#the header literally is so irrel i just wanted it 2 look Pretty on the dash NSAIDABNJ

[rothane]

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Gang violence, violence against women and violence in general. Nothing super graphic and it’s honestly mostly just fade to black and implied, but just to be safe. References to arson and housefires in part one.

NOTES: Technically the first half should have been posted a week ago but I did not get that far lmao so now it’s just all in one. I didn’t proof read so good luck ig.

TLDR; The man Georgia shot last week approached Ro for help in the hospital parking lot and she turned him down; a week later the Rogues beat her ass.

FEBRUARY 5, 2021 / MIDNIGHT

With fires breaking out all over town, the medical center had been all hands on deck. Rowan was sure she broke every traffic bylaw in the book on her way there, hastily dropping all four children off with her parent’s and barely managing to give them a rundown on what was happening. Her heart felt like it was in her throat when she left, unsure what kind of fresh hell she was going to be walking into when she got there and trying to plan for the absolute worst case scenarios. House fires are always tricky. She has a hard time putting herself in her patients shoes, finding herself walking a balanced line of emotional and professional while she keeps it together for all of their sake, even if she knows she’ll cry when she gets back in her car at the end of the night. It’s getting exhausting --- every day seems like it just brings a new battle for them, and honesty she isn’t sure how much longer the town is going to be able to stay standing.

Her shift at the hospital goes by exactly as she thinks it will. She holds herself together amongst all of the tragedy, delivering care to her patience with professionalism and empathy for their situations. It’s difficult to leave them at the end of the night, knowing that they’ve just had their entire lives ripped out from under them. Harper doesn’t have a home to go back to tomorrow when she’s released, the last memory she had of her fiance having literally gone up in flames right in front of her. Her niece will be staying at the hospital for at least a week, if not longer. Her little body has taken far more damage than it should have, leaving her lungs compromised and her breathing in need of assistance. Rowan knows, sadly, that this is only the start of a long journey of recovery for the little girl not to mention her brothers and her mother, who are all sure to have some sort of PTSD from the ordeal. Part of her doesn’t want to leave at all, knowing that her best friend and her sister could both use the support of her there but honestly, she’s running on fumes and she just can’t stay there any longer. So she makes her rounds and says her goodbyes, promising to be back in the morning and takes her leave.

When she finally makes it down to the parking lot, she’s so tired she isn’t paying attention to her surroundings. It’s something that she can practically hear her husband scolding her about, but in the moment all she can think about is going home, taking a shower and sinking into bed for the next six hours. She’s pulled from those longing thoughts, however, at the feeling of a hand on her shoulder. She nearly drops her keys, letting out a yelp as she spins around to see who it is. She doesn’t recognize either of them. A man and a woman in cuts she can only assume say Rogues on the back of them, the man clearly in need of medical attention as what looks to be a bullet wound on one of his arms seeps blood onto the concrete around them.

“He needs help.”

Rowan barely hears the words over the sound of her heart beating in her chest and she’s already mentally calculating how long it will take her to turn around and get into her car. She’s pretty sure she can outrun them, given the state the man is in but she has no idea if they’re armed or not -- though she has a feeling it’s leaning more toward the former.

“He needs to go inside. The doctor on call will take care of him.”

The response that comes is what she had been expecting, but she backs up enough that her back is against the SUV when the woman begins speaking again. “We’re not here to have a paper trail followin’ us. We know you work for the club off the books. You’re gonna do the same for us.”

Before Rowan has a chance to properly respond, the man makes a noise of pain. His partner is distracted, giving Rowan a window of opportunity to make her move and within a split second, she’s slamming the door behind her as she gets into her car. A second later, the door handle is being violently yanked on, and she glances out the window to see the man slumped against a car a few rows away and the woman banging on the glass.

“If you leave now you’re gonna regret it.”

But it falls on deaf ears, shaking hands moving to put the car into drive, tires screeching as she flies out of the parking lot and watches her figure get smaller in the rearview. For a moment, she wonders if the whole thing had been some kind of exhaustion induced hallucination, sure that something like that couldn’t have actually just happened. But the blood streaked handprint on her window is a difficult reminder that, unfortunately, it had been very, very real. A string of curses leave her lips before taking a deep breath, fighting off the urge to vomit and while she wants to head straight home, Rowan knows better. While she had only seen two people, who really knows just how many members of the Rogues had been there and she picks up her phone to call Ryder while taking random turns on the off chance that someone is tailing her.  Ten minutes later she finally gets home, Ryder having met her in the driveway and his presence is more than enough to keep her from completely losing her shit.

FEBRUARY 14, 2021 / 7 PM.

Rowan is late --- something she doesn’t do very well with. A follow up appointment with a patient from a few weeks ago having gone over time and left her scrambling to change out of her scrubs and into her dress in her office bathroom. When she finally comes out, still struggling to get her shoes on, she can tell the prospect who has been stuck with babysitting duty is anxious. It’s clear in the way he checks his watch for the third time since he sat down in the patient’s vacated seat, and the way he can’t stop bouncing his leg.

“You got a hot date waitin’ on you, Todd?” She teases him gently, and his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

His voice is higher than usual when he answers back, sheepish and uncharacteristically shy at being called out. “My girlfriend. She made dinner tonight, and she’s not a real patient lady.”

“Sounds familiar,” she snorts in response, finishing the buckle on her shoe and slipping her jacket up and over her shoulders. Todd is still just a prospect and obviously has a ways to go before he actually finds himself patched in and able to give his girlfriend the Old Lady title but if she’s as impatient and stubborn as he has lead her to believe over the weeks, Rowan has a feeling she’ll be able to hold her own more than well enough.  “I’ll make you a deal, once we get down to the parking lot we can part ways. I’m just goin’ over to the restaurant anyways, there’s no need to follow me.” It’s clear that he’s about to protest, surely going over the laundry list of threats her husband has made over the last month and Rowan is quick to interrupt. “It’ll be our secret. If you make it home on time maybe you can still get lucky tonight.”

And that has him embarrassed enough that the poor kid doesn’t bother arguing anymore. Instead, they take the elevator down to the main floor where Rowan signs out and they take their leave. His motorcycle is parked next to her car, and they exchange goodbyes and Rowan gets in one more teasing jab about him having a goodnight before the two of them take separate exits. The drive to the restaurant is less than twenty minutes, and Rowan figures if she speeds, she can make it in twelve. But judging by the flashing lights behind her, she has a feeling that hadn’t been her greatest idea. She curses under her breath, pulling over to the side of the road as what she assumes is a police cruiser pulls up behind her. She fumbles to get her license and registration out after rolling the window down and she’s already spewing an excuse when someone approaches the door.

“I know I was speedin’. Sorry, office I---”

But it dies on her lips when the person leans forward and she sees the same woman from a week earlier. “Hey sweetheart. Remember me?”

The words have her blood running cold, but before she can think of an escape plan the familiar feeling of fingers tangling in her hair pulls her back to the moment, her face coming down with a harsh blow to meet the steering wheel. “You should’ve just helped us when you had the chance.” Rowan’s already disoriented, though she begins to fully panic when her door is flung open and she is pulled from the vehicle. After that, everything seems to be muted and dark, she’s barely aware of what is going on around her and she passes out after only a few moments. Two hours later, she wakes up back at the hospital --- this time finding herself in a paper gown and a hospital bed, a heart monitor beeping steadily beside her.