Hakkai knew what he had to do, but it wasn't easy to find his center, not with the scream of the wind, the snow whipping his face. Not with Goku unconscious in his lap, and his forehead was still bleeding, though sluggishly, the blood freezing. The indent they had made in the snowbank provided some scant shelter from the gale, but not nearly enough.

Concentrate. Hakkai closed his eyes, focused himself. The cold was external; inside his chest his heart pumped warm blood, his nose and throat warmed the air for his lungs, brought in the oxygen and expelled the poisons. He was a being of energies, of illumination, of spirit, and he could use that spirit as his will decided. All one need do is think, and by the thought, it is so.

Green light blossomed between his fingers, melting the snowflakes into tiny drops which fell to Goku's brow, mixed with the blood and streaked down his cheeks like tears. He shuddered, and Hakkai felt his life force, pulsing strong as ever--a surface cut, only a light concussion, easily healed. Head wounds always looked worse than they were. Goku's eyes opened, their clear gold bright, not clouded, as they met Hakkai's. "What happened?"

Hakkai leaned back, a little dizzy with relief and the effort of the healing. "Thank goodness."

"Ne, Hakkai, what..." Goku realized he was lying on top of his friend, hastily scrambled up and offered a hand to Hakkai, who gratefully accepted. "How'd we get here?" He frowned. "Ah, damn...I fell, didn't I."

"It wasn't your fault, Goku. The wind--"

"Attacked. Like a tiger or something." Goku rubbed his head. "But you fixed me. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now--"

"Sanzo and Gojyo." Undeterred by the blood in his eyes or snow drifts higher than his waist, he set off up the mountain. "C'mon, Hakkai! We gotta find 'em!"

Even in the middle of a blizzard, even so lost they could hardly distinguish sky from ground. This was Goku. Hakkai smiled, and followed his comrade.

* * *

It happened so fast Sanzo didn't have time to react. One instant Gojyo was standing there, and the next he had dropped into gray water without so much as a yell. Sanzo charged forward, too slow, clutching empty space. The ripples smoothed out, damning his helplessness, and then Gojyo's vivid scarlet head broke the surface in an explosion of waves. Ice went flying as he scrabbled desperately for purchase, the rim crumbling into the water as he clawed at it.

Sanzo felt the ice under his own feet rock and crackle alarmingly. No time. He dropped to his knees, stretched out over the ice to distribute his weight and extended his hands, but Gojyo didn't notice, even when Sanzo shouted his name. The damn kappa was thrashing frantically, too terrified of the icy water to think. He opened his mouth to cry out, and the water rushed in, and there was no way in heaven or hell that Sanzo was going to watch this idiot drown right before his eyes.

Ignoring the creaking of the ice, he scooted forward, grabbed for Gojyo. One flailing arm caught him across the jaw, knocked his head back with a burst of stars. Then he had his hands locked around the half-youkai's wrists, slippery and cold as eels.

Bracing his heels against the shattering ice, Sanzo lunged backwards, yanking Gojyo up into his arms. He staggered back until his legs abruptly gave out, and for a moment he thought that this was it, the ice would crack under him and they would both be pulled under...

He fell onto an incline on the river's shore, the snow compressing into a frozen seat under him. Draped over him, Gojyo coughed up the last of the water. He was trembling so hard he was shaking Sanzo as well, and his red hair fell into the monk's eyes, damp and freezing.

Shaking off the icy strands, Sanzo rocked back his head, looked up into the maelstrom of white engulfing them. Wondered how something so chaotic could at the same time be so soothing. Not threatening like the water, and the howl of the wind was almost a song. Gojyo stopped coughing, and his shivers now were less severe, slowing to arrhythmic, spasmodic tremors.

That...that was bad. "Get up, you damn kappa!" Sanzo shouted. He wasn't sure if he even heard himself above the wind, and Gojyo didn't respond. His eyes were closed--damn it, even the red lashes were rimmed with ice. Sanzo shoved himself up, every muscle in his body protesting, pushed Gojyo off him and levered himself upright. Then tried to drag up Gojyo as well, but it wasn't happening. That lanky height was all corded muscle; the half-youkai outweighed him by more than a few pounds. On a good day it wouldn't be a problem...this was not a good day. He needed Goku's strength, Hakkai's healing.

And who was he to rely on anyone? "Dammit!" Sanzo drew back his leg, kicked Gojyo in the shins. Hard.

Scarlet eyes cracked open. "Gimme...couple minutes," the kappa slurred.

"Get up. Now," Sanzo ordered. He was hoarse from shouting over the storm, and the icy air burned his lungs.

Gojyo rolled onto his side, into the snowbank, as if he were snuggling into a bed. "Jus'...lemme sleep..."

This is your fault. Sanzo stood there, swaying a little in the wind, and considered that this journey had never been his choice to begin with, and thus every decision he made upon it was ultimately irrelevant. That Gojyo was making a choice of his own here. That freezing to death was really quite a peaceful way to go.

Fuck that. Bending, he grabbed Gojyo's collar, hauled him up to his knees and smacked him smartly across the cheeks, twice. The half-youkai's eyes snapped open, completely this time, and Sanzo pulled his gun, put the muzzle to his temple and yelled in his ear, "You will walk!"

Gojyo stared. Sanzo had the distinct impression he didn't even remember the blizzard still raging around them. Then he nodded, clambered unsteadily to his feet as he stuttered, "W-where?"

How the hell should I know? Impossible to think in this mess. And Gojyo's eyes were sliding closed again--he was gray, under the tan, and his lips were as blue as if he had painted them.

'Just a cave above the waterfall,' the innkeeper had said. And they were above the water. It was a thin straw but Sanzo didn't have much choice about grasping it. "Up," he said. "Come on."

And Gojyo walked. Not fast, blindly staggering through the snow, and with every step he leaned more heavily on Sanzo, but he moved.

There were voices in the wind, promises of torture and death, but Sanzo was more concerned with the ones in his head. Every time his left foot fell and Gojyo stumbled against him, he heard whispers of how much faster he could go by himself, of how he was losing his only chance for survival. And every step with his right foot shot pain through his ankle that not even the cold numbed; he had twisted it on the ice somewhere, and the whispers told him how little it would hurt to lie in the snow, to be covered in a white blanket that would soothe away all pain and noise and bring the ultimate peace...

"Shut up," Sanzo growled through gritted teeth, to all the voices, "just shut the fuck up." And he kept walking with Gojyo.

He had just begun to debate with himself whether the flashes of color before his eyes were hallucinations or uniquely dyed snowflakes when he realized the snow had let up a little, revealing dim, dark shapes beyond the whiteness. Something strange about those trees, barely visible under the snow, wrong about how they were lying horizontal, one on top the other, and where were the branches...

Sanzo ran the last few feet, yanking Gojyo along with him, knocked up against the wood--the door, the door in the wilderness. He pawed away the snow, felt along the rough bark until his hands found the thick rope binding the logs. Farther along there was another rope, caked with ice, swinging free. He wrapped his hands around it--they were too cold to feel the twisted cording, but he clumsily looped it over his wrists and pulled, throwing his whole weight against it. Slowly, creaking over the wind, the door slid aside. It only moved a couple feet before the snow stopped it, but there was a crack of darkness in the white.

Gojyo had fallen, a broken doll, half-propped up by the shelter door. Sanzo took hold of his jacket and dragged him through the snow, ungently manhandled his limp body through the opening and fell inside after him. The cave was impossibly dark after the blinding white outside. Barely a man's height, rough loose stone covering the floor, but the thick rock muffled the wind. Pushing the door shut cut off the only strip of light, save a pale glimmer through the gaps between the logs. In the darkness, Sanzo shoved Gojyo further inside, then felt along the floor. There was a stack of wood in one corner, and a thick dusting of ash within a circle of stones.

Piling some of the wood and the dry, thin branches inside the circle, Sanzo dug through his robes until he found his lighter. He dripped a little of the butane onto the kindling, then tried to snap the flame to light, but his fingers were shaking too hard. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he blew on them, but could not feel the warmth of his breath, if it were still warm at all.

The dark quiet was so pronounced that his ears were ringing. He realized he could not hear Gojyo breathing. But maybe he was still deafened by the wind.

As he tried the lighter again, his lips moved, though Sanzo was barely aware of it. "Please." It was a prayer. Not to the Buddha, nor any god; not even to local spirits of wood or fire. A prayer, simply, to his own blood, that it would keep him moving; to his own hands, that they might stop shaking long enough for him to manage this; to Gojyo's heart, that it would continue to beat, just a little longer. "Please..."

to be continued...

Aa~ah, poor things. Don't worry, Sanzo-chan, I'll keep you warm! Just come over to this hottub here...

Big thanks to all the lovely people who left reviews. Glad you're finding it in character, real-circus, I hope I can keep that up! And nope, no yaoi here, UltraM2000 and ayie@Hairi - I'm afraid the boys won't have time for it anyway. *evil author grin* Unless you want to see it, of course... (You'll know what I mean...soon!)