James leaned back in his chair, trying to convince himself to put in another hour's work at the office. It wasn't working.
"What the hell,"
he thought,
"everybody else is long gone. It's Friday night and Ashley's been pestering me about working too much overtime, all week."
Noticing what time it was, he realised he had yet again put in much more than a day's work. Feeling entitled to go home, he switched off his computer and headed out.
Leaving the building, he sighed as he entered the heavy snowfall. By the looks of things it had been snowing for quite a while. The daylight was long gone by now and he realised that he hadn't been out in the sunlight at all that day, another sign that he was working too hard.
November was drawing to a close, and when he got to work in the morning it was still pretty dark out. Leaving work more than thirteen hours later invariably meant that it was just as dark outside by then. At first he had figured it was part of the package when it came to being an architect. But while they did have a major project to finish, it didn't seem to keep anyone else from leaving work at a fairly reasonable hour.
Christmas was approaching fast and everybody seemed to look forward to the festivities, everyone but him. James heaved another heavy sigh as he thought about this. Just like his willingness to work non-stop, his reluctance to do Christmas preparations was connected to his lack of close family relations. His mother had died in childbirth and his dad had died just a few months earlier. He'd been an angry, bitter alcoholic, only getting worse with age, much like the cheap wine he'd been so fond of. They hadn't seen each other much toward the end. It had seemed to suit them both just fine.
No, James didn't long for large family reunions, but he did miss Ellie. His stepsister Elizabeth from his father's second marriage had gone missing five years earlier and James had been looking for her ever since. Well, not anymore that is. After she heard he was looking for her, she sent him a postcard telling him to please stop. Apparently she wanted nothing more to do with any of them. It had stung badly considering she was the only person James had ever felt a lasting connection to. He felt his heart give a squeeze as he considered the very real chance that she hadn't felt the same way.
He hurried through the snow, hoping to get to the tube station before it could leak into his shoes and start nipping at his toes. As he reached the brightly lit, surprisingly welcoming hole in the ground that was the entrance to the tube station, he abruptly stopped in his tracks and forgot all about how tired, cold, and absolutely starving he was. He couldn't help but stare at the tiny angel that sat shivering on the steps of the Starbucks on the corner, holding a steaming cup of hot chocolate, while she looked up and down the street seemingly trying to decide which way to go next.
To James she looked achingly familiar and he sent a silent prayer to the stars, hidden by the city lights and heavy clouds, that it would really be her this time. He'd been wrong so many times before, but then he had never felt this certain before either. He walked up to her slowly, as if he was approaching an unfamiliar cat, trying not to spook it, and whispered, "Ellie? Is that you?"
Elizabeth whipped her head around and looked at the familiar looking stranger, and promptly dropped her precious cup of hot chocolate. She regretted it to the very core of her soul for a whole second. She'd really gone all out treating herself to it, and then it didn't matter anymore, she knew she was safe.
Before she had time to even consider his reaction, she jumped up and flung her arms around him. As she relaxed into his safe warmth and familiar smell, she couldn't help but sigh, "Jamie." James chuckled at that; it was such a relief to be called by that name again. They stood there clinging to each other for quite a while, making up for five years worth of hugs, until he let her go and held her at arms length.
"Where the hell have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you! I was worried sick!" He gave her a quick once over, then another, and another, taking in her much too thin jacket, worn shoes, and holey gloves. And he could see plainly that all his concern had been justified. She looked so thin, not to mention freezing, her lips were turning an unflattering shade of blue and she was shivering rather violently now that he wasn't keeping her warm anymore. A feeling not unlike a punch in the gut swept over him and he figured it was about bloody time she came home.
"Come on, you're coming home with me. We can talk about all this later, I suppose."
Somehow the profound look of relief that swept her face worried him even more. What kind of trouble was she in? Did she even have a place to live? Something about her made him doubt that, though she didn't have any luggage. Though she had never been one to conform to stereotypes, and he couldn't picture her lugging around a shopping cart, there was a reason homeless people were usually lugging around a heap of stuff; it was necessary for survival. What would have happened if he had stayed in the office for that extra hour?
He cringed at the thought, put his arm protectively around her and led her down the stairs to the tube station. He was dying to know what she had been up to since she ran away three days before the funeral, but she didn't seem to want to talk to him just yet. She looked even more exhausted than he felt, so he left her, for the most part, alone. He couldn't stop himself from touching her though; he had to prove to himself that she was really there, that he wasn't just dreaming again.
When they got home to his apartment he had to help her get her coat off. She was stiff from the cold and couldn't quite manage on her own. Usually she would have hated to accept help from anyone, it didn't seem like she could afford that luxury anymore.
"Why don't I get the fire started, and you can sit there and thaw out while I run you a bath? Sound good?" She managed a shaky nod. He got the flames going and she sat down on the floor in front of it, the thought of a cushion to sit on didn't even occur to her. To James she looked far too used to sitting on hard surfaces.
He was becoming more and more concerned by the minute. He realised it was a good thing she'd need some time in front of the fire before she could get into the bath without feeling scalded by the water. The bathroom looked exactly like it belonged to a bachelor who was working so hard he barely had time to eat. He welcomed the opportunity to scrub the bathtub and tidy up a bit. Changing the sheets also seemed like a good idea.
Fifteen minutes later, James approached her with caution; she seemed so different from the girl he used to know. He helped her up, showed her where the towels were, and promised her fried eggs and toast when she was finished in the tub.
"I'll see what I can do about some clean clothes." Another silent nod from the girl who had once been the most vivacious person James had ever known. He felt like crying. They used to be so close, with no one but each other in the whole wide world to confide in. He remembered how she used to crawl into bed with him when their parents were fighting, and he'd put on music to drown out the harsh words from the master bedroom down the hall.
He sighed for the umpteenth time that night and set about digging in his closet for something for her to wear. Eventually he found a tank-top of unknown origin in her size and some comfy boxer shorts. He'd just finished preparing the food when she came into the living room, wearing the improvised pyjamas he'd put out for her.
"Thanks. Food smells good." Her smile was a little weak, but nevertheless it was a big improvement on the silent, freezing girl he'd found on the street a short hour ago.
"Come sit down. Your timing is perfect. I found some milk in the fridge, but I don't think we should take our chances with it. I can make you some tea if you like. You still take your tea without milk, right?"
"Yeah, tea sounds lovely," she said as she curled up on the kitchen chair, just like she used to.
"Still haven't gotten the hang of sitting properly on a chair I see," Jamie grinned, feeling some of the tension leave his body. She was going to be okay; he was going to make damn sure of it. "So, are you going to tell me where you've been?" Being stern with her seemed to go against his nature, it felt all wrong, and he struggled to keep a straight face.
It would seem that he didn't succeed, she only smiled pleasantly and replied; "I promise to tell you all about it, but please not tonight... I'm exhausted and starving. I just want to inhale my food and collapse on your lovely sofa. Do you have work in the morning? A girlfriend who'll be pissed to find a girl in your flat?"
For the first time in longer than he liked to admit, going to work on a Saturday was out of the question. "No and no. You can tell me all about it in the morning. But you're delusional if you think I'm letting you sleep on the sofa. You know me better than that. In fact, I think I might be insulted." Again he failed to keep a straight face. Well, he'd always known he was a big softy when it came to her.
She seemed to take him seriously enough not to argue with him on this though. Either that or she had been longing for the bed more than she wanted to admit. In no time at all, she had finished her food. She tried to suppress a yawn and failed spectacularly.
Jamie chuckled. "Off to bed with you. Go on. I'll tidy up here and crash on the sofa."
Ellie hesitated for a moment. "You don't have to do that. I mean, we've slept together plenty of times before. It's no big deal, and I'd hate to kick you out of your own bed. Besides, you look like hell. Have you slept at all since the last time I saw you?"
