This is my second Star Trek fic, but it's reboot style, using the reboot characters. So yeah. Critique is greatly appreciated. Also, if I've said something that doesn't make any sense, please let me know. I know it's short, but there's another chapter coming up. I'm mostly concerned about the canon-inity of the characters. I do not have a beta (quite obviously *blush*), so if you would be interested, please let me know.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

'If God sends us on strong paths, we are provided strong shoes.' -Corrie Tenboom


It was cold. The kind of cold that ate into your bones and made you ache all over. Twice he'd been marooned on some snowy death trap of a planetwhy was he surprised? Things like this happened to him all the time.

'I hate you,' McCoy, who sat a few feet away with his knees tucked to his chest, warmly informed him.

Jim let out a long breath and rolled his eyes. 'I get it,' he said, 'you're mad.'

'Mad?' McCoy repeated, huffing. 'I'm livid, damn it!'

'Well fine, then, be livid, but don't be livid at me.'

'Why the hell not?'

'Because for once, this actually isn't my fault.'

'As far as I'm concerned, everything is your fault.'

Jim snorted in disbelief. 'You think I like the things that happen to me? You think I like being stranded on a snowy, frigid planet, a second time?'

At least, from what he could tell so far, there weren't any dangerous, giant creatures waiting for them in the snowdrifts. Not like on that planet Spock had jettisoned him to. Then again, there was also no Spock Prime or Scotty on this planet. Jim swore inwardly.

'You're a magnet for trouble,' McCoy mumbled softly. He got up and dusted himself off; making sure his coat was zipped tight. 'All right, let's get this death march over with.'

The trek uphill was mostly quiet; McCoys complaining, and the soft chirp of his comm. Badge every once in a while kept him company. Otherwise, the only other sounds were of their boots crunching through the snow and the wind whistling past their ears.

'Any luck?' McCoy asked hopefully from behind.

'No,' Jim answered, stumbling. 'We need to get to higher ground. If we can get high enough, we should be able to get a signal out.'

'How the hell did you survive the first time around?' He meted out a quick, hoarse breath; and maybe he was chuckling, Jim wasn't sure.

'Truthfully?' He said aloud, his eyebrows high in belief, 'I have no idea. Just lucky, I guess.'

'"Just lucky".' McCoy shook his head.

'Let's keep moving.'

* * *

He knew there was only a certain amount of time they could spend out in the elements before they were in serious danger, but he didn't see any alternative but to keep going. There were no trees, no rocks, no hangover cliffs; he couldn't even spot any caves in the distance. Worry began to wriggle its slimy self into the back of his head. Looking back, he watched McCoy struggling to pry his feet from a pile of deep snow; Jim decided that he was right. He put his friend through a lot, all his hijinx at the academy, his crazy adventures. For every year he aged, McCoy used to say, he would age two. Jim grinned.

'How're you doing?' He called back.

'I'm freezing to death,' McCoy responded hotly. 'What about you?'

'Same.' Though neither one had said anything, Jims sitting down signified a break.

'You look flushed,' McCoy scowled, moving over to him. 'You hot?'

'Not really.'

'How about sweaty? You sweaty?'

Jim groaned and batted him away with his arm. 'Bones, get out of my face!'

'This is serious, Jim,' he barked. 'We're both sitting ducks out here, just waiting for hypothermia to creep up on us. You start to sweat, you can't cool down; your body's going to respond by producing more sweat. Keep sweating, you're gunna get drenched. That sweat's gunna freeze the second you stop. Now I'll ask you again, are you sweaty?'

'A little,' Jim admitted, sounding like a child who had just been scolded.

'Take your undershirt off.'

'What?' He yelped. 'Are you crazy? I'll freeze!'

'Not any faster than you'll freeze if you don't get rid of that sweaty shirt, you won't,' he mentioned grimly.

Jim begrudgingly complied, pulling his arms into his coat. It took a while, but he managed to shed his undershirt and toss it into the snow, grumbling.

A few minutes and two medical lectures later, they were moving again. Unlike the planet Jim had been on the first time, visibility here was easy; not that there was much to see. In most areas the snow was sturdy enough for them to walk on top of without worry, in other places they sunk to their knees. At McCoy's request they stopped every few feet and took a break, while he would assess their conditions and curse a blue streak.

'You think the Enterprise is looking for us?' He asked, a beat of silence passing between them.

Jim whirled around, cheeks glowing bright red. His eyes were wild with exhaustion. 'Of course they're looking for us.' He paused, his brows knitting together. 'Why wouldn't they be looking for us?'

McCoy's jaw jutted out in an aggressive angle. 'Nothing, never mind. Let's keep moving.'

'Bones, you all right?'

'Yeah, fine,' He answered briskly, rubbing at his arms.

'Bullshit,' He huffed. 'You're a terrible liar.'

'No worse than you,' He quipped back.

'Bones,' Jim said more sternly, stopping him with a hand gently placed on his shoulder. They stood there, shivering and looking into each other's faces. McCoy hit him with pale blue eyes and Jims stomach did a back flip. 'We can take another break.'

McCoy sighed and dropped his head. 'I'm fine, Jim. Really.'

Jim hesitated, searching his friend's eyes. When he was satisfied with what he found, he nodded and released him, continuing on. Clearing another few feet, Jim turned. McCoy was being more quiet than usual, not even cursing or mumbling. That troubled him more than their current situation.

'Hey, Bones,' He said, forcing a cheerful voice. 'You ever think we spend too much time together?'

'Oh, shut up.'

'What?' Jim said innocently, relieved to see McCoy raise his eyebrow and roll his eyes. 'You're not enjoying yourself?'

Before McCoy could return fire, Jim suddenly bent over and emptied the contents of his stomach into a mound of snow. He grimaced, feeling a hand on his back, and stared at the string of saliva dangling from his lips. He spit.

'You okay?'

He spit again, and gave a thumbs up. 'Fantastic.'

'Jim,' He said gravely, 'we have to get out of this weather, and soon.'

'Yeah,' Jim said solemnly. 'I know. Where's Spock when you need 'em?'