It was a cold November morning. It was a week before Thanksgiving, and ever other shop window was filled with sale signs and Christmas decor. The sun was slowly coming up over the city, melting away the slushy snow that laid in clumps on the ground. The air was bitter cold, with a breeze coming off the bay making it worse. People that dared to venture out were covered head to toe in warm clothing. A couple occupied the park that sat across from the bay, throwing a Frisbee to their husky. The furry dog seemed to love the chilly morning air. He ran after his toy with eagerness to please. 

The Frisbee landed in the wet grass next to a very strange man. He was laying on the ground, in nothing but a pair of boxers, barely conscious. He thought he was burning to death, his insides so hot they could boil, yet his skin was ice cold. The dog trotted over to retrieve his toy, then stopped to sniff the man. The owners quickly called him back, having just now noticed the stranger. They put their dog on a leash and quickly left, not even bothering to see if he was still alive. Perhaps because the man was huge. He had to have been near 7 feet tall, and his frame was muscular. He looked like a biracial mix between black and white, with a head of dreadlocks that had a couple leaves stuck in them. His body was riddled with scars and bruises, all in different stages of healing. His face was nice, but the rest of him was pretty intimidating. 

~~
Garin tucked the hood of his jacket up against his cheek and kept up pace along the park way. His breath left white smoke with each hit of foot to the pavement. It was chilled outside and gorgeous, in only the way a very cold day could. 

“.. but should we call 911?” a woman held to a dog's leash and looked over his shoulder as her companion drew her toward the path off of the grassed knoll. 

“Probably not,” the man growled. “He looked strung out.” 

“That doesn't mean that he doesn't need hel-” the woman's voice faded further on as Garin turned and stared at the grass and trees. 

Well, nine one one was a bit of a red flag. He sniffed, wiped the back of his hand across the bottom of his chilled nose, then trotted up the grass. A bare shoulder and head came into view. Garin slowed, tilted his head as he came up on the man, shock growing. 

Seriously? Naked as a jay bird. Well, not totally naked, but pretty damned close. With a frown, Garin went to the side of the man, eyes swept over the man's body to find that it was blue, chilled, which wasn't a shock. “Hey man,” he unzipped his jacket and tugged it off. “You okay?” 

The man was quiet and Garin drew the jacket over the man's body. “Damn, you're cold as ice. How're you doing?” He reache down to touch the man's neck, finding a pulse and damp, as if the man had been sweating. He bent over the man, searched into the pockets for his cell to call for help, and gave the man a gentle shake. “C'mon, bud, eyes open.” 

~~

A sudden, sharp breath came from the man. He opened his eyes just enough to see a blurry image of the person hovering over him. He could feel a jacket being wrapped around him, but he was so damn hot! He weakly pushed a hand against the man, too sick to even move him. He gave a soft groan and used great effort to roll onto his stomach, then to curl up with his knees tucked under him. Why couldn't he just die already? He felt as though he would any moment. He felt as though he'd been locked into a sauna turned on high for hours on end. 

Sweat dripped across his skin, only making his outside colder. His lips were blue. When he heard the beeping of a cellphone dialing, he let out a soft, drawn out, "Nooo." He didn't want to be taken to a hospital. Too many questions would be asked, and he would surely be carted off to jail. 

~~

And fairly delusional as well, from what he could tell. The man was quiet and looked in terrible shape. Garin dialed and when the other side picked up, talked quickly. 

“Gotta situation. Park, near kiddie toys, come now. Seriously, forget the damned pizza. Some guy's here and needs some medical attention. You know where the clinic is, right? He's got like, no ID on him, are you coming?” 

Without waiting for an answer, he closed the phone and leaned over the man, touching his brow and his sides. “No signs of injury. You are some kinda sick or … something, what the hell?” he frowned as he ran his hands down the man's legs, his arms, checked his neck. He had been a boy scout once. When he was sure nothing was broken that he could see, he carefully cradled the man's head and turned him on his side to look at his back. 

“Hey,” a voice panted from behind him. 

“Good. You bring the car up close?” 

“Or you could call the ambulance?” the woman crouched down beside the man, dragged her own coat off and threw it over his legs. “What the hell?” 

“Dunno. He's cold, sweating, and we gotta get him to someplace, you know what's wrong with him?” Garin frowned as he ran his hand down the man's back. “No broken bones, abdomen...” He turned his head to look at his friend. “His pulse seems fine, but he's blue as a smurf, Allie.” 

“Pretty cold,” she said as she drew Garin's coat up and began to run her hands down the man's stomach. “I'm more concerned that he's naked and in the middle of the park. Is he a mental patient or coming off a bad trip?”

“He doesn't show signs of being hit or hurt at all. So that makes it hard to tell. You wanna help me? See if we can get him up?” 

Allie pushed on the man's stomach and then pulled back. The guy was pretty much out of it and she sighed. “Yeah. I parked right across from the kiddie park. Park security should come by, I'm sure someone's seen him and called by now. We can drop by the clinic or by the hospital, your choice.” 

“Let's get him inside first,” Garin grunted as he heaved an arm under the man's shoulders and pulled him up to a sitting position, then drew the man's arm around his neck. “Good Samaritan act, right? Dammit. This better not be some stupid frat kid prank gone wrong.” 

Allie tucked in on the other side of the man and looked at his lean, scarred torso as she tied Garin's coat around the man's waist. “I don't think this guy's anything like frat.” 

~~

The mysterious man put up a mild, weak struggle as they loaded him into a car. Getting him in was no meager feat; he was in no way small. His lack of compliance only made it more difficult. But once on a seat, he settled down and seemed to accept his fate; whatever it may be. He curled up as much as his position would allow. As the burn from steroid overdose slowly wore down, he realized that he was freezing cold. He was still too out of it to tell who he was with, but he assumed that they worked for his father. He always tried so hard to run away, but the man always found him. 

The man trembled like a leaf, his hair soaked with melted snow, and his skin red on the side that had laid on the snowy ground. His lips slowly began to regain color in the warmth of the car. His hands and feet burned as feeling returned to them. 
(needle marks on arm from repeated needle use)

~~