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Zayne’s heart is full of ice. It settles at the core of him, cold to the point of burning, but ultimately safe. An old sort of pain, aching and familiar. As long as he’s careful, busy, calm , it mostly fades into the background. Numb. Just another fact of life: carrots are disgusting, jasmines are beautiful, and there’s no space in Zayne’s heart for passion.
He learns it the warm summer afternoon he makes it snow by accident, pins and needles prickling along his arms and hands. Carries it with him when his parents move them away, car frosted over so thoroughly as he cries they can’t leave until he settles his stuttering breaths. Remembers, always, when he gets a new number and doesn’t transfer his contacts, sees Caleb’s name on the list of new Aerospace Academy graduates and never reaches out, processes her file for one of Dr. Noah’s case discussions and acts as though it’s the first time he’s heard her name.
Zayne makes it more than a decade like that. The meticulous rules and never ending days and exacting standards provide a scaffold upon which he builds his self control, through which he teaches himself the fine differences between care and involvement. He makes mistakes sometimes: washes his own frozen blood off his hands the first time he loses a patient, returns from Mt. Eternal hypothermic despite the well insulated equipment. But overall he does well.
Then Dr. Noah retires and suddenly all his patients are in dire need of a new cardiologist. The team at Akso is far from lacking and most of them transfer efficiently and without issue. Except one. Her case is unique, of course. It would have been remiss of Zayne, as a doctor and a mentee, not to familiarize himself with it, and he recognizes immediately that he’s the only one qualified to take her. He signs what he needs to on autopilot, lets the front desk handle the schedule and doesn’t let himself think about it. And then the day of her first appointment with him arrives.
“Zayne?” her voice is surprised but bright as he enters the exam room. “It really is you! Isn’t it?”
“It is.”
A brilliant smile blooms on her face and something twists painfully in his chest. “Wow it’s been so long.”
He doesn’t respond, busies himself with setting out her file and a pen, checking through his equipment more thoroughly than needed. In the corner of his vision she hesitates, hunches in.
“Congratulations!” still cheerful, but strained. “You’re a doctor now, that’s really impressive. My doctor too. Small world, huh?”
“Small world,” he repeats, in lieu of an answer. “I’ll be listening to your heart now, if that’s alright.”
“Oh. Um, yeah. Of course.”
The exam passes in silence, only interrupted by short, routine questions and the scratch of his pen as he records his findings. Throughout it, he keeps his breathing even, ignores the pounding of his own heart at the sight of her, the first he’s allowed himself in all the years since he initially cut contact.
She’s radiant, more than he remembers, sunlight scattered across clear ice, jasmine in a snowfield. Gone are the nervous, fearful habits of childhood, replaced by a self possessed confidence befitting a future Hunter. Zayne can’t imagine the woman sitting before him clinging to his hand as they cross the street or hiding behind Caleb in the presence of strangers. She’s grown now, her own person, and yet still he catches glimpses of familiar habits.
At the chill touch of the bell through her hospital gown she shudders and pouts, cheeks puffing out. As the exam progresses and he refuses to engage she wrings her hands more and more, chews lightly on her bottom lip, flicks her eyes between him and the wall behind him in a way she still seems to think is subtle.
Zayne should let her stew on her own, maintain a cold, professional distance for both their sakes. They don’t know each other anymore; it’s been over ten years. He’s her doctor.
Her gaze settles on him and Zayne freezes, snaps back into the moment. She looks so uncertain, pleading with him for the one thing he can’t afford to give her. The past is the past and some things are better left there, no matter how sweet the memory.
But,
but,
“How are preparations for the Hunter’s Qualification Exam coming?”
Zayne is weak.
She smiles again, finally, like the sun appearing from behind cloud cover.
“Good!” She clears her throat, shifts on the exam bed. “They’ve been good. I think I actually have a shot of passing on my first try.” And then her smile gains a sly edge, eyes crinkling at the corners as they narrow. “How’d you know I was planning to take it?”
Zayne turns to his notes, shoots her a wry glance. “It’s in your file.”
She blushes. “Oh yeah. I had to get Dr. Noah’s approval to apply.”
He hums, falls without meaning into the warm, comfortable silence that replaces the awkward sterility he’d tried to establish. “It’s also the only thing you ever talked about as a kid.”
“Hey!” She glares playfully and sticks her tongue out. “It wasn’t the only thing. Besides, that was ages ago. I could’ve changed my mind.”
“You? Unlikely.”
He expects her to retort, the way she always did when they’d get into these silly arguments, but instead she giggles, happy and beautiful and-
“You appear to be in stable condition.” He backs up, clutches his clipboard in front of him like a shield. “Is there anything else you’d like to discuss?”
She startles at the sudden change in subject, looks vaguely hurt, just for an instant, before recovering. She squares her shoulders, steely determination mixing with hope across her face. “Actually yes.”
Clearly she doesn’t mean to ask about her health and Zayne braces himself. His fault really, for not specifying.
“When’s your break?” but she must see the way he tenses because she quickly adds, “Or when does your shift end? I know you must be busy but I’d… I’d like it if we could catch up.” Her voice drops into a shy whisper, confidence faltering, “I really missed you, Zayne.”
“I-“ he swallows, “I don’t-“
Her expression crumples and Zayne shuts his mouth, doesn’t trust himself not to agree outright.
“Do you really not want to?”
“That’s not it,” he concedes, against his better judgment. But it’s true. Of course he wants to.
“Then why-“ She reaches for his free hand, clasps it in both of hers and hisses but doesn’t let go.
Her skin is hot. No, it’s- it’s him that’s cold, breath misting in the air, body stiff with the sharp needling pain of both frost under skin and frozen nerve endings returning to life over the blistering heat of a fire.
He yanks his hand back, puts distance between them. It’s- he’s a kid again, on that warm summer afternoon he’d made it snow. Her hands had been in his that day too, warm. So warm. Scorching. And then cold.
“As you said, I’m very busy,” he says at length. “I often work through breaks and my hours are unpredictable. It wouldn’t be fair of me to make plans with you only to cancel at the last minute.” He takes a moment to compose himself, breathes deep and slow. When he focuses on her again, she has her hands fisted tight in her hospital gown. On instinct, he makes to check them, stops himself, outstretched hand lingering suspended before he lets it fall back at his side. If she’s frostbitten, touching her again, as he is now, will only make it worse.
She seems to realize, though, what he’s after, uncurls her hands and holds them palm up for inspection. They’re fine, if a bit red, and Zayne sighs, relieved.
“I’m truly sorry,” he apologizes, woefully insufficient.
Then he flees.
He should have known. He did know. Even after all these years, just half an hour and a conversation are enough to get his heart racing, to pull his temperature below human standard, to have her flinching back, his skin so cold it burns. Even after all these years, Zayne is still too involved.
Over the next few days, Zayne doesn’t put that disaster reunion out of mind, exactly, but he does take some time to cool off. As it were. Added to the demands of his usual routine are breaks just long enough to bounce from OR to OR, exam to exam, hours so late the night shift has to evict him when they clock in.
Her next appointment is in a month and Zayne- Zayne may be foolish but he refuses to be irresponsible. There is no doctor more suited to treat her than him, and no matter what excuses he’s told himself, how true they may be, he acknowledges that’s partially by design. She deserves the highest level of care she can get. Zayne will not be the reason she has to settle for less.
So he calms down, he reestablishes baseline, and when he can think of her, of seeing her again, without spiking the energy bill, he works on solutions.
True detachment is a pipe dream unfortunately, made clear by all the effort he’s put in to playing at it only to have those delusions shattered at the first hint of his past. He’d known that from the beginning though. If he’d believed at any point it were possible he would have called, would have attended Caleb’s graduation, would have focused his research on something other than protocore syndrome. He would have still been part of their lives, instead of a ghost of childhood. Has his proof right there that moving on was never an option.
Instead, he does the opposite. Settles at his desk with paperwork, where the worst failure will get him is a few extra hours in his office. Starts with her smile and her laugh, with snow seals that never melt and silly patterns in frost across Caleb’s window, the three of them huddled under his blankets. Lets old fondness well in his heart and threaten to push the ice into his aorta, his pulmonary trunk, into his arteries and veins until it burns just below his skin.
Starts with Caleb learning to cook, Caleb making separate meals without carrots only to sprinkle them on the side after, Caleb stealing them back off his plate and whining when Zayne lets him. Takes a deep breath and squeezes his eyes shut tight against the pain, the emotion. Tries to feel without feeling. Searches for a kind of self control he’s not sure it’s possible for him to have.
Eventually, his hands stop hurting and just go numb. Somewhere in front of him, paper crinkles. Or maybe it’s ice cracking. The warmth fades. His heart slows. He can have this. He can have them . If only he doesn’t show it.
When finally he dares to look, both his hands are frosted over, fingers stiff and frozen. The report he’d been writing lays crushed between them, so much powdered snow. Zayne sighs. He’s going to be here a while.
Steady knocking splits his attention some indeterminate time later. Absently, without looking up from his paperwork, he calls, “It’s open.”
The door cracks and a nurse peeks his head in. “Figured,” he says, dry. “C’mon Doc, don’t you know what time it is? Go home already.”
“Ah,” Zayne blinks, pen pausing mid stroke. Is it that late? “Just a moment,” goes back to writing, “I’d like to finish updating today’s records.”
A long suffering sigh. “Doc, don’t make me call for backup. Have you even eaten?”
On instinct, he almost says yes, mind flashing to the waste bin full of chocolate wrappers tucked under his desk, thinks better of it. “I suppose not.”
“Right. So, you clocking out the easy way or the hard way?”
Zayne sets his pen down, takes his glasses off to massage the bridge of his nose, only now that he’s stopped feeling the late hour creep over him. “You’ve made your point. Have a good night.”
The nurse eyes him suspiciously for a moment, but ultimately relents, lets Zayne’s door click shut with only a huff and reluctant “Night, Doc.”
Zayne packs efficiently. He hasn’t made as much progress as he wanted, with his reports or his Evol, but there’s still time. Another day. Some things require patience, he’s well aware, no matter how much he’d like results immediately.
He navigates the hospital on autopilot, spends the elevator ride to the lobby with half a mind still on work, the other half debating between a stop at the cafeteria and poking around his fridge at home. The cabin slows to a smooth halt, gravity bearing down for a moment. There’s more variety in the cafeteria, but if he stays much longer chances are he’ll be sleeping in his office. The door slides open and Zayne looks up-
“Well, well.” Caleb’s grin, smug and playful, is exactly as Zayne remembers it. “Guess you weren’t locked in the dungeon, after all.” He shifts his weight onto one leg, angles his body toward the other familiar face standing next to him, “Seems we came up with those rescue plans for nothin’, Pip,” never takes his eyes off Zayne.
“I don’t know, Caleb,” she takes an exaggerated look around, pretending to scout the area, “I don’t think we’re in the clear just yet.”
Zayne should- he should say something, do something, but- “Why are you here?” winces at how harsh he sounds even to himself.
She sobers, searches his face, contemplative. Caleb’s smirk drops in turn, and when she takes a step toward Zayne, Caleb blocks her path, protective. She scowls at him, lips pursing, annoyed, but he doesn’t notice. Instead he’s solely focused on Zayne, eyes dark, gaze heavy.
Zayne resists the urge to squirm.
“I’m so-“ his body jerks suddenly, beyond his control as gravity shifts from down to forward. The elevator door bounces back open as he passes through.
“Sorry, Zayne.” Caleb smiles sheepishly, ruffles the short hair at the back of his head, puts Zayne down. “Would hate to see you get recaptured, since you went through all the trouble of stagin’ your own escape.” His eyes don’t change.
“It-“ he clears his throat, “It’s fine.” The way Caleb stares at him, doesn’t even seem to blink, grates on Zayne’s nerves, though it shouldn’t. It’s only Caleb. It has been a while, but surely this level of discomfort is uncalled for.
He’s tired. It’s just because he’s tired.
Still, he averts his gaze, looks past Caleb to her. “I’m sorry,” he tries again, means it for both of them. “It’s been a long day and I wasn’t expecting you, either of you. I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”
She shoves around Caleb, still searching, still concerned. “If now’s really not a good time…”
For the first time, Caleb turns the oppressive weight of his attention away from Zayne, gains an air of distinct disapproval but maintains his silence.
“No,” Zayne says, and he really must be tired, not to take the easy out she’s so graciously offering. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m- It’s good to see you.” And he means that, lets slip the reassurance though the last thing he needs is to encourage her.
She smiles. “We’re pretty happy to see you too.” Her eyes flick over to Caleb, mischief lending her a dangerous edge. “In fact, Caleb was on the first flight out of Skyhaven as soon as I told him about my amazing new doctor.”
“Telling fibs, Pip?” his voice is light, if a bit high, teasing right back. “Don’t worry, I’ll still love you even if your nose is a mile long.” But then he turns back to Zayne and he watches, fascinated, at the bright blush spreading across Caleb’s cheeks and the bridge of his nose, the tips of his ears. “It wasn’t the first flight.”
“Of course not,” Zayne says, soft and indulgent, because whatever else Caleb has become in the years they’ve been apart, this he recognizes: Caleb: excitable, if overeager; shamelessly attention seeking but only if no one calls him on it.
Caleb, like her, is different than he used to be, but beneath the admittedly disconcerting changes still lie pieces of the boy Zayne used to know. It’s comforting. Now that they’re standing here in front of him, a decade of buried heartache rises to the surface, any energy he’d normally have to combat it long since spent. He’s missed them. Finds himself quite pleased, selfishly, that they seem to have missed him too.
“Zayne,” she cuts back in. “I know it’s late, but you are free now, aren’t you?” She glances briefly at the receptionist politely ignoring their conversation. “And tomorrow you’re off.” Not a question.
Zayne sighs, breath misting in the air. “Yes, I’m free.” He looks at Caleb. “As it happens, dungeons are not a standard installation at most hospitals.”
Caleb grins, cheeks still tinged pink. “Most?”
“Well,” her voice wavers slightly but she doesn’t look away, grabs Caleb’s hand and squeezes. Manages, with conviction, “We can catch up now, then,” before she trails off on, “Maybe- um…”
“Maybe we can grab a midnight snack or somethin’ while we’re at it,” Caleb finishes for her.
The intensity from before has returned to him, shoulders square and tense, like he’s telling Zayne and not making a suggestion. Maybe he’s not. Maybe neither of them are, afraid he’ll say no if they let him. He should.
“I doubt anything is open this time of night.” No, just say no. There’s no need for excuses. Sparing her feelings is why they’re trying again now.
“That’s fine,” Caleb says. He crowds into Zayne’s space, doesn’t let go of her hand and she yelps as she’s dragged along with him. Zayne tries to retreat a step on instinct, startled by the sudden proximity, but Caleb doesn’t let him, slings his free arm across Zayne’s shoulders, effectively trapping him. “Just come over. I can make something.”
The places Caleb’s body comes in contact with his burn even through their clothes. This close, Zayne finally notices how big Caleb has gotten, taller than even him, though not by much, solid with thick muscle from years in the military. Zayne’s heart beats hard and sluggish in his chest, fighting between the shock of the moment and the pervasive exhaustion of the day. It’s not uncomfortable though, being pinned to Caleb’s side like this, warm and restrictive in a way that’s difficult to reject.
She recovers quickly, shoots Caleb a glare but doesn’t linger on it. Instead, her eyes settle on him, wide and expectant, begging him to agree.
He should say no.
Zayne’s hands needle with frost, the frigid air in his lungs burns his throat on every exhale. Caleb must feel that, the thin fabric of Zayne’s button down hardly a barrier against the glacial chill of his skin.
He needs to say no.
Unconsciously, he relaxes into Caleb, chasing heat he can’t generate for himself. And Caleb pulls him closer, holds him tighter. Doesn’t react at all to the way Zayne knows he burns to touch and-
And maybe Zayne just isn’t as cold as he thinks he is, as cold as he knows he can be. Maybe he’s simply worn himself out, over used his Evol to the point there isn’t enough left to hurt anyone with, for now. Maybe he can have this. Maybe, if he’s careful, he can have this.
His body is cold, but in exchange, his heart, for once, is warm.
“Okay.”