Where the Ice Sings

Thin Ice, Open Hearts

The cabin was quiet. The fire had burned down to embers, and the soft hum of the wind outside mingled with the faint scent of smoke.

Now that Dax had showered, she changed into the loose, baggy shirt that Atlas had left out for her, and slid into bed. The blankets smelled faintly of him, a comfort that helped put her at ease in this new place.

Sleep came, but it was not peaceful.

Her mind twisted to yesterday's terror and months of pressure into a single, suffocating nightmare. She was falling through the ice again, water rushing up to choke her, cold biting at her skin—and then, the water rushed away from her body, replaced by her coach's hands, pressing, controlling, a weight she could not escape. She was helpless, limp and unable to fight back, completely immobilized in her dream. It was triggering and a rush of feelings flooded her nervous system.

Feelings that she was trying to repress.

Dax stirred violently, breath hitching, little cries spilling from her lips. Her hands flew to her neck, feeling like she couldn't breathe, her mind not quite catching up with her body.

Atlas was moving in the next room, heading to the small kitchen for a sip of water. He paused mid-step when he heard her stirring—soft sounds, but enough to catch his attention.

“Dax?” he murmured, voice low, careful.

He slowly padded into the doorway, seeing that she had left it open for the night instead of closing herself off from him. Before she could say anything, her breathing gave away her distress. He moved into her space and gently sat on the edge of the bed. He could tell she was having a night terror and he couldn't just leave her to continue to face it. He lightly put his hand on her arm.

“Hey…Dax. Dax. I'm here, it's okay” Atlas whispered.

She bolted upright the instant she registered his presence. In her mind, it wasn’t Atlas. It was him—her coach.

She flung herself away from him, heart hammering, and Atlas froze, eyes wide, sensing the terror and confusion in her movement.

“Hey! It’s me,” he said quietly, his alpha instinct switching on.

“You’re safe. I’m right here. It was just a bad dream. You're okay.”

She sank back against the blankets, hands shaking. Tears spilled down her cheeks, wracking little sobs that didn’t stop when she tried to steady them. Atlas was careful to give her space but remained close enough to hold her if she reached for him.

“You’re okay,” he repeated. “It’s over. Just breathe for me. Can you do that?”

Minutes passed. She hiccupped, sniffled, letting herself cry. She hated that Atlas had to see her like this but was happy he woke her up so she could get away from that scene.

Her voice was broken when she finally spoke,

"I...I...I was back on the lake again." She stuttered.

Atlas listened without interrupting, letting the story spill out in pieces, careful not to pressure her. The only sound was her quiet breathing and the occasional shift of blankets.

“I was back on the lake,” she repeated, getting a better grip of herself. “I could feel the ice cracking again. That sound… right before it gives.” She swallowed hard. “I fell through. I felt all of it. The cold, the way it steals your breath. The weight of the water.”

Atlas stayed quiet, eyes fixed on her face, jaw tight.

“But then…” She squeezed her eyes shut for a second. “The water was just gone. I wasn’t drowning anymore.” Her fingers curled into the blanket. “There were hands instead.”

His brow furrowed. “Hands?”

She nodded, staring down at her lap. “Holding me under. Not water. Just… hands everywhere.”

Atlas’s voice softened even more. “Whose hands, Dax?”

Her lips pressed together, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks and for a moment he thought she might shut down. When she spoke, the words came slowly, like they had to fight their way out.

“I had a coach,” she said quietly. “A while back. He… used to let his hands linger longer than they should’ve. At first, I thought that was just part of it. Corrections. Positioning. Skating is hands-on sometimes.” She gave a small, humorless breath.

“I told myself I was being dramatic.”

Atlas’s hands curled into fists against his knees, but he didn’t interrupt.

“It got worse,” she continued. “Little things. Standing too close. Touches that didn’t feel like coaching anymore.” Her voice wavered but didn’t break.

“I placed high at a regional competition, and he asked me to come to his office at the rink. Said he had a gift for me. Wanted to celebrate.”

Atlas’s expression darkened, but he kept his tone even. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” she said quickly, like if she didn’t keep going, she would never get it out.

“He offered me a drink. I didn’t really want it, but he kept pushing, saying I’d earned it. I felt… weird about the whole thing, but I didn’t want to upset him.” Her fingers twisted tighter in the blanket.

“Then he started touching me again. Not like a coach. I froze at first. I didn’t know what to do.”

Atlas’s chest rose slowly with a controlled breath.

“When he tried to… when it got worse, I ran,” she said. “Just bolted out of his office. I didn’t even look where I was going. I ran straight out toward the street and almost got hit by a car.” Her eyes went distant. “If I had, skating would’ve been over. Everything I loved would’ve been over. He almost took everything from me.”

Silence settled between them, thick but not empty.

“I never told anyone the full story,” she finished softly. “I didn't think anyone would take me seriously. He's a really good coach, one of the best. I know my mom would have been disappointed. She paid so much to get him and jumped through so many hoops. She told me that he was the one who would bring us to the top. I just couldn't wreck everything she did, so I just… buried it. But I guess my brain didn’t.”

Atlas’s voice, when it came, was rough with emotion he was trying hard to contain. “I’m really glad you ran. and you told me all this. I can't imagine how scared you must have felt.”

Her eyes lifted to his, shining. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Me too.”

He still didn’t reach for her, didn’t crowd her space. He just stayed there on the edge of the bed, solid and steady, like a wall at her back she didn’t have to lean on unless she chose to.

“You’re safe right now,” he said quietly. “You’re here. With me. Nothing from back then gets to touch you tonight.”

Dax nodded, breathing a little easier, the echo of the nightmare finally starting to loosen its grip.

Atlas kept his face steady while she spoke, but inside, something feral was pacing behind his ribs.

Hands.

The word echoed in his skull like a threat still standing in the room.

Some man had put his hands on her. Had made her doubt herself. Had taken something meant to be safe and fun and turned it into a trap. Atlas felt heat crawl up his spine, slow and dangerous, the kind that usually came right before claws and teeth. His jaw tightened until it ached.

He wanted a name. A face. Something solid he could hunt down and make very, very clear that Dax was not someone you got to break and walk away from.

But she was sitting right in front of him, small on the bed but not weak, just carrying too much alone. And all his rage had nowhere to go.

"Easy", he told himself. "This isn’t about you."

Still, the thought wouldn’t stop circling. She had been trusting. Trying to be good. Trying to make someone proud. And some predator had twisted that.

His hands curled against his knees, nails biting into his palms. He forced them to loosen. Forced his breathing to stay slow and even.

She doesn’t need your anger right now. She needs your control.

Atlas had faced storms, hunger, blood, long winters in total silence. None of that had ever made him feel this helpless. He could fight anything he could see. This was already done. Already carved into her memory.

"I should know what to say," he thought. Something that fixes it. Something that makes it smaller. But there were no words big enough to carry what she had just handed him.

So he stayed still. Stayed grounded. Let his voice be the calm thing when everything inside him wanted to bare its teeth.

And beneath the fury, beneath the helplessness, another feeling settled in, deep and unshakable.

Mine to protect now.

Not in a way that caged her. Not in a way that took her choices. Just a quiet, iron promise in his bones.

No one touches her like that again. Not while I’m breathing.

"I know, and thank you. Sometimes it just feels much closer to me than it actually is. Like I will never be able to truly run from it" Dax said quietly, as if she were saying it to herself.

"Memories can sometimes do that to you no matter how many walls and locks are up. But right now, it is just us. You are safe."

Safe. There was that word again. For some reason, when Atlas said that to her, she really really believed it. Dax put her hand on top of his, slowly as if she were testing out the waters.

They both looked down at where their hands met and then looked back up at each other and smiled. Atlas turned his palm upward so he could brush his fingertips over hers. Dax closed her eyes, the contact putting her at ease like someone shot her up with endorphins.

They sat there, content with each other for a beat, then Atlas shifted slightly.

"Do you...want me to stay?" he asked.

Dax froze at the question, her chest tightening. She wanted him there more than she could admit, but she didn't want him to think she was a mess that he had to fix and could not function without him. She swallowed and shook her head slightly.

"No, it's okay. You can go, I'll be alright."

Atlas tilted his head, a small frown tugging at his lips. She didn't look okay just yet, but he had to let the choice be hers, especially after what she had just revealed to him.

"Alright, if you change your mind, you know where I'll be. Don't hesitate to ask."

Her lips curved into a small reassuring smile. "I..I know, thanks."

Atlas rose and turned towards the door, glancing back over his shoulder.

"I'll be right out there. I won't go anywhere, I promise. You need anything, just come get me."

Dax exhaled softly after watching him walk out the door. She curled into her blanket, feeling the warmth of his words and from his presence. She listened to his footsteps make their way back to the couch and then the quiet creaking as he settled into the furniture.

Almost immediately she had wished she would have told him to stay.

He wanted to stay. He wanted to hold her until she stopped shaking, until the memory faded enough that sleep could return. But he knew better than to force himself into her space. It was going to take time for this thing between them to fully blossom, and he was willing to wait for however long it would take.

About an hour had passed and Dax had tossed and turned under the covers with restless movements. Every time she closed her eyes, she could feel Atlas right there in the other room, just steps away. The warmth of his presence lingered in her mind and in her chest. She just couldn't shake it.

It felt wrong being here by herself with him so close. She wanted him near. She wanted the calm, the safety, and the quiet strength he radiated.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She slipped from the bed and tip-toed toward the living room, careful not to wake him just in case she lost her nerve and changed her mind.

She emerged at the end of the hallway and there he was.

Sprawled on the couch, blanket half covering him, one arm draped back over the arm rest and eyes closed. He looked calm and relaxed and Dax's heart thumped.

She froze inside the archway for a moment, feeling awkward about moving forward.

All of a sudden, his eyes opened slowly, sensing her there, just as she had hoped. No words were spoken. None were needed. A tilt of his head, beckoning for her to come over to him, and she knew he understood.

His gaze held hers. His eyes softened at the sight of her, glad she came to him and was comfortable doing so.

She bit her lip, suddenly feeling bashful at how much she wanted his, but she moved forward anyway, compelled by the quiet pull between them.

Atlas shifted, still on his back, lifting the blanket just enough, giving her an unspoken invitation.

Dax saw it, the way his eyes lingered on her with gentle approval, and she swallowed the last of her hesitation. She crawled onto the couch, on top of him careful and slow, letting her body curl on top of his chest.

The moment her cheek pressed against him, she exhaled, relief washing through her like warm sunlight. She could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear, along with the reassuring rise and fall of his chest. His arms wrapped around her naturally, pulling her in, still without words.

She nuzzled closer, instinctively tucking her head under his jaw and letting herself sink into the comfort she had been craving. Atlas adjusted her slightly and rested his chin on her head, holding her gently, every movement protective and sweet.

Her eyes fluttered shut as a small, content sigh escaped her lips. The weight of the night, the memories, the fear, it all felt distant now. All that existed now was him, steady and warm, and the safe space he created just for her.

For the first time since she had woken up from that nightmare, she truly felt at ease.

And Atlas, beneath her, couldn't help the faint smile tugging at his lips, thrilled that she had come to him, that he could be the one to hold her and let her rest.

That he could be the one to keep her nightmares away...