Spark - 1. Chapter 1

Then screaming.

Derrick bolted upright. He drew a shaky hand across his face, grimacing when it came away damp with sweat. Still disoriented, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. A surreptitious glance at the few other passengers in his car eased his embarrassment. None paid him any mind, so he mustn't have cried out.

With a deep sigh, he sank back into his seat and turned his attention to the passing scenery. The train had begun its climb into the mountains. Its speed would soon slow as it navigated its way through winding valleys and tunnels. By then the shadow of night would obscure the details. How, for instance, the mountain rose on one side of the tracks, bulging in places, as if trying to push the train down the sickening slope on the other side.

He shivered again. Not the best imagery to be dwelling on at the moment.

When he'd composed himself to his satisfaction, he turned to the gentleman behind him. "Pardon me, would you have the time?" he asked over his shoulder.

The man rattled his newspaper but didn't answer. Derrick cleared his throat and tried again. "Pardon me, sir," he enquired, a bit louder this time. Still, the man didn't acknowledge him.

Disgruntled, Derrick sat back. "How rude," he muttered. The Crash was still big news, and the state of the market was worrisome, but since when had the daily financials page trumped common courtesy?

He considered asking one of the other passengers, but the lot of them looked just as uncommunicative. Instead, he wrestled his pocket watch from inside his vest and squinted at the time. Still several hours to go. He relaxed back into his seat and prepared to let the gentle gliding movement of the train lull him into a doze.

Not sleep. He wasn't about to risk that again so soon.

As he was shifting back and forth, searching for the most comfortable position, a shadow fell over him, and Derrick made a small sound of disgust. "If you're wondering after the whereabouts of my ticket, it's here in my pocket," he said, eyes closed. "I did my best to give it to you earlier, but you were intent on gracing the young lady in the back of the car with the lion's share of your attention." Silence echoed back to him. Curious, he opened his eyes.

A tall man loomed over him, staring intently. "You're not the conductor," Derrick said.

The stranger scratched at his chin. "No. I believe he's a few cars back, dealing with a sick passenger."

"Serves him right," Derrick mumbled under his breath. When the man didn't answer, Derrick realized the depth of his rudeness. "My apologies." He sat up and gestured to the bench facing him. "Please join me."

The stranger grinned. A slow, lazy grin, all sparkling white teeth against tanned skin. Derrick found himself quite dazzled.

"I appreciate that. Thank you."

Derrick crossed his legs as the stranger took his seat. "You have a slight, but distinctive accent," he said. "Texas?"

The stranger graced him with another lopsided smile. "That's right. But it's my attire that usually tips people off. Not the accent." He gestured at his feet.

"Yes," Derrick murmured, taking in the western boots, "your choice of footwear does give it away somewhat."

"Nix Kaplan," the stranger said. He extended his hand, which Derrick took. "Born in Texas, but educated in the east. Harvard."

"Ah," Derrick said. "That explains it." He returned the firm shake, then sat back, strangely pleased by Nix's easy-going, confident manner. "My name is Derrick Sommer. Is your family in oil, Mr. Kaplan?"

Nix's lips quirked. "No. Ah, textiles, actually."

Derrick inclined his head. "My apologies. It seemed a natural assumption. It’s not every family that can afford to send their son to be educated in the Ivy League, especially these days. I meant no offense."

"None taken." Nix crossed his legs to mimic Derrick. "I never said they were in the poor house."

"No, you didn't."

Derrick let the conversation lag. The train was at half capacity and this particular car only a third full. So why the friendly Texan had chosen to sit with him instead of by himself was a mystery. The one possibility – the one that he hoped for – was, unfortunately, unlikely. The lad most probably desired a spot of conversation. Though….

Derrick dared another look at Nix, who was busy flipping through a tattered leather journal. The man was fit. Handsome in a rugged way. Dark stubble dotted his chin and matched his scruffy black hair. His clothing could only be called odd. Eccentric, if he were to be kind. Still, it fit the man – Nix – in every way imaginable.

Derrick took a deep breath, berating himself for his sudden mad fancy. He was almost salivating, for God's sake. Suddenly, the prospect of making polite conversation for the next several hours made him cringe.

He watched from the corner of his eye while Nix's finger slid down one page, then the next. On the third, it stopped halfway down, and Nix made a low sound in his throat. After a moment, he darted a glance at Derrick.

Derrick arched a brow. "Something interesting?"

"I think so." Nix marked the page and laid the journal over the armrest next to him. His hand lingered on the polished wood.

Derrick fingered his short mustache and nodded. "The seats could do with a few cushions, couldn't they? For the price we paid for the ticket? Our dollars should go farther, especially in this day and age."

Nix fingered a carving in the armrest. "I don't mind," he said, voice wistful.

"You will," Derrick said. "After another eight hours."

Nix gave an absent nod. "I suppose. It's just…it's lovely workmanship."

Derrick hesitated before responding with a noncommittal nod. Uncertain how to handle the silence, he cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. To his dismay, several light brown strands came loose on his fingers, and he sighed. He wasn't getting any younger.

"Are you all right?" Nix asked. He was back to reclining on the bench, one leg crossed casually over the other knee, but his gaze was intent. Concerned.

"Fine."

Nix nodded. He scratched at his chin, and Derrick realized this was the lad's nervous habit. Nix was uneasy. How interesting. And quite possibly very promising.

"So why are you on the train tonight, Mr. Sommer?"

"Please call me Derrick."

Nix's lazy, lopsided smile returned. "All right. I will. And you call me Nix."

"Perfect." Derrick shifted on the bench and tried to ignore how Nix's smile made his skin tingle. "I'm a lawyer. I travel back and forth between Denver and Santa Fe, mostly, negotiating lumbering contracts."

"I see. Nice work if you can get it."

"These days, yes. It's a blessing. I don't complain about the frequent travel for that reason alone. There are many who are suffering through more than a hard wooden seat once a week. Many."

"So true," Nix agreed.

The train lurched. Derrick barely held back a gasp as he grabbed for the brass rail under the window. He peered out the thick glass, squinting, but night had fallen as he'd chatted with Nix, and now the only thing to see was his reflection. A narrow, pale face, surrounded by straight brown hair. Average on a good day. Derrick looked away with a grimace only to find Nix staring again, expression speculative. "Not a fan of train travel?"

Derrick stroked his mustache. His nervous habit. "I can't say this route is my favorite. The way it runs through the mountains." His heart began to pound. "The way the track clings to the side of the cliff…." His voice trailed off despite his efforts to keep it even.

"Easy." Nix's hand settled on his knee – a warm, comfortable weight.

Derrick grunted an acknowledgment. He leaned his head back and tried to draw air through his lungs. The world distorted and stretched, then rippled like a funhouse mirror.

"Derrick? Derrick."

Nix's voice soothed him, his hand an anchor to reality. Derrick clung to it until the world righted itself.

"Easy now."

The softly spoken words, lilting with a trace of Southern drawl, helped push the panic away. Derrick fumbled for his handkerchief, only to find it pressed into his hand by Nix's warm, blunt fingers. "That what you're looking for?"

"Yes. Thank you," he managed to rasp. He dabbed at his forehead and neck where fresh perspiration had broken out. "Thank you."

Nix nodded, but didn't lean back. He kept his hand on Derrick's knee, and though Derrick suspected they were approaching the limits of propriety, he didn't pull away.

An elderly lady shuffled by. Derrick watched, mortified, as she threw Nix an angry look.

"I apologize for the disturbance," Derrick said to her, desperate to exonerate his new friend. "The fault is solely mine."

But the old lady paid him no mind. She ambled away, muttering under her breath. The word "crazy" reached Derrick's ears clearly. He bristled and replied in a loud voice, "I am not."

"No, you aren't," Nix said.

Derrick gave an embarrassed laugh, the old lady forgotten. "I…thank you. I don't know what came over me," he lied.

Nix's fingers tightened over his kneecap. His eyes, a piercing blue, Derrick noticed, projected both kindness and empathy. Extraordinary – that he would take such care with a virtual stranger.

"Any time," Nix said. He waved off Derrick's stuttered apology. "Feeling better?"

"Yes, yes. What were we discussing?"

Nix studied him, eyes flickering over Derrick's face. "Dinner," he finally said, and after one last squeeze, lifted his hand from Derrick's leg. "Feel up to a stroll over to the dining car?" He winked. "I can talk up a storm, if given the chance."

"And I can be an excellent listener. But I'm afraid I'm not very hungry." He felt a pang as he said it. A loss. As if Nix would leave and never return – quite impossible on a moving train.

Nix scooped up his journal and tucked it into his jacket pocket. "Join me anyway. You don't have to eat." He stood, then hovered awkwardly. "I feel uncomfortable leaving you alone."

Derrick bristled. "I'm quite capable of caring for myself."

Nix flashed another disarming smile. "I'm sure that's true. I simply—" He cut off and looked away with a sigh. "If you'll excuse me, then."

It was as Nix turned to retreat that understanding hit Derrick. Hope swelled again. Could the invitation mean what he thought? Was it possible, even after his behavior just now, that Nix still desired his company? "Wait! Nix." When Nix turned, Derrick stood, ignoring his shaky legs. "I do believe I've changed my mind."

Nix grinned and beckoned him forward. "I was hoping you would."

They made their way down the aisle at a snail's pace. Nix led the way, rambling the whole time. Nonsensical, most of it, but Derrick was thankful for the distraction – especially as they moved out into the open.

The wind buffeted them, flapping Derrick's clothing wildly, and though the passage between cars was safely closed in, his steps faltered. Without missing a beat, Nix reached back and took his arm. "I swear it's hard to believe we left ninety degree weather just two hours ago. It's freezing out here."

Derrick nodded. "We've reached the higher elevations." He shivered, but not from the cold, and welcomed Nix's guidance over the short platform.

"Here we are," Nix said as he opened the door to the next compartment. "Ah, much better."

Derrick couldn't have agreed more. "Yes. Much."

They repeated the routine twice, Nix taking his arm without question each time, until they reached the dining car. Delicious smells wafted out onto the wind when Nix slid the door open. Yet Derrick's appetite didn't stir.

"Still not hungry?" Nix asked as they chose a small table.

"I'm afraid not."

"It's not a problem." Nix signaled for the steward. "I'll have the beef," he said when the man stepped up to their table. The steward, decked out in a crisp black uniform complete with gold buttons, nodded and made a note on his pad.

Derrick grinned. "A Texan ordering beef. How shall I ever recover from the shock?" He glanced around, surprised to see how empty the car was. A quick check of his pocket watch indicated it was the middle of the dinner hour. He'd thought they might have to wait for a seat, but apparently not. "I wonder where everyone is."

Nix shrugged. "Perhaps they ate earlier."

"Sir?" The steward raised a brow.

Derrick stroked his chin and shrugged. "Perhaps."

"That's fine by me. I didn't relish waiting for a seat. I'm starving." Nix patted his stomach, and Derrick laughed.

"Then by all means, eat. I shall endeavor to keep you entertained while you do."

"Are you sure you don't want anything? A drink?"

Derrick shook his head. "No. Thank you."

Nix turned his charming smile on the steward. "A glass of water for me." Derrick wasn't surprised when the taciturn waiter frowned. He'd found the whole crew rather standoffish, actually. He said so, when – after filling Nix's water goblet and shooting him an unreadable glance – the steward left.

"They do seem a bit tense," Nix agreed. He sipped at the water. "Tell me about yourself. Do you make this trip often?"

"Yes. Though this is only my third time on this particular train. It's brand new, you know. This track has only just been completed. It took nearly five years."

"Because of the terrain?"

"Yes. Treacherous."

Nix's gaze bore into him. "That it is," he replied in a quite voice.

Derrick indulged in his own perusal. His, though, didn't stop at Nix's face. When his gaze crept back upwards, he saw the other man was blushing. "Have I embarrassed you?" Derrick asked. He held his breath for the answer. Not one for bold moves, he prayed he'd read the situation correctly.

Nix's mouth opened and closed as he floundered. "No," he said eventually. "No."

Tension he hadn't been aware of left Derrick in a rush. "Very good."

He left things at that, and eventually the easiness returned. Nix recounted several stories from his college days, and Derrick contributed his fair share, though his adventures paled in comparison. He couldn't recall when he'd last engaged in such good conversation. Every once in a while, a hint of Nix's twang would come through, and each time it did, Derrick would catch his breath with pleasure.

Eventually, Nix's meal arrived. In a move that stopped their conversation short, the dining steward dropped the plate in front of Nix, then jumped backward, as if the china had suddenly grown fangs. Derrick drew himself up. "Now see here, sir—"

"It's all right," Nix interrupted. He nodded at the steward, who disappeared as quickly as he'd come. "No harm done. I have a tendency to make some people nervous. Not everybody cares for my company."

"Those who do not are utter fools." Derrick leaned forward. "I'm quite serious. And I'd be happy to speak to the conductor on your behalf concerning that man's behavior."

Nix shot him a puzzled smile. "You hardly know me."

Derrick shrugged.

"He's bound to think we're being difficult," Nix pressed.

"I don't much care."

Amusement flared in Nix's eyes. "Me either." He dug into his meal.

For several minutes, Derrick let a comfortable silence develop between them. He watched Nix – a pastime he discovered he enjoyed quite a lot – and occasionally glanced around the deserted car.

He frowned. The strangeness of the empty car nagged him. Even with the economy in dire straits and Hoover in the White House, even with unemployment at staggering levels, there were people who traveled. He'd rarely seen such an empty train, and the few times he'd traveled this newer route, it'd been almost full.

The run had opened three months ago and gained overnight popularity. Everyone wanted a look at the stunning views. Everyone wanted to cut their travel time in half – and this pass through the mountains did just that. After the first harrowing trip, Derrick swore he'd never do it again. His clients, however, hadn't been so accommodating. Time was money, which was in short supply.

Of course they'd never seen how steeply the mountain fell away from the track in places. Or how close the knife-like rocks came to brushing the side of the train as it raced around the side of the cliff.

Unnerved, Derrick turned away from the dark window – from what he knew lay on the other side of the glass.

Nix sat back with a sigh and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. "Much better. Working always gives me an appetite."

Derrick grabbed at the distraction. "You're traveling on business, then? What sort, if I may ask?" When Nix hesitated, Derrick waved him off. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to be so forward."

Nix pushed his plate away. "Why stop now?"

His teasing tone helped alleviate some of Derrick's mortification. But not all. "I—"

Nix sat quietly, face neutral, waiting.

In the end, it was the complete lack of censure in the question that prompted Derrick to speak the truth. He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Damn it all. I have been, haven't I?" When Nix answered with a smile, Derrick groaned. "I promise, I'm not usually so bold. It seems you bring out the worst in me, Mr. Kaplan."

"Or the best."

Derrick snorted. "Yes, quite." Prompted by some devilish impulse he couldn't control, he shifted his leg under the table until his knee bumped Nix's thigh. He laughed under his breath as Nix's eyes widened. He knew that his shameless behavior bordered on harassment, but that would be the least of his worries if he'd somehow misread the other man's interest. One unsubstantiated rumor would ruin him.

His reputation was his livelihood, and he'd lived his life accordingly. Which is to say, he'd hardly lived it at all. But now – sitting across from Nix, legs touching under the table in a most unmistakable way – he couldn't quite work up a good bout of apprehension.

He wasn't afraid. Quite the opposite, in fact.

The steward returned, breaking the spell, and Derrick suppressed an urge to snarl at the man. With great reluctance and as much subtlety as he could muster, he moved his leg away.

Nix shifted self-consciously. "Coffee?" he suggested.

Derrick couldn't hold back a smile at his husky tone. The steward bowed, answered, "Certainly, sir," and left.

Derrick's eyes narrowed. He hadn't wanted coffee, but he was getting damn sick of being ignored.

"Do you have anyone special?" Nix asked. "A…wife? Children?"

Before Derrick could question the more serious turn of conversation, the train lurched, tossing him to the side. He bumped his shoulder on the window, and for a moment, couldn't draw a breath.

"Derrick?"

"I'm fine," he rasped. He beat the panic down. "No, there's no one. No wife." He threw a glance at Nix. "No children."

Nix looked surprised. "Really?"

"No."

"Then…" he paused as the steward returned with the coffee, placing it on the table with slightly more grace than he'd used to deliver the food. Not much, though. Derrick vowed to take the man's name and forward it to the president of the rail line. "Then," Nix continued, "Tell me, what makes you…tick?"

"What makes me tick?"

"Yeah." Nix pulled one leg up onto the seat beside him and balanced the coffee cup on his knee. "What inspires you to get out of bed every morning? Your job? You enjoy it?"

The idea made Derrick laugh. "Hardly," he said though his chuckles. "I despise it, truth be told. But, as I've said, times are difficult. We can't be picky about where our paycheck comes from. That it comes at all is a blessing."

Nix mulled this over. Lips pursed, he idly spun the cup on his kneecap. "No special person. No children. Not particularly attached to your job. Hmmm. So what keeps you going?"

"Going?" He hated sounding like a parrot.

Nix sipped his coffee. "What sparks you?"

"Well…" Derrick sat back. Pensive, he stroked his mustache. "I suppose the idea that… someday… I might find someone who understands me." The more he spoke, the more details sprang to his lips. "Who isn't afraid. Who could help me with my own fears. Who understands my needs." He blushed at the admission, but forged ahead. "I'm sure you know of what I speak. Someone, I suppose, who completes me." He paused for a deep breath. "And that's enough, don't you think? Enough of a reason to keep going?"

His gaze had drifted while he spoke, but now he refocused on Nix. The easy conversation of the past few minutes left him unprepared for the intense sadness he found reflected in his companion's eyes. Desperate to alleviate it, he fell back on humor. "Not that such a thing will occur any time soon, of course. My job is the epitome of boring, my life a close second, and I'm not very pretty to look at."

Some of the sorrow in Nix's eyes lifted, but his half-smile carried more melancholy than amusement. "I disagree."

"You'd be in the minority."

"I'm not complaining. Less competition that way."

Derrick surprised himself by laughing. "And you call me brazen."

They smiled at each other for another minute before Derrick spoke. "Are you quite finished?"

"With dinner?"

"Yes."

Nix nodded. They rose together, but this time Derrick led the way. The train swayed violently as he reached the door. Unable to hold back a gasp, he snatched his hand back from the handle.

"Let me," Nix said, and reached past him.

"Excuse me, sir. A word, please."

Derrick turned to see the train conductor and the dinner steward behind them. "About?" he asked, not bothering to temper his irritation.

"Yes, certainly." Nix gave Derrick's arm a squeeze. "I'll be right back."

Derrick nodded, smiling politely. It wouldn't do to have Nix sense his annoyance. He seemed determined to give this poorly trained crew the benefit of the doubt, and Derrick wouldn't fault him for it. On the contrary, he admired Nix for handling the situation with nobility and grace. "Of course. I'll wait here."

Nix moved off, and Derrick turned his attention back to the exit. Before he could analyze his motivations, he'd pulled the handle back and slid the door open. He stepped out onto the platform.

Outside, a full moon reflected off distant snow-capped peaks. A bitter wind swirled through the space between the cars, which – though surrounded by thick metal grating – felt open and exposed. Dark spikes, the shadows of evergreens, flashed by on one side.

On the other, nothing.

Derrick bit back a moan as the fear, primeval in its strength, clawed its way up from his chest. Determined, he forced it back. Two short steps took him to the edge of the abyss. He leant forward and squinted into the foggy, swirling dark.

"Derrick?"

Derrick shot a look over his shoulder to find Nix stepping out of the dining car. "What are you doing?" Nix asked, voice radiating apprehension.

"Facing my fear."

Nix gaped, speechless.

Derrick turned back to the emptiness. "I have nightmares." He fitted his fingers through the grate, discomfited when the air that rushed over them felt so cold. "About the train. Falling. I have for a long time."

Nix stepped up behind him. He, too, curled his fingers through the metal while his other hand settled on the small of Derrick's back. The train jerked, throwing itself to and fro with no discernible rhythm. Nix squared his feet and steadied them both. He didn't speak.

"They make me angry," Derrick said.

"Angry?"

"The nightmares. It's foolish to fear what you can't control."

Nix's hand pressed against his back. "I agree."

Derrick leant his forehead against the grate. Icy air bit into his face, but he welcomed it. "I won't be afraid."

"There's nothing to be afraid of." Nix's low-spoken words blew away on the wind. But Derrick heard them before they did. He twisted around and pressed their lips together.

The fist taste sent fire rushing through him. It flared and spread, curling his fingers and toes with its intensity. He grabbed at Nix's shirt with his free hand, twisted the material in his fist, and yanked him closer.

Nix gasped something, maybe a word, but Derrick ignored it, lost in a rush of lust.

"Wait!" Nix shoved him away, and Derrick fell back against the grate, panting.

"No," Nix said. "Derrick, no."

Derrick blinked at the word, so at odds with the quaver in Nix's voice. "No?"

"No."

Derrick pressed a fist over his pounding heart. Nausea welled up when the depth of his misstep dawned. "I'm sorry. I thought…I sensed—" Disappointment washed over him and shame followed, churning his stomach even more. "Please forgive me. I made a…horrible mistake. You're not…."

"Yes, I am," Nix cut him off. "You weren't mistaken. But…." His voice faltered and fell away.

Not unlike the cliff at Derrick's back.

"I see." The embarrassment threatened to buckle his knees. "It's me, then." So obvious, when he gave it even a second of rational thought. Why would any man like Nix Kaplan waste his interest on Derrick? He stumbled away, reaching for the door to the next compartment.

"Wait." Nix caught his arm.

"Please do not make this any worse than it is," Derrick pleaded.

Nix pulled him back, expression tortured. "You don't understand."

"I'm afraid I do."

"You don't. Damn it!" Nix slammed his palm against the metal grate. The train accelerated into a turn, bouncing them both back and forth while the cars struggled to align themselves on the track.

Derrick barely noticed. "Nix," he said, almost yelling over the screeching of the cars, "let me go."

Nix stared at him, eyes steady, even as the rest of the world seemed to shake apart around them. "I can't," was his answer. And he pulled Derrick against him.

The second kiss was as unexpected as the first, but for the fact that it was Derrick who was caught off-guard. He stumbled, fumbling to return it with equal intensity, and when Nix propelled him backward and shoved him against the grate, he groaned, arousal spiking at the rough treatment. Nix answered with a low growl. His lips returned again and again, eagerly, and each time they did, it was as if a door was thrown wide open within Derrick, flooding him with heat and light – a revelation.

This was what he wanted, what he craved – a hard, muscular angularity and a strength to rival his. His own body leapt in response. When Nix's arms went around his neck, pulled him tight, close, he wanted to rejoice at the rightness of it all. The sense of connection that, despite everything, went far beyond the heat and incandescence of the moment.

When Nix broke away to gasp for air, Derrick blew soft puffs of breathless laughter against his neck.

"What?" Nix asked. His voice was low, gritty, almost a whisper. "What?" His hands trembled on Derrick's hips.

Derrick placed a kiss at his throat before moving his lips to Nix's ear. He laughed again, feeling freer than he could remember. "You asked me about my spark."

Nix's hands slid to Derrick's waist and his fingers tightened. "Yes?"

"I think I've found it."

He felt more than heard Nix's low cry against his cheek. But it chilled him nonetheless. Foreboding bloomed as Nix pulled away and stepped back.

"What?"

"Come with me," Nix coaxed. "Come inside."

The dread swelled, choking him.

"Why?"

"Please."

The door behind them opened. Derrick straightened, his hands moving belatedly to smooth his clothing. But the conductor paid him no mind. He pointed at Nix. "You! I don't care who you are. I've had about enough of your games and shenanigans. Now get inside and take your seat. We'll be pulling in to the station in a few minutes." He straightened his cap. "I, for one, will be glad to get you off my train."

Derrick went hot with anger. "How dare you!"

Nix swiped a hand across his mouth. "I was just on my way back. I apologize for whatever problems I may have caused you. That wasn't my intention."

The conductor snorted. "A bit late for that, isn't it? You were hired to help the situation, not make it worse by going around talking to yourself. Now as I said, take you seat. We arrive in Redtop in fifteen minutes."

"Where?" Derrick asked. "I've never heard of the place. There is no station before Santa Fe. Now, who the hell do you think you are, speaking to a passenger like that, and what in God's name are you talking about?"

The conductor turned away amid the shrieking of the train whistle.

"I am speaking to you, sir!" Derrick yelled, furious. He stepped forward.

"Derrick."

"Do not turn your back on me!"

"Derrick!" Nix yelled.

Derrick watched in shock as the conductor disappeared back through the door. He spun around. "Explain this," he hissed.

The tortured look had returned. "He can't hear you."

Derrick shook his head, trying to make sense of the statement. "What did you say?"

"He can't hear you. He can't see you." Nix took a deep breath. "Now…please come inside. We need to talk."

Derrick began to shiver in the chill air. "You're mad."

Nix flinched. He held out his hand. "Please. Just let me talk to you for a few minutes. That's all I’m asking."

Numb, Derrick nodded. At some point during the past few hours, he'd lost the ability to deny Nix anything.

They walked back in silence, Derrick looking neither to the left or right. When they reached their seats, he collapsed onto the hard, unforgiving wood.

For several minutes, he ignored Nix, despite how his presence seemed to charge the air with electricity. He placed his palm against the glass, hyperaware of its chill and how his palm made a damp imprint. "I can feel this," he said, inanely. "I can feel things." He turned to look at Nix. "I felt you."

Nix scooted closer. "And I felt you."

Derrick shook his head. "I don't – I don't believe this."

"That's why I'm here."

Nix reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved the journal Derrick recalled from earlier. He flipped it open to a marked page and traced a finger over a sepia-colored photograph. "There's almost nothing in here about you. Just your name on the passenger list. I had to start from scratch." He sighed and held the journal out to Derrick. "Once I knew who you were."

Derrick didn't take the book. He stared at Nix. "Start from scratch," he croaked.

"To find out why you were still here. So I could help you. That's what I do."

The journal beckoned; his law school portrait stared out at him, messy writing scratched into the margin alongside. A folded newspaper article on crinkled, yellowed paper lay next to it. Derrick shuddered. "I don't want that," he whispered. He crossed his arms, hugging his elbows to his chest.

Slowly, Nix drew the journal back. He unfolded the article and smoothed it out. "On April 18, 1931, this train was hit by a rockslide while navigating the Canyon River Pass." He paused. "It derailed."

"No," Derrick whispered.

The jolt. The screech.

"The entire train was carried down the slope and then fell into the Canyon River Gorge. The wreckage wasn't discovered for nearly a month."

The screaming.

He tried to focus on the printed words, but his eyes betrayed him, straying instead to scraps of other articles glued to the page behind it. Famous route reopens! Restored train in trouble! Unexplainable. Disturbances. Ghosts?

In a flash, Derrick snatched the journal out of Nix's hands and threw it across the compartment. Nearby, someone gasped, and he heard a child's voice ring out. "Did you see that, Mommy?"

The young woman across the row sprang to her feet. Eyeing Nix, she fled down the aisle, daughter in tow. "But did you see it?" Derrick heard the child say. "The book flew! I told you the train was haunted!"

The jolt. The screech. The screaming.

"Why are you doing this?" Derrick asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Pale and trembling, looking miserable, Nix answered, "It's what I do. I just want to help you."

"Do I need help?"

"Yes. You do. It's time, Derrick. Time to get off."

The train had stopped moving. Derrick felt none of the familiar rocking, the unpredictable jolts he'd grown used to. Inexplicably, he wished for them back. The stillness felt wrong. He looked up and down the aisles, but saw no one. Only he and Nix remained.

Outside the window, nothing moved, but for a few wisps of fog in the blackness.

"We're here," Nix said.

Derrick nodded and rose. He walked to the door in jerks and starts, like a puppet with an angry master, but Nix was there behind him, a calming presence, and before he realized it, he was on the platform between cars, hovering at the top of the steep stairs.

Nix had said there was a station. But Derrick saw nothing. Only the stairs, the fog, and the dark.

"I know you're scared," Nix whispered from behind him. "But there's nothing to be afraid of."

Derrick gave a nervous laugh. He fumbled for his handkerchief and blotted the sweat from his lip. "No?"

"Don't fear what's beyond your control. Isn't that how you lived your life?" Nix moved close and pressed against his side.

"It's how I try to live it." He turned and Nix was close. Ready. Eager. When they kissed it was soft, sweet, and very final.

But as he tried to retreat, Nix uncoiled and curled one long arm about his waist, jerking him in close. Derrick made a deep, almost desperate sound, but found he couldn't care. Just as Nix's arms went around him again and his legs parted for Derrick to slide between, just as his mouth opened to deliver another kiss, Derrick thrust his hands between them and pushed him gently away.

He knew the soft, pained look on Nix's face mirrored his own.

"I’m sorry," Nix whispered. He pressed their foreheads together and spoke his words against Derrick's lips. "I shouldn't have…I only wanted to help."

Derrick nodded, quite beyond words. He gestured at the stairs and arched an eyebrow, conveying with gallows humor, he hoped, everything he was unable to say.

Nix looked to where he pointed. Lips pressed into a tight, thin line, he nodded. Once.

Derrick swallowed hard. He pried himself from Nix's grasp, turned his back, and descended the first riser on shaky legs.

"Very well, Nix. I'll do it. I'll do it for you." The next step waited, and he moved down onto it. "I won't be afraid."

But the fear still licked at the edges of his mind. He concentrated on a memory of Nix's eyes, and the way they sparked when Derrick touched him.

He stepped into the abyss.

fin