Beneath a New York subway station, a shabby clinic plastered with outdated ads flickered under cheap fluorescent lights.
Inside, a lone doctor stood while a patient sat in the corner blowing on a wound in his arm.
Caroline stepped in cautiously, forcing a smile.
"Not so bad, not so bad… really not so bad."
Max surveyed the place like it was a war zone: "Right, for a subway clinic, this one's practically five-star."
"Seriously," Max whispered to Caroline, "how are you not bolting for the door?"
"I have zero choice," Caroline clutched her purse. "No money, no insurance. I have to rough it in the third world."
Max: "This isn't the third world—this is the underworld. Only upside: bullet-proof glass."
Caroline followed her finger and saw a slug lodged in the pane.
"Well," Max nodded, "at least we know it works."
Caroline glanced at the deserted reception desk: "Says to check in here."
On the counter lay a greasy ledger whose cover read, "Your health, we care."
Caroline opened it; inside were a pizza coupon and several mystery hairs.
"See? They care," Max said. "About pizza."
Max couldn't resist: "Why not dip into our cupcake-fund and hit a real clinic—one where you don't catch something just looking at the floor?"
"Can't," Caroline insisted. "That money is our future. Spend it once and there's no rewind."
Max snorted: "Future? Girl, you're running out of present."
Caroline signed. Max peeked: "Nicole Richie?"
"I'd rather no one know I was here." Caroline kept her chin high. "I realize the setting's sub-optimal, but this is urgent."
"Wrong," Max said, eyeing the guy taping a Band-Aid over his bloody face. "They're urgent. You're, at best, moderately pathetic."
"Come on," Caroline inhaled. "Let's ask."
They approached the doctor in a grimy surgical mask.
Doctor: "Welcome to Subway Smiles Clinic."
(He shivered.) "Sorry, ladies, I'm a little jumpy—just got shot."
Caroline raised her right hand; a palm-sized burn glistened, blistered: "Uh… I scalded myself. Tried making caramel yesterday and—"
Max: "She poured boiling sugar on her hand and waited a day, calling it 'the scar of entrepreneurship.'"
Caroline: "Shows I have drive!"
Max: "No, you have third-degree."
Doctor nodded: "I've got hepatitis C."
The women locked eyes. Max patted Caroline: "Everyone's got a little something."
Doctor studied the burn: "I can do burns. I'll spray some foam on it first—step into the back."
Max yanked Caroline back: "You follow him rearward, you'll return with one less kidney and maybe a surprise baby."
Doctor added: "Laughing gas numbs things. Want some?"
Caroline asked carefully: "Is it necessary?"
Doctor stared, pupils blown: "Skip it and you'll regret it, sweet-cheeks."
They looked at each other, then bolted.
——
Back at the Williamsburg diner, Caroline dropped onto a kitchen stool.
Oleg sidled over, dish-rag in hand, eyebrows waggling.
Oleg: "Let me give you cash for a decent doctor."
Caroline blinked: "Really? You'd do that?"
"Consider it a favor," Oleg smirked. "Someday I'll need one, and you'll say yes just as quick."
"I need to know what kind of favor."
"Hard to say."
"Within a week? A month?"
"Can't be sure."
Caroline narrowed her eyes: "Is it sexual?"
Oleg solemnly: "Yes. Definitely, absolutely, undeniably sexual."
"Thanks, Oleg," Caroline stepped back. "Hard pass."
She walked out; Max stood scrolling her phone.
"Just remembered," Max looked up. "There's a new clinic nearby—cheap, clean, doctor's 'good.' Meaning, so far, no one's died on the table."
——
Ryan Clinic. On the operating table lay a turkey, cross-stitched with sutures. Mary was off today, so only the bird kept Ethan company.
Ethan practiced his daily drills; the turkey, resurrected one too many times, was physically and spiritually spent.
Its wing twitched once, then nothing.
"Holy crap!" Max barked from the doorway. "New York never fails to lower the bar. This doc might be worse than subway guy."
Ethan startled—he'd been too deep in incantations to notice visitors.
Max and Caroline entered; the doorbell appeared broken.
"Chill—at least this one's hot," Caroline said, stepping forward. "Were you… praying to the turkey?"
"Uh…"
Good news: they hadn't seen it resurrect. Bad news: they'd heard the spell.
Ethan recovered: "Practicing sutures."
Caroline frowned: "On poultry?"
"…Yep." Ethan kept a straight face—if he wasn't embarrassed, they would be.
"A crazy-hot hunk. Should I be worried that I'm kinda into this?" Max sighed, then blinked. "OH MY GOD—sign says Ryan Clinic. You're Ethan?!"
Ethan blinked: "Yeah. Can I help—"
He froze. "…Max?"
Three seconds of silence.
Caroline looked around, delighted: "You two know each other? Like… biblically?"
Max rolled her eyes: "We went on a few dates."
Ethan coughed: "A few? We were boyfriend and girlfriend, Max."
Caroline: "Ooh—exes reunited. Hold on, I'll grab popcorn while you tear each other's hearts out."
"Shut up, Caroline," Max snapped.
Ethan laughed: "You've changed. Back then you didn't have—"
Max put hands on hips, smug: "You mean these girls weren't this big? Sucks for you—they grew post-breakup."
Ethan choked, not expecting the detour: "I… meant your hairstyle."
Max raised a brow: "Shame—hair doesn't have the upgrade potential my chest does."
Caroline extended her uninjured hand politely. "Caroline Channing, Wharton grad—once had a trust fund, a private dentist, and dignity. Now... just a scalded right hand."
Ethan shook it briefly. "Hi, I'm Ethan Raine."
Hey—wait a second!
Caroline Channing?
No way—this is 2 Broke Girls?
Ethan's gaze flicked to Max. His ex from back then was the busty Max?
He'd never noticed while they were dating; she'd been a completely different person.
Max caught his stare. "What, suddenly miss the girls?"
Ethan shook his head, flipping into doctor-mode. "Let's deal with that burn first, Caroline."
He snapped on gloves and leaned in to inspect her hand.
"Second-degree. Looks like hot syrup—epidermis and upper dermis, but nothing deeper. Could've been worse."
Max grinned. "Amputation? A nice pirate hook?"
Caroline rolled her eyes. "Less TV, Max."
Ethan chuckled. "I'll clean it—sugar residue slows healing."
He poured saline across the burn; Caroline hissed as the liquid hit.
With sterile gauze he gently lifted the sticky glaze and tiny blisters.
Max leaned on the counter, arms folded. "Wow, you were never this gentle in bed. Or do all women get the deluxe treatment?"
Without looking up: "We're not in bed. You worked nights, I pulled overnights—some weeks we met asleep."
Caroline blinked. "Long-distance?"
Max: "Same city, different planets. Bed was for sleeping—literally."
Ethan's mouth twitched. "Way too ambiguous. Just sleep."
"That's what I said," Max shrugged.
Caroline snorted a laugh.
Ethan surrendered, wrapping the bandage. "Change dressing in two days. Ice for pain—no butter."
"Targeted much?" Max protested. "Butter's vital—for cooking and... other things."
"This is a clinic, not a kitchen or your playground."
"Same difference. Know how I treated my last boyfriend's burn?"
"I don't want to."
"He's two-tone now."
Finished, Ethan turned to grab ointment.
Max slid her hands in her pockets. "So you opened a clinic. Why not stay the hot-shot surgeon the nurses chase? Caught trafficking organs?"
Ethan smiled. "Freedom. These days I do all kinds of surgery—boob jobs, for instance."
"That explains the excitement when you saw me."
Caroline had officially switched to spectator mode.
A beat. "Max, why'd you vanish back then?"
Her grin faltered. "Why'd you lie to me?"
"Lie?" Ethan frowned.
Caroline blurted, "He cheated? Total scum!"
"I didn't cheat. I barely had time for Max, let alone anyone else."
Max said, "You told me you worked two jobs."
"I did—internship counts."
"And that you lived in a basement. Turns out it was the med-school dorm basement. You were the golden future doctor; I was the diner waitress. Our credit scores didn't even speak the same language."
Ethan: "..."
Max sniffed. "You also said you were broke."
"I was. Loans could flatten me. You bought the coffee."
Caroline blinked. "That's it? You sure?"
Max hesitated. "Guess that's all?"
"I don't get it." Caroline stared. "Her last boyfriend hit on me, then got caught with another girl in Max's bed. Max cried into chips and still considered taking him back.
So, Max—temporary brain damage?"
"Call it life beating the optimism out of me."
Caroline told Ethan, "I wept in a thrift store. Know what Max said? 'Save the tears for inside.'"
Ethan: "She rolled her eyes and said, 'Turn the tears inward.'"
Caroline: "Word for word!"
"And when I needed comfort she said, 'Don't look outside, look inside.'" Ethan added. "Did you suggest a cupcake shop? She said a donkey kicked your brain."
Caroline laughed till she wheezed. "She said Chestnut the horse did it—close enough."
Ethan felt an instant kinship. "Impossible, right?"
Caroline nodded hard.
Max threw up her hands. "Why are you two bonding? Suddenly besties?"
Caroline batted her lashes. "Jealous I'm getting along with your ex?"
Max shrugged. "Please. He's a hand-me-down I used and tossed. Mediocre in bed, by the way."
Caroline whispered, "Among your exes that's almost a compliment."
She leaned to Ethan: "Get us back together and I'll score you an AC install—our apartment's a sauna."
Ethan slid a check onto the counter. "Get us back together and yesterday's fee is yours."
Caroline squealed.
Max barked, "Unfair! I'm the one who slept with him!"
Caroline counted zeros. "You enjoyed yourself."
"Hell yes," Max purred, then shrieked. "One hundred thousand dollars—enough zeros to marry!"
"A hundred?" Caroline squinted. "I missed a zero. Too many!
Let's do pay-per-round—hundred bucks a pop. Three a day, you're paid off in a year."
Max glared. "Or you join in, we go premium, finish in three months."
Ethan nodded. "I'm in. Sounds like a plan."