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Cryo exhaled an icy breath, their scarf pulled just below their chin, the crystallized puff of ephemeral mist dissipating into the warm air. No matter the season or however many layers of cloth, the cold never left them. Even bundled in their heavy winter coat, that was just a shade darker than a cloudless summer sky, they felt the same: eternally freezing.
They sat hunched with their back pressed against a jagged stone pillar that jutted unnaturally from the earth, ears still ringing from the echoes of battle. The ice that had formed at their temple was now beginning to melt under the warmth of an early autumn sun, the droplets gathering at the seams of their goggles before falling to the grass like tears.
A peaceful respite, the otherwise beautiful scenery was marred by more than a dozen or so half-frozen corpses—a pity.
A looming shadow crept across them, accompanied by the dull thud of boots weighed down by more than just the armor of the wearer. Cryo did not lift their head; they didn’t need to, as the other Visionite sat down beside them. There was a sigh, made muffled and breathy through the rasp of respirators, followed by the rustling of armor as he relaxed against the stone.
From beneath the frosted lenses of their goggles, Cryo turned their gaze towards their unwanted company. His helm’s visor, dark and opaque, revealed nothing, but his posture told enough. His attention was fixed upon the sky, where vultures were already circling above. The birds were all but dark silhouettes that danced like blackened tatters across the horizon, waiting for the moment that all who lay discarded upon the rolling hills drew their last breath.
Cryo’s eyes lingered briefly on a dent in his pauldron, deep and jagged, the kind only brute force could cause. Their jaw clenched, but they said nothing. They welcomed the silence, letting the venom that pooled at the back of their throat dissolve, thinking, for once, Juggernaut would leave them be, but peace was just a fragile illusion.
“Cryo? I—”
The rumble of his voice scraped the air raw, and Cryo’s body reacted before thought could catch up. They pushed against the rock, their hand grinding into its uneven edges, forcing themselves upright. Hackles raised, lips curled, a retort already searing the back of their tongue, but the chance never came.
The radio at their side crackled violently to life, the General’s voice thundering over the channel with urgency. Juggernaut was already sprinting towards the frontline, heavy strides leaving deep impressions in the churned soil. He spared Cryo one last glance before disappearing beyond the crest of the hill.
As soon as the helicopter landed, Cryo wasted no time shouldering past the few Visionites waiting on the landing field for their arrival. They could faintly hear Medic’s trailing voice calling out from behind them, but Cryo didn’t pause. The dormitory door slammed shut at their back, and in the silence that followed, the ice crusting their coat sloughed away, shattering against the tile in a cascade of crystalline shards.
They pressed forward, numb fingers fumbling with the key. The small snowman charm attached to it was swinging wildly as they struggled, but at last, the lock yielded, and they slipped inside.
The room was dark, with curtains permanently drawn. They didn’t bother with the lights as they stumbled into the bathroom, pulling the drain stopper and twisting the faucet open until warm water poured into the porcelain basin. Their gloves came off in slow, deliberate motions, discarded on the edge of the toilet seat.
When the basin had filled, they plunged their hands into the water, the warmth painfully coaxing life back into their frostbitten skin. The numbness receded into pins-and-needles as they started to regain the feeling in their hands. Cryo bowed their head over the sink, water dripping from their sleeves, listening to the sound of their own uneven breaths and the gurgle of water spilling too high.
The mirror above caught the shadow of their reflection, still in all of their gear, coat heavy with blood, oil, and Visionary knows what else was thrown at them that day.
Cryo had forgotten the door, left ajar in their haste.
It creaked as it was opened, the ray of light that spilled in from the hallway cutting through the darkness. Juggernaut stood tentatively in the doorway, stripped of most of his plating, leaving only the underlayers of his armor. His fingers curled tight around the doorframe as he leaned over the threshold, cautiously peering into the abyss.
“Cryo?” He called out, worry bleeding through his tone.
As the door opened wider with a low groan, the hallway’s sterile glow spread across the floor, catching on a puddle seeping from beneath the bathroom door. Juggernaut’s steps were slow, water splashing faintly beneath his boots as he approached.
He pressed a gloved hand against the door, the sound of rushing water spilling into his ears, muffled at first, then clearer as he edged it open. His breath stilled when he saw them. Cryo slouched over the sink, the faucet running unchecked, water overflowing onto the floor.
For a moment, Juggernaut’s chest constricted, the weight of his armor nothing compared to the sight before him.
He flicked on the lights, the fluorescent glow catching the gloss of the water as it ran down Cryo’s sleeves, dripping from the edges of their coat into the growing puddle below. Their hands, submerged to the wrists, were a mottled palette of pale white, raw crimson, and a deep, sickly violet that spidered across their skin in jagged patterns. The tips of several fingers were cracked open, faint traces of blood blooming in the water like ink.
Juggernaut froze in the doorway. “Cryo…” His voice wavered.
Slowly, Cryo lifted their head. The goggles hid their eyes, but Juggernaut could still feel the weight of their glare behind them, sharpened by exhaustion rather than fury.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Cryo rasped, their voice brittle and thin.
Juggernaut hesitated. His instinct told him to retreat, to spare them the indignity of being seen like this, yet his boots carried him forward despite himself. He reached past them, turning off the faucet with a metallic click that seemed deafening in the silence. The overflowing water stilled, save for the last rivulets that cascaded into the basin.
“You’ll lose your hands if you keep this up,” he said softly.
Cryo gave no reply, only flexed their fingers slowly in the water, watching the distorted reflection ripple and blur. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, until they finally murmured, “…you should leave.”
Juggernaut did not move.