Summary: What happens when Julie Gaffney and Gunnar Stahl are accidentally locked together in a cold room overnight, only to be "rescued" by Dean Portman? The possibilities are endless. Julie's POV. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, and no money is made. I think that just about covers it.

Author's Note: Hi again, and welcome to the conclusion of Part 1. Special thanks to galindapopular and sToriTyme for sticking with me and reviewing the last chapter - you guys have been such an encouragement! And now I sincerely hope this final segment lives up to your high expectations. Enjoy!

Sympathy for the Icelanders: Part I

Frozen Hell - Rescue

I must be a heavy sleeper. Either that, or I was just really, really tired. I didn't hear the door opening, nor the sound of my own name being called. I didn't stir until Gunnar shifted beside me, jostling my drowsy head back to consciousness.

Then, I heard it.

"What the - ?!"

Portman? Oh Lord, please, no! Of all the people in Los Angeles who could have walked in on us, why did it have to be him? I would almost rather it had been one of Gunnar's Icelandic teammates. At least none of them had an obvious crush on me. Or, so I hoped.

Gunnar was already on his feet, having recovered his senses far more quickly than I did, and he immediately found himself face-to-face with an infuriated Dean Portman. I feared the worst, and rightfully so; for a full-fledged fight seemed imminent when Portman, with the element of surprise on his side, literally grabbed his Scandinavian rival by the front of his shirt and roughly shoved him against the wall, pinning him there.

I leapt up, nearly panicking. "Wait, stop! Portman, what are you doing?"

He, in turn, looked affronted. "Me? What about him? What's he doing? And what the heck were you doing?"

Oh, brother, this was going to be difficult to explain. I took a long, deep breath to calm myself before assuring him. "This isn't what it looks like, Portman, I promise. Now will you please let him go so I can tell you what happened?"

"Let him go?" the elder Bash Brother echoed in disbelief. "Are you kidding? I'm gonna pound his sorry Iceland carcass to a pulp before anything else happens here."

That got a spark of life back in Gunnar's weary eyes. Don't ask me how, but I could tell he was still extremely tired. The coming day would certainly not be an enjoyable one for him. But in the meantime, he managed to successfully push Portman away from him; and before they could come back together to renew the brawl, I hastily inserted myself between them, fully aware that I was doing so at my own bodily risk.

Sure enough, I could feel them both pressing in against me at once in an attempt to lay hold of each other's throats, and I was forced to raise a hand on either side simply to protect myself and avoid being squashed in the melee.

"Now just hold on a minute, both of you!" I exclaimed, more concerned for my personal well-being than for keeping the peace. "Look, I know this isn't exactly an ideal situation here; but if you two end up killing each other, I'm the one who'll be found here in the morning with two dead bodies."

"Then why don't you just leave, sweetheart?" Portman suggested, as though it were the easiest thing in the world. He and Gunnar hadn't stopped glaring at each other over my head; sometimes I really hate being on the short side. "You don't have to stick around for this."

"Um, yes, actually I do, and that's what I've been trying to tell you all along. Portman, this door can't be opened from the inside overnight, so we have to wait until everything opens back up again in the morning."

"What?!"

My colleague abruptly tore himself away from the tense confrontation, only to take his own turn at tugging futilely on the unrelenting door. No small stream of cursing and obscenities followed, to which I only shook my head.

But what time was it now, anyway? I dared a glance down at my watch. Five forty-nine. Oh, that was just great! If Gunnar's six o'clock theory was correct, I had exactly eleven minutes to keep World War III from breaking out in here.

At least now I understood why Gunnar had been so upset with me when I'd first arrived and failed to keep the door open. The novelty of being locked in a cold storeroom wore off pretty darn quickly, especially when you were trapped with your arch nemeses' star player. So why was I tempted to apologize to said star player for my own teammate's raucous behavior?

Thankfully, Portman spared me the trouble by rejoining us. He had finished with the door, and I prayed all his destructive energies had been spent there, with little chance of resurfacing against someone who frankly did not deserve them. At least not on this particular evening.

Now experiencing the same phase of denial that I had, Dean turned his back on Gunnar and addressed me. "At least I found you."

"What do mean?" I asked, not comprehending. "Were you looking for me?"

"Well, duh, of course we were looking for you! Why else do you think I'd be here at this ungodly hour in the morning?"

"What happened?"

"Connie woke up, and you were missing – that's what happened. Coach came around into all the rooms asking if anyone knew where you were, and then Banks remembered that you were going to look for some medical tape or something for him."

I was suddenly indignant. "Yeah, whatever happened with that? Didn't he notice like six hours ago that I never came back with any?"

"Uh, no, because Fulton actually found him some right after you left; but he did remember where you'd gone, so I said I'd come look for you."

"And congratulations: you found her." That, as you might have guessed, was Gunnar. The guy was forcing his way back into the conversation and into the forefront of Portman's mind. Needless to say, I was nervous again. So you can imagine my blended surprise and relief when the latter continued to address me rather than completely lose his temper.

"Ya know, Jules, you still haven't explained how you ended up being stuck in here with this loser. If he dragged you in here or anything like that, then he'd better know he's already dead where he stands."

"No, no, no," I explained hastily, feeling my cheeks warm a bit at the insinuation. "He was already locked in here when I came. Believe me, I would never choose to be trapped overnight somewhere with Gunnar Stahl."

"Then why were you sleeping with him?"

I winced at the choice of words, and by that point, I knew I was blushing brighter than Rudolph's nose.

"Next to him, Portman – next to him! And that was just because it's freezing in here, in case you hadn't noticed."

Dean nodded but hardly looked convinced. "Yeah, I noticed. And I'm sure that's the only reason you're wearing his jacket, too, huh?"

"Yes, it is," I sighed. "Don't worry, I'm not switching sides or anything."

Suddenly curious, I looked over to see how Gunnar himself had been weathering our incredibly awkward discussion, but I froze as soon as my head was turned. He was gone – simply vanished right from under my nose while Portman and I were talking.

"Gunnar?" I called tentatively, hoping I didn't sound too worried. That's all it would take to reawaken my teammate's suspicions, as well as his fierce jealousy. It's fairly common knowledge throughout the team that Portman's had a thing for me ever since our first week of training. For my own part, though, I'm still not entirely sure what to make of the whole situation.

"Gunnar!" I tried again, louder this time, but Portman just waved it off.

"Aw, let him hide. I knew he'd be too chicken to take me on without his sidekick, Sanderson. Man, I can't wait to get my hands on that guy when we play them in the championship!"

"But where could he have gone?" I wondered, still unsettled by his disappearance.

Then, like a ton of bricks, it hit me. I checked my watch again and felt like a hopeless simpleton. Five minutes after six. He must have slipped silently out the door while my new prison buddy and I rambled on and on about nothing even remotely relevant.

Still feeling like the biggest idiot to ever walk the planet, I stalked past Portman without a word and tried the door. It opened easily. So six o'clock must have been the magic time, after all.

Our walk together back to the dorms consisted mainly of Portman lecturing my ear off about the inherent nature of guys and how I really needed to be more careful around them, etc. Personally, I still think he was just jealous. I can't see him as much of the lecturing type otherwise.

But at length, he dropped me off at my room, and upon entering, I was immediately crushed in Connie's ecstatic embrace.

"Julie! Oh, Julie, I'm glad you're all right; I was so worried about you!"

"It's okay, Con, I'm fine," I assured her while struggling to retain enough air in my lungs for breathing. "I just wish you could've noticed I was gone a little sooner."

"I know, I know," my roommate gushed. "And I'm sorry, I really am! But where on earth were you all this time?"

"It's…kind of a long story."

She finally released me from her vise-like grip. "Well, never mind that, I still want to hear all about…Julie Marie Gaffney, what is that?"

For a second, I was confused; then, suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to crawl into a black hole somewhere and die.

I was still wearing Gunnar Stahl's jacket.

Author's End Note: Well, whaddya think? Hopefully it didn't disappoint. But since this is Part 1, after all, you can most certainly expect a Part 2 to our Sympathy for the Icelanders series - "Heads Above" coming soon to a fanfiction site near you. I hope that's good news, lol. So keep your eyes open; I've still got a bit of work to do on that one, but I promise it will be done. Thanks for reading, and we'll see you then!