Hypothermia of the Soul
Also on AO3 [210w] @corrieweek - day 6: Force-sensitive clones @ailesswhumptober - day 9: hypothermia
It takes a few weeks for Fox to truly notice, but Coruscant is cold.
It shouldn’t be. Between the climate-controlled atmosphere and his temperature regulating armour he should spend his whole deployment in a comfortably human-standard environment. Yet somehow, a chill has crept its way in to settle against his bones.
Nothing seems to touch it.
Exertion or external heat sources leave him flushed and sweating without doing anything to thaw the icy numbness inside.
Blankets are more variable. The thin mass-produced ones of the medbay and barracks offer bare protection even against more physical drafts. Wrapping himself in the bright patchwork quilts made from scavenged cloth and thread, however, is enough to offer at least the illusion of warmth.
Body heat seems to be the only effective cure. A warm line pressed against his side, even through armour, and he is sagging against the vod beside him. An arm around his shoulders and a face buried in a neck – theirs or his own – and everything else fades away.
The cold is only truly banished when Fox finds himself buried in the middle of a vod-pile, limbs tangled together, the whole mass shifting to the rhythm of calm breaths. He sinks into the sensation like a warm bath.