I – Of fire and ice

Disclaimer: I don't own AvP or any of the characters from the movie. This story however does.

A.N.: Many people here on have written an AvP-POV for Lex or even Scar, but what about the other characters? Take Adele Rousseau for example. What's the reason behind introducing characters by name if you kill them off anyway? Therefore, I have decided to write a POV for Adele Rousseau. She was my favourite and I hope this does her justice.

The sun had slowly begun to set as we finally found the entrance to the mine. The dying fireball cast rays of dim gold and orange onto the leaves above my head and the overgrown rocks in front of us. Brushing away one of the myriad of liana that covered the writings on the mine's entrance, I gave a short nod at our language expert. He was a small guy, dressed in clothes that made him look like a mini version of Indiana Jones. Just without weapons. As he stepped closer to examine the writings, I stepped back carefully and roamed my surroundings once again.

I didn't like the jungle that much. I liked the warmth, the heat, the showers that came down with promising regularity and the small chirps of the wildlife around me. I liked the lush green of the leaves, the trunks that grew higher and higher and always again made me marvel at Mother Nature and the beauty she offered. I liked the countless colours that caught my eye, the beautiful blossoms of what I knew where deadly plants. I even liked the tigers that I knew wandered the jungle, although they could be deadly enemies, especially with all those clueless and unarmed scientists around me. The tiger was my Chinese zodiac and I had always been fascinated by the strength, grace and sheer, wild beauty of nature that these animals represented.

What I didn't like, was the tricks that the jungle played on my mind and every single one of us.

First and foremost, there was the tricky depth of the flora that lured one so easily into death traps. Being a child of curiosity myself, I knew how hard it was not to give in to the temptations and walk the mysterious paths that lay hidden behind the green curtains. I remembered vividly when I was a child, growing up in France. We had been living close to the woods and whenever I saw a new, half-trampled path that lead somewhere new, I had to take it. I learned all my lessons the hard way and many pale scars on my arms, leg and some little ones on my face where the proof of just how dumb these decisions had been at times.

It hadn't been a problem then. In the woods where we had lived there were no tigers, no steep slopes that you could roll down just to break every bone in your body. And most important, there were no unaccounted for tribes of indigenous people who would throw spears at you or use poison tipped arrows to bring you down and possibly cook you for dinner.

That was my second reason for… not preferring the jungle. I didn't hate it, but the sheer possibility of these threats was – while interesting and tempting – something that dampened the joyful experience. Of course, my thoughts about the aboriginal people were simply stereotypical, but I'd rather expect the worst and hope the best, than the other way around. If they were friendly, good for us. If they were not, I didn't want to stick around to find it out the hard way.

But all this was not the problem. I was trained to fight both men and beast if necessary. I was trained to make my way through uneven terrain. I was trained to protecting people like the language expert and I had no problem with my job. It gave me satisfaction to know that I was needed, that I was doing something good. My job also kept me on my toes, quenching my thirst for ever new experiences, dangers and challenges. I liked my job as long as I knew that I could handle what I saw and heard. And there, I had my problem with the jungle.

I hated – not just disliked, no, I HATED – the tricks it played on my senses. The way I heard noises when there was nothing to make a noise. The way the shadows of giant trees moved constantly, always hiding from our view things that would vanish within seconds. The way the air rippled in front of my eyes, due to the heat. The spooky way the flora and fauna of this place surrounded me until I couldn't even tell whether I was walking in the right direction. And though all of us had been equipped with the technological means to counter these apparitions, they still made me feel uncomfortable. If there was anything that I hated more than being bored, it was being played tricks by my own mind.

The mini Indiana Jones walked up to me and pointed back at the entrance. He babbled something about ancient civilisations, about trinkets mentioned on the entrance tablet. Gems. Probably diamonds. He didn't know and I didn't bother. Nodding my head every once in a while I silently motioned my second in command to come and join us. From where I stood, the mine looked like nothing but a black hole leading into the deadly nothingness of some godforsaken ancient mineral deposit at the feet of the Himalaya. I didn't need to ask the other experts – mostly scientists of geology – for their "professional" opinion. They all looked as eager as my little friend here to walk right into what they didn't know and could possibly kill them. A few years ago, I would have frowned at that, but six years in Weyland's service had taught me to live with the fact that 99 per cent of all people were simply oblivious to danger.

My pager went of right as my comrade stood next to me and I grabbed quickly for my mobile radio. The number on the pager was that of Weyland. Turning away and taking a few steps, I pushed the button and spoke. "This is Rousseau. Mr. Weyland?"

"You sound a little unnerved, Adele." I heard his raspy voice crook through the radio, the occasional crackling noise interfering every now and then. I smiled shortly at the sentence before casting a quick glance at the scientists who were eagerly waiting in front of the entrance, my team keeping them from doing anything stupid. Or so I hoped. "They behave like little children over a llama in a petting zoo." I answered, my accent strengthened by the frustration in my voice. Immediately, I heard his soft chuckle at the end of the line. "Poor girl."

I gave the words a quick grin. The pity in his voice was half genuine and half amused, I knew. I had been working for security for almost eight years, but I had never met anyone like Charles Bishop Weyland. He was more like a father than like a boss towards his employees and I enjoyed the flair of familiarity in the corporation, the fact that most of us knew each other not only by name, but also personally. Somewhere along the way, the company had become my family.

"Shall I relieve you from this dreadful situation?"

"Where am I to go?" I knew already that it was not a question. It was command, an order, but I didn't care. As a matter of fact, I had enough of the jungle. I had spent nine days here in India and I was more than ready for a change. "It'd better not be some place hot. I already feel like a turkey in an oven." His rough chuckle came through with a crackle of the radio and I gave another look at where the sunlight came from. Darkness was slowly descending upon us. The dim gold had become orange and I knew it would soon be a heavy shade of red, before – all of a sudden – darkness would have overcome us. It would be a short conversation then.

"Oh, don't worry, the place is cool enough. A chopper will be waiting for you at the village tomorrow at 1500. Good night, Adele."

"Until tomorrow then. Good night." Switching the radio off, I turned back to face mini Indiana Jones and Hyes again. "We're setting up camp here tonight. " I said briskly before approaching the rest of my team and the scientists and clapping my hands to get their attention. "Listen up, everyone! We are setting up camp here tonight. You can start exploring the mine tomorrow, but for tonight, we are done. Starting tomorrow morning, Hyes will lead this team. Understood?" Affirmative phrases were muttered and I turned around only to find Hyes standing before me. Being one head shorter than he, I had to crane up my neck to look at his puzzled face. "Adele, what's going on?" I smiled shortly at his confusion before packing the radio back into one of my pockets. "I have to leave. Chopper will be waiting for me at 15000 at the village. Orders right from the boss."

"Lucky you. Where're ya going?"

"I don't know." I said simply and turn around to go and help setting up the tents. A thought struck my mind then and I turned back once again. Knowing that Hyes was just as tired of this jungle as I was, I smirked mischievously. "But he said it's some place cool."

-x-x-

I arrived at the village just in time to see the helicopter land. Charles Bishop Weyland was not a man who wasted time. I knew that and he had probably known that – even if everything went as smooth as it did – I would not reach the village before 1400. Glancing at my watch, I noticed that I still had a few minutes left and so I went to the little market, the centre of the village, to get myself something to eat. I had thought of taking water with me, but I hadn't accounted for the fact that the path back to the village led up the valley, leaving me with a softly growling stomach for the last two kilometres. It certainly wouldn't kill me, but still I preferred eating something before I took my leave.

My eyes quickly found the stand I had been looking for. On the ground before me lay a hand-woven carpet, and on it lay the fruit that I had so come to love since we had first come to this village. We had spent most of the nights here at the village and after three days knew perfectly what to eat and what not. The melon-like fruit had become my favourite, although I still couldn't pronounce its name. Smiling shortly at the man behind the carpet, I indicated the melon, showing two fingers and gave him the money. Immediately, I got two of the fruits handed to me, answered by a bowing of his head that I quickly returned. We didn't need to talk. I had become a regular guest and the only thing that ever varied in my order was the amount. Packing one of the fruits into my bag and taking out my pocket knife, I returned to the chopper. I had almost finished carving up my melon when I found myself standing directly in front of Maxwell Stafford.

"Max?" I gasped in surprise and he gave me that I-know-it-all-smile that was so typical of him. I didn't really know what to think about Max. He could be fun to be with at times, but he could also be the most arrogant asshole I had ever met and so I usually avoided spending too much time in his company. To see him standing there, in front of me, was more than just a surprise. He was Charles' advisor, his right hand and probably also the closest thing to a friend that Charles had. It was rare for Charles to send HIM out to pick up people and immediately I felt the first twinge of suspicion inside me. Something was not right. "I'm a little surprised to see you." I finally managed and his smile turned into soft chuckles as he led me back to the helicopter.

"Charles asked me to come and pick you up, but I'm afraid we will not even have the time to talk. I still have to pick up another… guest for the next expedition and I am only here to present you with the facts."

I hadn't even finished cutting off the first bit of my melon when we stopped in front of a chopper. Not the one from before, my mind added. Stopping chewing immediately, I glanced up and down the huge machine. This one was simple, plain and did not have the Weyland logo on it. The other one had. After a quick search of my surroundings, I found it only a few metres away. "Okay, Max, what the hell is going on here?" My question was answered with a smile and a file of papers that suddenly landed in my hands. Juggling with my knife, the lemon and the file in order not to lose one of them, I watched as Max smirked again and left. I would never understand that man, I finally decided for myself. Cursing him shortly in my mother tongue I get into the chopper and signalled the pilot to start the engine, all the while feeling that I had just left one hell for another.

-x-x-

My assumptions were proven correct as I went through the papers, the noise of the flying helicopter all around me and a piece of melon between my teeth. I didn't have to ask the pilot where we were heading.

The papers spoke of an Island called Bouvetoya and I took a look at the attached map to find out just where in God's name we were going. I caught sight of the degrees of longitude and latitude and immediately coughed out the piece I had been chewing on. I read the report twice to make sure that I really read what I read, but I soon realised that this was neither a dream nor a bad joke.

Antarctica.

For God's mercy, Antarctica! I wanted to scream, to kick, to smash something, but my anger soon dissolved. I had left the hell of fire for the hell of ice, but I knew that there was nothing I could do about it anymore. If Charles wanted me to go to Antarctica, then to Antarctica I would go. I had wanted to go to a "cool" place - now I was. A bitter laugh escaped my mouth as the irony of these words seeped in. What the heck had I gotten myself into?

And there I had it. I. It was a simple matter of fact. I. If there was someone to blame for what happened to me, it was me, and only me. I could have said no. I could have declined and even though I was sure Charles would not have been happy with my decision, I knew that he would have come to accept it eventually. He wasn't one to force people into working for him. I was the one who had wished to leave the jungle. And after all, Antarctica didn't sound as bad as India.

It was true it would be a very, very "cool" expedition and I wondered shortly whom he had picked to lead us. It didn't really matter. Antarctica was barren, yes but it was also a beautiful land, a pure land, a wild land. A land that one had to tame. A challenge. Just the way I like it. And besides, I doubted it would be half as bad as the jungle. No dangerous wildlife that would want to kill me, no shimmering apparitions in the air that would make me feel like there was something, when clearly there was not. No indigenous people to drive spears through my body. Yes, Antarctica didn't sound too bad.

Having finished my melon, I quickly cleaned up my knife and put it back into my bag. "Do we expect any more visitors, or are we going straight for the island?" I called out to the Island and the short answer I got was "no, madam". Deciding that I could very well take a little nap before the real fun would begin, I put my feet up on the bench and leaned back against the hull of the chopper, packing my jacket in between the metal and my head. I felt my attention drift quickly and a smile crossed my lips. This was definitely better than the jungle.