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Giorno nearly slipped on a patch of ice that had been left as a diversion as they pursued the Stand user through a series of narrow back streets. Mista and Narancia's footsteps were right behind him, though Narancia's were quickly faltering.
"Guys, I…"
Giorno stopped at a corner, peeking around to see if he could see their enemy. He swore when he saw nothing was there. It looked like they might have lost him.
"Giorno."
The young Don turned around at Mista's quiet call. The gunman had a worried expression on his face as he propped Narancia against him, the younger boy shivering uncontrollably.
"Narancia?" Giorno asked, concern welling inside him as he stepped over to them. "Is it getting worse?"
Narancia tried to wave a hand nonchalantly. "I'm f-fine, just c-c-old."
Giorno reached out and grabbed Narancia's arm, seeing the spot on his hand where the enemy Stand had hit him. Ice had formed in the wound and was now spreading up his wrist. Even the skin above the strange injury was cold.
"It's spreading pretty fast," Mista said worriedly, instinctively pulling Narancia closer as he continued to shiver.
Giorno glanced over to where the Stand user had disappeared.
"You can go without me," Narancia said.
"No," Giorno protested. "Mista, go bring the car around. We'll get Narancia home and then pick this back up later. We already lost him anyway."
"Guys you d-don't have t-t-to," Narancia tried to protest but his teeth were chattering almost too much for him to talk and he shook so much he almost couldn't stand.
"No way, kiddo, you need to get warm," Mista said as he helped Narancia over to sit against the wall of the alley, taking his own jacket off to wrap around the smaller boy's shoulders. "Just wait here, and I'll go grab the car, make sure the heat's on full blast before you get in."
Narancia slumped with a nod, curling around himself. As Mista ran off, Giorno crouched beside him and inspected his hand again. They watched as frost crept just slightly upwards.
"It's getting w-worse," Narancia murmured.
Giorno pressed his lips together. "I can try to fix it, but I don't know if I'll be able to without cutting your hand off. Or killing the Stand user."
Narancia's eyes widened slightly. "Well, uh, I w-would rather try for the St-Stand user f-first."
Giorno smiled wryly. "Can you use Aerosmith to see where he might be?"
Narancia nodded and manifested his Stand. But the small airplane only made a wobbly circle, one wing iced over.
"Aw man…that d-doesn't look g-good," Narancia murmured, shivering even more. "I c-can't even get A-Aerosmith up h-high enough."
"Don't worry about it," Giorno said, already slipping his hand under his overcoat and taking one of his ladybug pins off his suit, having Gold infuse it with life energy.
"You're gonna cut my hand off now, aren't you?" Narancia asked.
"I've done it multiple times. It will only hurt really bad for a little bit," Giorno promised, trying to sound reassuring.
Narancia slumped back, then seemed to summon a large amount of energy and manifested Aerosmith again, holding his wrist out to shoot it.
"Narancia!" Giorno cried in shock as the frozen hand dropped to the ground and Narancia doubled over with a cry. Giorno hurriedly attached the hand he was growing from the ladybug to Narancia's wrist, Gold fusing the flesh together.
Narancia was panting, sweat breaking out on his forehead now instead of shivering.
"Holy shit," he gasped. "Why the hell do you think this is a good idea?"
Giorno carefully folded Narancia's healing hand in his lap. "It's better than having the ice spread through the rest of your body. That's what happened to all the victims we found. You were lucky to have mostly dodged the hit."
"True," Narancia gasped, wincing. "Would suck to be an ice cube for Christmas." He brought Aerosmith out again, and this time the Stand was not iced over and flew up over the buildings, circling the area.
"Mista's on his way back," he said, then frowned. "Giorno, there's someone else coming. He's on the roof across from us!"
Giorno swiftly glanced up in time to see a figure standing in the dimming light, watching them from above. His form wavered as his Stand appeared and Giorno briefly caught a glimpse of it before it barreled down toward him.
"Gold Experience!" he shouted, sending his own Stand to attack, but the other one was extremely quick and in a second, icy spikes were flying out from its hands.
"Giorno!" Narancia cried, scrambling to his feet as Giorno dove out of the way. The sound of screeching tires stopped at the end of the alley, accompanied by the sound of ice shattering against bricks.
Mista surged out of the car, shooting up at the Stand user. A grunt of pain was heard before the man quickly retreated, his Stand disappearing along with him.
"Go after him!" Giorno cried, pushing himself back to his feet.
Only to have pain rip through his side.
He glanced down, opening his coat slightly to see a small trickle of blood running over his hip. There was pain, yes, but also a deep aching cold.
"Giorno!" Narancia cried, still cradling his healing arm as he came over to look. "Did you get hit?"
"Yeah," Giorno said. "It's not that bad though, let's go…"
He started shivering though, the cold spreading almost instantly through his entire body.
Mista's eyes narrowed and he put his gun away. "Look, I winged him. He'll be hurting for a while and probably go into hiding because of it. We'll go after him later, I want to get both of you home."
Giorno sighed in frustration, but he had no choice but to agree as his shivering was only getting worse and he was having a hard time standing upright. Narancia wrapped an arm around his waist as they made their way back to the car.
"I should have taken him out when I had the chance," Giorno murmured. "I blew it."
"No, I blew it by getting hit first," Narancia protested.
"Both of you just need to stop with the blame game," Mista said as he opened the back door so Giorno and Narancia could get in. The heater was on full blast and Giorno could feel the warmth hitting his skin, but he didn't really feel like it penetrated at all. Narancia took Mista's coat off his own shoulders and wrapped it around Giorno now as Mista got behind the driver's seat and hurried back to the house.
Giorno huddled in the backseat, trying to warm up, but his body didn't seem to be cooperating. In fact, he thought he was just getting colder. He could almost feel the ice stuck in his side spreading further, deeper…
By the time they got back to the house, he was shivering so much he almost couldn't walk into the house. Mista wrapped an arm firmly around him, brow furrowed in worry, as he nearly carried Giorno through the door.
Fugo was in the kitchen making tea when they passed and he looked up. "What happened?" he demanded.
"Giorno got hit," Mista said. "Can you grab all the extra blankets you can find and make some more tea?"
Fugo nodded. "You can have this tea if you want, it's hot."
"G-get Narancia s-some too," Giorno said.
"Giorno, I'm fine now!" Narancia protested. "My wrist just hurts a little. You need to worry about yourself."
Giorno pressed his lips together but allowed Mista to practically carry him upstairs to his room where he sat Giorno down on the side of the bed and helped him kick his shoes off.
Fugo came in, followed by Trish, carrying tea and armfuls of blankets.
"What happened, GioGio?" Trish demanded as she dumped the load of blankets onto the bed before coming around to face him.
Giorno shrugged out of his overcoat and started to unzip his jacket, before his fingers started to shake too much to get a grip on the zipper.
Mista quickly reached out to help and pulled Giorno's clothing away from the injury.
Trish gasped as it was revealed.
Giorno swallowed hard himself, trying to make sense of the unnatural looking wound. The ice shard had hit him about an inch above his hip, and though it had frozen over so much it barely bled, ice had formed inside the wound, starting to frost out across his skin. He brought his hand up to touch it, feeling the uncomfortable hardness of ice boring into his body, causing a deep ache inside of him.
Giorno began to shiver even harder from his exposed skin and Mista hurriedly got to work. "We need to get him warm."
"I have to take care of this first," Giorno said, gritting his teeth.
Narancia's eyes widened. "Giorno, you can't just cut half your body off!"
"No, but I might be able to cut out the part affected."
"Giorno, that's insane," Trish snapped. "There has to be another way."
"Unless we kill the Stand user, I don't think there is," Giorno said and turned to Fugo. "I may need help though, especially if I pass out…"
"No way!" Narancia snapped. "I'll let you cut off my hand, but you can't do that to yourself. We'll try to melt the ice out of the wound or something."
"I doubt that will work; Stands tend to defy logic," Giorno said. "I don't think it works like normal ice."
He summoned Gold Experience, but his Stand just stood there, holding out hands that were iced over, watching Giorno mournfully. Giorno had a sinking feeling in his stomach even before he tried to access his Stand's power and failed.
"Well…maybe I won't be able to do that after all," he said quietly.
Mista came over with an armload of thermals and sweats. "Alright, well, until we can figure this out, let's get you warm, you're shaking so much you can barely sit still."
"Where's Bucciarati?" Narancia asked worriedly.
"He and Abbacchio w-were at a meeting, don't b-bother calling him, though, I'm f-fine," Giorno said, clenching his teeth to try to keep them from chattering, but it wasn't doing much good. He was feeling colder and colder by the minute.
Narancia folded his arms over his chest. "I'm calling him."
He and Trish left to do that, while Mista and Fugo helped him into the warm clothes. They didn't seem to help much though as Giorno continued shivering even after getting into three layers. He crawled into bed propped up against the pillows as they loaded blankets on top of him.
"Th-that's a little overkill d-don't you think?" he asked.
"Not if you're still shivering this much," Mista told him.
Fugo handed him the cup of tea. "Here. It should be the perfect temperature to drink now."
Giorno cradled the mug between his hands and sipped at it, teeth knocking briefly against the lip as he continued to shiver.
The warm liquid did feel good, but it didn't do much to help his chill. In fact, the warmth settling in his stomach only seemed to exaggerate the cold that had settled in his lower belly, sending a pang of discomfort through his body.
"Is that any better?" Fugo asked him.
"M-maybe a little," Giorno said, teeth still chattering.
Fugo and Mista looked like they didn't believe him and Giorno sighed, finishing the tea and handing the empty cup back to them. "I'll need you two to go out and continue the search for the user. If he's not stopped he'll kill again."
"Yeah, we know, we'll deal with him as soon as Bucciarati gets back."
"He's on his way now," Narancia said as he came back in, plopping down on the side of Giorno's bed. "You feeling any warmer?"
Giorno formed a smile. "A bit."
"I'll get you some more tea," Trish offered.
Giorno nodded, sinking back wearily under the heavy heap of blankets, trying not to shiver as much as he wanted to. It was hard.
Bucciarati and Abbacchio got back quicker than expected as, apparently, they had already been on their way back from the meeting when Narancia called. Bucciarati hurried into the room, a deep frown on his face as he saw Giorno piled in the blankets.
"What happened? Narancia said you were hit by the Stand?" he asked with concern, coming over.
Giorno nodded, clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. A shudder ran through his body before he could stop it.
Bucciarati sat on the side of the bed, reaching up to press the back of his hand against Giorno's cheek, frowning.
"I'm o-okay," Giorno tried to say without letting his teeth chatter, but failed miserably.
"May I see the wound?" Bucciarati asked.
Giorno sighed but nodded, helping to push the blankets aside. Bucciarati almost recoiled as Giorno's hand collided with his. The man's fingers instantly wrapped around Giorno's, pressing them into his nearly burning palm.
"Giorno, your skin is freezing," he said worriedly, reluctantly setting the teen's hand back down as he reached out to lift Giorno's shirts up to reveal the wound in his side.
Giorno glanced down and swallowed hard, shivering even more violently as he saw the ice spreading from the wound, creeping around his side and under the waistband of his sweatpants.
Bucciarati brushed his fingers carefully across the area, their warmth feeling like fire on Giorno's skin.
"It's already spreading," Mista said grimly, glancing over his shoulder.
Bucciarati's lips were pressed into a worried line as he quickly bundled Giorno back under the blankets, tucking them firmly around him.
"Fugo, can you get a thermometer?" Bucciarati asked.
Fugo nodded and left the room, returning a few seconds later with the requested item. Bucciarati took it and Giorno reluctantly allowed him to put it under his tongue. When it beeped, Bucciarati checked the temperature, his expression even more worried.
"Your temperature is a lot lower than it should be," he said.
Giorno shuddered and huddled further under the blankets. "I—I'm n-not even sure I'm pro-producing b-body heat at all," he admitted reluctantly.
"If he's that cold, he probably isn't," Fugo said, brow furrowed. "If he has no body heat to trap under the blankets they're not really going to do him any good."
"Do we have any heated blankets?" Trish asked.
"No, I checked," Narancia said.
Bucciarati stood. "We have a couple heat packs for strained muscles and we can make some extra hot water bottles. Those will at least do something to add a little warmth."
"In the meantime," Narancia announced as he came over to Giorno and swiftly slid under the blankets next to him. "I don't mind sharing body heat."
Narancia was a blessed brand against Giorno's side and he couldn't help but press closer, even as he felt concern. "Narancia, y-you already h-had a chill…"
"Yeah, but like I said, I'm fine now," Narancia insisted and turned to Mista. "Come on, Mista, you're one of the warmest out of all of us."
Mista didn't hesitate as he got in on Giorno's other side, and soon the blond was sandwiched between two heat sources, breathing a little easier.
"Geez, you really are frozen, aren't you?" Mista said as he tucked an arm around Giorno's shoulders, pulling him closer.
Giorno huddled between them, still shivering. But though he could feel their warmth and it seemed to relieve him slightly at first, it never felt like it was actually soaking into his body like it should. It did nothing to stave off the frozen barbs that were digging deeper and deeper into him.
Bucciarati and Trish came back before long, carrying armloads of heat packs and makeshift hot water bottles. Mista and Narancia pulled back the covers and they tucked the packs around Giorno's body.
The heat was so intense it made Giorno flinch, but he could feel the ice burrowing deeper still, creeping up his side, despite the heat pack Bucciarati had placed directly on his stomach.
He shivered still as everyone watched him, the heat leaching from the packs by the minute.
The door opened again and Abbacchio came in, phone in hand. "Hey, I just got a tip from one of our informants about where the Stand user might be."
Bucciarati looked up with a nod. "I'll go with you to check it out. The rest of you stay here with Giorno. Let me know if he gets worse."
He met Giorno's eyes with concern before he and Abbacchio headed out.
Narancia sighed as he pressed closer to Giorno still, shivering slightly from Giorno's chill skin. "Don't worry, they'll find him in time. You know Bucciarati will tear the city up until he does. Then we can get back to our Christmas plans."
Giorno blinked, remembering that tomorrow was Christmas Eve. It was strange to think about. After all, Giorno had never really had a Christmas before. He'd actually been looking forward to it now that he had a real family, and not just a mother and stepfather who took it as yet another opportunity to get drunk and forget about him.
He hadn't been this cold since he had lived that old life. When his mother would leave him in a freezing house to fend for himself. Not even bothering to so much as leave him a blanket. Now he had people literally piling blankets on him, sharing their own body heat. Despite everything, he felt insanely comfortable smashed between Narancia and Mista and all the heat packs. In fact, he felt himself drifting off…
Giorno jolted awake to shivering and low voices.
But he wasn't the only one shivering anymore. Someone was tugging at his covers.
"It feels like a refrigerator under his blankets," Trish was saying worriedly.
Giorno blinked his eyes open, taking a deep breath. "W-what's wrong?" he murmured, teeth chattering.
Mista and Narancia were still on either side of him, but they were shaking uncontrollably now too, Narancia's teeth chattering.
"Sorry, GioGio, w-we're gonna have to get out for a c-couple minutes," Mista said.
"Y-yeah, you're freezing us t-too," Narancia added and reluctantly shifted out of the bed, grabbing a sweatshirt that Fugo handed him.
The sudden lack of body heat had Giorno falling into an even harder fit of shivers than before, teeth chattering so much he almost bit his tongue. He curled up, finding that the heat packs had long since lost all heat, now only frozen lumps in the bed beside him.
Trish bit her lip and instantly climbed onto the bed. "Look, we can take shifts. He's just going to get worse if he has no heat source," she said. "Come on, Fugo, you too. Mista, Narancia, go reheat these packs."
Fugo silently helped her pull the heat packs from around Giorno and then climbed in, hissing as he felt just how cold Giorno was.
"This Stand power is very odd," Fugo murmured. "You should be extremely hypothermic considering how low your body temperature really is, but yet you're still lucid."
Giorno shrugged shakily, burrowing deeper into the blankets.
"Is this any better?" Trish asked worriedly as she huddled closer.
Giorno hummed, not having the heart to say that it did almost nothing. But it was still better to have them there than the alternative.
More heat packs and coffee were brought. The hot drink almost felt like it was burning his insides. Giorno cautiously placed a hand against his stomach, and felt ice spreading from the wound, his skin stiff and uncomfortable. The feeling made him sick and he quickly pulled his hand away, seeking instead for Trish's fingers and wrapping his own around them, her hand feeling like a brand in his. She squeezed back anyway.
Giorno drifted off again, but woke to a sharp pain in his abdomen. He groaned, shifting to try and relieve it, but that seemed to make it worse and he gasped.
Fugo and Trish who were now shivering on either side of him sat up straighter and looked down at him worriedly.
"What's wrong?" Fugo asked.
"It—it hurts," Giorno whispered, fumbling aside the now cold heat pack to feel his stomach.
Fugo pushed the blankets aside briefly and tugged Giorno's multiple layers up to inspect the wound. He swore.
"What is it?" Trish demanded, leaning over.
Giorno glanced down and saw ice stretching over his lower ribcage now. He could also feel it creeping down over his hip and thigh, which was causing his leg to ache badly.
Trish touched the ice on his skin and it crackled slightly, causing her to instantly pull her hand away.
"It's spreading," Fugo said. "Faster than I expected it would."
They covered him up quickly and Giorno lay back limply against the pillows, closing his eyes against the growing discomfort. "They must not have found the Stand user yet," he said tiredly.
Trish pressed her lips together. "Do you think getting him into a warm bath would help?"
"It wouldn't do much more than this," Fugo shrugged helplessly, shivering slightly himself from his proximity to Giorno. "His body is leeching heat from anything around him without getting warmer. He'll be more comfortable in bed with the heat packs."
The heat packs that were freezing again. Giorno shoved them aside.
Narancia came in the door, a worried look on his face. "Bucciarati and Abbacchio are back, but they didn't find the guy. How's Giorno doing?"
Fugo sighed and started pulling the heat packs out from under the blankets. "We need to reheat these again."
Narancia's face fell further and he gathered the packs into his arms and hurried back down to the kitchen.
Bucciarati came into the room a minute later, opening a package. "We picked up a heated blanket on the way back. I'm sorry we weren't able to find him yet, Giorno, but we will."
He glanced at Trish and Fugo who were shivering again. "You two take a break, we don't need anyone else to catch cold too."
"We'll get you some more warm drinks, Giorno," Trish said as Bucciarati plugged the blanket into the wall and reached for the ones piled on Giorno, tugging them down.
"This at least won't lose heat," he said.
"Th-thank you," Giorno murmured, teeth chattering as he was exposed to the air briefly before Bucciarati wrapped the heated blanket around him, replacing the other blankets over it and cupping his cheek.
"Abbacchio's taking Mista and Narancia back out to search for the Stand user. I'll stay with you for now, while I make some calls."
Giorno nodded and turned slightly toward Bucciarati's heat as the man climbed under the pile of blankets, wrapping one arm around Giorno's shoulders and rubbing his arm comfortingly as he pulled out his phone.
Trish brought more coffee and extra pairs of fuzzy socks. Giorno tried to hold the cup but couldn't because his shivering just seemed to get worse so Bucciarati propped him up a little and held the cup while he sipped at it.
This time the hot liquid sent a wave of agony through him as it reached his stomach and he doubled over with a small moan.
"What's wrong?" Bucciarati asked worriedly, pulling the cup away.
Giorno shuttered, wrapping his arms around his middle. "Hurts," he whispered. "Think, I th-think it's f-freezing me inside t-too."
Bucciarati's brow furrowed worriedly and he shifted one hand under the blankets pressing lightly against Giorno's stomach. Giorno let out a small sound as it caused a dull ache inside of him.
"Does it hurt like it's warming you up?" Bucciarati asked.
Giorno shook his head. "No, it's…more like it's…fr-freezing whatever I d-drink inside of me."
Bucciarati pressed his lips into a worried line and set the cup aside. "Maybe you shouldn't drink anything right now then." He set his phone aside and wrapped both arms around Giorno, pulling him close to his own heat, the blankets cocooning them both.
"M'so c-cold," Giorno whimpered before he could stop himself, burrowing closer to the older man. The only time anyone had bothered to keep him warm and he couldn't even appreciate it. It seemed especially cruel in that moment.
Bucciarati only held him tighter, tucking Giorno's head underneath his chin. "It will be okay. Just try to sleep a little, all right? Reserve your strength."
Giorno sighed and burrowed further into the heat of the blankets and Bucciarati, feeling it only surrounding him. This was such a strange chill. Even as a lonely child he had been able to thaw out eventually. Now, though he had all the warmth in the world, it was doing him absolutely no good.
~~~~~~~
Bruno simply sat there and held Giorno, feeling his icy skin leach the heat from his body. It was so disconcerting feeling how cold Giorno was, and he only seemed to grow colder.
Bruno watched the clock. It was getting late. It was already long after dark and he hadn't heard from Abbacchio and the others yet.
Fugo came back up to the room with another cup of tea, but Giorno was asleep so Bucciarati took it for himself, cherishing the replenishment of warmth.
"Trish and I are trying to look through all the information we have on the Stand user," he said, taking a worried look at Giorno who was sleeping with his head tucked under Bruno's arm, sounds of discomfort escaping him every once in a while. "He's not looking good."
"The ice is spreading through his insides," Bucciarati said grimly, not at all unaware of how Giorno's body was stiffening in his arms by the hour. "I'm afraid of what might happen when it reaches his lungs."
Fugo took a deep breath, jaw set tightly. "Let's hope they find the user before then. Do you need me to spell you again?"
Bruno shook his head. "No, I'm okay with him. You and Trish keep doing what you're doing. If you find anything useful let me know."
Fugo nodded and reluctantly left.
Bruno set aside the empty cup of tea and shifted so he could share as much heat with Giorno as possible. Even though the boy was freezing, he held on, feeling the cold puffs of breath against his throat, the only indication he wasn't holding a frozen object.
His own exhaustion seemed to win out because the next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake, his own body shivering uncontrollably.
"Bruno, you're freezing, come on."
Bucciarati glanced up, teeth chattering, to see Abbacchio standing over him, concern on his face.
A wheeze startled both of them and Bruno turned back to Giorno whose face was scrunched up in pain.
Bruno sat up slightly. "Hand me the thermometer."
Abbacchio reached for the thermometer on the bedside table and Bucciarati tucked it under Giorno's tongue. When it beeped, Bruno felt sick as he saw the temperature.
"He's gotten colder," he stated grimly, trying not to let his own teeth chatter. Despite the heated blanket he felt like he'd been stuck in a freezer. He shook Giorno's shoulder gently, trying to wake him. "Giorno? Giorno."
Giorno didn't respond with anything more than a quiet moan, causing Bucciarati to worry further. He wasn't even responsive now.
Abbacchio motioned for him to stand up. "Let me spell you at least. We still haven't found the bastard."
Bruno sighed in frustration, and reluctantly relinquished Giorno. The boy whimpered and shifted on the bed.
Abbacchio pulled his overcoat off and wrapped it around Bruno's shaking body before he kicked his shoes off and climbed into bed.
"Holy shit, he really is freezing," he grunted as he slid under the blankets and sat back against the headboard, pulling Giorno against his chest. A sound of pain escaped Giorno's throat and Bruno leaned forward, reaching under the blankets to check the progress of the ice.
He did not like what he saw. The ice had crept only further up Giorno's ribcage, and the wheezing sound when he breathed confirmed that it was now likely affecting his lungs too.
"I don't think he has much longer," Bruno confided as he tucked the blankets tightly around Giorno and Abbaccio before straightening and brisking his hands over his arms to warm his body again.
Abbacchio pressed his lips together in a grim line. "We might have to start thinking of other options. There's no guarantee that we'll find the Stand user before—"
"If nothing else we can try a hot bath, but I doubt it will do much more than this."
Abbacchio sighed, pulling Giorno closer to him as if willing his own body heat to do something. Seeing the normally standoffish man clearly showing worry only made Bruno worry further.
"I'll go back out there and search myself," he said decidedly.
"Bruno, we literally looked everywhere, we should wait for someone to send in a tip—"
"It's Christmas Eve, Leone," Bruno told him firmly. "I'm not going to let Giorno die on his first Christmas with us."
Abbacchio sighed wearily, but the door suddenly burst open and Fugo hurried in. "Bucciarati! We just got a tip. Apparently, someone caused a bit of a disturbance at a clinic going to get a bullet removed. The doctors there said ice just randomly started appearing in the room and when they called in the police to report the bullet wound, the man shot ice at them and ran away."
"When was this?" Bruno demanded.
"About half an hour ago," Fugo said, handing him a note. "This is the address. But there's an old warehouse district around the area. He might be hiding out there."
Bucciarati felt hope swell in his chest. "Thank you, Fugo."
Abbacchio shifted. "You want me to go with you?"
"No, stay with Giorno, keep him warm. I'll take Mista and Narancia, their Stands will be better suited to fighting this one."
He hurried out, calling to the other two gangsters. "Come on, boys, let's go see if we can find this bastard."
"Let's save Giorno!" Narancia agreed, tugging his coat back on.
Trish watched them leave. "Please give him hell," she said firmly.
Bucciarati kissed her forehead before he left. "We will. You help the others look after Giorno."
She nodded and Bucciarati grabbed the car keys and the three of them took off into the falling night, hoping they would be able to find the man responsible for the current state of their young Don.
Darkness was setting in as they drove slowly towards the warehouse district. Bruno parked the car between two of the rather dilapidated buildings and turned the lights off to avoid notice.
"Narancia, see if you can find anyone," he told the younger boy as they got out of the car.
Narancia had Aerosmith fly over the area and before long, seemed to spot something. "I see one signature. I'll bet it's him," he said.
"Sounds good," Mista replied grimly, loading his gun. "Point me in the right direction."
"Hold on, he's moving…he's coming toward us!"
Bucciarati summoned Sticky Fingers and glanced around, ready, but Narancia gave a shout before he could do anything and Aerosmith let out a stream of bullets.
A chuckle came from the rooftop of one of the warehouses after the barrage.
"Not gonna chance getting shot again," a voice said. "And I'm not gonna let you get away so easily this time."
All three of them dove behind the car as a hail of ice shards whizzed toward them, pounding into the side of the vehicle. Mista cursed and crouched, raising his gun to return fire but the Stand user seemed to be able to create a shield with his ice ability.
"I think it's gonna take more than firepower to take this bastard down," Mista grunted.
Bucciarati narrowed his eyes. "If you and Narancia lay down a cover fire, I'll see if I can get up on that roof—take him out from behind."
Mista and Narancia both nodded and got ready to fire.
When the bullets started flying, Bucciarati darted from behind the car, escaping into the shadows as he made his way around the building to find a way onto the roof. Every second counting down was one where Giorno was slowly freezing solid and he knew they had no time to waste.
~~~~~~~
Abbacchio accepted the cup of tea Trish brought him, drinking it gratefully. He could feel a chill already starting to set in from holding Giorno.
"Should we try to get him to drink something too?" Trish asked.
Abbacchio shook his head. "If he's freezing inside, then drinking will probably just make it worse."
Giorno tensed in his arms and let out a croak of pain, eyes squeezing tighter. He'd been suffering a lot more in the past half hour and seemed to be in quite a bit of pain. His breathing had also gotten worse. Abbacchio could even see the labored breaths puffing from between his lips.
Trish reached out and carefully wiped some frozen tear drops off his eyelashes. "What are we going to do if they don't find the Stand user soon?" she asked. "He can't stay like this much longer."
"I know," Abbacchio replied grimly, readjusting the heated blanket for all the good it was doing. "We just have to hope they will."
Fugo came in with more heat packs and he and Trish swiftly tucked them against Giorno's skin.
"I don't even think these are doing any good anymore," he admitted.
Abbacchio cast one more glance down at Giorno's face as he let out another soft whimper. There was ice forming at the corners of his mouth and eyes, inside his nostrils. It felt like Abbacchio was holding onto an icicle rather than a human being.
"Let's try getting him into a bath. Go get it ready, as hot as you can," he told them.
Fugo and Trish hurried off and a few minutes later it was full enough. Abbacchio reluctantly abandoned the pile of blankets and picked Giorno up. The boy's body was stiff, almost unbendable. Giorno let out a soft keen of pain, one hand groping at Abbacchio's shirt as he hurried into the bathroom.
With Fugo's help he stripped Giorno down to the layer of thermals and dunked him into the steaming water.
It was hot enough to scald his own skin and the steam billowed up from the difference in temperatures. Giorno jerked weakly, mouth parting in discomfort as Abbacchio pushed him into the water until it was only his face above the surface.
"The steam might help his breathing too," Fugo said, worriedly standing to one side, arms crossed.
Abbacchio had his hand braced on the back of Giorno's neck to keep his head above the water, heart wrenching at the pained sounds escaping the kid's throat. He didn't like how quickly he could feel the water cooling down though. He turned to Fugo.
"Start adding more hot water. I think we're gonna have to keep it a constant thing."
Even as he spoke, he could see thin icy patches forming around Giorno's face where it broke the water. He brushed them away before relinquishing Giorno's care to Trish as he grabbed a bucket and started lifting the cooling water out as Fugo turned the hot water tap up all the way, keeping a constant flow into the tub.
"It doesn't seem to be helping at all," Trish said, distraught as she brushed more flakes of ice away from Giorno's face.
Abbacchio gritted his teeth and knelt, reaching into the bath and wrestling Giorno's sodden shirt up. The ice was covering him up to mid chest now and his breathing was becoming nothing more than short, whistling gasps.
"What are we going to do?" Trish demanded, tears in her eyes. "A few more minutes and he won't be able to breathe!"
Fugo suddenly stepped forward. "Trish, can Spice Girl make his lungs elastic? If she can, then even with the ice he should be able to breathe, right?"
Trish instantly called her Stand out and Spice Girl slipped an incorporeal hand into Giorno's chest.
A second later, Giorno's breathing actually started to even out. Trish took a shuddering breath of relief.
"Good, that bought him some time," Abbacchio said. "At least until it reaches his heart."
"We'll just have to hope Bucciarati and the others find the Stand user before then," Fugo said grimly.
~~~~~~~~
Bucciarati climbed up onto the roof. The Stand user was still occupied by Mista and Narancia's cover fire, crouching behind a skylight. Aerosmith flew over and shot directly at the man, but his Stand was somehow able to deflect the bullets every time with a sheet of ice.
Bucciarati crouched, watching, looking for some kind of opening as Aerosmith flew away again, getting ready to circle back. The Stand user's ice shield dropped and Bucciarati got to his feet, getting ready to attack.
He didn't take one step forward before the man spun around, his Stand appearing in a flurry of ice shards.
Bruno dashed across the roof toward another skylight, diving behind it as the ice shattered around him on impact.
"Think you're clever? I knew you were there the whole time," the Stand user said. "Looks like we're at an impasse now."
Bucciarati stood up and dashed toward another skylight. The man seemed surprised and wasn't ready to throw more ice at him. As soon as Bruno was behind cover again, he unzipped the floor, sinking down into the void Sticky Fingers had created.
He moved through it before opening another zipper just behind the man, slipping out and—
The man's Stand sprung up, throwing ice as Bruno dodged. He didn't quite get all the way out of range though, because one shard struck him high in the arm, the cold shooting through his body like an artic wind, making him gasp.
The man stood in front of him laughing. "I knew you would try something. Where that shard hit you, it's only going to be a matter of minutes before the ice reaches your heart."
Bruno reached up and swiftly unzipped his arm, the cold disappearing with it as it fell away.
While the man's shocked eyes were locked on the falling arm, Sticky Fingers shot forward and unzipped both the man's arms so he couldn't use his Stand again.
Bruno strode up to him, glancing over the edge of the roof to see Narancia and Mista waiting below.
"No one should have to freeze to death at Christmas time," he told the man firmly. "I think hot lead is better suited for you."
And he kicked the man backwards. As he fell with a shout, Mista and Narancia's bullets sounded in the night right before a sick thud below.
Bruno went over to pick up his arm, reattaching it. There was no ice or cold left in the limb, only a bit of blood from the fresh wound, which he quickly zipped shut.
Now he just hoped Giorno would be feeling the same effects.
He rejoined Narancia and Mista who were standing over the body.
"I'll call in some soldati to take care of this," Bruno told them. "Let's get back to Giorno."
"Yeah," Narancia agreed. "If everything's okay, maybe we can still have Christmas?"
Bucciarati huffed a soft laugh as they got into the car. "Of course we'll still have Christmas, Narancia."
~~~~~~~
Abbacchio pulled another bucket of chilled water out of the tub, shoulders aching from the continued work. He worried the hot water would run out before they could do anything about Giorno.
When he turned back to check if he would need to get rid of more water, he heard Trish gasp.
"What's wrong?" Fugo demanded, returning to the side of the tub.
"He's bleeding," Trish said, pointing to the thin trail of red drifting in the water.
Abbacchio knelt quickly and reached in to pull Giorno's shirt up, exposing the wound in his side.
And pink, pliable flesh.
He let out a sigh of relief, turning the water off. "The ice is gone. They must have taken out the Stand user."
Trish sobbed in relief, getting up to grab towels.
Abbacchio pressed his fingers to Giorno's throat, feeling his pulse finally starting to beat steadily again. His breathing was no longer labored. His face was even pink like it should be from the steam of the tub.
The phone rang and Fugo instantly answered it. "Yes—yes, he's fine. He's gonna be okay," he said, voice shaking slightly.
"I take it they're on their way back?" Abbacchio asked.
Fugo nodded, relif in his eyes. "It's all taken care of."
"I'll go grab him some dry clothes," Trish said and hurried off.
A few minutes later, they had Giorno out of the tub and dried off. After they bandaged up his wound, they wrapped him in warm soft clothing and bundled him back into his bed. He was still a bit chilled, but his body was actually retaining heat again, warming nicely underneath the heated blanket.
Abbacchio took his temperature again and found it was only a couple degrees lower than it should have been now.
"Can we call this a Christmas miracle?" Trish asked with a fond smile as she sat on the side of Giorno's bed, rolling his damp hair in a towel to dry it.
Abbacchio rolled his eyes. "I think I'd rather call it having reliable friends."
"I'll take that," Trish agreed.
~~~~~~~
Giorno blinked awake almost reluctantly. He was so warm and comfortable he didn't really have any desire to move. Well, there was an ache in his side, but besides that, everything felt like bliss.
Which…was weird, because he could have sworn the last thing he had been aware of was freezing to death.
He finally opened his eyes when he felt the bed dip as if someone was sitting on it and saw Bucciarati perched there. His mouth was curved pleasantly but there was concern in his eyes.
"Are you awake?" he asked quietly.
Giorno hummed, not sure he had the strength to speak quite yet. "I think so," he murmured.
Bucciarati's smile widened and he reached out to brush some hair from his face. "How are you feeling?"
Giorno furrowed his brow. "Good…I think."
"Well, your temperature's back to normal and you've been sleeping for about twelve hours," Bucciarati told him. "If you're feeling up to it, I think the others would love for you to join them."
Giorno furrowed his brow, glancing at the clock on his bedside table. "What's going on?"
"Merry Christmas, Giorno," Bucciarati said with a fond look.
Realization flowed over him and Giorno gave a fond smile back. "Oh," was all he said. "I had…forgotten."
Bruno chuckled and offered him a hand. "Well, considering everything that happened, I can't really blame you. Come on. I think some hot chocolate would do you good."
Giorno got up, a bit stiff, and, still wrapped in a blanket, headed downstairs with Bucciarati to where the others were waiting in the living room.
"Giorno! Merry Christmas!" Narancia cried, getting up from where he was sitting next to their tree and hurrying over to throw his arms around the blond, quickly making sure he was in a comfortable spot and depositing several presents onto his lap. "Bucciarati said we couldn't open anything until you got up. I can't wait to see what you got me!"
"Calm down and give the kid some breathing room," Abbacchio grunted, clutching a cup of coffee. "It's too early for you to be this loud." He met Giorno's eyes and gave him a nod, though, not doing anything to hide the relief in his eyes.
"Yeah, come here, Narancia, I'll let you open the one from me first," Mista said, calling the boy back over to the pile of presents under the tree. As he passed Giorno, he ruffled his hair fondly. "Good to see you up again, kiddo."
Trish deposited a cup of cocoa into Giorno's hands and he clutched the warmth close, shuddering at the memory of being so cold.
"Are you okay, Giorno?" Bucciarati asked him.
Giorno took a sip of the cocoa, and smiled as the rich chocolate hit his tongue and warmed him all the way down to his stomach.
"Yes," he said sincerely. "I'm fine now. Merry Christmas, everyone."
"Merry Christmas," everyone returned, even Abbacchio.
It felt strange to say it, and even more to have the phrase returned so affectionately, but the atmosphere was warm and comfortable and Giorno wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else at that time. If this was what it felt like to celebrate the holidays with a real family, then Giorno thought he could probably get used to it.