Summary: It is winter and five year-old Emil decides to go skiing!
Warnings: Character death, water, broken bones, crying, children.
Cold, everything was cold. It hit Emil like a sledgehammer and he dropped his ski poles, flailed in the water to get back through the hole. He couldn't reach it, his ski stuck between two rocks at the bottom of the river. He flailed again, his lungs were burning, he needed air. Water rushed through his mouth when he could no longer wait. Freezing water made its way into his lungs, his limbs. His clothes were heavy, didn't aid him and he couldn't keep struggling, couldn't go on.
Darkness engulfed Emil, he could barely feel the hands pulling at him, trying to drag him out of the water. Voices, words his brain couldn't register. His mother's warning was playing in the back of his mind, more and more quiet with each passing second.
"Make sure you ski away from the river."
Excitement had made him forget it and how he had to pay for it. He could no longer move his fingers, couldn't move his arms. Water kept filling his lungs and then he was on the ice, people surrounded him, stared at him, pulled at his clothes. Hands pressed against his chest, pressed, pressed, pressed. Too strong, too hard and his young bones were brittle, breaking. Sharp edges pressing against his lungs, tearing at them, but he couldn't feel it, couldn't feel anything.
Voices, crying. Children asking what was happening, curious, never before had they witnessed what was happening and then that final phrase.
"It's too late, it's over."
"It's not, it can't be!"
Hands still pressing at him, lips pressing against his, trying to fill his lungs with air, tried to get him to breathe again.
"He won't..."
The sentence broken. Torbjörn hugged Emil's tiny body against his chest, cried, but Emil couldn't comfort him, couldn't move, couldn't breathe, didn't need to breathe.
It was over.