Icestorm (part 4) written by Maddie Mumford

Note :
This story was originally printed in the 'We'll Always Have Paris', Vol. 2 fanzine available through Unicorn Press

Paris struggled up the slight incline, Kes' delicate weight a noticeable burden as his feet and hands grew numb with cold and maintaining his footing on the icy rocks became increasingly difficult. The cave he had detected was a few hundred feet higher on the slope. Wind driven sleet lashed his unprotected face, stung his eyes, and crunched as it built up underfoot. If he didn't find the cave soon, he would have to take another tricorder reading. That would mean laying Kes down on the freezing ground, increasing her chances of succumbing to the hypothermia that had already robbed her of consciousness. But if he didn't find shelter soon that wouldn't matter, because he did not think she would survive the elements much longer. He cursed silently, damning his own lack of knowledge. How did Ocampa physiology cope with low temperatures? Accustomed to a rigidly controlled, temperate climate of the underground shelter the Caretaker had provided, they were slight of build, without the mass needed to tolerate excesses of cold. He knew how a human reacted, but what of Kes? She seemed so frail. She might already have suffered irreparable damage. Lifting his head against the cutting ice, he squinted into the gloom. The world, that had been sunshine, warmth and blue sky mere hours ago, had become a gray demon, gray sky, and rain pelting lifeless rock. But he thought he saw a darker blotch in the grayness, perhaps it was the mouth of the cave. Shifting his burden, he tried to increase his pace, took two steps forward, then found himself sliding downward, struggling to maintain his balance. He came to a jarring halt as his knee struck a protruding rock. Cursing silently, he rose gingerly to his feet, ignoring the throbbing ache in his knee as he ignored the lack of sensation in his feet. Dragging himself forward, he inched up the slope toward the beckoning shadow. It had to be a cave, he repeated to himself. Had to be.

It *was* a cave of sorts, a depression in the rock barely six feet deep, and just high enough for him to stand in if he stooped, but it was shelter from the driving ice if the wind did not change direction. He lay Kes on the cold stone floor, alarmed by the bluish tint to her lips. He had to get her dry and warm and he had to do it fast. Glancing around the cave, he found the floor covered with a litter of twigs and dry leaves. Fire starter, he thought, fighting to keep his own chaotic thoughts in order. He just needed something else to keep it going once he got it started.
Taking a deep breath, he dashed out into the freezing rain one more time. Raking gusts of wind pounded the ice against him with increasing fury. He had seen a tree below. If he could find a few broken limbs dry enough to ignite with the tinder on the cave floor, he might be able to build a small fire. Crashing blindly down the slope he had just struggled up, he worked with frantic speed, collecting as many pieces of wood as he would carry. Urgency pushed him forward. He knew Kes would not survive much longer. Dragging himself back up the rocky hill, he deposited his armload inside the cave mouth, quickly checked Kes pulse, then dashed back out in search of anything he could use to block the mouth of the cave and preserve their limited heat.
Most of the vegetation had been pounded flat and coated with ice, but he was able to drag an second armload of the tall, distinctive grasses that marked the lower slopes back to the cave. Encrusted with ice, the weight might be enough to withstand the wind. He fell twice, unable to keep his footing on the treacherous slope, striking his knee again the second time he fell. He ignored the throbbing as he fought the final few yards to the cave.

Dropping to his knees inside, he crawled to Kes' side. The Ocampa was till unconscious, her clothing soaked, her skin clammy. His own hands were stiff with cold.

"I've got to get you warm and dry," he said to his unresponsive companion.
Unfastening the front of his own uniform, he stripped off his gray turtleneck. It was still fairly dry, having been protected by the tough, slightly waterproof, material of his uniform jumpsuit. He shivered as the chill air struck his skin, and quickly pulled his jumpsuit back over his shoulders. It felt clammy against his bare skin.

"Neelix will kill me if he ever finds out about this," Paris muttered again, half to himself.

With fumbling fingers, he began to unfasten Kes' tunic, peeling the soaked garment off, along with the layers underneath. It was like undressing a rag doll, a rag doll that was wet to the skin. He rubbed her briskly with his dry shirt, stimulating the circulation in her limbs. Then he slipped the turtle neck over her head and arms, breathing a more relaxed breath once she was clothed in something dry again. Clothed, but not out of danger.

"Yeah," he said aloud, "Neelix may kill me if he finds out I stripped his lady, but he'd definitely kill me if I let her die."

Working frantically, Paris scraped together a pile of dry leaves and tinder, placed a few smaller sticks on top, then the heavier wood. This has got to work, he thought. One thing he did remember from his father's survival course was how to start a fire. He remembered starting several, usually by unorthodox means, more to aggravate his father, than to please him, and to show him some things could be done better if you ignored the proper procedures. Now, he just needed a spark, and the circuitry in his tricorder would provide it. Within a few minutes, he had a small fire kindled, sputtering, and struggling for life, but a fire. When he was sure the fire would continue to burn, he turned once again to the cave mouth, pulling the grasses across the opening, cutting as much of the cold air and wind as he could.

Then he gently lay Kes as close to the fire as he dared. Her skin was still far too cold, her face white and frighteningly still. He quickly checked the chronograph on Kes' tricorder. Almost two hours had elapsed since the storm struck. They had been in the cave approximately thirty minutes. It seemed an eternity. He was exhausted, his knee ached where it had struck the icy rocks, his hands and feet had begun to warm and now tingled with returning life. Lowering himself to the ground, he lay between Kes and the cave opening giving in to the trembling of his own body as it fought against the cold. On her other side was the fire, its feeble warmth barely penetrating the cold. Paris' breath hung like a frozen cloud each time he exhaled. Wrapping his arms around the Ocampa, he drew her close, cradling her into his body, to shelter her from the wind and lend some of his body heat to her. She had to live.

Resting his cheek against the tousled top of her blonde head he whispered into her hair, willing her to respond.

"Come on Kes, pull through. You have to."

Kes shifted slightly, snuggling into the warmth of the body lying full length along her own. Arms and legs enveloped her, and though relaxed in sleep, held her close. Near her right ear, loud in the silence, she could hear the slow rhythm of a heartbeat, and feel the gentle rise and fall of breathing. Afraid she might break the gentle magic, of feeling so warm and so safe, she barely opened her eyes.
Black. Neelix never wore black, she thought, her mind still foggy. Following the seam line in front of her slitted eyes, she caught the glitter of a communicator pin, then a splash of muted wine. A Starfleet uniform, not Neelix. Then, it came back to her, as much as she remembered before succumbing to the cold. The lashing rain, turning so quickly to ice, and the wind. Running with Tom as they sought shelter from the storm. She had been so cold. So terribly cold. And so sleepy. She did not remember exactly when she lost consciousness. Tom had thought he had located a cave. He must have. It was a warm cave.

She shifted slightly so she could see his face. He looked remarkably childlike, and innocent when he was asleep. The few times he had been confined to sickbay, she had been too concerned about his health to watch him sleep. The classically sculpted, lines of his face, took on an almost spiritual peace. The picture hardly fit his reputation. He would probably be insulted to know she found him childlike, but she saw the softness in complimentary way. She wondered if the face she now saw mirrored the spirit he kept so carefully hidden. She had never completely believed the things the crew men and women on Voyager said about him, yet the hardened, experienced, devil may care, persona he so carefully maintained seemed molded by those opinions. Defensive tactics, she thought hazily. Shifting her weight, she rested her head against his chest once more, listening the steady beat of his heart. The cave was lit by a diffuse glow from the cave mouth, it must be near dawn. With a deep sigh, she settled and allowed herself to drift lazily in and out of sleep, reveling in the comfort and warmth of his closeness.

Something was tickling his nose. He reached up to brush the annoying thing away and as he did so the slight weight resting against him shifted, and he tightened his arms around it. Then he heard a muffled giggle. Starting suddenly awake, he looked down into large blue eyes, and a disheveled head of fair hair, and remembered where he was and with whom. She tilted her head, watching him through tangled bangs, a puzzled crease forming between her brows, making her look for all the world like the old Manx cat his mother had owned when he was a small child. The mix of lively curiosity and concern, made Paris uncomfortable.

"You're all right?" he said, then realized how obvious the statement was.

Kes nodded, light dancing in her eyes. "Yes. And warm."

Her hand came up to brush the side of his face, and he realized she was still clothed in his gray turtleneck. And little else, he remembered. The relief that had rushed through him as he realized Kes was awake and alert, was replaced by the liquid warmth of desire as he remembered how closely he held the Ocampa to him and what he had been dreaming shortly before he awoke.

*Don't even think it* he told himself clamping down on thoughts and emotions far to tempting. He pushed her away slightly, reluctant to release her completely, but not trusting himself to hold her near.

"The doctor was right. Your ears really do turn decidedly orange," Kes murmured "though I would call it pink."

It was his turn to give her a puzzled look. And was rewarded again with her laughter, a light, sound like crystal wind chimes on a warm evening, delicate and ethereal. He decided he was not going to ask what had prompted the Doctor's observation. Instead, he pulled farther away from her. The cave had warmed, and though his fire was reduced to glowing coals, there was enough heat left to maintain a comfortable temperature. He was about to sit up when her face lit, and she smiled, radiantly, reaching out toward him again.
He felt the puzzled expression crease his brow once more, just as her hand stopped inches away. Then he saw why she had smiled. Splattering her delicate white skin, dancing across her fingers, and flowing through them to stain the wall behind was a rainbow of color. Kes sat up, smiled at him then crawled to the mouth of the cave. Rolling to his back, Paris watched as she sat transfixed. During the night, ice had coated the grassy fronds he had used to cover the mouth of the cave, using them as a web-like support, until the entire mouth of the small depression was sealed by a glassy wall, cutting off the frigid wind, and preserving the heat from his small fire. It had probably saved their lives, by conserving their body heat in this confined space. And now, clear wedges of ice, acting like prisms, split the morning sunshine into shafts of color.
Kes sat back on her heels before the frozen shield, delighted by the simple beauty, and Paris found his heart echoing her pleasure.

"It's lovely," Kes said, turning to him with a smile.

"Yeah," he agreed, though it wasn't rainbows he was watching.

Kes reached out, touching the frozen wall with one slender finger, tracing the patterns of grasses and ice, transfixed, and herself transfixing.

*If you only knew how many times I daydreamed about having you alone,* Paris thought. Then dashed the dream as he had done before. He and Neelix had come to an understanding about their mutual feelings for Kes. They had even come to be friends, as much as Paris allowed any relationship to develop into friendship. He had told himself over and again, that he could never have Kes, had almost forgotten how much he had wanted her and yet, there were dreams. Dreams to be forgotten.

"I guess that means the sun's up," Paris said, to distract his own thoughts.

"Yes, and the storm is over."

Kes started to turn in his direction, then stopped, her eyes closing. Her hands went to her head, massaging her temples.

"Kes!" Paris felt his heart skip with concern.

Getting to his feet, ignoring the lingering ache in his knee, he collected Kes' tricorder, and moved to kneel beside her, scanning her vital signs as he did. Her blood pressure was terribly low, as were her blood sugar levels, her heartbeat slow and faint.

"Kes, talk to me."

Reaching out he took her wrist in his hand. Though she claimed to be warm, her flesh was cold to his touch. Looking at him, her eyes frosted, and unfocused. As he took her shoulders in both hands, she stared at him, then slowly became more alert.

"Dizzy," she said simply.

"I'm not surprised." Paris answered. "You haven't eaten in several hours. And you haven't completely recovered from the cold. I'm sorry Kes, but I think we need to break down this wall. Its beginning to melt anyway. I'll scan the area for possible food sources."

"All right." Kes looked down at her attire. "While you're gone I'll dress."

Paris nodded. Glad she didn't ask how she had come to be clad in his shirt. She seemed unfocused and slightly disoriented. Sitting up, with her blood pressure so low, must have contributed to the dizziness. He needed to find food fast.

"It's gotten warmer outside."

Placing his shoulder against the ice wall, he leaned his weight against it and was rewarded with a satisfying crack as the ice gave beneath the pressure. Chipping away the shards of frozen water and grass, he looked out, and heard Kes gasp behind him. With good reason he thought. The world outside, the same world that had raged in potent fury yesterday, had become a frozen wonderland. The sky was once again clear and crystal blue, the trees and undergrowth, like the grasses in the cave mouth, were glazed with ice, shimmering as morning sunlight glinted from ice crusted branches and leaves, posed like lead glass figurines polished to perfection. Around him he could hear the steady drip of thawing ice and the rustle and chirrup of small animals stirring to activity.
It truly was lovely. Leveling his tricorder outward, he began to scan the immediate area. The chronometer indicated it might be several hours before Voyager could attempt routine contact or rescue depending on the degree of interference caused by atmospheric and solar disturbances. In the meantime, this small cave would provide sufficient shelter, making food and water their first priority.
The tricorder bleeped decisively.

"What is it?" Kes asked, peering over his shoulder.

"Life sign. Large enough to be human."

"From Voyager?" Kes asked.

Paris could hear the hope brightening her tone. Hope his next words crushed into oblivion.

"Kazon." he answered softly.