A/N: Well, I've gone and done it. I had an idea hit me out of the blue and now I've fallen into rarepair hell. Come join me and see if I can actually pull this off while keeping them in character. For context, this assumes that Mike was quick enough to save Jess from dying and that the diary was found.

Since I'm still in the process of finishing Broken Parable, updates to this story may not be very consistent. Now, this doesn't mean months between chapters - more like there might be three in two days or one over the course of two weeks. It's not getting abandoned, regardless of whether anyone else is as interested in this ship as I am. I'm content to suffer alone if need be. 3

Chapter 1:

It's Strange

Jessica had never been this cold.

Okay, that wasn't entirely true. It had probably been colder when she was being dragged through the snow by her hair, but that was different. That was freezing, but it had been immediate and superficial. Her skin had been nearly burned by the ice and snow, but her heart had been pounding, her blood pumping. It was fierce and furious, but not like this.

This cold was deeper. She felt it in her bones. Past the point of her teeth chattering, she simply stumbled along, numb. Finding the boots and coat had helped, but not by much. The cold was in her veins now. Her tongue was cold. If it was still there. She wasn't sure she could feel it. Of course, it didn't particularly matter. There was no one to talk to down here.

"When I leave this world, I'll have no regrets."

God, she'd been so fucking confident when she'd put that as her yearbook quote. She'd loved the attitude behind it, the mental image it provoked. Well, and she loved Beyoncé, but that was beside the point. She'd planned to live by that quote.

No regrets.

But here she was, staring death in the face—or trying to—and she had nothing but regrets.

The dim tunnel wavered in front of her eyes and she paused, leaning heavily on the wall. Memories came in fits and starts, leaving her unsure what was real and what was a nightmare she'd concocted in her own head. Something strong and grey and almost scaly. Sharp teeth and wild eyes. A butterfly. A lot of butterflies. Screaming. Deer. Snowballs. Mike. Emily. Matt. Desire and warmth and the crackle of fire. It was all there, in her brain, but she just couldn't get it to sync properly. The order was off, the details were wrong. Maybe. Probably.

Instead, whenever she chased after one snippet of memory, she found her mind in a different place. Like remembering the time she got busted for lying about the pudding cups in 2nd grade or how much she really, really wanted a piece of warm peach cobbler. It was less than helpful.

It was all she could do to keep walking, one hand desperately holding the coat closed tight, the other hand holding the lantern. One foot. Then the other. Repeat as needed. The boots scuffled on the ground as she trudged slowly forward, barely able to lift her feet clear. She was stumbling, she could it, could see it in the way the tunnel wove dizzily around her.

In the distance, something clanked and there was a hoarse scream. The sound made her insides seize up, all her muscles tensing, urging her to run.

It came again, closer this time. The lantern rattled in her shaking hand.

She'd have to run. She wouldn't let it take her again. She'd never survive. There was no Mike this time, no shouting hero leaping after her with a gun.

The only option was to keep from being caught at all.

She ran. Or at least tried to. Her body was refusing to listen to her commands. She wasn't an athlete any more, but she had danced for long enough that she knew she should be able to do this. It was such a simple thing, to run. And yet her muscles were locking up, weakening. It was like one of those nightmares where you just couldn't get away.

The scream shook the air again, even closer. She could hear the sound of something piercing rocks, a strange scrape and thunk that was like nothing she'd ever heard before. It was coming.

It was coming.

Jess shook her head, stumbling as she lurched forward. What the fuck had her life become?

A hand seized her hard around the arm and yanked. Her voice was ruined; her yelp was no more than a choked gasp. Another freezing hand latched over her mouth and she was pulled tight against someone. The sudden motion made her head ache and she shut her eyes against the suddenly dancing light of the lantern as it swam through the air in front of her.

Breath stirred the air by her ear. "Red light, green light. It's just like red light, green light. Don't let them see you wobble."

She was too dizzy to do much more than lean against whoever was holding her. They didn't seem to be immediately dangerous and she just didn't have it in her to struggle. Especially not when that thing was so near. So she just stayed as still as she could, breathing as slowly as possible against the hands of her savior—or was it 'captor'?

Really, it didn't matter.

Because… of course. Of course, she'd die. She should have known she'd die up here. It was kind of fitting, in a morbid, gross way. It would be nice to die wearing more clothes, she thought vaguely, though she imagined Emily would have some choice, biting words on that exact topic. It'd be an interesting funeral service, if they ever found her body.

And then it was there. The scraping, scrambling, hissing thing was right on top of them. It loomed in her vision, seeming to pulse and shift. If she'd had more energy, she might have struggled or twitched or done something to move, but now she felt almost numb to the reality of the razor-sharp teeth crowded into its mouth, its wide, unblinking eyes, the butterfly tattoo on its… wait, a butterfly tattoo?

Before she had a chance to focus on that particular thought, it flickered in her mind and was gone. As the thought vanished, so did the thing, hurling itself away from them and down the passageway with another shriek, vanishing into the darkness.

After a long, tense moment of silence, she felt the person holding her sag. Their arms dropped, letting her go. She stumbled away, catching herself hard on a rough wooden post, and turned, lifting her lantern and peering forward.

For a few seconds, all her eyes could do was track movement as a humanoid figure paced in a tight circle, hands gesticulating wildly. Then their circle took them forward, more into the path of the light. Jess took stock, trying to piece individual details together to identify them. Dark, short-cropped hair. Shadowed eyes that seemed intense at best—and entirely mad at worst. Strong shoulders. Angular jaw. Taller than her, but not colossally so. Not like Mike, at least, who towered over her.

The figure was muttering something under their breath. She caught the edge of a few words. Matter. Video. If. Ice.

Jess caught her breath. It didn't make sense. None of this made sense, of course, but this… this really didn't make sense? How could he be down here? Why would he be down here, alone and clearly losing it? Maybe it was all in her head. "Josh?" she croaked, the lantern rattling in her hand.

He stilled, slowly turning his head to look at her.

Dots of black were dancing across her vision, like the shadows of the mine were creeping over her, stealing what little comfort the lantern gave her. There was a dull roaring in her ears. "Do you—" she asked Josh faintly, reaching out blindly with her free hand for something to use for support. Hadn't there been a pole or something a second ago? This mine was playing all kinds of stupid fucking tricks on her. The sound was growing louder, pressing in in her. It seemed almost familiar. "Do you hear the ocean, Josh?"

Then everything went black completely.