Not Quite Oz

game plan

Pitch darkness surrounded her, and everything hurt (head pounding, shoulder throbbing, stomach gnawing itself inside out). Ximena tried to open her eyes, wanted to see, but found that they were already open wide, and her breath caught in her throat. Acute panic made her heart slam against her rib cage so hard that her stuttering heartbeat was all she could hear.

The rubble pressing down, screams, screams-

She can't move, she can't move, she can't move

Ximena pushed herself up, not waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness - even if she did, she couldn't see, tears blurring her vision. She tried to stand, but her legs gave out, and she cut herself off before she could cry out, biting her tongue. The ground was hard, and cold against her palms. She reached out blindly, hands searching and grabbing into the darkness.

Move, Ximena, move, mija, mo-

A faraway voice called - chittering and crackling - and she jumped away from it, scrambling back wildly. It followed, and must have been closer than she realized. A hand grabbed at her, hard, too hard for her to pull away.

Despite the darkness, Ximena could see her as clear as the last moment she had seen her. Bloody and broken, hair plastered to her face. She moved now, broken fingers clawing at Ximena, gripping at her to hold her in place. Her mother's last attempt to protect her daughter twisted, and Ximena knew, she knew, her mom would drag her down to death with her.

Ximena screamed. Her vision flooded with blinding gold. She threw her hands out, but a vice grip caught both of her wrists.

"-na!"

Chittering and crumbling and screaming and

"Nena!"

Ximena froze. She knew that voice. She knew - she was lurched from her waking nightmare. The gold faded from her vision, and while the dark was still as oppressive as ever, she found her vision adjusted just enough to make out the figure in front of her, holding her still.

The building did not collapse around her. It was not her mother's death grip holding her in place. There were no Chitauri waiting for them outside.

"Crow Man?" Her voice, already hoarse, cracked. The grip loosened on her wrists.

"Nena." He spoke carefully. Ximena felt the tightly coiled panic in her chest unwind only just. He began to release her wrists, and she knew that once he did she'd stumble back into the dark, back to the attack, back into her mother's dead arms. She lurched at him, clinging to him, not bothering to try and hide her tears of panic.

Just like in the alley, he went still, seemed unsure of what to do. She felt his arms wrap around her, gently, and then pull her close. He was speaking.

"I got you, nena," he said.

*

For seventy years he had killed on command. He didn't exist, and when he did, it was to strike fear in those that stood against him. Against HYDRA.

He had never been meant to comfort someone before, much less a child.

Crow Man found himself rocking her - children like being rocked, don't they? - and spoke what he hoped were reassurances. He had expected some sort of reaction from the girl when she woke, but the full blown panic, the terror in her eyes, her scream... that was something he saw of grown men surviving wars, not little girls.

Perhaps the dock warehouse had not been the best place to bring her, he thought. But it was safe. Felt familiar. And it was not as though leaving her had ever been an option. A mission had been triggered by the Hounds' appearance.