Right Through Me

E I G H T

"He wants me to what?" Dr. Lina nearly screeched through the phone, leaning on her kitchen counter for support, her legs readying to give out on her.

"He wants to hire you. To be his personal medical personnel," said Donovan's step-father and trainer, Ethan. "His last emergency helper got scared shitless because of him, never returned after the first fight."

Grabbing her head, she sighed heavily. She was hoping, after what had happened a few weeks ago with Donovan, that that would've been the last time she'd have to see him. Boy was she naive.

"Why me?" she asked. "I own a business. I can't be his personal anything."

"He told me you'd say that," he began, clearing his throat over the phone. "He wants you to work in the evenings, when his fights are. He said your clinic closes around seven, most of his fights start at about eight. For the one's that are earlier, you obviously won't have to be there."

"Is he trying to make fun of me?" Lina finally snapped. "Damn idiot. No. I decline. He's made it very clear in the past that he doesn't want any of my help."

"You're very brave for a doctor," Ethan commented, chuckling. "Donovan is very stubborn, he most likely won't give up on this."

"Tell him to fuck off," she sheathed, finding it too difficult to calm her rage. "Don't call me again about this. My answer is no and will stay no. Please relay that back to Donovan. Have a good evening, Ethan."

With that said, she hung up the phone and slammed it down on the counter. She began pacing her kitchen, chewing her nails nervously and fuming with anger. Donovan had kept his distance up until now, she was almost having faith that her days facing him would be over; guess not. The last thing she wanted to do was become his personal doctor, no way. After he treated her the one time she helped her, she wasn't going to even waste her time.

* * * * *

"You came," Donovan said, a cocky smirk plastered on his bruised face. He was hunched over, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed the Coliseum had. Donovan was already quite enjoying this and it made her even more mad.

Why she came befuddled even her. She was so set on not coming, yet still worried. She watched his fight on TV and came the minute she saw he needed medical attention. She couldn't even control her impulse to help people and by the time she realized what she was doing, she was standing before Donovan, her arms crossed over her chest.

"I shouldn't have come," she muttered, her arms dropping to her sides. She let out a defeated breath and moved over to the medical supplies, washing her hands and putting gloves on. "Why do you want my help? You made a big deal about it before and now? You're begging me to help."

"I don't beg, Lina," Donovan snapped, his cold glare piercing her but she shrugged it off.

"Lay down," she instructed, readying her materials on a sterile tray. Stubbornly, he laid back on the bed, his feet dangling off the edge. Her eyebrows shot up, just how tall was this man?

"Six-six," he answered her question, shutting his eyes.

"Taller than average," she commented, beginning to clean the blood from a gash on his shoulder.

"Do I look average to you, Lina?"

"You've got a point," she said, noticing that in just the few weeks she hadn't seen him, he had, in fact, grown a very short beard. His Mohawk was a bit long as well and he had tied it back in a messy bun.

She snapped out of her trance and pulled a swivel chair up beside the bed, threading a needle and pouring rubbing alcohol on his cut on his shoulder.

"Finally realized you needed some help, didn't you?" she finally said, her confidence growing as she stitched up his gash, watching carefully.

"I wouldn't call this help," he said, his eyes still shut. "It's more of a necessity."

"Yeah, alright. Whatever you say," she said, finishing up her work.

As she bandaged the freshly stitched wound she stared down at his bare chest, staring at the tattoos. He had a big tattoo across his chest that said Gladiator in a very cool font, his shoulders and arms held intricate designs of black ink, a panther head on his abdomen, two twin tigers on each side of his ribs. She tore her eyes away from his tatted body and turned towards his beaten face. She cleaned the small gashes and placed bandages on those too and examined the rest of him.

"Broken bones?" she asked, watching as he opened an eye to glance at her. He shut the eye and let out a breath. "Same rib as before?" he said nothing but she knew that meant a yes.

Sighing heavily, she reaches for the oxygen mask and placed it on him, his eyes shooting open the instant she did. He moved to sit up but she stopped him.

"You need to tell me these things sooner," she said, placing the heart rate clip on his finger and turning the machine on. "That rib is probably puncturing your lung," she said, noticing that his breaths began to come out straggled and wheezy.

He moved to sit up again and the instant he did, he fell back, the wheezing growing louder than before. Cursing, she turned the oxygen mask on and hurried to grab a scalpel. She returned and hurriedly cleaned a spot on his ribs with an alcohol swab and aimed the scalpel between the ribs. Taking a deep breath, she turned to look at Donovan but his eyes were shut and his brows were furrowed.

"This won't feel good," she warned and she pushed the scalpel between his ribs and punctured his lung, allowing for air to come out properly. He gasped for breath, taking a deep one, his eyes still shut tight.

Lina worked quick, she forced the rib back into place and put a tube into the puncture she had made to allow for more airflow. Stepping back, she sighed heavily and sat back on the swivel stool, removing her gloves and placing them in the trash.

"Never seen any doctor work that fast," Ethan commented, stepping into the room and taking a seat in one of the chairs.

Donovan had lost consciousness by now, his heart rate was slow and relaxed and his breathing was still a bit wheezy.

"When you run a clinic that has fifty-plus patients waiting for you everyday, you learn to give quality care in quick time," she explained, washing her hands once again and placing on a fresh pair of gloves.

She removed the tube from his side and bandaged that wound as well, checking the oxygen tank and readying an IV bag.

"It was a good thing you came," Ethan commented. "He was getting in rough shape there, he never listens to me when I tell him to go to the doctor."

"He didn't listen to me when I told him and I'm a doctor," she chuckled, cleaning up her supplies. "I already knew he was a stubborn man but I didn't think he was this stubborn."

"Always acts like a tough guy," Ethan said, smiling and shaking his head.

"He should change that attitude," she commented. "With the business he's in, he needs help, maybe not in the ring, but outside of it. You help him train, he needs help with his injuries. Like with his biker club, I'm sure his members are loyal and would help him without hesitation."

Ethan only nodded and stared down at the man on the bed, chuckling lightly. "You're a good person, Lina. Thanks for helping him."

She nodded, smiling happily. "I'm glad to help," she said. "I'm going to leave while I have the chance. Be sure he takes one of these when he gets up, before he eats. If he's going to fight tomorrow, tell him to take one of these before the fights as well. If anything happens," she said, sighing heavily as she handed him the two medication bottles. "You have my number."

She grabbed her purse and exited the room, heading back home.