"James? James, come on. Time to wake up."

James frowned and resolutely turned his face away from the voice. The telephone hadn't gone off, so there was no emergency requiring him. He was tired and curled up next to a warm body. He had absolutely no intentions of getting up.

"Come on…no sleeping on the job remember?"

Be quiet voice, the vet thought. I'm not at work. And you're not Helen. He rolled closer to the body next to him, throwing an arm around his wife's waist.

"Ooof. Ow. Not that I'm not flattered James but I don't think Helen would take too kindly to it."

The voice sounded an odd mixture of pained and highly amused. James furrowed his brow. Despite his determination to remain asleep and comfortable the insistent conversation was slowly waking him up, aided by a nagging sense that something was wrong, something he had to fix.

"James. Up. Please!"

The voice was sounding urgent now. James heaved a resigned sigh and opened his eyes, expecting to see his rooms at Skeldale house and Helen asleep next to him. Instead he found himself staring at the inside of a dark shed, lit only by a pale moonlight through gaps in the door. He was lying on a carpet of old and dusty straw, not on the double bed in the attic rooms and the warm body he was embracing was his partner's younger brother, rather than his wife. A deep blush spreading across his face, James snatched his arm back hurriedly.

"Awake then?"

Tristan's smirk was audible, the smug idiot. James glowered through his embarrassment. His hands were still very painful but his head was clearer now.

"Yes. I'm awake." He hesitated. "Sorry…I wasn't…erm." Tristan huffed out a laugh.

"I'm very certain you were asleep James. What time is it anyway? How long have we been here? I was asleep too."

James looked at his wrist and sighed. The watch face was shattered, the hands missing. He squinted at his companions watch instead, which Tris held up obligingly to a shaft of moonlight. When that wasn't quite bright enough he turned on the torch again, thankful it had survived the journey from the ruined car.

"About half three it looks like. We've been asleep for a couple of hours."

"Oh."

Tristan had closed his eyes again. He was much too pale and had barely moved since James had awoken. Accepting the inevitable James pulled himself into a kneeling position.

"Let's take a look at you then, now we're indoors."

When Tris made no reply James went ahead with his examination. He gently pulled back Tris's coat, jumper and blood-stained shirt. The rough bandage he'd put on earlier was soaked through with blood and the skin next to it felt warmer than it should have. Biting his lip, James peeled back the sodden bandage, hardening his heart against the almost inaudible whimpers of pain from Tris. The wound was still bleeding slowly and the area around the puncture was red and inflamed.

"It's not good Tris." He said finally, voice grave. Tris watched him silently. "Infection's already setting in and you're still bleeding, you've lost too much as it is." James's stomach clenched as he realised the necessity of his next statement. "I'm going to have to try and close it."

"What? H…here? But…" Tristan tailed off into silence. Operating on a bad injury like this, in a dark and cold barn with little to no light, no sterile surfaces or adequate equipment and no anaesthetic or painkillers. It was madness. But it was necessary. The young Farnon swallowed in dread. He breathed in deeply and nodded sharply, not looking at James as he did so. Dimly, he felt James squeeze his shoulder in a futile attempt at comfort all the same.

James pushed himself to his feet, brutally forcing back a sudden surge of dizziness. It wouldn't do to let Tris see how bad he still felt, the lad was nervous enough as it was. He made a quick tour of the barn and to his delight found a rusted old pump that still worked. The water was icy cold but it was cleaner than he'd dared hope for. He washed his hands as best he could, enjoying the cold on his throbbing fingers and hunted around for a bucket or something. He found a wooden pail in the corner. It would have to do.

Tristan meanwhile had been worrying about another problem. He felt his eyes drawn to the darkened corner again and again as he tried to work out how to phrase it. In the end he just decided to state it baldly. Hell, it wasn't like James was going to judge him or laugh at him.

"You're going to…to have to tie me down James." The other vet paused, following Tristan's gaze to the thin coiled rope in the corner. "We've no painkillers. I won't be able to keep still an…and you can't knock me out."

"But…No. You're right." God, how he hated this. Hated it all, the necessity, the urgency, the entire situation. He gathered the rope and bound Tristan's hands above his head, hooking the other end of the rope around an ancient ring set in the stone wall. The knots had to be firm enough to hold him, couldn't have Tris flailing in agony and making the injury worse, but he tried not to overtighten them. It wouldn't do to have Tris end up with damaged wrists or hands. Tris shifted uncomfortably at the vulnerable position he was in. He bit his lip as James tied his legs too, to prevent him kicking during the brutal surgery. Unable to move he watched wide eyed as James fished around in his vet's bag, pulling out a variety of instruments.

James laid the scalpel down on his jacket next to the other items. He checked everything over a final time and double checked that he had the water close to hand, the surgery area was as clear as he could make it and his patient was securely constrained. His thoughts shuddered to a halt. His patient. Tristan. Tristan was hurt and he was going to try and operate in circumstances as far from ideal as he could imagine. If anything went wrong, and considering the set-up something was bound to go wrong, he would be responsible for a death. He'd had animals die under his knife before, creatures he hadn't been able to save for one reason or another but…well, there was a vast amount of difference between a horse and a human being. Particularly a human being you knew and liked.

His hands were shaking he realised and breathed deeply and calmly in an attempt to steady them. The entire situation terrified him, the overwhelming responsibility. Hell, how could he ever face his partner again if Tris died at his hand? How could he face Helen? Or Mrs Hall? How could he ever face himself again if this went wrong? But equally, how could he ever face himself if he did nothing, if he hesitated and refused to try and Tris died a slow and painful death due to blood loss or infection that could have been prevented? To act or not to act, either one was a choice that could lead to a terrible conclusion.

James chose to act. He gathered his instruments, screwed up his courage and firmly pushed all emotion aside. There would be time for that later. Right now he needed to concentrate on his work. He picked up the scalpel again.

Helen hurried down the stairs, fully dressed and with hair roughly brushed. Siegfried was standing by the door looking stricken.

"What's the matter?" Helen asked, aware of the note of worry in her voice but unable to stop it. Siegfried started a little, just noticing her. He sighed and gestured to the door. Unsure, Helen approached and opened it. She closed it again hurriedly as a thousand snowflakes swirled in, dancing through the air so thickly and in such amounts that visibility was reduced to absolutely nothing. She stared, horrified at Siegfried. He nodded grimly back.

"There's no chance we can go out in that, Helen dear. Not in the dark at any rate."

"But James! And Tris! Siegfried, they could be hurt, they might need us!"

"Helen, these are not condition we could possibly drive in!"

"Then I'll walk!"

"Don't be ridiculous Helen; you'd freeze to death before you found them."

"But if they're out there and injured Siegfried…every second might be vital!"

"We wouldn't do them a blind bit of good if we ended up in an accident ourselves. We'll just have to wait until its light and we can see again."

"I can't bear it!" Helen walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa, dropping her head into her hands. She heard Siegfried following ad felt a touch on her shoulder. Opening her eyes she saw Siegfried kneeling in front of her, her strain and fear reflected on his face.

"I know. I know Helen, but there's still a chance they're alright. If the driving became impossible they might have stopped somewhere for shelter, perhaps somewhere without a telephone."

"But what if they haven't Siegfried? What if they're out there waiting for us?"

"Then we'll go out the very second its light enough to see. If the weather's too much for the car I'll take the mare out and find them, she doesn't mind a bit of snow."

Helen sighed shakily and turned her attention to the French windows, watching for the first tinge of dawn light. Prayers for her husband's and Tris's safety ran endlessly through her head. Siegfried sat next to her quietly and she could tell his thoughts were identical to hers.

Please let them be alright, don't let them be hurt, or worse. Let us be on time, let them be safe, God please let them be safe…