Chaos Fic- A Better Ending- Part 1
Title: A Better Ending
Author: sockie1000
Characters: Michael, Billy
Rating: G
Genre: Hurt/comfort, drama, angst
Summary: Michael doesn’t have time to think, doesn’t have time to curse, doesn’t have time to do anything before Billy suddenly slips through the ice and disappears into the depths.
Warnings: none
Spoilers: none
Word Count: not quite 11,000
Betas: faye-dartmouth and cokie316
Author's Notes: I saw a piece on the news about how to survive if you fall through the ice into water and naturally, my first response was, “Billy needs to do that!” Thus, this story. Thanks to Faye for keeping me at it-- this turned out much longer than I planned.
Also, this story is set early is season 1, when Rick is still relatively new.
Potsed in multiple parts because LJ wants to make things difficult.
~~~~~
Michael has always hated “It’s a Wonderful Life.”
And not for the same reason as other people who dislike the movie.
It isn’t because it is depressing for the vast majority of the story. Life is often depressing and he has nothing against realism. He recognizes that things are what they are and no amount of sugar-coating is ever going to change cold, hard facts. It is one of the reasons he gets along well with Casey.
It isn’t because the story uses angels and divine intervention to save the day. Michael has been in too many impossible situations where death is imminent to doubt the impact of a little help from above and he has no problem watching other people receive the same consideration. Which is why he doesn’t bat an eye any time Rick mumbles a plea under his breath when they are pinned down, under fire, and all looks lost.
And it isn’t because the movie wraps three hours of generally depressive misery up with an optimistic bow at the end. Sure, it is unrealistic that the bank examiner would tear up an arrest warrant and that everyone in town would show up giving away a basketful of money and jewelry. But still, it is a comforting thought-- that when everything looks bleak, there could still be a happy ending, surrounded by family and friends, complete with a toast and song. It actually reminds him of some of the missions the ODS has completed, where disaster looked almost certain but in the end, they made it and celebrated their good luck at a local bar with Billy hoisting his ice-cold ale into the air and leading them in a salute to the mission MVP.
No, those aren’t the reasons.
The real reason Michael hates the movie is simply because it hits too close to home.
When he was thirteen, his friend, Steven Ellis, fell through a thin spot of ice while they are playing hockey on a frozen lake. While the other boys were transfixed, their minds and bodies paralyzed by fear, not knowing what to do next, Michael, ever the leader, had acted. He laid down on his belly and reached out to Steven, who was desperately trying to keep his head above water, his arms flailing. All these years later, Michael can still hear his screams punctuated by temporary dips below the surface, where he gulped in gallons of ice water as he gasped desperately for breath.
In the end, it didn’t matter that Michael had pulled him out. Hypothermia sets in quickly in frigid water and unless you get out almost immediately, the chances of survival are slim. But at thirteen years old, Michael didn’t know that. And four days later at Steven’s funeral, all Michael could think about was how he should have done something differently-gotten him out quicker, warmed him up faster. And about how he would gladly trade the hearing in his left ear if only Steven was still alive.
Steven’s death was a turning point for Michael. Now he knew what he wanted to do with his life-to become a doctor-- because he would never allow himself to be that powerless again. But by the time he went to college, it became apparent that Michael would never make it through medical school. He was smart enough, that is for sure, and he had the skills. But much like George Bailey, he was too restless, too eager to get outside and seek adventure in the world. He would never make it spending his life confined by four walls. So two years in, Michael changed his major and never looked back.
But there is one thing he has kept with him, one thing he’s studied over, time and time again since that fateful January day, until it was seared into his brain. It is unnecessary, of course. There was nothing Michael could have done differently and the odds of the same thing happening again are astronomically low. But that doesn’t stop him from going over it periodically. Later, when Fay would find him poring over the latest research on hypothermia from the AMA, she would sympathetically shake her head and sadly say that if nothing else, it was nice to be able to pinpoint the exact moment when Michael became paranoid.
But Michael prefers to think of himself more as being prepared for anything as opposed to being paranoid. It has a much nicer ring to it and makes him sound more like a helpful Boy Scout than a borderline nutcase. Plus, it’s true. You never know when you are going to need something; when random, obscure knowledge could be the difference between life and death.
Like now.
When Michael doesn’t have time to think, doesn’t have time to curse, doesn’t have time to do anything before Billy suddenly slips through the ice and disappears into the depths.
**
They are running from an irate group of terrorist-funding drug dealers in northeastern Belarus. Not that the details matter all that much; they always seem to be running from a group of gun-wielding criminals who are unhappy with their interference. At least, they are when a mission gets busted to hell, which doesn’t happen often but far more frequently than Michael would prefer.
And busted it was. Which was why they weren’t running directly for the car. The compound was isolated but equidistant from several towns. And the mission was compromised enough already without picking up a tail and leading them back to the ODS’ base camp. Their best option was to lose the men on foot.
Casey has the intel and is running point in a circuitous route, followed by Rick and then Billy, with Michael bringing up the rear. Snow has been falling steadily since midnight when they infiltrated the compound, but now it is picking up, bringing the outdoors close to white-out conditions. The large snowflakes driven by the harsh wind cut at their eyes, the white glare from the ground almost blinding. The depth of the snow is challenging, making walking difficult and running nearly downright impossible. Still, they press on, trying to put as much distance as possible between them and their foes.
After an hour, Michael calls for Casey to stop. The ODS huddles together, turning their backs to the howling wind as they bring their scarfs down from around their mouths to talk.
“Think we lost them?” Rick asks, his breath coming out in white puffs.
“Yes.” Michael nods, feeling fairly confident, as he pulls a satellite GPS device out of his pocket. He quickly navigates the screen, thankful he purchased a pair of touch screen gloves before coming on the mission. Still, his hands shake from the cold as he pulls up their coordinates and squints at the screen, the glare from the snow making it hard to see. “Our car is a half a mile away, due east.”
Billy nods. “Shall we?” he asks, then pulls his muffler securely up over his mouth and nose.
Michael returns his nod and does the same, burying his hand back in his pockets as quickly as possible. He looks at Casey and jerks his head to the left, indicating the necessary route. Casey understands what he means and takes point as they break their huddle and fall back into position.
Michael remains vigilant, watching their backs as they go, trying to make sure they are in the clear.
It never occurs to him that the greatest danger lays straight ahead.
**
The small expanse looks like all the others they have crossed since they fled Soudiski’s compound. It could be a field or a small lake; covered in a foot of snow it is hard to tell and either one is just as likely as the other. They are halfway across before something goes wrong.
First, Michael hears a gunshot.
He whips around, drawing his gun and dropping to a crouch, ready to fire. But nobody is behind him. He curses and scans the tree line, looking for the drug dealers, when he hears another shot, this one louder than before. He ducks and flinches before he realizes the sound isn’t coming from the tree line at all; instead, it is coming from behind him. From where the rest of the ODS is, running ahead of him toward the car. Which means…
The sound isn’t a gunshot at all.
It’s breaking ice.
And Michael whirls around just in time to see Billy go under.
**
It’s déjà vu.
Except it isn’t exactly déjà vu, Michael realizes. If it was, everything would to be the same and it’s not. But it’s close enough.
A different country. A different lake. But still a friend falling into icy water.
And this time, all Michael can do is stare.
But then as quickly as Billy goes down, he pops back up gasping, his eyes wide from the shock of the frigid water. Casey and Rick are doubling back, shouting Billy’s name, the urgency in their voices breaking Michael from his trance. He begins running toward Billy when he hears another shot crack the air. “Get down,” he yells to Rick and Casey. They immediately drop flat on the ground and the next shot is not quite so loud.
“Soudiski?” Rick questions, yells actually, over the wind as he looks up and scans the tree line.
Michael takes a quick peek back and shakes his head. “No! Ice!” Rick looks down, barely controlled fear written all over his face. But it is a fear Michael doesn’t have time to indulge, not with Billy flailing in the frigid water.
Because Billy is flailing.
Billy’s a good swimmer so falling into the water normally wouldn’t be a problem. But this isn’t ordinary water-- it’s ice water, just barely above 32 degrees. And while the crazy people in Polar Bear Clubs make diving in almost look easy, Michael knows that’s only because they’ve mentally prepared themselves ahead of time. But if you fall in by accident, the shock makes coherent thought and movement almost impossible.
In short, Billy’s not getting out without help.
Michael lays down as flat as he can, trying to evenly distribute his weight over the snow and ice, and slides toward Billy. On the other side of the hole, Casey is hastily shoveling snow away with his hands, trying to get a good look at the ice so he can identify the fault lines. It takes Rick a second to catch on, but then he begins brushing off the snow as well.
Billy, for his part, is trying to control his panic and has managed to stop flailing, which is good, but he is still hyperventilating. Michael pulls the scarf down from his face and yells, “Billy! Breathe slower!” Billy gives a half-nod, or at least Michael hopes it is a nod. Because although he knows hyperventilation in this case is the body’s automatic response, the resulting increase in body warmth will be negligible and the additional exertion isn’t going to do anything but wear Billy out more quickly.
The few seconds it takes to crawl to the ice hole seem to take forever. Although, Michael is well-aware that what seems like forever to him is easily 100 eternities to Billy, who is still trying to stay afloat and regulate his breathing. The water is now freezing to his eyebrows in icicles, reminding Michael of a drawing of Jack Frost he had seen as a kid.
Finally, Michael makes it and he reaches his hand out to Billy. “Grab on!” he yells, stretching his arm as far over the hole as he can. Billy nods but his teeth are chattering too hard to reply.
The hole isn’t large, but it is large enough that Billy will have to swim and his movements are already becoming visibly slower. Michael curses silently, knowing all too well that hypothermia is already beginning to set in, but he doesn’t let his concern show. “That’s it,” he encourages. “You’re doing great. Almost there.”
Finally, Billy makes it over and grabs Michael’s hand. Michael doesn’t waste a second and immediately pulls him to the side of the hole. He then reaches into the water, the depth of the cold almost unbearable, and pulls Billy’s other arm out of the water and places it on the ice. He quickly glances at Billy’s face, noticing that the Scot’s normally bright blue eyes are clouded and dull, before he begins pulling.
It’s working. He has Billy’s shoulders out of the water, then his chest.
But then Michael hears another shot, this time so loud he thinks it might have split his eardrum.
Then another.
Try as he might, he can’t keep his hold on Billy as the ice splits in two beneath the Scot. And as Michael’s grip slips, there is nothing he can do but watch as his friend disappears back under again.
**
For a moment, Michael’s heart stands still.
Then Billy, ever resilient, comes back up. He doesn’t pop up quite as quickly as he did the first time, the cold beginning to take a toll on his strength. Still, he’s up. Gasping and beginning to panic again, but still there and not giving up.
And Michael won’t give up, either.
The problem is, the ice underneath him is too weak to support Billy’s weight. Protocol dictates that you should always climb out the same direction that you came from, that the ice there would be stronger. But that is clearly not the case today. As Michael hastily brushes away the snow and looks down at the fault lines, he realizes he is lucky it is even supporting him. They will get Billy out, Michael is certain of it, but not in this direction.
He glances across the gaping hole to Casey and Rick on the other side. “I’m sending him to you,” he yells. Casey nods, implicitly understanding Michael’s thought process. He quickly spread eagles on the ground across the hole and Rick gets down behind him, doing the same and grabbing ahold of Casey’s ankles to provide additional leverage.
Billy is still bobbing in the water, not three feet from Michael. But three feet has never seemed so far away. Michael stretches out his right arm, trying to reach Billy to give him a helpful shove in Casey’s direction, but he comes up short. He scoots closer to the edge, now precariously balanced and using all of his upper body strength to avoid falling in, but still comes up empty.
There is only one way this is going to work; only one way to get Billy out.
And Michael knows it.
So he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and slides in.
**
Part 2
Author: sockie1000
Characters: Michael, Billy
Rating: G
Genre: Hurt/comfort, drama, angst
Summary: Michael doesn’t have time to think, doesn’t have time to curse, doesn’t have time to do anything before Billy suddenly slips through the ice and disappears into the depths.
Warnings: none
Spoilers: none
Word Count: not quite 11,000
Betas: faye-dartmouth and cokie316
Author's Notes: I saw a piece on the news about how to survive if you fall through the ice into water and naturally, my first response was, “Billy needs to do that!” Thus, this story. Thanks to Faye for keeping me at it-- this turned out much longer than I planned.
Also, this story is set early is season 1, when Rick is still relatively new.
Potsed in multiple parts because LJ wants to make things difficult.
~~~~~
Michael has always hated “It’s a Wonderful Life.”
And not for the same reason as other people who dislike the movie.
It isn’t because it is depressing for the vast majority of the story. Life is often depressing and he has nothing against realism. He recognizes that things are what they are and no amount of sugar-coating is ever going to change cold, hard facts. It is one of the reasons he gets along well with Casey.
It isn’t because the story uses angels and divine intervention to save the day. Michael has been in too many impossible situations where death is imminent to doubt the impact of a little help from above and he has no problem watching other people receive the same consideration. Which is why he doesn’t bat an eye any time Rick mumbles a plea under his breath when they are pinned down, under fire, and all looks lost.
And it isn’t because the movie wraps three hours of generally depressive misery up with an optimistic bow at the end. Sure, it is unrealistic that the bank examiner would tear up an arrest warrant and that everyone in town would show up giving away a basketful of money and jewelry. But still, it is a comforting thought-- that when everything looks bleak, there could still be a happy ending, surrounded by family and friends, complete with a toast and song. It actually reminds him of some of the missions the ODS has completed, where disaster looked almost certain but in the end, they made it and celebrated their good luck at a local bar with Billy hoisting his ice-cold ale into the air and leading them in a salute to the mission MVP.
No, those aren’t the reasons.
The real reason Michael hates the movie is simply because it hits too close to home.
When he was thirteen, his friend, Steven Ellis, fell through a thin spot of ice while they are playing hockey on a frozen lake. While the other boys were transfixed, their minds and bodies paralyzed by fear, not knowing what to do next, Michael, ever the leader, had acted. He laid down on his belly and reached out to Steven, who was desperately trying to keep his head above water, his arms flailing. All these years later, Michael can still hear his screams punctuated by temporary dips below the surface, where he gulped in gallons of ice water as he gasped desperately for breath.
In the end, it didn’t matter that Michael had pulled him out. Hypothermia sets in quickly in frigid water and unless you get out almost immediately, the chances of survival are slim. But at thirteen years old, Michael didn’t know that. And four days later at Steven’s funeral, all Michael could think about was how he should have done something differently-gotten him out quicker, warmed him up faster. And about how he would gladly trade the hearing in his left ear if only Steven was still alive.
Steven’s death was a turning point for Michael. Now he knew what he wanted to do with his life-to become a doctor-- because he would never allow himself to be that powerless again. But by the time he went to college, it became apparent that Michael would never make it through medical school. He was smart enough, that is for sure, and he had the skills. But much like George Bailey, he was too restless, too eager to get outside and seek adventure in the world. He would never make it spending his life confined by four walls. So two years in, Michael changed his major and never looked back.
But there is one thing he has kept with him, one thing he’s studied over, time and time again since that fateful January day, until it was seared into his brain. It is unnecessary, of course. There was nothing Michael could have done differently and the odds of the same thing happening again are astronomically low. But that doesn’t stop him from going over it periodically. Later, when Fay would find him poring over the latest research on hypothermia from the AMA, she would sympathetically shake her head and sadly say that if nothing else, it was nice to be able to pinpoint the exact moment when Michael became paranoid.
But Michael prefers to think of himself more as being prepared for anything as opposed to being paranoid. It has a much nicer ring to it and makes him sound more like a helpful Boy Scout than a borderline nutcase. Plus, it’s true. You never know when you are going to need something; when random, obscure knowledge could be the difference between life and death.
Like now.
When Michael doesn’t have time to think, doesn’t have time to curse, doesn’t have time to do anything before Billy suddenly slips through the ice and disappears into the depths.
**
They are running from an irate group of terrorist-funding drug dealers in northeastern Belarus. Not that the details matter all that much; they always seem to be running from a group of gun-wielding criminals who are unhappy with their interference. At least, they are when a mission gets busted to hell, which doesn’t happen often but far more frequently than Michael would prefer.
And busted it was. Which was why they weren’t running directly for the car. The compound was isolated but equidistant from several towns. And the mission was compromised enough already without picking up a tail and leading them back to the ODS’ base camp. Their best option was to lose the men on foot.
Casey has the intel and is running point in a circuitous route, followed by Rick and then Billy, with Michael bringing up the rear. Snow has been falling steadily since midnight when they infiltrated the compound, but now it is picking up, bringing the outdoors close to white-out conditions. The large snowflakes driven by the harsh wind cut at their eyes, the white glare from the ground almost blinding. The depth of the snow is challenging, making walking difficult and running nearly downright impossible. Still, they press on, trying to put as much distance as possible between them and their foes.
After an hour, Michael calls for Casey to stop. The ODS huddles together, turning their backs to the howling wind as they bring their scarfs down from around their mouths to talk.
“Think we lost them?” Rick asks, his breath coming out in white puffs.
“Yes.” Michael nods, feeling fairly confident, as he pulls a satellite GPS device out of his pocket. He quickly navigates the screen, thankful he purchased a pair of touch screen gloves before coming on the mission. Still, his hands shake from the cold as he pulls up their coordinates and squints at the screen, the glare from the snow making it hard to see. “Our car is a half a mile away, due east.”
Billy nods. “Shall we?” he asks, then pulls his muffler securely up over his mouth and nose.
Michael returns his nod and does the same, burying his hand back in his pockets as quickly as possible. He looks at Casey and jerks his head to the left, indicating the necessary route. Casey understands what he means and takes point as they break their huddle and fall back into position.
Michael remains vigilant, watching their backs as they go, trying to make sure they are in the clear.
It never occurs to him that the greatest danger lays straight ahead.
**
The small expanse looks like all the others they have crossed since they fled Soudiski’s compound. It could be a field or a small lake; covered in a foot of snow it is hard to tell and either one is just as likely as the other. They are halfway across before something goes wrong.
First, Michael hears a gunshot.
He whips around, drawing his gun and dropping to a crouch, ready to fire. But nobody is behind him. He curses and scans the tree line, looking for the drug dealers, when he hears another shot, this one louder than before. He ducks and flinches before he realizes the sound isn’t coming from the tree line at all; instead, it is coming from behind him. From where the rest of the ODS is, running ahead of him toward the car. Which means…
The sound isn’t a gunshot at all.
It’s breaking ice.
And Michael whirls around just in time to see Billy go under.
**
It’s déjà vu.
Except it isn’t exactly déjà vu, Michael realizes. If it was, everything would to be the same and it’s not. But it’s close enough.
A different country. A different lake. But still a friend falling into icy water.
And this time, all Michael can do is stare.
But then as quickly as Billy goes down, he pops back up gasping, his eyes wide from the shock of the frigid water. Casey and Rick are doubling back, shouting Billy’s name, the urgency in their voices breaking Michael from his trance. He begins running toward Billy when he hears another shot crack the air. “Get down,” he yells to Rick and Casey. They immediately drop flat on the ground and the next shot is not quite so loud.
“Soudiski?” Rick questions, yells actually, over the wind as he looks up and scans the tree line.
Michael takes a quick peek back and shakes his head. “No! Ice!” Rick looks down, barely controlled fear written all over his face. But it is a fear Michael doesn’t have time to indulge, not with Billy flailing in the frigid water.
Because Billy is flailing.
Billy’s a good swimmer so falling into the water normally wouldn’t be a problem. But this isn’t ordinary water-- it’s ice water, just barely above 32 degrees. And while the crazy people in Polar Bear Clubs make diving in almost look easy, Michael knows that’s only because they’ve mentally prepared themselves ahead of time. But if you fall in by accident, the shock makes coherent thought and movement almost impossible.
In short, Billy’s not getting out without help.
Michael lays down as flat as he can, trying to evenly distribute his weight over the snow and ice, and slides toward Billy. On the other side of the hole, Casey is hastily shoveling snow away with his hands, trying to get a good look at the ice so he can identify the fault lines. It takes Rick a second to catch on, but then he begins brushing off the snow as well.
Billy, for his part, is trying to control his panic and has managed to stop flailing, which is good, but he is still hyperventilating. Michael pulls the scarf down from his face and yells, “Billy! Breathe slower!” Billy gives a half-nod, or at least Michael hopes it is a nod. Because although he knows hyperventilation in this case is the body’s automatic response, the resulting increase in body warmth will be negligible and the additional exertion isn’t going to do anything but wear Billy out more quickly.
The few seconds it takes to crawl to the ice hole seem to take forever. Although, Michael is well-aware that what seems like forever to him is easily 100 eternities to Billy, who is still trying to stay afloat and regulate his breathing. The water is now freezing to his eyebrows in icicles, reminding Michael of a drawing of Jack Frost he had seen as a kid.
Finally, Michael makes it and he reaches his hand out to Billy. “Grab on!” he yells, stretching his arm as far over the hole as he can. Billy nods but his teeth are chattering too hard to reply.
The hole isn’t large, but it is large enough that Billy will have to swim and his movements are already becoming visibly slower. Michael curses silently, knowing all too well that hypothermia is already beginning to set in, but he doesn’t let his concern show. “That’s it,” he encourages. “You’re doing great. Almost there.”
Finally, Billy makes it over and grabs Michael’s hand. Michael doesn’t waste a second and immediately pulls him to the side of the hole. He then reaches into the water, the depth of the cold almost unbearable, and pulls Billy’s other arm out of the water and places it on the ice. He quickly glances at Billy’s face, noticing that the Scot’s normally bright blue eyes are clouded and dull, before he begins pulling.
It’s working. He has Billy’s shoulders out of the water, then his chest.
But then Michael hears another shot, this time so loud he thinks it might have split his eardrum.
Then another.
Try as he might, he can’t keep his hold on Billy as the ice splits in two beneath the Scot. And as Michael’s grip slips, there is nothing he can do but watch as his friend disappears back under again.
**
For a moment, Michael’s heart stands still.
Then Billy, ever resilient, comes back up. He doesn’t pop up quite as quickly as he did the first time, the cold beginning to take a toll on his strength. Still, he’s up. Gasping and beginning to panic again, but still there and not giving up.
And Michael won’t give up, either.
The problem is, the ice underneath him is too weak to support Billy’s weight. Protocol dictates that you should always climb out the same direction that you came from, that the ice there would be stronger. But that is clearly not the case today. As Michael hastily brushes away the snow and looks down at the fault lines, he realizes he is lucky it is even supporting him. They will get Billy out, Michael is certain of it, but not in this direction.
He glances across the gaping hole to Casey and Rick on the other side. “I’m sending him to you,” he yells. Casey nods, implicitly understanding Michael’s thought process. He quickly spread eagles on the ground across the hole and Rick gets down behind him, doing the same and grabbing ahold of Casey’s ankles to provide additional leverage.
Billy is still bobbing in the water, not three feet from Michael. But three feet has never seemed so far away. Michael stretches out his right arm, trying to reach Billy to give him a helpful shove in Casey’s direction, but he comes up short. He scoots closer to the edge, now precariously balanced and using all of his upper body strength to avoid falling in, but still comes up empty.
There is only one way this is going to work; only one way to get Billy out.
And Michael knows it.
So he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and slides in.
**
Part 2