'If a man is to do something more than human, he must have more than human powers.'

~ Native American Proverb

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Alice worked at the hospital as a nurse, night shift. It was early morning as she walked through the waking streets of New York and towards her small apartment.

The young woman shuffled quickly to avoid getting mugged. As she finally made it to her stairwell that led down to her front door, she stopped and stared for the longest time. She was attempting to make out a large 'something' that was crouched in her doorway.

"Maybe it's just a bum…" Whispering this to herself and arming her hand with a can of pepper spray. Alice approached with extreme caution and stopped when she noticed blood dripping from the huddled form. She knelt down very slowly and noticed the mask right away from the wanted posters and from the news. This was Rorschach and here he was, bleeding buckets on her doorstep.

Swiftly, she unlocked her apartment door, knelt down and looped her arms under his armpits and dragged him in. For someone so small, he was heavy. Possibly, a lot of muscle on his body from all the vigilante work.

She moved him to the middle of her living room floor and rushed back to the front and picked up her welcome mat, which was saturated from his blood and moved it inside. She would water down the step later.

Quickly, she began removing his trench coat and saw the wound, blood oozing out in fresh rivers down his arm. She squinted in the dim light at the wound and slowly, carefully, fingers trailed up to his scarf and a hand shot out around her wrist and he squeezed to the best of his abilities.

It didn't hurt as much as it startled her. But he only let out a pained groan and his head lulled back. He passed out again.

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The first hour was critical. She felt around the wound and felt the lump where the bullet was lodged. She looked and found that no arteries were nicked.

She picked up a bottle of rubbing alcohol and doused her hands. Quickly, she rubbed her hands together and worked up her arms to her elbows. And, every so gently, picked up a pair of fine tweezers and began fishing out the bullet.

Rorschach growled and cried out in agony as she fished around the fatty layer of tissue and found the bullet had stopped right before the muscle wall. With skilled hands, she pulled the bullet out and breathed out in relief that he didn't begin bleeding like a stuck pig.

She put a hand on Rorschach's upper chest and pushed him down and began cleaning out the wound with rubbing alcohol and picked up a sterile needle and threaded it with fine thread and began sewing him up.

The injured vigilante grunted and his head lulled back, possibly passed out from the excruciating pain.

And quickly, she knotted the thread and began wrapping up his shoulder with gauze and strips of bandages.

Afterward, the young woman could now see the first signs of the sun appearing along the walls, its bright brilliance illuminating the room in gold.

The masked vigilante was too fragile to move at the time, so she pushed a pillow under his head and covered him with warm blankets.

She took his stained trench coat and white shirt, and filled a large basin with water. Like a caring mother, began scrubbing out the stains of blood.

While her boney hands worked on the coat and shirt, all sorts of thoughts ran rampant through her mind. Why did she take in this man? He was a killer, according to the news. But something her grandmother told her, that we all were family, even the white men that chased her people off their land. Love thy enemy. All those old morals springing to mind as she finished scrubbing out the blood and various other stains. She squeezed the excess water from the garments and moved them to her indoor clothes line and allowed it to drip dry for the day.

She turned to the clock and she noticed it was ten in the morning. Hastily, she went to her bathroom, freshened up and went to her bed, which wasn't too far from the living room. She lay there, motionless and she could hear his ragged breathing. She tossed and turned in her bed a few times, but she couldn't get comfortable.

Quietly, she sat on the sofa, watching him sleep on her floor. Yet, curiosity got the better of her and gently, she knelt down to his level and began removing the mask and a hand shot up and wrapped around her throat. A low guttural growl escaped his lips. "Where's my shirt?!"

Alice was struggling to breathe, but he shook her hard. "WHERE IS IT?! ANSWER ME!"

"I will… if you let go of me." She rasped. He let go and he shot a hand to his shoulder, cradling the wounded flesh.

"Hrrm… go get it." He was calm and slowly sat up.

She rubbed at her neck and wandered to the clothes line and pulled it from the clothes pins. They were damp still, but she carried them over to him and held it out.

He took the shirt and he grumbled. "Wet. What'd you do?"

"Washed it." She stated simply, her body trembling and her hand rubbing at her neck.

Rorschach could only snarl and tossed it back to the woman. He eyed the blankets and ran a hand to the bandaged shoulder. "What happened?"

"You were shot. I found you on my doorstep this morning." Alice said, watching him, seeing what he was going to do next.

"Hrrm…" He felt his mask, still in place. He examined the blankets and pillow that was beneath his head. He looked around the apartment in curiosity and noted the decorations of Native American décor, like the dream catcher that hung by the front door and the different knick knacks and pictures that hung in the kitchen.

"Why did you help?" He said, still eyeing the apartment as calmly as possible.

"I felt it was the right thing to do." Alice moved a bit closer, but remained a good distance and her pepper spray was only several steps away.

"Stupid thing to do. I'm dangerous." He tried to stand up, but grunted in pain and fell back.

"Hey, you're really weak. You need to rest before you leave…" She was stunned when he turned and faced her. Those swirling black spots hypnotizing her.

"Don't know anything. Probably called the police on me." He stated and sighed, giving up for the time being. He knew he was in no condition to move and it was daylight. He would need to stay put for a while.

"No, I didn't call." She said, folding her arms.

"Then who did this?" He pointed to the stitching along his collarbone.

"For your information, I did." She said, walking to the kitchen and began picking up some fresh gauze and pulling out a bottle of something.

"You a doctor?" Rorschach grunted as he began undoing the bandaging.

"No, I'm actually a registered nurse." She went over and knelt down slowly. "Would you mind?" She asked, motioning to his wound.

"Yes…" He glowered, but she gently began removing his bandaging and began cleaning the area and reapplying new bandaging.

"This is to prevent infection…" She idly said. "You should be right as rain in a few weeks, but nothing heavy. You could rip open the would and that wouldn't be very good, now, would it?" She finished and sat back on her knees. "You can leave when you feel up to it. Are you hungry?"

Rorschach felt taken aback by this woman's kindness. Suddenly, the wall of suspicion came up and he growled, but nodded. "Poison me and I'll kill you."

Alice crossed her arms. "How will you kill me if you're dead from poisoning?"

Rorschach growled, but turned away and laid back on the makeshift bed.

The woman heated up some left over stew and buttered several slices of white bread. She put this on a tray and carried it over and she knelt beside him. "Here. Try to eat something."

Slowly and reluctantly, he sat up and allowed her to balance the food on his knees. With his left hand, he moved to the mask, but he turned.

Alice got the hint and she excused herself to the other part of the apartment.

She laid in her bed and listened to the sound of loud slurps and smacking of lips. The sign that he was finished with his meal, the clang of the metal spoon in the bowl and he put the tray down.

And as soon as that happened, she had settled into a peaceful sleep for the day.

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*A/N: The title 'Ni Hi n Ay' is Cherokee and translates to 'You and I'.