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When the weather reports come in, so too do the calls for you and Zayne. Jenna needs you on duty to help anybody who gets trapped in the oncoming blizzard, and Zayne needs to be at the hospital to help emergency patients and those sheltering from the storm.
It’s hours before the storm is supposed to roll in when you begin getting ready. Zayne helps you find heavy-duty waterproof gloves and don enough layers to keep you moderately warm while you work. You pack Zayne emergency snacks and drinks. He tucks one of the protein bars into your coat pocket.
The tension of the danger that lies ahead is palpable. Rescue missions aren’t unusual for either of you, but keeping up with communication and the unpredictable nature of what could happen will make things very tricky, very fast.
You hold his hand as he drives to the hospital. The Alpha Team will be setting up base there to account for the high influx of patients. The perimeter will reach a few blocks. Whether you stay within it remains to be seen.
It would be hypocritical of him to tell you not to risk your life for the sake of another, more so than his usual hypocrisy when it comes to taking care of himself, so he doesn’t say that. Instead, he tells you, “Don’t be reckless.”
You smile. “I won’t be,” you promise.
Both of you know it’s a lie, whether you intend for it to be or not. You’ve always thrown yourself into danger at the drop of a hat. Now, as a Hunter, the danger keeps growing, and you still charge head-first into it.
He squeezes your hand.
The hospital bustles with preparations. Gurneys are lined along the halls, prepared to be filled once the last of the rooms fill up. Nurses are preparing stations to provide food, drinks, and blankets to anybody who needs it. Doctors offer contingency plans for a million different hypotheticals while dictating what patients should go where.
Jenna and your team help where they can. Nero is setting up a communication station that should make it possible to keep in touch during the storm. Tara is helping to set up Hunter Watches with emergency beacons, just in case anything does happen.
The storm is mere hours away.
Zayne removes his scarf and wraps it around you. You smile up at him reassuringly as he tucks the ends into your jacket. “Stay in contact.”
“I will. Every step, the team will know about it.”
He smiles slightly. “Good.” Not one for PDA, he nods to you, a silent wish of good luck and a quiet plea to come back to him in one piece. You return it, wishing him the same and promising to make it back even if it kills you.
And then he’s with the other doctors, preparing for the worst.
You jog over to your team. Tara beams at you, taking your wrist and setting up the beacon. Jenna debriefs you on what you need to do. Nero double checks that your comms will work.
It feels like no time has passed at all before the trouble begins.
-
Your snowmobile cuts over the snow piled on top of the blacktop. Tire tracks are quickly covered up or blown away. Cars sit parked on the side of the road or haphazardly abandoned right in the middle. The wind bites at your face like sharp teeth made of ice. The scarf around your mouth and nose prevents it from stealing your breath. Goggles protect your eyes, though the snow steals your visibility. Your hands have already started to go numb, but you press on.
The GPS on the snowmobile is glitching and useless with the storm blocking its signal. You have to rely on your knowledge of the area and Jenna’s voice in your ear directing you. There was a distress call sent in from a nearby park. It’s out of the set perimeter, but you’re the closest person available to help.
“The victim has a road flare available to them. Tell me when you’re in the area.”
“I’m almost at the entrance. I’ll go in on foot.”
“Careful. Don’t lose your way. Do you have anything to act as a marker?”
You pull up at the familiar iron gates of the park. You and Zayne come here for picnics when you have days off, so you know it pretty well by now. You dismount and try to find anything to use as a tether or beacon, but you just don’t have the resources. “I don’t.”
Jenna sighs. You really are her most reckless Hunter. “Call out the direction of the flare. Use it to retrace your steps back.”
“Understood.” You pull the scarf tighter around your ears as you head into the park. The snow is powdery beneath your feet, covering up your boots with every step. When you glance behind, your footprints are already gone. “Tell them to light the flare.”
Wind whips around, kicking up snow into your face and sneaking into your many layers. Once you get back, Jenna will send out another Hunter while you warm up and help at base. Just a few more minutes in the cold, and you can rest. The prospect urges you to keep pushing on, even as the damp begins collecting in your socks.
A faint pink glow pierces the haze. The light is diffused so much you almost miss it. “Spotted. North west from the entrance.”
The park feels like a deserted tundra the deeper in you go. You can’t see the iron fence that blocks it in, only the trees scattered around, barren or otherwise full of pine needles. You try to name what kind of tree they are, to help you on your way back.
On the left, a sycamore.
On the right, a pine tree.
Feet feel like miles, dragging on as the cold begins to seep in.
The glow of the flare disappears just ahead of you. Through the snow, you see the vague outline of a person. You pull down your scarf, exposing your mouth to the incoming agony of chapped lips, and cup your hands.
“HEY!” you shout. “CAN YOU HEAR ME?”
A muffled reply is swept away in the blizzard. With a bolstered resolve, you block the wind with your arm and push onwards. It isn’t much longer before the silhouette begins to clear.
Your watch beeps with a Metaflux warning. You’re frozen to the spot as you watch the horrific sight.
A Wanderer, some sort of knave, hunches over a body. A thin blanket flutters around the corpse, obscuring the figure. Red snow melts around them. The Wanderer’s arm is coated in the same red, seemingly fascinated with the spent flare as it prods it out of the victim’s hand.
“There’s a Wanderer,” you say through the comm. The creature’s head snaps up to you. You fumble for your gun, too tucked away to get to easily. It charges, blade-arms raised.
-
“Can you hear me?” Jenna tries again. It’s all static. Nero frantically tries reconnecting the link, but to no avail. “Have they lit their beacon yet?”
He shakes his head. “No. No, not yet.”
Tara gasps softly, hands covering her mouth as she stares at the holographic map. A red error warns of the lack of a signal, waiting for any sort of input to track. “What are we going to do?”
Jenna taps her finger on her arm.
Zayne helps someone in from outside. The snow gusts after them until the doors are pushed shut, chilling the lobby. He notices the red glow from the corner of his eye. His heart plummets to his stomach.
Trying to keep a level head, he passes the minorly injured person to a nurse, and rushes over. “What happened?” he demands.
Jenna looks at him from the corner of her eye, before fully turning to face him. “You’re close with Y/N, aren’t you?”
He nods. It only confirms his suspicions: something happened to you.
“They were answering a distress call when their line went dead. We believe they were attacked by a Wanderer, though the amount or type is unclear. They haven’t lit their beacon yet-”
“Captain!” Tara cries. “They lit it!”
She turns back to the map. The red error is gone, replaced with a blinking yellow icon. Zayne leans forward, reading the road labels.
“Do you have another snowmobile?” he asks.
“I can’t send a civilian into this storm.”
“I have extensive experience with search and rescue missions like this, Captain. And I know the area well. Along with my Evol, I should be able to retrieve them with little trouble.” He’s already buttoning his coat as he speaks, tucking his glasses away for safekeeping.
Jenna smirks. “You won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, will you?”
His ears are tinted pink as he looks away. You really are a bad influence on him.
“Here.” She grabs a bracelet-like device and wraps it around his wrist. “This way we’ll be able to track you through the storm.” Then she hands him a small earpiece. “Keep in touch. There’s another snowmobile outside.”
-
The storm hasn’t gotten any better by the time he reaches the park.
His cheeks are red from the cold, eyes bleary from the wind, and anxiety grips his heart like a vise. He parks his snowmobile beside yours. Snow has thoroughly covered the seat and skis.
He announces his arrival to your team. They lead him in the direction of your distress beacon.
The wind is deafening. The most recent weather reports predict that the storm will die down in a couple hours, but that’s far too long to wait for you to survive through.
Snow collects on his jacket as he blocks his face. The snow on the ground almost reaches his mid-calf, making movement difficult. But he powers through. He must. The thought of you dying out here, slow and alone, chills him to the bone even more than the blizzard, even more than his Evol. He refuses to let that happen.
A plastic wrapper, half-buried in the snow, catches his attention. He kneels down to look at it. The familiar colors and branding of the protein bar he stuffed in your pocket greets him. If this is yours, it means you’re alive enough to eat.
He shoves it into his pocket and keeps going.
“The map says they’re nearby,” your captain says through his earpiece several minutes later. He leans against a sycamore tree for cover. “Directly ahead of you.”
He shoves off and continues trudging forward. A dark shape under the snow 10 feet away catches his attention. His chest is tight as he drops down and begins uncovering it. It feels like his heart has stopped completely when he reveals the back of your coat.
He calls your name, digging his arms underneath your body to lift you and rest you against his chest. He bites the finger of his glove to pull it off. Your skin is ice cold as he feels for a pulse…
It takes nearly a minute before he feels the faint beat of your heart. He assesses you for any injuries. It doesn’t take long to find one.
Across your stomach is a long slash. Your clothes are torn, revealing ice-bitten skin and the jagged edges of your wound. When he looks, he can see a long trail in the snow, already being filled in. He can just imagine the agony you must have been in, trying to crawl through the snow back to safety. Eating your protein bar for a boost of energy, just to keep going.
He slips his glove back on and cradles you tightly to his chest as he stands and heads back the way he came.
“I found them. I’m heading back now.”
He’s back at the sycamore tree when your watch beeps. A glowing ring appears around your wrist, red with warning. He hears the Wanderer’s cry on the other side of the tree.
He quickly kneels down, supporting your body in his lap and cradling you with one arm, while the other calls ice to his hand. His face is set, eyes sharp. The second the creature rounds the trunk, he’s hurling ice at its chest.
Memories of fighting Wanderers in the mountains, of losing his friend, burn in his chest. Zayne fights with unyielding determination to get you home.
-
It’s warm. Almost too warm. Memories of playing outside in the snow as a child, only to come in and have burning sensations on your fingers and face, drift lazily through your mind.
There’s a weight on top of you. It’s too hot.
Lifting your arms feels like a monumental task. Trying to shove the blanket off is even harder. You’re panting before you’ve even uncovered your chest.
It’s suddenly pulled off of you, uncovering your legs from the burdensome heat. The cooler air of the room sends goosebumps all down your arms.
“Don’t move too much.”
Your head lolls to the side. Your eyelids are impossibly heavy. You’re so tired. You try to speak, but it comes out as garbled nonsense.
“Shh. You’re on a lot of pain medication right now.” Something soft touches your forehead. You stop fighting to keep your eyes open. “Get some sleep.”
You dream of building snowmen and drinking hot cocoa.
The next time you come to, your whole body aches. Your muscles scream in agony with every little twitch. The worst of it comes from your belly; a persistent sting that brings immediate tears to your eyes. You gasp and whimper as your hand tries searching for the source of your pain.
Something grabs your hand and pulls it away, holding it tenderly to the side. “Does it hurt?”
You whimper again, nodding pathetically.
“Okay. It’s okay. Give it a minute. It’ll go away soon.”
You try forcing your eyes open again. They don’t feel as heavy now. You can start to make out Zayne’s dark hair, the focus on his face as he makes adjustments to the equipment you’re hooked up to.
Slowly, the pain ebbs into a dull ache. He turns his attention back to you.
“Feel better?”
You nod again slightly. He smiles softly, but it looks like he’s struggling with it.
“Mhnn, what happened?” you slur.
He squeezes your hand gently, running his thumb over the bandages wrapped around your fingers.. The skin underneath is dry and cracked from the cold and the self-destruction of your crawling, but your blood runs warm underneath. “What do you remember?” he asks instead.
You blink, frowning with concentration. You remember the blizzard. Getting ready with Zayne in the morning. Meeting your team in the hospital. A dozen or so back-and-forth rescues. And then…
The barren trees appear in your mind through a haze. Dark red against melting snow. Fabric flapping wildly in the wind.
“The Wanderer…”
Zayne nods slowly. “Your comms went down. Your team couldn’t contact you at all.”
“Yeah, it…” You subconsciously reach for your ear, as though trying to find the earpiece. “It knocked it off when I dodged away.”
“And then you set off your beacon.”
A timid look comes over your face. He sighs, already knowing what you’re going to say. He pinches the bridge of his nose.
“I fought it off first. My gun was hard to reach, but-”
“So you waited until it was dead to alert anybody else to your struggle, even though it could have killed you before you ever got the chance.” It wasn’t a question. You can’t meet his eyes. Even after promising him to be careful, to stay in contact with your team at all times, you still put your life in unnecessary danger.
“‘M sorry…”
He sighs.
You look at him again, studying his attire. It’s buttoned all the way to his neck. His tie is crooked. “What happened after that?”
“Your captain gave me what I needed to rescue you myself,” he starts. You cut him off with wide eyes.
“She let you go on your own?”
He grins wryly, but the pinch in his brow shows just how strained it is. “You’re a terrible influence on me, you know that?”
You grin, too. You nod for him to continue.
A darkness covers his eyes. Bright hazel dimmed by the emotions that were still warring within him, battling with the relief that you’re still alive. “I found you buried in the snow,” he murmurs. “You were barely alive. The Wanderer didn’t hit anything vital, but you’d still lost a lot of blood. Paired with the frostbite… It’s a miracle you still have your extremities.
“I rushed you back to the hospital. We immediately began treating you with a heated IV. Once you were stable, we started you on a blood transfusion and treated your wound.” He nods to your stomach where your pain still lingers.
You look down at yourself. The blanket is still pulled off of you, folded off to the side. The snap-front gown they put you in allows for easy access to your stomach. You can see the bandages through a couple of the snaps.
Your eyes slowly trail to your connected hands. Your fingers are individually wrapped. His warmth seeps in through the bandages. But there’s something else…
You carefully pry your hand from his so yours is on top. He lets you, watching your movements for any discomfort. Your fingers glide over the faded scars of his hand, up to his sleeve. He pulls away when you push back the cuff, but you’ve already seen the glimpse of a bandage wrapped around his arm.
“You’re hurt, too.”
“It’s superficial.”
“Since when has that mattered to you?” you tease.
He glares at you, but there’s hardly any venom behind it. He looks away, readjusting his sleeve all the while. “More Wanderers appeared after I found you. A couple scratches here and there, but nothing serious,” he dismisses.
You seek out his hand again. There’s a quirk to your lip, one that belies the mischief in your actions, yet he gives himself to you anyway. You trace up the same pattern as before and struggle to undo the button of his sleeve. He undoes it for you. You’re unrelenting at the best of times; it’s easier not to fight it. He even lifts it up slightly, fully revealing the wrap around his wrist and forearm. The soft gauze padding can be seen through the thin material, outlining where the injury really is.
“Some couple we are,” you murmur. “We get hurt and we deny it with our every breath.”
He huffs a laugh. “Two self-sacrificing fools.”
You hum with a nod, continuing to trace over his injury. The mirth begins to drain from your face. “I’m sorry… For not calling for help sooner. For letting you get dragged into the mess I created.”
“I think you’re giving yourself too much credit, my love,” he whispers reassuringly as he slides his fingers up your wrist until he’s holding your hand again. He brings your bandaged knuckles to his lips. You watch the way his lips curve against your minor wounds. “I will always come to your aid, by my own choice, whether you created the ‘mess’ or not.”
“I love you,” you whisper in return.
He kisses your knuckles again. “The feeling is mutual.”
You pinch his chin playfully. He chuckles. “Get some rest. I’ll get something for you to eat.”
He lowers your hand back to the bed and stands up. His fingers work nimbly to button his sleeve and fix it once more. You catch his hand before he can turn to leave. He looks down at you attentively. You could ask him for the stars and he’d pluck every single one from the sky to give to you. You smile sweetly up at him, that familiar glint in your eye giving your tricks away.
“Does the hospital serve hot chocolate?”