Sebastian Connor was drunk.

He wobbled slightly on his bench. If there had been anybody else in the station, they would have given him a wide berth. They would have stayed well back, pretending not to eye him warily, not to place bets on how soon he would pitch forward in a crash of whiskey-stained glass and rose petals.

Sebastian snorted. People were wolves, always hunched and eager to kill the weakest member of the pack. Or, if not kill, then to at least publicly humiliate them, to raise them up as a spectacle just when they were hurting the most. Like tonight, for instance. Sebastian was weak. He was exposed. He was a target. He was just begging to get mugged, sitting there all crumpled up in his best suit. He knew how he looked. He just didn't care.

Sarah...

He could still hear her voice. He didn't know if that was because of the alcohol or in spite of it, but he could hear her so clearly. It's not you, it's me. We just don't have any chemistry. I can't do this right now. You know I love you. That's why I'm doing this.

It was all bullshit, of course. It was the same bullshit he'd heard from every woman he'd dated since high school. They were always so sorry, so regretful, but it was always the same. There was always someone more handsome, more fun, more in tune with their souls. Whatever. What ever.

No. Sarah, I'm not letting you go that easily. You're the one. I've got to... You're my Sarah. I've got to get you back. I will get you back.

He swayed back and forth a little, and he put a hand down on the bench to steady himself. That's why he was sitting here in the train station with the roses and the alcohol, waiting on a train. He couldn't quite remember now which one he'd bought first, but it didn't matter. He'd bought the roses to win her back, and the whiskey to help him go through with it, to walk up to her door and ring the doorbell and be ready to face Jeremy Clay in Sarah's best bathrobe, the one Sebastian had bought her for Christmas last year, standing there with his broad shoulders and huge biceps and steely romance-novel eyes, calling back over his shoulder, "Go back inside, Sarah, it's just Sebastian. He's drunk again..."

Shit.

He looked around. He had to move his head slowly, because the whole place was swimming in and out of focus. How long had he been sitting here? The last time he'd looked around, there were people. They'd been staying back, right, they'd been doing the whole wolf thing, right, but they'd been there, and then the train had come along, and he couldn't bear the thought of sharing a train car with those wolves, sitting there and riding on to Sarah's stop with them watching him like that, with their yellow wolves' eyes on him the whole way, judging him, laughing at him, sizing him up... So he'd decided to take the next one.

But the next one was sure taking its sweet time coming, wasn't it?

Sebastian sat up with a grunt. For a second the alcohol haze slipped away and he could think clearly. What day was it? Was it the weekend? No. It wasn't a weekend, it was a Tuesday. He was sitting here, drunk on a Tuesday. He was trying to get to his ex-girlfriend's place on the Red line. It was a Tuesday. The trains... The trains... There was something he had to remember about the way trains ran on Tuesdays. Something important.

It was a weekday. Trains didn't run as late on weekdays.

Sebastian shoved back the sleeve of his jacket. He blinked blearily at his watch. 12:15.

Trains on weekdays stopped running at midnight.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

He stumbled to his feet. Home. He'd slept through the last train. Now he had to get back, had to get home. It wasn't the end of the world. He'd just get back up to the street, get out of the station, find a taxi and get them to take him home. Easy. Simple.

Sarah.

Sebastian groaned. He took one step forward, then another. The normally straight lines of the train station's architecture were waving like belly dancers, and the floor was shimmering like a mirage in a desert. There was a crash, and a tinkling sound like windchimes, and then Sebastian realized he wasn't holding the whiskey bottle anymore. He tightened his grip on the roses. He could feel pinpricks in his hands, and some warm wet stuff on his fingers. He didn't really care, but he was determined to keep hold of the roses. They were his last chance to get her back. He needed her back.

He lurched to the end of the platform, where a long flight of stairs would lead back up to the street, back up to the taxis. That was the way home. He would... Would...

Home would be giving up. Home would be letting her go.

Off in the distance, he heard a sound. It sounded like a whistle.

No. Must get home. It's too late, no more trains, no more trains, no more Sarah.

He reached the end of the platform. He turned into the doorway that led to the stairs, and promptly slammed his face into a thick steel gate. Swearing loudly, he blinked away the stars and stared at the doorway. Somebody had shut the security gates. Someone had locked him in.

Shit. Sarah. It's a sign. I'm supposed to go get you back, Sarah. Shit.

Sebastian straightened. His mission was clear. It was a sign. It had to be.

Another sound in the distance. It was a train whistle. And there was a rumbling.

Sebastian took a step back and leaned against the wall. He squinted and peered down the tracks. There was a light coming. There was a train coming.

The rumbling grew louder. It sounded strange, different. A supply train, maybe? Some special government cargo train? The light in the tunnel was drawing closer.

Louder. Closer. Louder still. Still closer.

There was a blinding flash of light and an incredible roar as the train burst out of the tunnel. Sebastian's eyes widened. It wasn't a supply train, it wasn't a government cargo train, and it definitely wasn't a regular passenger train. If anything, it looked like it was headed for a museum. It was long and sleek, a bullet of dark gray steel painted with a black fresco of strange symbols and artwork along the side, just under a long row of charcoal-gray windows. It was beautiful, like something out of an art deco painting. And it was slowing down.

Sebastian stared as it pulled up to the platform, then he staggered backwards when it let out a huge, hissing cloud of steam. It couldn't be real. He was drunk. He was still dreaming. They didn't make trains like this anymore. Hell, they never made trains like this.

The train sat silently at the platform. The doors didn't open. There was no conductor crying out the engine window. It just sat there.

For a long minute, Sebastian stood with his back pressed against the wall. He stared at the train, and fought down the certain feeling that the train was staring back.

Sarah.

The thought came on its own, unbidden. The thought of her just popped into his head, the sound of her voice, the curve of her body, the sweet cinnamon smell of her hair...

Sebastian swallowed.

He took a step forward, then another. He walked slowly up to the train's engine. He reached out and slowly placed a hand on its side. The metal was cold to the touch, and thrummed faintly under his hand. It was even more beautiful up close, polished like stainless steel with streaks of chrome glinting in the faint light of the station. The black fresco, on closer examination, was a mixture of flames and vines, stretching its way back the side of the train as if they were flying back from the speed.

Sebastian walked down the platform towards the passenger cars. He peered up at the engine windows as he passed, but they were all so darkly tinted that he couldn't see in. There were faint lights behind them, and he could see the faint outline of something moving inside, but he couldn't make out any details. He swallowed and moved on.

When he came to the first passenger door, he looked up at it. Painted on the door, in the same shiny black paint that had been used in the fresco, was a single word.

 

 

Sebastian reached out a hand to touch the door. Just as his fingertips brushed it, the door slid open with a faint hiss. Sebastian jerked his hand back as if it had bit him.

You're being ridiculous. Think of Sarah.

He stepped forward and cautiously peered into the car.

The inside of the car was just as beautiful as the outside. The seats and tables looked to be made from hand-carved dark cherry, with plush red velvet cushions piled on every seat. The light inside came from wrought iron lanterns dangling from huge overhead compartments and flickering with what looked like gaslight flames. The car was immense, beautiful, and absolutely empty.

Sebastian hesitated. This is wrong. Who knows where this thing is heading? I mean, yeah, it's just a train, and the line ends at Shady Grove, which is where I'm going anyway, so what's the worst that can happen, but... But...

Suddenly, a loud whistle cut through the station. Sebastian knew that sound.

"Oh, what the hell," Sebastian muttered.

As soon as he stepped into the train, the door slid shut behind him and the train lurched forward, almost knocking him off of his feet. He stumbled to the closest seat, a booth with two cushioned benches flanking an ornately-carved table. He set the roses down and sank into one of the benches. The cushions were even more comfortable than they looked. As soon as he laid his head back against the seat, a great calm washed over him. It's okay. It's okay. It's okay.

He snapped his eyes open. This was a new voice. A strange voice. A... Reassuring voice.

It's okay. It's okay. It's okay.

He relaxed. The voice he was imagining was speaking in time with the wheels on the rails. That was why it sounded so odd, like a woman's voice mixed with some kind of mechanics. It was just the rhythm of the train.

It's okay. It's okay. It's okay.

Sebastian's eyes fluttered. Sarah's stop was the end of the line. He could sleep until they got there. He could sleep off some of the alcohol, and he could make his case to her when he arrived, give her the roses, tell her how much he loved her, and it would be okay. She'd kick out that bastard Jeremy and welcome her Sebastian in, even forgive him for showing up so late on a Tuesday night. It would just prove how much she meant to him, how much he loved her.

It's okay. It's okay. It's okay.

With a smile, Sebastian closed his eyes and let the train carry him away.