Disclaimer: See Ch 1.
Spoilers: Season 1, Between "Camera" and "Meow."
Reviews: Please! Thanks to all who've taken the trouble.
___________________________________________________
Max burst in the door of the cabin and turned to pull the chair in after her. She had wasted precious time getting the pick-up running, hoping they could wait in the warmth of the cab, before discovering the gas gauge was sitting on empty. Now her actions were taking on a renewed sense of urgency. Slamming the door closed with her foot, she scanned her surroundings, the old space heater pushed back into a corner of the den immediately catching her attention.
Leaving the wheelchair, she ran to the bedroom. The smaller room would be easier to heat, but an icy blast coming through the shattered window hit her full in the face as soon as she opened the door. Quickly, she searched through the small built-in closet, grabbing its only contents, a light summer-weight blanket.
Back in the den, she fidgeted with the butane heater until the flame caught and the heating grid started to glow orange in the darkness. In the growing light, she noticed two pillar candles on the mantle and lit them off the heater, ignoring the intense heat radiating toward her fingertips. Leaving them on the floor, she turned hesitantly toward the chair still sitting in the middle of the room. Her breath caught as she saw the bluish white tint of his face and the stillness of his body, all signs of shivering absent.
When her hand touched his, she flinched at the coldness of his skin. She struggled with his jacket, Logan too far gone to help. If he was conscious of her actions at all, it was impossible to tell. His head lolled to the side and his breathing was difficult to hear over the rapid beating of her heart. Her movements became more desperate as she continued to pull off his soaked clothing.
Once his undershirt hit the floor she lifted him gently to the sofa and pulled the heater as close to it as she dared. Cursing, she fumbled with the laces of his boots before frantically stripping off the remainder of his clothes. She covered him quickly with the blanket and ran to gather the few dustsheets draped over the sparse furnishing in the room. Flinging them over him also she hesitated, seeing the red stain on the faded white fabric. Realizing it was her blood seeping from the cut on her hand, she ignored it and went in search of any other coverings that may be in the cabin. There was nothing.
Ripping his t-shirt into a make-shift bandage, she wrapped it around her left palm, before starting to strip off her own clothing. As her jacket and sweatshirt fell on top of the heap of sodden clothes on the floor, she felt a trickle of warmth down her face and realized she was crying. Giving into her desperation, she found herself sobbing as she stood naked, looking down at Logan. His face seemed so still, lacking the strength and energy that usually defined him.
Her fear was as tangible as the cold enveloping her own body. Quickly she scrambled under the covers and wrapped herself around him, careful to move him as little as possible. If she could keep him warm and still until help arrived, he would be alright. Her mind clung to that though as she felt the slow beat of his heart against her breast.
"Logan, come on damn it." She found herself willing him back to consciousness as she felt the warmth building between their bodies. There was nothing else she could do but sob a prayer to a God she doubted saw her as one of his creations.