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He often times watched them, the pretty little people walking by the window. Too busy to look inside the dark, too busy to see him. Not that Stitches minded. He sat back in his chair, glancing from form to form, scanning the passing crowds with his single unstitched eye.

A hand placed itself on his shoulder, he knew only because he saw it from the corner of his eye. He felt nothing, but he knew who it was.
“Are you watching the littel humans, mein bruder?” she leaned forward to peer out the window, her hair falling forward over her shoulder.
“Ich wartete für Sie.” He smiled, placing his hand on hers instinctively.
“That one would make a good doll…” she spoke casually, pointing out the window at a woman with a bob cut, wearing a business suit and talking fast on a phone.
“Ze face leaves something zu be desired, ja? Ich vould haben zu vork on it…”
“There’s always something wrong with them, isn’t there?”

Her eyes drifted back to look at him, though he could not decipher what they said. Over the years his sister, who had always been considerably colder than the other children, had grown to become even less. But he didn’t say this too her, he remained silent, returning to her the lack of emotion she gave.
“Are you taking care oft yourself?” he asked instead, turning her to face him.
He searched over her form for any new bruises, cuts, any signs of illness, anything untrained eyes would miss. He instinctively reached for the stethoscope around his neck, rising to check her heart beat, but she took a step back and withdrew her hand from his.
“Are these check ups really needed?” she asked, voice hinting at annoyance though her face showed nothing.
“Vith our…condition, ja, it ist.” He responded, motioning for her to take a seat on the table in the lighted section of the room, though he didn’t keep it nearly as brightly lit for her visits. She complied, but not without a mild sigh.
“I check over meinself several times a day, I survived just fine-“ he paused from placing his bag down on the table to glance at her, but she had already stopped short. She didn’t need to finish the sentence, he knew what she was going to say.
“I’m very careful…” she chose to say instead, looking away. She knew the sting behind her words.

He stared at her, counting to ten in his head, and then took a deep breath, let it out slowly. She did just fine for the years he was gone, she was going to say.
“Ist it so bat fur me to vant to make sure you are all right?” he whispered.
“Most brothers simply ask.”
“Most sisters feel physical sensation und do nicht vork vith psychopaths.”
“Psychopath? That’s a new one for you to call him. Tell me, how are your patients doing, herr Doktor? The ones who didn’t sign consent forms?” she asked, still just as calmly.
He opened his mouth to retort, but swiftly closed it again. He tried to think of a response, and failed. In his head, there were several justifications he could have given, or several biting remarks, but he realized that wouldn't help matters in the least. He let out a defeated sigh instead.
“Is it too much fur me to vorry about you?”

Silence. Then her turn to give a sigh.
“I appreciate the thought, but I’m not a child. I can take care oft meinself.”
“Nein! Sie können nicht! You do nicht notice your own vounds, you do nicht tend to zem in time, you ignore vhat’s wrong vith you until you neet ein hospital, und even zen you kill your nurse und leave too early!”
“It’s not my fault if the humans can’t fix a form as well as you can.” She gave a smile, trying to change the subject with a compliment. She wouldn’t admit her fault. Still, it was hard for him to ignore her smile, when she so rarely gave one.
“At least let mich check your temperature und fur any broken bones, ja? Ze last thing ve neet ist fur you to run around vith ein nother fever, ja?” he offered his last ditch effort, and she graciously gave a nod.

So he took her temperature, had her wiggle all of her toes and fingers, moved her arms and legs and checked her back neck and ribs for any broken bones, finding none. At the same time he checked on the bruises and scabs, the few burn marks, making sure they were healing properly. Everything seemed to be checking out just fine, and her temperature was normal. He breathed a sigh of relief on the inside, offering a smile on the outside instead.

“Everything seems fine,” He smiled, documenting the results as always, “But you shoult really consider keeping warmer, just because you do nicht feel colt does nicht mean you von't get hypothermia.” He suggested, pausing from the clipboard to glance at her. Her attention already seemed to have flown out the door, back to her job and her "master".
“Oft course, I know that.” She smiled, sliding from the table and smoothing her dress, which could certainly use some more length to it. Perhaps he could talk that Scarecrow-creep into convincing her to wear something longer, in the very least with the weather growing colder, lord knows she would listened to him. One of these days he was going to cut into that Scarecrow man and stuff him full of straw, turn him into a real scarecrow. Then his sister would listen to him. Then his sister would-

“What are you planning?” her question interrupted his thoughts, and he glanced down with a fake smile.
“Nichts.” But she raised an eye brow and obviously didn’t believe him.
“I’m going now…”
“Ah, zen take care, meine liebste Schwester. See you again soon…” he smiled, setting the clipboard down to walk her to the door. They hugged shortly, and she went on her way out the door, bare feet trotting carelessly on the concrete. He really wished she would wear shoes sometimes, what if she stepped on something sharp? He closed the door with a shake of his head, moving back into the dark and back to the bag. Reaching in, he withdrew one of his scalpels. He liked the way they looked, and held it up to the light. Admiring the way it gleamed, a twisted smile curved his face as a plan began to form in his head...