Snowed In

Matt Casey's head felt like it was spinning. Everything felt like it was spinning. All he saw was a blurry white, his skin felt ice cold to the touch, even through his clothes he was freezing. He heard a low hum, and after a while he identified it as a car engine, and realized he was riding in a car, and he could feel a warm spurt of air hitting him but it did little to alleviate his sensation of freezing. He continuously rubbed his hands up and down his arms trying to get warm. He faintly recalled having a few drinks somewhere...somewhere...where? Molly's? No, the place had been different, but he didn't know where it was, and he didn't remember leaving. He knew he wasn't driving but his brain was too foggy to focus on who he was riding with then, or to even give it too much thought who he'd left the bar with.

During the ride he absently rubbed his hands together and occasionally breathed on them trying to warm up, all to no avail. Finally he felt the car stop somewhere, and heard the engine cut off. Somebody was talking to him but he couldn't identify the voice and he couldn't make out any of the words being said. He heard a door open, then close, then a few seconds later heard the door on his side open, and was met with a blast of cold air, but also somebody's hand on his wrist helping him out of the car. The snow blinded him as he was led up a sidewalk to a porch, and heard a door unlock and swing open, and was led inside. It was dark, but warm, but he was still freezing, his teeth were chattering, his legs knocked together.

"I'm cold," he said weakly, not even aware who he was saying it to.

He felt a pair of hands on his back and felt himself being turned, and led up a set of stairs. He didn't know where they were going, all he knew was he couldn't stop shaking and shivering. A few times he missed the step and almost fell, but whoever was with him kept a tight grip on him and made sure he stayed balanced. They reached the top and he felt a carpeted floor under him, but he had no idea where they were going.

A door opened, a light came on and blinded him again, he covered his eyes with his hands and groaned in pain as he was led over to the other side of the room. He heard a familiar sound of sheets rustling and then felt himself being pushed down on a bed. A set of hands grabbed his boot and pulled it off, then the other, then his socks, then he felt somebody grab the bottom of his shirt and pull it up and off over his head. Now he was really cold as he laid back against the cold sheets and continued moaning and shivering. A cold breeze swept over him just before something heavy draped over his body, and he slowly realized it was the top sheet and covers. They were cold too, but they also blocked out any further cold air, so that was a small relief. The sheets were soft and comfortable even if they weren't warm, and he found himself moaning in pleasure at how nice they felt against his skin. He rolled one way, then the other feeling the cotton move against him, it was comfortable enough but he tried to get his body comfortable enough to sleep. He felt a hum working up from his throat as he finally settled on his right side curled under the covers, he tried to say 'thank you' to the person who'd brought him there but he couldn't get the words to actually form.

Through the covers he felt a hand sharply pat him on the shoulder, then the lights went out and he was enclosed in darkness. He remembered nothing after that.

Matt Casey was aware of a dull throbbing in his head, a clear sign that he'd had too much to drink the night before. The rest of him however was nice and cozy in a soft warm bed and he felt like he could stay there forever. Against his eyelids he was aware of a sensation of a dim light from somewhere. That meant it was morning.

Casey half opened his eyes curiously. The room was dark, but it was light through the window because of the snow, though the sun wasn't out yet. He turned and faced the window that looked out into the snow-covered neighborhood, but it wasn't any neighborhood he'd seen before. He didn't recognize the houses down below, and for that matter, he rolled over the other way and looked around. He didn't recognize this room. Where the hell was he?

Not ready to get up just yet, Casey lay there in the silence and tried to think back to last night. He'd been drinking, and he'd left the bar with somebody, but who? He tried to remember but nothing was coming to him. It wasn't that he'd never woken up in a strange bed in a strange place before, but it always made him uneasy when he couldn't remember who he'd gone home with, or for that matter what had happened the night before. The whole bed was messed up but he woke up in the middle of it so that didn't offer any clues if somebody had actually been with him last night or not.

Slowly, groggily, he tried to push the covers back and get up but he was slow to move, even slower to think, he felt like his head was in a fog.

The door creaked open and Casey turned his head to see who it was, then he felt his eyes double in size and he felt awake and alert now as he sat up and saw Hank Voight standing in the doorway.

"Voight?" Casey was so dumbstruck that he couldn't even talk for a minute. He shook his head and asked the cop, "What's going on? Where are we?"