When the Rain Washes You Clean, You’ll Know Chapter 1 - When Will I See You Again?

Rating: Mature, 18+

Media: The Nice Guys

Pairing: Holland March/Bianca Andretti (oc)

Word Count: ~9.5k

CW: Hospital/medical, needles, prescription drugs, mild patient/nurse intimacy, mentions of sexual assault/abuse (not descriptive), implied self harm (not descriptive), alcohol, smoking

…

Sunlight is casting over the room in lines, passing through the half-open slats of the blinds over the window. Cigar smoke permeates the room, and on the record player situated against the wall, a Jimmy Buffet album is playing at a low volume. Although it is his workplace office, Jackson Healy feels at home in it, taking a drag from his cigar and tapping the ashes in a thrift store bought ashtray that was once a souvenir from Florida.

As he goes to take a drink from the glass of bourbon on the desk, Healy is stopped by the sound of the phone ringing. Although he knows it's a client, he still sighs in annoyance and trades the glass for the phone.

"The Nice Guys, Jackson Healy here," he answers in his gruff voice, one that suited a grizzled detective like himself.

On the other end of the phone is a girl, twenty something years old, gripping a door frame with one hand and pressing a large gauze pad into her arm with the other. The phone is resting between her shoulder and cheek, and she's shaking violently, her cheeks stained with tears.

However, Healy doesn't know this. He simply hears her ragged breathing, and awaits a response. He considers hanging up after a moment, but finally the girl sniffles and begins to speak.

"M-Mr Healy?" She says shakily, "My Name is Bianca Andretti. I need your help. The Nice Guys' help. I need you to find someone."

"Well, that's what we're here for," he responds, taking another drag from his cigar. "Though I'm gonna have to ask for more details than just "someone." Can I have a name, a description?"

Bianca swallows hard. "N-no…it's actually more than one person. I have some clues for you, but I'd like to deliver them and talk in person. Can I come to your office?"

Healy sighs, exhaling smoke. "If you needed to see us in person, why didn't you just come by instead of calling?"

"I wanted to make sure it was okay," Bianca responds, gritting her teeth in pain. "Can I come by later today? I've got something that needs taking care of…but I can swing by in the afternoon."

"Of course. What's the name again?" He readies a pen and paper.

"Bianca Andretti." She breathes her own name out like it hurts, like she hurts. Healy picks up on this, but doesn't mention it.

"Alright," he says after writing down her name, "we'll see you later today, Miss Andretti. Good–"

"Bye," she says in a fading voice, and the phone clicks off suddenly.

Healy widens his eyes and shakes his head in exasperation and confusion, wondering what exactly was going on with Bianca on the other end. Multiple people, that's what she wanted found, but something told him they'd found her first. She sounded unwell on the phone, like she was being chased or had been injured.

Shaken from his thoughts, Healy jumps slightly when his partner, Holland March, loudly opens the door with a bag of dry-cleaned clothes being held over his shoulder, his daughter Holly following, clutching a book and bag of groceries. She greets Healy with a smile, while her father gets right to complaining.

"Sorry we were late, we had to stop a couple of places," Holland says in an accusatory tone, side eyeing his daughter.

Holly looks back at him incredulously as she places the things in her arms onto a table. "Oh, you mean like the dry cleaners, to pick up your stupid sweater?"

Holland sighs. "The sweater needed to be clean, okay? It's cold out and it's my nicest one, and it was dirty. So I took it to have it cleaned."

"It was only dirty because you got drunk and threw up all over yourself," Holly shoots back at him with a roll of the eyes, then sits down and begins rummaging in the bag of groceries.

Her father groans and throws his arms out. "I had a stomach virus, I wasn't drunk," he tries to defend himself, but Holly just rolls her eyes again.

When he looks to Healy, the other man shrugs, seemingly agreeing with Holly. Holland sighs and hangs his sweater on the coat rack by the door, then heads over to the mini bar across the room.

"See, already drinking and it's barely ten in the morning," Holly mocks him, not looking up from the book she's now reading.

"It's just a little pick-me-up," Holland says with a wave of the hand, pouring himself some bourbon.

"We got a call for a potential case," Healy says from the desk, picking up the note he'd written her name on. "Girl needs us to track down multiple guys. Apparently, she has her own clues to help us out, but not enough to find 'em herself. Sounded pretty distressed on the phone, she's coming by later for an in-person consultation."

After taking a sip, Holland says, "she give you her name?"

"It's, uh, Bianca Andretti."

Holland furrows his brow and taps his fingers on his glass. "Bianca Andretti…Why does that name sound so familiar?"

"I've never heard of her," Healy remarks, tossing the paper with her name on it back on the desk.

Holly looks up from her book. "No, it does sound familiar…maybe if I see her, I'll be able to tell."

Pointing a finger at her, Holland says, "Holly, you don't need to be around for this case, alright? It's multiple guys that apparently hurt her, I don't want you involved in that."

"Hey!" She shouts in defense, "I survived and helped out with the Amelia case, didn't I? I think I can deal with this."

"Now, you involved yourself in that one," Healy points out.

"Yeah, we didn't invite you, you snuck into the investigation. If I'd had it my way, you wouldn't have been involved, even if you did help out." Holland downs the rest of his drink after saying this.

Holly slams her book down on the table and stands up. "Oh, fuck off," she replies with a huff, storming off to the other room– her father's personal office– and slamming the door.

After a few moments of quiet, Healy says softly, "You should go apologize to her."

"Got nothing to apologize for," Holland replies, shaking his head and pouring another glass, "I'm right and she knows it."

Healy tilts his head and glares at him. "You might be right that she shouldn't have been involved at first, but she helped out a lot more than you give her credit for. Just go say sorry."

Like a child, Holland groans and throws his head back in annoyance, then stomps off to his office. Inside, Holly is spinning in his chair, clicking a pen repeatedly.

"Look, I'm sorry for what I said," Holland begins. "You were right. You helped out a lot, and you deserve credit. I'll admit that."

"Will you admit you're an asshole?" She asks with a playful tilt of the head, pausing her spinning and clicking.

With a sigh, Holland admits, "Yes, I am an asshole."

"And you'll let me help with the Bianca case?"

He nods hesitantly. "Yes. But the second that anything gets rough, you're taking a break, okay?"

Holly nods. "Fine."

She then gets up from the chair and tosses the pen back on the desk and follows her dad back into the main office. Healy smiles subtly when he sees they've made up, and Holly returns to her book.

"Alright, she said she's coming in the afternoon," Holland announces when he sits down in the chair next to the desk, "where's my crossword puzzle? I need something to do."

"Oh, I finished that," Healy says, scribbling something on a piece of paper.

"You finished it?!" Holland shrieks, standing up and throwing his arms out. "Why?! That was my fucking puzzle!!"

"I didn't know you actually intended to finish it," Healy replies with a shrug.

Holland throws himself back into the chair and pouts. "Fuck you, man. Finishing my fucking puzzle…"

…

It's about two in the afternoon when there's a knock on their door. Holly has nearly finished her book, Healy has been working on some old files, and Holland has been doing his usual combination of drinking and smoking and not much else.

"Go get the door," Healy says, gesturing at the aforementioned object. "It's Bianca. Let her in."

"Holly, get the door," Holland passes the responsibility, "you're closer."

"Get up and do it yourself," Holly replies, holding up her middle finger but otherwise remaining engrossed in her book.

Holland groans and stands up to answer the door, smacking Holly's hand down. "Most parents would beat their kids for that."

"Good thing you're absolutely nothing like most parents," Holly replies with a smile.

As he opens the door, Holland's eyes widen and his smile does too. "Well, hello, I'm detective Holland March, welcome to the Nice Guys PI agency. Come on in."

Bianca follows him inside and stands near the door awkwardly, holding one arm with the other. The one she's got her hand over is heavily bandaged, but otherwise, she looks just fine. Too fine, Holland thinks, unable to look away from his client.

She's short, about a foot less than him in height, with warm skin and blonde hair, long and straight with curtain bangs. Her eyes are big and deep brown, nearly black, decorated by hastily-applied black makeup. Through her nose is a silver hoop, and below her heart-shaped lips is a Dolly Parton beauty mark. She's dressed in a white nursing uniform, and the neckline is generously revealing.

"So, you must be Bianca," Healy says, rising from his desk chair and coming around to shake her hand. "Jackson Healy. We spoke on the phone."

"Y-yes," Bianca says nervously, taking her hand away from the bandaged portion of her arm and shaking his. "Bianca Andretti. It's nice to meet in person."

"And I'm Holland March," Holland interrupts, shoving his hand in place of Healy's, "the other Nice Guy. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Bianca's face lights up when Holland touches her. "Oh! Holland March, it's so nice to see you ag–"

"The hospital!" Holly shouts, pointing at Bianca. "That's where we know her from, dad!! When Mr Healy broke your arm, remember?"

Holland moves back a bit and puts his hands on Bianca's shoulders, observing her, then nods excitedly. "Yes!! Oh my God, I knew I'd heard your name before!! You gave me painkillers!! You wrote your name on my cast!!"

Bianca nods, her nervousness now replaced with relief and a tinge of joy. "Yeah, I did. Wait, your partner broke your arm? I thought you told me it was "some random thug.""

He laughs and shrugs. "He was at the time. C'mon, sit down, it's great to see you again, God…"

Healy is amused, and takes his seat behind the desk. "Wow, small world. How'd you like dealing with that spiral fracture of the left radius I gave him, huh?"

Bianca scoffs. "A very fun shift in the ER that night."

…

Holly walks into the March household, bag of groceries in her arms. She places them on the living room table, plucking a Yoo-Hoo out of the bag, but nearly drops it when she sees her father lying on the kitchen floor, whimpering and crying.

"Holy shit, dad!!" She calls out, leaning down to his side. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"He sucker punched me!" Holland whines, squirming on the floor. "Just came in here and hit me and broke my fucking arm!"

"Who? That guy outside? He said he was your business associate!"

Holland tries to sit up. "Well he isn't! He came in here and hit me and told me to fuck off the Amelia case!! I didn't even do anything to him!!"

Holly throws her arms. "I gave that asshole a Yoo-Hoo, too, dammit! Ugh…let me see your arm."

Her hands pull at Holland's arm, and he shrieks in pain and pulls it back into himself. "Don't touch it!"

"Dad, if it's that bad, we've gotta get you to the hospital," she says, putting her hands as close as they can be without actually touching his arm.

"No, I'm…I'm good," Holland breathes, trying to stand, only to move his arm in such a way that makes him scream in pain.

Holly grabs him by the back of the shirt and his uninjured arm, and leads him to the door. He doesn't protest, as he's too busy focusing on how much it hurts. She pushes him into the passenger seat of the car and slams the door, then jumps into the driver's seat and starts the car.

As they drive to the hospital, Holland continues his dramatics, and Holly rolls her eyes each time. This is somehow worse than the first incident with that arm, when he cut it open punching through glass– in fact, the skirmish he'd just been in seems to have resulted in that wound being reopened, as the bandage has red seeping through it now.

Once they get to the hospital, Holly has to practically drag her father through the door as he's moaning and wailing about the pain. They approach the counter, Holland leaning on her like a crutch, and the nurse behind the desk raises her eyebrows.

"Can I help you?" She asks.

Holland tries to verbalize what happened, but all he can do is make horrible raspy noises intended to be words. Holly rolls her eyes and answers for him.

"Some guy broke my dad's arm. Apparently it hurts really bad, that's why he can't talk right now." She glares at him for a second, then returns her eyes to the nurse.

The nurse scribbles on a clipboard, then hands it to Holly across the desk. "Fill this out," she says, "then bring it back."

The father and daughter go sit in the waiting room, and Holly begins to fill out the form for her dad. By now, she knows a lot of his information from incidents like this, so she doesn't have to ask him for many answers.

"Do you feel light headed, dizzy, or like you may faint?" Holly asks when she reaches the symptoms checklist.

Holland nods. "All. All of that."

"'Kay. Are you experiencing any nausea or vomiting?"

He shakes his head. "Thought I might in the car, but no."

"I'm tired of asking, can you at least check yes or no on some questions?" Holly asks, holding the clipboard out and offering him a pen.

"Yeah, lemme see," Holland says, taking the pen. He squints at the form, ticking "no" for most of the questions, then signs the bottom of the paper and hands it back to Holly.

She takes it up to the nurse, who skims over it, then nods. "Alright. You'll be called back to the ER soon. Have your father sit tight."

"I'll try…" Holly mutters as she walks away, then sits down beside Holland.

He's back to his dramatics, leaning his head back against the wall and breathing heavily, hissing through his teeth. Holly ignores him in favor of the blurry game show playing on the lobby TV. It takes about half of an episode of Family Feud before the door to the actual ER opens and a blonde nurse says,

"Holland March?"

"Right here," he responds, his voice quavering slightly.

Holland and Holly follow the nurse into one of the bays, or rather what should be a small room if it wasn't only separated from the rest by sheet dividers instead of walls. The nurse puts the clipboard on a shelf behind the bed, and then pats it.

"Come on, let's lie down," she says softly, helping Holland lie on the bed, avoiding touching his arm. "That's right. Are you okay like this?"

He looks up at her, for the first time able to see the details of her appearance, and his eyes widen and he nods. "Oh, I am now."

His daughter rolls her eyes at him. The nurse scoffs, clipping a hospital bracelet on his wrist, and turns to take a pair of gloves from the dispenser on the wall, then pulls them on. She also grabs a blood pressure cuff from a rack on the wall, then goes to wrap it around the upper part of his unaffected arm.

"I'm gonna take your blood pressure now, okay?" She asks, taking the stethoscope around her neck and placing the earpieces where they belong.

"Got it," he says with a strained smile.

The nurse takes his blood pressure, then removes the cuff. Then the stethoscope goes to his chest, and she hears a normal, if not elevated heart rate and clear lung sounds. After draping the stethoscope back over her shoulders, she next grabs a thermometer and Holland instinctively opens his mouth for it, and he gives a slight smirk when she places it under his tongue. The nurse turns and blushes a bit, ashamed that she was allowing a patient to get her flustered during such a simple action.

When his temperature has been taken, she removes the disposable cover from the thermometer and tosses it away before putting up the instrument. She grabs the clipboard from the shelf and scribbles down his vitals, then places it down again and sits on a rolling stool next to his bed.

"So, Mr March, you've got a broken arm?" She asks for confirmation, readying her hands to inspect it.

He nods. "Yeah. Some random thug came into my house, sucker punched me, broke my arm. Says it's a, uh…spiral fracture of the left radius, I think. I totally got in a few hits myself, but…"

"No you didn't," Holly laughs from across the room. "That guy was spotless when he walked out of the house."

Holland glares at her. "No, Holly, it was a fair fight, he just happened to get the upper hand."

"Uh-huh," his daughter responds with a scoff.

The nurse suppresses a laugh and returns her attention to his arm. "I see you've got a bandage on here, there's fresh blood soaking through. Was it an open fracture? You tried to bandage it yourself?"

"No," Holland says, shaking his head, "few days ago, I cut my arm on some glass. The fight must've reopened the wound or something."

She nods and reaches into her scrubs pocket for a pair of bandage scissors. "You mind if I cut this off and take a look?"

Confidently, Holland says, "go ahead, miss…." He squints at her nametag. "Andrea…"

"Andretti," she corrects him, "like Mario. No relation. But you can just call me Bianca. Last names are for doctors."

"Okay, Bianca," Holland says smoothly, "cut that bandage off– OH FUCK!!"

As soon as her hand and the tip of the scissors touch his bandage, Holland is once again shrieking in pain, drawing his arm away from Bianca's reach. She's taken aback by this, and is unsure what to do.

"Mr March," Bianca says calmly, only to be interrupted.

"Please, Holland," he requests through gritted teeth.

Bianca sighs. "Alright, Holland, I'm just removing the bandage. It's not going to hurt at all. I'll be extra careful. Please just give me back your arm."

He groans, in both pain and exasperation, then presents his arm to her. "Fine. You better be careful."

"I will be," she reassures, picking at one end of the bandage so she can lift it. She then slips one blade of the scissors underneath, then cuts off the entire thing.

Beneath lies a large laceration, which had been stitched shut, but a few stitches have come undone and it's ripped open about halfway. It only seeps blood, which is a good sign that there's no arterial involvement, but it's still a problem.

"Woah, okay," Bianca says with a deep inhale, "I'm gonna have to apply a temporary dressing, and that's gonna require pressure, which might hurt your broken arm. Holland, can you promise me you won't act out when I do this?"

Holland nods. "No, no, I'm gonna be cool. It'll be all good, Bianca. Go ahead and do that."

Scooting over to the supplies cabinet, Bianca digs out a pack of sterile gauze and loose bandages, along with a small bottle of water to flush the wound. When she returns, she can see Holland biting his lip in anticipation of the pain.

Bianca first pulls part of the blanket beneath him over his lap, then tilts his arm towards her and aims the tip of the water bottle to his wound. "I'm gonna flush this out with water, okay? It won't hurt at all, just some gentle water. Are you ready?"

"Ready."

Gently squeezing the bottle, letting out water with enough pressure to flush the wound but not irritate it, Bianca cleans it, allowing a mix of water and diluted blood to drip down on the blanket.

Surprisingly, Holland doesn't overreact to this– she was right, it's not as painful as he anticipated. Only a slight sting. What comes next is the worst, as she rips open the sterile gauze package and then places it over the wound.

"Okay," Bianca begins to warn him, "I have to put a little pressure on this. It's probably going to hurt. Can you please remain calm, even with the pain?"

He nods, although he looks away and grits his teeth. "Yeah, yeah, go ahead, I can take it."

"Alright, here goes," Bianca says, then presses the gauze against his arm.

As expected, Holland does not remain calm. He howls in pain and punches the bed with his other hand, making a fist so aggressively his nails bite into his flesh. His eyes flick over to Bianca, who has the most apologetic, sympathetic facial expression he's ever seen, and he calms down just a little.

"I…I'm sorry," Holland says, momentarily taken out of his panic. "You're alright. Just doing your job."

She sighs. "I know, but I can't help but feel bad when I hurt a patient in the process of helping them. Here, I think I've managed to stop the bleeding for now, or at least lessen it. I'm gonna wrap a loose bandage around it, and then the real painful part is going to happen."

As Bianca begins wrapping the bandage around his wound, Holland's eyes widen. "And…and what would that be?"

Bianca looks at him, meeting his gaze in all seriousness. "I have to feel your arm. I need to feel the broken part. And this is going to hurt really, really bad, and I'm sorry about that. I won't do as much as the doctor will when she gets here, but I just need a quick feel."

Holland is taken aback by her eye contact– the whole time they'd been talking, she hadn't looked him in the eyes. He hadn't noticed how big they are, how dark her irises are. So deep brown that they nearly blend into her pupils. In some cases, it would be charming, but right now, it is intense.

"Okay." Holland braces himself for Bianca to touch his arm again, this time keeping his eyes on her.

Palpating as gently as she can while also being able to feel the injury, Bianca winces as she observes Holland's reaction. He's biting his fist, making an odd screeching noise in his throat. But at least he isn't thrashing around, Bianca thinks.

Her hands continue to run over his arm, and she easily feels the broken bone in his arm. A radial fracture, she notes, just like he said, then lets it go and allows Holland to move it where he pleases. He groans loudly and pulls his arm against his chest, now growling into his hand.

"I'm so sorry about that," Bianca apologizes to him as she stands and grabs the clipboard, scribbling down her findings.

Holland momentarily moves his hand from his mouth and waves it in dismissal. "Nah, you're good, you're good," he replies, his voice cracking.

Bianca tilts her head in sympathy. "No, I know it hurt really bad. But at least I can confirm that it's broken. Now, I also see that your nose has some dried blood under it. Do you think it may be broken?"

He shakes his head. "Nah, I've had a broken nose before, this isn't it. If you feel it, it'll be fine."

"Okay," Bianca says in a cautious tone, then gently feels his nose. A nice looking one, she thinks. Sure enough, it's healthy, just a bit bruised, so she leaves it alone.

"It's just fine. Now, I'm going to go grab the doctor, you sit tight," Bianca says as she leaves.

Removing and tossing her gloves as she exits Holland's room, Bianca soon runs into who she is looking for– Dr Bennett. She's taller, more slender than Bianca, but shares a hair color, however hers is tied back into a short ponytail and her bangs are side swept rather than curtain. Her eyes are also an icy blue, in contrast to Bianca's deep brown ones. She wears a white coat over a pair of white scrubs, similar in concept to Bianca's all-white nursing uniform, and it makes the two appear to be two sides of the same coin. Or, at least, like they're on the same team.

"Patient in bay three is a Mr Holland March," Bianca begins, "white male, late thirties. He's got a pretty obvious spiral fracture in the left radius, and a laceration from a previous injury that was stitched shut but got ripped open when the arm got broken. I flushed the wound and applied a temporary dressing, I assumed you'd want to suture it yourself, likely after the imaging is done."

Dr Bennett nods. "I see. You can tell it's a spiral fracture just from palpating?"

"Oh yeah," Bianca says with an exhale, "it's definitely that. Apparently the guy who did it to him told him that's what he'd be breaking his arm like, weird."

She quirks her eyebrow. "He was assaulted?"

"Yeah, some guy broke into his house and beat him up. He also had a nosebleed, but I felt his nose and it's not broken. And, just a warning, he's insanely touchy. Sensitive. Like, shrieks like a girl in a horror movie when you touch his arm. Should I go get some painkillers?"

"Yeah," Dr Bennett says, pulling a prescription pad from her pocket and scribbling on it, "go have the pharmacy get you a bag of IV morphine. I'll have you put in the IV catheter after he's out of imaging. When you bring back the meds, I'll have an imaging order for you to deliver to radiology, then you'll take him over there. That sound good?"

Bianca gives a thumbs up after taking the prescription paper from the doctor. "Buono," she says, then turns and walks away.

After she reaches about halfway to the pharmacy, which is just down the hall from the ER bays, she can hear a high-pitched scream in the distance, and the corners of her lips twitch into a smirk as she realizes Holland is clearly being palpated again. It's not funny, but it is charming, in a way. He is charming, in many ways….

But she shouldn't be thinking this about a patient.

At the pharmacy counter, Bianca slaps the paper down and a technician approaches.

"Hey, Bianca," he greets her, taking the paper and examining it. "Ooh, you've got orders for the good stuff. Is it for whoever was just screaming?"

She sighs and nods. "Yeah, my patient is very…sensitive. Bennett wants a full bag of the painkiller, the paper says it. Can you get me some supplies for that, too?"

The technician nods. "Sure can. I'll be right back."

As she waits on him to return, Bianca sighs and taps her nails against the counter. Her thoughts return to Holland, and not just as a patient. That nose of his, besides the bruising and blood, is just gorgeous. And his eyes, that shade of blue is so pleasant. His hair is messy, but she still finds it cute. And although she'd only seen it in a strained way, his smile seems so bright, so pretty. He is so pretty…

"Here ya go," the technician snaps her out of her daydreams as he places the supplies on the counter. "Got your morphine, plus some tubing and catheter for the IV."

"Ooh, thank you for the extras," Bianca says, taking the objects in her arms. "I owe ya. See you around."

When she returns to Holland's bay, Dr Bennett is holding her head in her hands and Holland is lying back in his bed, squinting his eyes shut and holding his arm. Holly is sitting next to him now, holding his shoulder.

"I, uh, I'm back with the meds," Bianca says, trying to catch Dr Bennett's attention.

She takes her face out of her hands, looking exasperated. "Thank God. Set everything down for now and then go get a wheelchair and take Mr March down to radiology for an x-ray, please. I've got the order here."

Dr Bennett thrusts the paper with the orders into Bianca's hands just after she's placed the medicine and IV supplies on the table. She looks over at Holland, who is still squinting his eyes shut, and instead makes eye contact with Holly.

"How's your dad doing?" Bianca asks.

Holly sighs. "He acted even worse with her. I think he likes you better."

Bianca's face tinges pink. "Oh, uh, is that right…well, he's got to go get an x-ray taken. Mr Ma– I mean, Holland?"

Holland turns and looks at her, smiling when he realizes who it is. "Bianca, it's you…"

"Yes, it's me. I've gotta take you down to radiology, okay? Do you think you can walk with me, or do we need a wheelchair?" She asks, a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Wheelchair, please," he requests. "You're taking me?"

Bianca nods as she heads to the hallway to grab one. "Yes, I am."

She quickly takes a wheelchair from just outside the bay and scoots it beside Holland's bed, then locks the wheels. Looping her arm under his unaffected one, Bianca helps Holland into the chair, then unlocks the wheels and begins to push him.

"Once the x-ray comes back, I'll see you again," Dr Bennett says, getting up to leave before they do. "Until then, Bianca's gonna be with you. Bianca, when you get back, put in the IV and set it to drip one milliliter per hour, please."

Bianca nods. "Of course. And the laceration?"

Dr Bennett sighs. "I'll suture it before they put the cast on. Once the painkillers have calmed him down…"

They part ways, and Bianca pushes Holland in the wheelchair, down the hall to radiology. Along the way, Holland looks up at her.

"You know, I think Dr Bennett is like…your evil clone," Holland says.

Bianca snorts. "How do you mean?"

"On the surface, you've got some similar traits. Blonde hair, you wear all white, you're both medics. But she's got those scary blue eyes, and she's not as gentle as you. When she was feeling my arm, it felt like she was trying to fuckin' break it a second time. But you were nice with it. She also kept telling me to calm down, but she was very rude. You aren't."

The nurse smiles. "I like your observations. You sound like a detective."

He smiles back. "Oh, I am. I'm a PI. I've solved some pretty big cases in my day…"

Bianca raises an eyebrow. "Really now? That's interesting. Are you going to try to track down the guy who did this?"

Holland shakes his head and waves his hand. "Nah, I'm leaving this alone. I do not wanna deal with that guy, ever. Breaks my fuckin' arm this time, what else would he do?"

She lets out a small laugh as they enter radiology. "I see. I wouldn't want to deal with that, either."

Placing the orders for the x-ray on the counter, Bianca knocks on the window. Another nurse approaches and takes the paper, looks over it, and nods towards the door. It opens, and Bianca pushes Holland through it and into one of the x-ray rooms.

"Okay," she says, taking a gown from the cabinets, "you're gonna have to change into this, and take off any jewelry. There's a bathroom over there, and I can hold your jewelry for you."

Holland groans. "Oh, come on, I gotta take off all my clothes just for my arm? Jesus. Here's my ring, can you help me take off my necklace?"

He hands her the golden ring that was on his pinky, and she tucks it into her scrubs pockets. Her hands then undo his necklace, and she puts it in the same pocket. To help him to the bathroom, Bianca once more links her arm under his unaffected one, and walks him up and into it.

When it shuts between them, Bianca leans against the wall and absently plays with the ring in her pocket. She slips it over one of her fingers, noting how much bigger his hands must be compared to hers, until she's shocked out of her fidgeting by his voice beyond the door.

"Hey Bianca?" He calls. "I can't get my shirt off over my arm. Can you please help me?"

Bianca's face turns red immediately. "Oh, uh, yeah. Can I come in?"

"Yeah, door's unlocked."

With a deep breath, Bianca opens the bathroom door and enters the tiny room with Holland, who is only in his underwear and halfway out of his shirt. Bianca forces herself to not be shy, this is a patient for chrissake!

"Here, let me get this arm out first," Bianca suggests, slipping his button up off the unaffected arm. He helps her by wriggling it out, and then she slides it over his affected arm, slowly and gently.

"The undershirt, can you help me pull it over?" Holland asks, looking directly into her eyes, a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Bianca darts her eyes away. "Yeah, sure."

She takes the bottom of his shirt in her hands and pulls it up, sliding the tank top over his body and head and arms. Her hands make contact with his torso, bare skin on bare skin, and she bites her lip, but only for a second.

After it's fully removed, she and Holland are standing close to each other, practically chest to chest. He's smiling at her, and she's just looking at him like a deer in headlights.

This lasts a minute before he says, "are you gonna help me with the gown?"

Snapped out of her trance, Bianca nods quickly. "Y-yeah, of course, yeah. Here."

She helps pull the gown onto Holland's body, slipping both arms through the sleeves gently and stepping behind him to tie the laces on the back. When she's done, she feels like the room is suffocating her, and she's so hot she may start sweating.

"Okay, okay, you're done, let's go get this done," Bianca says to Holland, scooping up his clothes and practically pushing him out the door and onto the table. "Sit still."

Holland does as he's asked and Bianca leaves to the back of the room, where she meets with the technicians. As they speak with him and take the images, Bianca stands behind the glass in the back of the room and tries to cool down.

The intimacy of helping him change in that tiny bathroom, the fact that he was smiling…normally something like this with a patient would mean nothing, but with Holland it's different. Bianca feels like she is going insane. This can't go on.

By the time it's all done, she's managed to stop feeling so hot, but her heart is still beating too fast and she's still thinking about that time in the bathroom. The technicians head to the back room to grab the x-ray films, and Bianca trades places with them to help Holland back into the chair. Once he's back, she wheels him out of there as soon as possible, dreading the small talk she will have to make with him.

"Thanks for helping me with my shirt back there," Holland says on the trip back to his bay.

Bianca keeps her eyes forward. "It's my job to help patients. It was no problem."

"You were good at it. So gentle," he says, "it was very intimate–"

"Okay!" Bianca shouts, trying hard to cut the conversation short, "we're back! Let's get back into bed and I'll start your painkillers, okay?"

"Ooh, yeah," Holland says in excitement, getting up out of the wheelchair on his own.

Bianca slides the table with the supplies to his right side so that she can put the IV in his unaffected arm. After washing her hands in the sink at the back, she pulls on some gloves and begins. She places the bag on the top of the pole, connects the tubing, flushes it with a syringe of saline, then rids it of any bubbles. Next, she screws on the catheter and needle, and sets it aside.

As she takes Holland's arm and manipulates it so she can feel for a vein, she says, "you aren't afraid of needles, are you? Are you going to freak out over this?"

He shakes his head. "No way. I'll be fine."

"Okay," Bianca says, doubting this, but doing her job regardless. After applying his tourniquet, she finally feels a vein that's suitable, then cleans off the area and prepares to stick him. "Are you ready?"

"I'm ready."

"Big stick in one…two…three!"

As she pushes in the catheter and pulls out the needle, Holland is surprisingly calm. Bianca clicks the safety on the needle and tosses it into the sharps bin, then begins applying the adhesives to keep the IV in place. Holland remains strangely calm, so she doesn't question it and adjusts the line so that the IV will drip one milliliter an hour.

"You did surprisingly well, dad," Holly says from the corner of the room.

"I said I'm not afraid of needles, didn't I?" Holland replies. He then looks at Bianca. "You're even gentle when you're sticking needles in me. So when's this gonna start kicking in?"

Bianca heads to the back to remove her gloves and wash her hands. "Soon. It'll make it easier for them to set your arm, and for Dr Bennett to suture your wound back up. I'm gonna stay here and record what I've done."

She takes the clipboard from the shelf, which has been filled in more by Dr Bennett, and begins to write down what has occurred. Absorbed in her work, Bianca's mind is taken off her attraction to her patient, but that's soon changed.

"Hey. Hey, Bianca," Holland calls, his voice heavy with intoxication from the painkillers. "Bianca."

She doesn't look up from the paperwork out of fear that she'll show her feelings. "Yes, Holland?"

He laughs a little, then points at her. "You…you are a real angel, you know that?"

Bianca grips the pen tight in her hand. "Thank you," is all she says in response.

"The angel Bianca," Holland says wistfully, "with her blonde hair and doll eyes and pretty lips….nurse Bianca, the angel…"

"Dad!" Holly says, embarrassed. "Leave her alone!"

Holland knits his eyebrows. "What, Holly? She is. Not like that wench Dr Bennett…Bianca is so sweet, she would never hurt me…"

He continues to ramble about Bianca being an angel, while Bianca herself tries to ignore it and Holly tries to shut him up. Eventually, Dr Bennett comes back, a folder containing his x-rays in her arms.

"No, the devil is back!" Holland slurs, holding his fingers in a crucifix. "Get outta here…"

Dr Bennett rolls her eyes and sets the x-rays on the back light, then flicks it on. "Mr March, it looks like Bianca called it, you have a spiral fracture. Good job, Bianca."

Bianca looks up from her paperwork and shyly tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Holland looks at her and smiles a goofy, drugged-up smile, giving her a thumbs up.

"Of course Bianca's right," Holland says, "she's the best. Did you know…did you know that she took off my clothes?" He says the last part in a loud whisper everyone can hear.

Bianca's face lights up and she holds out her hands in defense. "To put on the hospital gown! I took them off for the gown."

"I know," Dr Bennett says, although she feels like teasing Bianca about it later. She heads to the sink and begins to wash her hands.

"Okay, so with this break in your arm, you're gonna need a cast for about six weeks. After I stitch up your other wound, you'll go get your cast and then you'll be free to go, if you have a ride."

"We have a ride," Holly assures, although that ride is her, and it isn't exactly legal.

"Okay. I'm going to get to suturing, alright? Switch me places, Bianca," Dr Bennett requests, motioning Bianca to get off the stool.

Holland scoffs. "You can't do that. I don't want you to do that. Let Bianca do it. She's so gentle, she's an angel. It won't hurt if Bianca does it."

Dr Bennett narrows her eyes, and sits down where Bianca moves from. "Bianca isn't allowed to do this, Mr March. And it won't hurt, I promise. I'm going to give you a little more anesthetic to make extra certain it won't hurt. Bianca, you mind to get me the suture kit?"

"Sure," Bianca says, heading to the cabinets in the back and grabbing everything Dr Bennett would need. "Here you go."

"Thanks," Dr Bennett says, pulling on a pair of gloves and drawing up some anesthetic from the vial in her pocket. "Okay, Mr March, I'm going to give you a little numbing medicine. It'll be a little stick. Ready?"

"Ready," he responds, head lolling to the side and eyes half closed. As soon as the tiny needle breaks his skin, they open wide, and he says, slowly but loudly, "fuuuuuck!"

Dr Bennett sighs and pushes all of the medicine, then tosses the syringe in the sharps container. "It's done. Do you feel it working yet?"

Holland looks at his arm and starts laughing. "Yeah, I can't feel it. My arm."

"Good. Now I'm going to start stitching you up, okay?"

He nods, closing his eyes again, and Dr Bennett removes the temporary dressing Bianca applied. She snips off the old sutures with no issue, but the first new suture is only halfway done before Holland jerks away and does that same high pitched scream from before.

"Mr March!" Dr Bennett says, "Calm down! I thought you said you couldn't feel it?"

"I can feel it!" He's screwed his eyes shut and is gritting his teeth. "Bianca…Bianca hold…can you hold my hand?"

Her eyes widen, and she looks at Dr Bennett. She nods to the nurse, and Bianca nods back, taking Holland's hand in hers. He laces his fingers with hers and looks up at her with those blue eyes of his, and she feels herself blush.

"Are you okay for me to start again?" Dr Bennett asks.

Still smiling up at Bianca, who is flushed and trying not to break her professional exterior, Holland nods. "I'm ready now. Nurse angel Bianca is going to help…"

"Uh-huh," Dr Bennett says, returning to suture his arm.

This time, Holland doesn't scream, he doesn't even thrash around. He squeezes Bianca's hand in his, tight enough that his fingernails will leave crescent shaped marks in her skin, and leans his head into her chest. Bianca can feel a tiny bead of sweat form at her temple, luckily below her bangs, and she knows her face is pink, but she doesn't break her expression.

The whole time Dr Bennett stitches him, Holland is mumbling nonsense into Bianca's chest, and all she can do is watch the doctor's hands do their job, mentally begging her to hurry up. She finishes after a few minutes, ending the job by wrapping his arm in a fresh bandage, and claps her hands.

"There," Dr Bennett says, "it's all done, Mr March. You can release Bianca now."

Holland opens his eyes and looks over at his freshly closed wound, then looks up at Bianca. He smiles lazily at her and shifts to sit up, but does not release her hand.

"You did great," Bianca praises him, gently prying her fingers out of his grasp.

"Only 'cause of you," he says, "angel nurse Bianca."

"Dad…" Holly groans from the corner of the room.

"Mr March, you're going to have a cast put on now," Dr Bennett says after discarding the suture kit supplies. "I'm going to take you over to get that done. Bianca, you clean up this bay and get everything prepped for discharge."

Bianca nods. "Yes, ma'am."

"Nooooo," Holland protests, reaching for Bianca's hand, "I want her to take me."

"I'm sorry," Bianca says softly, "I can't. Let me remove your IV before you head over there."

As she does this, Holland watches her with glassy eyes, staring at her in a way that would freak her out had it been anyone else. Once the IV is out, Dr Bennett helps Holland into his wheelchair, Bianca places his clothes on his lap so he can change, and the doctor takes him away to get his cast applied, but he doesn't take his eyes off Bianca until he literally can't see her.

Bianca stays behind and cleans up the bay, then sits down and finishes up Holland's paperwork. The whole time, she's silent, but at one point, Holly pipes up.

"I'm sorry about my dad," she says apologetically. "He gets that way when he's drunk, too, acts all stupid and stuff. I'm sorry if you felt harassed…"

She smiles and shakes her head. "Nah, he's fine. Sometimes patients react to narcotics in weird ways. It's normal."

In her head, she screams that it isn't normal, at least not how she feels about it this time. Patients, high or not, have hit on her before, but Holland isn't like them. He's one of the prettiest human beings she's ever seen, and he is funny and charming and…no. She can't be like this over a patient. It's unlikely she'll ever even see him again after tonight, anyways. There's no use being infatuated with someone she will never speak to after he leaves the hospital.

"Yeah, but he was being really annoying," Holly says with an eye roll and laugh. "But you're really nice. You're a good nurse."

Bianca smiles, finally getting a good look at Holland's daughter. She takes after him in the eyes, for certain– they're the same enchanting shade of blue. They share some mannerisms as well. But when Bianca remembers that Holland marked himself as single on the paperwork, she finds herself wondering about Holly's mother, and she realizes that maybe she doesn't have a chance with him in the first place. Sure, he's not married, but is Holly's mother still in his life?

She thinks back to the jewelry in her pocket, removed when Holland had to get an x-ray. The ring he took off goes on the pinky, and certainly isn't a wedding band. But the necklace has a ring slid onto the chain, and it could easily be a wedding ring. Bianca's heart sinks a bit thinking about this, and she places her hand over the pocket the jewelry is in.

Soon, but not soon enough, Dr Bennett wheels Holland back into the bay, and he's now got a cast on his arm and is back in his own clothes. He smiles at Bianca again, that same goofy smile, and waves at her with his unaffected hand.

"It wasn't so bad," he says, "really wasn't. But hey…hey…Bianca, will you sign it?"

She raises her eyebrows. "Huh?"

"Sign it, sign it, fuckin' sign it," he slurs, holding up his arm to her. "Make it say, "Holland, get well soon. Love, your angel nurse Bianca." And a heart. Can you do that?"

Holly stands up in preparation to leave the hospital. "Dad, leave her alone."

Bianca shrugs and leans down to him, then uses the pen she'd been filling out paperwork with and scribbles her name with a heart over the I instead of a dot. "There ya go. Now I need you to sign this discharge form."

After Bianca hands him the pen, Holland makes what is probably the worst signature he's ever made on the paper. Bianca then hands it and the pen to Dr Bennett, who officially discharges him.

"Well, Mr March, you're free to go," Dr Bennett says. "I've written you a prescription for painkillers and sent it to your preferred pharmacy. You'll have the cast removed the first time in two weeks to have your sutures removed, and then you'll get a second cast, which stays on for another month. Got it?"

He gives her a lazy thumbs up, then his arm drops down. Holly nods in understanding, silently communicating that she'll keep those instructions in mind, and stands beside her father.

"Bianca, take him out to his car, will you?" Dr Bennett asks, happy to be done with this patient.

Bianca nods, then stands behind the wheelchair and begins to push Holland. "Yes, ma'am. C'mon, Holland, it's time to go."

Holland whines in protest. "Awww, no! I wanted to spend more time with you…"

She bites her lip and wills away her feelings. "Well, maybe we'll see each other when you get your sutures out."

"Yes!" Holland replies enthusiastically, giving a fist pump.

They exit the hospital after a short distance, and Holly departs to get the car. While she's gone, Bianca remembers Holland's jewelry in her pocket.

"Oh, Holland, you probably want these back, huh?" She says, bending down to clip the necklace back around his neck and slide the ring onto his pinky.

He looks up at her like she was Prince Charming and he was Cinderella, receiving the glass slipper. His eyes sparkle with what seems to be mutual infatuation, a stupid grin on his lips, and it makes her giggle a bit. She returns the gaze, thinking that even for this short moment, she can have her little crush and let it run its course. Just for a moment…

Their moment is interrupted when Holly pulls up the car. Bianca pushes the wheelchair to the passenger side and helps Holland get in, shutting the door for him.

"Have a nice rest of your day, and be careful!" She calls.

"Bye bye, nurse angel Bianca!" He replies as Holly drives off.

Bianca sighs hard and begins pushing the wheelchair back into the hospital, knowing that that man isn't going to leave her mind for quite some time.

…

"Nurse angel Bianca," Healy laughs, knowing that will be ammunition to use against Holland later on. "Jesus Christ, March."

Holland laughs and holds up his hands. "Hey, in my defense she is the gentlest nurse I've ever met. I mean the way she took off my clothes, it was so delicate, so intimate–"

"Dad!" Holly yells. "You can't be doing this again. You don't even have an excuse this time!"

"It's fine," Bianca says with a quiet laugh. "You're a very sweet man, Holland. I'm glad to see you again, and that you're on my team."

He scoffs and waves his hand. "Ah, of course I'm on your team, Bianca. Always."

"Speaking of," Healy interrupts, "we should get down to business. You said you have some clues for us already?"

Sniffling and nodding, Bianca pulls a large file folder out of the bag she's been carrying. "Yes. Just some basic information I've gathered through work. Addresses, jobs, relationships, phone numbers…some stuff to get you started."

Healy takes the folder and drops it on the desk with a thud, then begins flipping through it. Holland stands behind him, hands on his hips, looking at the information himself.

"There are, um…there are four of them," Bianca explains, shifting in her chair. "One is unrelated, but the other three are cousins."

Holland looks closer at one of the notes Bianca had written, clipped to a photo of one of the men– she's scrawled out what seems to be a description of what the man did to her. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

"So these guys, they sexually abused you?" Healy asks, giving Bianca a sympathetic look. "All four?"

She wills away the tightness of restrained tears in her throat. "Yeah. The first one was an old family friend, it happened when I was real young. The other three, they were a year apart, all in a row. Ages twelve to fourteen."

With a new realization dawning on him that Bianca was Holly's age when this happened, Holland's attitude changes.

"Holly, you're sitting this one out. Go hang out in my office," he commands.

His daughter crosses her arms. "Why? You think it's going to scare me? That just because it happened to her, I'm at risk? Come on, dad. I want to help."

"No," Holland replies, putting up a finger, "you're not in on this one. Out."

Holly scoffs incredulously. "Are you serious? Of all the cases I can help with, this one is–"

"Holly," Holland warns.

Bianca steps in, holding up a hand in the directions of both. "Holland, it's okay if she helps. It might even do her some good to bring these jagoffs to justice. I was around her age, and I feel like it could really help her to see you take them down."

"See!" Holly calls, gesturing to Bianca. "She even wants me to help. C'mon dad, please?"

Holland sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. For right now, can you go down to the gas station and grab us all something?"

"You have drinks here," she counters.

"No, not drinks. Snacks. Healy, what do you want?" Holland asks.

He thinks for a minute, then decides, "Funyuns. Please."

Holland nods to Holly. "Funyuns for Healy, Doritos for me, and for miss Bianca?"

Bianca's eyes widen. "Oh, uh, I'm not very hungry…could I just steal a couple of your Doritos?"

"Yeah, of course," Holland says, secretly touched that she wants to share. "Holly, get the big bag so me and Bianca can share, will you?"

Holly sighs as she gets up, ready to go on her errand. "Fine. Can I at least have some money to, y'know, pay for it?"

Holland digs in his pocket and extracts a twenty from his wallet, then hands it to his daughter. "Here. Don't spend it on anything else, okay?"

"No promises," she says in a sing-song voice as she disappears behind the door, heading out of the building.

Holland sighs. "Good, now that she's gone, we can talk about the rough stuff."

Bianca shrugs. "Okay. Well, the first one, Byron, was an old family friend. He used to, um…you know…at family functions. I didn't understand it at the time, but when I was around nineteen, these repressed memories came back and I remembered everything.

The second one is Jameson. We were friends in middle school. He used to…touch me…at the pool. Every time I went, he was there, waiting. And I was too stupid to stop him.

Third is Campbell. Jameson's cousin, but I didn't know that. Campbell and I were good friends, but…I think he thought we were more. Everything he did to me happened at school. I was terrified he'd physically hurt me, so I never told anyone.

Last is Brandon. The third cousin, which I found out in ninth grade. Same year Brandon forced me into a relationship– I was fourteen, he was eighteen. Fuckin' pedophile…What he did to me, it made me do um…well…"

She casts her eyes down at her bandaged arm, and both Holland and Healy realize what the wound is from, and that Brandon's actions led her to do the same before.

Healy raises his eyebrow. "I get that you're messed up from all that. But you're in your twenties now. Why bring these crimes up all these years later? Do you really think they can prosecute them?"

Bianca scoffs. "It's not about that. It's about revenge. Ruining their lives the way they ruined mine. You're going to help me get sufficient dirt to do that."

Holland and Healy make eye contact, then look back at Bianca. Holland notices how much sadder she looks than she did at the hospital– those intense, dark eyes are full of sadness, not the sparkling infatuation from before.

"Of course," Holland says, "we'll do it. Since you have all this information, we can do a bit of a discount, right, Healy?"

"Yeah, a little one," he answers. "The rate is two hundred a day. That good for you?"

Bianca nods, pulling a pair of hundred dollar bills from her purse and smoothing them out and handing them to Holland. "It is."

"Good deal," Healy says, holding out his hand to shake Bianca's. Holland does the same, and she shakes both of their hands at once.

"Okay, let's dig a little deeper into The Scumbag Files, shall we?"