Gives You Chills
Cho unlocked the door to his apartment, and stepped inside. After taking off his winter jacket, the chill of the air around made him shiver. It's cold in here, he thought. Cold as ice.
As soon as that phrase crossed his mind, he shivered again. Not because of the chill settling through his skin, but because of that word, ice, and the meaning it held for him. He picked up the mail, sorting through it to distract himself.
On the streets, it was always, "Hey man! Some 'puta' bothering you? Get the Iceman to help you, man." And help them he did. His early years were smeared with blood and hate. Needed a rival gang leader taken care of? The Iceman would whack him for a fee. Was there a rapist messing with your women? He'd be 'frozen' before he could even turn around.
Then, the final job. Breaking into an innocent family's home to murder them. The worst thing about the offer was that he had almost agreed. Who was this frigid monstrosity he had become? So the Iceman became Private Cho. Then Private Cho became Agent Cho. But there wasn't really any melting. Still, at least Agent Cho could look his reflection in the eyes every morning.
He tossed the envelopes back onto the side table, still in a jumbled mess. He'd deal with them later. Before he could turn around, he felt a blanket land around his shoulders along with a pair of slender hands. Out of the corner of his eye, Cho could see a tuft of blonde hair on his shoulder.
"What's this for?"
Jane didn't move. "You looked cold," he explained as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Cho didn't reply. He just let himself take in the warmth that was Patrick Jane.