You could'a just bled out in an alleyway alone, didn't have to make me care about your wellbeing."

"Harsh."

"Whoops. My bad."

She didn't look over again, but in the mirror, she could just make out his smile. She, in turn, tried to hold hers back and focus on the road.

"JUST TO PREFACE THIS. I AM NOT A DOCTOR."

Diego gave a small grimace in response. He laid with his back pressed against her crummy couch, limp and splayed like a squashed bug (it'd be funny, if he wasn't half dead). He had taken off the weird knife-harness thing, at her request, and Elodie was debating asking about the shirt too. She didn't want to, she really wasn't looking forward to the smirk that'd arise at that - but she wasn't a miracle worker, and could not heal wounds over the fabric. 

"Also, I don't know what I'm doing! Also, times two, if I make things worse or end up with you dead, don't sue me. I warned you!"

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind when you end up killing me."

"Good, good...good." Elodie was nervous, moreso than ever, but she dared not share that with him. He probably already knew, considering how long she was hesitating in the kitchen, soaking rags and trying to find what she could to use as medical supplies. She had at least found some shambles of medical supplies, grabbing whatever he had suggested, but it felt like nothing compared to the injured man on her sofa.

Panic rose higher than ever. She tried to ignore its scowling face.

Elodie leant over the sink again, but not to wet any more rags. Instead, she soaked her own hands, drowning them in the ice-cold faucet water as though that was a way to quench the flames billowing inside her lungs. She breathed in deep and let her head hang low, droplets of cold hitting her face in a way that was not unwelcome. Her eyes screwed shut and waited for the heat to die down.

"You don't have to do this."

But she did, and Elodie knew she would - no matter the circumstance. There was a weird feeling stirring in her gut that didn't sit right with her. And as much as she wanted to ignore it, she couldn't; she wanted to help it. She wanted him okay and that was not something she imagined ever thinking for very nearly a stranger. But she was willing to act on it, regardless.

"It's whatever," Elodie mumbled, before drying her hands and moving out of the kitchen. She carried her 'equipment' out to Diego and set it down on the small side table. Her sleeves got rolled up and she pulled her hair back into a low ponytail, with strands sticking out and everywhere in what could be called a little fuzzy halo around.

"Okay. Great. Now, take your shirt off."

He opened his eyes and frowned, "what?"

"Take your shirt off, and um-" her fervour was already gone, replaced by giddy nerves and the taste of blood from biting down too hard on her tongue. "-I need to see the um, the wounds n'shit."

He hesitated for a moment but slid forward and in slow, painfully slow movements, lifted the garment above his head. Diego collapsed backwards then, in clear pain but still grinning like she knew he would. What a cheeky little pisspot. 

Straight out of a lifetime movie, if she would say so herself.

"What are you grinning about," she murmured, trying not to let her voice shake. 

"Just -- normally people wait until we've at least had dinner until they ask me to take my clothes off."

Elodie gritted her teeth at that remark, but got some vengeance at least in her next movements; as the rag pressed against the angry wound decorating his shoulder, Diego hissed and gripped tightly to her couch cushion. She tried to hold her tongue and just focus on cleaning the cut, soaking the blood up carefully - though admittedly, not too carefully. Half because of how on edge she was, and a half just to make sure he got her point.

Finally, she spoke, moving back to dip the rag in the hot water and select a new one. "No offence, but I really don't see you as the sort to steady-date, Robin Hood."

He scowled as she pressed into the cut, breath thinning as the pain rose. "W...what makes you say that?"

"Mm, no reason...just, isn't it a whole thing, for superheroes to woo their damsels in distress and then drop them a night later? Are you a Batman wannabe for nothing?"

"Oh, and you're-"

"-yup, definitely think I'm right on this." Elodie moved away from the wet rags and instead to the gauze she had found under her kitchen sink. Why she had it, she had no clue, but at least it would be going to some good use. "You like to play the game, Diego, whatever the hell your last name is."

"Isn't it rude, to make assumptions?"

"Am I wrong?"

For a long moment, the only sound was their breathing, both ragged and laboured, and her hands making swift work of the gauze. For a woman who was not a caretaker, wrapping wounds did come rather easily - perhaps being a doctor was, after all, in the cards. Not that Elodie was thinking too hard on this, more on how close they were and how odd it was and maybe that she had messed up, saying all that before.

But then he spoke again, just as she moved away and turned her back. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Well, what's your story, little miss judge and executioner?"

Elodie stiffened, but did not turn. "What the hell do you want, my star sign? My, uh, spirit animal?" Her hands pressed into the cool rag, wringing it a little harder. "Cause I don't care much for astronomy."

"No. No," he choked out. She turned to see him propped up a bit higher on the pillows, eyes trained steadily on her with the same look he had been given for the past while. It was becoming, to be vague, a lot, and she still had no clue what he meant by it. "Just...that you like to ask a lot about me, but I don't know shit about you. Can't say that's fair."

"Okay, don't act like I know you, I hardly know your name! Well - not your last name, at least."

"Hargreeves." The word was clipped and terse, something there that told her the word was practically poison in his mouth. "And - holy shit, lady!"

"Careful," she hummed, pressed into the arm with the wet rag. "Don't mo-ove."

"S-sorry."

Elodie did not look at him, at least not his face - her hands and eyes were on his wound, carefully washing out the area like she had any clue what she was doing. When the cloth had soaked up enough blood, she went back for another and returned, working diligently. She hardly even breathed as she worked, trying to bite back any thoughts she would have during her work.

She moved back again, glancing to see him watching her. Her lips pressed thin. "I'm afraid I'm not very interesting, sorry."

"Can't be true."

Elodie shrugged and pressed harder. "We can't all wear leather and prance around the city. Some of us have to live in our bleak realities or whatever."

He flinched a little at that, but the flicker of emotion died as quickly as it formed. He leant in a little closer. "So all you do is work. That's what you're telling me?"

"And fix up pretty boys who do really stupid, stupid things, yeah."

"I'm pretty, now?"

Elodie felt her face flush a little harder, for different reasons that time. Her eyes remained down, focused on the wrapping of his arm, trying her best to not heat up so much that it would be noticeable. Lord forbid she'd embarrass herself even further with that.

But if he noticed, he didn't say. She dared not say a word back to him either, finding no words that could be retorted to fix it. She hadn't meant for the words to slip out, and if she had, it wasn't like that - not really. 

After a couple of long, silent moments, the woman stepped back and clasped her hands together. "I guess that's it, then, unless you've got anything else?"

"They'll be okay," he shrugged, wincing at the sudden movement. "Thanks."

"Uh-huh."

She turned away once more and began to bustle about, trying to clean up the mess she had made. The rags were gone, she would have to toss those out but considering it was a ripped up shirt of her father's that for some unknown reason she still had, Elodie really could not care about that. She drained the hot water and began to scrub the blood of her hands, trying not to think about it too much.

"I'll see you."

"No!" Elodie cried, turning around to catch him before he could get up. "You can't just leave, dumbass! You're hurt!"

"I've had worse."

"Sure, but now you're in my place and I'm not going to let you leave in shambles just 'cause you want to! You'll be dead by the time the elevator dings!"

"So what do you want from me, then?"

"Rest? Sleep? Sit in a tree and sing medieval shanties - whatever gives your body a moment to heal." Her hands clung anxiously to themselves, wringing just as she had done to the rags. "You can't just rush out and fuck yourself over even more."

Diego huffed. "Then I'll go sleep."

"Go? No, just - just - sit there!"

"Here?"

"No, outside in the rain. Of course, here!"

Diego, still pulling on his shirt and moving to grab his vest, shook his head. "I'm not doing that. Thanks for the help, but I have places to be."

"Not tonight, you don't."

He shot her a glare that she completely disregarded, too worried to throw one back herself. "You have to rest, else you're going to end up dead on the streets like you very nearly were. I did not commit this time to you just for it all to be wasted."

"I'll be fine."

"You will not leave." Elodie's hand found the first object near her, of all things a fork, and she rushed to stand in front of the door. "I won't let you."

"So now I'm being kidnapped?"

"No, you just...can't leave. For your own good."

Diego hung his head back, flicking a knife out of its sheath so it sat in his hands. He jabbed it her way casually, "You would not be able to take me, you know that."

"I'm not trying to take you," she retorted, feeling her face heat up even as she talked (even in her concern, the euphemism was not lost on her). Still, she continued and tried to seem as large as possible, arms flung out and weight pressed against the apartment door. "I just am...I don't know what the hell I'm doing." Her words faded from shouts to mumbles, moreso to herself than anyone, though he still heard every word. "Jeez. I mean - obviously - I'm holding a freaking fork, and thinking that's gonna stop a vigilante who plays with knives all day er'day..."

"Exactly."

Elodie looked up again. "But, you're hurt, Diego. And you need to sit down."

"Don't need it."

"Okay, well then I need it, for my mental wellbeing. Don't want me going mad thinking you're dead somewhere, do you?"

His face broke into a smile, and he stepped forward. His weight cocked to one side as he flipped the knife casually, a little mischief glistening in his dark eyes. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were try'na make a move, there."

"Don't get your panties in a twist."

"Say I'm wrong. Am I wrong?"

"You're wrong," Elodie retorted, then jabbed her fork - which felt incredibly stupid, but what else did she have? - towards the couch. "And you're going to stay and freaking sleep. On that couch. Alone. Through the night. Like a good little vigilante."

"No."

"Yes."

"I'll get out."

"Not if I'm at the door."

"I'll use your window."

"Diego, I swear on everything left good on this earth, if you so much as--"

In the end, he stayed the night. On the couch, as she instructed. It only took an hour of arguing, and Elodie very nearly jabbing her makeshift weapon into the wall just about three or four times, as well as Diego very nearly making his wounds worse like, a billion times. At least too many to count.

But at least she won in the end - and only because she wanted him okay. For some unknown reason, Elodie Verbeck actually meant that.

Updated Note - the dialogue's a little messy, I'll clean it up later so it's not so clunky, but I wanted to get this update out asap. My internet's been down and my emotional health has been in shambles with it, so I wasn't able to post this, but here we are! And, there's a new cover, which I made and I'm pretty happy with. 

Thank you for reading; let me know what you think!