Disclaimer: -debates thinking about not owning this film, decides to scrape forehead on the floor instead- I love the all mighty team that is Jake Gyllenhaal, Emmy Rossum, Dennis Quaid, Roland Emmerich, etc., etc. I own nothing…still. And I don't think I will ever own anything of this magnitude. Which is depressing…anywhoo! On with the fluff!

A/N: This ought to be the final addition to this, unless some randomness pops into my brain. Which is doubtful. So…enjoy, read, review. Not necessarily in that order.

She was asleep. Still.

Sam Hall paced the library floor, his pulse racing. Laura was still sleeping on the couch, her beautiful face pale and drawn. She was breathing normally (thank God), but the fact that she hadn't woken once in nearly twenty hours was beginning to make him a little bit ill.

She had been sick, blood poisoning of some kind. He'd risked life and limb to get the penicillin that could save her life, but now…

He fell to his knees beside the couch, reaching up and grasping her hand between both of his own. Her skin was cold. It wasn't like his own hands were toasty warm, but still. It wasn't the most comforting thing in the world.

"Laura, please." The words were hoarse, only a whisper. He hadn't meant to say them aloud, but once he started, he found that he could not stop himself. "Laura, don't do this to me. All of this…all of this, everything I did, was for you. You can't leave me. I don't think…I can't live without you, you don't understand. And maybe you don't feel the same but…but…."

The words, useless as they were, failed him. Sam bowed his head against his stomach, allowing his tears to fall. His shoulders shook; the others probably thought he was a complete pansy, but he didn't really care. She was the only one who mattered, the only one whose point of view was of any importance whatsoever. If she was gone…there was nothing left.

A tiny moan escaped him at the thought and he nuzzled against her, trying to drag some semblance of warmth and comfort from the rise and fall of her chest. She was still breathing, he reminded himself. That was the only reassuring factor that kept him from losing it entirely.

Suddenly, something changed. He jumped; a hand was stroking his hair, fingers threading into the soft brown locks. He lifted his head to see Laura's big brown eyes staring back at him, crinkled ever so slightly in a smile.

"Hey," she said softly in a voice as hoarse as his own. "Miss me?"

He laughed giddily. "You're…you're…"

"Gorgeous? Charming? Unbearably amazing in every possible way? Sam Hall, you flatter me." She coughed.

"Are you all right?" It occurred to him that he had asked this question of her much more frequently than he'd ever asked anything else of her.

Her smile widened. "Always worried, aren't you? Big softie."

"Only when it comes to the people I love," he confessed. He clamped a hand over his own mouth, blinking. "Did I just say that?"

"Yes, Sammy, I believe you did." Her grin was still taunting, but there was a look behind her eyes that betrayed her true emotions. "I'm glad you did."

"Yeah?" He raised his eyes to meet her's. "You aren't just saying that to—mmph!"

Her hands had hooked around the back of his neck, clutching almost desperately to the rear of his skull as she pressed her mouth against his. There was something about her movements that proved to him that she was afraid—maybe more than afraid. She had been expecting death to grab her, just as he had, and the knowledge that she was all right…Well, she wasn't using any specific words, but her tongue and lips were doing a pretty good job of conveying her emotions.

Sam tangled his fingers in her curls, allowing his own terror and relief to filter out of his body through the kiss.

Wondering if he was insane, he broke the kiss and panted, "How are you feeling? Really, I mean. The last thing I want is for you to get weak and pass out."

"Sam." She bit her lip, smiling in the way only she could: shy and sexy at the same time. "I want you to listen to me very carefully, okay? I. Am. Fine."

He kissed her as the last word fell from her lips. This time it was she who pulled back, exhaling shakily.

"What?" he asked anxiously, sure that she was about to black out on him.

"Lots of people," she murmured. "I'm not big on performing in front of crowds."

It was true: everyone appeared to be awake and intrigued by the two teenagers. Sam's face flushed and he leaned back.

"What are you staring at?" he snapped. Brian laughed.

"About time, man," he said, reaching out a hand to J.D., palm up. "I win."

"You were betting?" Sam growled as J.D. handed a twenty to the self-proclaimed nerd. "On us?"

"Of course," Brian said matter-of-factly. "You were being slower than any other man in love on Earth, Sam. It was almost too sad to watch."

"So we found a way to pull amusement from the humiliation," J.D. finished. "But if it'll make you feel better, we'll pretend to go to sleep."

"We're actually going to sleep," the librarian informed them all. "Just because the world is freezing around us does not mean we need to give in to insomnia."

Laura collapsed back against her pillow. "She's right. We'll need our strength to survive."

"Gee, thanks, Cynic-Girl," Brian muttered. Sam chuckled and lightly kissed her forehead.

"I'll be right over here," he promised as he retreated to a spot just by the fireplace.

She nodded, ignoring J.D.'s high-pitched, "But Sam, sweetie, shouldn't you be keeping her warm with your sexy bod?"

Sam shuddered. "I never want to hear my name and the phrase 'sexy bod' come out of your mouth again."

He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, but he was woken by a sharp light. He frowned, rubbing his eyes with one gloved-hand.

"Who is that?" Laura asked softly. Sam's eyes snapped open.

"My father," he answered, awed. It was true; Jack Hall was standing just across the room, shining a high-powered flashlight on his son and looking more than a little shocked.

Laura drew in a breath as Sam moved past her. "You made it," he stated, astonished, just before throwing his arms around his snow-covered father.

Jack gasped. "Of course I did."

For a moment, Sam forgot about all the problems he'd had with his father in the past. Tears sprang to his eyes and he clutched Jack's arms, promising himself that he would never again curse the man's name, no matter what happened.

Finally, Jack pulled back, wiping at his own wet cheeks. "Come on," he commanded. "We're going to get out of here."

Brian gave a little whoop of joy and slapped his palm against J.D.'s. Sam grinned and turned to look at Laura, who beamed tearfully back. The homeless man's dog gave a cheerful bark.

"How are we getting home?" Sam asked as Laura got up and came over to lean against him. His father's eyes flicked to the couple and he smirked. "Dad?" Sam pressed.

"By helicopter, most likely," Jack replied. He extended a hand to Laura. "I'm Jack Hall. Are you by some chance Laura Chapman?"

"That's me." She accepted the handshake and nodded.

"Nice to meet you."

"O-k," Sam cut in before his father could say anything else. "Helicopter, right. When's that coming?"

A man Sam had never seen before prodded Jack's shoulder. "I put in the call," he said. "They'll be here in an hour or two. Enough time for us to get out into the open where they can see us."

"Good." Jack clapped his son on the shoulder and nodded. "Your mother will be thrilled to see you, Sam."

A little over an hour later, the small mob was stumbling across the frown wasteland that had once been the great city of New York. Very little skin was exposed on anyone; Laura was wrapped in a thick blanket and pressing herself against a seven-layer-clad Sam and she was still shivering. The thought crossed the boy's mind that perhaps this was all a mistake, that maybe they would end up freezing to death after all.

Then the steady whup-whup of helicopter blades reached his ears and he grinned from ear to ear.

"Jack!" a man cried, leaping from the 'copter and coming over to shake Sam's father's hand. "It's good to see you! C'mon, let's get you on board."

The freezing people hauled themselves onto the cramped helicopter. As he sank down in a window seat, with Laura beside him, it occurred to Sam that he hated flying. Hated it more than anything in the world, in fact. And yet here he was, in a flying vehicle and not caring one bit.

Laura nudged him with her shoulder and pointed out the window. "Look," she told him softly. He did—and nearly gasped aloud. Helicopters were swarming everywhere like giant honeybees, rescuing people from God only knew where.

Leaning back, Sam smiled. Laura laid her head on his shoulder, cuddling against him; he pressed his cheek against the top of his head. His father was grinning again, the wide grin of a man who has just succeeded at some fantastic feat. Sam gave a slight nod.

It was over. It had taken thousands of lives and nearly killed him, but the storm of the century was over. Sam Hall had not only survived, but gotten a girlfriend out of the situation. And he was being hailed, if only in silence, as a hero. Maybe, he thought, closing his eyes and reveling and the feeling of Laura's shoulder rubbing against his own, he wasn't such a weak kid after all.

A/N: The end! Okay, so I don't particularly like the way I wrote some of this, but if I were to go back it would just get all muddled. So I'm leaving it. I hope it does this couple and this film justice.