A/N: I've had this idea for quite a while, but it sat in a doc for around three months before I had some inspiration for it today :) This is a gift for Meowser_Clancy as she helped me with the final scene and she's my best friend. I hope you all enjoy xx Mariah

James Clancy had switched trains at the last minute, from the ten o'clock to Jersey to the eight fifty going to New York. After seeing it was 8:47 on his father's pocket watch, Jim grabbed his ticket from the teller and took off running in the other direction.

He had fully intended not to go home just yet. He'd did just get home from the war, after all, but after considering his options he thought it would be best to go home after all.

The crunch of leaves under his army-issued-boots, was oddly satisfying, as he took deliberate steps toward the train on the tenth platform. Just as the warning whistle blew, he stepped onto the train, letting the train conductor stamp his ticket before he walked onto the open compartment. He immediately was bombarded with the smell of smoke and alcohol.

This was not the kind of train he usually wandered into. He had never left home before the war. He lived on Long Island, in a nice enough house with the rest of the family. He was the youngest in the family, a family man, not someone impulsive, or rebellious, but tonight, he was feeling different.

He'd had just about enough of being around his family, and his brother could go to hell.

In the last few days since Jim had gotten home, he'd learned that his father had died and his older brother had inherited everything. The stock business, the cars, and the house. Not only had the bastard gotten out of being drafted with a heart defect, but inherited all of their father's fortune. And what did his father leave James? Nothing but a pocket watch he'd given him before he was drafted.

Jim wandered further into the depths of the compartment, the lights so dim and sensual that he could hardly see his own feet. People were scattered around, holding their drinks and laughing amongst their groups of friends and family.

That was when he saw her.

She wore a dark red dress that was much more distracting than the ones the women of Long Island wore. Her dark hair was cut by her jaw, curling just slightly over. She was gorgeous, different, and nothing like anyone he'd ever seen before.

Jim quickly found himself entranced, walking toward the empty seat beside her as he held onto his large sack over his shoulder. A serviceman took it from him, bringing it to the luggage cart.

He cleared his throat, taking off his cap. "Ma'am? Is this seat taken?" He asked, leaning down slightly to hear the beautiful woman's reply.

She turned and smiled at him, her eyes moving up and down his uniform. "Not at all," she said, her sultry voice filling his ears. He could watch her for days. "I'm happy to have some company."

He nodded, sitting down next to her. "What brings you on this train?"

"I'm headed home, from my grandparents summer house," she said, turning to look out at the dim countryside out her window. "Are you headed home too?"

"Yes, to Long Island," he nodded. "Where about are you headed?"

"I live in Manhattan with my mother and father," she whispered, smiling at him. "My father was the one who thought a summer away would help me get back on track."

"Back on track for what?" He asked.

"To be married of course," she sighed, taking a sip of her drink. "I'm not a suitable heir to the family, so my future husband is. My father is very excited for me to meet his suitors. He even brought one on this train for me to try and charm."

He was familiar with no being a suitable heir. His father had told him that he didn't have the gumption to be a businessman, and the best thing Jim had going for him was to die in the war. But he'd survived, so that was something, right?

He stayed quiet longer than he intended, even after he'd agreed on what he'd wanted to say. Instead, he watched her, the sadness in her relaxed features as she finished her drink.

"Would you like a drink?" She asked him, noticing his eyes were firmly glued to the finger that.

"I'm just fine without one," he shook his head.

"You don't get out often do you?" she asked him, pushing a fallen black curl back behind his ear.

"How would you know?" he was enthralled at her touch, blushing slightly at her.

"Most men would jump at the chance for a drink," she started, pulling on the perfectly pressed lapel of his uniform. "And yet you didn't."

"I don't need liquor to have a good time," he replied, watching her red-painted lips form a smile.

"Well, I would argue that you've never known what a good time is." She chuckled.

She ordered them both drinks, leaning back into her seat a little more. After another drink he found his whole body feeling looser, and he had another, saying to the service boy that it was to be his last one.

It was all too easy to take one more sip, and then another, and another, until his glass was drained once again. And she did the same.

"Would you like to walk me to my room? I'm feeling a bit.. tired," she asked, standing up slowly. Her feet were a little uneasy under her wobbly legs, but James stepped in and held onto her arms. "Oh, thank you…" She paused to look up at him. "I don't believe you've told me your name yet, mystery soldier."

"James Clancy," he said. "But you can call me Jim."

"It's nice to meet you, Jim." She smiled up at him. "My room is just through here."

He nodded, walking with her toward the doors. "And what about your name?" He asked.

She looked up at him, her eyes telling him she didn't wish to tell him yet, but an attendant stopped them before she could speak.

"Excuse me, sir," the attendant said, stepping in front of them. "This lady isn't alone and her companion should be back any moment."

"I'm fine. This man here is a friend of mine," she reassured the man with a nod. "He was just walking me to my room." She went to step past the boy when a man in a tuxedo tailored to fit him like a second skin and a waistcoat appeared from the compartment ahead of them.

"Miss Gordon! There you are!" The other man cheered. "Your father just asked me to fetch you. He has a business meeting that you must attend."

"George, must you always be so loud? A business meeting with my father?" She seemed confused, shaking her head and stepped away from Jim. "My father never told me of this supposed meeting. Can't I just go to my room?"

"Not yet, your father says you must be there." George huffed and shook his head. "All you have to worry about is looking pretty and let the men handle the business, Melinda." He eyed Jim for a second. "Well, certain men at least. You should let whoever this is... get back to his seat."

Jim decided to ignore the businessman George's snub and reclaimed the woman's hand in his. "Are you sure you wouldn't still like me to take you to your room?" He asked.

"You won't be taking my daughter anywhere with you," another man came out, his stride showing his confidence in himself. He must be her father, as the man explained. "We must be going, darling. Daniel is waiting to meet you. I assured him you're the prettiest of the girls in your class at NYU."

"Oh, father, please stop that." She sighed, pulling away. She didn't like the way he tried to dote on her in front of people and shook her head. "You know I hate it when you're like this."

The moment Jim was met with his face, he knew who the man was.

Thomas Gordon was a notable businessman, having several footholds in the railroad industry. He had no shortage when it came to funds, not only from what he'd heard from his brother and father but from the papers too. He tended to look like a kind man, but Tom would sooner put a bullet through someone's head if it meant his own happiness, so Jim was wary of him, even more so than he was of his daughter.

How did he not put two and two together with her last name when he'd first heard it moments before?

"I'm only telling the truth. You are beautiful and you have always been a very curious girl, darling. Especially to wander up to this cart at night by yourself, so far away from our kind." Her father added, smiling at her.

"What exactly is my kind, father?" She asked, crossing her arms.

"Oh you know, anyone but the third class." Thomas spat out the word like he was swearing. He looked behind her at Jim. His uniform barely impressed him, even after protecting the country for the last year and nearly dying at least a dozen different times and ways. "Shouldn't you be back with the rats by now boy?"

"Father!" She hissed, shaking her head at him. "Leave him be. He was kind to me."

"Of course," Thomas boasted. "A pretty girl, in a beautiful dress, who wouldn't be kind to her? What were they doing?" He tossed a five dollar bill to the service attendant.

"The soldier was bringing Miss. Gordon back to her room," the attendant spilled instantly, tucking the money into his pocket.

Her father raised an eyebrow but didn't turn his gaze away from her. "To your room? You stupid girl! He's vermin and he knows it."

"I'd rather him be vermin in your eyes than anything like you," she replied, rolling her eyes. "I was only wanting him to walk me to my door, father. I'm a respectable woman, remember?"

"Not from what I've heard from your mother and you should watch your mouth, daughter of mine. I could ruin you." Thomas raised a hand to her face, but hovered it there near her chin, never actually touching her. "You wouldn't want me to ruin that pretty face of yours, would you now daughter?"

She bit her lip to keep from uttering anything else as she nodded and her father smiled, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Her eyes met Jim's hesitantly for only a moment before her father turned her face to look at him.

"Your mother wishes to speak with you in private before you meet Daniel, alright my darling?" Thomas said.

"She is not my mother. She made that pretty well known when you got married to her father," she said to him, shaking her head before she looked back Jim again, sighing as she smiled at him and then took the opportunity to slip away

Jim couldn't blame her, but he still didn't want her to leave. But she was gone, taking away even the trace of her shadow. Her father stayed for a moment, clearing his throat and the compartment emptied quickly, leaving them alone.

"Rubbing up with my daughter, are you?" Her father clapped his hand around his shoulder. "Of all the women on this train, boy?"

"It wasn't like that Mr. Gordon, I only just met her." He reassured the man. "I had only good intentions of walking her to her door. I promise, sir."

"What difference does that make?" Thomas chuckled. "If you had a piece of her then you did, you aren't the first street rat I've found her with."

Her father spoke mindlessly and loudly, his drunkenness showing. He looked genuinely dumbfounded and rolled his eyes at him. He didn't believe a word her father was saying.

"Look, I couldn't care less about you going after my daughter. She's a beauty, just like her mother was before she left me and a young man like you has his needs. I understand that more than anyone," Thomas had his arm wrapped around his shoulder and pulled him close to speak to him face-to-face. "However, I would expect you to find a woman of your class next time."

When Thomas tapped his finger on his cheek as he pulled back, Jim had to clench his fist to keep from lashing out. The audacity this man had to speak about his own daughter the way he was was disgusting.

"What about that young girl?" Thomas pointed at a lonely looking blonde in the open-class train compartment. "The poor woman is all alone anyway. Go give her some company and then some… you deserve it after all this bloody war mess." The man nodded to him with a wink and a clap to his back. "Just stay away from my daughter for the rest of this train ride. You'll never see her again after tomorrow afternoon anyway."

Before he knew it, Jim was being escorted back to his seat, next to her empty one, but as soon as the attendant left, he went back to the door to steal a peek at his mystery woman.

He watched as her father introduced someone, a blond man, who stood, kissing the cheek of the girl whose name he didn't even know. It enraged him. He wished to be in that man until he saw his face.

It was his brother. Daniel

Of course.

This woman was yet another thing his brother would take away from him.

James pondered what he wanted to do. Instead of taking immediate action as Jim hoped he would, he returned to his seat and ordered another drink.

He took the moment as he took his first sip to run a hand through his hair before fixing his cap atop his head. He finished the drink quickly and stood.

He knew he was daring when he stepped into the first-class compartment, but Jim was on a mission to see his brother, whether Thomas Gordon or anyone else liked it or not. The mystery woman being there was just chance once he'd seen his brother, right?

"Daniel!" Jim called out and both the woman and her father looked over in his direction.

She studied him, so confused to how he'd know the man her father was trying to pawn her off on.

The blond man turned, smiling at his brother. "James! Is that really you?" The woman eyed him. He couldn't imagine what he must look like to her now, the brother of the man her father wanted to give her away to so easily. "You're alive!" His older brother cheered, hugging him quickly. "It's so good to see you, little brother."

"This man is your brother?" Thomas cleared his throat. He was looking at Jim like he was still an insect that sat on his new pair of shoes. A dangerous insect that needed to be squashed quickly. "This man was just trying to bring Melinda back to her room a moment ago."

His eyes flitted to hers. He'd finally learned her name, and it felt like he'd known it always in the beauty and kindness she'd shown him.

There was another woman seated beside Melinda as he'd learned by looking around, and Daniel took no time in coming to his brother's defense as he sat down beside Melinda. He pointed a chair beside him that was empty. "Well I have no doubts Jim was just being a gentleman to your daughter, Tom," Daniel reassured him. "Our mother loved him a little too much as a child, I think. Is it alright if he sat with us since George turned in? He is my little brother after all. He just came back from war."

"Of course," Thomas muttered, itching his neck uneasily and he kept a straight face. "Sit, boy." He must really want Daniel to marry his daughter if he was letting him sit with them.

"And may I ask, who is this?" He smiled at the youngish woman that sat beside Melinda and between her and her father. She couldn't have been that much older than thirty, but he was guessing on that. She may just have a lot of powder on. "Not to be rude."

"That would be Tom's wife, Julia, and Carol should be around here somewhere too, that's her daughter from her first marriage." Daniel quickly explained, lighting his cigarette. "Melinda is from Tom's first marriage as well."

"Can I be excused?" Melinda suddenly said, sighing. He could see how badly she just wanted to get out of this conversation and room. Was it him? Had he ruined everything? "I'm not feeling well. I'm would like to get a bit of fresh air and turn in."

"Of course, darling," Thomas nodded, taking a sip of his scotch. "See you in the morning."

"Would you like me to accompany you to your room?" Daniel rose from his seat, quickly putting out his cigarette when she distastefully looked away as he puffed out a bit of smoke into her face. "I'd like to learn more about you. You're quite the mystery, Miss. Gordon."

"In the morning we'll have a better chance to get to know each other. I'm feeling quite tired," she spoke politely to him, but only offered Daniel a smile before turning away. "It was nice to meet you."

"I should be getting to my bunk," James interrupted and stood. He didn't have much to talk to his brother about, and he did not want to be with Thomas Gordon any longer than he had to. "I'm feeling the length of my trip."

"Nonsense brother. You aren't going to sleep in any bunk tonight," Daniel said, chuckling. "You can stay in one of my staterooms. I got two when I thought father would be coming along. It's a shame you couldn't say goodbye to him."

"Yes, a shame." He muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He couldn't stand this any longer either. Everything was so fake. He could see why Melinda couldn't bear it either. "I should be getting to sleep though. I have had a long journey."

"I bet you have," Daniel fished a key from his pocket and tossed it to him. "You might be able to catch up to Melinda and she can show you if not the room number is on the key."

"Yes, thank you. I really appreciate it. Goodnight." He's quiet for a moment before he turned to where Melinda had gone. He held the gold key in his hand, shaking his head. Such distaste, to have something of such luxury be just the key to a lock on a door.

He saw Melinda as she stood just feet from the doors to the compartment, leaning against the hallway wall, catching her chest. She was breathing quickly, possibly crying, from what he could tell and he picked up his pace a bit to reach her.

"Melinda?" He asked softly. "Are you alright?" He heard her sniffled now as she looked up at him. Her brown eyes were red and filled with more tears. The makeup under eyes was smeared as well and black tear trails were over both of her cheeks. "Oh, Melinda, what's wrong?"

"Why are you so kind to me, Jim?" She asked, pulling her hands away as he tried to hold them. "Your brother is so different. How can you be… so kind when he is so much like my father?"

"My brother was right when my mother held onto me a bit more than him as a child. My father was closer to Daniel, that's why he got the entirety of the family name when he passed." He shrugged, sighing. "I guess that could be why. Do you wish me to be more like your father or my brother?"

"No. Never," she whispered, shaking her head. "Please never be a man like them."

He nodded and offered his arm to her. "Have a walk with me? I have no idea where this room might be," he sighed, showing her the key.

"This is one of Daniel's rooms," she said softly, looking up at him from the key. "Did he give it to you?"

"He said he had one to spare, yes," he said, clearing his throat. "I thought it would've been rude of me to decline."

"And harsh on your back if you did too," she shook her head. "Those bunks in the third-class rooms are hardly beds for anyone."

"That is very true," he said, but shrugged. "But I've slept with no bed before, Mel. I'd be fine."

There had been too many nights over there during the war when all he had was the bits of grass they'd hope to find to sleep in, not that he could sleep for long before it was time for him to watch over everyone else while they slept.

"Mel?" She looked up at him as they walked through another compartment of staterooms.

"I hope you don't mind the nickname," he whispered. "I thought it would suit you."

"Not at all," she blushed. "It was just my mother used to call me Mellie and it's been so long since anyone has cared enough to give me a nickname," she whispered, smiling for a moment as another tear fell down her cheek quickly. "It was just… strange to hear."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did she pass when you were young?" He asked.

"No, she left my father and me too, I guess." She shrugged, explaining quickly. The pain behind her eyes was present. "She ran away with the driver, Mr. Eastman. My father doesn't dare talk about it anymore. He was humiliated and I was barely thirteen without a mother when I needed her most. When father told me he was getting married before the year was over, I was excited at first, but Julia has always been cold. She has her own daughter to love."

"Melinda, I'm sorry that your mother did that to you." He spoke softly and then turned, quickly hugging her.

She was startled by the action, her arms taking time to wrap around his body. She was soft, untouchable to him, something he wasn't familiar with. The only women he'd seen in the last year where the girls who leered at the men when they happened to camp near a village or town. Those women were not anything close to the woman before him.

Melinda was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his entire life.

He stepped back, smiling at her as they began walking a bit more. "I wish to know more about you," he said.

"What do you want to know?" She asked, breathlessly.

"What's your favorite childhood memory?" He said quickly.

"So we're starting with the deep stuff?" She laughed, looking at the key again and then coming to a stop in front of the next room.

"No need for superficial conversation, miss," he chuckled. "Out with it."

She laughed and then pondered for a moment. "I've always lived in the middle of the city, so it wasn't often that I would get to see the ocean unless I would beg. But sometimes when my mother was around and had time to spare, she'd take me to see the ocean. There was a beach we'd always go to and we'd sit and have a picnic and play in the water." She didn't expect to say all that, but the memory captivated her and she shook her head, smiling at him. "I suppose that would be something I favored as a child. What's yours?"

"I used to watch the sunset with my mother. She would paint, and the sunset was my favorite thing to study when I was over there," he didn't want to go into more detail about his time on the battlefield and quickly went back to the sunset. "It would help keep my mind off all the bad."

"That must've been very important to you." She concluded.

"It still is," he said softly, brushing his hair back. "I miss my mother dearly. She was the only good thing in my life."

Her heart stalled in her chest for a moment and she had to breathe past it. "It's hard to find a man that is fond of their mother like you. It's nice to see," she said softly, stopping in front of a door and handing him his key back. "This is your room. I supposed should leave you now, that would be the respectable thing to do."

"Or you could step in for a moment, but only if you wanted," he said, putting the key into the door. He unlocked it quickly and opened the door before turning back to her.

"I'll come in for a moment," she whispered, nodding, and then stepping inside.

The decoration—in Empire style—was borderline excessive in its opulence. The sitting room was large and just to the left was a suite bath and a wardrobe, but the most notable feature was its large bed with at least six pillows at the head.

Jim didn't say anything for a moment then he turned back around to look at her and his eyes meet hers. He didn't know what he wanted, all thoughts left his head. He couldn't help but feel drawn to her. She followed him with a slow approach toward him.

"Jim," she whispered before he could say anything. "Thank you for being there with me tonight… when you found me in the hallway and earlier." The deep pools of blue in his eyes gazed at her so intensely that it took her breath away. "I don't think you understood how much it meant to me when you asked to sit next to me, Jim," she whispered, suddenly finding herself leaning toward him.

He had only wanted to make her feel better. He smiled softly and led her to one of the sitting areas, leaning back on the couch.

She wanted to kiss him. He could tell in the way she glanced at his lips and then back up to his eyes.

It was only a moment later when he leaned in and then they were kissing. His warm lips seemed to melt into hers. Her bottom lip found its way between his lips and she found herself drawing closer to him as his hands came up to either side of her face, his thumbs gently brushing her cheeks.

He opened her mouth a little bit and he followed, tentatively pushing his tongue into her mouth. She opened her mouth wider for him, and he tilted his head to one side to deepen the kiss, lowering his arms to her waist to pull her even closer. He was being careful not to rip her dress. It looked too beautiful on her after all.

She wrapped her arms around his neck in return. One of his hands went to the back of her head, tangling itself in her short hair. She suddenly realized something hard was pressing against her stomach. Her instinct was to pull away from him, but she liked it. She'd never felt like this with anyone, not even with Rick, and that had been two years prior.

When she pressed herself against him a little more, he tore his lips away from her and exhaled slowly. He laid back just a little bit to remove his hips from her and leaned his forehead against hers. They stayed like that for several moments, just holding each other.

Finally, he broke the silence, his words coming out quickly and panicked when she hadn't said anything to him. "Melinda, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken advantage–" He knew how vulnerable she was, and till he'd asked her to his room and now had kissed her with the hands of a foolish teenager on the brain.

"Shh," she urged, pressing her fingers to his lips. "You don't have to say anything and please don't apologize. I wanted you to kiss me." She let out a breath and pulled her forehead away from his to look at him better. "But I really should go… before my father comes looking for me and I'm not in my room."

"That would likely be for the best. I'm afraid I might not have stopped if you hadn't," he said barely above a whisper, his voice tinged with sadness. "Please tell me I'll see you again."

His eyes were so full of hope and even desperation that she couldn't bear the thought of what they would look like if she told him no. "Of course," she whispered, placing one last gentle kiss on his lips as she moved up from the couch. She straightened out her dress quickly before turning back to smile at him. "In the morning, how about we meet for breakfast?"

"That sounds wonderful, though I'm sure your father won't like to too much" he grinned, his thoughts lingering to how sweet and soft her lips felt against his. "I'll see you tomorrow, Melinda."

She nodded and started to walk away, but then quickly turned around and leaned down to kiss him on the lips once more.

He chuckled, leaning in to press his forehead against hers. "I wish for you to stay with me," he whispered, his hand roaming over her hips to pull her against him. "Is that selfish?"

"Not at all," she grinned and leaned against him, only feeling her heart bleed for this man who she'd just met not long ago. "I want to stay."

"What about your father?" He asked her as leaned back slightly.

"To hell with him," she whispered, closing the gap between their lips once again.

Sunlight crept through the blinds, and Jim was greeted with the smooth olive skin of Melinda's back. He smiled for just a moment, lost in the memories of the previous night's events. He learned for the first time what it really meant to have a good time.

Soon, that all changed.

His responsibilities felt like bricks upon his shoulder, slowly crushing him into dust. He couldn't ask Melinda to leave her life. She was safe with her father's money, even if she was unhappy. He didn't know if he could ever give her that nice of life in any lifetime.

He pulled himself out of bed reluctantly, pulling his jacket back on. The morning had come too soon.

His head throbbed slightly from the alcohol he'd had, yet he found it reassuring. It was a reminder that last night hadn't all been a dream.

In the end, his only souvenir of the night was a stain of red lipstick on his wrinkled undershirt. He didn't want to leave Melinda, to eventually forget everything they'd had together, but he had known the consequences would catch up with him all too soon.

Had her father realized she hadn't gone to her room last night? Would Thomas kill him when he found out that he'd brought his daughter to bed?

Even if it took everything from him, James couldn't make himself forget about Melinda. Nothing about his life felt satisfactory anymore. He couldn't make himself keep this from her any longer.

He laid back into bed and waited for her to wake. It wasn't long until she turned toward him and smiled at him sleepily. "Good morning," Melinda whispered.

"It's a wonderful morning," he said softly, though he didn't know how could say this to her.

"What's wrong?" She asked, seeing the sadness on his face almost immediately. Her small hands came up to his chest, warming him and wrapping around his neck. "Did something happen?"

"I'm sorry, Melinda," he said softly, brushing a hand through his unruly blond locks.

"Sorry for what, Jim?" She asked, her eyes warm as they met his.

"I wish more than anything that we could be together, but I don't know how. I feel like… somehow my journey was to you on this train." He leaned his forehead against hers. He never wanted to be without her, not ever again. "It is you. I want to be with you forever, in our own little world."

Her tear stained face staring at him longingly. "Jim," she whispered. "I don't want this life with my father's money. I want a happy and full life, with you."

"You do?" He asked.

"Yes," she whispered. "We should get off the train. The first stop is just outside the city and then my father will never find us."

"But what money will we have?" He asked, reasoning with her just enough.

"I have some jewelry of mine that we can sell," she said softly, leaning in to kiss his lips lightly. She pulled back, touching his face. "I don't care about money. I only care about you."

He wanted Melinda Gordon to be his forever, no matter the cost, no matter the consequence. He wanted to marry her, and care for her, and feel her love every moment of every day.

That was the life he wanted.

He leaned in to kiss her lips lightly once more and knew he would never let her go. He would marry Melinda one day.