There was only one empty seat in the carriage and the woman in the seat beside it didn't look like she welcomed company. While her things were neatly arranged under her seat and by her feet—only taking up her space—the frown on her lips and the slight glare in the furrow of her eyebrows were entirely unwelcoming. With no other options, he slid the bag from his shoulder and stuffed it under the seat before he sat down.
She looked up from her book, long and slender fingers easing the cover shut with one of her fingers as a bookmark. Glasses perched at the end of her nose, she stared at him. He smiled apologetically.
"Only empty seat. It's not taken, is it?" He hoped it wasn't, dreading having to cross to the next carriage in search of a seat.
"No," she answered after a moment, the word drawn out. Something flickered across her face, but it disappeared before he could acknowledge or decipher it.
"Oh. Good." He shrugged and settled back into the mildly uncomfortable seat, glancing out the window at the passing cityscape. They'd be free of it soon with hundreds of miles of countryside between the train and their destination. "Are you going all the way to New York?"
"Yes." Short, simple answers. He nodded and loosely crossed his arms, watching as she turned back to her book, a small frown appearing on her lips.
Andy wasn't looking forward to the almost three day long trip, but he was eager to get out of LA for a bit. Now that his divorce was finalized, he felt free in a way. Not that he didn't miss his wife—ex-wife—and kids, but to have that stress removed from his life was freeing. The woman beside him was still and silent as he drifted off in his thoughts, day quickly turning to evening and then night as the train sped on.
"What's your name?" he finally asked when dinner had come and gone and she hadn't had a bite to eat.
She looked up from her book for the second time since he had met her, her frown reappearing and deepening. He worried this trip had just lengthened. She adjusted her glasses and slid a bookmark between the pages of her book before she closed it completely.
"Sharon," she answered, piercing green eyes narrowing a little behind her glasses.
"It's nice to meet you, Sharon. I'm Andy." He flashed her his most charismatic grin—the one that had won his wife over—and was surprised to see her expression lighten.
"Andy. It's nice to meet you." She nodded her head and started to turn back to her book, but his voice halted her movements.
"You don't mind me sitting here, do you?" Though he had already been there for hours, he didn't want to make her unnecessarily uncomfortable. He knew he could find a seat elsewhere.
"No, when I'm really unhappy about something, people never have to ask." She shifted in her seat and folded her hands on top of the book, her fingers loosely intertwining.
He didn't quite know how to respond with that; he nodded and cleared his throat. "Are you traveling alone?" He saw the concern flicker across her face and quickly tried to backtrack. "I don't mean… Shit, I'm sorry. I'll stop getting up in your business. If it means anything, I'm a cop and not a creep."
"You say that like the two can't overlap." She shifted again and moved her jacket aside. He watched as she pulled a badge from her waistband and held it up. "Captain Raydor with the SFPD."
He pulled his own badge out and held it up too. "Lieutenant Flynn, LAPD." He paused and a small smirk crossed his lips. "You sound like someone from IA."
"I am, actually. Head of SFPD's department." They both replaced their badges and she slipped her book into the bag at her feet. "How could you tell?"
"I've had enough run ins with your LAPD counterparts." He shrugged it off, more relieved to have her talking instead of her stoic silence.
She raised an eyebrow. "For the record, I am traveling alone. My daughter has the lead in The Nutcracker. My husband was supposed to join me but…" She trailed off and he noted the lack of a ring on her finger. "We've been separated for two decades. It was stupid to think he'd come."
She cleared her throat and looked out the dark window. Even the lights in the train had been dimmed to accommodate the passengers actually trying to get some rest. He watched her for a moment and then settled back in his seat, deciding he'd try to get some rest while he could.
After the first stop just before dawn, the train emptied considerably and Andy considered moving, but Sharon's head was on his shoulder and he didn't want to wake her. By the time breakfast made it's way around, she was up and talking again. Most of the unfriendliness he had sensed the day before was gone.
He learned about her two children and he spoke about the two kids he had left behind. He could tell she started to judge him when he opened up about his recently ended marriage, but she clammed up almost immediately and didn't speak until after lunch.
"You'll make an effort with your kids, won't you?" She spoke softly, her gaze focused on her intertwined fingers.
He looked up from his phone, his brow furrowing. "Why wouldn't I? Just because my relationship with their mother didn't work out doesn't mean I want to ignore them. They're my kids. I love them."
"Some people don't," she replied after several moments of silence.
It took him a moment to put the pieces together. "Your husband?"
She laughed and he was surprised to hear such a bitter sound come from the beautiful woman beside him. She clenched her hands briefly and looked up at him. They had known each other for just over a day and he had bared more of his soul to her than he had bared to his wife in the past year.
"He left 20-some years ago for the first time. Came home drunk, we fought, he wasn't there the next morning. So it became more and more common. He was gone more often than not and left me with two small kids." Her voice was the same soft tone as before and it almost sounded distant this time, even as she looked at him with eyes swimming in tears.
"I'm so sorry, Sharon."
She waved his apology away. "Finally I told him just to stay away. Legal separation. We couldn't divorce of a few reasons, so we just… stopped." She wiped at her eyes and took a deep breath. "I told him that Emily would want him there. He's been to a small handful of her recitals and she's been dancing since she could walk."
He watched her sadly; the similarities between Sharon and his wife were a sharp pain in his chest he couldn't ignore.
"It's been twenty years and I thought enough was enough. I made the decision that if he could drag himself to New York sober to see his daughter, maybe there was something worth fighting for." She was silent for several moments and he quietly waited to see if she would continue.
"But he didn't show up," he finished, his voice just as soft, utterly gentle.
She shook her head and her tongue darted out to wet her lips. The pale pink lipstick that had been there when he met her was long gone. "No. I called my lawyer when we stopped the last time. He'll get the papers to my husband and it could all be over by the time I get back to California."
"It's the right decision," he offered after a moment of hesitation. "You've given him more than enough chances to turn his life around and now it's time to think about what's best for you."
He reached out and rested his hand over hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She gave him a watery smile. Silence settled over them again and for the first time, Andy realized how comfortable the silence was between them. It wasn't tense or uncomfortable, it just was.
His hand rested over hers for several minutes until she pulled it back to cautiously dab at her eyes, careful not to smear any of her remaining makeup.
"You never said why you're going to New York," she murmured, her eyes returning to him. They were still watery and he could tell she was trying to put up the front that she was okay. He wondered how often she had done that over the years.
"Family," he answered with a half shrug. "Now that my divorce is done, I thought it would be a good time to get away and see my brothers."
"Sounds relaxing."
"You don't know my brothers. Someone is likely to end up with a black eye or two." He laughed and his hand returned to hers. This time, she squeezed his hand and managed a small laugh too.
The rest of their trip was more lighthearted, trading stories of their kids and work. When the train inevitably pulled into Pennsylvania Station, Andy found himself momentarily at a loss for what to do. They had formed an easy friendship and though they lived a few hours from each other, the chances of seeing her again were slim.
They gathered their bags and stood, stretching out tired limbs and mutually deciding that they were too old to be traveling like this. They entered the station laughing and stood by each other for several minutes.
"I hope you enjoy your daughter's ballet. I'm sure she'll be brilliant." He smiled and adjusted his hold on his bag.
"She will," Sharon responded, no hint of modesty in her expression as she smiled back, "but thank you. Enjoy beating up your brothers."
"Oh, yes." He grinned and she winked as they both took small steps away from each other. "It was nice to meet you, Sharon. Have a safe trip back."
"You too, Andy. Thank you."
They watched each other for a moment more before she turned—reddish hair swinging over her shoulder—and started for the doors with her bag rolling behind her.