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Rob whistled to himself as he climbed the stairs to the second floor of the apartment building, carrying a plastic bag which contained takeout containers of delicious Indian food and basmati rice. The texts from Aitana were more than welcome. Ever since their tryst in the basement studio of his house, he'd spent about half his waking hours thinking about the tall Brazilian girl. He figured this was what the Americans called a "booty call" -- she was ready for a repeat performance. Well, so was he. He hoped her neighbors were patient about noise.

Looking at the apartment doors, he finally located #4. She'd said the door would be unlocked, so he tried the knob and opened it easily. "Hey love," he called as he entered, then in response to her question, "I've got some lovely take-away curry --"

Then he saw her on the bed, and more crucially saw the angry red lines raking down her exposed back. "Oh my god…" Dropping the bag containing the food on the floor, he quickly crossed the room and knelt next to the bed. "Aitana!" Touching her arm, he leaned in and took a closer look at the dreadful marks on her back. It looked like it was starting to get infected, the skin around them puffy and sickly red. Not good.

"What the hell happened?" he half-whispered, moving to shift a stray braid off her face.

"The food's fine, love," Rob reassured her, glancing over at the plastic bag on the floor. It was classic Aitana to be less concerned about her injuries than she was about anything else, including her empty stomach. "I'll get it for you in a minute. Let me look at those scratches first."

Clearly she had no idea how bad the marks down her back looked, he decided as he examined them more closely. Yeah, they looked like they were becoming infected, all angry red and puffy. Not good at all. Tentatively he touched the skin close to one of them and felt how warm she was. Probably had a bit of a fever too from them.

Rob was no medic, but he had tended his own injuries on many an occasion after a fight. None of them were as gruesome as the injuries on her back, though. But some of them had been pretty deep cuts, administered by broken bottles and knives. There was no need to take her to hospital, at least not yet. He could tend to these himself, at least stop the infection from spreading and becoming septic and toxic to her.

Gently he stroked her forehead, feeling the slight touch of warmth there. "Right. They're pretty nasty looking. Do you have any peroxide?"

His gaze following the direction her free hand pointed, Rob nodded. "I'll be right back, love." He kissed her forehead, then stood and crossed the small apartment to the bathroom. He found the peroxide easily, along with the rag. Apparently she had tried to disinfect her injuries herself -- a tough task given their location and size. Rummaging under the sink, he located the bandages and some other medical supplies. It appeared she was well stocked for treating herself. He'd look at the rest of that stuff later, to see if there was anything else he could use; right now the important thing was to get the wounds cleaned out and closed up.

He returned to Aitana's side and set his load down on the floor next to the bed. Opening the peroxide, he poured a goodly amount on the rag. "This is going to sting a bit," he warned, then applied the peroxide-soaked rag to her back, where it foamed vigorously in the infected gashes.

"Yeah, I'm afraid so," Rob nodded, watching the fairly violent foaming of the peroxide as it did its job. Aitana was definitely a tough one, he had to give her credit for that; he'd be howling and hissing and writhing if the same thing were being done to him. He'd had some bad injuries in fights, but nothing like this.

Taking the rag in his hand, he dabbed gently at the wounds to soak up some of the peroxide and squeezed a little bit more on her back. This was going to take some time. Standing, he went to retrieve the plastic bag containing the curry and rice from the floor; at least he could put the food in the kitchen so it's be ready when she was finally ready to eat. He checked to make sure it was still intact, and satisfied that it was, headed for the kitchen to place it on the kitchen counter. One little thing taken care of.

Then he went back to Aitana's side and examined the wounds again. The foaming was finally lessening a little -- of course, that could mean that the peroxide was a little spent. He dabbed at the gashes with a corner of the rag. "How are you doing, love?" he asked.

Rob, however, did laugh, a slight chuckling snort as he continued to dab at the wounds. Even in such desperate pain as Aitana must have been in, she could still make an attempt at a joke.

"It'll stop eventually, when the endorphins kick in again." It must have hurt like hell to make her way home from wherever this fight had been. Of course he had only the scantest of details about it, just what she had told him, but it sounded like it had been brutal. Two against one tended to be. Still, as the adrenaline rush from finding her in this state faded, he was surprised at how concerned he was for her. Yeah, she was a tough girl, both as Aitana and as Juno. But he couldn't imagine how he'd react if anything really serious happened to her. More to the point, he could imagine it. And he really didn't want to.

To take his mind off that particular train of thought, he paused in his dabbing and studied the wounds again. The puffiness had gone down just ever so slightly, but that could have been due to the coolness of the peroxide. If only he had some salve of some kind… Then he remembered seeing some antibiotic ointment in the cabinet beneath the sink. Getting up, he strode to the bathroom and retrieved it, then quickly returned. Very gently he began to apply it directly to the gashes with his fingers. He hoped it would help with the pain as well as with the infection.

"This should help," he reassured as he gingerly spread the ointment around. "I'll close them up after I'm done." He wasn't sure there were enough bandages in the world to close up those wounds, but butterfly sutures would work just fine.

"And I'll come over to keep you company while you're laid up. And feed you."

Rob felt her fidgeting beneath his fingers and smiled. "I will make myself available for you. It won't be an inconvenience. All I'd be doing is busking anyway." Smoothing ointment into the last crevasse of her wounds, he wiped his finger on his shirt and sat back to meet her gaze. "Now all that needs doing is the bandages put on."

He reached for the box of bandages and opened it. There were quite a few in there, of various sizes. Hopefully there were enough. "Right, now, stop squirming." Pulling a bandage out of the box, he peeled it open and carefully applied one end to the skin at the edge of the gash nearest him. He pulled the gash closed and stuck the other end of the bandage to her skin, effectively making a padded butterfly suture. He hummed softly as he applied the next one, and the next, and so forth until the first wound was closed and bandaged.

Then he had a thought. "Tell you what -- I'll bring round my guitar and serenade you while you convalesce. How would you like that?"

Rob looked up from his work at the sincere statement. "Thank you," he smiled at her, "I try." He returned to bandaging Aitana's wounds, feeling all warm and happy inside. "You're a good friend too." And it was true, she was. Beyond the awesome sex, he really did consider her one of his dearest friends. He wouldn't do this for just any old acquaintance, clean and salve and bandage injuries this bad; he would have taken them to hospital and that would have been it. He felt a closeness and a kinship with her that went beyond their connections as senshi. They were a good fit for each other, in many ways. He was lucky, he thought, that he had encountered her that one evening beating up that Negaverse captain and youma.

Finishing up the fourth gash, he moved on to the fifth and last. "Almost done." He was running out of bandages, too -- he'd have to run to the drugstore and pick up a roll of gauze and some medical tape for when he changed the dressing next. "Then we'll sit you up and I'll get you your food."

He started humming again as he applied the bandages and sealed up the deep injury. "So, what kind of music do you like?" he asked. He wanted to make sure he played the right stuff when he came over and serenaded her while she rested and recovered.