Atlas was surprised to find out that Wasilla, Alaska, only had a little bit of snow. His manager, Aronne, had told him that snow started waning in late March and early April. Even still, the temperature was low enough to turn his nose red when he stepped outside of the airport.

Thankfully, his coworker had lent him one of her jackets before they took off. It was a little tight around the shoulders and stomach, but it would do and he clung to it for every ounce of warmth he could.

The app on his phone said it was twenty eight degrees Fahrenheit out.

Why did Aronne choose Alaska?

He contemplated that on the way to the house they were renting for their three weeks of work "vacation."

Alaska was very different than what he would have thought. It still had that small town feel that he got when he watched TV, even as they left the airport in a rented car, but when he looked around he saw some small shops and even a highway.

He sighed eternally when he noticed a small KFC. Thank God.

"Do you think it'll warm up any?" Atlas asked into the quiet space of the SUV. There were three of them in it, and then the rest of his coworkers took a van to camp out in at the work site, eager to scout it out before dark.

He certainly did not have their enthusiasm for the work, but he was just a technician tagging along, not one of the passionate scientists determined to win a Nobel prize for being the first to successfully stop an earthquake in its tracks. All he was to do was make sure the coordinates he drew from the international earthquake risk database aligned with their work site.

"Don't mean to be a downer, but I think a cold front is supposed to come in," Aronne said from the passenger seat. Ashe, the woman who had lent him the winter jacket, had gleefully taken the wheel when their manager said he was tired earlier, content to use driving toward the white capped mountains as an excuse to not participate in their small talk. She had never been one to talk much. She was a listener, by and far, and Atlas wondered sometimes what went through her mind.

He tried not to chuckle when he imagined her talking trash about them behind their backs. "This isn't the cold front?" he asked. The slight amusement wasn't enough to keep the annoyance from creeping in. Once more he couldn't help but think, Why Alaska?

"Oh nope, and a pile of snow's soon to follow."

"It's spring," he groaned.

Aronne guffawed. "Snow doesn't care what season it is in the north!" He turned slightly in his seat to get a better look at Atlas. "It'll be gorgeous, though, when the ground has a fresh blanket down and the boreal forest droops with snow and icicles. You know, I used to live out here, years ago. Out on the Aleutians. It's actually where I met my wife. Absolutely gorgeous being surrounded by the ocean. I think once you get used to the cold in a couple of days, you'll find some joy here too."

So that's why Atlas was in Alaska. His manager was sentimental and apathetic. Maybe Atlas was being a little rude there, but he couldn't help but cross his arms, sinking deeper into the coat. One just didn't get used to the cold in a couple days. He was ready for summer!

How cruel was it for the spring weather to warm the mountains up back in Asheville only for his manager to laugh and dump him in the north of the north, in the state no one ever thought about down south.

He took his phone out, snapping a picture of the mountains in the far distance. He texted it to Leia.

Jealous yet? he captioned it.

Her reply was almost immediate.

Hah no

Look at that 28!

No one wants to be there!!!!

Atlas laughed. He had gotten the dash in the picture on accident. At least it seemed she wasn't too upset anymore about him taking her phone to the hospital with him, or if she was, she wasn't showing it.

"What are you laughing about?"

"Sorry, just texting my friend."

Aronne shook his head, twisting back around in his seat. "No one appreciates Alaska enough!" he said dramatically, pressing a hand to his heart like it physically pained him.

He was a man in his late forties, and he acted just like Atlas' grandpa sometimes. He found it an enduring trait, and he couldn't ever quite get himself to dislike the man even when he made biased decisions for their projects.

"I think it's beautiful, too," Ashe piped up from her seat.

"See? This is why you're my favorite, Ashe."

She chuckled, and regained her attention on the road.

~

Atlas thought about his grandma as he went about capturing waypoints along the fault line his coworkers studied. He had done the work enough times that he had some time to think as he moved about his work, waiting for the old GPS unit to catch up to his button presses.

He didn't have very many memories with her. She wasn't the healthiest of his grandparents, mentally or physically, and some part of him always avoided becoming close to her because of it. So his gut didn't ache thinking about what happened to her like it did on those rare occasions when he thought about his wild soul of a mother.

His heart went out more to his hardworking father who lost his wife a little over a decade ago, when Atlas was in junior year. That man had strived for years to keep everyone together, a dream Atlas' mother had instilled in both of them.

She wanted a strong, happy family, one that could pick itself up out of the trench it had dug itself over the years. It was her passion, and she died before she could see it enacted.

His father tried to take that burden up onto himself that afternoon, when they watched her casket descend side by side.

Atlas followed the compass to the next coordinate he needed to mark, glancing down at the notes he had in a small notebook in his left hand. His gloved fingers were growing numb from the cold.

It had been multiple days now since they arrived in Alaska. Each one was spent following along the multiple miles-long fault line, or at least where geologists had estimated it to be, and trying not to let the guilt stab him in the stomach whenever he thought about home.

He paused, gathering his things into one hand and pulling his phone out of his coat pocket. He glanced through to see if he got any notifications, but he had none, which was to be expected, since it felt like he was in the middle of nowhere without any signal.

The day before, he had texted his father, hoping to get more information on how grandma Georgie was doing and when they determined her surgery would be, but had yet to get a response.

With a sigh, Atlas trudged through more snow, his breath puffing in front of him. He tucked it away again, and continued on.

God was his job a pain in the ass. Sometimes he wondered why he chose such a tedious career with little to no job projection. He could have decided to work for NASA or some other large government section with the ability to move up, fantastic benefits, and an easy way to make himself sound more glorified when he told people about his job, but instead stuck with this one.

But this was close to home, and more within his expectations for himself. Everyone in the field wanted to work for NASA.

Thankfully, the pay was good enough. He had that, at least. It was better than his parents had combined when they were both alive and well, so he couldn't complain.

Three waypoints later, he was on his last two coordinates. He would have to drive to the next spot, so he retraced his tracks and got into the SUV where Ashe waited for him. Aronne had made them keep a buddy system, so that Atlas wouldn't get lost and freeze to death.

It would have been nice if he didn't think he was being treated like a dumb high schooler who couldn't read a compass. Reading a compass and finding where something was at was his job, for God's sake.

She turned off her music when he was still fifteen feet away from the vehicle and unlocked the doors. The engine was still running, thankfully, and he got into the passenger seat, greeted by a welcome heat and seat warmers.

"Staying entertained?" he asked, sitting on his hands. His gloves were definitely not thick enough. His skin tingled with the heat radiating from the leather seat. Seat warmers were definitely the best accessory invention for a car. Once he saved up enough, that was going to be a requirement for his next one.

"Mm," she said, folding up a journal she had in her lap. She glanced at him and then looked back to the field. She rarely made eye contact but for a moment. He couldn't tell if it was cute or rude, but he always let it slide. "How much longer?"

He pulled his notes back out. "I have two left." He quickly told her the directions to the next one, and she creeped forward, trying to stay in line with his directions. "Maybe another thirty minutes, max, if one of them ends up being a pain to get to."

While she drove, he pulled out his laptop, setting it on his lap. He tried to work quickly while still keeping enough of an eye on where they were at. He connected the GPS unit up and worked to get set up for the analysis he'd have to do later, as much as he could in only a few minutes, anyway.

Once more he thanked her for driving him around like she was his mom, and he reluctantly got out of the SUV at the intended spot. A part of him wished he could keep the small talk going with her, as an excuse to stay in the warmth longer, but she dropped a conversation faster than she'd a hot pan.

His legs ached as he walked around once more, trying to find the exact coordinate spot to match his notes, lifting the compass up to just below his eyes. His grandfather had been the one who showed him how to read a compass. His father had been in the marines for years, and that's where he learned. Although Atlas had little respect for the military, he had a lot of respect for the people working hard within it, and as a child he was thrilled to learn more about the life he lived before he retired in Asheville.

He walked in near circles for fifteen minutes before the coordinates suddenly jumped like crazy and his GPS unit cut off shortly after.

Atlas glared at the device. He poked the battery around and turned it on and off but couldn't get the screen to turn on again.

Great. Just what he needed.

He shivered, crossing his arms when some wind blew past, seeming to cut straight through his coat despite the faux-fur lining.

Although he wasn't IT, he knew enough about the device to try fixing it on his own. He tinkered with it for maybe another fifteen before he decided it wasn't worth the numb fingers and found Ashe back in the SUV. It was 2 coordinates, out of like thirty that he matched so far that day. He could come back tomorrow if his manager thought it was necessary to get the last ones, assuming he could fix it or get the less-quality spare working.

You'd think he'd learn not to make assumptions after he had his wallet taken by some random kid at the diner.

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This was a slow chapter (with a lame ending lol), mostly setting up the stage for future events, but I promise things will pick up soon! Thank you so much for sticking with Steady Ground so far ♥ I really appreciate your time, and I hope it doesn't disappoint!