A/N: I'd planned to have this chapter done three Thursdays ago (give or take a week), even told a few people that, but I remembered that I had tests coming up, and I have final exams coming up on December 5th too.

I'll update as fast as possible, but because of finals updates will be a bit slow.

Anyways, back to the story, as you can guess The Thing 1982 will be AU, and bits and pieces here and there will be in MacReady's POV, but it's still Kate and Sam centered.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Thing 2011 or The Thing 1982.


At some point during the night, Kate had pulled her arms out of the coat's sleeves, using it as a blanked while she turned to bury her face and hands against Sam's unnaturally warm chest. All thoughts of distrust towards Sam went out the window as the night grew colder, her main concern turning into staying warm at all costs. Her skin felt like ice, the tips of her ears hurt, she couldn't feel her nose, and unless she wiggled her toes she couldn't feel her feet. Whether or not Sam was doing any better was anyone's guess. The only indication she'd received that he was even conscious was when he removed his arms from her waist to allow her to change her position before putting them back around her. In fact, the only way she knew that he was still alive was too slow beating of his heart against her ear.

She wanted to ask if he was awake, but that part of her brain didn't seem to want to work. As it was she couldn't even open her eye. Tired, cold, and starving, she wasn't sure how much of this her body could take before giving out completely. At least it was daylight, or it seemed that way anyways. Through her closed eyes she could tell slightly that it was lightening outside. Of course it wouldn't matter if it were the middle of the night or mid-afternoon if no one found them soon. Winter had just started; it could only get colder.

The temperature in the Snowcat suddenly dropped. A violent shiver ran through her and she pressed herself closer to Sam, wondering why it suddenly became colder. Vaguely she swore she heard voices, but contributed it to being semi-conscious.

"…two people in here…" a voice said as it came into focus before it faded out again.

A second later she felt something warm on her neck. Fingers?

"She's got a pulse!" that same voice said.

Was she dreaming or something?

The Snowcat shook slightly as someone climbed inside, and she felt a pair of hands grab her by the shoulders and gingerly turn her over before pulling her from the vehicle. This was about the point where she came to realize that she wasn't dreaming.

Forcing her eyes to open, Kate looked up at a man with a nose ring as she was carried bridal style to a helicopter.

"You're gonna be all right, sweetheart," the man assured her over the roar of the chopper. "Garry, keep her warm."

With her throat extremely dry, she found that speaking was a challenge. "Sam?..."

"What?" the man asked. "Is Sam your friend in the Snowcat?"

She nodded slightly. "I-Is he o-okay?" she asked, teeth chattering.

"Don't worry about him. You concentrate on getting warm," he told her and she knew what he was really saying.

He didn't know if Sam was okay or not.

Of course she knew that he wasn't dead, but was he conscious or had he been forced into hibernation? If that was the case, would he wake up in minutes or hours? Would it take him a while to get back on his feet? There were too many questions going through her head and the headache came back.

The man placed her in the back seat of the helicopter while the man in the back pulled her in the rest of the way, bundling her in the coat the other man handed him and repeating that she was going to be okay.

She felt less than safe. What if he was really one of those Things?

Panicking, she tried to pull away even while her body screamed for warmth.

"Easy!" the man warned. "You're safe."

"Get away…" she mumbled, too cold to put up much of a struggle.

"Keep a hold of her, Garry," another man said as he reached the chopper. "I don't want her getting physical while we're in the air."

The man, Garry, grumbled some reply and tightened his grip on her, making her panic further.

Through her half open eyes, Kate saw the man who had told Garry to keep a hold of her had a rather large hat on and was helping the man with the nose ring put someone else in the back with her.

It wasn't long before Sam was put in the back next to her, and she pulled away from Larry and huddled against Sam's side, both for the unnatural warmth he put off but because he was familiar, someone she knew and understood – more or less. She noticed that he didn't say anything and didn't even move. In fact, he seemed to slump in her direction limply. Her mind went directly to hibernation. Had he gotten so cold that he'd been forced into it, or had he willing put his body into stasis? It seemed unlikely that he would be forced into it when he'd walked so far during the night back to Thule.

Climbing into the copilot's seat, the man with the nose ring said, "Take the shortest route back to the outpost, Mac."

Without replying, the man with the large hat, Mac, got in the pilot's seat and took the helicopter up.

Kate's mind raced. She hadn't expected to be found by the residents of the U.S. outpost. By all rights she and Sam shouldn't have been found for days or even weeks. What had drawn them away from the outpost?

Though she desperately tried to remain conscious, Kate's hearing started going and her vision became blurry, exhaustion and the cold finding its way past her small adrenaline boost and forcing her to fall asleep.


Winters in Antarctica were always relatively predictable, but this winter had taken a sharp turn that helicopter pilot R.J. MacReady hadn't been prepared for. Over the past two years since being the pilot for Outpost 31, he'd never had some crazy Norwegian show up, drop a grenade, blow up a helicopter, and shoot at a dog while shooting also shooting Bennings in the leg. That had been strange enough, but that was just the start of the craziness. What was truly strange was what they discovered at the Norwegian outpost.

Burned and still smoldering, the inside of the main building looked like a war zone. Walls were smashed through along with one ceiling, a man had slit his own wrists and throat, and something had been burned outside in the snow. He had no clue exactly what that Thing was, but It was the most bizarre Thing he'd ever seen. The Thing had had two heads that were attached, sharing one mouth and a severely deformed body with strange legs, and what looked like extra arms. And the smell had been horrendous. There was no doubt in his mind that It had been burned during the night. He had wanted to leave It at the destroyed outpost, but Copper insisted on taking It to examine so It was wrapped up and tied to the side of his chopper.

And then there were the two people stranded in the Snowcat.

Mac suspected that they had been a part of the Norwegian team, but he didn't know why they were so far away from the outpost. It looked as though they were heading to the U.S. outpost, but if that was the case and they had been with the Norwegians, why didn't they go in the helicopter with the crazy one? Maybe they were trying to get away, or maybe they hadn't been trying to get to Outpost 31. Mac was at a loss for answers, but at least the woman spoke English. From what little she mumbles, she sounded American, which only added to his confusion. It didn't make sense for an American woman to be there.

As for the guy, he was out like a light and didn't so much as twitch when he and Cooper dragged him to the chopper. He didn't seem to be doing as well as the woman, who had been conscious for at least a minute or two. It didn't seem logical that he'd be completely unconscious unless he'd hit his head or something.

Maybe the woman would fill in some blanks when she came to.

Walking down to a room where the survivors were being kept, he went to see just how long it would be before they could get some answers.

On two spare cots were the two survivors, wrapped up in in multiple blankets, each with one arm sticking out for an I.V. Mac noticed that the woman had some bruises on her exposed arm that made it look like she'd been thrown into some or had fallen. His eyes darted to her companion, but he doubted the guy had thrown her around. If that was the case he didn't suspect that she would have gotten into the Snowcat with him. No, those bruises had to have happened back at Thule.

Coming over to Copper, he asked, "How are they?"

The doctor glanced at him before sighing and indicating to the woman. "Well, there's no sign of frostbite. She was pretty well bundled in the Snowcat, but temperature is low, and she probably would've caught hypothermia by nightfall. Give her a few hours and she'll be up and about."

Mac nodded slowly. "And the guy?"

"Him I'm not too sure about. Come here," he said, walking over to the man. Holding up the arm with the I.V, Copper said, "Touch his arm."

Frowning, the pilot did so and looked up at Copper in mild disbelief.

"I know," Copper said in agreement, laying the man's arm back onto the bed. "He's been in that Snowcat for God knows how long in freezing temperatures, but while the woman's skin is icy cold, his is very warm to the touch."

"Fever?" Mac asked.

The doctor shook his head. "I can't tell."

Mac stared at him. "Doc, either his temperature is high or it isn't."

"His temperature is elevated," Copper replied, "But there are no signs of sickness, though his heart rate is oddly slow." Staring at the man, Copper sighed, "I can't tell you what's wrong with him."

It wasn't often that Copper became stumped. Then again, being in Antarctica he'd only had to deal with frostbite, colds, flus, cuts, and Norris's bad heart. He'd never had to deal with a situation like this here. Normally, they were well prepared.

"What were they doing out there, Mac?"

He stared at the two before his thoughts went to the clinic where that Thing was being kept. "I don't know. But I'll bet that Thing had something to do with them being far away from Thule."

"Blair said It had a normal set of organs, but I don't see how that's possible," Copper commented.

"Me neither." Running his hand over the back of his neck, he sighed. "If anything changes, let me know."

"Will do, Mac."

Leaving the room, Mac shook his head. Garry should be the one asking questions about the survivors and that Thing, not him. Garry was the guy in charge, and Mac was just the pilot with a habit of getting drunk regularly. And yet people opted to listen to Mac much more that they did Garry. Personally, Mac thought that while Garry was a good guy he couldn't keep control of things. It was a flaw the man in his position didn't need.

This wasn't what Mac signed up for. Being the pilot, all he was supposed to deal with was flying the other men at the outpost around when they needed to get somewhere. That was it.

Running his hand through his hair, scratching the back of his neck, he made his way to the rec room to see what everyone was up to before he went after a beer and headed back to his shack where he could be alone to get drunk with some stronger alcohol and sleep.

Halfway to the rec room, the dog that the Norwegian had been shooting at stepped into the hall, and upon seeing Mac it stopped and stared.

After a few seconds of staring, the animal past him and headed for the room the woman and man were being kept in.

"Hey, I don't think so, pal," he called to the dog, bringing it to a stop, and he walked over to it. Taking the dog by the collar, he pulled it back down the hall and away from the two. "Let's let 'em sleep."

He was almost sure he heard the dog growl but it seemed to get the hint and walked back into the rec room. Mac would be lying if he said there wasn't something strange about the dog. First a crazy Norwegian, some fucked up looking Thing, two half frozen people, and now a freakish dog. Could this winter get stranger?

Muttering an oath to find another job, he peered into the rec room where Nauls and Clark were playing pool, and Norris, Garry, and Bennings were playing some card game. Off to the side, Windows was reading a magazine. For a second, Mac was half tempted to join in on the card game, but then he remembered that he had a date with some alcohol and his shack.

"Gah!" Bennings shouted, making everyone start, and Mac stepped inside to see what the problem was.

Looking under the table, Bennings shot an angry look over at Clark when he sat back up. "Clark, will you put this mutt with the others where he belongs?"

Clark put some chalk on his pool stick before nodding. "Yeah, okay." Finding the dog already at the door, he put down the stick and walked over to it, waving it along and it followed obediently without protest, whereas it had growled – maybe – at Mac.

After Clark had lead the animal out of the room, Bennings turned toward Mac, setting his cards down. "Did the doc check and see if that dog was sick?" he asked.

The pilot shrugged and replied, "I'd guess that he did. Why?"

"That damn dog stares off into space more than Palmer does, that's why," he explained. "Maybe it's sick and that's why the guy was shooting at it."

"Why are you asking me?" Mac questioned, then pointed at Garry. "He's in charge. Ask him."

Expectantly, everyone in the room looked to Garry, who in turn shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

Finding his voice, Garry said, "I'll ask the doc to run some tests on the dog, but I don't know what he can do. He's a doctor, not a vet."

"Why not ask Blair to check it out?" offered Nauls. "He's a biologist – gotta know somethin' about dogs."

When Garry said nothing, Mac groaned. "I'll ask him to look at the damn dog later, all right?"

A second passed before everyone nodded.

All desire to even consider playing a game of cards, or even to be in the same room with the guys, left him and he was reminded of why he spent most of his time in his shack. Leaving before he could be asked anymore questions, Mac walked down to the kitchen to find something to drink that would hold him over until he got to his shack. He didn't need much, even some water would do, but if there was a cold beer in the fridge he wouldn't pass it up.


Kate was groggy to say the least. Her head wasn't throbbing as bad as it had been earlier, but she felt as though she had only slept an hour before being forced away, making her a little dizzy and her vision blurry. It wasn't very pleasant. But at least she was finally warm.

Looking at the IV in her arm, she sighed and peeled off the tape before pulling the needle out. The doctor hadn't said that she could remove it, but she didn't feel like she needed it. She pressed her thumb to the tiny wound and slowly sat up, fighting against the dizziness.

The last thing she could remember was the American's loading her and Sam into the chopper.

Sam!

Casting her eyes around the room, her gaze finally landed on Sam, lying on another cot.

Carefully, she got to her feet only to stumble and fall forward, her legs stiff and half asleep. Had she not held out her hands to grasp the side of the cot, she would have either landed on him or on her face. Lowering herself to her knees next to the cot to avoid falling, she shook Sam but he didn't so much as twitch. She had no clue whether or not that was normal or not, because Sam himself was not normal, at least not in human terms. Maybe his kind stayed in hibernation for varied amounts of time. How long had he been out anyways? How long had she been out?

Running her hand through her hair, she cringed when she came across knots. She really needed a shower. As soon as she saw someone, she'd see if she could at least take a shower, even if it was a short one.

Where was everybody anyways? Considering it was late, it was possible that everyone was asleep or minding their own business.

Deciding that remaining cooped up in the room with her unconscious "friend" wasn't a good way to spend her time, she carefully got to her feet, relieved to find that some of the feeling was back in her legs, and wandered out of the room.

The U.S outpost looked similar to Thule with only a few differences, one of which being where each room was located. Wrapping the blanket she'd taken from the room tighter around her shoulders, she walked down the hall, searching for any sign of life as dread began to pour into her system. What if those Things had already reached the outpost? It was a terrifying thought and she found her pace slowing as she began peering around corners cautiously before continuing. She couldn't be too careful.

Just as she was about to step into a room, she heard footsteps farther down the hallway and swallowed. Against her better judgment, she went to investigate. It probably wasn't the smartest move on her part. She could hardly walk at the moment, much less run if she had to.

More than a little frightened of what she might find as she neared what looked like a kitchen, she looked around for something – anything – she could use as a weapon, and came across a box cutter. The tiny blade wouldn't do much, if anything, to one of those Things if that was what was in there, but it was all she had at the current moment.

Kate reached to doorway of the kitchen and cautiously inched inside, holding the box cutter tightly. The refrigerator door was open and she heard someone rummaging around in it, which gave her pause. Would one of those Things dig around in a refrigerator if no one was around to see it acting human? What would be the point of acting human?

The long haired man shut the fridge, beer in hand, and was about to open it when he realized that he wasn't the only one in there. Turning his attention to her, he looked stunned that she was up and walking, but then he tensed, noticing the box cutter.

"Guess I'd be jumpy too if I was in your shoes," he commented slowly so as not to spook her.

Kate realized that he was the pilot of the helicopter that found her and Sam. He sounded human enough. But so did Sam.

Eyes staying on her, he sidestepped to a few chairs and grabbed the backrest, slowly pushing it towards her. "Why don't you sit down before you fall down?"

Swallowing, flexing her fingers around the box cutter, she slowly lowered the blade and walked over, taking a seat.

The man held out his hand. "Can I have that back?" he asked.

She looked down at her only source of protection and reluctantly handed it over. What good would it have done her anyways?

Retracting the blade, he tucked it into his pants pocket and turned to one of the cabinets. He took out a glass and filled it with some water. Moving back over to her, he held it out to her. "MacReady – Mac."

Sipping the water, she replied, "Kate Lloyd." Taking another longer drink, she sighed, her dry throat feeling better.

"You're buddy awake?"

She shook her head. "Not yet."

Pulling his own chair over, Mac took a seat. "How long were you out there? In the Snowcat?"

"Um…" Thinking back, she realized she didn't know. "What day is it?"

When he told her, her eyes widened in disbelief. "Less than twenty-four hours."

"Really?" Mac asked, equally surprised. "You're lucky you weren't out there longer."

She nodded. It was a miracle. But why had they been out that far?

Before she could ask, she heard a faint, hellish scream. A sound Kate knew all too well.

Frowning, Mac darted to his feet and ran to the fire alarm, breaking the glass with his beer before pulling the alarm. "Wait here!" he ordered, running out of the room.

"No!" she shouted. "You don't know what you're up against!" Scrambling out of the chair, she ran as fast as her sore legs could carry her down the hall after him. "Get a flamethrower!"

He looked over his shoulder at her. "Why? You know what's in there?"

"Just trust me and get a fucking flamethrower!"

"Fine," he replied. "Just stay put!"

Kate stopped, slouching against the wall, unsure of what to do next as men flooded the hall complaining about the noise.

"What is this?" demanded one of the men, stumbling of his room. "What's goin' on?"

Another looked to another man who looked like he just woke up. "Hey, Palmer, what is this?"

Palmer shook his head. "I don't know."

Amidst the confusion, one of the men spotted her. "Guys, isn't that one of those survivors Mac and the others found?"

All eyes turned to her and she gulped.

"You know what's going on here?" the same man asked, walking towards her.

She did, but she wasn't sure how to explain it with all the confusion going on. Telling them up front that an alien was at the outpost might not be the best way to go about it. But she couldn't lie about it and then expect them to even remotely believe her later.

Luckily, a man with a nose ring – the man from the helicopter – came out of his room, pulling on a pair of pants as he saw her. "Back off, Palmer," he snapped at the man coming at her, and gently but firmly took her arm and lead her back to the room she woke up in. "I want you to stay in the room 'till we get this all sorted out, you hear?"

She nodded, but said, "Please, make sure Mac has a flamethrower. It's the only way to kill It!"

Urging her to sit on the cot, the man stared at her. "You tellin' me you know what's out in those kennels?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted.

"Copper, hurry up!"

Gritting his teeth, Copper repeated, "Stay here!" He then ran out to the kennels with the other men.

Knowing the men didn't understand what exactly was out there, she went to Sam's side and shook him. "Damn it, Sam, wake up!" she shouted to no avail.

What the hell would it take to snap him out of it? Thinking back to all that he'd told her, she tried to find a clue but came up with nothing helpful. She sure as hell didn't want to sit and wait, so she went over the events leading up to the Things breaking through the chunk of ice. One thing that stood out was when Sander had them take a tissue sample by drilling into the ice and Things inside. Maybe the pain caused Them to come out of hibernation. It was worth a shot.

Pulling her hand back, Kate slapped Sam as hard as she could across his face. Once. Twice. The third time she hit him, leaving both his cheek and her hand bright pink, she noticed his breathing start to increase and took it as a sign she was doing something right.

"Come on, wake up," she hissed under her breath, hitting him again, this time with her closed fist, causing his nose to bleed.

Out of nowhere his eyes snapped open and he started to convulse, for lack of a better word. He couldn't stop thrashing and he swung his arm, hitting her in the chest and knocking back to the wall. Utterly confused, she stared at him in horror as she noticed the fingers of his right hand start to elongate. Then she remembered that the Things had reacted with hostility the moment They broke free of the ice, attacking the dog in the kennel as well as other to the point where it risked exposing Themselves.

Sam was reacting to a perceived threat out of self-defense, mutating back to whatever he originally looked like.

Fighting her own fear, Kate scrambled back to his side in a desperate attempt to calm him down.

Putting one hand on his chest and grabbing his jaw with her other hand she said, "Sam, it's all right! You're safe!" He didn't appear to hear her so she forced him to look at her, trying not to panic when his hand with the elongated fingers tried to grab her by the throat. "It's me, Kate! Sam, you're okay! Please, it's Kate!"

His eyes settled on her face, full of his own panic and confusion. To her relief, however, at last there seemed to be at least an ounce of recognition and his mutated hand moved away from her neck while his other, still normal hand, grasped her arm painfully. But he didn't seemed to be intentionally trying to hurt her with his grip, but rather he was trying to anchor himself and keep from mutating further.

"That's it," she praised, speaking to him as she would a frightened child. "You're okay, Sam."

After what felt like hours but couldn't have been more than a few seconds, Sam finally stopped convulsing and his breathing had slowed a bit. He still kept a tight grip on her arm to the point where her hand was tingling from the blood supply being cut off, but at least he was calming down.

Hair falling in her face, she stared at him. "You all right now?"

Gulping in some more air, Sam nodded. "Yeah," he bit out. Noticing her hand changing colors on his chest, he released her arm. "I'm sorry."

She just shook her head. "I'm just happy you didn't strangle me."

"Where are we?" he asked, forcing himself to sit up, frowning at his mutated hand.

"The U.S outpost," she replied, helping him to his feet. "We've gotta get to the kennels. The rest of the Things are already here."

Almost instantly Sam's wits returned and he was walking perfectly. It was as if he had just taken a short nap. "Stay put," he ordered as he went to the door.

She was sick and tired of hearing that. "No, I'm coming with you. And cover your hand up," she said, tossing him a blanket.

Mutter an oath about her not listening, he wrapped up his hand and took off down the hall with her struggling to keep up, following the screaming of the Thing in the kennels.

As they drew closer they could hear gunfire and Kate knew full well that shooting the Things would only piss Them off. Silence followed bug not a minute later they both smelled smoke and she took it as a sign that at least someone had listened to her and retrieved a flamethrower. By the time they actually reached the kennels, the chaos had died down, the fire putting out by extinguishers.

All the men in the room just stood there, completely stunned and at the moment oblivious to Kate and Sam's presence.

Kate made a step near the men, but Sam grabbed her shoulder with his normal hand, keeping her back with him. Having grown to somewhat trust his judgment, she stayed by his side.

But the action drew the attention of the others in the kennel and suddenly all eyes were on them.

Gripping his shotgun, MacReady stepped towards them, eying Kate angrily. "You'd better give us some answers. Now."

And she would give them answers, but whether or not they believed her was a different story.


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