Fear staked Jack’s heart as cold as the snow clinging to his jacket, and while he shook that off with a couple quick pats nothing but seeing Rhys alive and well will quell the terror in his chest. So he stalked forward as carefully as he could, searching for packed and icy areas of the snow so he won’t fall through and doom the both of them. He cupped his hand around his mouth and called his PA’s name, voice echoing around the mountain. He wondered how long he’d been out—the sky did seem darker, though not yet dark enough that Jack had to worry about a serious fall in temperature, but time was a factor and if Rhys had been buried under the ice for a long while there was no telling what Jack would find.

If he ever found him.

I just really wanted to write a hurt/comfort fic where Rhys gets hypothermia. That’s all there is here. Set in mostly-canonverse.

Usually, Jack’s reckless abandon didn’t backfire this spectacularly.

Rhys would probably say different. His PA was privy to a lot more bullshit than the usual grunt, and more than once Jack had debated airlocking him after Rhys witnessed the CEO spill coffee down his chest or send a message without writing in the recipient. But try as he might Jack could never bring himself to jettison someone as useful, no matter what kind of embarrassing information he was privy to. Besides, the kid made for some nice eye candy whenever Jack was bored.

Damn it, he really wished he could see Rhys’ face right now.

But the mission had gone south. North. Whichever pole of Pandora they were on, Jack found it hard to recall when a chunk of tumbling rock had nearly taken out half his face and left him a bit stunned and trying to figure out the aftermath.

It should’ve just been a standard bandit ambush. Jack expected it, even this far out in the snowy, mountainous regions. He could hardly arrive on the planet in secret, and never traveled anywhere without at least a small entourage of armored guards or loaders accompanying him. And with Rhys trekking alongside him—eager to case rumors about a buried deposit of raw eridium—he didn’t skimp.

But all that protection amounted to nothing when Jack, in the rush of battle and pumped to wipe out bandit lives himself after such a long drought—fired a crackling shot into the pack of bandits trying to snipe them from atop the cliff, and missed.

Jack remembered the initial crack that jabbed into his heart moments before the rumble built to a crushing roar. He remembered tossing aside his gun as the cliff above them crumbled in a cascade of grey stone and fountaining white. He remembered throwing his hand out to Rhys when he turned and looked at Jack in panic, legs still and waist awkwardly twisted around. He doesn’t remember much from when the rock clocks him in the face, only coming back into consciousness who-knows-how much later with snow painted over his clothes and the terrain around him irrevocably changed.

Much of the cleared path they’d been hiking along had been swept away, steel steps and guide ropes completely gone. The cliff above looked like a huge chunk had been bitten out of it and spit out all over the ground below. Jack could see the harsh angles of a couple loaders poking out from beneath the snow, their exposed arms and legs fizzing and broken.

By some sheer miracle Jack hadn’t been buried, but as he staggered to his feet and blinked against the popping colors in his vision, he realized Rhys was nowhere to be found.

Fear staked his heart as cold as the snow clinging to his jacket, and while he shook that off with a couple quick pats nothing but seeing Rhys alive and well will quell the terror in his chest. So he stalked forward as carefully as he could, searching for packed and icy areas of the snow so he won’t fall through and doom the both of them. He cupped his hand around his mouth and called his PA’s name, voice echoing around the mountain. He wondered how long he’d been out—the sky did seem darker, though not yet dark enough that Jack had to worry about a serious fall in temperature, but time was a factor and if Rhys had been buried under the ice for a long while there was no telling what Jack would find.

If he ever found him.

---

After a couple of close falls thanks to crumbly rocks and hidden powdery pits, Jack was almost ready to give up hope.

He’d already pressed the emergency beacon in his pocket, but there’s little guarantee the rescue team would be ready—or willing—to search for Rhys once they had secured their top priority. In any case, Jack refused to sit on his ass and twiddle his thumbs while his PA could potentially be out here buried and freezing to death. It wouldn’t sit right with him if Rhys died and Jack hadn’t even bothered trying to save him.

Perhaps if he’d been in a sounder state of mind—AKA, not partially frozen with his temple smashed in—maybe he’d stop to think about why the hell he cared this much about Rhys. Skilled PA or not, he wasn’t exactly worth his weight in gold. Helios had no death of employees hopping at the chance to work directly under Handsome Jack himself, and he wouldn’t life a finger to save any of them even from something as piffling as a skag pup. And yet he was dragging himself through precarious avalanche territory in the off-chance that his PA had survived the ordeal.

Stupid, Jack might say to himself, if he had half the mind to focus on anything but Rhys’ safety and any sign of life that might lead Jack to him.

That first sign of life, unfortunately, ended up giving him a one-two punch to the gut. As Jack carefully descended a small, rocky slope, he spotted a bright patch of red staining the gritty snow. His stomach plummeted even as his heart raced, and he slid down towards the blood, rocks and hard clumps of ice skittering down besides him as he scraped his fingers against the ground to slow himself. Now on the level with the blood he found himself across from what looked like a small outcropping, topped with a heavy layer of snow and featuring one stylish-looking boot sticking out from beneath the shade.

The blood dripped a direct trail to it.

Jack scrambled forward, breathing tight in his chest from stress and the thin atmosphere. He fell to his knees in front of the little cave, crawling the rest of the way as he pulled himself up besides Rhys. His lungs squeezed in worry as his eyes roved over his PA’s form, taking in the death-pale skin and the blood crystalizing down one side of his face. He lied completely still even though all Jack wanted was for him to sit up and grab his hand and say something so Jack didn’t have to be the one to reach out and confirm the worst thoughts running through his mind. His stomach twisted and clenched, fear mounting until he finally pressed two fingers in the slim gap between Rhys’ jaw and neck.

His skin felt cold. So cold. Jack pressed harder, seeking, until just barely he could make out a pulse, and relief hit him so quickly he nearly felt warmth.

Rhys cracked a groan at the pressure, his eyelids fluttering into life. They barely opened a sliver, and all Jack saw when they did was glassy and dim, but it was something. He carefully crawled over Rhys and slipped his hands beneath the boy’s body, lifting him up as gingerly as he could manage.

“Easy…easy Rhysie, I’ve got you, I’ve got you…” Jack murmured as he propped Rhys up against his body, wrapping his arms tight around as he let Rhys lean into him. Another moan escaped Rhys’ lips, this one louder, laced with confusion. Jack hushed him, patting him softly on the back as he tried to sweep away excess snow from his body. Hyperion had made their winter wear about as warm and waterproof as possible, but it wouldn’t help if Rhys had been laying covered in snow for very long. Or if he had a concussion.

Though he felt chilly himself, Jack’s was considerably more warm and conscious than his PA, so he bit the bullet and started to shed his jacket, one arm at a time, shifting Rhys’ position until he managed to shrug it off his shoulders. With a grimace he stripped Rhys’ own stiff, chilled jacket from his body and tossed it aside before wrapping the younger man up in his own. He looked a bit ridiculous all wrapped up in the puffy yellow fabric, like some kind of nerdy marshmallow, and Jack might’ve found it funny if Rhys wasn’t still barely conscious and cold-beyond-shivering.

He held the PA close, sharing his body heat to the best of his ability. If his own fingers weren’t numb and he had a little more space in this cave maybe he could do a little more than wish the that the help on the way would move faster.

Still, twitches and little mumbles occasionally resonated throughout Rhys’ form, an encouraging sign even if the kid’s drooping eyelids were not.

“Hey.” Jack clicked his tongue, starting Rhys out of another fugue. “You fall asleep, pumpkin, and I’m tossing you off the mountain myself.”

“I…but…” Rhys hadn’t managed much more than disjointed words and indefinite sounds, but any talk was good talk. Meant he was still conscious.

“Seriously now. You’ve already had enough tinkering going on in that head of yours. The last thing you need is more brain damage.” Jack tilted his chin down, brushing his cheek against the top of Rhys’ snow-crusted hair.  

“Kinda…thought…t-total goner…” The PA stuttered after a long moment’s silence, his teeth clicking together.  

“What, you think I was gonna leave you behind?” Jack shifted Rhys in his arms, pulling the jacket tighter around him. The twitches in Rhys’ body were getting a little stronger and might break out into shivers soon Maybe even before the rescue team tracked them down. It wasn’t much but it would put Rhys on the road to recovery. “You know how many PA interviews I had to sit through before I got to you, sugar? Ugh. Never doing that again. You’re stuck with me, no matter how many times you get yourself buried in snow.”

Rhys laughed weakly, breathing fogging at Jack’s chest. The older man leaned back, resting his back against the wall of the little cave as his own strength waned, exhausted by the ordeal himself.

He managed to keep Rhys conscious until he started hearing other voices shouting from outside in the cold, though he had the energy to do little more than roar back and help the rescuers zero in on their location. Though he loathed to let Rhys go, especially as the PA had finally started to shiver properly, he relinquished him into the hands of the medics, who quickly wrapped Rhys in a crinkling, reflective sleeping bag and dragged him atop an emergency stretcher. Jack yearned to stay by his side but he was quickly flanked by medics and wrapped up in a similar blanket, artificial warm instantly kissing his frigid body. He grumbled as they checked his face wound, jostling the injured skin, but Jack was far too tired to think about anything other than Rhys’ wellbeing as his PA was carted off towards the emergency transport.

Once the medics finished checking his injury they carefully helped him to his feet and led him out of the small cave. The thrusters of the idling transport kicked up the powdery snow all around them, making it difficult to see much as they struggled towards it. Jack kept his eyes fixed on the bright yellow bag Rhys had been zipped up in as the medics wheeled him up the gangplank and into the transport’s belly. Jack nearly tripped as he tried to walk faster, eager to be inside and again watching over his PA.

Finally he hobbled his way inside, breaking away from the two medics supporting him as he clomped over to where Rhys’ gurney sat. An attendant had partially unzipped the bag, leaving Rhys’ upper body exposed. Jack watched the slight but steady rise and fall of his chest, and though his face remained cold and mostly unresponsive aside from his fluttering eyelids, Jack felt encouraged.

The transport soon kicked into life, hull around them humming with energy as the whole thing lifted off of the ground. Jack wobbled slightly on his feet, groping behind him for some purchase quickly provided as an attendant pushed a chair up behind him. Jack fell into the seat with a grunt, impact vibrating through his whole sore body, and given the ordeal no one would blame him if he decided to sleep.

And yet, it felt crappy to take a nap when Rhys still wasn’t fully out of the clear, so he pinched the cold skin on his wrist to keep himself awake before leaning forward to watch his PA.

Rhys finally moved when the attendant began to connect him to the surrounding machines, the touch of the little plastic sensors sticking against his chest and neck causing him to turn his head to the side. His eyelids still fluttered involuntarily but he managed to open them a little wider, fixing Jack with a stare that looked a little more lucid than the one he’d had on the mountain.

“…S’ warm…” Rhys managed, slurring through heavy lips. He spoke almost surprised, like he hadn’t expected to feel anything but cold again. Jack’s ribs hurt.

“Yeah, kiddo, it is. We’re gonna get you home, ‘kay? Nice and comfy in a real bed. Sounds good?” Rhys nodded weakly.

“Can sleep then, right…?” He mumbled, and huh when did Jack’s hand end up on his forehead? Rhys’ skin still felt chilly, but less so than it had when they’d both been half buried in snow.

“Sure, sure. And I’m gonna stay by you until then to make sure everything’s peachy, all right?”

Jack stroked limp strands of hair off of his PA’s face, combing them back into some semblance of Rhys’ usual style. He must appreciate the gesture on some level, because a little smile crossed his lips. They’re starting to go back to their usual pink hue, which was a good sign. Much better than white-going-on-blue.

Jack stayed true to his word, remaining at Rhys’ side and fighting off both his own exhaustion and the concerns of the medics until the transport reached Helios. Only when they got Rhys properly settled in the hospital did they manage to convince Jack to lie down, providing another bed in the same room when the fiery look in his sunken eyes told them he wasn’t leaving.

With the starchy sheets and thankfully soft pillow cushioning his body Jack finally let sleep grab at him, with a steady heart-rate monitor and Rhys’ peacefully sleeping face the last thing he saw before his heavy eyelids finally fell shut.