Archive of Our Own

Zanka Nijiku.

Tomme opens the portion of her notebook that she's set aside for learning more about the Givers at headquarters. Zanka isn't someone she has a lot of information on, so she's looking forward to this opportunity to work with him directly. She studies the page as she waits for him in the lobby with Semiu. She's way early.

Sixteen or seventeen years old. Tomme hasn't gotten ahold of his birthdate yet, which is apparently information he doesn't want to give out. She imagines it has something to do with his teammates, who go out of their way to embarrass him, it seems.

It's a little bit of a strange combination. Riyo is a carbon copy of Enjin. If she didn't known their ages, she might be inclined to think Riyo is his daughter with the way that they act around each other. Zanka stands out a lot between the two of them - in his posture, the way he talks, nearly everything, but they get along perfectly. They work together like a state of the art machine, especially on the battlefield.

Zanka appears, and Semiu starts the debriefing.

It’s a job that needs someone who speaks the language from Kamuatari. Zanka is, apparently, the only one at headquarters who can - Enjin seems to understand a decent amount, but he can't hold a conversation. Tomme was selected to go along, since, according to Semiu, she’s their best Scribe. They’re receiving information about a Trash Beast in the North Ward from a Kamuatari native, who claims to have seen one in an abandoned factory.

Zanka is someone they'll frequently send out on his own with just a handful of Supporters - or even just one, like in this case. His superiors have a lot of trust in him. He's a very skilled fighter. Tomme is looking forward to working with him, and learning from him.

“Zanka Nijiku,” he introduces, once Semiu has finished debriefing him. They've met before in passing, but this is their first time on a job together.

He reaches out his hand, and Tomme shakes it.

“Tomme Mima. I'm looking forward to being your Supporter.”

She didn’t think that things would go downhill so quickly.

“Zanka,” Tomme stammers nervously. She doesn’t know how long it’s been since she managed to rescue him, but it’s been long enough with no sign of life that Tomme is seriously considering doing chest compressions. His skin is white, his lips are nearly blue. Tomme is almost holding her breath, listening for any sign that he might be breathing, that he might be alive.

Finally, though, he gives her a sign that he can hear her. He takes a breath. Shallow, at first, and then very suddenly, he's starting to cough. It's just once or twice, at first, but soon enough, the water that must have filled his lungs while he was underneath the ice starts to fill his mouth with each cough, trailing down the sides of his fade past his lips.

Tomme has to turn him on his side. At this point, there’s no way he hasn't already aspirated, but she needs to make sure it doesn't get worse than it already has. He keeps coughing, choking up water, his eyes screwed shut.

He's honestly lucky he didn't die from the shock, but then again, this is Zanka. Everything Tomme has learned about Zanka is just continued proof that he's a machine of a fighter in every way.

A frozen over pit of water in the middle of an abandoned factory, and a crack that dropped Zanka right in the middle. They were asked to investigate Trash Beasts in the area, and the possibility of them living inside the factory, but this was a nightmare situation that neither of them were prepared for.

It's a miracle that she was able to get him out without falling in herself. The ice was already awfully unstable where Zanka fell, because of a leak in the piping above them never allowing the ice in that section to completely freeze. Tomme didn't even realize they were standing on a frozen water corridor until it was too late.

The water is very likely polluted, but Tomme has to address that later. The current problem is that Zanka could freeze to death.

He collapsed completely as soon as Tomme was able to drag him far enough so he wasn't in danger of falling in again, but even now that he's conscious, they're in trouble.

This is really, really bad. Life threatening.

“‘M fine,” Zanka mumbles, even as his body goes limp, unable to hold himself up at all after that coughing fit, but all Tomme sees is more danger signs. The color is back in his lips, but he’s horribly pale. His wet hair sticks and almost looks like it’s starting to freeze against his forehead, and his uniform is completely and utterly soaked through. Zanka’s already practically freezing, but now she’s certain he has water in his lungs because of how much he coughed out. He’s in serious danger of hypothermia and pneumonia in a state like this.

“Take this off,” Tomme says, “I'll give you my jacket.”

Zanka’s eyes give her a look like he wants to refuse. It's obvious why. Tomme has a long sleeved undershirt underneath her winter uniform jacket, but it's nothing near enough to protect her from the cold. He must understand that he'll be much worse off, completely soaked like this, in this weather. He tries to lift himself off of the ground, but he can’t do it without her help - his arms are shaking too much to be reliable.

She’s able to help him sit up, but once his eyes start to drift, they widen further than Tomme has ever seen them, staring off into the innards of the factory.

“There - there’s - one here,” Zanka breathes out, his hand weakly reaching behind him to grasp his staff, secured against his back.

Tomme’s attention turns to where Zanka’s eyes are fixed.

It’s massive. It takes up the entire inside of the back corner of the factory - a mammoth shaped beast with tusks jutting out in their direction, covered in ice as if it’s been frozen there for centuries. Tomme doesn’t understand how something this massive could traverse the inside of this factory without leaving a mark obvious enough for them to notice. Was it so still before that they didn’t even register its presence?

How did it get inside?

Tomme hopes with everything in her power that it’s not real, this isn’t an actual Trash Beast, but the fogged breath from its nostrils and the roar that follows is proof enough.

It charges at them, and Zanka shoves Tomme out of the way, his staff transforming in a matter of seconds. It’s as if his condition doesn’t faze him at all. Tomme sees his hands shake, he sees he’s unsure in his stance, but he doesn’t let any of it stop him, not even for a second. It’s as if none of this ever happened to begin with. A second wind unlike anything she’s ever seen.

Tomme’s in a far corner behind a wall, scribbling down everything she can in her notebook. The sequence of events is very strange and confusing, and she needs to make sure she gets this information down before it leaves her, while Zanka is able to take care of the threat.

It’s incredible, how quickly he’s able to vanquish it. How quickly silence fills the factory.

She turns the corner to inspect what’s happened. Zanka’s staff is lodged in the Trash Beast’s neck, massive spikes impaled through its next, and it’s already starting to fall to pieces. It’s likely it was too slow to get the jump on Zanka, and it didn’t make any sort of move to fight them - Zanka noticed it first, but still, its sheer size would be difficult for just anyone to take down with a single swing. Zanka is somehow able to keep himself standing, hold himself together long enough for the Trash Beast to fall apart completely.

Zanka is still, but once his staff isn’t lodged in the Beast, once it has nothing to hold onto, his body collapses back onto the ground, his staff clattering on the ground beside him.

Tomme runs over, her eyes scanning the premises for any other threats before she’s standing over his shaking, shivering form.

“Can you stand?” Tomme asks him quietly. Zanka vanquished that Beast in under a minute, and despite the fact that this encounter only left more questions than answers for their clients, Zanka’s condition is at the very forefront of her mind. This is bad.

She's cycling through their options in her head. They definitely can't head back to headquarters, it's a twelve hour drive back from here and their vehicle doesn't produce heat very well when it's this cold. It's okay as a temporary solution, but she needs a different goal.

The next town is an hour away, based on what she could tell from the map she studied before they left. Taking him there to warm up is probably a good idea, until she knows he's safe and she can take him back home. She can find an infirmary, a hotel, somewhere for him to warm up and recover before they head back to headquarters.

But it won't be that simple. Zanka coughed up water. That means it's in his lungs, and that's a completely different problem. And hypothermia is a huge threat. He could get really, really sick.

He's shivering violently. Tomme is trying to think of ways to warm him up, but right now, their only real option is to get him back to the car. She unzips his uniform top. It’s heavy, holding onto that awfully cold water and creating a burning sensation in her hands from how cold it is as she tries to peel it off of him, pulling it off of Zanka’s arms.

He's breathing hard, completely without the energy to lift himself up. Maybe he could have before the Trash Beast appeared, but he used all of his available energy to finish the job.

She still can’t believe he managed that in a condition like this.

“Zanka, can you hear me?” she asks him, and he gives her a shaky nod.

Once she's able to get him upright, at least on his knees, she finally removes her coat, and wraps it around Zanka's shoulders. The rush of cold air against her skin, even through the thermal undershirt she had on, is enough to almost bring her to her knees. 

“Let's get out of here. Can you walk?” she asks, taking his shaking hands to help him stand. He can hardly manage it. It seems like his legs don't want to cooperate, that they're more focused on shivering to generate body heat for him, but he pushes through it, leaning against Tomme for support. She takes his staff in her hand so that he doesn't have to worry about that.

They parked the car outside of the building, but she doesn't want Zanka outside while she gets it situated, while she waits for it to warm up. He's better off with her coat, but his undershirt, his pants, his hair - everything is still soaked with frozen water, and she can see with her own eyes how strands of his hair start to freeze. His eyelashes. 

He's overtaken by a violent, painful fit of coughing that brings him back down to his knees and ends in him choking up more water onto the floor. Tomme kneels down beside him, now terribly concerned with the tinges of blood she sees in what he coughs up.

“I’ll go turn the car on and blast the heat. Stay here,” Tomme says, “we can stop somewhere to get you dry clothes.”

He doesn't acknowledge that he's heard her. He's staring down at his shaking hands with wide eyes. Tomme wishes she knew what he was thinking, but now isn't the time to interrogate him.

The reality of the situation they're in doesn't hit her until she's outside in the snow storm.

People freeze to death. That's a real thing that happens.

Zanka was recovering from a cold this week. It had turned into just a cough. She didn't know about it until their drive out here, where he ended up apologizing and assuring her that he was cleared now, and wasn't contagious. It's no doubt aggravating the current situation, and definitely going to make him feel worse.

She's too caught up in her own thoughts to realize right away that as she turns the key, the engine just sputters instead of starting.

“Come on, you piece of junk…” she mutters, hitting her elbow against the steering wheel, hoping that will give it the kick it needs. This one's an older model. They needed it to drive out in the snow this far into the North Ward. But it should still start. It has to.

She tries again. It sputters, and almost starts, but there’s nothing promising after that. Just silence, snow falling against the windshield.

One more time. She bites her lip so hard it almost bleeds.

This time, it doesn't even make a sound.

“It's stalled,” she huffs under her breath. “Dammit…dammit!”

Her hands shiver as she pulls the key out. The metal of the key is so cold to the touch that it hurts, and she stuffs it in her pocket right away, trying to warm her hands along with it.

This isn't good. She's very experienced with cars and has gotten her teammates out of hairy situations thanks to her knowledge, but she can't work on it in these conditions. Even pulling it into the factory somehow, out of the storm, would be too risky. It’s still cold to the bone inside of there.

And Zanka needs to get somewhere warm as soon as possible.

She clicks her Choker. She needs help.

“Semiu? We have a situation. Can you get anyone up here with a car?” she asks, realizing that her voice is starting to shake because her teeth are chattering. She can’t stay in the car for long, she needs to go back inside soon and make sure Zanka’s okay. Her hand nearly won’t cooperate as she places it on the door handle.

“Name?” Semiu asks.

“Tomme Mima. I’m with Zanka Nijiku,” she answers. She almost never answers without introducing herself first. Her stress is getting the best of her.

“Aren't you in the North Ward with Vehicle twenty-seven?” Semiu asks. She hears her shuffling around with papers. The connection is shoddy at best, but she can understand her well enough. “What happened to your jeep?”

“Stalled. The weather's too cold, and nothing around for me to jump it,” Tomme says as she opens the car door to head back inside. “And…Zanka's injured.”

“I can get someone from the North Branch to meet you at your location with a car and take you back there. Is Zanka injured badly?” she asks, her voice a little more stern.

Tomme doesn't know if she should detail his situation. “Borderline hypothermic.”

Borderline is probably not true anymore. She thinks she’s either trying to make herself feel better or make sure Semiu doesn’t think she’s a waste of a Supporter. There’s a pause.

“That cold up there? Are you okay?”

“I'm fine - he - well,” Tomme can feel her head spinning. Her eyes trail up to the sky, and she realizes it’s snowing harder than it was before. She mutters to herself. She can’t be standing out here, this stuff is toxic. “He fell into freezing water.”

“Okay, so you need emergency help,” Semiu says.

Tomme feels her stomach drop.

“Yes.”

This is definitely an emergency.

“Emergency transport to my current location is usually the fastest way to say that,” Semiu reminds her. Tomme bites her lip. “I'll let the North branch know. They have a good medical team and can keep him stable. I'll send someone from HQ right away to come get you two. Does he need immediate treatment?”

“I think…I think so,” she murmurs. She’s trying really hard to stay professional, stay positive, but the situation is looking more dire now that the weather is changing. She stands underneath the awning, watching the snow fall. “Thank you so much, Semiu,”

“Keep in touch. And you'd better tell Enjin before I do.”

Tomme would rather die, honestly.

Enjin's a nice guy. A massively respectable Giver. One of the best that she’s ever heard stories of, not someone she’s had a personal conversation with or even seen in action. He's a great leader for the kids on his team, from what she’s seen. He seems to know and understand them all really well, and the times he's been stern with them have all had an undertone of care and concern. She doesn't want to know what he would say if he found out she let this happen.

Now's not the time to worry, though. This is her job. She needs to focus. She's Support, and that's what she needs to do.

When she's back inside, Zanka's where she left him, but he's on his side, against the freezing floor. He’s too still.

“Zanka,” Tomme says sternly with a gasp of breath, dropping to her knees and making sure the coat is covering him as much as it can. Part of his arm was against the metal factory floor. He's so cold. He's so cold that her hands feel numb as she's touching his skin to pull his arms through the sleeves of his coat. “Keep your eyes open. They'll be here to get us soon.”

He's not shivering anymore, and Tomme is horrified with this information. She knows enough about hypothermia to know that this is a very bad sign that things are going in the wrong direction. He’s trying to listen to her, but his eyes are fighting back to close. He looks worse than she’s ever seen him.

“Zanka, you have to keep your eyes open,” she tells him again, cupping his cheek and squeezing his hand with her free hand, as cold as it is. He's trying so hard. He's fighting it, she sees it, but his body is betraying him nonetheless. He doesn’t seem to have the strength left in his hand to squeeze back.  “Stay with me, okay?”

Her choker rings. She answers after a few seconds, after lifting Zanka's upper body off of the freezing cold floor. She knows that won't do him any good. She keeps him leaned into her, against her chest, trying to share the limited body heat she has while also making sure she's not freezing either. She needs to stay in good shape for him too. She wraps her arms around him and tries to whisper encouragement under her breath, but she doesn’t think he can hear her at all. Zanka’s head is leaned against her shoulder.

“Tomme Mima? It's Enjin,” the voice says. “You have Zanka with you?”

She feels Zanka's body stiffen slightly at the sound of Enjin’s voice.

Tomme is terrified to be hearing from him already. “Yes, I-”

“Semiu gave me a quick run-down. I'm headed to the Garage. What's going on?” he asks, sounding like he’s walking down stairs. It sounds like Semiu ended up telling him anyway.

Tomme's chest feels right.

“Zanka's in bad shape,” she murmurs. There's tears in her eyes, but she tries really hard to not let it be heard. Maintain professionalism. What will he think if he can tell that she’s in tears? “He fell into freezing water, and it's below zero up here. The jeep is stalled, and -”

“Semiu sending someone out, though?” Enjin asks urgently.

“Yes, Semiu's contacting the North Branch,” Tomme says, trying very hard to keep her composure through the conversation. She’s so deeply concerned with the fact that Zanka isn’t shivering anymore that she could burst into tears, and she’s not like that at all.

“And you're okay?” he asks.

No. She’s terrified.

“Yes.”

She's better off than Zanka.

“I’m leaving as soon as I get down,” he says. “I’ll come get both of you.”

“Wait, Enjin, Semiu said she'll send -”

“I'll be there in twelve hours.”

Tomme's eyes are suddenly flooded with tears, and they burn, freezing against her eyelashes before they can get to her cheeks.

What if no one comes for him?

What if he dies?

She takes in a breath.

What on earth is wrong with her? Is it the cold making her like this? She’s not usually like this at all. They hired her because she’s level headed, and Tomme takes great pride in that, too.

“Enjin,” she manages through tears, “he's not shivering anymore, and I'm-”

“The North Branch will be there. He'll be okay. Don't lose hope,” Enjin says, “I know you'll make sure he'll be okay, Tomme Mima.”

He’s right. That’s the only option.

The two North Branch Cleaners don't waste any time. There's a silent acknowledgement between the three of them that they'll talk once they're back inside the vehicle and Zanka is safe.

The vehicle they have with them seems like it's part armored car, part ambulance. The vehicles they have at headquarters have the potential to become makeshift ambulances, at least in terms of creating a cot-like structure on the side with seating beside it, but nothing like this.

Tomme rushes back into the factory for a brief moment to collect a sample from the water Zanka fell into, dipping her water bottle into the weak spot where the cracks were almost frozen over again before screwing the lid shut tight. She knows that water will had the potential to become a problem. They don’t have any idea how long it’s been there. She’s had to do this before, and it’s proven useful, so she figures it’s not a bad idea. She runs back to the car.

The North Branch sent two women, one tall and one shorter than Tomme. There’s a driver in the front that doesn’t leave the car. The women work together well in terms of efficiency, getting Zanka inside the vehicle with a stretcher, and ushering Tomme inside before they close the doors. One of them mutters something about the car likely being a lost cause, and Tomme has to agree.

The taller woman sits beside Tomme on the left side of the car, taking a thick quilted blanket from the side storage to drape over her shoulders as the vehicle starts to drive off. A new person comes in from the passenger seat to assist the younger woman with first aid on Zanka - removing his wet clothing completely and replacing it with dry back-ups, covering him well with quilted blankets. They both move with purpose and practice, and it tells Tomme that this is likely an every-day situation for them, and something that scares the shit out of her.

She stays quiet, and watches carefully the whole time, her teeth no longer chattering but grit together from the stress before she realizes. She tries to relax her jaw. She’s going to give herself a headache at this rate.

“ETA?” The shorter woman asks, attaching Zanka to monitoring equipment and analyzing it carefully, making sure that what she’s seeing matches with pulses she can feel, and the shallow, painfully slow breaths that Zanka is taking. Tomme doesn’t know much about what the numbers mean, and she wishes he did. She has a lot to learn.m

“Forty-three,” the driver tells her as the man from the passenger seat climbs back up front.

Does that mean he’s okay, for now?

“Are you warm? You didn’t fall?” The taller woman, sitting beside her asks.

“I’m okay,” Tomme insists. She’s not sure how long they’ve been inside now, but she feels enough of a difference now that she’s here. Her eyes are still fixed on Zanka, whose eyes are shut, but his expression seems relaxed.

The shorter woman sitting across from her stretches out her hand over Zanka, in Tomme’s direction. Tomme’s eyes follow her hand up to her face. Her expression is stern.

“Aurelije. Good to meet you,” she says.

“Atius,” the taller woman introduces.

Aurelije and Atius. Both Givers, based on their uniforms. Tomme is guessing Aurelije's Vital Instrument is the pronged choker around her neck. Atius doesn't have a visible one. Tomme is curious why they sent two Givers and not Supporters, but it could be a precaution. Or maybe they were out on a job - they did arrive pretty quickly, considering they’re still about under an hour away.

“Tomme Mima,” Tomme says, briefly removing her arm from the warmth to shake Aurelije’s hand before tucking it back into herself, keeping the quilt tight around her.

“And what were you doing out here on a job that's in our jurisdiction?” Aurelije asks. She comes on a little strong, but she’s always known Givers to be defensive people. It’s not a bad trait to have, necessarily.

“It needed someone who spoke the language of Kamuatari. Our receptionist told me there's no one at the North Ward who speaks it fluently,” Tomme answers. Of course, it’s not ideal for them to drive this far for a job close to the North Ward for no reason.

“So that's…” Aurelije starts, her eyes trailing down to Zanka’s form.

Atius hums. “Nijiku.”

“He's younger than I thought,” Aurelije says. “And on Enjin’s team, isn’t he? What’s he doing out here by himself?”

The air is suddenly very tense.

Tomme has to admit it stings, being treated like baggage rather than another person, but it’s a fair question. Zanka is very young to be doing jobs as the only Giver, but he has the strength and knowledge to back it up. He’s incredibly impressive.

Her question dies in the air of the vehicle as soon as Zanka suddenly starts coughing, turning his head to the side in Tomme’s direction. She leans forward and abandons her own attempt at warmth completely, the blanket falling off her shoulders as she rushes to comfort Zanka, and make sure he doesn’t choke - because sure enough, he’s still managing to spit up water.

“It’s okay,” Tomme tells him gently as he gasps for air. He coughs several more times, a sound that gets harsh and more painful to listen to each time. He’s taking in breaths, but it sounds like none of them can get deep enough, and it’s causing him to panic. “It's good to cough right now, it's okay.”

His eyes are wild, and she doesn’t blame him for a second. He’s in a completely different place, surrounded by strangers, including Tomme. She hates that she can’t be more comforting to him, but she tries. It’s all she can do. She repeats it a few times. It’s okay. You’re doing great. And it’s not long before his body starts to relax. The two Givers with them seem to be discussing things related to Zanka’s condition. Atius drapes the blanket over Tomme’s shoulders once again.

“Stay strong, okay?” Tomme says gently, brushing his damp hair out of his face.

Tomme is standing in the doorway at the North Branch infirmary, as close as they’ll let her.

They’ve already done chest radiographs. She’s heard them discussing the possibility of pneumonia, but that the timing didn’t seem to match. That Zanka’s core temperature is much colder than it should be for someone who was supposedly only underwater for a few minutes. Secondary drowning seemed a more likely cause for the condition of his lungs, but Tomme doesn’t hear more details. It’s obvious enough, whatever the cause, that his lungs don’t seem to be looking good on the films.

Zanka’s cough doesn’t improve at all. He seems to be coughing any time he’s conscious, something he’s been coming in and out of over the last hour. The coughs turn into gags and retches when he doesn’t get any breaks to breathe. He’s thrown up twice since arriving back, and not just water, this time. She hears that his temperature was nearly eighty seven at its lowest, but that he’s come up to ninety two since arriving at the North Branch.

She wants to be with him. She doesn’t want him to be surrounded by complete strangers. She waits there the whole time, even after she’s been offered a bed in the neighboring room.

Honestly, the adrenaline from the whole experience is completely gone, and she’s exhausted. She’s leaning heavy against the doorway, but she stays there anyway.

Finally, they let it happen. She’s able to sit beside him.

He looks like he’s been through hell. Pale skin, sunken eyes, and dull. He’s not totally there yet. Tomme’s aware that they gave him some medication through his IV, but this is unusual regardless. He has warmed fluids coming through his IV, but she still sees shivers from him, here and there. The room is probably warmed to eighty, but Tomme hasn’t quite become bothered by it yet. She realizes she was awfully cold too. She hasn’t taken off the quilted blanket.

“Didn't know you guys had hell guard blood at HQ,” Aurelije says. “Thought he was at the East Branch or something.”

Tomme didn’t realize she was still there behind her.

“Well, he was - never a hell guard,” Tomme says quietly. She’s trying to brush through his disheveled hair with her fingers. They dried his hair.

She doesn’t know much about his history, but she’s noticed that this seems to be something that strangers focus on when they’re talking about him. Zanka always goes quiet in those instances.

“Close enough, if you ask me,” she retorts. “His family is pretty much in charge of everything that goes on there. You know that, don't you?”

Tomme has to hold her tongue. No, she hasn’t done much digging into his family. She doesn’t know much about Kamuatari or the Hell Guard at all, because she’s not a detective. Her job is to report on Trash Beasts. Her knowledge on his work with the Cleaners is far more important than what she knows about his childhood.

“Some Scribe you are,” Aurelije scoffs. There’s footsteps behind the two of them.

Tomme understands that not everyone sees their use, but she doesn't think Zanka deserves this. He has nothing to do with this.

“Zanka has earned his place there,” Tomme says. She's pretty good at keeping her composure, usually, but she feels her eye twitch. She keeps her focus on Zanka’s shivering frame, tucking his hair behind his ear. He seems to lean into her touch. She wonders if her hands feel warm to him. “He’s been with the Cleaners for longer than I have.”

She almost laughs. “No offense, Mima, but that doesn’t mean anything if you’re a Supporter.”

Tomme bites her lip.

Atius chimes in. “Miss Aurelije, that really isn’t…”

“What? It’s just a fact. You’re barely twenty one, right?” Aurelije says. “You guys can’t even join until you’re eighteen. Three years might be impressive for a Supporter, sure, but any Giver on the Ground has been with the Cleaners for longer than you have.”

Tomme's eyes trail down to the ground. She won’t take this.

“You can insult me all you want. It doesn't change the truth,” Tomme says sternly as she turns back to look at her. “You don't know him. And you don't know me either.”

“Aurelije, there’s no need to antagonize our guests. Especially when they come directly from headquarters,” another voice snaps. Tomme doesn’t turn around. They seem to start to whisk out of the infirmary, all three of them, but the quiet chattering doesn’t stop. Tomme decides it isn’t worth her energy to try and listen, even if she’s curious, but some things still slip out, louder than the rest.

“HQ is sending children out by themselves with a single piece of glorified dead weight. Can you believe that?” she hears someone sneer.

To simply refer to Zanka as a child and nothing more says everything Tomme needs to know about this person.

“That woman is lucky Nijiku survived.”

That stings much more, though.

No one but the medical staff comes in for a while after that. Tomme had brief exchanges with the nurse, who comes in to check Zanka’s vitals every half hour or so, and an extra time in between to administer more medication after Tomme had reported that Zanka had thrown up again, even while hardly conscious.

She hasn’t heard from Enjin. She’s wondering if she should call back.

She’s really starting to worry, because while she completely understands that recovery from hypothermia is supposed to be gradual, Zanka seems seriously unwell. He’s not been conscious, really at all. His breathing is still really strained, and it doesn’t improve. The cough isn’t nearly as bad, but it’s still present, and still gets bad enough to cause retching. She expresses her concerns to the nurse, and she hands him the water bottle that she collected the sample in. He’s surprised to see that she’s collected something like that but he quickly disappears, telling her he’ll take a look.

Atius returns. Tomme has started to recognize her footsteps.

“How is Nijiku doing?” she says from behind Tomme. She doesn’t approach much closer, but she hadn’t earlier, either.

“He’s…I’m not sure,” Tomme murmurs, “he doesn’t seem much better.”

“Hypothermia is vicious,” Atius tells her, “the polluted snow, the water…it makes everything much worse than it would be if it were just from the cold.”

Tomme hadn’t thought much about that since the initial incident. She was fairly familiar with hypothermia, but Atius makes a good point - part of this, or even a lot of it, could be due to pollution related illness.

“I'd like to apologize on Miss Aurelije's behalf,” Atius says suddenly. Tomme stiffens a little bit. She doesn’t want to get involved in any confrontation. “It's not appropriate behavior at all. It's no excuse, but maybe knowing she's sixteen will explain her behavior…”

Sixteen? Aurelije is sixteen?

Tomme knows children never join the Cleaners under happy circumstances. She can’t think of any Giver under eighteen she knows of that has, and while she doesn’t know the details of Zanka’s situation, she can’t imagine he’s much different. Even the Givers that she knows are her age have been with the Cleaners for a very long time, long before they were eighteen.

It explains everything, actually.

“I wasn't aware Zanka Nijiku was seventeen until today,” Atius says. “We’ve heard of him, but I assumed he was my age. It means he joined very young as well, yes?”

“From what I know,” Tomme nods. She wants to know more. But digging into the pasts of her colleagues isn’t her job. She’ll only accept that information if it’s given to her. She would never pry.

She sighs.

“Can I ask you something?” Tomme asks, turning her head to face Atius. Atius walks a bit closer so that Tomme doesn’t have to strain her neck. “Have you seen people die from this before?”

Atius shakes her head.

“Never, not when Supporters are involved,” she says, “of course, we have different protocols up here. It’s our daily life. Our Supporters are well trained on how to react in these situations…so honestly, I’m very impressed you handled it so well. Assuming you haven’t worked up here before.”

Tomme doesn’t feel that way at all, as her eyes drift back to Zanka. To her, handling it better means she should have avoided Zanka walking on that ice at all. She’s a Scribe, so it’s her job to write everything down, take notes and write up reports, but she’s a Supporter too.

She should have made sure this never happened to Zanka to begin with.

The nurse returns with more medications in vials. After checking Zanka’s vitals he draws a few up in syringes - two or three, most that Tomme doesn’t recognize the names of. She doesn’t have a lot of knowledge on medicine, but it’s something she’d like to learn more about from Eishia and Alice Stilza.

Zanka still isn’t very conscious, and he looks like he’s in worse shape than before. The sweat has wet his hairline quite a bit. Tomme’s making sure to keep his hair brushes back and out of his face. His breathing sounds a lot worse, too, a wheeze. The nurse apologizes a few times as he places the thermometer in his mouth because it makes him gag, but he’s able to get a reading after a few seconds. Zanka whimpers, sounding terribly frustrated with his situation despite how out of it he is.

The nurse places the thermometer on the nightstand, and draws up another medication from a vial to add to his IV line.

“His temperature is rising too quickly,” the nurse says as he injects the medication into the port. “I've given him anti-emetics and fever reducers.”

“A fever?” Tomme asks. That can’t be good, to go from such a low temperature to a high one, instead of stopping in the middle. It explains the sweat, though. The nurse shows Tomme the thermometer, and it’s reading ninety five. That’s not what she was expecting to see.

“Not quite. He’s still technically hypothermic, but it shouldn’t be rising this quickly, so I’m concerned he will develop a fever. The fever reducers should make sure it doesn’t climb faster than it should.”

Tomme blinks back at him. She’s never heard of this before.

“The water sample you gave me has a fast-acting bacteria from polluted still-water that thrives in the lungs. It causes symptoms similar to pneumonia, just with a much faster onset. It can be pretty dangerous to a hypothermic person, and it looks like his respiratory system was already weakened based on what I can tell. He had a cold?”

Tomme bites her lip. Atius had brought up scenarios of polluted water, and it makes perfect sense, especially because Zanka ingested quite a lot of it. She nods. “He seemed well, for the most part…just a cough.”

“Do you know if he was taking any medication?” the nurse asks.

“I…I don’t. I’m sorry,” Tomme says quietly. “I didn’t see him take anything on our way up here, but…that doesn’t mean he didn’t.”

“That’s okay. I’m waiting on an antibiotic to come in from a neighboring hospital. Just wanted to make sure he wasn’t already taking one, but it seems unlikely, if it was just a cough,” the nurse tells her. “He hasn’t been very verbal, I assume.”

Tomme shakes her head. She’s tried talking to him, but he doesn’t seem to be comprehending anything she’s saying. He’ll nod and shake his head to simple questions when he’s awake, but it’s difficult for Tomme to keep his attention with how exhausted he is.

“Really good call on getting a water sample,” he tells her. “Think we would've had a way harder time figuring out these symptoms if you didn't have that, and I’m concerned he would be in much worse shape…what made you think to do it?”

“Oh, it’s…” Tomme lowers her head. She’s done it before, is all. She’s interested in the various types of illness pollution can cause, and the way it affects recovery time for injuries, especially when Trash Beasts are involved. “Just something I’ve gotten used to doing.”

“Well, it’s a great idea,” he says, “most of us would have just assumed these symptoms were dry drowning or the late state hypothermia, but because of the sample, we can treat this much more effectively.”

Tomme straightens her shoulders a little. It’s not as good as avoiding all of it in the first place, but she’s really glad to know that something she did directly ended up helping him.

“You Supporters are super resourceful.”

Then, she finally smiles a little.

It’s completely dark out, now. Tomme doesn’t see any daylight from the window. She hasn’t been keeping track of time at all. The clock on the wall tells her it’s two in the morning, which means it’s been dark for way longer than she realized, she just hasn’t paid attention to it.

“You’re still shaking so much,” Tomme murmurs quietly, laying her hand against Zanka’s arm. The nurse was able to slow down his temperature climb, and they changed the temperature in the room, but he’s been shivering nearly the whole time. Tomme wants to check his temperature, but she’s been avoiding using the thermometer because of how nauseous he’s been. “Are you cold, still?”

Zanka manages a nod. That’s the first time in a while he’s responded to anything she’s said.

She peers around the room. He has two thick comforters over him, but the nurse had to take away any artificial heating because of his rising temperature. The nurse isn’t around right now for her to ask if it’s okay to add something back for him now, but she does remember that he specifically said artificial heating.

So, she supposes that doesn’t count human warmth.

She lays down on the cot beside him.

She thinks he'd probably hate this if he were conscious enough to comprehend it, but he needs the warmth of another human being. It's still a little warm in here, but warm air isn't enough.

He's really cautious, even while exhausted and half-conscious. He’s stiff, but after several minutes, he curls into her side, trying to be as close to her as possible. She’ll do whatever she can for him if this helps. He coughs a few times, but it doesn’t sound so painful like it was before. Tomme gently rubs his shoulder.

Her choker rings. Tomme didn’t realize she was falling asleep until it pulls her right out of it.

“Tomme,” Enjin’s voice speaks, “how’s Zanka?”

“He’s okay,” Tomme says quietly, trying to make sure she doesn’t stir Zanka, “doing what we can.”

She doesn't want to stress him with the details of what's going on. A twelve hour drive completely alone is stressful enough, especially through the night. Zanka’s showing signs of improvement. That’s what matters the most. And hopefully, by the time Enjin arrives, Zanka will have improved enough to be taken home right away.

“I have three…two hours left,” he says, “I’ll be there soon.”

Tomme is asleep when Enjin arrives.

He doesn’t blame her at all. It’s four in the morning last he checked, and he only managed the drive up here with his radio volume turned up to a hundred and back-to-back energy drinks, and he wasn’t stuck out in the cold.

Tomme is laying with Zanka in the same cot, still in her uniform, minus the covercoat, and Zanka is curled up beside her. Honestly, he’s just really impressed that Zanka is still asleep with someone next to him. Zanka won’t even fall asleep in the car after missions, regardless of how exhausting the mission was, how long the ride back to headquarters is. He’s sure it has something to do with Zanka’s fairly concerning condition right now, but he wonders what qualities Tomme has to make her so trusting to Zanka, despite not knowing her well.

“Tomme,” Enjin whispers, bending down and tapping her shoulders. He feels bad waking her, but he’s sure she’d like to know that he’s finally made it.

She almost jerks out of her sleep, eyes wide for a few seconds, staring back at Enjin. He sits down on the cot next to theirs, laying his umbrella beside him.

Tomme slowly sits up, staring back at Enjin for a few seconds before her eyes turn to Zanka. Zanka doesn’t seem to move at all, even when she moves. Tomme makes sure that the blankets are covering his shoulders, and she brushes his hair from his face. He thinks he should get Riyo to trim his bangs.

“They said he had signs of early pneumonia when I called them a few hours ago,” Enjin says quietly, “I shouldn't have sent him out here without his cold completely gone.”

“You couldn't have known this would happen,” Tomme says, turning her head back toward Enjin. 

“We should always assume the worst,” Enjin tells her. As painful as it is for her to hear that, it's true. It’s a lesson Enjin has had to learn the hard way before. Even so, everything he’s heard from the North Branch about what Tomme did is pretty incredible. He would’ve never thought to collect a water sample the way she did. “Still, though…despite all that, you got him here safe. And he’s alive.”

Tomme’s eyes light up a little. “Yeah…”

“Pretty badass if you ask me,” Enjin says with a smile, “no one can beat Gris in my book, but it’s good to know we have another badass Supporter I can count on to help my team.”

Tomme nearly laughs, rubbing at her eyes. “I’ll take any comparison to Gris.”

Enjin takes a quick, well-deserved thirty minute nap that turns into two hours right beside them, and once he’s awake and he gets a debriefing from the nurse, they decide that Zanka is stable enough to go home, as long as they can keep the car at a certain temperature and, of course, avoid any stalls. It’s a twelve hour drive back, so they should make it home before ten in the evening, leaving at eight, accounting for any stops.

Zanka’s temperature is finally above what’s considered hypothermic. The nurse stresses that regular temperature checks are important, especially to ensure that he doesn’t develop a fever from the bacteria. There’s some details in there about a short course of IV antibiotics he received and some oral ones they’re sending him home with, but most of it goes over his head. Luckily, Tomme’s really good at paying attention.

Zanka seems okay. He’s avoiding eye contact with both of them. He’s sure this hurt his pride a little bit, but he hopes later that he can get him to understand that this could have happened to anyone.

Tomme and Enjin wait for him in the hallway. The staff at the North Branch had washed and dried his uniform for him, and they’re waiting for him to finish changing.

“I can switch with you however often you want,” Tomme insists, referring to their drive back.

“Nah, I like driving. No problem,” Enjin says. That really is the case, but he’d prefer that Tomme rest if she can. The dark circles under her eyes are proof enough that she probably slept next to not at all during this whole ordeal, and while she hadn’t fallen in the water, she was out in the cold too. That takes a huge toll on anyone’s body.

Zanka opens the door, back in his uniform, leaning pretty heavy on his staff for support. Enjin almost walks to take his arm and help him walk, but he knows he’d take offense to that on behalf of his staff.. He looks worse for wear for sure, and seeing him next to Tomme makes him wonder for a moment if maybe they should take the day here, but he’s sure that they would both prefer to rest properly back at headquarters.

“Sorry t'put you in this situation,” Zanka murmurs as he turns to Tomme. He hadn’t really had a chance to say anything to her. Once he was up and okay enough to talk, the nurse had most of his attention.

“I'm so glad you’re okay,” she says with a relieved sigh, “you really scared me.”

Zanka opens his mouth to say something back, but one of the North Branch’s Givers has appeared in front of them.

“I’ll lead you back to the garage,” she says. A shorter girl. Enjin thinks for a moment that she’s Tomme’s age, but after staring for a few seconds, he realizes she might be younger than Zanka.

Tomme, for some reason, stares back at her with wide, nervous eyes.

“Tomme Mima,” she starts. “You’re a good Supporter.”

Enjin smiles. He thinks she’s pretty damn cool too.