Chapter Text
A dark haried, muscular man stood behind the pharmacy counter for a moment, contemplating the series of events that had led him to this very spot.
“Fucking Mae,” he muttered, exasperation seeping through. It always seemed to boil down to fucking Mae these days. Why did he have to choose such an obstinate associate. Of all the hungry, desperate people in this city, he’d had to choose her to be his next pupil, hadn’t he.
A smirk crossed the man’s face then, a dark humor flashing across his eyes. For he knew that while he may resort to blaming Mae, the true bane of his existence and cause of his problems was himself. He was the one to recruit Mae after all. He was the one who was so eager to have an associate that he created an entire fake persona in order to spend more time with her, to give her a little hand-holding along her journey the way his true self never could. In the back of his mind he knew it was crazy, that he was overstepping. Why should this girl have extra help?
He certainly never did while he was gunrunning on the streets in his youth.
Yet, he couldn’t deny that he wanted her to succeed, no matter how much she pissed him the fuck off. And, secretly, though he’d never admit it, he actually enjoyed being a mentor and liked being able to be close while she grew and matured in this life.
And. Well. There was also the unspoken reason he pursued her in the first place. The odd attraction he had towards Mae.
And it was … odd.
He was drawn to her. He thought she was hauntingly beautiful. I mean who wouldn’t?! Her dark eyes, the elegant curve of her nose, striking cheekbones… God, everything about her drew him in.
And then she opened her fucking mouth and that’s about as far as the attraction went.
Still… he wanted to keep her around. Couldn’t help himself, really. Plus, on a practical level she had huge potential, if she could get her shit together.
The man shook his head, as if trying to shake loose thoughts of the young woman. Then he looked down at the unconscious man laying at his feet and grimaced. This man, a pharmacist, owner of a little mom and pop pharmacy in the poorer part of the city, was his job today. This was a job Mae really should be dealing with.
Honestly, he thought, what was the point of having underlings if you still have to deal with all the manhandling yourself?
He studiously ignored the fact that he had specifically not told Mae about this job and urged her to focus on her other jobs earlier in the day. Ok, so sue him if he still liked to get in on the action sometimes. What mob boss doesn’t like to go back to his roots and rough some poor schmuck up every once in a while anyways? Plus, the man was still young, and his crew was small, so there was lots of work to go around.
The pharmacist groaned and the man looked down at him wearily, wondering if he’d have to gag him. It was a false alarm though, the pharmacist went silent a moment later and showed no signs of waking. It was an odd situation, the mobster mused. It was part of the reason he wanted to deal with it on his own and keep hot-headed Mae out of it. He turned the situation over again in his mind.
This pharmacist had approached his crew two weeks ago, and the request had immediately grabbed his attention. What could an upstanding member of society who owns a well-known and respected small business need $200 000 in blood money for? The pharmacist, a quiet older man with wrinkles around his eyes and across his forehead- the kind that don’t go away anymore no matter how relaxed the man may be- had bowed his head and only stated that it was important, a real life or death situation.
“She’ll die,” he’d whispered.
The mob boss wasn’t sure who “she” was and frankly didn’t much care. He’d contemplated the situation for a moment, then shrugged made the old pharmacist a deal.
“Two hundred thousand, two weeks, and you’ll throw in three hundred and sixty five valium.”
The valium was for himself, of course. The old pharmacist had shifted uncomfortably. The mob boss had just smirked at him and, in an innocent voice asked, “Oh, sorry, does that make you uncomfortable? You can always go somewhere else.”
He’d started to turn away but the old man shouted
“No!
No, there’s no time.
You’ve got a- I mean, yes, thank you. I accept. Thank you.”
The last ‘thank you’ had been so quiet, so meek. The mob boss could tell this was not something the pharmacist wanted to do. There was some sort of desperation driving him. He’d easily shrugged it off though, seeing as desperation was a common denominator in his line of work.
What was he doing again?
Oh yes.
The mob boss brushed a dark strand of hair out of his eyes and turned back to the computer in front of him. He’d managed to beat the password out of the old pharmacist and was in the process of deciding which pills he’d be dispensing as interest for himself. He shook his head slightly as he clicked through the options. Damn old man had him feeling like a teenager again, hocking pills on the streets.
He felt a flash of anger.
Why couldn’t the old man just stick to their deal and pay him back. Now he had to go through all this extra work that he didn’t even want to do. He slammed a fist on the countertop to vent his rage.
He’d never been one to hide his emotions, his father had always told him that it was powerful to feel them and to let them guide you.
He returned to scrolling the list. “Metformin, no,” he muttered. “Amplodiine, no. Levothyroxine, no. Lansoprazole, no. Fuck your clients are boring,” he whispered, more to himself than to the man still passed out at his feet, hidden behind the tall countertop. “Prednisone, no. Hydrocodone, hmm no. Amoxicillin, are you fucking kidding me. Oh… morphine, than might b-“
“Hello!”
The soft, musical voice came out of nowhere. The mob boss’ head snapped up from the screen. Across from him, on the other side of the high counter top, stood Mae.
His brain short-circuited for a moment.
What the fuck was she doing here. He almost lashed out, then remembered what he looked like, how he was dressed, and who he was to her. He was just Qimir, fellow associate, not the king in front of whom she should quiver in fear.
“Oh, hello,” he pitched his voice up and plastered a strained smirk on his face.
Mae stared back at him for a moment, not moving. What a strange reaction, he thought absently. Mae was sharp as a whip around Qimir and he’d never seen her hold her tongue before. Still, he took a moment to enjoy it. He liked Mae best when she was silent and he was able to just observe her. He resisted the urge to scream whatthefuckareyoudoinghere at her, and silently praised himself for his self-control.
“H-Hi,” Mae stuttered out.
Okay definitely weird.
Qimir allowed his strained smile to soften as it became real and stifled a laugh. His dark eyebrows pulled downwards and closer together for a moment and his eyes softened.
“Hi,” he replied, still drinking in Mae’s beauty while he could, before she opened her mouth again an inevitably pissed him off.
Mae cleared her throat slightly, then asked in a tentative voice, “Do you know where- I mean, do you know if Mr. Fiefe is around?”
Qimir felt his muscles tighten imperceptively. What the fuck was going on? Why was Mae acting like this, so formal, almost like they didn’t know one another. And why was she asking about the old pharmacist lying at his feet?
“Mr. Fiefe is , away,” he responded quickly.
Mae looked down towards her feet, her eyebrows pulled together. “Oh,” she murmured, “Yeah I should have assumed so. I know its past closing time, I just thought I’d try to catch him in person since the lights were on and the door was unlocked.”
Mentally, Qimir kicked himself. What kind of idiot doesn’t lock the door before shaking someone down.
“That’s ok,” Qimir gave her a half-smile, “I can pass along a message for you.” He didn’t really know why he said that. Again, he expected Mae to make a smart ass comment, but to his surprise instead he received a soft smile and a quiet “Thanks.”
He felt stunned, and only then did he start to realize there was something seriously off. It was impossible, because this woman was obviously Mae, and yet every part of their interaction was playing over in his mind and his brain was screaming at him “NOT MAE NOT MAE”. And Qimir had learned over the years to trust his brain, even when it was telling him something impossible.
Not-Mae then pulled out a small envelope from her vest pocket and placed it on the counter top. It was the size and shape of a greeting card, in a light pink envelope sealed with a golden sticker.
“Please tell him how grateful I am. I mean, he’ll read it in the card, but please tell him anyways.”
Not-Mae ducked her head, lifted her shoulders, and hugged her arms around her middle. A slight blush coloured her cheekbones and she was the picture of shyness. It was a look Qimir had never seen on Mae before and it made him feel like he was having heart palpitations.
Not-Mae started to turn and out of desperation Qimir blurted out
“Wait!”
Not-Mae turned back, a questioning look on her face.
Shit, think of something!
“Who do I say the card is from?”
Not-Mae’s slightly concerned face melted into a soft smile and she replied, “He’ll know. Plus,y’know, I signed the card.” A small giggle escaped her lips and Qimir felt his head spin.
Then she scurried out of the shop into the night. Qimir had a surprisingly strong urge to race after her, but thankfully had enough wherewithal in the back of his mind to realize that would be creepy.
Instead, he ripped open the card.
“Dear Mr. Fiefe,
I needed to write this letter to you today to thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
I had an appointment today with my nephrologist and the topic of medication came up. Dr. Drak was absolutely shocked when I told her that I’d already been able to start my medication. I was confused, of course, as you had never mentioned any concerns or barriers when I brought the prescription to your shop, and you had been so quick to fill the script.
She told me today how expensive the drug is, how most patients are told by their pharmacy that a down payment of $200 000 is required before they can even order the drug. I don’t know how you were able to bypass that requirement for me, but I cannot tell you how grateful I am. I never would have been able to make that payment.
I am so happy to tell you that that the drug is working like a miracle. Already my kidney function has improved exponentially, and I am feeling so much better. Again, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Your kindness and generosity has already changed my life.
I wish a lifetime of happiness and health for you and your family.
Osha Aniseya”
Qimir stared blankly at the card.
Osha.
Osha Aniseya.
Holy fuck.
It all made sense.
That woman wasn’t Mae, it was her twin. The one she’d told him was dead…
And the pharmacist.
His eyes traveled downward to look at the old man’s battered face. He’d needed that money to get Osha the medication she apparently needed to save her life. A very un-mob boss-like feeling of guilt tugged at his chest.
He tried to bat it away. Why should he care why the pharmacist did it? All he should care about is the fact that he hadn’t been paid back at the agreed upon time.
Yet Mae- no, Osha’s soft smile, kind eyes, and blushed cheeks wouldn’t leave his mind.
Perhaps… perhaps the beating was enough.
For now.
He turned back to the computer and clicked open a new file.
Client profile: Osha Aniseya
Age: 27
His eyes scanned her profile hungrily. When he got to “payment methods” he saw that her insurance had been billed and the $200 000 down payment refund was “processing”. He sighed and, in spite of his better judgement, decided that was enough for now.
He scribbled down something on a spare post-it note, grabbed the bottle of valium he was owed, and stepped over the still breathing body on the ground to leave.
The old man would wake soon enough, battered and bruised but alive and with a full inventory. He’d never discover that an opened thank-you note had been stolen that night, a young woman's home address and phone number copied from a private file, or why he’d been given an extended mercy for the next three and a half weeks while the insurance company dragged their feet on his refund.
He’d never make a deal with the devil again.
But, when he saw a shy, mild mannered young woman pop into his shop from his back office through the (now bulletproof) two-way glass (with the office door locked, with a deadbolt at all times, mind you) he did allow himself a smile. For he knew what that medication had been for. And he could see already how much better she looked.
Despite it all, that made everything worth it.
And when a corporate pharmacy had tried to move in down the block months later- threatening his business and livelihood- he'd never know how or why the deal ended up falling through. In his older age he didn't spend much time on social media. If he had he might have heard that the corporate CEO had been in a vague and unfortunate accident which had resulted in two broken kneecaps.