A/N: Next chapter will be sooner, I promise.

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Chapter 5

Kal's feet sink into the powdered snow, down several inches to where melted-then-frozen crystals have made a thin layer of ice. As soon as he puts his weight down his boot breaks through the crust, doubling the effort it takes him to pull it back out again. Two hours of this arduous trekking threatens to pull his mind into a barely-conscious "marching" state, essentially shut off except for the movement of his feet and the gentle swaying from side to side. It's a state of mind that he knows can save him from boredom on long marches, but Kal feels uneasy, very aware of how his crimson suit contrasts with the plain around him. Now is not a time to let his mental faculties slip away.

Despite his efforts to keep focused, there is a definite lack of things to focus on. All around the small group of marines white stretches off into the distance. The only break in the monotonous landscape is a bluish haze to the north that grows larger with painful slowness as they push onward. It must be a forest. The LZ is up there somewhere. Were there trees when we landed? Maybe. Probably. Hell, I wouldn't have been able to see a squad of krogan berserkers in that storm. And Retellis squad is north of that. How did we get so far separated? Did discipline really fall apart that quickly? Zarra doesn't seem like the kind of guy to let something like this happen. Maybe he couldn't handle the responsibility. Maybe a whole platoon was too much for him.

Kal's brow furrows, his expression turning grim. He might be dead for all I know. Who are these people? We were told to expect salarians, not human hostiles. But we weren't supposed to land in the middle of a blizzard right on top of a machine gun nest, either. Quarian military strategy at its finest. See some geth and we just have to chase them. It's a complex. It's burned into their tiny little brains somehow. Should be burned into mine, too. I guess I got enough shit going on up there.

He kicks savagely at a clump of snow. It explodes limply into white sparkles. Kal's scowl deepens. I really wish I knew what's going on here. Geth, humans, salarians, and now us. This is a recipe for galactic war. If we even get out of here alive we'll prob'ly all be shot. We'll be "rogue elements." Rogue elements or terrorists or something else they can disavow and get rid of. Keelah, I can't be executed. I've got a –

Kal pauses mentally, searching for the right word. All the terms he can think of sound horribly insincere and common and inadequate to describe what exactly he has. Well I've got a James, and I have to make it back to him. I can't do that dead in the snow, and I can't do that as a political prisoner for the rest of my life. A smile ghosts across his lips. How's that for a mission statement?

Kal raises his eyes to the horizon. The blue smudge is beginning to resolve itself into a more jagged smudge that vaguely resembles a line of trees. He lifts a hand, calling halt, and the squad crunches to a stop behind him. "Get us a scan of the treeline," he orders the squad sniper, whose name he still cannot remember.

"Sir," replies the sniper. She lays herself down in the snow, extending her rifle and snapping out its bipod. Kal's eyes roam around the blank scenery, discomfort prickling his skin. They should have prepared us better, he thinks. We should have had arctic camouflage, they could have at least checked the weather before dropping us-

His thought trails off as something overhead catches his eye. A black speck is gliding through the sky in their direction. That's odd, he thinks, almost in a daze. I don't remember seeing any birds. The black dot grows, arcing down toward him. That's not a bird. That's- "Mortar fire!" Kal roars, his eyes fixed on the rapidly descending object. "Scramble … " His eyes do not leave the shell, watching intently even as his body screams panic and urges him to run. He squints against the sun. A whistling sound begins to be heard. Kal bites his lip, then makes a decision. "Left!" he cries, and throws himself away from the direction he prays the mortar will fall. He has only a second to think Oh Keelah I hope I'm right before the shock wave sends him stumbling and falling face first into the snow. Kal picks himself up as soon as he's able, his ears ringing, and looks around franticly for his squad. More suited bodies are clambering out of the snow around him. He doesn't see any blood. "Sound off!" he commands.

The squad complies. Kal offers silent thanks to his ancestors, hoping fervently that he's been enough of a bastard that they won't want him joining them just yet. "Foward!" he calls to the squad. "It'll be just as hard for them to correct their aim this way." He has only taken a few steps when another shrieking whistle snaps his eyes back up to the sky.

"It's short!" one of the marines shouts.

"Heads down!" yells Kal, dropping to the snow and covering his head. The blast is less violent this time, and when Kal raises his head he sees a cloud of steam rising from farther away than the last explosion. Why wouldn't they have corrected their aim? Can they see us? How could they not, I'm wearing bright red armor. He stands up shakily, waving his squad forward once more. They break into an awkward jog, the snow dragging their legs down and making every step a battle. When the next whistle comes every pair of eyes in the squad is immediately scanning the sky, every pair of legs tensed to run. The whistle is fainter than the last though, and the detonation comes as a surprise, no one having seen the falling shell. A plume of steam rises from far to the left.

Kal feels he is missing something, but he knows that what he needs to do is push on into the cover of the trees and take out the launcher before whoever's on the other end of it learns how to aim.

There's a a boom, like cannon fire, so loud that it seems to echo through Kal's bones. He looks around in mounting panic, waiting for the inevitable crash of the shell. No impact comes. A marine looks up at him questioningly. "What was-"

The booming noise comes again, more high-pitched this time, like a heavy rifle shot magnified a hundred times. The ground shudders beneath Kal's feet. He slowly drops his gaze, staring numbly at the ground between his feet. He feels the bottom drop out of his stomach even as the whistle of the next inbound shell rends the air. They see us. They're just not aiming to hit us. Dread fills him slowly, rising higher inside him like icy water. He is unable to move.

"Fuck." It's the sniper, and her voice and the complete comprehension held in it break Kal out of his trance.

"Move!" he screams, the sound tearing from his throat full of fear and urgency.

The boom resounds once more across the plain as Kal and the quicker half of the squad plunge forward. The ground shakes again. Then it is simply gone. Kal feels the snow slipping away beneath his feet, tipping him forward with a sickening lurch. He throws out his hands, trying to grab onto something, anything, but there is only more nothing. He pitches forward and something collides with the back of his head.

Cold. It is such a sudden, violent cold that it knocks the air from Kal's lungs and flashed red and black behind his eyes. His mouth opens, unable to draw breath, his body rebelling against the change. Something is holding him up, but it gives way slowly as he twists and turns, letting him down slowly, pressing from all sides with deep, tremendous cold. His eyes are open, or at least he thinks they are, but he sees nothing but black. He barely notices the blackness, his mind busy with its struggle to comprehend the cold. His body moves slowly, turning sluggishly as it falls, and a light passes before his eyes. It blinks at him from far away, a whitish blue that it seems he used to know.

His lungs cry out, tearing through the all-encompassing pressure of the cold, and he pulls in a ragged breath that doesn't feel right. The cold begins to seep away, slowly lessening. In its place a pleasant fuzziness takes hold, a deadening of sensation and a vague warmth. It is better than the cold and Kal welcomes it, feeling almost happy to see the light go as he turns over again, sinking ever lower in the cold void. Sinking... A thought, a word floats through his mind, unconnected and alone. Puzzled, he tries to make it make sense, to join it up to more words and ideas. Sinking. Sinking. I'm under water! The revelation is accompanied by panic. Kal tries to flail his arms and legs, but the treacherous warmth holds him still, whispering that all will be better if he does not move. The tingling, prickling feeling is creeping up his legs. It has devoured his fingers and hands, and is starting up his arms to his shoulders. Something inside his head mutters shock. Another voice says freezing. Kal is having trouble hearing them.

His breath is not coming easy. There's something wrong, his chest burning even as he pulls in air that seems empty somehow. White spots begin to eat at his vision, dancing in the blackness. This must be the end, he thinks numbly. Let the warmness take me before I can't breath anymore. I want to fall asleep, don't want to be awake for this.

But it's not right. There's something he was supposed to live for, and he feels an aching disappointment despite not being able to remember what it was. I've failed, he thinks. What did I fail? My mission? No, that didn't matter. Something else then. Some … one. A woman? A man. James. Who is James?

But you know who James is. Of course. He almost smiles. Remembers a handful of moments with James's face in them, moments tinged with light and happiness. Something I said … Something … Kal feels a strange desire to remember what it was before sleep takes him. It was important, something about what he said. He can remember it, and then he can slip away into warm darkness. Maybe he will dream of James.

I said … I said...

"I'll come back."

The words hit him like a blow, sending his mind reeling. You said you'd be back.

"I'll be back, James, I will."

You have to come back.

And he knows it with absolute certainty, and it is more true than the lure of sleep or the false warmth could ever be. He twists, catching sight of the light again. It is a very long way off, swimming in his vision. It seems it might not really be there at all.

You have to come back.

He strikes out, kicking with his feet and clawing upward with his hands. With each movement the warmth recedes further and further, the awful cold returning to deaden his limbs and pull him back down.

You have to come back.

Kal bares his teeth, fighting against his dead, useless arms, forcing them to work. The light wavers above him, or below him. He has no sense of up and down, only the light shining its beacon light-years out of his reach. He kicks harder, pushing the tendrils of sleep away as they threaten once more to overtake him. His lungs burn, trying to fill themselves with poisonous depleted air. The spot of light stays exactly the same. He does not know if it is getting closer.

You have to come you have to

His head pounds, his vision narrowing into a vignette, shadows dancing at its edges. He reaches out as if to grab the water and pull himself up. He cannot feel his legs moving and he cannot feel himself moving through the water. The light does not get closer.

Youhaveyouhaveyouhaveyouhave

The light grows, suddenly a giant, gaping hole in the blackness. It blasts into his eyes and he pushes harder, his fingers straining to touch the light.

Have to come back. For you.

Something hard digs into his forearms, banging his knees as he scrambles, his vision a haze of black and white spots. Something hits him in the side and he topples over, his head hitting the ground. His fingers stretch out, relax. There's snow. Snow is falling. Kal smiles. I made it. I made it home. James, I made it home for you. It's snowing. Do you see? He feels all the manic energy of his ascent draining out of him. He wants to turn onto his back to look at the sky, but he finds he is unable to move. That's okay. I'll look at it in the morning. We both will. Keelah, I'm so tired. His eyes droop closed, the pains of his body moving farther and farther away.

Get

Get up

You bastard goddamn it

Get the hell up

Don't try to play dead I know you're in there

On your feet marine!

The last one shakes something loose inside Kal's head. He opens his eyes, and the effort seems unreasonably difficult. His vision swims, gradually forming a picture that is too bright and confusing for him to make sense of. Feet. Boots? Snow? Where is this? Something grabs onto his wrist and he feels himself moving, being dragged. Suddenly the motion stops and there's a sharp burst of noise. "Get back, you motherfuckers! I can see you!" The staccato noise comes again, and then pain explodes in Kal's ribcage. He moans involuntarily. "Get up! I'm not going to drag you any further, and that means we're both dying right here."

The voice is bossy, and it seems to be connected to the foot that kicked him. Kal opens his mouth to ask a question, probably along the lines of who are you and why are you kicking me, when suddenly he remembers. It hists him like a tidal wave, the shock of it jolting him upright despite his body's strange lethargy. "Uaghh!" he says in alarm.

A marine is standing over him, unloading the clip of a heavy pistol into a line of tree trunks a few hundred meters away. Kal squints, barely able to make out moving figures between the trees. The marine stops, ejecting the thermal clip and slipping it into a pouch on her belt. Then she leans down to Kal, offering him a hand. "Come on," she says, her voice barely removed from desperation. "We have got to go."

Kal takes the hand mutely, pulling himself upright with the strong grip. His own hands don't want to close properly. His entire body feels strange and unresponsive. He takes a couple of half-steps, struggling not to fall on his face. The marine wraps an arm around his shoulder, heaving him along as she makes for a point further down the line of trees.

"Shouldn't we be … Shouldn't … They're in ..." says Kal, his mouth refusing to form complete sentences.

"Got to get in the trees," answers the marine. "It's the only way. They'll just shell the shit out of us if we stay out there."

"Where's … Where's … ?"

"All gone," says the marine, and there's bitter finality in her voice.

Kal twists around, looking behind them. What he sees nearly takes his breath away. The snowy plain they had been hiking along all through the morning is shattered, a huge fissure spreading for what looks like a mile. The occasional patch of white ice bobs on the black water. "It's not a plain," he whispers to himself. "It was ice. Why didn't I realize?"

"Come on," says the marine, and she pulls him away.