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Drifting ice

Summary:

Everyone comes from somewhere... so, just how did Zane and Dr. Julien come to live in the Birchwood forest?

Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter Text

Julian smiled to himself as the door opened with a puff of cold air, heralding the return of his son. 

"Father! I require the medical kit, this man needs aid." 

Julian hurriedly unpacked the medical kit, ready for whichever animal his son had rescued on his walk- wait? Did he say man? 

He dropped the kit on the table and ran to the staircase, where Zane was carrying an unconscious man. Julian's heart skipped a beat, what was this man doing here? Who did he bring? Zane carried the man just beyond the stairs and laid him out on the floor. 

"I found him like this Father, regretfully there was a pack of Treehorns and I had to move him before completing my initial scan. However I do not believe he has any spinal injuries-" 

Julian ignored his son, racing up the stairs and peering out the still open door into the snow drift. He couldn't see anyone else, and could only hope that the sudden snow storm and hostile fauna would dissuade any others who might be out there. 

"-ather? Father?" Julian closed the door and tuned back into the situation at hand. His son looked worriedly at him. He smiled, attempting to mask his anxiety with reassurance. 

"My apologies son, can't let any of that snow get in now can we?" He walked down the stairs and grabbed the medical kit once more. "Now, how may we help this gentleman, hmm?"

----

Julian stared at their guest as he sat beside their rest bed. Nothing about them indicated a threat, but looks could certainly be deceiving. 

Zane was satisfied at least; the man would ultimately be alright. Although his condition would require several weeks of rest for full recovery. 

He considered humorously to himself that, for a roboticist, he'd never paid enough attention to the uncomfortable ethical thought experiments that categorised his field. Ignored the spirited hypotheticals in uni, and remained purposefully ignorant when those hypotheticals became reality in his work. Until it was too late, too obvious to ignore. 

He could only hope this man didn't give him another choice that he wished he could bring himself to regret.