A/N: Happy Holidays, folks! I knocked this piece out over the course of about six hours. I was seeking to write a decent oneshot as a holiday gift to the readers who enjoy my work. This one is dedicated to the readers who enjoy the Goren/Logan friendship about which I love to write. Enjoy!

Just before Christmas, a huge Nor'easter targeted the Middle Atlantic states, promising a white Christmas for the region. The roads were starting to get bad, and only the hardiest souls ventured out into the worsening storm.

Mike Logan guided his sedan readily around slower moving vehicles. They weren't the only ones out on the road. "So why did you want to head up this way?" he asked his companion.

In the passenger seat, Bobby Goren shrugged. "I don't know. I needed a change of scenery. I thought maybe if I did something different, I could shake this funk I've been in. Maybe some winter camping..."

"Winter camping...now there's two words that should never be used in the same sentence."

Bobby laughed, and it felt good. It had been awhile since he'd laughed a real laugh. "How about ice fishing?"

"Same problem, unless you're putting the fish on ice. Polar bears fish in the ice. We are not polar bears."

"Come on, man. Where's your sense of adventure?"

"It's alive and well and looking for a good time with wildlife named Maisie or Bambi or something like that. Grizzly Adams just doesn't sound like a good time to me."

"So what do you suggest?"

"How about we find the nearest ski area and warm up in front of a nice fire waiting for some gorgeous ski instructor to pay attention to us."

"Suppose that ski instructor's name is Sven?"

"Then you can have him."

Bobby shook his head as he laughed again. "No thanks. I think I'll wait for Holly or Samantha."

"Ah, so you are still interested in girls."

"When wasn't I?"

"You've kinda withdrawn from the playing field lately."

He shrugged. "Yeah, well, when my mom got sick, she kind of monopolized the free time I had. It...It wasn't easy to lose her. Then I got suspended...and everything that came after that...well, let's just say sex has been the last thing on my mind."

"Yeah, I figured that out. I've missed you, buddy. Eames has been giving me a hard time about finding another playmate. I've got no qualms about hitting the clubs alone, but with you, it's just a helluva lot more fun. You're hilarious when you get wasted."

Bobby smiled. "You put on a pretty good show yourself, you know."

Mike glanced at him and grinned. "We make a pretty good team."

"Yeah, I guess we do."

The conversation died off for a few miles as Mike negotiated the slippery highway. There were fewer cars on the road. "What a miserable night to be out driving. Maybe we should have waited to leave."

"If we'd waited, we wouldn't have gone."

"My point exactly. We could be back at your place with a pizza and a couple of beers watching a ball game or something." He glanced at the dash clock. "Or we'd have finished the pizza and the beer and we'd be crashed by now."

"I just don't want to be home for a couple of days. You didn't have to come along."

"What are you running away from, Bobby? Or more directly, who are you running away from?"

"I'm not running away from anyone."

"Uh huh. And my great aunt Martha...holy shit, will you look at that asshole?"

Up ahead of them, a dark SUV crested the hill doing close to ninety and became airborne. When all four tires hit the ground, the car began to fishtail before it went into an uncontrolled spin. With a swear, Mike turned the wheel to avoid the spinning car, but it was too late. The SUV slammed into them without decelerating, continuing on to strike the vehicle behind them before it spun off the road and rolled down an embankment into a frozen creek bed.

Mike struggled to regain control of the car, but it clipped a guard rail and sent the sedan flipping into a ditch on the opposite side of the road. The car that had been behind them hit the guardrail full on and started over it, but the rear wheels caught on the rail, hanging it up before it could slide down into the ditch. No more traffic came by on the frozen road and there was no movement within any of the vehicles. The snow continued to fall.

The first thing he became aware of was the cold. Then the pain set in, dull and somewhat removed. He was still in the car, which was on its roof. The cold made it difficult to take stock of his injuries. His head hurt, and there was glass everywhere. He tried to take a deep breath, and gasped as the pain became sharp and intense. "Holy fuck," he growled.

But the pain cleared his head. "Bobby?"

He reached over and felt for a pulse, relief flooding through him when he found one. He looked around to try to determine where they were, but that was impossible upside down within the wrecked car. He looked at his watch. Three hours had passed since the last time he'd noticed the time.

Beside him, Bobby groaned. "Hey," Mike said, squirming closer to him. "Talk to me, Bobby."

Bobby was quiet but he was moving. Finally, he muttered, "Where the hell did you learn to drive?"

"Ha ha, very funny."

But Mike was deeply relieved by the comment. "How badly are you hurt?" Bobby asked.

"Couple of cracked ribs maybe, one helluva headache. It's hard to tell if anything else is wrong from this position. You?"

"Head injury for sure. I can't pinpoint anything else because everything hurts. We've gotta get out of this car."

"And do what? Ski for help? Damn, I left my skis at home."

"First, we have to check on the people in that other car."

"And if they're coherent, I'm gonna slug 'em one for this. I just paid off this damn car."

Bobby shifted until he was able to pull his cell phone from his pocket. "Great. No signal."

"We're screwed," Mike muttered.

"Maybe we'll get a signal up on the road."

"Hope springs eternal. First, we gotta get out of this car."

"Unbuckle your belt."

Mike maneuvered himself until he found the seat belt release button. He pushed it, releasing the buckle, and fell heavily the six inches between his head and the roof of the car. He let out a yelp of pain. Bobby twisted his head to look at him. "You okay?"

Mike remained in his awkward position, groaning for a moment. Slowly, he turned as much as he could and looked at Bobby. "Give it a try. See how much fun it is."

Bobby tried to twist, but pain flared in his side and he almost blacked out. When his vision cleared, Mike had shifted closer to him and pressed his forehead against Bobby's head. "Come on, Bobby," he was saying. "Stay with me."

"Where am I gonna go?" Bobby finally muttered.

Mike breathed another sigh of relief. "Don't scare me like that. What happened?"

"I don't know. I moved."

"Okay, look, I'll reach down and hit the belt release. You brace yourself." He slid his hand along Bobby's side until he found the release. "On three. One...two...three..."

Mike pressed the release and Bobby's head and shoulders thudded into the roof. He made a strangled noise, shifting as much as he could to relieve the pressure on his windpipe. He gasped and groaned. Mike shifted a little and commented, "We didn't think this through very well." There was very little maneuvering room to start with, and neither of them was a small man. Now, they had no room to move. "Now what do we do?"

Bobby tried to move, but between the pain and his position jammed between Mike and the door, he couldn't. "Can you maneuver at all? I can't."

Mike tried shifting. "This is just great," he complained. His fingers found the door handle and he tried opening it. It budged a little then stuck. "Of course...that would be too easy."

"We may not be able to get out of the car," Bobby mused.

"The hell we can't. I am not going to let anyone find us like this."

"Then wriggle your way out of the car and then I'll try to get out."

Mike snorted. "That's easier said than done."

"Quit complaining and just do it. I can't stay like this."

"Okay, okay, I'm going."

After forty-five minutes of slow, painful maneuvering, Mike was finally free of the vehicle. He'd managed to only kick Bobby a few times. Laying on his back in the snow, he struggled to get his breathing under control so it wouldn't hurt so damn much to draw in air. Opening his eyes, he looked up into heavily falling snow. "I hate snow," he muttered.

Inside the car, Bobby had more room to move, but he was bigger than Mike and it was more of a challenge for him to maneuver his body. His claustrophobia had begun to kick in as well, causing more of a hindrance as barely controlled panic made breathing more difficult. Since he didn't have another body to negotiate, it didn't take him quite as much time to free himself from the overturned car.

Mike had gotten off the ground and squatted beside the car, offering encouragement and as much help as he could. Finally free of the car, Bobby remained on his back in the snow. Pain in his side made breathing difficult, but it eased as he calmed down. Mike knelt beside him. "You okay, Bobby?"

"I'm better now. You?"

"Hurts like hell to breathe, but other than that I'm dandy. Aside from my ribs, I don't think I broke anything. Funny how unpredictable injuries in an accident can be."

"Hilarious."

"Seriously, if I came upon this scene, I'd look at that car and think there's no way no one died in that one."

Bobby nodded in agreement. He was much calmer and his mind was beginning to function again. "Do you have any first aid supplies?"

"Yeah. There's a tackle box in the trunk, but I'm warning you—I'm not undressing out here so you can check me for injuries."

"And I'm not going to undress you. You're conscious. You can assess yourself. But the guy in the other car may be hurt."

Mike looked up toward the road. "God, that looks like a long way up."

"We'll manage. Get it."

Mike laid on his back and slid back into the car. When he popped the glove box open, his back up piece narrowly missed his head. He found the flashlight he was looking for. "Think I'll need my insurance card?"

"What?"

"Never mind."

He grabbed the keys from the ignition and pulled himself out of the car. He got up and made his way carefully to the back of the car. Shining the light along the path of disturbed snow, he recreated the trajectory his car had taken to its present resting place. "Holy shit," he said.

The snow on the ground reflected ambient light, making it much brighter than it would otherwise have been. Bobby came around to join him, leaning heavily on the car. He was nauseous and sleepy, a deadly combination.

"Take a look at that," Mike said as he turned the light onto the path of ruined snow, already covered by a coating of fresh powder. Bobby studied the trail the car had left. "Damn," he muttered softly.

"Good thing we weren't going faster. We'd have landed up in the trees."

"That would have sucked."

Mike looked up from where he'd bent over to slide the key into the trunk lock. "You think?"

Bobby grinned. "Uh, Mike...you might not want to..."

Before Bobby could finish his warning, Mike popped open the trunk and everything came spilling out onto the ground, including the spare tire, which hit Mike across the legs, and the jack, which slammed into Bobby's shin. Mike fell backwards into the snow and Bobby swore. "Oh," Mike moaned with a gasp. His side was on fire. "That wasn't smart."

"Really?"

"This trip was such a great idea," Mike complained.

"I didn't tell you to turn your car into a plane," Bobby countered.

"Did you check the weather at all before we left? Didn't you notice it was snowing?"

"You didn't have to come."

Mike was quiet for a minute, waiting for the pain to subside. "I'm glad I did. I hate the idea of you out here alone in this same situation more than I hate being out here with you." Another pause. "We really should check on those yahoos in the other car."

Neither man realized there was a third car involved, one that was perched precariously on the guard rail several hundred feet beyond and above them.

The first aid box was wedged in the trunk opening, not quite able to fit through it. Mike tugged on it, but it wouldn't come free. He glared at the car. "Son of a bitch."

Bobby watched him struggle with it for a minute or two before he shook his head and wrestled the jack into place, wedging it under the lip of the trunk. Mike rummaged around for the tire iron and they jacked the car up until the tackle box fell to the ground. He also pulled out a couple of blankets, which he laid on the box. "Okay, Einstein, what next?"

"Next we...wait...what's that noise?"

"What noise?"

"Listen."

"I don't hear anything."

"Shhh..."

Several hundred feet away and above them, the third car rested on the guard rail, hooked by its back wheels. The heat from the vehicle had melted the snow beneath it but over the ensuing hours, that melted snow had turned to ice. Now the wheels had begun to slip, and the shifting weight of the car caused the guardrail to creak and moan under the strain.

Bobby took the flashlight from Mike and shined it up toward the road. "Oh, shit...Move it!"

The two men scrambled through more than a foot of snow, away from the car, as the guard rail above gave way, sending the vehicle careening down the embankment into Mike's car.

When everything settled, they looked at the two cars for a moment, assessing and analyzing as they tried not to think about what could have happened. "This night just gets better and better," Mike grumbled as they trudged back to the wreckage. "So much for the first aid supplies. Where the hell did this car come from? I don't remember seeing anyone else on the road."

"Obviously, they were there somewhere."

There were two people in the car, a man and a woman. The back seat was littered with wrapped gifts. Bobby made his way around to the passenger side as Mike checked on the driver. They looked at each other across the car, each one shaking his head. The couple did not survive the accident. They checked the back seat to be sure there was no one else was in the vehicle. Bobby pulled the flashlight from his pocket and shined it around. "There's a creek that runs under the road below that guard rail," he observed.

"You want to go swimming?"

"Let's check it out."

"Listen, nature boy..."

But Bobby was already walking toward the creek bed. "Oh, hell," Mike complained, following after him.

Only a few inches of water trickled along the bed of rounded stones and pulverized rock. Bobby shined the light into the culvert that ran under the road. Five feet in diameter, it was made of corrugated steel. "We can get to the other side through here. Maybe the way to the road is less steep on the other side."

Mike couldn't think of an argument, so he trudged through the snow back to his car. He remembered that his backup piece had fallen from the glove box, and there was no way he was leaving it behind for some kid to find. When he got back, Bobby was leaning against the culvert, eyes closed. "You ready?"

Bobby opened his eyes slowly and looked at Mike for a minute. Mike moved closer to him. "What day is it?"

"What?"

"Tell me what day today is."

"It's Tuesday."

"Where are we?"

"In the middle of nowhere. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm just making sure there's nothing serious wrong with you."

"I'm just tired."

"Well, don't go to sleep because there's a good chance you won't wake up again if you do." He motioned toward the culvert. "Since this was your idea, after you."

Bobby hesitated a moment before bending over and entering the culvert. Mike looked once more toward the two wrecked cars and followed him.

On the other side of the road, they found the wrecked SUV, laying on its side in the creek. Water trickled its way through and around the vehicle. Like the occupants of the other car, the driver had not survived. Neither man needed to get close to smell the alcohol on him. The back seat was littered with beer cans and pizza boxes. Bobby shined the flashlight around the surrounding woods. A splash of red caught his eye and he headed for it. "Where are you going?" Mike asked.

"I see something."

"What kind of something?" Mike asked as he followed Bobby deeper into the winter woods. "Because if we run into a bear, I'm offering you for bait. Just so you know."

"I appreciate that, but unless bears have taken to wearing red clothing, I think we're safe."

A few dozen yards in, where the trees of the forest grew thicker, they found the body of a young man. Bobby knelt beside the battered body, which reeked as strongly of beer as the other one. "Looks like you and I are the only ones to survive this."

"Only to be eaten by wildlife."

Bobby turned away from the body, suddenly doubling over as pain shot through his body. He dropped to his knees, and Mike rushed to his side. "What's wrong?"

Gradually, the pain subsided and Bobby waved him off. "I'm okay now."

"Like hell you are. Where does it hurt?"

"I told you before, it hurts everywhere. Let's see if we can at least make it up to the road."

Mike grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet. He could feel a tremor course through Bobby's muscles. Both of them were feeling the cold. They needed to find shelter and warmth soon. Fortunately, the slope of the embankment to the road was much less steep than it had been on the other side. It was still a slippery struggle to reach the road, but they managed.

Once on the road, they were buffeted by the full force of the wind which sapped what little body warmth had accumulated in their jackets. Aside from the mangled guard rails on either side of the road, there was no sign of the accident. Not one of the vehicles could be seen from the road.

Mike grabbed Bobby's jacket and guided him back down into the relative protection of the creek bed. "The entire time that car was hung up on that guard rail, no one drove by," Bobby commented.

"And you're surprised? This is the backwoods middle of nowhere, New York, in the middle of a goddam blizzard."

With a shiver, Bobby sat down on a large rock in the lee of the embankment. His mind was getting fuzzy. Mike sat beside him. He was also shivering. Once the shivering stopped, he knew they would be in deep trouble, not that they weren't already. Mike pulled out his phone and swore. "No signal."

"We must be...in a dead spot."

"So tell me again why we got off the interstate."

Bobby didn't answer. When Mike looked at him, his eyes were closed. "Hey," Mike called, nudging him.

Bobby's eyes snapped open and he caught his balance before he toppled into the snow. "What?"

Mike got up and grabbed Bobby by the jacket. "Come on," he said, pulling him to his feet and propelling him toward the road.

"What?"

"We're walking. I am not going to die in the wilderness, and neither are you. We're going to find a house or something."

"Mike..."

"I'm not leaving you behind and I'm not carrying you. Now move."

So they began to walk down the county road with the driving wind at their backs, hoping to find shelter before it was too late.

He could easily have missed it, and he would have if Bobby hadn't stumbled. Mike caught him and steadied him, but he knew they wouldn't last much longer. Bobby was becoming increasingly unsteady, and Mike knew that once he went down for good there was no going on. He was beginning to falter as well. He had no idea how long they'd been walking and he had no idea how much longer it was until dawn, not that it mattered much. The storm had not abated at all.

As he turned from his friend to continue walking, he caught sight of a dim yellow glow in the woods on the other side of the road. He could barely make out a path through the trees. A driveway. Maybe there was a God after all. "Come on," he shouted over the wind, grabbing Bobby's jacket and guiding him across the road.

Without questioning, Bobby let Mike guide him. Barely conscious enough to keep walking, he'd lost all sense of his surroundings. He wasn't even cold any more. If it hadn't been for Mike forcing him on, he would have stopped long ago. He was no longer aware of his nausea or his pain. There was only the darkness that chased after them, taunting and calling, inviting them to surrender themselves to the false warmth of its nothingness with the voice of a long-lost lover.

He thought he heard voices, but he couldn't rouse himself to awareness to be sure. Maybe the wood sprites of the forest had found them. Maybe they knew where to take them to get warm. Maybe it was time to let go.

Nothing in the world was more welcome to Mike's eyes than the sight of the little farmhouse in the woods. A light in the front room glowed with an inviting warmth and he tried to hurry. Bobby was not going to make it much further. They reached the bottom of the steps onto the front porch, and Bobby fell over them. "Oh, no, you don't," Mike growled, getting him to his feet and up the steps. He pounded on the front door.

After a minute or two that seemed much longer, the door opened. The woman inside gasped. "Oh, my Lord, what are you boys doing out in this storm? Come right into this house immediately."

Mike was certain she was an angel as the gusting wind propelled them through the door into a cozy living room. "Henry!" she called.

Mike grabbed Bobby as he collapsed and he was pulled down to the floor by the weight of his body. "Come on, man," he whispered. "Don't give up now. We're safe."

Henry came hurrying into the room. "What is it, Martha?"

"Help me with these boys. They were caught in the storm."

The couple were in their sixties, and they did not hesitate to help. Henry stoked the fire in the fireplace while Martha tended to the injured men. She noticed the injuries on Mike's face as he groaned in pain when she helped him off with his coat. She gasped a little when she saw blood on the wooden floor near Bobby's head. "Lord have mercy, what happened to you boys?"

"Car accident," Mike answered, fighting his increasing fatigue to help roll Bobby onto his back. He touched a tear in Bobby's coat and his hand came away bloody. That was when he noticed the blood on the floor. He unzipped the jacket and pushed it open. There was blood everywhere, soaking Bobby's shirt, jacket and jeans. "He's gonna need a doctor."

The couple looked at one another. "The roads aren't passable, according to the radio," Henry said.

Mike already had Bobby's shirt open and Martha had gone to get bandages. "Call 911 and see what they say," Mike ordered.

They'd come this far. He'd be damned if he was going to give up on Bobby now. He found the source of all the blood: a deep gash in Bobby's side. It had been flowing free earlier, but had slowed over time. Much of the blood in his clothes was frozen, and the cold had probably helped to slow the bleeding. Martha brought a large bowl of warm water with the bandages. She helped Mike clean away some of the blood and apply a pressure dressing to the wound. She then cleaned the blood from his face and the wound in his hair.

Mike leaned back and swayed unsteadily as Henry returned from the phone. He and Martha both steadied him. "They can't get anyone out here until the storm stops," Henry said.

Mike tried to answer him, but his body had suddenly decided to stop cooperating with his will and the cozy little living room with the sweet, helpful couple faded away to darkness.

When Mike opened his eyes again, he was in a small, comfortable room, tucked into a twin-sized bed. His wet, bloody clothes were gone and he was dressed in soft flannel pajamas. He didn't remember changing his clothes. His body was bruised and battered, but he was warm and alive. His stomach rumbled. He moved to sit up, but his ribs screamed in protest. He waited for the pain to pass, then moved more carefully.

Outside, he heard the still-blowing wind rattle the shutters of the old farmhouse. He looked through the curtains. It was still snowing heavily, driven by gale-force winds. It was night. Still? he wondered.

Vaguely, he remembered the older couple from the living room, helping him tend to Bobby, who had collapsed as soon as they entered the house. Bobby...

He opened the bedroom door and walked out into a narrow hallway. He heard voices drifting up from downstairs. He took the stairs carefully, aware of new injuries that had been masked by adrenaline and the cold.

Henry and Martha looked up when the stairs creaked. They set down their teacups and hurried over to him. Henry took his arm and helped him to the sofa. Mike sat heavily. "My friend..." he began.

"He's in the back bedroom, off the kitchen. He's still sleeping."

"Is he okay? Did you get a doctor?"

Henry shook his head. "No one can get out here. This is the biggest storm I've seen in many years. Your friend is okay, though. Martha and I dressed his wounds and once we got him warm and comfortable, he seemed to be okay."

"I need to see him."

They led him through a small dining room into a large country kitchen warmed by a large wood stove. Through an open door by the refrigerator was a small bedroom. Mike sat on the edge of the bed and felt Bobby's pulse. It was strong and steady, a good sign. He was breathing easily, another good sign. Mike eased the blanket down over his bare torso, which had been cleaned of blood. The pressure bandage he and Martha had applied before he collapsed was still in place with just a little blood seepage visible on the white gauze. Mike pressed gently on the bruising that surrounded the bandage. Bobby made a soft noise of protest to the pain, and Mike nodded. Response to pain. Bobby was resting, and Mike was relieved.

He pulled the blanket back up to cover him and looked at the older couple. "How long have we been here?"

"You showed up around five this morning," Henry said. "It's nine o'clock, so about sixteen hours."

Martha touched his arm. "Come into the kitchen. I made stew for dinner and I'll warm some for you."

Mike followed them out of the room and sat at a wooden table on the other side of the refrigerator, on the opposite side of the room from the wood stove. It was an old country kitchen, modernized only by the refrigerator and stove that had been added over time.

He watched her heat the stew in a pot on the stove, noting the absence of a microwave or a dishwasher. They didn't even have a coffee machine, he realized, noting the coffee pot on the back burner of the stove. In his world this would be roughing it. He would starve without a microwave, which was how he prepared most of his meals.

He didn't realize how hungry he was until Martha placed a bowl of hot stew in front of him along with a hunk of homemade bread and a cup of fresh coffee. When his bowl was empty, she filled it again, offering him another chunk of bread.

Once he'd had his fill, fatigue again set in and Martha insisted he return to bed. She showed him the location of the bathroom and the linen cupboard in the hall across from it, so he could shower when he was ready.

He returned to the comfort of the small bed and went right back to sleep.

When Mike woke again, he felt well-rested. It was still snowing, but the wind had died down. It was daylight. He went into the bathroom, then went downstairs, seeing the cozy living room for the first time without looking through a mantle of fatigue. A fresh Christmas tree sat in the front corner of the room, beautifully decorated with a few presents tucked under its lowest branches. A wreath of fresh pine hung on the wall above the fireplace, and on the mantle sat two candles, one red and one green, with a garland of evergreen hugging its edges. A fire burned warmly, completing the perfect picture of a country Christmas.

He walked through the dining room into the kitchen and broke into a huge smile, seeing Bobby at the table. He was pale, and the bruising on his side was extensive, but he didn't look too bad, considering what they'd been through. "Look at you," Mike said. "How do you feel?"

"Like I've been hit by a truck. You?"

Mike sat across from him as he greeted Martha, who set a plate of eggs, potatoes and bread in front of him. "Thank you," he said before answering Bobby's question. "I feel pretty good, considering. Sore all over, and my ribs aren't happy at all, but I'm okay."

Bobby had finished his breakfast, but he sat there with his coffee while Mike ate. "I called Eames," he said.

"Oh? Did she notice we were gone?"

"She noticed. She was nearly in a panic because she couldn't get in touch with either of us. The local sheriff is going to come by later today to pick us up, as a professional courtesy, and get us back to the city."

"That's nice of them. How's your head?"

"Still hurts but I'm not sick to my stomach any more."

"We got lucky," Mike said. He smiled at Martha. "We found a pair of guardian angels."

A flush crept into her face. "Nonsense. We only did what any decent folks would do. We helped someone in trouble."

Henry came in from outside with his arms full of firewood. Stomping the snow from his boots, he dropped the wood into a firebox near the door. "Well, it's good to see you boys both up and about."

"Thanks to you and your beautiful wife," Mike answered.

Bobby smiled at the couple's modesty, at the way they insisted they'd done nothing extraordinary. Maybe not to their way of thinking, but to Mike and him, they truly had been guardian angels.