-1[I] Author's Note: In all actuality Barrow, Alaska is the northern most town in the United States, with a population of around 4,000. However, for the sake of fiction I have created a town slightly smaller than Barrow, located a bit further north, and in desperate need of people…especially of the female variety…named Northern, Alaska. Yeah, not very creative, but there is a reason for that! Also, there are some cliché aspects to this story that shall be poked fun of by characters within the context of the story. I hope you enjoy my newest AU fic. All reviews are welcome, as long as they are not flamers. In which case you will be dowsed and flamed back. [/I]
Prologue
Northern, Alaska
July 5th
A warm breeze teased Richard Webber as he stepped off the front porch of the one room cabin he called home. Gingerly he made his way along the rutted dirt road that ran through the middle of town. A man had to be careful walking that road, if he wasn't he was liable to twist an ankle or worse. Having experienced the 'or worse' once before, Richard made a point of keeping track of each and every rut, and watching out for new ones. One winter spent on Ole Joe's couch due to a broken leg, listening to the big jovial man snore, had been enough for him.
Sighing, the older man bound up the front steps of Ole Joe's Pub and Grill. It was the only place a man could get a decent meal that as well as whatever alcohol Ole Joe had managed to have flown in. The little chalkboard sign outside the door proclaimed Elk Steak and Tequila as the items of the day. The steak would be alright, but tequila wasn't really Richard's poison.
"Hey Webber, how's leg?" Ole Joe guffawed from behind his counter once Richard had entered the rather dark tavern. There weren't any windows, and the antler chandelier over head offered little in the way of light. It suited the men of Northern though. They didn't need drafty windows or bright lights to enjoy their meat and liquor; which were the only two reasons to come to Ole Joe's.
"Leg's good. Bit stiff, but good." Richard eased himself onto the stool he had come to think of as his. Two stools down sat a dark haired fellow he only knew as O'Malley. He was a quiet kid, kept mostly to himself. From what Richard knew the younger man worked as a mechanic for Mark Sloan and Derek Shepherd. "I'll have me one of those Elk steaks and a cup of coffee if you have it."
"No coffee. Not yet. It's coming in on Derek's next run." Ole Joe shrugged. The lack of coffee wasn't too surprising, it was a luxury for them; almost impossible to obtain during the winter months.
"Just the steak then," Richard sighed. He crossed his arms and leaned them on the sticky, scarred, wooden bar. "Maybe a glass of water."
"Hey, Walter, need one of them steaks, throw a potato on the side, and a glass of water." Ole Joe yelled to the back. The unseen Walter grunted back a reply. A moment later a re-heated steak, paired with a wrinkled up small potato, and a glass of murky water appeared. "There ya go."
Richard murmured his thanks before starting in on the gamey tasting meat. He wasn't too fond of caribou but it beat anything he could come up with at home. Cooking wasn't something Richard would consider himself good at, he could get by fair enough on the days it was too cold to venture out or the days he couldn't stomach Joe's brand of cooking. 'Be nice to get a real restaurant in,' he mused silently. The chances of that were slim to none. Real cooks did not set up eateries in little holes in the wall where it dropped down to negative sixty in the winter.
"Hey, Joe, got your order!" a dark shadow yelled from the doorway. Richard didn't have to see his face to know it was Derek Shepherd. He had spent many a weekend fly fishing with the younger man. It was clear that Derek was well educated, but why he had chosen Northern, Alaska as the place to plant his roots nobody knew. It had something to do with his best friend Mark, but outside that his arrival and decision to stay was a mystery. "Want it now or later?"
"Now, my boy, now." Ole Joe boomed. The man was no doubt anxious to have his coffee and liquor supply replenished. Richard couldn't blame him. The summer months were when they all made their money. If they didn't bring in enough before winter struck they were just shit out of luck, unless a neighbor had stock piled enough supplies that they could share
Richard had faced one winter, two years back, where he would have most likely starved if the game warden hadn't left little bundles on his back steps. It was bit laughable that he, Richard Webber, would have to rely on the kindness of a twenty-three year old kid who rode around on a four wheeler during the spring and summer, and a snow mobile in the winter, for food. It was nothing against Alex Karev, he appreciated what the kid had done for him, it was just embarrassing that he had gone from the town's main source of income to the old man who lived on the outskirts of town and couldn't feed himself. There had been a time, over ten years now, when he would have been the one offering 'help' to some one in need, but those days were gone. He couldn't afford to maintain the hunting cabins that lined the edge of his land, nor could he afford the amount of advertising it would take to get people to come. He was a has been with more land than he knew what to do with. Land rich in animals, but not black gold.
"Hey, Shep you mind if I catch a lift with you next time you fly into Anchorage?" Alex yelled out from some hidden corner Richard had over looked. He had a fondness for that kid that had nothing to do with food and everything to do with respect.
"Let me guess, you're needing to visit a certain somebody," another fellow at the back of the bar snickered. "Can't say as I blame you."
No, Richard couldn't either. There were only three women in the town; two of which were a couple and the third so cankerous nobody wanted to tangle with her. Alex, along with a few others, had a regular 'friend' he visited in Anchorage when weather allowed. From what Richard knew, the gal was more than willing to up and move to Northern, but for whatever reason Alex wouldn't allow it.
"You'll have to talk to Mark, he's making the next run." Derek yawned, toting in the last of five crates with Ole Joe written across the top. "Don't see why it would be a problem though. Might have to wait a day or so before coming back though."
"Nota problem," Alex snickered. Most likely those days would be spent between the legs of his friend or some other willing female.
"What we need is some women," the man next to Richard grumbled. "I'm sick of having to fly down south just to get a little action. It's not right, I tell you. Man isn't meant to be alone."
Silently, Richard agreed. Man wasn't meant to be alone, but Northern was as close to paradise as a man would get and none of them were up to leaving. Which meant they would have to get an influx of women. There was nothing to offer a woman in their God forsaken bit of the world; just a bunch of horny men in need of some major TLC.
"Thought about placing me an ad for one of them mail order brides." the man next to him continued. "Figured I could offer some foreign girl a home. That's all most of them girl's want, just a home."
Just a home. Hm. If that was all a woman really wanted Richard had plenty of them sitting on his land. An idea started to take root, and by the time he left for home he was whistling and feeling pretty proud of himself.
