No good deed goes unpunished
Ran x reader
She could see her breath in the air, drawing her coat even closer around her body as she left the hospital.
The shift had been gruelling and the knowledge of having to check her bank account sounded ghastly. The idea to buy herself groceries without checking the balance however seemed like the worst idea of all. Followed by the idea of studying Med. Residency was literally dragging her through the mud. The soles of her feet ached as she made her way down the hill. Why there wasn't any public transports at this hour anymore would be a question forever remaining unanswered. She really should have taken the bike even if the idea of driving up the hill to the hospital in the morning had sounded like a nightmare.
Yawning, the young woman started searching for her earphones that were somewhere in her bag. Fuck she just wanted to eat, take a hot shower and fall face first into her bed. Maybe she'd even be able to scrounge up enough money at the end of the month to afford a massage? Treating herself sounded like a dream.
She had just put her first earphone in as she walked by the badly lit alley. It was the sole reason why she had even heard it in the first place, rudely shoving every thought out of her head.
Halting and putting the earphones back inside their case she listened once more.
That sounded like a groan. A pained one too.
Glancing inside the alleyway she tried to make out anything inside the dark. As her eyes slowly accustomed to it she started to be able to make out a figure. It seemed like it was leaning against the left wall just out of the way of the only dimly lit street light.
Biting her lip she considered her options. She could just keep walking. She could get home, make herself the instant noodles she had decided would be enough for today and head to bed.
She wouldn't be able to sleep though, would she? There would be this nagging voice inside her head asking if they had been injured, maybe needed help?
But in today's day and age everyone had a phone. So they could probably call an ambulance themselves if it was that bad, right?
Nodding to herself she took the first step away from the sound only to stop again.
There were many reasons someone wouldn't be able to use their phone.
She'd also swear an oath to either help or do no harm. If she were to leave now she wouldn't just not help, she'd very much be not helping them. Even as a citizen she had the duty to do first aid to the best of her ability and call an ambulance if need be.
Sighing to herself she turned on her heel and walked down the street with purpose.
The uncharacteristic sound of two distinct clicks made her stop shortly. What was that? Gulping she took another smaller step until she stood under the light of the lamp. And from there she could see the predicament she had just gotten herself into.
She should have gone home.
On the wall in front of her there was a man leaning against it. Even though he was slightly crumbled into himself she could tell that he was tall. His legs were strewn in front of him dressed in an expensive looking pair of violet trousers. One of his hands was pressed into his side, the white dress shirt turning dark around his fingers.
Before she could come closer something shiny in his other hand that laid on the floor drew her attention.
That was a gun.
Fuck. That was a gun.
She had never seen a real life gun in her life before.
Her eyes shot up to look at his face for the first time.
His hair was a weird mess of lilac and black and his eyes half closed and yet sharp could probably be described as bedroom eyes. All in all he did not look like a police officer even in the slightest. She was pretty sure they weren't even allowed to have dyed hair.
He was starting at her. Had he been staring this whole time?
“What can I help you with, Doll?” His voice was rough and there was a lazy lilt in it. His hair previously probably pushed back with gel was falling into his eyes.
She had never seen this cruel looking eyes.
Should she really help him?
Fucking hell he looked like a gangster, talked like a gangster, he probably was a gangster. Before she could think herself into a frenzy she bored the nail of her middle finger harshly into the flesh of her thumb. In the end it wasn't her decision any more. She had found him and now she had to help him. End of story.
“I think the better question is how I can help you.” She finally told him putting on her brave face while slowly coming closer
She could see him draw up one perfectly plucked eyebrow as she kneeled next to him.
The young woman told him her name, easily falling back into the routine she knew thanks to her time in residency. The Autopilot was on at last as she carefully pulled his hand away “I'll try and see what I can do here. You probably should go to a doctor though.”
“What,” he asked, an amused air to his tone “you a nurse or something?”
“I'm a doctor in training. So please, let me have a look.”
She could feel his eyes looking her up and down. “Try anything and I'll kill you.” He said with a short nod to the gun in his hand before letting her proceed.
Now wasn't that just nice. Why had she given him her name again?
As she forced her tired bones to get to work she could feel his gaze on her the whole time. It was unnerving. Would he kill her if she snapped at him to look literally anywhere else?
“Ya know if all Doctors looked like this I'd probably visit the hospital more.”
She didn't react to his words. Similar things were often said and frankly she had stopped caring a long while ago. Instead she focused her attention on his side. She'd need to cut away from the shirt. And by the looks of it get the bullet out before she'd have to stop the bleeding. That would hurt.
“I can only do so much from here. I don't have anything to stitch you up, but I can get the bullet out. Do you have someone you can call to pick you up?”
“Lost my phone somewhere between getting shot and crashing here, I'm afraid.”
How could he sound this nonchalant? God what was wrong with him? That stupid lilt was starting to drive her insane and not in the good way either.
“Alright,” she sighed, “is there someone I can call then?”
At that he grinned. “Atta girl. Gimme your phone and do what you gotta, Doll.”
“Could you stop with the nicknames? I did tell you my name.” She finally grumbled as she got to work after handing him her phone. If there was one thing she couldn't stand it were nicknames given by strangers.
“Must have escaped my notice. You know, being shot and all.”
She did her best not to roll her eyes at him. Something told her that he was one of those people that didn't appreciate it.
“Rin, it's me.” She could hear him speak into her phone again after a short pause, “yeah, I ran into some trouble. Gonna need a pick up. Nah I'm good-”
No he would not. As she was fishing for the bullet she purposely bend her fingers just so, making him hiss in pain. This man needed an actual doctor, not just someone who wasn't even fully trained.
“Fucking hell,” he grit his teeth staring her down with an angry glare that nearly made her shudder as she went back to carefully getting the bullet, “I might need the doc on standby,” he grumbled through clenched teeth, making a smug grin appear on her lips.
“Nah don't think it's anything too serious, I was shot in the side. Just get over here.”
With that the girl could hear the beeping sound of the call disconnecting.
“You're a sadistic little bitch, aren't cha?”
Did this man not know manners? Thankfully for him she finally had a grip on the bullet and couldn't afford to retaliate. “If by sadistic you mean getting you the help you need, sure.” She instead told him this time with an eye roll.
His hand shot around her chin tipping her head up.
“Do you actually want the bullet out-,” she started exasperated only to stop her sentence.
The look in his eyes was shooting goosebumps up her arms. She had been right. He didn't appreciate disrespect even if it was as small as rolling your eyes at him.
“You're a pretty little thing.” He mused to himself before finally letting go of her chin. There was something about the way he had said it that made her heart rate pick up. It was the most threatening thing she had heard in her life. Fuck she should have just kept walking.
As he slowly loosened his grip around her chin she could have sworn to still feel his fingers seconds after they had left her face. His grasp had been strong. Frighteningly so.
“Back to work, Doll. I'd like this bullet out once the actual doc arrives.” The smile that was back on his lips didn't betray the cruelty that had shown through his eyes just seconds ago.
Gritting her teeth she forced her eyes away from his and back to the gaping wound. How could one man be this infuriating?
“There.” She said with finality in her voice as she showed him the bloody bullet. “I'll dress it up now, but your doc will have to do the actual work. I'll need you to sit up a bit so I can take off your jacket and shirt.”
“What,” he asked jokingly, while sitting up with her help, “not even gonna ask me out to dinner first?”
Closing her eyes for a second she breathed out through her nose. Yeah, she walked straight into that one.
As she started unbuttoning his shirt she did her best to let her eyes not wander on the tattoo on his neck. It seemed familiar and something in her gut told her she wouldn't want to know, that if she did remember it would probably be over for her. It apparently wasn't the only tattoo this man had, she realized the more she could see of his chest.
It was a pretty ches- NO. That was weird, she was not going there.
Finally finished with the buttons she ripped her eyes away from him busying herself to find something inside her back she could use as dressing. Maybe if she cut up her work clothes? That could work.
And during the whole process she could feel his eyes on her. Fuck, she'd kill him herself if they ended up haunting her in her sleep.
“How many years of training do you still have left?” He suddenly asked when she was back to leaning above him.
How was this man still talking? She should have duct taped his mouth.
“About six months, then I'm taking my finals,” she told him absent-mindedly finally tying the rest of what was once her uniform around his lower abdomen. And pulling his shirt up his shoulders once more.
“There you go. Will you be fine on your own until your friends are coming?”
The man leaned back. “What, not helping me get to the car?”
Finally out of his reach she rolled her eyes at him, feeling the slightest bit defiant. “Don't push it,” she told him clearly, gathering up the rest of her things.
“Aren't you forgetting something?” He asked mockingly after she had already turned away from him.
Frowning she turned back around and sighed at the sight of him waving her phone around.
Just as she leaned down to him to take her phone, the hand currently not holding it snaked around her wrist lightning fast pulling her even further down until she was back to kneeling next to him.
“You're a feisty little thing. You really should be careful. It might get you into trouble with people that are less forgiving than me.”
Something told her that forgiveness wasn't something he was good at.
With that he finally let go of her and her phone. She scrambled to get away from him.
“Well, I'll see you around, Doll.”
His words send a shiver down her spine. No he would not see her around. Frankly this man scared her. Shit why had she told him her name?
His chuckle at her hurried exit would probably follow her into her nightmares tonight.
The young woman had done her best to forget about the man's existence once she had closed the door to her room and had fallen into bed.
The epiphany about why the tattoo on his neck had seemed familiar came to her one morning before she would have to head to work. She was munching on a piece of bread with strawberry jam, reading the news when she stumbled across the article.
Organised crime.
A syndicate named Bonten.
And the executives all seemed to have the same damn tattoo.
The tattoo that that Man had worn proudly on his neck.
Fucking hell. She had helped a Gangster.
The jam turned to ash in her mouth, the bread suddenly too dry as she reached for her glass of water. The vitamin D tablet she usually took with it long forgotten as she gulped it down.
What would happen now? Would he come back? Surely not if she simply remained quiet. No police, no frantic actions, no nothing. She'd just have to go about her days in peace and forget, correct?
Sadly, the man seemingly didn't want to be forgotten.
It took a week for them to meet again. It had been after a grocery haul after her morning shift, since her fridge was once again close to empty and going out to dinner wasn't an option. She had planned to pour over her textbooks while eating after all.
As she walked down the hall to her apartment, she realised that her front door was open. It made her seize up before arguing with herself that she had been so tired in the morning she had probably just forgotten about closing it correctly – it wouldn't be the first time after all – and if a poor sod actually had broken in, then maybe he could help her find something valuable. So, chuckling at herself she simply thanked God for being able to kick her door open further without having to set down her grocery bags and get her keys out.
The woman only stopped in shock, after looking inside the kitchen and finding a suited man stuck with his head in her fridge rummaging around in it. Before she could decide what her next step would be, probably throwing the groceries into his face and making a run for it, the man turned around and she could see who it was.
The man from the alley. This time no injury, just a grating smile on his far too attractive face.
He had found her.
He had made an effort to search for her.
If that wasn't unsettling, she didn't know what was.
“You brought food,” He called out as if had been waiting for her, “I was getting kinda worried looking at your fridge, you really shouldn't make financial cuts when it comes to food. You already look like I could break your neck with one hand.”
Staring at him she wasn't quite sure how to react. Surely to throw the frozen fish at him would buy her some time, right?
“No need to get defensive,” the man spoke again, while leaning against her small kitchen isle, a cup next to him that she was sure she hadn't used the past days.
“I've come to give you my thanks, doll. You see apparently I was in a tight spot and you really helped me out.”
One brow drawn up she slowly nodded at him, her face slowly loosing all it's previous colour from the walk up to her apartment. “Yeah sure,” she started haltingly, “no problem. Get out now, please? I have a lot to do.”
The man sighed. “I was never received this coldly by someone I didn't hurt. Makes a guy feel a bit special ya know? The name's Ran. Pleasure to meet you properly, doll.”
He was one of those then. One of those overly friendly men you should steer clear off. How would she get him out of her apartment?
“As I've said before,” she started again this time through gritted teeth trying to the best of her abilities to remain civil and not like the deer in headlights she felt like, “it wasn't a problem. Now if you could,” her head moved, signalling to the front door, “please?”
Ran sighed, before she watched his hand go into the pockets of his pants. He looked out of place in his expensive wear and something about it made the young woman feel self-conscious.
She watched, as the man – Ran, pulled out his wallet and started counting out a few notes.
“This should be alright for compensation and keeping as quiet as you have the past weeks, yes?” There was something in his eyes as he put the money on the table. A glimmer. He seemed to find sadistic joy in her worried state.
Gulping down the lump in her throat she didn't take her eyes off him as she nodded.
“My god, you're absolutely adorable. Maybe I should keep you. Call me if you're interested in a date.” With that he left the house, leaving her breathless after he had walked by her far too close making her aware of every muscle moving and letting her catch a whiff of his perfume. Surely something disgustingly expensive too.
Her body was shaking by the time she heard the door close behind him and she finally allowed herself to move into the kitchen and put the groceries on the isle.
Next to the money.
Well, hush money.
Holy shit, that was hush money.
Fuck, what had she gotten into?
How could a man look so much like a panther waiting to pounce on its prey.
She nearly overlooked the piece of paper with a number written on it – his handwriting was apparently appalling, as she went to throw the money away not even bothering to look at how much it was.
If she would have had any inclination to meet him again she probably would have kept it to throw back into his face – though that might be seen as an offence so that probably wouldn't be the wisest thing to do - but since that wasn't the plan the bin it was.
Right along with his number.
If she had to see that disgusting smile again in her death it would still be too early.
That night she put her textbooks onto the coffee table in her living room instead of the kitchen table since she had caught herself throwing glances at the bin, as if that would make him appear out of thin air again. It had reached a point where she had actually brought the paper bin outside only to feel guilty right before throwing the money away.
Someone could probably use that, right? That was the money's chance to finally do something not bloody. Maybe she'd just give it to the next homeless person she saw? Maybe a shelter? Throwing it away out of spite though felt wrong. And so, the only thing actually landing in the trash was his number – good riddance to that – the money on the other hand was now sitting once more on the fucking counter making it impossible to concentrate which is why she then moved her study sesh one room over. The coffee table was too low. Her back would ache in the morning but everything was better than constantly throwing glances that way.
That night, as she laid in bed the clock nearing one am, then two, she realized that she'd need a new lock. She didn't feel safe anymore. There was something particularly intrusive about knowing he had stood inside her kitchen, searched through her fridge and drunken her coffee.
That night she had dreamed of running through the darkness, while a far too familiar grin stalked after her. She woke up just as long lithe fingers found their way around her neck burning her skin.
Abandoning every thought about him, had worked for about two more weeks – work and Uni doing everything they could to remind her of her very real responsibilities, until she had come home from dinner with a friend the Monday after it had been the clean the flat weekend.
It was an important detail because after having pulled of her heels from blistered feet she had walked into her living room intending to fold the laundry that was still left over while watching a show and letting the day finish with a glass of cheap wine – she had recently started to drink a bit more wine at night, it kept the nightmares at bay, but that was a problem for after exams – it was an important detail because on her freshly cleaned couch there was a dead guy who was ruining it with his blood.
There was a dead guy in her fucking apartment.
Bleeding onto her clean carpet.
Pinching herself she tried to make sense of the scene.
“And here I'd thought you'd come home too late. Put this man back together will you?” Her head shot up at the sadly recognisable voice.
That had to be a joke, right? It could not be that asshole sitting on her living room chair having the gall to look like he belonged there.
“What are you doing here?” She hissed between her teeth.
One of his infuriatingly perfect brows rose a bit as he looked at her. She swore his eyes were telling her that she was stupid.
“Guy on your couch. Fix him up for me, sweetheart.” He repeated himself once more.
Rubbing her temple with her index finger she looked at the man on her couch.
“As much blood as he is leaving on my leather couch, might I add, I doubt he is still alive. And don't you have a fucking doctor for that? How dare you just come to me with this shit. I want nothing to do with you!”
Ran chuckled. “See and that's why I like you. So much bite. As your luck has it, that is our doc. Or better yet it was. You see he did some stupid things and now one of my colleagues had to squeeze him just a little bit for answers. So, fix. Him. Up.” The last part of his sentence came out in a bite.
What the fuck was wrong with this man?!
Cautiously the doctor still in training made her way over to the body. How was she supposed to fix that? Why was she even fucking fixing it. That man was not her fucking problem!
“You do know I'm not a hospital or an actual doctor yet, right?” Maybe reminding him would help? Fuck, why was she not less competent? She should have let him out to bleed to death that night
Ran simply shrugged, “Call it hands on practice then.”
Sighing she got to looking at the man bleeding out in front of her. Sure. Hands on Practice. Because that was just absolutely fucking normal. It was absolutely normal to have a man bleeding out on her own couch. And it was absolutely normal to call that hands on practice.
As she got to work, she realized with shame that her hands were shaking the same way they did back that night in that alley.
Oh she should have just kept going. She should have ignored ever hearing his damn pained voice.
Instead of doing all the sensible things though she made stock of the damage and made a list inside her head what she had to do.
“You know,” Ran interrupted the silence, “ you really gotta learn how to feed yourself. I'm pretty sure you've gotten thinner in the time I last saw you which is an absolute shame might I add? What have you used the money on I gave you?”
What was his obsession with her eating habits?!
“I'm concentrating here!” She snapped at him, damn all the consequences, right? After all he did want something from her.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see the lazy grin stretching out his mouth further as his hands went up in mock surrender.
“Of course, Princess. I forgot you're very much still in training. Take your time. Maybe not too much though. Don't think you're able to explain a dead person in your living room to the police, right?”
With that she could see him leaving the room only to hear him rummaging around in another room.
What the fuck was wrong with him.
Fucking hell. First thing she'd do once he left was find another flat. Maybe change her name too.
Two hours later she collapsed next to the couch. She had done everything she could. The worst should be over. Looking down she realized that there was blood on her blouse.
Her favourite blouse.
It was a beige blouse.
There was blood on the leather of the couch. And some on the carpet. It was a green one.
And now there was blood on it.
And on her blouse.
It had been a present from a friend.
And now there were ugly red splotches on it.
For some reason that was what made her cry.
It was three in the morning just the weekend after she had cleaned and mopped her whole flat, washed down the windows had gotten the flowers rearranged and now there was blood on her and on the carpet and on her leather couch.
Everything was ruined.
And there was exactly one person to blame for this situation.
Before she could start to think, because she evidently wasn't, she had jumped up from her position on the floor and stormed into the kitchen where Ran was leaning against the counter.
“”How dare you!” She screamed, with a finger raised at him. “Who do you think you are? You can't just, just storm into my life, break into my flat, deposit a man on my fucking couch and then then,” she stopped for a short second only now realizing that he was again holding a cup in his hand, partially raised to his lips as he looked down on her with this, this, this disgusting self satisfied smirk on his lips. “ You are drinking my coffee?” She asked, voice low, “you are fucking drinking my coffee?! What the fuck is wrong with you?”
She had evidently lost all her brain cells as she reached out to grab it from him only for her hand to be intercepted by his, the satisfaction that was once on his face had vanished and in it's place there was Nothing.
His face was void of any and every kind of emotion. She didn't know what he was thinking. It was such a stark contrast that she didn't even try to get her wrist out of his hand.
He held eye contact when he took a sip from the coffee and he held eye contact when he put the cup down.
Only then, did he begin to speak once more.
“Now then. I know you're young. What 25, 26? Something like that. So I will disregard the blatant disrespect just now, if you apologize. Have I made myself clear?”
Gulping she tried taking a step backwards only to be roughly pulled back by her wrist still encircled in those awful fingers.
He clicked his tongue at her before whirling her around and slamming her against the counter. That would surely leave a bruise.
“Now,” he started again, the free hand finding the buttons to turn on the stove, “I had an extremely long day and I know you did too, so I'll be gracious and give you one last chance. Apologize for your behaviour or well.” She followed his eyes as they flickered to the slowly heating up stove.
What was he?
There was a second where his eyes flickered between the stove and her hand still pinned by his and back at the stove.
He wouldn't, right? Surely, he - “Don't try my patience.” He answered her unspoken question as if he had read her mind.
Gulping she slowly nodded.
“I'm, “she started swallowing the lump in her throat. She just had to apologize. She just had to get rid of her pride for one second and she'd be fine.
“I'm sorry.”
By the way he stared at her it was obviously not enough.
God that fucking asshole.
That fucking disgusting -
“I'm sorry for exploding like that. You're right. I'm tired it was a long day and fixing up the man must have made me emotional. I'm sorry.”
The pressure on her wrist was slowly letting up but he still hadn't let go and he was still looking at her expectantly. What did he want to hear? She had said she was sorry, she had sounded positively pathetic doing it as well.
“Sir,” he provided with that self satisfied look.
Sir? What was that supposed to-
He was kidding right?
He had to be kidding.
One look at his face made her grit her teeth. The man was actually serious. That bastard son of a bitch actually wanted her to -
The movement of her wrist slowly being turned towards the stove had her stop in her track.
She could curse him later.
“I'm sorry, Sir.” She said through gritted teeth.
Evidently it was enough, since he finally let go of her wrist. His hand instead ending up on her head in a patronizing head pat.
“See, isn't it easy to just do as your told? You know, I really don't like hurting pretty things. But I will if I have to. Remember that the next time you try disrespecting me. Alright?”
With that he turned around and left the kitchen, leaving her pressed against the kitchen counter her left hand coming too close to that fucking stove and nearly burning herself if she hadn't realised the heat coming too close.
With shivering hands she turned the stove off.
There was something seriously wrong with this man. She'd call the police and report him the minute he had left the flat. She should have done it after he had broken in the first time. Fuck the consequences. She'd have to leave the country anyways. Might as well leave a nice present for him to clean up after. It might even buy her some more time.
Trying to breath calmly she grabbed onto the counter harshly her fingers turning white with the effort of keeping herself upright. She'd collapse once there wasn't a fucking psychopath inside her flat anymore.
“You'll do well, stubborn little thing.” Ran commented as he strolled back into the kitchen the sound of additional footsteps only reaching her brain vaguely. .
No she would definitely not. She would in fact do so bad that it was the worse he had ever seen. And she didn't even know what he was talking about.
As he came closer and reached out to her she flinched back harshly only to then realise that he had once again grabbed the coffee cup.
It made him smile.
Her fear made the bastard smile.
God she wanted to kick him in his balls. She wanted to take a knife out of the stupid knife block and drive it through his stupid knee.
She watched numbly as another man dressed in a suit walked through the hallway this time with the doctor she had just patched up.
Would they torture him again? This time to kill him off for real?
“Alright,” the bastard started as he leant back against the table as the front door closed once more. She wouldn't call him anything else now, she had decided. The name fit him too well, “ you did a good job with the doc, pretty. So I'll tell you what is going to happen. Tomorrow you'll take your pretty little butt into the hospital and hand in your resignation. You'll come home after that and someone will be here to take you with them. You won't make any kinda noise about it. You'll be a good little doc and then you'll start working for us. Understood?”
God this man had lost it completely. Fuck no.
Looking at the wall behind him she nodded, not wanting to look into his eyes. He smiled at her and pat her cheek once more.
“That's what I like to hear. Well little dove, it was a pleasure doing business with you. I'll see you in the evening.”
She watched him leave. Through the front door. Like he was just a normal man.
Just as the front door closed one final time she collapsed onto the floor.
Her brain both racing and not comprehending anything at all she only knew one thing for sure.
She had to leave. She had to leave the country and never come back.
Fuck.
As the young woman was scrambling about in her flat, throwing clothes into a suitcase, she never realised that outside, Ran stood. A cigarette in his hand, head tilted up as he watched her flat light.
He was waiting. Fuck he hoped she would panic. Chasing her through a few streets would be so much fun. Maybe Sanzu actually had had a point there.
