“Ellette!”

That voice. She knew that voice. It was the voice of comfort, of home.

“Oh my god, your lips are blue,” he was muttering more to himself than to her. “Ellette!”

She wanted to smile as she imagined his expression. He sounded — wait. Rand. She was with Rand. She gasped, or tried to. Instead, she choked. Her lungs were still full of water. She sat up, her eyes flying open. The next instant, she was coughing up water, torrents of water, onto the floor.

“What the hell?” She heard him exclaim as he held her upright, patting her back as she vomited up the icy liquid from her aching lungs. Once she’d emptied her lungs and sat gasping for air, he held her, stroked her back, murmuring. The words didn’t matter. Only the warmth, the gesture.

Tears welled in her eyes. “I lost him,” she gasped into his shoulder.

His hands stilled on her back. “What?”

“I lost him,” she repeated.

“Who?”

“Him,” she choked. Tears were flowing unbidden now, down her cheeks. “The boy, in the water.” She coughed.

Rand patted her back, holding her trembling body. She clung to that warmth, shuddering violently. She’d been there, just seconds ago. Drown, frozen. Dead.

Now, clinging to Rand, his arms, his warmth cradled her. She was alive. It had been a dream. That was all she needed to bring her into the moment, to leave the horror behind. “You’re okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay now.”

She nodded, tears sill flowing down her cheeks. She inhaled, realizing it no longer burned to breathe. He stroked her back, the warmth of his hand burning down her icy flesh. She brought her arms up, trembling, to embrace him.

“Rand,” she whispered, her eyes clenched shut, still weak. “Thank you,” the words were ragged, faint even to her own ears. He held her even tighter.

“You’re okay.” There was a hint of question in that last utterance.

She nodded weakly against his shoulder. “I’m okay,” she whispered, relishing his warmth. “It was a dream.” Though, despite her sluggish thoughts, her fatigue, she knew it was a lie. Dreams were never just dreams. Not for her.

***

Ellette sat shivering on the couch. It was all she'd done for the last few hours. She stared, almost in a trance, at the TV, flipping from newscast to newscast with stiff, still chilled fingers. Rand was pacing in the kitchen on the phone, talking his way out of work. He'd never left her side through the night.

Their tiny apartment was cold even during the day. He'd worried over her blue lipped, shivering state until she'd given in. Under any normal circumstances she would have resisted. The concern, the strain in his voice, coaxed her more than the words themselves.

At his insistence, she finally slipped into his bed, underneath the electric blanket. There, in that warm cocoon, he rubbed warmth into her fingers and forearms. He stopped, though, hands stilled on her upper arms. There was a pause, a hesitation, and he pulled away, and settled back down on his back. She curled against him, resting her forehead, and a now warmed hand on his arm. Her fingers traced a scar before she caught herself, and let out a long sigh. Her thoughts were sluggish, the warmth making her groggy after the intensity of the chill. Beyond exhaustion, she’d fallen asleep in moments.

She adored Rand. He'd been a godsend, and a best friend when she’d been in dire need. The thought of being so close to him, though... She stopped the train of thought, refusing to let herself entertain the notion. He was simply being a friend, a concerned friend, and they would leave it at that.

Now, warmed enough to keep him from hovering, she wiped absently at her running nose and flipped channels again.

There it was. She’d half expected it, but it still made her heart clench to actually see it, hear it — the confirmation.