He heard footsteps and the woman came back into the room, holding a cardboard box under her arm. She frowned, and came closer to him, staring. He held still and stared back; or rather he tried to hold still. He was still shivering, and he couldn't seem to stop.

"Hold out your hand," she asked, and when he didn't move added, "Please?"

He did, reluctantly, and they both watched as it shook and jittered. She shook her head at him sadly.

"Sorry, but you still need to warm up." She put the cardboard box down on the couch beside him, grabbed him by the knees, pulled him forward and slid behind him, planting herself between his back and the back of the couch.

He froze, every muscle locked. She was as close to him as someone in combat, her chest warm against his back, wonderfully warm. He was intensely aware of how much he was enjoying that warmth and how very inappropriate it was. He should be objecting but this was a valid treatment for hypothermia, and he must have already done this with her…he wished very very hard for his memory to come back, but nothing did.

Damn.

"Here," she said, reaching out from under the blanket and rummaging in the box. "This is all I've got. Snacks for the road. How does – chocolate-covered ginger dipped in peanut butter sound?"

"Ugh, it sounds – can I try some?"

She handed him a plastic container of dark brown clumps, and a jar of peanut butter. Protein, he reminded himself. Fats and calories. And fiber too.

"If it's taboo for me to watch you eat, I could close my eyes," she said over his shoulder.

"What?"

She shrugged, which he felt rather than saw. "You never see ninja eating in the movies. So I thought-"

"Shouldn't believe what you see in the movies," he said, and then his mouth was too busy for talking. Chocolate covered ginger dipped in peanut butter turned out to be delicious. Further rummaging in the box produced several loose apples (he ate two) and a bag of what she said was ostrich jerky. She had a gallon jug of water as well.

"Got a glass?'

"Nope," she said.

He blinked painfully, feeling his eyelids rasp against his eyes, and that decided him. There was no way to do it without feeling vulnerable, so he tilted his head back against her shoulder and drank. The water was cold and clear and wonderful, and he drank it in deep gulps, feeling it soak through him to the pores.

At some point during this, his hostess had wrapped her arms around him, over the blanket. The food and the water were starting to make him feel alive again. He closed his eyes and relaxed into her embrace, feeling the shivering finally stop.

"Better?" she asked, pressing her hand to his chest.

"Yes," he breathed. "Much better. I think I can get up now."

"But you're not going to leave yet."

He bit his tongue, then reluctantly conceded, "No. But I should call people-"

The woman wriggled free to sit down beside him, which was a relief. Having her against his back had been VERY distracting. "Until the power comes back on the cell towers won't be working."

"Right. Right…you never told me how I got here. Did you find me, or-?"

"You were wandering in circles in my front yard, and then the tree fell on you. Fortunately you were singing before it fell, or I might not have noticed over the noise of the storm."

He'd been drunk enough to be singing? In public? Not good, not good at all. Well, at least with the power out there wouldn't be any embarrassing footage of it this time.

"And, sorry, did you ever tell me your name?"

"Ann Wales – call me Ann." As he shook her offered hand, he felt hard calluses against his own. Interesting; the calluses weren't in a pattern that he recognized.

"And your front yard is - where, exactly?"

"You're on Caddis Way. We're right up against the Haunted Woods."

"Oh really? Then I can just walk back-" He went to rise and felt his muscles complain, and was almost not surprised when she took him by the shoulder and pushed him back onto the couch. Of course he knew he could get away whenever he wanted to. Except for-

"You can't leave," she snapped, looking up at him. She held up her little finger and added, "You swore. Doctor's orders."

"But I can't just stay here! Anything could be happening – if there's a blackout there's sure to be people gathering firewood. They'll be," he widened his eyes dramatically, "lumberjacking. Paul Bunyans could be tearing the town apart right now. I have to get out there and find out what's happening."

"You told me about the Bunyans. They sound – very intimidating." She bit her lower lip for a moment, considering. "If the power comes back, you could call for a ride, check with the police and see what's going on. I really don't advise you walking in the dark in your condition. If you'll at least wait until dawn, you can see where you're going."

Now there was a good point. He wasn't quite sure where Caddis Way was, although obviously it was in the general same area as his office. Walking over icy unfamiliar ground in the dark was obviously doable - he was a ninja, after all - but a wise ninja saved his strength for battle.

She suddenly snapped her fingers. "And that reminds me - you should break down your sword and dry it, or else the tang might rust out."

That was - astute of her. Not many people knew weapons that well. "And why didn't you do that?" She seemed to have done practically everything else for him.

She looked startled. "Disassemble your weapon?" she asked, in a tone that suggested he'd asked her to do something improper, like, say, take off his pants. "Not without your permission – your sane permission. Besides, I don't think I have the right tools."

"What do you mean, sane?"

"Not tottering and hallucinating?"

Well, he certainly knew how to make a good impression, didn't he? Not only had his mother humiliated him, he'd nearly gotten himself killed by a tree, and had to be rescued by some random stranger. And he couldn't even remember that.

"I just want to figure out what's going on," he said, crossing his arms and scowling at the fire.

"You were hurt! You're recovering! You're allowed to rest, you know."

"Sure," he said, scowling harder.

She sighed, sounding frustrated. "You were a lot friendlier the first time you woke up."

"I was what?"

"Almost charming."

"I must have been really out of it then," he muttered, and then wished he could take the words back.

She made a face. "Well, now you're better, back to normal apparently, and it's not an improvement. And stop pouting!"

"I am not pouting!" he snapped.

"Not you," she said, pointing to his feet. "Him."

Doc looked down and a large feathery puffball looked up at him with dark angry eyes. It was a little dog, with lush white fur barely tipped with grey that stood out from its body in a woolly explosion. It seemed to frown at him.

"You couldn't sleep on the couch because I was on it," Ann went on to the dog. "And if you slept on the couch with me, you'd have jumped off and landed on him," she pointed at Doc, "and he would have thrown you through the wall."

"Hey, I would not!"

"You might have, if he landed on you. Woke you up out of a sound sleep and - bam!"

He looked at the dog, and the dog looked back with upset little black eyes. He should probably try to be nice to it; people liked it when you were nice to their pets, right? "Cute dog. I don't recognize the breed."

"I'd say he's ninety percent Pomeranian and ten percent Tribble." He gave her mental points for knowing her Star Trek. "I don't know exactly, I adopted him from a shelter. He's cross at you for disturbing his routine." She reached down and patted the dog on the head. "Go on, back in your carrier."

The dog looked up at them and then turned, fluffy bottom slipping away into the gloom.

He really didn't want to just wait here. On the other hand, if he was stuck here, maybe he should find out why he was stuck here. It was hard to believe that a tree had taken him out, storm or no storm.

"Could I see where the tree fell on me?" He smiled nervously. "I want to see for myself."

She rolled her eyes at the ceiling. "You want to go outside in this weather? You'll get soaked again," she warned him. "None of my raingear will fit you. And if you make a break for it now, I'm in no mood to chase you."

He stared at her, not consciously looming over her or anything, just - staring. He was good at staring; he'd practiced.

"Fine, fine." She got up and kicked off her slippers, stomping into heavy boots and picking up a second flashlight: this one was blocky with what looked like a built-in radio, just what someone would carry in their car for emergencies. She shrugged a raincoat on, unlocked the front door and stepped out with him silent at her heels.