The truth behind the door

"I am not going to apologize for that! It's time somebody set an end to this, I can't even bloody make you a cup of tea anymore without getting a nasty comment!" he yelled as he took his gear, storming out of the lab and running down the aisle.

"What are you talking about? You're not making any sense!" she had shouted back at him, following him to the door, where he came to a halt. With all his strength he pushed against it, trying to open it.

"Oh please, don't act as if you haven't noticed anything! It's not as if they are discreetly talking about us." He said, squashing himself out of the door through the small slit he managed to open. She followed him, almost slipping when she stepped on the snow.

"You mean the rumors about us being more than just friends?" she asked, raising one eyebrow. So she had heard about it, he thought. "Is that why you've been acting so strange lately?"

He looks away and doesn't answer, so she speaks on. "That's just nonsense! People have been thinking that ever since we became friends! Why do you suddenly care about that?" she asked with a raised voice.

Instead of answering, he dumped his gear kit hard on the ground so that it fell open. This time she didn't say anything either, waiting for him to calm down.

But he didn't. "They are not just talking anymore, they are laughing at me! Every time they see me with you, they are pointing their fingers at me!" he nagged.

"You're just being ridiculous! It's just the usual comments that people always have made, it's nothing different. They are just gossiping, they don't have a clue on what is going on. You know how it is… We do that too sometimes. And what does it matter anyway, just let them talk it's not as if they are right. We are best friends and if they think you're in love with me only because you're doing nice things like making me a cup of tea, it's their problem, because they just don't know what real friendship is then."

"But it does matter to me! I can't just ignore them anymore", he answered and kicked against his open gear kit so that his screwdriver and a few other items fell out.

"Why? We always did that, what is different now?" she asked and looked at him intently.

"Because now …they are right."

Last goodbyes are rarely planned, and even less often ever known. But who really thinks before every meeting with every person that this could be the last time they saw these people. If we did think like that, I think things would run very differently.

Would we really want to leave others we love with hurting words if we knew that this would always be the last memory of them? Screaming at each other, instead of talking about the good old times, laughing and crying together?

There would be fewer fights I guess. Less, but still a few. Some would try to make peace with their enemies, some would make their lives hard for one last time.

But would you remind your parents of all the mistakes they have made? Of all the times they have failed? If you didn't hate them, I guess you wouldn't if you knew you spent your last moment with them.

And one thing you wouldn't do either was to leave your best friend, your partner and mate, without any words at all, alone in the cold.

With so many words lingering on your tongue and yet, you couldn't bring yourself to say any of them out loud.

For how long has this been going on?

Why did you never tell me?

Do you really mean that?

It's alright. These are feelings and you can't do anything about it. It's not your fault.

We will always stay best friends. I don't know if we'll be more just yet, but we'll fix things. We always do.

You feel more like a friend too, but I don't know what this is I am feeling. I never really gave it a name, but maybe it is more?

Yes, you want to tell him so much. You want to assure him that you won't leave, that you'll always be there. He didn't need to worry; you both agreed once that this friendship would outlast death.

But what do you do?

You feel your heart pumping fiercely in your chest; air seems not to be enough every time you breathe in. You promised him to go out there with him as he hasn't been around the past couple of days. Things have been strange, but you've missed him and you wanted to know why he had been acting so weird lately. You demanded to know and now you wished you would have just shut up.

You weren't ready for his answer. You had no clue. The confession he just had made took your breath away and left you there unprepared and exposed. You rarely felt like this but whenever it happened, it was with strangers or people you didn't know well enough.

He had always been the exception. The person you could address when you were left clueless. And now you didn't know whom you should approach.

So you took a step back. And another. You turned around suddenly and the next thing you knew you were running inside, storming to your room and collapsing on your bed.

You didn't even say you were sorry. You didn't tell him it was alright.

Unaware and unsuspecting that this messed up moment would most likely be the last one, you stared outside the window as the snow began to move with the wind. Dancing around in circles, in harmony. You watched it with fascination as you slowly calmed down, ready to let go of the anxiety. You could think logically again, and step by step you planned on what to do next. While you took a warm, relaxing shower, you imagined your next encounter.

How you'd approach him, and how you'd apologize. You would talk and by the end of the night, the events of the day would most likely be forgotten. You could feel it in the air, it was time for something new.

Something you never really considered. For a split second you did, the moment when he told you he never kissed a girl. You were so eager to offer yourself to show him that there was nothing to worry about and that confused you. But then he didn't go into detail, changed the topic and left you with feelings that you decided to store away. And then to be honest, you never gave it a second thought, but now that you found the box you hid years ago, you opened it and it seemed to be so obvious.

All these comments people had made, these whispers that always had been there, seemed to have been true after all. Never would you have guessed that this common-people gossip would even contain a hint of the truth, but now you found yourself here, preparing for a conversation that should have happened under different circumstances, without yelling and without you disappearing.

You smiled as you got out of the shower, laughing at yourself as you checked your figure in the mirror. You put on clothes and then you took one last glance back at the window.

The winds had changed.

But not just figuratively speaking. Their strength seemed to have increased. The snow that had been dancing around in harmony 15 minutes ago was now tossed and flung through the air fiercely. The past few weeks, you've experienced every thinkable weather condition here, but you've never seen anything like this.

And there it was, this regretful feeling inside your stomach that wouldn't be there if you'd have acted as if every moment could be the last one. You wouldn't have run away from him. You would have stayed there with him, telling him all those unspoken words that were on your mind. You would have talked all night and eventually you would have ended up in his arms, kissing him for the very first time.

But none of that happened. He was out there, somewhere. All alone and in danger.

You stormed out of the room, shouting and screaming for help.

He was out there. And you should have been too.

Fitz POV

Silence. Sometimes it was calming, sometimes frightening. Fitz couldn't tell which one he felt now. Probably both. Although it was beautiful to see the snow glittering in the moonlight which was the only natural source of light during this time of the year, he felt more alone than ever.

Before he met Jemma, he had always considered the silence as quite pleasurable. There was no one to argue with and no one who could possibly distract you from your work.

But ever since this certain girl had crossed his paths, he enjoyed her presence. They worked better together, bouncing off ideas to one another, helping out when something seemed off with an experiment or device. He soon forgot about all those times where he visited the lab at night so he could be alone and brought along Jemma. And when they would be finished for the day, they would head off to the boiler room or one of their dorms. It seemed like she had sucked up all his loneliness and had turned it into something better.

They completed each other, two souls sticking together. But as it seems their "soul glue" could not withstand the cold.

He sighed as he worked his magic on the opening mechanism of the door. He had no idea what would happen now that the truth was out, but he hoped that Jemma had just panicked. The look on her face clearly indicated that, though he couldn't be sure. For once he had been unable to read her feelings. She had been a few meters away from him, but it had felt like miles. And then she even increased their distance, turning her back on him, running away.

That wasn't likely for her. She was loyal, one who never abandoned a friend and one who thought that people couldn't decide which person they loved. At least she had told him once when they were watching T.V. And he always thought that if he ever had the guts to tell her, she would not leave him.

In his imagination there would have been at lot of awkwardness, but never did he believe she would go. The main reason he never told her was that he thought their friendship would change after and that they'd not be as close as before. Not to mention that his lack of confidence was the biggest thing that had prevented him from spilling out the truth. And maybe because a tiny little flicker of hope in his stomach wanted to live on instead of being crushed from her considerate words of rejection, but he didn't really admit that.

But there were no considerate words and there was no awkwardness.

The only thing left was he himself, in a place he didn't want to go in the first place. Left alone, without a clue what was going on with her, with the feeling in his guts that things would turn awful any minute.

That's just because she ran away and because you hate being left in the dark, he thought and assured himself that this feeling would fade soon enough, once he was inside and once he knew what was going on with his best friend.

He didn't notice when the beauty of the snow stopped glittering in the moonlight and he didn't feel the change of winds.

The only thing he felt was the need to go back inside as soon as possible, so he hurried up with repairing the door. He let out a relieved breath when he finished his work, collecting his gear.

Now he would only have to test if it opened easily again. He closed the door, leaning his back on it for a moment to rest. He sunk down on the ground, closing his eyes for a minute. Once he'd push down on the handle, the door would open again, he was sure of that.

And then he would go back inside, apologizing to Jemma for whatever the hell he had done. She would smile slightly at him; tell him that he wasn't the one who needed to say he was sorry. She would explain why she had left him there; assuring him that it was alright.

She would crush this tiny little flicker of hope, would break his heart, but she would promise him that their friendship hadn't ended. After all, he shared an apartment with her at home, so it would really be awkward if she just moved out… She wouldn't do that. No. That was just an incident out of the ordinary that made her behave unlikely.

Yes, after their talk things would be awkward, but that was Jemma he was talking about. The most faithful person he knew. And even though she had left him here, she probably had a good reason. He had dropped a rather big bomb on her to be honest.

He got up, cleaning off the snow from his trousers and wanted to look up in the sky. Although it was cold as hell, he wanted to admire one of nature's most beautiful pictures before heading inside. It was not every day that the weather was that calm. And not to mention that it was rarely possible to see the stars shining through the clouds so clearly.

But when he glanced up in the sky, snow clutched against his cheek. The slow dance of the snowflakes had stopped and now they were twirling around in the air, freezing his face.

He did not dress that warm, because he thought this was going to be a ten minutes work. So he rushed to the door, sensing the sudden change of the weather conditions.

But in his haste he slipped, falling down hard on the floor, his leg snapping loudly. His heart was racing and he had problems catching his breath again.

The wind swirled the snow around so heavily that he couldn't even see his gear-kit anymore. And that had been only two meters away.

He crawled, trying to reach the door, but he didn't get very far. The floor was ice-cold and singing the song of death louder than anything else. He'd freeze if he stayed down. He needed to move, fast!

So he got up, on all fours, feeling the coldness in every limb. He made his way to the door, looking for the handle but he couldn't reach it from this position. He tried to get up without hurting his most likely broken leg any further, but the ground was too slippery and he fell back on his knees again.

He tried it again, but without any success. The wind had gotten stronger, making this whole ordeal even more difficult and painful. Ice-cold snow clutched against his body and had made its way into his eyes, blurring his vision. But this was not the end yet. He wouldn't let it end like that, not now.

With one sudden and excruciating movement, he jumped from his knees into the air, getting a hold of the handle. Somehow he was standing on one leg, for a split second. But when he pushed it down a second later, his one foot slipped away and his whole weight was focused on the handle that could not withstand this sudden motion and broke. He fell down, hitting his head on the hard concrete door.

He tried to look for the handle that had landed somewhere near him, but the snow made it sheer impossible. His head thumped heavily, but he ignored it.

"Dammit" he shouted out, but the storm sucked up his voice. There was no way he could enter the building from this entrance. He had to find another way, somehow.

So he got back into his crawling position, slowly moving forward while swallowing down the panic that had appeared. If he could just make his way to the next door, he would be safe and sound and once he was inside he could shout for help.

So he started moving, turning left at some point when he noticed that he had no idea where the next door was. Or where he was. There should have been a wall by now, but there never came one.

He turned around, looking for light, or for some kind of orientation, but all he could see was the grey fog that had appeared and the snow whirling around him.

There was no way out. Why weren't the floodlights on that marked the entrances? Where were they? And why hadn't he stayed by the door, where Jemma would have found him easily?

All this questions came to his mind, when he noticed how tired he was. Although all his limbs felt numb, he still felt the pain in his leg. His head hadn't stopped throbbing and for a moment, he closed his eyes.

Just for a second and then I will try to find my way back, he thought as his hands and legs shivered uncontrollably.

But soon a second turned into two and before he knew it, he was lying on the ground in embryo position, holding onto his knees tightly. It was the worst cold he'd ever experienced and most likely ever would. Although he wore thin gloves, his hands were cold and as hard as a rock. His clothes did nothing against the frozen, hard snow that clutched against him. He could have been naked that moment; it would have amounted to the same thing. He felt every snowflake, every gust of wind that hit him. The woolen hat he was wearing was the only thing that didn't let the cold in. But that didn't matter, as his head was already hurting enough every time he moved.

He couldn't get up now, he felt it. Even if he managed to get into a crawling position with his hurt leg, he wouldn't be able to hold his head up for long.

And even if he could, how did he know he was going into the right direction?

He was trapped in this storm and if he couldn't see anything, how would anybody else be able to make out his position?

Was that really it? Was that how he would end up? As a pile of frozen limbs under the snow?

Would he get a picture on the table in the eating area, just like the other three men that had died at the station?** Or would he get a cross just like the first known man who died there?

"Most likely as just a picture", was the last thought he could form before the darkness around him closed in. His consciousness drifted away slowly and he could feel his heartbeat getting weaker. Soon the only thing left would be his physical shell, covered in white, innocent snow.

But until then, he was surrounded by Silence. Calm, but yet frightening silence.

** in 2009 the winterovers chose to pay tribute to the three station- men that had died at the south pole by providing a special table for them.

Andew B. Moulder was crushed between a cargo sled and an aircraft during cargo unloading operations in February 1966. Severe ice-fog created a dangerous working condition, making it hard to see.

Casey A Jones was crushed to death by snow in January 1980.

Rodney Marks died from unknown natural causes after experiencing breathing problems while walking back to the dome from his lab in May 2000. There has been a lot of media reports and speculations about his death, some of them even called it the first murder of the south pole.

The first known man who died there was Seaman George T. Vince on the first expedition of Scott in 1902. He wanted to find his way back to the ship when he slipped. **

I have the information from soutpolestation .com so it should be correct.

Don't worry; as you've already read in the prologue, they're going to find him in the next chapter. I have already started, but it will take me a bit longer (but not two weeks again, I promise^^) Also, the next chapter won't be as long as this one. That's actually put together from two chapters that I had originally written before and that's why it's longer than usual.

P.S. I don't really know how it feels to freeze, but as this is just fiction I didn't look it up, so I'm sorry if this is a bit unrealistic. But it is possible to break a leg from just slipping; I experienced that first hand.

Thank you for reading and a review is very much appreciated!