Cold As Ice

Frozen

It had been twenty days since Maverick left the carrier when Ice walked into the cafeteria. While he was walking to their usual table, he noticed that the atmosphere had a weird vibe. He glanced around to try to figure out what was going on, and when he saw the first man opening his letter, he sighed internally and immediately changed direction.

It was mail day and while he had had still hope at the previous mail day (that was two weeks ago), now he didn't want to deal with everyone being happy and glad about their letters so he walked to the far end of the room, sitting on a bench on his own. He ate methodically even if he had lost all appetite since day twelve. Someone put his plate on the other side of the table and Ice sent him a frosty look.

"I'm sorry, there wasn't any bench left and I just wanted to sit here instead of in between all the other happy men, as I have no letters to read," the younger man murmured but he picked his plate up again, shoulders slumped. Ice sighed a bit and rasped his throat, which was severely underused.

"It's ok," he just said and told the boy with a flick of his eyes that he could sit there if he wanted. The boy thanked him with a small smile and plonked on the seat.

For a few moments they just sat, but Ice saw that the boy was very anxious to ask something. Ice knew he had gotten many looks in the past weeks, especially when he began wearing his gloves on day ten, but he had ignored them and just went on with his days, eating, sleeping, training, sometimes a short hop or longer mission, getting back, sleeping, eating, etcetera. This boy was however not really looking at Ice with that same glance as the others and Ice looked a bit better at him. The boy was really just a boy, looking like being before his twenties. His black hair was a bit longer but now tucked in a tiny ponytail at the back of his neck. Ice tried to think if he had seen the boy before.

"You new here?" he asked, clearly surprising the boy, who almost dropped his fork because of it. The boy nodded and extended his hand to Ice.

"I'm Ryan Sandling, arrived here yesterday morning to help on deck," he said as Ice shook his hand tentatively. He didn't announce himself, as his name would make Ryan know he was the one with the MiG's and he really had no energy to answer a thousand questions. Ryan didn't seem to mind as he was focused on Ice's long gloves. They were thin, light blue, delicate gloves but perfect for their use, which was preventing anybody to see the ice that kept covering his hands since day nine until Ice had bought the gloves to mask it only a day later. The ice was still there, but at least no one saw it this way. Sometimes the ice appeared on his gloves as well, but that luckily didn't happen that often.

"Do you wear these gloves often?" Ryan asked, while still eying them curiously. Ice felt a bit flustered by his curious glance but nodded sternly.

"You should; they are really pretty," the boy said as a matter-of-fact and Ice was actually pretty taken aback by that. He blinked a few times, but cocked a smile, his first real smile in many days.

"Thank you," he said softly and he averted his gaze to his food. Ryan kept silent after that. The room was pretty silent on the whole, the most silent it could be, as everyone was intently reading their letters. Sometimes a tiny sob filled the air, but that wasn't strange and allowed for everyone, since they were sturdy and stalwart fighter pilots, but they were human as well.

After breakfast, Ice usually bolted out of the room as fast as he could, but now Slider managed to slip next to Ryan, who was also just on the cusp of leaving, before Ice could go away.

"Hey Ice, can I get more than two words out of you today?" Slider's tone was light, but his eyes told a different story. The first few days after Maverick had left, Ice had tried everything to go after him and Slider being the responsible voice in his ear was the only thing that prevented him from stealing a plane and flying to the mainland himself. After the debacle of breaking into the control room to get to the only phone on the carrier (which was for absolute and utter emergencies and therefore almost never used and, apparently, broken) and the first mail day, which left Ice totally hopeless and devastated, Slider tried to look out for him, but Ice didn't let him anymore. His coldness would blow over, he would be fine. He cut everyone out of his inner circle. Yes, he was at all the meals, but almost always kept dead silent and cold. The others didn't pry, but Ice couldn't miss the worrying glances they sent each other whenever a joke fell flat on Ice again. In the air he communicated, but not more than necessary and it seemed like Slider had had finally enough of it.