Disclaimer: Alliance Atlantis ownes them. I just borrowed them.

Author's Notes: With thanks to Herman Mellville

with thanks to Herman Melville

The thing was, Ray had a thin skin. All day long they would go go go, which was fine with him. It was not only fine, it was necessary, it was absolutely fucking greatness, and there were times when the sun was up and the wind was down and the snow was flying, he was flying, hell, they were all flying and the dogs were insane with happiness and he felt exactly like one of the dogs. The sun on the snow made these amazing spark things everywhere, like millions of them, like a whole field of diamonds that went on forever and he'd feel his mouth stuck in this huge goofy grin that wouldn't stop. So he'd touch down the edge of his boot when they cut yet another perfect curve. The snow would spray up and make oceans of diamonds until Fraser would tell him he shouldn't look because he would probably go blind. Which kind of put the kibosh on things. Figured, this being Fraser. Only now he knew all about Fraser--he'd seen Fraser out here a million miles from anywhere, laughing and yelling and howling at the moon. That's when he finally got the cosmic phone message that'd been blinking at him since they started: they were so far out they could do anything. Anything they wanted. So he waited until Fraser was busy with the dogs, face all relaxed and rosy-cheeked and smiling like a kid, and then at the next curve Ray touched his boot down again. Diamonds.

The thing about stopping was, every time they would stop Ray's face would hurt. First his nose, then his ears and cheeks, then his whole face. And then his eyes which was the worst absolutely, it would keep hurting worse until he'd start to get scared there was really something wrong. Plus the sun would still be up which made trying to sleep kind of weird and pointless. But if they just kept on go go going he would be so into it he wouldn't notice, he would completely forget to hurt. There was something profound about that. Ray thought about it briefly, which was about as long as you could really hold a thought up here that wasn't a dog thought, a thought about snow or sleds or seal fat, and decided it meant they should just keep on going forever.

Ray was proud of the way he'd adjusted to cold. He'd run behind the sled and on a good day he'd get hot, actually, he'd throw his coat open and pull off his scarf, and since Fraser had a thing about headgear, on a really good day he'd end up unbuttoning his shirt some. Fraser would catch him when they switched off with the sled and make him cover up more, and he'd remember it was like a million below but he couldn't help it, he was hot. He was adjusted. Okay, so eating sticks of Crisco was a little weird at first, but he really had no idea back in Chicago that Crisco tasted so good. And then they got a seal which was surprisingly fun, like the best kind of stakeout, and Fraser melted some seal fat in a bowl and they drank it and that was totally like drugs. His lips felt great afterward, like, for hours.

That's when Fraser started touching his face. He'd touched Ray's cheek and got this kind of weird look, which Ray thought meant Fraser was going to touch him and then lick his fingers, which was going to totally freak him out. But instead Fraser kind of frowned and said, "Come here, Ray," so Ray leaned over and Fraser dipped his fingers in the seal fat bowl and then rubbed them all over Ray's face, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And Ray's face felt great, like for hours. The next day he got hypothermia.

The hypothermia was not his fault. They had packed one shirt that looked like the others but turned out to be made of cotton, which was Wrong. Fraser usually wore it because rocks would fly to Mars before Fraser threw anything out, and Fraser had this stupid thing about hygiene which had ceased to matter to Ray like weeks ago, but it was oh yeah, mandatory changing clothes day for the dignity of home and empire. Or whatever. And Ray had to grab the wrong fucking shirt (which was another reason why the changing clothes thing was stupid and probably dangerous as well as first-thing-in-the-morning butt-ass cold), and the great weather which had almost succeeded in making him feel better about running out of coffee had to suddenly turn to shit. One minute he was sweating buckets and cussing the runners and the next his teeth were rattling out of his head and he seriously thought he was going to die, and then dying was impossible or else maybe a big joke. It was the weirdest thing. Everything went kind of funny including his knees, and by the time Fraser got him in the tent he was so tired and the tent was the nicest place he'd ever seen and Fraser was the best guy ever. And his shirt was kind of frozen to his skin.

Frase wrapped him up good. He held the furs tight around him for a minute until he thawed, then stripped him out of his clothes quick which in the tent was hilarious because they couldn't quite stand up. Ray kind of fell over Fraser's back and grabbed a thigh but didn't seem to be strong enough to dump him. Or maybe Frase'd gotten heavier since they were after all on some kind of other planet and what the hell, maybe gravity was different. Fraser weighed more on Pluto. Yeah, this would definitely explain Ray suddenly feeling so heavy. Fraser rolled him onto the furs which was fun, and toweled him off which was fun except really kind of itchy and painful, and look, Frase was doing the frowny thing with his face again. Ray pointed this out to Fraser, who did not seem to be interested. He kept staring at Ray's chest. So Ray craned his head around and tried staring at his chest too, just so Frase would not feel lonely and isolated. (Frase felt lonely and isolated a lot. This was something to which Ray, as his partner, was not about to contribute.)

And whoa Nellie. If they were on Ice Planet Zero, Ray had just found an alien. Only it was him. This discovery made him uncomfortable big time, plus he did not even get a hat with wings. He told Fraser this was an injustice. Actually, what he said was, "Fraser, my skin is all funny and I do not have a hat with wings."

Actually, his chest and belly were red and white and funny, and Ray knew from a million billion Fraser lectures that white was bad. He tried to say, hey Frase, I think maybe I got frostbite of the whole body, only what came out was, "Aaaaaahhh!!!"

And some kind of random thrashing around.

But Fraser knew what he meant. Because Fraser was THE greatest guy in the world. Fraser said, "It's okay, Ray. You do not have frostbite. You have snowburn." Which, being Fraser, did not sound any better, and "It looks like a significant case of eczema as well." Which, whatever it was, definitely sounded worse.

Ray was thinking about asking how long he had before his transformation into Fungus of Terror was complete, when Fraser said, "And your eyelids are swollen. I'm afraid you have an incipient case of snow blindness."

Snow blindness was bad. He knew that. And Fraser was still talking. Jesus, what else could he have? Cooties?

"...my fault entirely. I should have insisted we stop and make you some..."

No more frowny face. Frowny face was bad.

"Fraser. Fix it."

"It's going to be all right, Ray. I have a salve."

Ray wanted to say, of course it's going to be all right. You are the greatest guy in the world, you fucking moron. Of course you have a salve. But he was too tired. He whined instead.

"Close your eyes, Ray."

Ray burrowed down into the furs and closed his eyes. Better.

Fraser rubbed salve into his eyelids. It felt weird and wrong. He wriggled. Fraser made calming noises. He calmed. Fraser rubbed salve on his chest and belly. It felt great. He fell asleep.

When he woke up there was an igloo.

"Look, Fraser! Igloo!" Wow, igloos were painful to look at. Ow ow ow. He shut his eyes.

"Yes, Ray. Let's go in the igloo."

"No, Frase. No going in without asking. The bears might not like it."

"There are no bears in this igloo, Ray."

"They are white, Fraser. They blend." And, Ray thought, I cannot see for shit right now. There could be a whole army of mutant gun-toting polar bears in there right now and I could not draw a bead and I would not have a clue.

"All righty, then," said Fraser. "I'll just go in first and check."

Ray seized Fraser's ankles and growled. Which, since Fraser was already crawling into the igloo, meant sliding in after him feet kicking, belly in the air. Mmm. Dark. Quiet. Fresh igloo. Sometime during the non-night Fraser had made an igloo. It had an ice window and everything. Man, Fraser was good at this stuff. He was putting the furs out on a kind of snow shelf thing. Ooh. Instant bed. Ray launched at it and got dibs. He rolled around for a while, burying his nose in the furs and snuffing up the good animal smell. This was great.

"Ray. Ray, Ray, Ray..."

"Unhm?"

"I thought we could rest here for a few days. There's fishing nearby, the game is good, and we need to give your skin a little time to heal. The dim lighting of an igloo's interior and the keeping of your skin exposed to the warm still air between regular applications of emollient are traditional Inuit remedies for what is actually a quite common..."

Mmmm. That little piece of fur smelled like salve.

"...crossing the sound the ice will be much more reliable after the front moves through the..."

"Frase?"

"Yes, Ray?"

"We're gonna laze around here for a while and you put salve on me until everything's better."

"That's about the size of it, Ray."

"Greatness. Frase?"

"Yes?"

"I think there's sand under my eyelids. It is like a death weapon."

"That's snow blindness, Ray. Just keep your eyes closed until it feels better."

But then Fraser made food and there is no way you can keep your eyes closed when you are trying to cut rubbery seal with a camp knife. So that was an ow. And then it was salve time, so he had to watch how things were going with the Fungus of Terror, and he could feel his eyeballs moving which was all weird and wrong and ow ow ow "Fraser, can you sprain your eyeballs?"

"Hold still, Ray. Close your eyes."

Salve smell. Mmm. Really strong. Wow. Vap-o-rub as a controlled substance. Something soft and heavy on his eyes. Bandages. No more moving, eyes. Sleeping now.

He half woke to feel Fraser's hands stroking salve into him. Mmm. Fraser made us an igloo. Food later. Don't have to try with the knife. Sleep now.

Later on it smelled like food. Which was great, he was hungry. Ray ate a chunk of seal, which tasted even better now he couldn't see that seal was kind of gray. He chewed ecstatically. Warm grease ran down his chin. Mmm. Fraser. Fraser rubbing grease across his lips and cheeks.

"It's all right, Ray. Grease is actually the best thing for your skin right now." More warm oily feeling over his face and chest. No more tight itchy feeling. Ray rolled in the warm furs while his partner stroked him. Wow. A whole thought-free lifestyle.

Later a warm feeling came by. Lamp. Dark. Snow over the window.

"Storm?"

"Yes."

"Dogs good?"

"Safe under the snow for the duration. As shall we be. Shall I read a little?"

"Uhmn."

Pages rustled. Fraser's voice droned.

...After having my hands in it for only a few minutes, my fingers felt like eels, and began, as it were, to serpentine and spiralize. As I sat there at my ease, cross-legged on the deck; after the bitter exertion at the windlass; under a blue tranquil sky; the ship under indolent sail, and gliding so serenely along...I declare to you, that for the time I lived as in a musky meadow; I forgot all about our horrible oath; in that inexpressible sperm, I washed my hands and my heart of it; I almost began to credit the old Paracelsan superstition that sperm is of rare virtue in allaying the heat of anger: while bathing in that bath, I felt divinely free from all ill-will, or petulence, or malice, of any sort whatsoever...I squeezed that sperm till a strange sort of insanity came over me; and I found myself unwittingly squeezing my co-laborers' hands...such an abounding, affectionate, friendly, loving feeling did this avocation beget; that at last I was continually squeezing their hands, and looking up into their eyes sentimentally; as much as to say, -Oh! my dear fellow beings, why should we longer cherish any social acerbities, or know the slightest ill-humor or envy! Come; let us squeeze hands all round; nay, let us all squeeze ourselves into each other; let us squeeze ourselves universally into the very milk and sperm of kindness...

Salve smell. Warm seal. Leaning against Fraser now, warm hands stroking his ribs. Tight feeling slipping away, good feeling coming. Belly rubbing. That's the best. Little moaning noises. Pushing up. More more. The hands slipping lower. Oh. New feeling. Warm. Hot. Push, push. How long since...Yes. Push. Arch, stretch. More more. Yes. He poured long spouts of come over Fraser's hands and fell instantly asleep.

The next time he was lying flat on his back wrapped in furs with Fraser's hands slipping under to stroke him slowly, salve at first, and then when he was good and warm and the smell...Oh the smell was great and the furs were back and the warm oil was like it was him melting in the heat from the lamp which he could feel over there now, he could feel everything, the warm oil dribbling down lower, lower until he opened his legs and let Fraser fill the hollows of his hips with warm seal oil and stroke him and stroke him and do something else all warm and wet until he came and just after he felt something new dripping across his thighs and was glad.

Ray staggered out of the igloo some days later feeling much better. The sun was dazzlingly bright. He rubbed oily ashes into the hollows of his eyes and adjusted his new goggles. They were like blinders, letting in only a narrow field of vision, but somehow he could get used to this. He could see a lot better if he didn't have to see too much at a time. He looked around. The world was in focus again. Him and Frase with the dogs and the sled in the clean empty middle of nowhere, a couple of guys who worked hard and played hard kicking around having an Arctic adventure. A thick coat of hard new snow covered over everything, looking like diamonds.

They made a good run. The dogs were crazed to run after all the time cooped up under the snow, and Ray felt just exactly like one of the dogs. He ran beside the sled and behind the sled and then ahead of the sled with a pole, testing anything that looked suspicious and dueling occasional imaginary enemies with the pole straight out in front of him.

In the evening that was not an evening they got out to the sound. Ray wanted to keep going but Fraser said it would be sad to miss this chance to put out a couple of lines, so they stopped and fed the dogs and set up a place for ice fishing. Ray knew the whole thing was really Fraser worrying about thin ice. He fed the dogs anyway. Fraser puttered around the edge of the ice doing testy things, for fucking ever. Ray tried to control his impatience. He knew only one sure way of testing thin ice, and Fraser was heavier than him. At least Fraser had made a hole for fishing...okay, not really a hole. Calling it a hole would be too ambitious. It was more of an opening. But enough for a Fraser-style fishing expedition.

"Ray, do you like fish?"

Master of the freaking obvious. Ray squinted irately at Fraser through his snow goggles. "Yeah, Fraser, I like fish. You know I like fish. Fish are great."

"Well, that's very good, Ray. Because I've hooked quite a large fish," said Fraser, and then he pitched forward onto his face and started sliding across the ice toward the opening.

Ray grabbed him by reflex while his conscious mind was still working out a comeback to what must be a joke, because what the hell could you catch that could hurt you through an opening this small...then Fraser lurched forward again with a grunt, taking Ray with him, and terror kicked in and he knotted his arms around Fraser like grim death, dug his feet into the ice and held on.

The whole thing took forever, give or take twenty minutes. They slithered forward. Ray got his feet under him again and leaned back until his joints cracked. Come on, come on, come on Fraser...and then he could feel Frase get to his feet finally, fucking finally I could use some help here asshole before I crash and fail and kill us both and the sudden lurch of Fraser, solid muscle launching back at him like a freaking tank and suddenly there was nothing to pull against, nothing holding him up, and Ray's feet went out from under him and he landed on his ass in the snow. And the whole fucking thing started over. They were sliding again, toward the tiny opening that had suddenly become a huge crack in the world, how the hell did that happen? They were gonna go through, going to drown, and Ray felt the sudden burst of panic large bodies of water always inspired in him plus freezing to death, drowning and freezing and being eaten by some horrible monster all at the same time, oh Jesus God...and suddenly he had enough. He slammed his boots down with the insane clarity of mind he sometimes wished he ever had when he was not really, really close to dying. The momentum propelled him back up onto his feet and halfway past Fraser. He slung around hard, ducking his head and shoulder-slamming into Fraser's chest. They both lurched backward away from death in opposite directions, and something changed. The fish wasn't pulling anymore. Fraser was still holding on to the line, and the line was still taut.

"Let go let go let go let go let go!" Ray screamed. Fraser didn't let go. Ray lunged toward him, grabbing for the line, and the ground went out from under him. The ground went out from under him. He was still standing up. On thin ice. Ray stared at the line in Fraser's hands. It was slackening fast. The ice tilted again, then Fraser's side dived straight down toward nothing.

Ray Kowalski's life did not flash before his eyes. If he could have thought, he would have thought that was a good thing, because he sure as hell did not need Stella yelling at him about this right now. But time slowed down, way way down into absolute leisure time. He saw the sled and the dogs and the long safe sweep of bank where Dief stood, trembling, next to a plant Ray had never noticed before in all the time they'd been out here, a plant just one long step straight down from his left boot, rooted in the solid ground, with a little tiny flower like a daisy. Just step off. Easy. But his body was already running for Fraser, faster than he had ever run in his life. And his brain, left far behind staring downslope at the top of Fraser's hat, said thinly, hey, hero, if you were really a smart guy you would have run away from him in the opposite direction.

With his extra weight on that side the ice went Titanic and Ray took the altitude and jumped. He hit Fraser with all the force that was in him, will and gravity and sheer pissed-offness, hoping like hell that it hurt and that Fraser would grab him because otherwise they would die. Then they were on solid ice. Not dying. Then something huge and slimy hit Ray hard in the back, and he was skittering off across the ice like this was a fucking game, like they were curling or something and Dief and Fraser and solid ground and when he came to himself he was punching the lights out of the ugliest fish in the world.

It was huge. It was unbelievably big. It had lips. It had an obscene long thick eel of a body and nasty sharp teeth everywhere and it was staring at him out of its huge staring eyes, and it was huge, and it was staring, and its blood was red which was all wrong only maybe that was Ray's blood, and the worst thing except for the lips and the sheer wrongness of its bigness was, it was white.. And the line in its mouth connecting it to Fraser. Ray punched it a couple more times for good measure, then he stood up and walked off and freaked out.

He was coming back for another round, this time with kicking, when Fraser grabbed him.

"Ray. It's dead. Ray. Ray, Ray, Ray..."

"WHY DIDN'T YOU LET IT GO?"

"Once the ice cracked, the weight of the fish was balancing..."

"WHY DIDN'T YOU LET IT GO?"

Fraser looked at him with an inscrutable expression. A couple of times it looked like he was going to say something, but didn't. Then he said, "You said you liked fish."

This is how Ray hit Fraser the second time. Later, he would admit to himself that hitting probably was not a good idea. But by then it was too late, neither of them knew how to get out of it.