When the heat wave hit DC, the girl stopped going out during the day, and spent her time lounging on top of her pile of blankets. She slept a lot, Crow Man noted, and wasn't as talkative as she had been before. It was the heat, he knew, and he kept a closer eye on her than he had since he had come to the warehouse.

Heat without respite could be dangerous, and something about the thought of it making the girl ill made him… uncomfortable. Unsettled him the way her mention of sleeping in his cryostasis chamber had.

He hadn't said anything when she left that morning, hadn't felt the need to. She wouldn't take long if her complaints were anything to go off of, and she had always returned when she left. He hadn't offered to go with her.

When she stumbled back into the warehouse an hour and a half later, he realized that maybe he should have.

He heard the door as it slid open, and when he looked up, he saw the girl seeming to struggle with sliding it back shut behind her. His brows furrowed, noting how awkward her movements were, as though her limbs were too heavy for her. Her left arm hung limply to her side, and something was off about the angle in her shoulder.

She paused where she was, leaning her head against the door. A second passed, three, seven. After ten seconds he felt a flare of unease and stood. The girl moved then, pushing herself away from the door and nearly tripping over her feet as she whirled around to walk in.

She didn't offer her usual greetings to the supposed ghost and dust, and hardly seemed to notice him - he hadn't moved out from under the stairs, instead electing to observe. Her arm. There was something wrong with her arm. Her face was flushed red, burned from the sun. She moved sluggishly, off balanced. Her backpack was as empty as when she had left.

As she neared, he caught the gleam of unshed tears in her eyes, and when her left arm swayed with her movement, she let out a pitiful whimper.

She's hurt, Crow Man realized, and he did not think when he set out from under the stairs to meet her before she got to her blankets.

She looked up at him as he approached, and her eyes were hazy and dull beneath the gloss of tears. It alarmed him, and he set his face as to not show it. A spot of red bloomed on her temple, half hidden beneath her hair, and her shoulder - Crow Man swallowed thickly before feeling a shift within himself - was angled too far down.

Out of place.

The girl stopped in front of him, swaying, her breath coming out in labored little puffs. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out, and when he took a step toward her, she took a step back, drawing her hurt shoulder away from his reach. Pain and panic flashed in her eyes, and there was something so achingly familiar about such a small figure trying to be brave through pain.

"Your shoulder is dislocated," he told her. She blinked up at him owlishly, and when the words registered, her face crumbled, and new tears welled in her eyes. She looked down at her shoulder, and her face paled beneath the red.

"No, it's not, it just-" Her voice cracked, and he shoved the ache down deep, locking it away. He didn't have the luxury to feel, not while she was hurt, not when he had to fix it before it just got worse.

He could not be Crow Man.

"It is," The Soldier said, voice clipped as he cut her off, detached as he saw an inkling of fear in the girl's eyes. Crow Man would not like it, not at all, but it was nothing to The Soldier.

He was used to seeing fear in the eyes of those who faced him.

"It must be reset," he told her, and moved to her side to get a better view of it. The backpack strap and her overall strap reduced the visibility, and he won't be able to know if she fractured anything. There would be more complications later, he knew, if he didn't do it now. In any case, it would be easier to treat her evident heat exhaustion if he didn't have to take into account a dislocated joint.

"Don't touch it!" the girl cried, stumbling away from him, eyes wide and wild. The movement jarred her arm, and she clutched at it, a sharp whine escaping her throat. Her eyes were squeezed shut, tears leaking from the corners, and her breath grew more ragged.

She was overheated still, dehydrated, distressed. She would hurt herself further.

He reached out to grab her, and she slapped his hand away with more force than he expected.

"Enough," he barked, and she went still when he caught her upper arm - the unhurt arm - and pulled her closer to him. Her skin was warm, hot even, beneath his hand. He did not touch her with his metal hand. "If it is not fixed now, it will continue to swell until fixing it here will not be an option. A doctor will have to fix it, and when they learn you are alone, they will take you away."

The girl sniffled, looking at him with those teary eyes.

"But I'm not alone. I got you."

The words took him by surprise, enough to shake the Soldier out and let Crow Man take his place. He swallowed, feeling something in him crack. How could she trust him so? It is because she is in pain, he decided. Because she is scared. When he spoke again, he spoke softly.

"Yes, you are. I will not let them take you away." He nodded to her arm. "But I need to reset your shoulder. Will you let me?"

He said it as a question, but did not mean it as one. He would fix it whether she wanted him to or not. Best to let her think she had a say in the matter. She took a breath, and steeled her face before giving a nod. He released her arm and moved to the injured shoulder.

He needed both hands. The last time he had touched her with his metal hand, he had bruised her, had hurt her. He took a breath and let Crow Man slip away into the Soldier.

Better to bruise her further than let her remain in her current state.

She let out a whimper as he rested his metal hand at her shoulder to guide the ball back into the socket, and gripped her arm just below the elbow.

"Will it hurt?" she asked.

He did not lie. "Yes." He paused to look at her. Despite the tears, the obvious pain, she kept her expression brave. He felt a sense of misplaced pride; she was not his to be proud of.

"On three," she told him, and he did not fault her for the quiver in her voice.

"Okay," he said, and knew that if she knew when it was coming, she would tense, and make it worse. "On three-" He jerked her arm up, and she gave a strangled scream as the joint rolled back into place with a sickening pop. She went rigid beneath his hands, and he was about to pull away when her eyes rolled back and she slumped forward, unconscious.

He cradled her to his chest, and, using his flesh hand, turned her face up for him to see. Her breathing was shallow, but steady, and her face was still stained red, likely burned from the sun. The red spot he had noticed earlier on her temple was changing in hue as well, and he realized it was a bruise. He pressed two fingers to her throat, and counted.

Her pulse was quick, too quick, but not dangerously so. If she were not so dehydrated, she likely would not have passed out. If it were not so hot outside. For now, she needed rest, she needed water, an ice pack for her shoulder, medication.

Things she likely did not have stashed away in those cabinets of hers.

He let out a quiet Russian curse, and vowed to make whoever hurt the girl regret waking that morning.

For the inconvenience of it all.

He scooped her into his arms, careful not to jar her shoulder anymore than it already had been - she would need a sling, but that he could make - and took her to her pile of blankets. It was not ideal, but they would do, and set her down. He moved her into a sitting position, leaning her against him, and as gently as he could, he removed the backpack. She whimpered but did not wake when he had to maneuver it off her injured shoulder. Once it was free, he set it aside and laid her back.

The sling first, and then to retrieve the medical supplies and water she needed.

He turned and retreated to his stairs, grabbing the bag the girl had given him and returning to her. Pulling out the shirt he arrived wearing, he sat down next to the girl again. It wasn't the cleanest, clearly, but it would serve the purpose he needed it to.

She did not wake as he tore the single sleeve off, and then up one of the shirt's side seams, which did not worry him. He folded it diagonally, and once he was ready to place it on her, he paused.

The girl moved in her sleep, which was why she needed the sling, but a part of him felt uneasy putting it on her while he was to leave. Suppose she somehow managed to tangle it along her neck, and he was not there to fix it.

These were not things he thought of when he was only the Soldier. It was… stressful, he supposed.

A dilemma then.

He stared down at the sling, and then at the girl. Tear streaks dried on her face.

The sling would have to wait then, until he could stay with her to keep watch.

He left it laid out next to her, and stood, grabbing his bag once again. He would have to leave the warehouse. Alone. Without the girl.

Inconvenient, but no different than any other recovery mission he had completed in the past.

Objective: retrieve medical supplies and sustenance for The Girl.

He pulled his hat out of his bag and put it on, pulling it low over his face as he walked to the door. For the girl, he reminded himself, and pulled it open, stepping into the heat of the day.


"Nena."

The name roused Ximena back to consciousness, and she wished it had left her where she was as a pang of pain ran through her shoulder and down her arm. She let out a whimper, tears welling in her eyes, and tried to push herself up, but there was something holding her down. A hand, she realized as she blinked herself more awake, on her shoulder. The one that didn't hurt.

"Slowly," a quiet voice warned, and she turned her head to see a blurry Crow Man kneeling next to her. The hand was his then. The real one, not his cool metal one. She wanted to be alarmed, thought that maybe she should be, because why isn't he under his stairs? But she was so achy and felt so… drained.

"My shoulder hurts," she said instead, and didn't care at how pitiful it sounded. Her face felt too hot, too. Crow Man nodded, and took his hand away. Ximena wouldn't tell him, but she missed the reassuring weight once it was gone.

"Sit up," he told her, and there was a stern sort of tone beneath the quiet. "Careful." She did as he said, despite the protests from her body, and he helped her straighten with a hand on her back. She winced when she moved her arm, and when she looked down at her shoulder, she whined deep in her throat at how swollen it was. It didn't hurt so much, though, wasn't sloped down like it had been when she came back from her ill-fated food trip, before Crow Man had fixed it-

She looked at him sharply, and shoved him with her good arm. He didn't so much as lose balance, though he did look at her in surprise. "You jerk, you were supposed to go on three!"

Understanding flashed in his eyes, and he gave a noncommittal shrug. "I did."

"Not that three!" She huffed, and eyed the water bottle he pulled out from behind him. He opened it, and held it out, like a peace offering. Her mouth went try at the sight of it. "I don't forgive you," she said, taking it from him, and she swore he looked away to hide a smirk.

"Drink slow," he warned her, and she ignored it.

As it turns out, she probably should have listened, as she ended up sputtering and choking when her first big swig went down the wrong pipe, and Crow Man yanked the bottle away as she turned to the side, spewing the water back out and retching. Once she was able to breathe again, Crow Man leveled her with a look, and Ximena felt a bit embarrassed.

"Slow," he said again, more weight to the word, and she nodded. She took little sips, and when Crow Man seemed content that she would listen to him, he grabbed his bag - the bag she had given him - and pulled out a box of granola bars. Her brow furrowed, and looking past him, noticed a full pack of water, minus the one she currently nursed.

"Did you leave?" she asked incredulously, and he looked up at her through his hair before giving a curt nod. "By yourself?" The without me? was left unsaid, but he seemed to pick it up.

"You weren't awake."

"Yeah, 'cause you knocked me out."

"You knocked yourself out," he said without missing a beat, and then looked up in surprise, as though he couldn't believe he had it in him to return the banter. He shook his head. "Nevermind. Eat," he told her, and held out an opened package of granola bars. She narrowed her eyes at him and reached for the package before he could shake it at her. Unfortunately, she reached with her hurt arm, and yelped when the movement disagreed with her.

She nearly dropped the water bottle, would have, if Crow Man hadn't caught it, and clutched at her arm. She turned her face away, hissing at the pain and trying to hide the tears that pricked at her eyes from the pain. Why does it have to hurt so much? It's fixed now.

Crow Man didn't move from next to her, though she could only just pick up his sympathy. At least it wasn't pity.

Sniffling, Ximena wiped at her eyes as the pain dulled to an ever present ache. When she looked back at Crow Man, he had a soft look in his eyes.

"Okay?" he asked, and she gave a quick nod.

"'M fine."

He looked like he didn't quite believe her, but didn't say anything to contradict her. He held the package to her again, and this time she made sure to grab it with her not hurt hand.

"You need a sling," he said after a moment of making sure she would not choke on the food as she had the water.

She crinkled her nose at him, and the movement stung her burned skin. "A what now?"

"Sling. For your arm."

She huffed. "And where am I supposed to get one of those?"

But Crow Man was prepared for this, because he was, apparently, a boy scout and prepared for everything, and held up a folded bit of black fabric. Ximena stared at it hard, before letting out a shocked cry.

"Is that your shirt?" He frowned and nodded. Ximena wanted to drop her face into her hands, but one was out of commission and the other still held her granola bar. "Why would you rip up your shirt? You only got the one now!"

He tipped his head to the side, like a confused puppy. "You needed a sling."

"How is that supposed to be a sling?"

He was prepared for this, however, and laid the mutilated shirt down, and, folding the shorter points together, tied it off. Ximena narrowed her eyes at it, not quite sure she trusted it. He gestured with it, and Ximena knew he was asking for permission to put it on her. There was something in his eyes, though, and she had a feeling she didn't have much of a choice when it came to wearing it. She scowled, setting down the granola bar, wiping her hand on her pants, and holding it out for the makeshift device.

"I can do it."

He arched a brow, and she felt his amusement, and all but tore the thing from his hands when he held it out for her. She threw it over her head to hang around her neck, and frowned down at the excess fabric. Her arm was supposed to go in there. Somehow. She didn't want to ask for help, and fumbled a bit with it before throwing her head back.

"I can't. Help."

Crow Man seemed to fight back a smile, and she watched as he moved to her other side, kneeling next to her busted arm, and carefully lifted the fabric off of her.

"I thought you were gonna help!"

"It will be easier this way," he said, untying the knot he had made and positioning the widest part of the shirt beneath her arm. Ximena almost crinkled her nose again, and then remembered that it would hurt if she did, and just looked away as he lifted the ends and quickly tied it off behind her neck. Her arm was cocooned in the fabric, and the knot pressed against the back of her neck, but it secured her arm, and she figured that maybe Crow Man knew what he was talking about.

Crow Man moved back to her other side, and once again dug through his bag, and Ximena blinked in surprise when he pulled out a bottle of pills and a white box. A first aid kit, she realized.

"What's that?" she asked suspiciously as he opened the bottle of pills and shook two out.

"Acetaminophen," he answered without looking up at her.

"Aceta-what what?" He held the bottle out for her to inspect. She turned it over in her hand to read the label. "Oh, Tylenol. Okay then." She gave him back the bottle, and he dropped one of the pills into her waiting hand. Once it was in her mouth, he handed her the bottle of water, and she drank it down. They repeated the process for the second pill, and Crow Man replaced the pills in his bag, and opened his first aid kit.

"Whatta you need outta that?" she asked. "I think I'm pretty set, Crow Man."

"Ice pack." He took it out and gave it a shake to activate it before handing it to her. She let out a delighted laugh, and rather than put it on her shoulder, she held it to her probably sunburned face, sighing in contentment at the cold. "For the swelling," he reminded her, and she didn't pout, but it was a close thing.

"You know, I could still definitely use that fridge of yours."

Crow Man stiffened at the mention of it, but rather than snap at her like he had before, he gave a sad sort of smile. "No good for you. Drink water."

She rolled her eyes and balanced the ice pack on her shoulder so she could grab the water bottle. They fell into a comfortable sort of quiet, and Ximena felt her eyes droop. For all that she felt better with the water and ice pack, she was still tired.

Crow Man spoke. "What happened?" Ah, right. She had hoped she'd get away without having to answer that question, and wondered if maybe she just… ignored it… "Nena," he said, and she couldn't help but react to the name. She looked up at him, frowning before realizing he must have heard Helen call her that. She wondered if he realized that was not her name. "Your arm?"

She looked down at it and scowled at it like it had betrayed her. "I fell off a ladder," she said with begrudging truthfulness. She didn't bother telling him just how high up she had been.

"A ladder."

"I was getting off a roof."

"Why?"

Her scowl deepened and she looked away. "I was hiding from some cops."

She had been stuck on that roof for way more than an hour, and her head had been so baked from the sun that she had slipped trying to get down when they finally left. She had landed on her side, on her arm, and whacked her head, and had heard such a gross pop she thought it had come right off.

"Cops."

"I kinda pushed one because he grabbed me, so I had to run," she found herself saying, and Crow Man got the same dark look he had when the security guard was bullying her. "It wasn't my fault!"

"No," he reassured.

They were quiet for a bit. "Can I lay down with this?" she asked, nodding to the sling, and he nodded. She waited for him to get up and go back to his side of the building, but he seemed content to stay right where he was. She huffed, and settled down, not caring that he saw her grab Oso-osito with her good arm.

"You don't gotta stay here," she told him,and he looked down at her.

"Do you want me to go back?"

She considered it for a second. She knew that if she told him to, he'd retreat back under his stairs like some sort of wholesome parody of a monster under the bed. "You can stay, if you want," she said, adding the last bit in a rush. He nodded, and made no move to get up. "Crow Man?" He hummed in acknowledgement. "Thanks for fixing my arm, I guess."

He glanced down at her. "You're welcome. I guess."

He was definitely trying not to smile now, and Ximena rolled her eyes. "Loser."