It’s cold.
Ilya walked a few more steps before the thought hit him again. It was a mantra in his head, one of the only things he could bring himself to focus on. One step. Two steps. Three, four, five.
It’s cold.
One, two, three, four, five.
It’s cold.
He couldn’t feel his hands anymore, or his feet, or most of his mind, even. He didn’t know when it had started snowing but he continued to trudge through it, back towards his house. At some point in time he might have had the wits to stop and ask for help, but he was dazed and his first few attempts had just been wasted time and energy.
Now, he just wanted to be home.
His car was a distant memory, across town and parked in front of his work building. He’d left his phone charger in his car and stepped out to get it, only when he arrived it was gone. The car was still locked, it wasn’t like someone had broken in to take it, but it was gone.
And then, he’d been here.
Distantly, he remembered a man, too close to him. And then, he remembered the exhaustion, the overwhelming fatigue.
And then he remembered waking up across town, nearly forty minutes from home in temperatures that just kept dipping. It was dark and he was already cold when he pushed himself up; the falling snow and closeness to the Holiday meant that there were few people out. The storefronts he’d passed were shut down. He had tried to wave down two cars, but the effort had been painful and they’d just kept driving.
He could go home. He could make it there. It took twenty minutes of walking but he knew where he was.
It’s so cold.
A few more steps; they were slower, smaller steps than he’d been managing up until now, but he was still moving. He’d let his hair down, a small bit of warmth, but the wind tousled it in his face. The coat he’d had was drawn tightly around him and he kept his hands shoved under his arms, fingers curling and uncurling to make sure they didn’t freeze. He was numb up to his knees and both arms and his face felt like foreign entities--just dead weight on him.
His lungs were frosty; every breath hurt. He wanted to raise a hand to cover his mouth, to try and save whatever faint warmth he could expel with each breath, but he couldn’t find the strength to even move his hands up to try.
The snow was falling quicker now. Ilya almost forgot where he was going. The lights of the houses nearby weren’t even registering to him and he was so tired, so cold, that he wasn’t thinking about where he was going, he was just letting his feet go there.
Snow was starting to stick to the ground in layers and Ilya was having a difficult time raising his feet to walk; it wasn’t like it was more than an inch or two off the ground but the effort was so much that he just dragged himself forward.
Another turn. One street closer to home.
He was almost halfway down the street when he saw something; his mind didn’t register it, not really--a white cat, frantically pawing at the snow. Maybe it was trying to stay warm. Maybe it was trying to hunt down its dinner.
“Help him,” the cat demanded, with a loud, bold, desperate voice--so much so that Ilya forgot what step he was on and stopped.
He knew he was cold. He didn’t know he was so cold that he was starting to hallucinate. A wave of cold dread crashed down on him, and fear, but he was too cold to process it.
“You know him, I know you know him, you’re his neighbor. Help him,” the cat demanded again, and when Ilya didn’t move quickly enough, Soleiyu ran over and bit him, hard, in the leg.
It hurt. Ilya felt that. Enough to make him realize that he was not completely imagining this.
“Yes,” the large, white cat said. “I am a talking cat. You are not crazy. If you do not help him, he is going to die. So come here, and help me.”
Ilya did not move but his eyes did--and his heart stopped. In the snow, unconscious, he could see Sterling.
No, that was as illogical as a talking cat. What would Sterling be doing out here on his own, dressed like that, in the middle of the street? They weren’t close enough for home, they were--
The charred remains of a burned house stood in stark contrast to the whiteness of the falling snow.
Priam’s house.
There was no car in the driveway, no footsteps around him. Just Sterling, unconscious.
“What?” Ilya managed, but it felt like ice had melded his jaw shut.
Soleiyu was a charming cat. He was well spoken, he was intelligent, and he was polite. He was just also desperate and not thinking clearly. “<********>,” he said, and frantically ran back to Sterling, butting him with his forehead to try and wake him. When that didn’t work, he did the only other thing he could manage and laid on him, trying to give him any ounce of warmth. “I found him like this. Please. I know you’re his neighbor, I’ve seen you before. Ilya. He’s talked about you. We don’t have enough time for me to give you the run down. If you want Sterling to live, just--”
And then, he paused. There was no calm in it, no peace, just a sudden silence. Soleiyu turned to look at him, trying to process this strange feeling. “What are you?” he asked into the night. He didn’t ask Ilya, Ilya wouldn't have known.
The man in front of him was half frozen himself; it was like asking an ice cube to save an ice cube. Soleiyu wasn’t big enough to pick up Sterling on his own, but Ilya had wandered in from the darkness, and he could only assume the worst.
And yet, he felt the spark inside of Ilya, fighting to keep him alive. He felt the sting of power, raw and unawakened. His paws were too cold, he couldn’t get his phone to work. He wouldn’t have been able to find Sterling if he hadn’t had him and Priam carrying trackers.
Just in case something happened. Just in case something like this happened. It wouldn’t do them much good to have been so prepared if Sterling still froze to death, so Soleiyu hurled himself up to Ilya, who watched--probably, at least partially, actually frozen.
Soleiyu had awakened Senshi before. He knew what it felt like. His heart was pounding in his chest, desperate to save Sterling. He didn't care if something about this felt wrong--Ilya looked like he was in bad state, too.
But then, Soleiyu had a henshin pen. Soleiyu looked at him and heard a name. “Take this,” he had commanded, and when Ilya’s hands didn’t move fast enough, he held the pen in his mouth and leapt up onto him, shamelessly digging his claws in as he climbed his way up and shoved it into his hand.
It was hard for Ilya to resist, and the shock of Soleiyu’s weight colliding into his own was enough to break him out of his confused trance.
“Say ‘Beira Power Make Up’,” Soleiyu commanded, even as Ilya managed to wrap an awkward arm around the cat to make sure he didn’t fall--or tear his clothes to shreds. “Say it!” he said again, more desperately.
The phrase felt foreign on his numb lips, but--shocked and confused--Ilya had complied. He said the words without any understanding. His chest hurt; a foreign feeling, but it was accompanied by a sudden warmth, so shocking that it knocked Ilya to his feet. He was gasping for breath but he could breathe. It didn’t feel like trying to inhale icicles anymore, and he almost felt like he was starting to thaw.
The cold was gone, at least. A little bit.
On the ground, on his knees, in the middle of the road, he could see Sterling clearly.
The cat released him and ran over to Sterling, once more laying atop of him. “I know you have questions. I don’t have time to answer, he needs to go to a hospital, immediately. I don’t know how long he’s been out here. Please. I can’t contact anyone else. He will die if you don’t do this.”
Soleiyu was afraid. His voice trembled, and it hit Ilya in his heart that no matter what this was, Sterling was in danger. He pushed himself up on wobbly legs and was so lost to the cold that he didn’t realize his clothes had changed. He walked closer to Sterling and knelt, with more strength than he thought he had, and scooped him up. The cat didn’t move from atop of him but Ilya wasn’t complaining. He could feel its warmth pressed against his own chest, and if Sterling was as cold as he was…
He needed it.
Ilya drew them both closer and began to take stronger steps, faster steps.
Soleiyu’s desperation was contagious, and this wasn’t just about him.
Sterling was in trouble.
“What happened?” he managed, as he felt the adrenaline rush blossom inside of him.
“There’s no way you’re going to believe me and I need you to not go into shock right now. So just keep walking. Do you know how to get home?”
“I know this area.”
“Then just get there. When we get closer I’m going to run and get Priam. He can drive.”
“Is he healed enough?”
“Yes,” Soleiyu answered, bumping his head under Sterling’s chin, desperately trying to knock him awake.
“What was he doing out here?”
“Looking for Yu.”
“You can talk.”
“I’m not a cat. I’m a Mauvian. I awaken Senshi. Like you. You have no idea what that is. I’m sorry. I don’t have patience right now, Sterling is more important.” Soleiyu was quiet for a few seconds and then said, “I don’t mean that you’re not important. You are. But I can’t lose him. I’m sorry.”
Ilya didn’t reply, partially because he was too cold and partially because he didn’t know what to say.
Soleiyu held his tongue for a long moment, letting the awkward silence pass between the two of them. There was only the sound of the snow crunching beneath Ilya's feet and the wind in the air. The Mauvian shifted his body as much as possible to try and shield Sterling from it.
"I've known Sterling for a few months. He's a good person. And yes, he knows I talk, too. And when he wakes up, you two can commiserate about how strange it is that such a thing is even possible. But you live in Destiny City, I know you can't be oblivious to the weird things happening. This is just another one of them. And I'm sorry. I'm scared. I promised Sterling that I would protect him."
He had done his best. He hadn't protected Priam as well as he'd wanted, but he tried. Soleiyu hadn't awakened them--they were Knights. Not that Ilya needed to know. Ilya--or Beira, really, not that Ilya seemed to have any idea what the difference was, and Soleiyu really couldn't even manage to begin the long process of explaining things.
This was hard enough when the circumstances were normal--when someone's life wasn't on the line. And yet, he had a half frozen Senshi and Sterling to worry about.
He tried to force himself not to think about why Sterling was so unresponsive, why he was so cold. Why he felt like there was no life in him, even though his body was still trying to breathe, even though his heart was still struggling to beat.
Soleiyu looked up at Ilya again and blinked, trying to focus on him. “What were you doing out here?”
A moment of silence passed before Ilya could really even manage to get his mind functioning enough to answer the question, and even then it wasn't really a fulfilling response.
“...I don’t know,” he answered, slow and quiet. His answer wasn’t dismissive--he didn’t know. He had absolutely no understanding of how he could have gotten out here. He was at work, trying to get some last minute things done so he could clear off his schedule a little more before the start of the new year. He was going to stay at work for a few more hours to finish his paperwork, close some cases, file reports, send emails.
All standard things. All normal things.
He remembered unlocking his car. Remembered leaning in and looking for his charger to see if it had fallen on the ground. He remembered finding nothing and taking a step back to close the car door, bumping into someone. He had seen a reflection in the glass of his car but he couldn't remember a face. He remembered cold, and tired, and darkness--and then, waking up across town. He didn't know what time it was, didn't know how long he'd been asleep for. He didn't remember walking there, or being driven there.
He had just woken up there.
His mind was a haze, and even if there wasn't a talking cat addressing him, even if Sterling wasn't unconscious and in danger--he doubted he would have been able to really process this, anyway.
His teeth were chattering again; the doubt wasn't doing much to ease the discomfort he felt. The cold was sinking in again, even with the burst of adrenaline, with the warmer clothes, with the surge of power.
He could feel the tug of fatigue, begging him to just sit down, to close his eyes, to rest for a moment.
...But it was so cold.
Sterling was so cold.
Soleiyu watched him for a few seconds and just closed his eyes, pressing against Sterling as much as he could. “...You’re both freezing. Keep walking home. Go straight there. Take three lefts and a right. If I start running now, I can get to Priam. I can get him to bring the car over here, he can drive you both to the hospital, okay?”
None of this made sense, but Ilya managed a numb, “Okay,” anyway.
The Mauvian didn’t move for a long moment and then swallowed, carefully forcing himself up. “Don’t stop for anything. He has a tracker on him. If you get lost I’ll find you. Please don’t get lost.”
Ilya didn’t respond; he nodded, a gesture that took far too much energy.
By the time he blinked, Soleiyu was gone, lost in the flurry of white.
One, two, three, four, five.
It’s cold.
He drew Sterling closer. He didn’t care how this looked. Didn’t care if Yu suddenly popped out to accuse him of trying to steal him. Didn’t care about scraping Sterling up off the ground.
He cared about getting home. To warmth. To safety. He didn’t even care about understanding what was going on. If Sterling wasn’t in his arms, maybe he would have given up. He was so tired.
One, two, three, four, five.
His eyes closed. He kept walking.
One, two, three, four, five.
The sound of a car engine working too hard, headlights suddenly shining in his eyes.
The car came to a stop in front of them and Priam threw open the door.
Ilya couldn't remember what happened next. He felt himself led to the backseat of the car, felt Priam buckling him in. He heard him talking. Saw him checking Sterling’s pulse. Saw the blanket thrown over them, saw Soleiyu climb into Sterling’s lap. He couldn’t hear what they were saying.
He couldn’t keep his eyes open.
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