Behave yourselves, folks- :) - read it for what it is...

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Chapter 6: Desperate Measures

"Tara!"

She was huddled in a ball, gripping one of the fence posts for dear life. There was little response as he knelt and touched her, but after a moment she looked up at him. She was shaking so badly that he could barely determine how badly off she was. As long as she's still shivering, there's a good chance.

"M-m-myles?" Her voice was so faint he barely heard her over the wind. Very gently, he scooped her up in his arms and started back, keeping his hip against the fence.

"It's all right." He prayed it really would be. "Listen to me. Can you count backwards from 100 by nines? Try for me, please."

Her voiced was slurred as she responded, too slowly. "Uh…100… 91… oh, I d-d-don't know, M-m-myles. Who c-c-c-cares, anyway?"

His pace increased; she wasn't in life-threatening shape just yet, but she wasn't far from it. There were only 4 degrees of temperature separating mild and severe hypothermia, and she was likely edging toward that fourth degree. The fact that she couldn't work the cognitive puzzle he'd asked of her was fair proof of that. Her collapse may have been from exhaustion, but the pauses in her shivering struck fear in his heart. Aaron's shivering had eventually stopped altogether, before he went semi-conscious and then his heart stopped.

It took almost twice as long for him to cover the 75 yards he'd just come; the blizzard was in full force now, the sky as dark as twilight at 11:30 in the morning, and the wind screaming like an overloaded freight train.

By the time they got back to the inn, he was exhausted, but his worry for her kept him moving. He slipped up the stairs, trying to be as quiet as possible so he wouldn't have to explain what his "wife" had been doing out in the middle of a blizzard. He also knew he was on his own for the most part – he had no idea where the hospital was in Camden, and trying to drive in this storm would likely end up killing them both.

She was quiet, too quiet as he closed the door to their room and set her down on the bed. All of her remaining energy seemed to be taken up with the shakes that racked her body. Quickly, he got hot water running in the bathroom sink, and then stripped off her soaked jacket and his parka.

"Tara." He got little response, and the listlessness in her eyes stoked the fear all over again. He tried desperately to concentrate on all he'd ever learned about treating hypothermia.

Try to raise the core temperature from the inside as well as the outside. Best place to start – and better for both of them if this worked. He grabbed a small cup from his overnight bag – sinus problems often plagued him in the winter, and he'd learned to pack a "steam cup" when he traveled; the special lid made it easy to inhale hot vapors to ease the sinus pain. Warm, moist oxygen would be what she needed — or, it was a start.

But first he had to get her out of those soaked clothes. He grabbed a terry robe from a hook nearby and draped it over her shoulders. He'd deal with any embarrassment later; right now, her life was at stake. Thankful she'd not worn a pullover, he made short work of the heavy button-down shirt. The jeans took a little more doing, since they were all but frozen stiff, but finally she was wrapped in the warm robe with as little embarrassment on either of their parts as he'd been able to manage.

He filled the steam cup from the sink, replaced the lid, and returned to her side, holding the cup to her nose and mouth as he wrapped his other arm around her. Come on, Tara. Fight it. Don't give up on me.

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A tap echoed on the door. "Mr. Leland? Mrs. Leland? Lunch is ready."

Ruth's voice brought his head up. He gently moved his arm from around Tara, letting her lay on the bed as a particularly strong round of shivers took her. He had to protect her, and their covers (though that was the last item on his list right now), but he also needed a bit of help.

He opened the door. "Ruth. I'm sorry; I'm afraid we won't make it for lunch right now. You see, my wife sometimes gets terrible migraines, and she's in the middle of one right now."

"The poor dear!" Ruth exclaimed. "Is there anything I can get for her?"

It was the perfect opening. "Perhaps some tea, if you don't mind. She can't eat a great deal, but a cup of hot tea usually helps a little."

The older lady patted his arm. "Don't you worry. I'll be right back with a tray for the both of you. Something light, unless you'd like a bowl of chowder."

He smiled. "That actually sounds marvelous about now. Thank you, Ruth."

She bustled away, and he returned to Tara's side. Kneeling down next to the bed, he brushed her hair away from her face. "Tara? Come on, talk to me. Anything."

Another round of shivers took her, and he moved up onto the bed and drew her close. Her voice was still slurred, but it seemed a little better.

"I s-s-s-sorry. Want-t-t-ted t-t-t-to…"

"I know," he replied quietly. "But you don't have to prove you're as good an agent as the rest of us. Certainly not to me."

"C-c-c-c…camera… in m-my p-p-pock-k-et… ok-k-kay?"

He smiled against her hair. You're too much, Williams. "I'll check in a few minutes. Right now let's get you warmed up."

She nodded against his chest, almost clinging to him as the shivers continued. He picked her up and moved her over to the sofa in front of the fireplace. It didn't take long to get a fire roaring, and Ruth tapped on the door just as he stood up.

"Here you go, Mr. Leland. I hope she's feeling better soon. If she's hungry later, you come find me, all right?"

"Thank you, Ruth. And it's Myles, please." He took the tray from her and closed the door, immediately moving back to Tara's side.

Her eyes were still dull, almost lifeless; a marked contrast from the bright, intelligent snap in them he'd come to appreciate. He mixed a cup of weak tea, and held it so she could drink. "Tara, come on. We need to get you warmed up. Drink, please."

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It wasn't working; although her shivering hadn't become intermittent, she still wasn't responding, he couldn't get her to eat or drink, and he knew it was only a matter of time before she slipped further into hypothermia, and he'd be helpless to do anything. He had to get her warmed up, and there was only one option left.

He left her huddled on the sofa by the fire, and went over to where her overnight bag was packed. Something dry, lightweight… He pulled out a satin chemise and matching shorts. Yes, that will work!

Returning to the sofa, he took her face in his hands and tried desperately to get her attention. But she was spent, the last remaining ounces of her energy going to simply breathing and shivering.

Forgive me, my dear friend – I hope you'll understand this was the last option available.

It took a few minutes; he tried as hard as he could to spare her any embarrassment, but finally she was dressed in the dry, light clothes. He carried her over to the bed, then stripped down to only his tank shirt and boxers.

As he took her in his arms and held her tightly, covering them both with the thick comforter, he found it ironic that he, whom most of the team would consider the "coldest" among them, was at this moment praying that his own warmth would be enough for her life.

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