Disclaimer: Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise!

Author's note! I hope you enjoy, please read and review! And THANK YOU for all the great reviews and comments on here and on the forum for my first six chapters! Rianne x

Frozen Fires.

By Rianne.

Chapter Seven.

Crossing the floor Ingrid lifted her heavy peach skirts as she climbed up onto her sisters' bed. She tucked a strand of her blond hair back from her face, as the tired mattress groaned with the extra weight and she could not hold back her smile as Greta stirred.

"Wake up," Ingrid whispered, leaning over she reached out to gently shake each shoulder. "Wake up, there is a surprise outside."

The five little heads began to shift, grumbling softly having been woken just as they were falling into the deepest sleep.

"Come on!" Ingrid whispered louder. She bounced on the bed, once, hard causing Greta to sleepily return her smile. All the girls were opening their eyes now and blinking in confusion in the dim light.

Ingrid, the most excited of the six, jumped back up and began pulling the girls coats out of a hamper and throwing them onto the bed creating a pile of garments on top of the reluctant sleepers.

"Boots, coats, come on!" She said in a voice just louder than her regular one, the excitement bubbling through.

"Come on, come on!" She said her voice adopting a singsong tone, as she yanked back the blankets and began to push a pair of boots onto the nearest pair of feet.

Greta, caught up in the excitement of being allowed out of bed after bedtime, was hurriedly stamping her feet into her own boots. Her favourite thing in the world was a surprise and in her hurry she had managed to pull on her boots all by herself, but just the wrong boot for the wrong foot and she began waddling around her sisters giggling when she realised, before Ingrid halted her chaos causing to switch them right.

The excited squealing Swedish chatter of the girls as they tumbled out of the tent and into the snow brought Matthew out of his thoughts.

He watched as the quart rushed out into the winter wonderland, their faces a picture. They joined hands in a circle and danced around and around and around, the wafting bottoms of their nightdresses hanging below their heavy winter coats, blurring them into the snow like imps or fairies, as with bright eyes they stuck out their tongues to catch snowflakes. But even their sweetness could not lighten the heaviness in his chest.

"Matthew?" Ingrid touched his shoulder, sensing his quiet brooding. "What is wrong?"

Matthew looked down at his gloves before he answered, picking at a loose thread on the thumb. He couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye.

"What is it?"

He sighed. "I did something." He shifted uncomfortably, dragging out the moment when he would have to admit to it. With an even heavier sigh he continued, "I wasn't supposed to leave Colleen and Brian tonight. I promised Dr. Mike that I would stay with them today, that I wouldn't… and I…" His voice trailed off as he focused on nothing in particular in the distance.

"Matthew!" He could see Ingrid's look of shocked disappointment without seeing her face. Just knowing that he had done something wrong, yet again, and to know that she must surely be thinking badly of him, made it all the more painful.

He shrugged away from her touch, so ashamed that he could not even bare her gentle affection. He did not deserve it.

"But you did not say that you had to get back in a hurry. You said you had time, that you would stay for some supper." Ingrid said with slow disbelief.

"I know!" Matthew shouted, much louder than he had expected too and the dancing sprites all stopped to peer in his direction.

Ingrid took his arm and led him further away from her sisters to a more conspicuous distance.

"I have to go to them now." He stated, pulling on his determined face at the same time as pulling his arm from her grasp.

"No!" Ingrid's response surprised him. "You cannot go, the storm is too bad to go so far."

"They are my responsibility, I have to go back, I shouldn't have left them on their own in the first place." Matthew attested.

"You will not make it. You cannot go all the way out there in this weather." Ingrid's voice grew more desperate. "I am sure that Colleen and Brian will be alright. They will be playing in the snow, or sitting by the fire. Colleen is good with Brian, she will look after him."

"I should be looking after him!"

He saw Ingrid flinch at the acid tone in his voice. He knew what she was thinking - that he was neglecting his responsibilities to be with her, and always selfless in her behaviour towards those she loved she would be feeling guilty, that her evening with him was at the possible expense of the safety of his brother and sister - and that only made him feel worse.

He reached for her, desperate to regain the closeness and affection from earlier, but she remained guarded in his arms, tense almost, only allowing him to hold her close for a moment as he whispered, "I'm sorry," against her hair, before she slipped away from him.

"Ingrid!"

The shout of the eldest of her sisters pierced the air.

Both heads spun away from their own problems, searching out the source. The girls were all huddled around something on the ground. Panic raced through Ingrid as they both started to run toward the group, their feet slipping and sliding on the soft ground.

Once they reached the little gathering, Ingrid reached out and pulled them apart, falling to her knees at the sight of little Greta lying in the snow, the whole of her tiny body shaking as she desperately fought for her breath. The excitement had gotten too much for her.

"Greta, Greta baby," Ingrid lifted her, raising her little arms up, imitating the way in which Dr. Mike had helped her to relax when she had had attacks herself. Poor Greta just looked pleadingly at her, as she tried harder and harder to breath, her lips turning from pink to a dangerous shade of blue.

"Matthew, her asthma!" Ingrid's own pleading eyes turned towards the only person she could count on to help her.

He had to put his fears about his siblings aside; had to put his selfish worries aside. He lifted Greta's limp body from Ingrid's arms.

"We'll take her to town! There will be plenty of Dr. Mike's medicine at the clinic to help her." He said, immediately taking charge of proceedings. It was a great distraction, taking his mind of Brian and Colleen and giving Ingrid the freedom to fuss over Greta at the same time, and it gave him the chance to prove he could be truly useful to someone.

Asking the sky for forgiveness he set off carefully forcing his way through the snowy ground cover towards town with the precious weight in his arms. Ingrid followed, hurrying her other sisters as they skidded along, with worried little faces. There had to be someone in town who could help them. For he felt like he was coming up short once again.

0000000000

"Michaelllllllllaaaaaa!"

The pain and terror in his voice echoed across the plains of snow.

The arms he had held out to catch her had been just too far away. The weight of her coat as it had lifted upon her landing had sent her slightly off course.

He had been unable to do anything but watch as she came crashing down, her eyes so full of hope, had been burning into his just moments before and then she had been gone.

He had been so sure she would make it, he had convinced her to do it and she had trusted him completely.

And then he had done nothing but stare in horror as she had gone completely under, surfaced again momentarily, her face frozen in a terrible scream and then he was running before he even registered it, falling to the ground and sliding to a halt just metres from the second gaping hole she had created.

A violent splutter burst forth, showering him with icy spray as she flailed, barely breaking the surface of the water.

Crawling forward on his belly he moved closer and closer. His breathing harsh and heavy. Desperate, but knowing that he could not fall through the ice himself or they would never make it.

He was still on the bank where he lay, the faint realisation of just how close she had come to almost making it flashed through his mind as he leaned over the hole, plunging his arms into the freezing reservoir below.

Under the thick water he felt her weakly flailing arm brush against his hands, the water temperature sending numbing pain racing up through his fingers. He tried to capture her arm but she moved too quickly, it was too slippery and then she was gone again.

He fished for her for only a few more seconds before he took the deepest breath and plunged his entire upper body into the hole.

In moments he was crashing back through the ice his arms banded tightly around her tiny waist. Throwing back his hair in a shower of sleet, as the sodden strands of it half froze meeting the temperatures in the air around them.

Keeping his hold on Michaela he dragged her unconscious body inch my inch out of the water and fell back away from the hole gasping with the effort, her soaking weight a pressure on his chest.

She was not breathing. Rolling her onto her back beside him he tilted her neck back and drew a shuddering breath as he felt panic and wracking spasms from the cold set in.

Bending at the waist he lowered his mouth to hers. Breathing what little warm breath he had into her, feeling her lips, blue like the ice against him.

Nothing happened.

He took another shaky breath, tried again. Pushing the air out of his burning lungs in a rush.

Still nothing.

He ripped back her coat, pressing his ear against her breast; he could feel the slow, but faint beat of her heart against his cheek. Gathering her body to his chest, cradling her close, he pressed his forehead to hers for a moment, feeling just how cold the skin was, as he panted trying to collect enough air to begin again.

Held in his arms she shook once, violently and he quickly lowered her back to the ground gently, looking down at her in desperate confusion as her body suddenly surged upwards, a stream of water came pouring and gurgling out of her mouth, as she gasped a rasping breath and her eyes flew open wide in shock and terror. Then she slumped back against the snow, her heavy eyelids drooping closed again. He leaned down, his face millimetres from her lips, frantically checking that he could feel the light breeze of her breath, and that her chest still rose slightly with each effort.

She was alive, she was breathing, and he could not even begin to comprehend all the emotions that burst through him.

He drew her soaking coat back up over her chest, his fingers fumbling with the buttons through his gloves in his relief and then he shrugged off his own partially sodden coat. Draping it over her, tucking it in under and around her body. Fighting the painful chill that rushed over him, the animal skin garment and thin shirt her wore were no barrier against the unforgiving pelting of snowflakes. He did not matter right now.

He made one last dip down over her to check she was still breathing, although he was reluctant to leave her he knew he had to. He stood and taking his branch used it to lean on as he forced himself across the distance that separated him from the opening in the side of the rise that Michaela had seen; that to him now seemed like forever ago. He had to battle to remain standing upright against the more powerful wind that drove across this exposed area of higher ground.

All that mattered was getting her to a safe shelter. He could not yet guarantee that what she had seen would be such a place. Could not risk carrying her all this way if it was not to be their salvation.

Getting closer Sully saw that it was a small alcove, which was far enough back into the rise to be protected from the winds that blew, but the depth of it was unfathomable, he could not see into the farthest reaches.

With a final concerned glance towards Michaela, who he could just make out in the distance through the haze, he moved to the entrance. Crouching low he extended the branch into the cave and swung it widely. Just waiting for any kind of response. He knew that he could expect anything. This little cave would make the perfect hideaway for all kinds of wild beast. He shouted, a low growl, which echoed back at him, reverberating off the walls. Nothing. He made one last sweep with the branch and then he dropped it to the ground, finally satisfied that the cave contained no unwanted guests, and then he took off back to Michaela, staggering and stumbling in his urgency.

Reaching her fell into the snow beside her brushing away the snowflakes that had gathered across her face and was relieved to feel her stir in response to his touch.

He saw her mouth his name, deliriously, and he pressed his lips to her ear shouting, "I'm here, I'm sorry, I'm here," as he inched his hands under her body, gathering her close.

Then with a groaning heave he lifted her, knees bent and hurriedly began back to the alcove. Each weighted step more hazardous than the one before. His progress slow, but for her he would never stop trying.

He finally reached the entrance after what felt like an eternity, and dipping low he carried her a little way into the cave, gently laying her into a pile of dried leaves that must have blown in there in the autumn. As he lifted away his nose brushed the side of hers and she nuzzled against him, murmuring, her breath still slow and faint. Her body was trembling with shock from her prolonged exposure to the water. He drew his coat tighter around her.

The muscles of his upper arms burned with relief now that they were at once free of their burden, but there was no time to waste. Removing his tomahawk from his belt he returned outside, coming back quickly with his branch, bringing with it more wood that he had found around and about.

With one eye on his task and the other on Michaela he began frantically chipping away the wetter outer layers of the wood to reach the drier centre beneath, a pile of shavings and small firewood began to collect under his hands.

Drawing some of the leaves from beside Michaela he created a little mountain to be their pyre. Mindful that he did not want to smoke them out, or build it too close to the entrance so that it blew out with any gusts of wind.

Collecting a small pile of stones from around the cave he encircled his mountain, keeping one larger, harder stone aside. He then struck the hard stone sharply against the metal blade of his tomahawk, at first creating nothing but dust, but upon trying again and again he finally created a tiny spark.

The soft, dried leaves caught quickly, with Sully blowing them in encouragement. And soon a faint glow illuminated the damp gloom of the shelter, allowing him to see much more clearly, but not yet offering much in the way of heat.

He moved back over to Michaela, his own body beginning to tremble with the cold and with the knowledge of what they had just survived; which had begun to bear heavily down upon him. He knew that the worst was not over yet.

Michaela's lips were still a deep shade of purply-blue and the strands of her golden hair were half damp, half frozen. The leaves he had placed her into were clinging to the damp puddle that was forming beneath her. She simply could not stay in those soaking wet clothes. He needed to remove at least her outer layers of clothing.

Such a personal decision, he could not be sure that she would be happy with it. She certainly might not be comfortable with a man undressing her, even if it was a man she trusted. It was a medical decision and so she should be the one making it. She who would know the consequences, the possible sickness that could prevail from this kind of exposure.

He could not help but think that if it had not been for him and his distraction with her that she could have been the one deciding for herself. He should have seen this storm coming, should not have given in to her demands to keep going to the Reservation when he knew she was almost a wilderness novice. Although he found that he could not fault that it was in fact she who had spotted them this shelter after all.

He had no more time in which to dwell. He needed to make a decision.

Crouching down over her he removed his gloves before lifting his own slightly wet coat up just enough to manoeuvre his hands beneath it. The feel of the wet materials under his fingers was all it took to make the decision for him. He had to do this, she needed it, whether she would like it or not.

His hands had begun to tremble for an altogether different reason, and he could not draw his eyes away from the way that the new flames from the fire danced light across her innocent face.

Taking a calming breath he lifted his blanketing coat a little more as ever so slowly he began to undo the buttons that lay beneath.