For any regular human, it would have been impossible to reach to Antarctica in less than an hour. Then again, neither Jack nor Cor were regular humans. For one thing, Cor's eyes weren't the only technologically advanced things in the CIA agent's possession. He had an extra teleporter - and it was fortunate that Jack had actually agreed to the venture or it would have turned out to be a useless item to carry around – as well as gear that they required in order to survive both the harsh weather of the frosty continent and their fight against the Thing.

In spite of it all, Jack couldn't help but frown at all the extra precautions the younger man had taken. Sure, it wouldn't be wise to leave bags left and right out in the open (hiding the gear right in the fountain in a water-resistant container was rather clever). It was, however, a whole different level of paranoia to use thermo-clips in weapons that could blast an elephant's head off.

"How big is that thing anyway?" Jack said, still staring at the shotguns in a dubious manner.

"It's not about the size, as you very well know; and, no, I didn't say that so that your mind can take a nosedive into the gutter," Cor replied half-teasing, half-serious. "Scorching heat is just about the one thing that can stop it."

"Kill it?"

"Theoretically." Cor admitted, his hands moving with expert ease as he loaded both shotguns with bullets. "Can't tell you if the results are guaranteed."

"Risky," Jack said. "And you do realize that incendiary weapons of that caliber you're giving me were revoked within five years of their manufacture because of overheating problems, right?" Even warfare in 31st century – for it was from that time that Cor acquired the shotguns, Jack was sure of it – had its troubleshooting issues… no pun intended.

"Which means we'll use them sparingly and make every shot count." A clicking sound as he locked the incendiary weapons filled the air, and he handed one over to Jack. "I hope being cooped up in here hasn't made you forget how to aim?"

"There are some targets down at the shooting range that can answer your question," Jack said. He did have to vent off some steam whenever he was frustrated, naturally, and sex wasn't always available.

"Good enough for me," Cor said with a gentle smile, only to sober once more in the next moment. "Don't ever let it out of your sight. You eat with it, you sleep with it, even have shower with it. Got it?"

"Well, technically, it's an incendiary weapon, so having a shower with it isn't the best idea."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do," the former time-agent said softly. "So, any idea where we're heading? We can't exactly teleport in the middle of nowhere."

"I took the liberty of scanning the bases that were relatively close to Outpost 31," Cor said, unfolding a piece of paper – a map. "There's a Norwegian camp here… And there's a Russian outpost about 50 miles from said Norwegian camp."

"The Norwegian one is definitely closer to 31."

"One could say too close," Cor said thoughtfully. "Considering where the ship crashlanded, the Thing must have gotten frozen under the ice, unable to withstand the extreme cold. That is, until it was thawed out. By calculating the area a helicopter and / or a snow vehicle can cover, I'm afraid to say that it could have been either outpost that discovered the Thing first."

"That's not what concerns me," Jack said.

"Then what is?"

"Do you know Norwegian? 'Cause I don't."

Cor shook his head. "Still, it's a research facility, with educated scientists. Some of them are bound to know English."

"Let's hope so," Jack replied. "Ready?"

"Yeah. Hold up your hand."

Jack complied, allowing Cor to strap the extra teleporter around his wrist as he hummed to himself.

"Setting coordinates… The Outpost was discovered in ruins in March, last known positive report was on late January… so it's February 10th."

"What makes you so sure about the date?"

"Logically, if the scientists could communicate the existence of the Thing in the outside world, they would have done so. The fact that they didn't means that something prevented them from doing so, such as extreme weather conditions, like the ones recorded in Antarctica in early February, 1982."

"Or the Thing," Jack pointed out.

"There's that probability too," Cor admitted. "Still… Post-snowstorm is the best chance we've got. After that… it will be trial and error, I'm afraid."

"Sounds like fun," Jack deadpanned.

"If we're lucky – or unlucky, take your pick – we'll get our excitement soon enough," Cor said wryly. "Here goes." With that, the man started pressing the buttons one by one with experienced ease, and Jack felt the warmth of the room vanishing, swiftly replaced by the harsh, biting cold of the Antarctic. It was broad daylight, but that would change soon - at that time of year, with spring well on its way, the night would only become longer.

That wasn't the cause of their alarm, however. It was the smell of gasoline and ash that assaulted their nostrils, and then, as their eyes grew accustomed to the white that surrounded them, they discovered that they were in the middle of a grim scene: the outpost was in shambles, the two main buildings barely standing, whereas the shed had either been knocked down or burned to the ground.

"I'm no expert, but I don't think remote outposts are meant to look like this," Jack commented, eyes drifting in every direction. "You sure it's the right place?"

"Pretty sure," Cor said, his jaw tightening. "This is the Thing's doing."

"But was It here before or after It was done with the US outpost?"

"Hard to say," the younger man admitted. "Maybe we'll find out more if we go through the wreckage."

Jack nodded his understanding, his eyes narrowing as he still looked suspiciously. "Looks like a good place for an ambush. We'd better keep our guard up."

"Yeah…"

The two men walked towards the building closest to them, their shotguns in hand. The snow and ice crunched underneath their feet, the only sound to be heard in the desolation of it all, only to be followed by the creak of the door as Cor opened it all the way through. His other hand attempted to turn on the lights a couple of times, but there was no such luck. The power was out.

"Grab the flashlight from my pocket," the young man said, his shotgun still cocked as he kept his eyes on the dark corridor.

"And here I was, thinking you were happy working with me," Jack said, nevertheless reaching down in Cor's pocket. Seconds later, the flashlight poured whatever light was possible under the circumstances, and the first thing that both men caught sight of was the axe embedded on the wall. If there had been any doubt in Jack's mind about Cor's suspicions considering the involvement of the Thing in this whole mess, it had vanished into thin air right then and there.

They moved on, their steps echoing hollowly, examining room after room with caution. For all their alertness, however, nothing prepared them for the sight that awaited them in the radio room. For in the centre of the room was a body, seated stiffly because of the ice and riga mortis settling in. The features of the hapless man were heavily contorted to a grimace of despair and terror, the very same feelings that had probably played a part to his end. Both wrists and his throat were heavily slashed, and the fingers still held onto the instrument of his death, a bloodied razor. The blood had practically frozen mid-flow, forming gruesome stalactites on the frozen skin.

"Guess that's one accounted for," Jack commented.

"But who is he?" Cor said thoughtfully. "We'll have to find the personnel files to make a positive ID."

Jack frowned. "Can't you do that thing with your eyes?"

Cor shook his head. "It's 1982, there's no wireless connection to permit me access to such info. And, before you say anything, the Torchwood computers were reverse-engineered by alien technology, making them more advanced than your average present-day computer."

"So it's time for the good ole fashioned 'looking around' routine," Jack deadpanned.

"…Maybe not," Cor mused. "There are just about two people who would keep files of the entire staff: the head of the team and the medic. We could try our luck in the medbay first. And, if we're really lucky, we might find logs accounting the last few days of this outpost."

"Right," Jack said. "Any idea where the medbay might be?"

"In this mess? No."

"Onward then."

"Yeah…" In the next moment, and before Jack could react, Cor held up his shotgun and fired the body once, setting it on fire.

"What are you doing?" Jack said, so stunned that he staggered backwards to avoid the flames.

"Ensuring our safety," Cor said simply, reloading in a professional manner.

"Except that you've probably given away our position to anything that is out there!"

"If there is, at least it won't use the body against us," Cor reasoned. "Let's go."

Jack sighed mentally. The damage had already been done, he supposed, and there was no use moaning about it. So, he simply followed Cor out of the radio room and down the corridor. The tension in the air was heavy as they walked on, keeping their eyes open for anything out of the ordinary, but they persisted until they finally reached another large door, which they opened with caution. This time there was no body in sight. What they saw, however, was much worse: a large block of ice, its cavity suggesting that something had been in.

"I know you said size doesn't matter, but this is a big bastard after all," Jack said, looking wryly at the cavity.

"It wasn't that big when CIA found it," Cor replied thoughtfully. "It must have accumulated more biomass before getting frozen."

"The Crimson Fist crew?"

"Probably." Cor's eyes scanned the territory as if he was looking for something, and then headed towards a large bookcase.

"What?" Jack asked, unsure what was on the younger man's mind; but then realization caught up with him. There was a large row of cassettes on the top shelf that, for one reason or other, were sporting a large gap in the middle.

"Dirt hasn't settled in; this is recent. Which means someone was here before us and, surprise surprise, they took last week's tapes, if the dates are any clue." Cor commented. "Either they were trying to keep the discovery a secret…"

"… Or they were curious just like us," Jack completed. "Are you sure you came on your own?"

"Pretty damn sure," Cor replied. "Let's see what else we can find."

Jack nodded and started looking around along with the CIA agent. There wasn't much to see, though; just syringes, blank pieces of paper, pens and all sorts of other junk. It was when he was about to tell Cor that they might as well just give up that his eyes caught sight of something interesting: a file cabinet that had been toppled over. The papers underneath seemed blank as well but, upon closer inspection, Jack discovered that it wasn't so.

"Cor."

Cor looked over his shoulder; then came over when he realized what was on Jack's mind. Working together and being mindful not to spill everything on the floor, they finally lifted the cabinet in its normal upright position.

"Well… unless we are lucky enough to find a Norwegian-English dictionary around here, we'll have to hope that they took pictures," Jack said, the sight of the plethora of files not proving encouraging in the least. He wasn't sure how they'd be able to look through them all without spending days in the frozen land.

"And/or kept dates," Cor added wryly. In that moment, his watch beeped, practically startling them both. "Sorry…"

"I hope you have a good reason for almost giving us a heart-attack," Jack said, glaring.

"We have an hour till sundown," Cor explained, winding his watch once more. "If we're to find anything, we'll have to set up camp."

Jack looked around dubiously. Sure, it wasn't the most secure place in the world at the moment, with holes and cracks every which way. On the other hand, though, they had plenty of raw materials – courtesy of the catastrophe a few days before – so they could barricade themselves sufficiently enough. And, besides, they didn't have any other choice. Except perhaps go back, which wasn't all that much of an option.

"Time to put any handyman skills you have to the test then, kiddo, or we'll be the ones in need of a good thawing out."

Cor nodded wryly, and the two of them set to work.

It turned out that Cor was quite the expert handyman after all, and both he and Jack worked together as quite the well-coordinated team; so it wasn't long before the two were set for the night. And not a moment too soon. The darkness fell swiftly, icy and relentless. Worse, they couldn't turn on anything more than a torch – not when anyone could spot the light a mile away. So, Jack found himself fumbling rather than actually seeing anything by the time they had settled down in their makeshift haven. Something that, surprisingly enough, Cor didn't have to do. In fact, he moved quite easily, and he had even picked up a couple of files to read.

"Doesn't the pitch black bother you?" Jack finally asked.

"No, I just need a bit of candlelight and I see just fine," Cor answered. "Just like a cat."

"And what about complete darkness?"

"Fumbling like every normal guy."

Jack pursed his lips, another thought to cross his mind. "Does the darkness bother you?"

There was a pause for several moments. "It doesn't feel like I'm blind again, if that's what you're asking. You see this whole blackness surrounding us, right? Or when you close your eyes?"

"Yeah, I do."

"If you were really blind, you wouldn't see it," Cor said. "There's nothing there when you're blind. Absolutely nothing. It's a bit like… when you die, I suppose. No light, no familiar faces or angels… just nothing."

Jack sighed softly. "Got it. Which brings us to something else I want to know."

"And that is?"

"Okay, you're some super tracker so it was easy for you to find me. That doesn't explain how you found out I can't die."

"Easy. You told me."

"What? When?!" Jack said, shocked.

"Sorry, but I can't say things about the future or it may change. The Doctor lectured you enough times about that."

"You know about him, too?!"

"Pretty much your whole life story."

Jack frowned. How was that possible unless…? "Do you and I end up lovers?"

"What?! Ew, no!"

"…Um… thanks for the compliment?" Jack said.

"Sorry, don't get me wrong, but you and I…" Cor cleared his throat, paused, obviously trying to find something to say something. "… Not happening. There's already someone in my life and, even if there wasn't, you're…" He stopped again.

"I'm… what? A guy?" Jack prodded, raising an eyebrow,

"You know gender doesn't apply where you and I come from. But there are other factors and…" he sighed. "Look, let's just leave it that I'll never see you that way."

Jack's frowned further, nevertheless he decided to indulge the younger man on this. "Fair enough. Anything interesting in the files so far?"

"No, nothing," came the reply, less tense.

"You know, this could take forever," Jack pointed out.

"It's not like we're going anywhere for the time being."

"You could actually try and get some sleep."

"I'm good at the moment. But you could try and get some rest if you want."

"Don't need that much rest," Jack said. Not after the accident…

"You should still get some while there's a chance."

"…That goes both ways."

There was a pause for a few moments. "Point taken. We'll take turns."

"That's more like it." With that matter settled, Jack lay down, resting his head on his hands as he allowed the soft shuffling of papers lull him gently to sleep… trying not to think of what awaited them tomorrow.

TBC...