Let It Snow (Prompt 2 - Matt Seely)

[dragonessasmith.livejournal.com]

Title: Let It Snow
Author: dragonessasmith
Rating: T
fic_variations Prompt/Claim: Fashion // Matt Seely
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Cold
Count: 3/10
Author's Notes: I really don't know where this came from, except for the fact that we're in the middle of a huge heat wave here. Besides that, I think I just like having Matt in mortal peril.



What little light he'd woken up with had slowly dissapeared as the snow continued to pile up against the cellar doors. Give it another hour, he guessed, maybe two, there would be no more light. As it was, he had given up on trying to scrape away some of it, his fingers raw and bloody from past efforts.

It was getting darker, and colder, and a glance at his watch puts the time at half past four in the afternoon, which doesn't bode well for the rest of the night. It also reveals the fact that a small black spider had crawled onto his hand, without ever calling any attention to itself. He flicked it away, pulling his hands in towards his chest, trying to bend his fingers.

Seven moved.

He stared at his left ring finger, his right middle finger, and his right pinky. The seriousness of the situation started to sink in. The hopelessness. The stupidity. He'd always been a glutton for punishment. He'd always gotten into situations like this, but before he'd always managed to get out as well.

It didn't look like he'd be so lucky this time.

He should have made her walk in front of him. He should have kept a closer eye on her, should have noticed the crow bar before it hit the back of his head, knocking him out and down the steps, into the darkness.

A loud howl reinforced the memory, and he shivered violently. He could feel the wind through the doors, through the horse blanket he'd found and wrapped around his shoulders, through his jacket and shirt and undershirt and skin.

He shook his head, trying to concentrate. He couldn't give up. That was the main thing. Tucking his knees closer in, he squeezed his hands between his thighs. He wasn't going to give up. Someone would find him. They had to.

It was half an hour after he'd given up that the cellar doors were pried open, Nigel and Dr. Macy rushing down the steps with two cops with guns barely ahead of them. He woke up when one of the paramedics slipped on an icy patch, jostling him into consciousness.

"Nige..." He groaned as they lifted him into the ambulance.

"Don't move, you're going to be fine, okay? Is he going to be fine?" Nigel adds to the paramedic, in a low voice he seems to think Matt can't hear.

The man gives Nigel a desperate look over Matt's head as the doors slammed. "We'll have to wait and see."

"Nige..."

"Matt?"

"Keep him talking." The paramedic urged.

"What is it Matt?"

"Cold. I'm...cold."

"I know, okay, I know." Nigel's voice was soft, and far away. "You're almost frozen through. You let that crazy woman nearly turn you into a popsicle."

"Copsicle." He mutters to himself, and he can't stop laughing.

Nigel gave the paramedic another worried look, as the ambulance sped through the snow.