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Patching Up My Heart

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“Oh my God, nobody is ever going to let me forget this.”

There are running steps, and then someone she doesn't recognize standing over her—the blonde woman who was yelling after the kid in the first place, before the kid proved to be the most badass nine-year-old Raven has ever met and sucker-punched her and then pushed her into a wall. “Are you hurt?”

Raven props herself up on her elbows and glares at the cane off to her side. “Not a lot more than before. Hit my head. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just missing my purse.” She purses her lips and crouches down next to Raven, helping her sit up. “Thanks for jumping in like that, the kid was fast and I couldn't catch him. You're bleeding, I should get you to a hospital.”

“Fuck that, it's not a concussion or anything, I just need an ice pack and a beer.” Raven hisses when the woman prods at her skull. “Hey, I need that, keep your hands to yourself, are you a medical professional?”

That gets her some really impressive raised eyebrows. “I would offer to show you my ID, but it's probably three blocks away by now. Clarke Griffin, nurse practitioner.” Clarke looks like she's thinking about shaking Raven's hand, but she looks off into the distance instead and sighs. “Kid's out of luck, I used the last of my cash getting a cab earlier. Look into my eyes?”

Raven finds herself treated to a brisk examination with every scrape cataloged even if she refuses to let Clarke near her leg. It doesn't feel like anything got knocked out of joint, and it takes her weight as much as it ever does when Clarke helps her to her feet, so she's good. “Seriously, I'm fine, and you've got some credit cards to cancel. Was your phone in your purse? Need mine?”

“I don't think you're concussed, but I don't feel comfortable leaving you on your own at the moment. Is there anyone you can call?”

“Literally what I just asked you, Blondie.” Raven dusts off her cane, which she definitely needs to upgrade if she can't even take out nine-year-olds with it. Maybe she can add some kind of supervillain net thing that could shoot out the end. Or she could get a sword cane. Nobody messes with a woman with a sword cane.

Clarke shakes her head, brow furrowing. “Your medical care is more important than my wallet. I'll cancel all my credit cards later, my contract is almost up on my phone, and the second he finds my tampons he'll probably drop the whole purse and run anyway.”

Raven snorts. “I like you.”

“I definitely like you, you tried to get my purse back.” Clarke smiles at her, and if she's pretty while she's serious that makes her gorgeous. “Now, what's your name?”

“Are you checking for concussion, or are you just asking?”

“Mostly just asking.”

“In that case, I'm Raven Reyes.” She shifts her cane enough that she can shake Clarke's hand. “And I'm pretty sure of the year and who the president is, plus nothing is blurry or doubled, so I think you can consider your medical duties discharged unless you want to kiss my scrapes better.” And Raven really wouldn't mind if she did. She may as well get something out of this, and Clarke seems like a pretty good something to get, so far. “I think we could both use a beer after that, though, and you can call to cancel your cards and I can call my roommate and ask him to come get me.”

Clarke looks off in the direction the thief ran in one more time, like she can maybe catch up with him after so long, and then she puts her full non-medical attention on Raven. “A beer sounds great, but I can't pay.”

“That's fine, I can.” And then, taking a chance, “You can always pay next time.”

From the way Clarke smiles to herself, the odds seem to be pretty good that injury or not she's going to come out of this with a date. “And then we can talk about me kissing you better.”