This chapter has taken soooooo long to update! My sincerest apologies! Life has been a pain, and I won't bore you with the details. So here is the latest, will have the next one up soon. I think there will only be one or two chapters left.

Thank you all for keeping up with this story, you have been amazing. And a special thanks to 6of7 for asking me to continue. You seriously made my life! This chapter is for you!


Marco actually didn't remember much of his frantic scramble through the snowy path leading back into the foothills. One minute he had been driving up the slippery road in his rental truck. The deep snow threatened to yank the steering wheel out of his typically steady hands, and the falling snow covered his windshield almost as fast as the wipers could remove it. He remembered stopping at the top of the hill and getting his skis out of the back of the truck bed. For a long time, he knew nothing else except white snow and one foot in front of the other. The next moment of conciousness that he experienced, he found himself waist deep in soft snow below the ridge among the drifts in the valley. He floundered in many feet of cruel, white powder, while adrenaline drove his body forward long after his cognitive abilities had shut down from complete exhaustion and exposure.

The cabin.

Had to get to the cabin.

Cap was waiting.

Johnny was counting on him.

When he finally stumbled up to the door of the lonely log cabin, he didn't even notice the smoke wafting from the chimney. His vision was completely blurry and his thoughts were beginning to fade into blissful darkness. Desperation gave him enough barely energy to pound on the door with frozen hands before leaning, exhausted, against the unforgiving frame. After what felt like hours of plowing through snow, even though he was a heap on the porch, his legs still felt like they were walking - striving - begging for rest - but he had to be in time to save his captain. He just had to be.

Hank hurried to the front of the cabin as fast as his sprained ankle could carry him, with Ashley following close behind. Hesitating for one moment, he glanced at the worried face of his sister, and he knew they were both thinking the same thing...what if it was the escaped convict again? Maybe someone had finally come to rescue them? He decided to hope for the less deadly of the two options. Taking a steadying breath, fist clenched tightly, he threw open the door as wide as it would go. A tall, hunched over figure stumbled in, covered in snow and breathing heavily. Nearly stumbling over his own snowshoes, the newcomer immediately fell to his knees, desperately trying to pull off his snow-caked gloves. They could tell from what bit they could make out that it wasn't the convict. But Hank doubted rescue would come in the form of one man. He glanced out the doorway, and his heart sank a little. There was nothing in sight except white blowing snow and bitter wind.

Hank, brow furrowed in confusion, quickly grabbed the large hands in his own and waved toward Ashley to move back to safety. "No, no, there, good fellow, leave those on. You are almost frozen yourself. Let's get you over to the fire. Come with me, okay?"

A mute nod from the man gave Hank the permission that he needed and he carefully dragged the newcomer to the glowing warmth of the small blaze in the fireplace. He reached down and pulled back the scarf that was wound around the stranger's neck, trying to identify their visitor who lay still and gasping on the floor. With a pang of shock, Captain Stanley found himself looking down into the pale and nearly frozen face of his fireman, Marco Lopez.

Ashley gazed up at her brother in shock. "It's Marco! Did he come all the way through that snow for us?" Her voice was hushed, and gentle, nearly drowned out by the wheezing breathing of the fireman. "He can't save us by himself, can he?"

Hank didn't answer her, his face drawn in a tense frown. His mind was going a mile a minute. He dragged his fellow fireman closer to the glow of the fire, trying to provide the best rescue care that he could remember in his own state of shock. "Get the blankets, Ashley," he spoke quickly, nervously, shoving his fingers underneath the snow caked cuff of the man's jacket, attempting to get a pulse on Marco's wrist. The skin beneath was way too cold for Hank's liking. "Hang in there, buddy." Hank muttered gently, and patted the man's broad shoulder. Sliding one hand under the heavy jacket at the man's waist, the skin Hank contacted was cold but not as frozen as his extremities. Marco had worn the right clothing. Sighing in relief that his fireman was not completely insane, Hank covered his fellow employee with the blanket that Ashley had brought from the couch, and quickly reassessed his patient's vitals. Marco seemed to be sleeping now, and Hank figured he was completely exhausted. He really wanted to grab the man and shake him for taking such a foolhardy risk. He would never have forgiven himself if he had made it safely out of the old cabin only to find his fireman was frozen solid down in the valley halfway between him and safety. He would find the right moment to relay these thoughts to the man but right now wasn't the time. He was grateful that he would get the chance. But he knew once those fireman's dark eyes looked into his own, only words of praise and support would come out of the captain's lips. Smiling crookedly, he leaned close to the still man's ear and whispered, "You're a complete jerk, you moron, but I thank you for your loyalty. You've done your firehouse proud."

Nodding to himself, the weary chief patted Marco's shoulder and struggled to his feet, moving to the glowing fireplace, finding a place to sit comfortably on the warm hearth. Ashley sat down next to him, elbows propped on her knees.

"How's your head?" He asked quietly, glancing over at her to assess her condition. She had been quiet ever since Marco's unannounced arrival.

Ashley shrugged, her eyes still focused on the sleeping fireman. She was twisting her hands together nervously, off in another world of her own, and barely acknowledged his concern.

Hank smiled and, reaching over, laid his good hand on her arm. "Easy there, Peanut. Don't think about it all too much."

She raised her eyebrows incredulously and shook her head. "Nothing else left to do but think, Hank. How did Marco find us? How did he know where to look? How did he get here in this snowstorm? Are there others on their way? Are we all just gonna die here together like rats in a cage?" Her question ended in a strained voice, that betrayed her fragile emotions. Marco's appearance really had raised more questions than provided answers.

Hank reached out again and grasped both of her arms in his hands, easing off the hearth and kneeling in front of her as best as he could. "Listen, Ashley, do NOT go there. When Marco wakes up, we will ask him all those questions. But fretting like this is going to help nobody. He and I are going to get all of us out of here." He reached up and brushed back her hair from the bruising injury on her forehead. Inwardly he was shaken by the condition of his fireman, but tried not to let his emotions show outwardly. She had to have one stable person to lean on, and he needed to keep his adrenaline controlled. "I've been in worse situations, Ash. I promise you, there's a way out."

Finally, her eyes left Marco and found her brother's face. He smiled kindly at her, and he was pleased as the corners of her mouth twitched up ever so slightly. "You promise?"

"Yes." He replied without hesitation. "You know old Hank has never broken a promise to his little sister."

For a moment, she gazed at him, deep into his eyes, daring him to be faking it, that familiar argumentative frown on her face that he remembered from years ago, searching eyes looking into his for any hint that he was not being completely honest. Then he saw that strong facade fade, and she looked so much older than he remembered. She nodded in acceptance and let him pull her into a hug. Closing her eyes, she left Hank and drifted off into a troubled sleep.


Roy called Raymond and the Carbondale Rescue Team as soon as they got to the hotel. He tuned out Jo's frantic worrying and mothering long enough to explain the situation to the concerned commander and turned to Jo as he hung up the phone.

"Jo, honey, listen, that's one of my men out there."

Jo stopped pacing and put her hands on her hips, frowning thunderously at him. "Roy DeSoto, you literally just walked out of the hospital after going in because of a severe concussion. What do you think you are doing? You can't go out there, you should be in bed resting!"

Roy sat down heavily on the edge of the hotel bed. His shoulders ached with the tension of the stress he was feeling, combined with his recent injuries and he rubbed his face with a weathered hand. "Jo, no matter what happens to me, I have to try to help my men. It's the firemen way. Even if we were in a fire or a sinking ship, or on the dang Titanic, I would try to get my men out safely, even if it was the very last thing that I ever did on this planet."

Jo quietly sat down next to him, with a tired sigh, her own shoulders slumped in defeat. She knew her husband was not going to give up, and she feared that it would kill him if he eventually had to admit defeat. "I know, Roy. I know - I just - darn it, Roy, I am so worried about all of you." She immediately burst into tears, and Roy frowned at her concernedly, taking in the red eyes, the nervous twitch in her hands. He smiled tenderly and reached out, pulling her close to his chest.

"Hey, hey. Jo- hey. It's going to be alright, Jo. I promise. One way or another, it's going to be alright." He spoke gently, his words right at her ear, and he ran a hand up and down her cold arm. It felt as if they were falling into an abyss and he had no knowledge of how to stop before they hit the bottom.

Jo nodded bravely and pulled away, wiping her eyes as she turned to look up into her husbands face. "I know. I trust you, Roy. You sound just like Hank with all those brave promises." Those words sent a dark cloud over Roy's face and he pulled her close again, tucking her soft head under his chin. When he spoke again, his voice was tense and rumbling against her cheek.

"Jo, if he's gone I don't know what we will do."

She pulled away and looked up into his pained face. "You will survive, Roy. You all will."

Roy rested his head on the top of her head. "You know if Johnny had been able to that he would have been out there in two seconds."

"Of course he would," she replied gently. She felt the tension in her husband's shoulders, and she conceded defeat. He would go out there if it was only to bring his captain home. "At least we won't have to worry since he is still sleeping."

Roy looked down and gave her a tense smile. "Makes my job a little easier."

She smiled kindly at him, knowing the weight was still just as heavy.


It was early the next morning before anyone could get out of town due to the snow laden roads. Buckets of the white stuff had fallen all night, leaving the drifts even deeper than before. Roy was insisting on riding up the mountain in the Carbondale rescue truck, much to the dismay of his wife. He felt that he had to give it his best. After all, if he had just been a little bit sooner, he could have rescued his family, before the avalanche hit. Of course he knew that it was foolish to blame himself for the timing, but his worried and grief ridden mind had to do something, and it chose blame. He didn't argue the choice. Sheriff Dean Mitchell sat next to him, squeezed in between the paramedic and Raymond, the rescue chief. Roy saw the concerned young man casting a worried glance his direction every few minutes, and the tired man wanted to tell the kid to stop staring. But he knew that it was just friendly concern and he bit the inside of his jaw to keep from snapping. Raymond, his big hands clenched around the steering wheel, plowed through the drifts with the dogged determination of a husky, his jaw taught with his frustrated attempt to keep the heavy Ford between the ditches. Last thing they needed right now was a stuck rescue truck.

But he had no qualms about prodding the blonde paramedic. He was a seasoned rescue man. Having seen enough rescues go sideways due to exhausted manpower, he knew that his only crew was a young, eager sheriff of a hick town - and a scraped up, bandaged paramedic with dark circles under his eyes and a foot that tapped the floorboard nervously. Wasn't the best resources, but neither man would be talked out of the journey.

They drove up and up and up, backtracking the path they had taken not so long ago. Roy caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window and sighed. He looked like death. But he knew his junior paramedic would push as far as he could if it meant saving his partner. There was no way he was going to let his dark haired brother down.

"Keep your head clear, men," Raymond spoke in the tense silence of the cab. "No matter what you feel or think or see, keep the head level. There are three people lost out here. I don't need to see that number any higher."

Dean nodded gravely, his gaze focused out the icy windshield. Roy didn't really need this advice on a normal day, but he found himself thinking that perhaps this is what worried families felt like while he was busy digging someone out of rubble or a car or a burning structure. He knew his face probably carried the same lined, taught expression. He would have given them the same advice. Not meeting Raymond's gaze either, he nodded.

The older man sighed noiselessly, and shook his head. Why had he agreed to this?

Floundering around a slippery bend in the mountain road, before them appeared the old rental truck that the rescue chief had seen Marco driving.

"He made it up here, boys."

"Question is," Roy spoke grimly, swinging open his door and sliding out of the truck into the cold snowy air, his boots crunching loudly in the icy top layer -"is did he make it to the cabin down there?"

Dean nodded silently, following the paramedic out of the truck. The trio donned their skis and gear in silence, a mutual understanding in their body language and synchronized movements. Emotions were buried beneath concern and experience began to drive the search. They just had to ignore its morbid voice in their minds.