Frankie felt a little relieved when she heard him stir and speak. She sat back and pulled her hand away from his shoulder, wanting to give him room to get up once she realized that he was trying to do so. She smiled back, though she was clearly nervous and concerned, and was about to say something when he collapsed back into the snow. He fell so fast, that she couldn't even attempt to catch him or slow his descend. All traces of relief had vanished, and her heart nearly skipped a beat. She didn't bother to speak, only shaking his shoulder a couple more times before realizing that he was completely unconscious. 

She chewed on her bottom lip and looked around, trying to see if - by some miracle - another person was coming her way. But that just wasn't her night. With a concerned sound, she shrugged off her jacket, despite the storm, and threw it over him. Immediately, the strong flurries of snow hit her exposed arms, but she brushed them away. She was half-way there. Her apartment was almost in sight. He needed the jacket more than her. She'd just have to get them both there before her own body gave out, then the both of them would be screwed. 

Half an hour later, she was setting him down on the couch just as her rush of adrenaline gave out. Frankie took her jacket back and replaced it with an old, thick quilt from the back of the couch. She cranked up the heat for both of their sakes, and disappeared into the only bedroom just long enough to brush the snow from her uniform and change out of it. As soon as she was able, she made her way into the kitchen and put water on the stove to boil. As she was grabbing the box of tea bags, she peeked around the corner at her new guest. There wasn't much she could do for him then; all she really could do was keep an eye on him and hope hat he would wake up soon.