Icewater
Never was a drabble to begin with
For Judy
By Gumnut
14 Jan 2004

The snow crunched beneath his flying feet.

Shattered ice broken into millions of tiny glass shards, ignored, yet a sullen tempo to the blood throbbing in his ears, a discordant orchestra illustrating the state of his heart.

He had to be there.

This couldn’t be happening.

The world was white. A glaring sun reflected off the winter landscape, its light betrayed only by its lack of heat. Dark shadows of pines, and the jagged spear of the mountain behind him the sole interruptions of the glistening blanket of snow.

There was no wind.

No breeze.

Everything was still.

The air drawn into his lungs was crisp and sharp, and a cloud of misting warmth followed his desperate plunge down the mountainside.

The only sound was his gasping breath.

His foot slipped on a patch of ice, and he was falling. Hands wrapped in fingerless gloves scrabbled to gain hold, skin catching on protruding rock enough to scrape and draw blood, yet not enough to grip and stop his downward plummet.

He yelped as his foot caught on an outcrop, his ankle taking his weight awkwardly, bending sideways, before the silence was broken by the sound of bone snapping.

Oh, god.

The outcrop flew past his face and he flung out an arm.

Fingernails dug in, grit scraping against their cuticles. Pain shot the length of his arm.

But he stopped.

His breath fogged his vision.

He heard himself whimper.

God, no.

Tears stung in his eyes.

Don’t think.

He had to be there.

Gathering himself, he reached out his other arm, hand scrabbling through snow and dirt. The limp strands of dying grass brushed against his fingertips, its covering of snow brushed off by his headlong descent. His hand found a hold.

He began his descent again.

No less hurried.

No less desperate.

He had to be there.

In parts he could stand, one legged, panting. In parts he had to climb. But he didn’t care if he had to crawl.

He had to be there.

**********

Snowmen.

Snowmen and snow ball fights.

The feeling of damp snow down the back of your jacket, melting in your hair, the chilled skin of your cheeks, reddened by your body’s desperate attempt to supply blood to cells exposed to the crisp, cold air.

It had only been a moment.

Smiles. Laughter. Even a giggle.

Innocence in a world polluted by guilt.

He had let his guard down.

And now there was a price to pay.

Eyes.

Eyes would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life.

Eyes that glowed. Menace, overshadowing that fatal bolt of orange energy.

Eyes of crystal blue, widening in surprise, sudden realisation, disappearing over an edge.

The horror, the pain, the scream of anguish, ricocheting off his own shock. Death dealt by the dozen. The deadly chatter of his weapon echoing off the rocks and swallowed by the snow.

His single minded stagger to the cliff edge.

His plunge down the mountainside.

The calls of his friends behind him, their muffled shouts as they attempted to follow him down.

This couldn’t be happening.

He had to be there.

**********

His feet buried themselves in snow, the drift reaching up his calves. His ankle took pressure and shouted back at him in pain before collapsing beneath him.

His mouth filled with ice.

But he had reached the bottom. Her lonely form a singular dark smudge on the snowfield.

It dragged him on.

Because this couldn’t be happening.

And he had to be there.

**********

She had laughed at him.

Daring to throw a ball of frozen water at her commanding officer’s head.

And he hadn’t ducked fast enough.

It had melted in his hair, icewater running down his back.

She had laughed.

Daniel had laughed.

Teal’c had simply smiled.

So he picked up one of his own, and, marksmanship being a forte of his, took out her latest hairstyle.

Then he had laughed.

The snowballs had fallen thick and fast.

The smiles, the laughter, the fun. His friends.

His responsibility.

His price.

He had to be there.

Even though he knew he was too late.

**********

The chill in his bones was not solely due to temperature, and as he finally reached her, his heart froze solid.

Her eyes stared back at him, no longer seeing, no longer smiling. She was no longer there. Only the vacancy he was far too familiar with. A vacancy he had hoped never to see held by this face.

Oh god, no.

He reached out a hand, his fingertip brushing against her pale skin, its temperature cooling in the absence of life.

No response.

“Sam?” His voice was as frozen as his heart.

She would never answer him. Never give him a long winded explanation to a simple question. Never frown in annoyed amusement at one of his sarcastic comments.

She was no longer there.

And never would be.

Because he hadn’t been there.

His guard had been brought down by her smile, and she had paid the price.

A single tear froze on his cheek.

Somewhere deep inside something died.

And the world just spun away……..

**********

Jack O’Neill flung himself up in bed. His body shook, his ankle sending throbbing messages up and down his leg. The cool breeze wafting in the open window chilled the sweat on his face, washing away the remnants of tortured sleep.

As his breathing calmed, he resisted the temptation to ring Carter for the fifth time this week. God, when would the nightmares end? Why had this time shaken him so much? It had all happened before, why play it over and over in his head like a record stuck in a groove?

Sam had survived, she hadn’t fallen. She lived. She laughed. She smiled.

But it had been close.

A warning.

He had let his guard down for a moment. Enjoyed her company as a friend, had a little fun.

And tempted tragedy.

Face it, O’Neill.

The dream was a reminder, to ward him off those smiling blue eyes.

Because his love could be the death of the both of them.

**********
FIN.