Frozen

After passing through chaos and fire, the intense coldness creeping through every cell of her body was nearly welcomed. The horrible screeching resonated inside her mind, this time less overwhelming than the first, and Frances surrendered her senses as her matter flew through the immensity of space. Expecting a difficult landing given, they'd jumped head first, Frances was nonetheless surprised by the intensity of the harsh welcome home. The wormhole was unstable, its matter seizing as white strings of energy surrounded its frame, and it literally spat the three occupants with an unusual amount of anger.

Frances was projected a few feet away from the actual gate, tumbling over on a bone-breaking surface. A hiss escaped her lips at the pain that shot through her body, leaving her stunned. Half a second later, the colonel landed directly on her left side, elbowing her in the ribs rather harshly. His painful cry echoed oddly in the place, accompanying the young lady's own protest and Sam's sharp muffled sound as she too was projected on the little group, face first.

Intense waves of pain seized her left arm, coming from the bruised elbow which had once more accommodated the fall, and the ribs fared no better from the colonel's unintentional blow. Frances's senses were going haywire, her eyes only seeing a white blur as her ears picked up the final whoosh of the closing gate. All her nervous system was concentrated on the harsh pain, and for a moment she stayed on the ground, stunned. A black veil threatened to take control of her, and she was starting to feel a little light headed. An intense feeling of coldness was now sweeping through her back, and darkness claimed her.

When Frances retrieved her bearings, hushed voices echoed around her. The first thing she noted was the intense cold as she struggled to open her eyes. Then the pain came rushing back, and she closed her eyes tightly to prevent from whimpering. Where were the strong lights from the infirmary? Had anybody retrieved the wounded Colonel? The silence, only interrupted by the whispers, was deafening, as if they were the only ones in the world. And this cold, creeping into her bones, as icy as the clutches of death.

— "How's the little lady?"

— "Unconscious, but OK, I think."

— "We'll make do"

She needed to shake out of it. Taking a deep breath, Frances rolled cautiously aside with a wince. Her ribs protested, tender, but she could breathe still. Her left arm and elbow refused to obey, the muscles seized from their previous landing on the stargate steps. Needless to say, that the cold didn't help with their mobility. The dull ache, though, reassured her a little; nothing seemed to be broken. Not that she'd even broken anything, mind you. Sheer luck or flexibility, Frances had no idea, but even after joining Interpol she'd been lucky enough to never break or tear anything despite many, many harsh landings and awkward fights. Opening her eyes, she met a pair of disapproving brown ones glazed with pain. O'Neill was lying on the ground, less than a meter way, with Carter hovering over his leg.

— "There, sleeping beauty. Time for your tongue lashing"

Frances send the Colonel a confused look before he started berating her.

— "What did you think you were doing!"

This time, she sat on the ground to check that all her limbs were indeed, accounted for.

— "You said we don't leave anybody behind," she responded in a flat voice.

O'Neill's eyes budged out of his face, and he struggled to sit, swatting Carter's protest away with an angry gesture. His finger pointed at her accusingly.

— "We don't, you do! You're just a girl, for God's sake. If you expose yourself, it'll be my job to retrieve you, understood?"

Frances's anger rose, and she had to bit her lip to refrain from yelling back at the man. She just wanted to help! Had she made a difference, or put herself in needless danger? A question none would ever have the answer to. Fortunately, Carter decided to take the matter into her hands.

— "Try to stay put Sir, I think your leg's broken."

— "No, my leg's definitely broken. This is bad news, 'cause unless they've redecorated the gate room I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

Frances snickered at that; O'Neill's dark humour quite agreed with her. She'd just have to wait until he wasn't pissed at her anymore to start trading jokes.

— "Daniel must have misdialled"

Frances turned around to take in the very empty cavern around them, voicing her inner thoughts.

— "Where are they?"

Her remark went unnoticed.

— "Misdialled? You mean this place is a wrong number? Ah, for crying out loud. Yes, where is he then?"

— "He's not here, Sir, neither is Teal'c."

As O'Neill tried using the radio, Frances couldn't help but feel bad for the Captain who'd been awake for a long time on her own. And this 'sir' name calling would be getting old very soon. The young woman stood, leaving Colonel and Captain for a little while to take a look around. The wormhole had dug a set of huge holes into ice walls, preventing them from being crushed to death upon impact. Good, even with Murphy's law upon their backs, there still was a guardian angel working like a madman. As Carter had said, ice planet or middle age ice age. Truth be told, even if the situation seemed a bit bleak, she'd never seen such a beautiful setting. Frances loved ice, it made her feel like adorning her skates. And the Captain's brain worked very, very fast.

— "We're in trouble, Sir," came her lovely voice from their spot on the ground.

— "Oh, nonsense. We'll just dial home and straighten all this out. Where's the DHD?"

The Colonel's tone was playful, a little too eager for her taste though. Especially since Carter mentioned that the Home dialling device was nowhere to be found. That sucked.

— "Oh, so, uh, we're in trouble."

Frances walked back to them, decided to sort out their priorities. First, tending to the Colonel's broken leg. Second, making a possible makeshift camp while Carter looked around for the DHD; she was the only one able to get them out of this mess. As she shared her strategy with the air force officers, Carter looked mildly impressed that she hadn't panicked yet.

— "It makes sense. We'll splint your leg sir, then I'll find the DHD."

It was easier said than done, and both women were insulted profusely after trying to tend for the Colonel's leg. After yelling his lungs out at Carter as she reset the bone, O'Neill eventually turned to her.

— "Didn't you say you were studying biology? Can't you do it?"

The Captain seemed as contrite as she was saddened, and Frances shook her head, impressed by the Colonel's memory. He seemed to love playing dumb, but retained an awful lot of information. And there was no way in hell she could reset a broken bone.

— "Biology, as in dissecting insects and plants. Sorry, but I've never done that before, and I don't think I could do a better job than the Captain"

O'Neill rolled his eyes with a wince.

— "No offence, but no. No dissecting me"

— "I can help stabilise your leg, it will be easier for the Captain to splint it properly."

His dark eyes seemed to dance a moment before he gestured to the two women.

— "Go ahead, have fun," he quipped.

Frances followed Carter's instructions closely, hands shaking from the cold, and from the fear of damaging the Colonel any further. Especially since he was quite vocal about it. She had no qualms admitting that his anger made her stomach queasy; she'd rather face a gun to the head than to be shouted at by the Colonel. At last, the Captain distracted him, coaxing him into telling a story of his black Ops days. Mesmerised, Frances could only clench her jaw as he recounted his 9 days crawling in the Iraki desert with a broken bone. Her arms shook from the strain to keep his leg upright, but it seemed to help as Carter only had to wrap bandages around the splint without moving his leg around. The mention of Sara, O'Neill's wife, left a sour taste in her mouth. As he and Carter argued a little more, she couldn't help but mull on the pain and regret that had flashed through his eyes. Raw, heart wrenching pain that had nothing to do with his leg. Frances wondered if he was still married, her brain going overdrive until his land landed on her arm.

— "Sorry for yelling at you. And thank you for the help."

Frances's gaze roamed over his now splinted leg.

— "Never mind. I get it. It'd be cranky too in your situation."

— "I'm still right, though."

His playful jab called the ghost of a smile on her lips, then he turned to Carter.

— "Good. Now help me up"

— "Ah, I don't think you should move."

— "Probably not, but my butt's freezing to the ground. Come on"

There was no saying no to a commanding officer, and Carter complied. Once propped up, the Colonel seemed a little more at ease than lying down at the mercy of two makeshift nurses. He took a good look around, and sent a playful smile to the Captain.

— "Ah. Ah, a little paint, a coupla windows, maybe a fireplace in the corner, it'll be just like home."

The Captain left his side to wander around on her own, but Frances' gaze was fixed on the same corridor the Colonel had been gazing at.

— "We might be able to climb out of here. You might, anyway," he added, turning to the young woman beside him.

Frances considered the slope for a moment, wondering if she could use knives to stabilise her ascension. There were rocks embedded in the ice here and there; it would provide good places to put her feet on the way up. Yes, she might very well be able to do it. How difficult could it be compared to climbing trees?

— "Yes, I think I could. Maybe I could find some help?"

— "No, I mean, you and Carter."

Silence. Big, heavy silence that told her she'd not misunderstood his meaning, the one where both women saved their asses and left him here. Their eyes met, dark brown to light brown, and Frances couldn't find anything to retort to his unspoken command. She could only nod awkwardly until Carter's enthusiastic cry shook them out of their battle of wills.

— "Colonel, I've found it!"

— "Found what?"

— "The DHD, I figure the glacial flow must have separated the Stargate from its Dial Home Device, but it looks like it might be intact."

Frances almost deflated with relief. The idea of leaving one of their teammates behind to freeze to death wasn't one she enjoyed, even if she didn't know them well. With Mulder and Scully, she'd learnt the strong bond of comradeship, and the importance to stick together no matter what. It had saved their lives many times. Beside her, the Colonel spotted Carter on top of a big block of ice, and leaned over with a wince.

— "Ah, God. Oh. Can we dig it out?"

— "Yes"

It didn't take long until the three of them were chopping at the ice, the repetitive moves sending warmth through Frances' frozen body. That's it, the ultimate way to stay alive in this ice planet. Dancing! Chuckling at her own stupid joke, Frances couldn't help but frown as O'Neill clutched his chest, his face pained. At once, the Captain stopped moving.

— "What's wrong with your chest?" she asked.

— "I think I cracked a rib too."

This time, she looked exasperated.

— "Why didn't you say something?"

— "I was afraid you'd try to put a splint on it. I'll be fine"

And just like that, they started working anew, both Frances and Carter stealing glances at the Colonel to ensure he was fit enough to continue. For sure, he sometimes swayed on his feet, but she wasn't courageous enough to order him on the ground. Grumbling that, next time, she would wear a Gore-Tex undershirt, Frances contemplated her frozen fingers as they hacked at the huge lock of ice that contained their ticket home. In the meantime, she observed the banter between the Captain and the Colonel. Not quite friendly, sometimes bordering on annoying – from both sides – by linked already.

Not unlike Mulder and Scully had been. She hoped Mulder wasn't having a fit back there; every time she was in danger, he rather lost his cool. Something to do with the responsibility of throwing her into all sorts of messes. Frances, for one, wondered if she hadn't taken the honorary place of his little sister somewhere along the way. Truth be told, she rather saw him like a kind older brother who dragged her into all sorts of nonsense and dangerous playground. The typical older sibling. But she knew he would blame himself for bringing her there in the first place. She hoped, for herself, for her parents, and for him, that they would manage to get this blasted DHD to work. They needed to remain positive, to think clearly, because Carter was right. There was no way a search party could find them if they stuck on probabilities. But Daniel Jackson knew about the stargate, right? He was the one who figured it out in the first place from what she gathered. Surely he would be able to narrow the search down. For the moment, though, Carter seemed on the verge of losing it as her voice rose against her commanding officer. And the Colonel had had enough, hence his stern reply to her lesson of probabilities.

— "Not if they look here first."

Frances refrained from rolling her eyes. Was it wishful thinking, or a real belief in God that pushed O'Neill to dismiss the Captain's concerns? Should she intervene, or would O'Neill bite her head off?

— "Even if all SG teams started searching right now, the mathematical probability of them even…"

— "Captain!"

There it was, the breaking point. Fortunately, O'Neill didn't vent his anger and resumed chipping the ice.

— "I think too much," Carter sighed.

Frances couldn't help but feel bad for her. She was responsible for getting them home, since none of them had the theoretical knowledge to help her. What a burden! Angry moves projected the ice all around the Captain, so much that Frances decided to talk to her. At least, to keep a little conversation flowing.

— "You're right. Random searches would take ages, and I guess Dr Jackson knows that. Don't you think he will be able to narrow the search down?"

Carter send her an exasperated look.

— "Assuming he is on earth, yes he might."

Frances sighed. Right. On the other hand, after such a malfunction, it was a miracle they had made it in the first place.

— "Well, honestly, I think we are quite luck to be alive and not disintegrated into space."

O'Neill, seemingly spent, sent her a startled look and waved at her with his knife.

— "See Carter, positive thinking."

— "Yeah. And I positively think you should get some rest, sir."

The Colonel grumbled at that, but agreed to settle on the ground to melt some ice. Carter and Frances exchanged a worried glance; he'd not even fought against their coddling. Yet, there was not much they could do, so the girls resumed working. It took hours, at least, to get the circular dialling device a little more visible. By then, Frances's feet felt so numb she wondered if she still had ten toes.

— "Soups on," interrupted the Colonel from the ground.

Frances sighed in relief. She was spent, and frozen. But Carter wasn't ready to give up yet; she swore that woman ate uranium at breakfast.

— "Just a little more, we're almost through."

— "Come on now, you don't want it to get cold."

His teasing voice reminded her of a mother about to deal punishment on his children if they didn't comply. Just the right amount of cynicism to counteract Carter's disbelief.

— "I didn't know you could cook."

— "I can't," he deadpanned. "But my melted ice is to die for."

This time, Frances laughed. The Colonel's ability to make light of a dire situation earned him a lot of respect from the young woman, especially since her thoughts were barreling on depressing now. Probably the cold, Frances had very little padding to keep her insulated. Would she weep, after a few kids, about the silhouette she had back then that made her rage against her frozen buttocks?

— "Thank you. Sir, maybe I should have another look at you."

— "No, I'm fine. Eat."

There was a dismissal. Firm, but not ungentle, with a little warning underlying. Frances settled on the ground next to the Colonel and nodded her thanks as the proffered bowl of soup. Her nose scrunched slightly at the smell.

— "What is this?" she asked, trying to assess the pieces of whatever that swam in an undefined liquid.

O'Neill munched on his own dinner as the Captain responded.

— "MRE. Chicken probably"

— "Uh? Aimarey?"

— "It stands for "Meal Ready to Eat". Daniel always complains it tastes like chicken, even when it is not. Come on, don't be shy. There aren't lots of chickens running around here"

Frances stared down at her food, her heart balancing between the searing hunger and a highly disgusted feeling.

— "No wonder if they know they will end up like THAT."

Her answer caused the Colonel to chuckle, then wince at his bruised rib. A smile had bloomed on the Captain's lips as well, before it was wiped out by her running brain.

— "I've been thinking about how the Stargate might have malfunctioned."

Frances braced for impact. Carter's thinking tended to blow her mind, and exhaustion was slowly, but surely seeping down her bones.

— "Yeah?"

— "Well, we don't totally understand how it works, but the theory we have so far is that the gate creates an artificial wormhole, that somehow transfers an energised matter stream in one direction along an extra-dimensional conduit. I think the matter stream between Stargates got redirected, kind of like a lightning bolt jumping from one point to another in mid-strike. Now, I figure it had to have been the attack on P4A-771. The gate itself was probably struck by enough energy during the firefight to influence the direction of the matter stream before we reached the other side."

A slight pause, just the time to regain her breath before the Captain eyed her superior suspiciously.

— "Colonel?"

— "I'm sorry, I wasn't listening."

Then he turned to Frances with a weary expression.

— "Were you?"

The young woman was still processing the onslaught of information thrown at her, and her voice was quiet as she tried to understand what the Captain meant.

— "Yeah, unfortunately. My brain aches but … what was your conclusion? That we are close to earth?"

Blue eyes widened, enthusiasm regaining the Captain as she jumped to her feet.

— "Exactly! What I'm saying is, we must have emerged through a Stargate relatively close to Earth in the gate network, somewhere between P4A-771 and Earth. Now, if the SG rescue teams reach the same conclusion, it could significantly reduce their search."

— "That's good news," said the Colonel tiredly.

— "Yeah."

But the good news didn't last long as, at last, the damn DHD was uncovered. Frances observed with a hawk's eyes as the Captain explained how the addresses worked, and what she thought were their point of origin. Fascinated, the young woman watched the buttons lightening up as the Captain dialled. The disappointment was akin to hitting a wall full force; the gate never lightened up. It did not even tremble. As Carter refused to lose hope and already considered how to fix it, another disheartening problem arose. Blood splattered over the ice, crimson droplets over the immaculate snow. Eyes widening, Frances realised that the Colonel might have a punctured lung. They were utterly, royally screwed!