Cold As Ice

Written for the NFA Cold Challenge

Genre: Suspense/Angst

Rating: T/FR 13

Characters: Tim, Ellie, Tony, Gibbs, Ducky

Summary: Freezing to death in the middle of summer was not something he ever anticipated.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of their respective copyright holders. No infringement intended. The original characters and places mentioned are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to those living, dead, or undead is completely coincidental.

"Nothing burns like the cold."
― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

Just keep moving…

Tim mumbled to himself as he shuffled across the narrow space, doing his best to avoid slipping and falling on the ice that coated the floor. Of all the places to spend what would likely be his last hours, a walk-in freezer in a meat-packing warehouse was definitely not the locale he would have chosen. As he made a slow circuit of the large metal room, he thought back to how he had wound up in this mess in the first place.

Their latest case, which had at first looked like straight-forward homicide had become increasing complicated at each new shred of evidence had come to light. The team soon discovered that there were two other homicides with similar modus operandi, and Tony had cheerfully speculated that they were potentially dealing with a serial killer.

Gibbs had sent Ellie and McGee to check out one of the other homicide scenes and to canvass the area for witnesses. Unfortunately, that scene had been just outside warehouse that was being used as a base for a mob-controlled smuggling operation. Two guards had noticed their presence and had approached, setting off Tim's inner alarm. He and Ellie had tried to casually return to their car but were cut off by another pair of guards who decided to give chase.

Tim and Ellie ran as fast as they could towards the river, hoping to back track and make it to their car but were cut off by a third pair of guards. Tim instructed Ellie to go left while he went right, hoping the guards would see him as the bigger threat and give Ellie a chance to escape, but she insisted she wasn't going to leave him behind. Finally the guards cornered them, and he ordered Ellie to run, which she did reluctantly, bolting like a jackrabbit and dodging two beefy men with surprising agility. Tim was given only a moment to watch her fleeing figure before he received a hard punch to the stomach, knocking the wind out of him and causing him to double over in pain. The last glimpse he had of Ellie was her taking a less-than-graceful dive into the river, followed by a hail of bullets. He prayed that she had escaped but feared that he really had seen the last of the new probie.

The men roughly searched him and, after finding his badge, ID and cell phone unceremoniously threw them into the river. They marched him inside the warehouse, where a heavily muscled and tattoo-covered man was waiting. The man studied Tim with a cruel smile before instructing his henchmen to 'put the fed on ice'. Tim hadn't realized he meant that literally until they took him to another building, shoved him into a large, cold room and slammed the door shut.

They had not taken Tim's watch, and it told him nearly an hour had passed as he made yet another circuit of the frigid room. He tried to remember some of the cold survival techniques he had learned as part of his training and to teach his group of Youth Rangers, but none of them seemed to be helping him in his current situation. His lightweight summer jacket and cotton button-down provided little protection from the cold, and he had nothing to use to cover his head. He unbuttoned his shirt and tucked his hands in against his sides to keep them warmer, but he could feel the cold seep into the skin of his face and ears. Occasionally he would pull his hands out to cover his ears, trying to warm them up, but the exercise seemed futile. He was losing too much heat to be able to protect his extremities with any sort of efficiency.

Time passed with excruciating slowness. Tim continued he efforts to fight off the encroaching cold, but his movements grew more sluggish with each trip around his frigid prison. The irony of the situation, that he was likely going to freeze to death in the middle of July, suddenly hit him and he started to laugh, a sound that contained more than a hint of hysteria. He quickly stopped when he realized just how close he was to a mental breakdown and tried to keep his mind occupied with other things, all while thinking that if Hell was in fact endothermic, it would feel something like his current surroundings.

During the next of his countless circuits of his prison, Tim slipped and fell, hitting the icy concrete with a bone-jarring crash. He tried to push himself up, well aware that the cold floor would leach even more heat from his body if he stayed there longer than necessary. After nearly a minute of struggling he was able to make it to his feet again, well aware that if he fell again, he would never get back up.

His thoughts turned to Ellie and he once again offered a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that she had made it out of there alive. He knew that if she had, she would do everything in her power to bring help, but as the minutes continued to tick by he grew less certain that she had survived the guards' pursuit.

Tim fought to keep his eyes open as he took a pause in his routine. He noticed that he had stopped shivering, a very bad sign, and the struggle to remain upright was one he was fast losing. He tried to take another step and his knees gave out, once again sending him to the floor. This time he knew he wouldn't be able to get up again and started to prepare himself for the inevitable. He wrapped his arms around his knees, drawing himself up into a tight a ball as possible in an effort to retain the last remnants of his precious body heat. His mind started to drift, bouncing from one memory to the next: his childhood exploits with his fellow Navy-brats, his years at MIT and Johns Hopkins, his first case, the triumphs, the losses, the good and the bad. His final thought was that he hoped wherever he ended up, at least it wouldn't be so cold…

Tim opened his eyes and blinked. The first thing he noticed was that he was no longer freezing. The next was that whatever he was lying on was soft and warm, not hard and cold. He blinked again and soon a pair of faces came into view, both wearing relieved expressions as they met his gaze.

"Welcome back, McGee."

"Boss…Tony…Ellie?"

"She's fine, Tim. You're going to be fine, too. We found you in the nick of time."

"Thank…you."

"Anytime, McGee. Anytime."

Tim managed a smile before he succumbed the pull of unconsciousness, the warmth of those smiling faces following him down into a natural, peaceful sleep.

The End