A/N: Thanks to my friend InkSiren for getting me into this game and for knowing exactly my type.
A human body among the oil-black of the water and the flurry-white of the snow may as well be a teardrop in the ocean. They don't stop looking nonetheless.
By some miracle, it's less than an hour since the first cry of "Man overboard!" when they find him, staying afloat only by gripping onto some hunk of ice that's sloughed off one of the larger bergs to bob along in the storm.
'Gripping' might not be the right word. The man they pull out of the water certainly isn't conscious. His arms have frozen to it.
There's a crackle of ice-crusted leather breaking when they finally haul the captain onto the search boat, itself straining at the tether that keeps the waves from pushing the rescue party far from the Morrigan. Hoisting the rowboat back onto the ship is its own battle and each of them prays it isn't all for naught.
"Is he breathing?"
"I can't tell."
"Get him below deck and those frozen clothes off of him."
Arctic-cold and corpse-cold aren't the same kind of chill, but with each of the men's own skin frozen into numbness, it's impossible to tell.
They carry Shay into the hold, light lanterns and fires and argue with the infuriating conundrum of belts and straps and buckles that is Shay's clothing, and then finally, with an ear bent close to blue lips and bared skin, comes the rattle of a defiant breath.
It's enough to provoke a desperate cheer.
"He's alive. There's a heartbeat."
"Won't stay that way for long if we don't warm him up. Get him near the fire."
"No, fire will hurt him if it goes too fast. It has to be gentle warming."
"Well, what do you propose?"
"Body heat. One of us stays with him. We take it in turns."
So they do, in a cot wrapped in wolf furs, with a stove at safe distance for comfort as the hours pass and Shay's breathing settles from a gasping shudder into an even rise and fall.
At one point, Shay cracks an eye open and casts a disoriented glance at his surroundings. His companion notices.
"See, captain? We'd never leave you for dead."
"Nnngh yyynnn."
Later, Shay won't even remember waking, let alone what he tried to say. The crewman decides it means, "knew you wouldn't" and "good work" and contents himself with a smile.
Shay shuts his eyes again and falls into an easy sleep.