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Arctic Shack

Chapter Text

"Why is there a shack in the middle of the arctic?" Jeremy asked, his brow furrowed in confusion as he turned his collar up against the wind.

James turned to him, "I don't bloody well know, I thought you and Andy set it up."

"Thought I set it up?" What on earth was James going on about? Though if he squinted, he could see another small building just past the shack. Its doors were open and inside he could see a...1967 GTO? This had to be hypothermia. There was no other way he could be seeing a shack pitched up in the arctic with a 1967 GTO.

James rolled his eyes and pointed to the garage, "Why else would there be a shack with a classic American muscle car?"

"Swear to God, James, we did not set this up," he said as he turned and started to walk back to their truck. Which wasn't there. Crikey, things were getting strange. "James," Jeremy asked.

"Yeah?" James asked as another gust of wind hit them.

"Do you see our truck?" He asked and prayed that he was just snow-blind and that James could see their truck.

James turned and looked to where there truck had been parked, "I...don't see it. Or the film crew's truck."

Just then, the door to the shack opened and a man in a bright red uniform stood there, waving them in.

"Should we go in?" Jeremy asked James, his eyes watering from the wind.

"It's either that or we stay out here," this time, James had to shout to be heard over the wind.

"Lets go in, besides, I think he's a Mountie" he said and flexed his hand against the cold.

"Even so, what are the chances of there being a Mountie this close to the arctic?" James pointed out. Sensible bastard.

"Even if he's an ax murderer, there are two of us and one of him," he pointed out and flexed his fingers again, wincing at how much it hurt. If it hurt, he reminded himself, then it was still okay - pain meant that his nerve endings still worked and he wouldn't have to have his fingers chopped off.

James nodded and took Jeremy's hand in his, "Less of a chance of being separated," he shouted over the wind.

They trudged slowly towards the shack, feet crunching in the snow and breath catching coldly in their lungs. Finally, they reached the doorway of the shack and stumbled inside. Christ, the warmth felt good.

The man in the red uniform looked them over and asked, "You can see me?"

"Of course we can see you," Jeremy replied, "why shouldn't we be able to?"

At this, the man laughed, "Most people can't. Unless they're dead and you two are most certainly not dead."

"Of course we're not dead!" James exclaimed, "We both felt just how ruddy cold it was outside. If you're dead, you can't feel anything."

"Sergeant Bob Fraser," he said and shook their hands before turning back to the wood stove. "Would you like a cup of tea?" He asked as the kettle started to whistle.

"Oh God, yes," James replied, taking off his gloves.

Sergeant Fraser put bags of tea in two mugs and poured hot water over the tea bags.

"So, what are you two boys doing up here?" He asked as he handed the hot mugs to them.

"We're in a truck racing a dogsled team to the magnetic North Pole," Jeremy replied as he took the mug, Christ, the heat felt good. He paused and then asked, "Why do you have a black 1967 GTO in your garage?"

"Oh that? That belongs to my son's boyfriend. Hopefully won't be seeing them anytime soon," he commented as he studied the fire.

"Then why do you have his car?" James asked, looking at the man quizzically.

"Because I'm dead and it was totaled," Bob stops to think, "five years ago? Yes, five years ago. They had a most unpleasant encounter with Russian mafia over Caribou hunting rights and it was blown up." He waved a hand, "Don't worry, they're okay. Visiting Kowalski's ex-wife down in Chicago, she just had her first child."

"If you're dead, how come we can see you?" James asked, his hands wrapped tightly around his mug.

At this, Bob laughed, "Most people can't see me, but you two can." A loud car horn sounded in the distance and Bob paused for a moment before saying, "It was good meeting you," as the shack melted before Jeremy's eyes.

He woke up, wrapped tightly over James, in the cab of the truck with a start. The sun was shining brightly and the inside of the truck's windscreen was covered in frost. Christ, that was a fucking weird dream, he thought sat up and shook James.

James sat up, wincing as he straightened his back, "I just had the strangest dream."

"Please don't tell me it involved a Mountie?" Jeremy begged.

James shrugged nonchalantly, "If it did, I'm sure it was just a hallucination."

"If it was just a hallucination, why are there two steaming mugs of tea in the cup holders?"

James didn't have an answer to that, "I don't know but I'm feeling better than I have since we left."

Jeremy smiled and checked the GPS, they were less than a hundred miles from their target. "Ready to beat Hammond?"

"Oh God, yes," James replied as Jeremy started the engine.

END