A PERFECT RENDEZVOUS

Shivering is good

"Tell me you believe I'm innocent," he'd ordered Harry last night, and at that moment, Harry knew beyond all doubt that the man who wanted to die because he'd caused his own "death" had to be exactly that—innocent.

Unaware that he was crying or that he'd started running, Harry plunged silently down the slope to where Zayn sat. When Harry was close enough to see his face, remorse and tenderness almost sent him to his knees. With his head thrown back and his eyes shut, his handsome face was a mask of ravaged regret.

The cold forgotten, he scooped up his jacket and held it out to Zayn. Swallowing past the awful lump of contrition in his throat, he said in an aching whisper, "You win. Let's go home now."

When he didn't respond, Harry dropped to his knees and started trying to force his limp arm into the jacket.

"Zayn, wake up!" he cried. His shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs, he pulled Zayn into his arms, cradling his head against his chest, trying to infuse some of his warmth into him, rocking him back and forth. "Please!" he babbled, on the edge of hysteria. "Please get up. I can't lift you. You have to help me. Zayn, please. Remember when you said you wanted someone to believe you're innocent? I didn't completely believe you then, but I do now. I swear it. I know you didn't kill anyone. I believe everything you've said. Get up! Please, please get up!"

His weight seemed to be getting heavier, as if he was completely losing consciousness, and Harry panicked. "Zayn, don't go to sleep," he said in a near scream. Grabbing his wrist, he began shoving his limp arm into his jacket while resorting to mindless bribery in an effort to jar him into alertness. "Well go home. We'll go to bed together. I wanted to last night, but I was afraid. Help me get you home, Zayn," he pleaded as he forced his other arm into the jacket and struggled with the zipper. "We'll make love in front of the fire. You'd like that wouldn't you!"

When he'd gotten his jacket on, he stood up, grabbed Zayn's wrists, and pulled with all his might, but instead of moving him, his feet lost traction and he slid down beside him. Scrambling to his feet again, Harry raced to his snowmobile and brought it over to where Zayn was lying. Bending over him, he shook him and when he couldn't wake him, Harry closed his eyes for courage, then he swung his arm in a wide arc and slapped Zayn hard across the face. His eyes opened, then closed. Ignoring the scream of pain that shot up Harry's arm from his frozen fingers, he grabbed Zayn's wrists and tugged, trying to tell him something different that might make him try to get up. "I can't find the way home without you," he lied, yanking on his wrists. "If you won't help me get home, I'll die out here with you. Is that what you want? Zayn, please help me," he cried. "Don't let me die!"

It was a second before Harry realized that he wasn't completely the dead weight he'd been and that he was reacting to something Harry said and using what feeble strength he had left to try to stand. "That's right!" Harry panted, "Stand up. Help me get home so I'll be warm."

Zayn's movements were terrifyingly sluggish and when his eyes opened, his gaze was unfocused, but he was instinctively trying to help Harry now. It took several attempts, but Harry managed to get him to his feet, loop his arm over his shoulders, and get him onto the snowmobile, where he slumped over the handle bars.

"Try to help me balance," he said, steadying Zayn with his arms and quickly getting on behind him. He glanced up at the path he'd taken down here, realized it would be impossible to make the steep climb back there now, and decided to follow the creek around the bend in hopes there would be a way to get up to the bridge and onto the road from there. His former fear of the unfamiliar machine's power forgotten, Harry crouched low over Zayn to shield him from the wind with his body and sent the machine flying over the snow. "Zayn" he said near his ear, scanning the path and talking to him in a desperate effort to keep him conscious and hold his own terror at bay, "you're still shivering a little. Shivering is good. It means your body temperature hasn't dropped to the bottom danger point. I read that somewhere." They rounded the bend, and Harry aimed the snowmobile at the only path he thought they might be able to climb.