After looking at the clock, Sam blinked a few times, not believing he'd stood at the window for nearly 2 hours, lost in his memories. It was now dark outside, but the storm hadn't abated in the slightest. He decided to go downstairs and check the street. If it was reasonable enough, maybe he'd call Josh and go over there. He needed to get away from his apartment for a while. He felt trapped, caged there. He went to the front window of the living room to check the street. It looked OK to drive in. Maybe Josh wouldn't mind if he just showed up and scared him with the fact that he'd driven in this.
Sam stayed there watching the patterns that the snow made as it swirled under the streetlights. He noticed a lone figure coming up the street, fighting its way into the wind through the deep snow. He watched it make its way closer to his townhouse, amazed that someone was actually out in this. The figure stumbled just past his front steps and fell into the snow. He expected them to just get up and keep going. 'Hell, if they made it this far', he thought as he turned from the window, 'a little fall wouldn't stop them'.
He came out of the kitchen with a sandwich and some juice. He set them down on the coffee table and went to turn on the light in the corner near the front window. Glancing out the window as he reached towards the lamp, he saw that the figure hadn't moved from the spot where they'd fallen. In fact, it didn't even look like they'd moved at all.
He went to the front entry to throw on some boots and a coat. According to the forecast he'd gotten from Lt. Lowenbrau for that weekend, it had been quite cold during the day, and at night the temperature would drop even further with wind chills in the single digits to below zero. There was just no way that he could leave them out there; it would just be too cruel. Grabbing his keys from the table, he charged out into the swirling white.
The snow nearly blinded him, and the wind wasn't much help either, since it was spinning the falling snow as well as pulling up flakes from the surface for a repeat aerial performance. The snow on the ground was up to his knees, which made it difficult for him to walk. 'If I didn't enjoy working in the White House so much,' he thought ruefully as he made his way through the snow, 'I'd be booking the next non-stop to LAX. How can anyone live with this?' When he was only a step away from them, he noticed the snow that had collected in the crevices of their coat, hat and anything else they were wearing. He tried to shake the person to wake them, but that wasn't working at all. Knowing that he had to get them inside before this got any worse, he bent over and picked them up, noticing as he did that she had a small handbag clutched in one hand. As he carried her back to his townhouse, he couldn't believe how light she was. He'd have thought for sure if she was this light, she'd have been picked up by the wind and blown to who knows where.
The front door hadn't closed fully when he left, so he was able to kick the door in without disturbing the woman in his arms and shut it behind them. Laying her on one of the couches in the living room, he threw off his coat and began to take off all of the outerwear she had on. Sam could see that she knew how to dress for the weather. He pulled off her hat and scarf and saw that her face was bright red from the cold. Her gloves came off and her hands were nearly as cold as her face.
Propping her up on the couch, he removed her coat and pulled off her boots. Her feet and toes felt like ice through her socks; they and her jeans were wet through with snow, as was her coat. Nervously, he slid a tentative hand up her back beneath the shirt she was wearing and discovered that she was chilled there as well. He gently laid her back on the couch and went upstairs to get her a pair of his socks, a sweatshirt and some sweats. She had to get out of those clothes before she got much colder.
She was still out when Sam gingerly put her in the sweats that he'd brought down. He'd never seen this woman, and the last thing that he wanted was her accusing him of rape or assault when all he'd done was bring her in from the freezing cold. He started to gently massage her feet, taking great care not to rub them in case she had frostbite, to bring back the blood supply. He did the same with her hands, noticing as he removed the ring and watch she wore how small and delicate they were. After slipping a pair of socks over them to help keep them warm, he moved up to her face.
He worked on warming her ears first, studying her face as he did so. It was round, with pale freckles that danced across her face over her cheekbones and small nose. Moving his hands from her ears to her face, he noticed her small, pink mouth. He was overcome with the urge to kiss her, but knew he couldn't. Brushing his thumbs over her eyelids, he wondered what kind of eyes she had. Gentle, kind and compassionate or hard, icy and unreadable? What color were they: green, hazel, or blue, like his own? He softly touched her dark blonde hair and admired the copper and light blonde that showed up here and there. They made her hair look almost auburn with bits of gold.
As he touched her hair, he heard her moan softly and shudder with cold. She began to shiver slightly and spoke in a barely audible whisper, Need to...get...home. So... very... cold." He tucked an extra blanket around her, started to touch her hair and whispered quietly to calm her fears. "Hush, you're safe and warm here. You're out of the snow and wind. Just rest, I'll be right here to take care of you. Sleep, my little china doll, sleep." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt like he'd made a huge mistake. She wasn't 'his' by any stretch. What was he thinking when he'd said it? As the minutes ticked by, he convinced himself that he'd said it as an endearment, something to make her feel safe and secure so she could rest. He tucked a second blanket around her feet to make sure that she was good and warm.
Once she'd settled into sleep again, Sam let himself relax and eat his sandwich. Something about her was too familiar, but he couldn't place it. He felt like he already knew her a little bit, but there was no way for him to know for sure, not now anyway. He let the thought go and worked on the remarks that were needed for the middle of the week. Maybe if he got most of it done now, the sooner Toby could hack it up and it could be edited and polished in time for the event. He worked on them a while, glancing up every so often to the young woman bundled up on his couch. During one of these glances, he noticed the clock out of the corner of his eye. 2:20AM. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He made sure everything was locked up and off for the night.
He was afraid that moving her up to the guest room might wake her, but he didn't want to be far in case she did wake up during the night. Sam knew that she'd be confused and disoriented if she was by herself, but rest in a proper bed would probably help her more than anything. Making his decision, he swept her up and brought her upstairs to the guest room. He made sure that she had plenty of blankets in case she got cold again during the night, the nightlight in the room was bright enough for her to find her way, and that he left the vanity light on. He opened the blinds slightly, allowing some of the light from the street to filter in. As he left the room, he made sure that she was tucked in securely, smoothed back her hair and kissed her forehead lightly. "Good night, my little china doll. You're safe here." Even in this light she looked so familiar, but he shook it off and went to bed himself.