As always, my thanks to chelsie fan. And to everyone reading - Happy Christmas!

"Elsie!...Elsie!"

His voice competed with the wind, which whipped across his face and seemed to be going right through his coat. He didn't feel the cold. He felt only panic. Blind, unadulterated panic.

"Elsie!"

She couldn't have gone far, not in weather like this. He swept the electric torch out in front of him, wondering if he should keep searching by himself or if it was better to go back to call for more help. She was out here, somewhere.

The draft had woken him, and when heinvestigated, he found the back kitchen door swung wide open. He assumed the wind must have blown it, and he almost slammed it shut, but something odd caught his eye. Footprints in the snow. That led away from the house.

"Elsie!"

The wind had kicked up too much snow for him to follow her footsteps for more than about ten feet. He tried to calm his mind and think rationally. Where would she have gone? Where should he look first? But nothing about this was rational, and he found himself groping in the dark for an idea. He didn't even know how long she'd been out here.

"ELSIE!"

Her empty bed confirmed his worst fears, and he dressed in a flash, grabbing his coat and boots and the electric torch Mr. Branson had insisted upon for emergencies. Charles was most grateful for it now.

He moved the light along the row of trees that edged their property when it reflected strangely off of something. He looked closer and realized it was a bit of metal. Her wedding ring.

What he'd mistaken for a clump of shrubbery from a distance was actually his wife huddled on the ground and his heart leapt from his stomach to his throat as he ran to her.

"Elsie. Elsie it's me."

Her body was shivering violently, and she didn't respond. Charles tucked the torch into his coat pocket and wasted no time in pulling her into his arms and picking her up. She hadn't gotten very far from the house in the end – he could still see very dimly the back kitchen door.

Once inside he took her straight to the bathroom, pausing only to switch the kitchen light on. There was no electricity in the bathroom, but the light bleeding from the kitchen would do.

"Ch…Charles?" her voice was quiet, but he was so relieved to hear it.

"I'm right here. You're all right," he told her, setting her down on the bathmat. "We're going to get you warm."

Charles had seen frostbite before, back in his early days at Downton when one of the footmen had snuck out and ended up locked out of the house for the night. Foolish lad. Dr. Clarkson's recommendation at the time had been to warm up the poor fellow in the bath very slowly to avoid any tissue damage, so that was Charles' plan now.

In the light, it looked as if her fingers and toes had suffered the worst of it. She'd been wearing only her nightgown, and now it clung to her, soaking wet.

"This needs to come off," he told her, tugging gently at the sleeve of her gown. "Can you take it off yourself?"

He thought it might be better if she did it. He didn't even know how it untied. It was immediately clear that she couldn't remove the garment, though she moved her hands towards the buttons down the front in a futile attempt.

"I've got it," he reassured her, moving her hands away. "I've got you. You're fine."

Once his fingers found the buttons, he stripped off the soaking wet nightgown with such urgency it was a small miracle he didn't rip it in two. He'd never considered if women wore underclothing to bed, but apparently the answer was no. She curled up, trying desperately to be warmer, or perhaps to cover herself. Her words were mostly incoherent mumbles. He lifted her into the tub and started the taps, careful to keep the temperature only lukewarm. He'd never seen her any thing close to naked before, and in fact, he didn't really see her as naked now. He didn't take in her breasts, or the curve of her hip. He saw only her blue lips, how horribly white and hardened the skin on her hands and feet were, and how violently she still shivered.

"Elsie-"

His words were interrupted by her shriek of pain as the water touched her toes. She scrambled away as if it had burned her, hitting her back hard on the wall of the tub.

Charles checked the water temperature again, but it was barely warm. "Elsie, it's all right."

"Burns…" she choked out, sobbing. "It…burns."

"It's only lukewarm, I promise," he told her. It was like she didn't even hear him; she squirmed in agony, trying in vain to get away from the water that was slowly rising. He tried to hold her still by grasping her shoulders, but she twisted out of his grip, sloshing water out of the tub.

"Elsie, calm down. I know it hurts, but you need to-" Her reply came in the form of her elbow slamming into his arm. She was going to hurt herself, quite possibly by hitting her head if he didn't stop this. There was nothing for it. He removed his boots and his coat, leaving him in only his pajamas, and he climbed into the tub behind her.

"It's all right. I'm right here. I know it hurts, but I'm right here." She ignored him, crying and struggling to move away from the rising water, but now when she went backwards, she was pushing into his chest instead of the hard porcelain tub wall. He shifted so his legs wrapped around hers, protecting them from hitting the sides, and he gripped her shoulders gently, whispering in her ear. "I know it hurts, but it's necessary. I'm sorry. Try to stay still for me, please?"

Eventually she stopped fighting him and collapsed backwards. "It… hurts," she mumbled.

"I know." And he was glad of it. Pain meant there was hope. Her fingers in particular looked badly frostbitten, the skin ghastly white, contrasting with the bright red elsewhere. Eventually the water level was up past her stomach and he leaned forward to turn off the taps. They barely both fit in the tub, and now that she was calmer, he was more acutely aware of her nakedness, her nearness, and the uncomfortable fact that his own pajamas were now soaking wet. It helped that she was facing away from him. He had only her back and her tangled hair to contend with. Not knowing what else to do, he reached for a washcloth.

She was still crying a touch as she spoke, but it was almost secondary. A default reaction to the pain she was in. "Charles? What's happening?"

Did she not know? Not remember? Charles rubbed her back as gently as he could with the damp cloth. "You went outside, remember?"

"Yes."

"And I came and got you," he told her. "Do you remember that?"

"Yes." She bit her lip to push back more tears. "Charles, what's happened to my hands?"

"They're numb, but they're going to be okay," he told her.

"All right." She was almost like a small child, easily accepting what he said. She leaned forward, away from him or as far away as one could get in such a small space. He added a little soap to the cloth and washed the dirt from her back and shoulders, wordlessly. It was soothing, somehow. When he was finished he offered the cloth to her. "Can you hold it?" he asked her.

She could, though with very trebling fingers. Her right hand was particularly unsteady, so she used her left one to run the cloth down her arms, her front and her legs. Her head was still a little woozy, but she could feel him around her, behind her, ready to steady her the moment she tipped sideways, which she did several times as she washed herself. Charles did his best to stare only at her back, focusing on keeping her upright. When she had finished, she leaned back against his chest.

"My hair," she murmured, touching it with one hand. Her words were much clearer now. "It's tangled something awful."

"Would…" Charles cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to avert his gaze from her breasts that were just visible above the cool, soapy water. "Would you like me to wash it for you?"

"Would you? There's a hairbrush. You'll need it…it's somewhere." Her words may have been clearer, but she was still fairly disoriented.

Just then there was a loud knocking on the front door, which startled them both.

"What's that?" she wondered out loud.

"The door. I'll be right back," he said, stepping out of the bath. Quickly, he pulled his housecoat over his sopping wet pajamas and scurried to the front door. He opened it to find Mr. Andrews, their closest neighbour, standing on the step, lantern in hand.

"Is everything all right, Mr. Carson?" Mr. Andrews asked hesitantly. "Only, I heard some shouting, and Bess wouldn't let me be until I'd come over to check."

"We're all right, thank you, Mr. Andrews," said Charles firmly, anxious to get back to Elsie.

Mr. Andrews looked down at Charles's clearly soaking wet pajama bottoms. "You're sure now? Nothing we can do?"

"No, thank you… Actually…" Charles glanced over his shoulder as if somehow he expected his wife to be hovering there. He lowered his voice. "We're fine for now, but it would be a great help if you could send word to Dr. Clarkson to stop in tomorrow morning, if possible."

"Is Mrs. Carson all right? Are you sure you don't need me to fetch him now?" Charles could see the hint of genuine worry in the Mr. Andrews' eyes. He must have heard her cries. Who knew what the man had been imagining?

"There's no need," Charles reassured him. "But it would be a great help if you could get that message to him for me."

Mr. Andrews smiled slightly. "Consider it done, Mr. Carson. Take care."

"And you," said Charles with finality. He was eager to step back inside the house, back to Elsie, and away from the freezing air. He'd left a trail of wet footprints down the hall, but he would deal with that later. He snatched Elsie's hairbrush from her bedroom and returned swiftly to the bathroom. She was still sitting in the bath, her knees now drawn up to her chest, and she'd started to shiver some again. The bath water had grown too cool.

"Elsie? I'm going to add some more hot water, all right?" She nodded, and he turned on the tap, thanking God that this modern convenience was at their disposal. He'd thought it a luxurious indulgence when he'd first learned of it, but not anymore.

"Who…?"

"Mr. Andrews was just checking in. I've told him everything's fine."

She nodded again. "Good." She'd stopped shivering, now that the bath had more warm water.

"Do you still want me to wash your hair?" he asked, actually hoping she'd say yes.

"If…if you wouldn't mind?" she said quietly. "I can't do it, it's all tangled and my hands hurt so much."

As her head grew clearer she began to think she ought to be terribly embarrassed, but strangely she wasn't. His presence set her remarkably at ease, as if washing her hair in the middle of the night was a perfectly normal activity. She still held her knees to her chest, despite the fact that any modesty she might have had was surely lost already.

He was already soaking wet; there was nothing to lose by climbing back into the tub.

"What do I do?" he asked, when faced with the tangled knot at the back of her head.

"Brush it through," she replied, "until it pulls straight."

He took the hairbrush and did his best to work out the knots. She winced audibly at one point, and he stopped immediately.

"I'm hurting you," he worried.

"Not half so much as it would hurt if I tried to do it myself," she pointed out, cradling her fingers in front of her. "It's fine."

After that he worked in silence, and the knots slowly gave way. Next, he worked the shampoo gently through it. It was oddly calming. He massaged her scalp, probably longer than necessary, but running his fingers through her hair like this was a luxury he'd never dreamed of indulging in.

Never had another person touched Elsie like this before. It almost made her want to cry, for reasons she didn't quite understand. Where had this all come from? This was far and above the call of duty when it came to caring for her; surely it was. And he'd offered. She hadn't even asked - he'd offered. She was even sorry when he'd finished, despite him taking his time. She was afraid to break the silence between them. It seemed so peaceful and yet so precarious.

"All finished," he said softly. He got up and fetched a few towels. They immediately discovered that her feet hurt far too much to stand on, so he lifted her onto the - now rather wet - bathmat and wrapped her up in the largest towel they owned.

"Do you have a second nightgown?" he asked her.

"Top drawer," she answered, pulling the towel tighter around herself.

After the intimacy of what they had just done, looking through her underthings in a dresser should have been a walk in the park, but Charles found himself blushing as his eyes skimmed over her drawers and neatly rolled stockings until he found her other nightgown.

"Here we are," he said, as a means of announcing his presence to her when he returned. "Your nightgown."

"I can put it on," she informed him, and she reached out for it, the towel slipping slightly. He placed it carefully in her hands, ready to take it from her if it caused her any pain to touch it, but it didn't seem to.

"I'm going to get into dry things myself. I'll be back," he promised her. She nodded her understanding.

Fully dressed in dry pajamas, Charles made his way back to his wife, who'd managed quite well with getting on her nightgown, save the fastening of a few buttons. Still, her feet hurt her immensely, so he took it upon himself to carry her to her bed. He threw an extra blanket over her for good measure and tucked her in tightly. He had a million questions, but they would all have to wait until morning.

"Warm enough?" he asked her.

"Yes, thank you," she replied quietly.

"Good night then, Elsie."

"Charles?" she asked, her voice cracking slightly.

"Yes?"

"Would…would you stay with me please?" As if to make her offer more obvious, she shuffled over to make room for him. It was so dark in the room that he could hardly make out her face, but the pleading in her voice said it all.

Charles swallowed. "Of course I will."

He climbed into bed beside her. It felt so natural and so foreign at the same time.

"Thank you," she whispered gratefully. He reached out and stroked her cheek before rolling over.

"Good night, my dear."

TBC...at a later date. I'm afraid I'm suffering from a severe illness. If all goes well, hopefully I will be posting new chapters sometime around the end of February. My apologies for the long break. I'm loathe to do it, but don't have much choice. Hope to see you in a few months time.

K