Ice and Ash

Leo woke to the sound of howling wind and the frantic scrape of branches against the cabin's roof. He sat up, disoriented, his heart pounding. For a moment, he couldn't remember where he was. Then it all came rushing back – the murder, the chase, the brooding FBI agent who'd dragged him out here to the middle of fucking nowhere.

He swung his legs out of bed, wincing at the cold floorboards under his bare feet. He'd slept in his clothes, too wired to even take off his boots. His mouth felt like it was lined with cotton, his eyes gritty and raw.

The main room was empty, the fire reduced to embers. A glance out the window made Leo's breath catch. Snow fell in thick sheets, piling up against the glass. The world outside was a swirling white void, the trees mere smudges in the storm.

"Fuck me," Leo muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. They were snowed in. Trapped. With no end in sight.

The bathroom door opened and Cole emerged, shirtless, a towel slung around his neck. Leo's gaze snagged on the broad planes of his chest, the defined ridges of his abs. A faint dusting of dark hair trailed down his stomach and disappeared into the waistband of his sweats.

Leo looked away quickly, but not before heat climbed his cheeks. "Nice of you to warn me about the blizzard."

Cole shrugged, seemingly unfazed by the weather or his state of undress. "Forecast said it might clip us. Guess it decided to hit us head-on."

"Guess so." Leo swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way Cole's muscles flexed as he pulled on a thermal shirt. "Any idea how long we'll be stuck here?"

"Long enough." Cole crossed to the kitchenette and started opening cabinets. "Storm's supposed to last at least another day. Could be longer before the roads are cleared."

"Great." Leo flopped onto the sofa, running a hand through his tangled hair. "Just what I always wanted. A snowbound vacation with my very own FBI escort."

Cole shot him a look over his shoulder. "You'd rather be out there with a killer on your tail?"

"At least it would be exciting." Leo stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing his ankles. "This place is like a sensory deprivation chamber. No TV, no internet, no booze... how do you stand it?"

"I manage." Cole set a pot of water on the small stove. "I don't need constant stimulation to function."

"Clearly." Leo watched him move about the kitchen, his motions economical and precise. "You're like a robot. All work and no play."

Cole's jaw tightened. "My work is important. I take it seriously."

"So do I." Leo bristled, sitting up straighter. "I take my work very seriously. But I also know how to have a little fun. You should try it sometime."

"I have fun." Cole pulled two mugs from a cabinet. "Just not with uncooperative witnesses who don't know when to keep their mouths shut."

"Oh, ouch." Leo clutched his chest dramatically. "You wound me, Agent Cole."

"It's Asher." Cole scooped instant coffee into the mugs. "If we're going to be stuck here together, you might as well use my first name."

"Asher." Leo rolled the name on his tongue. It suited him. Strong. Solid. "Does anyone call you Ash?"

Cole's expression darkened. "Not if they want to keep their teeth."

"Touchy." Leo held up his hands in surrender. "Asher it is."

The water on the stove started to boil. Cole filled the mugs and handed one to Leo. Their fingers brushed, a brief, electric contact that sent a jolt up Leo's arm.

"Thanks." He took a sip, grimacing at the bitter taste. "This is terrible."

"It's hot and it's caffeinated." Cole leaned against the counter, cradling his own mug. "Beggars can't be choosers."

"Fair point." Leo took another sip, forcing it down. "So what's the plan, Asher? We just sit here twiddling our thumbs until the storm passes?"

"That's the general idea." Cole's gaze drifted to the window, where the snow continued to fall. "We lay low, stay off the radar. Backup will come for us when it's safe."

"And in the meantime, what? We play cards? Tell ghost stories?" Leo quirked a brow. "I'm great at charades."

The corner of Cole's mouth twitched. "I think I'll pass." He set his mug down. "I'm going to check the perimeter. Stay inside."

"Wouldn't dream of going out in this," Leo drawled, gesturing at the window. "I prefer my toes without frostbite, thanks."

Cole nodded shortly and headed for the door, pulling on his heavy winter coat and gloves. He stepped outside, the wind howling as he slipped into the whiteout.

Leo watched him go, then sighed and leaned back against the sofa cushions. He stared into the fire, his mind wandering. He thought about the story he was missing, the leads he wasn't chasing. He thought about Kline's killer, still out there somewhere. And he thought about Asher Cole, with his icy blue eyes and brick wall demeanor.

"He's hiding something," Leo murmured to the empty room. He'd seen it in the way Cole's expression shuttered when Leo asked about his past. Heard it in the tightness of his voice when he mentioned his work. There was a weight there, a burden he carried. One Leo couldn't help but want to uncover.

He didn't know how long Cole was gone. Time seemed to stretch and distort in the isolation of the cabin. When the agent finally returned, he was coated in snow, his cheeks red from the cold.

"No sign of trouble," he said, stamping his boots on the mat. "But visibility is shit. Anyone could be out there and we'd never see them coming."

"Comforting." Leo stood and stretched, his muscles stiff from sitting. "You hungry? I make a mean grilled cheese."

Cole shed his coat and hung it by the door. "I suppose you're going to tell me you're a Michelin-starred chef in your spare time."

"Would you believe me if I did?" Leo headed into the kitchenette, rummaging through the cabinets. "Aha!" He pulled out a half-empty bag of bread and a few packets of processed cheese. "Sustenance."

Cole watched from the doorway as Leo buttered the bread and slapped together a couple of sandwiches. "You're a man of many talents, Vance."

"You have no idea." Leo slid the sandwiches into a pan and set them on the stove. "So tell me, Asher. What do you do for fun? Besides chasing bad guys and babysitting journalists."

Cole was silent for a long moment. "I read," he said finally. "History, mostly. Biographies. Things that remind me the world is bigger than the shit I deal with every day."

"Huh." Leo flipped the sandwiches, the bread sizzling in the pan. "I wouldn't have pegged you for a reader."

"Why? Because I carry a gun and scowl a lot?" Cole's tone was dry. "You shouldn't judge a book by its cover, Vance."

"Fair enough." Leo slid the sandwiches onto plates and carried them to the small table. "What else? Any hobbies? Secret passions?"

Cole took a seat across from him. "I run. Lift weights. The usual." He picked up his sandwich and took a bite. "This is good," he said around a mouthful.

"See? I'm not entirely useless." Leo grinned and bit into his own sandwich. They ate in companionable silence, the wind howling outside. When they were finished, Cole carried the plates to the sink and started washing up.

"You don't have to do that," Leo said, joining him at the counter. "I can clean up after myself."

"Humor me." Cole handed him a towel to dry. "I like to keep busy."

Leo took the towel, his fingers brushing Cole's. Another spark of electricity arced between them. Leo cleared his throat and looked away, focusing on drying the plate in his hands.

"So why the FBI?" he asked, trying to fill the awkward silence. "What made you want to be a Fed?"

Cole's shoulders tensed, the muscles in his back going rigid. "I told you, I like my work."

"Right." Leo set the dry plate on the counter. "But there's got to be more to it than that. Some deep, dark motivation. A tragic backstory. A thirst for justice."

Cole shut off the water and turned to face him. "You're awfully curious about my personal life, Vance."

Leo met his gaze evenly. "We're stuck in a cabin together in the middle of a blizzard. Forgive me for trying to make conversation."

Cole studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, some of the tension draining from his frame. "My sister," he said quietly. "She was killed by a stray bullet in a gang shooting when I was fifteen. The shooter was never caught."

"Fuck." Leo's breath left him in a rush. "Asher... I'm sorry. I didn't know."