The artificial light from the chandelier wasn't much to work with at this hour. Frank had pulled the standing lamp over from the corner. Joe had fallen asleep an hour ago, and a small puddle of drool was starting to creep its way across the tabletop. Frank glanced over, sighed, and shifted some papers away from the imminent saliva tsunami. He knew it was late and they should go to bed; even Charleena Purcell had retired about half an hour ago, and the break from the tap-tap-tap of her keyboard was refreshing. But he was waiting on Nancy. She had promised to come back and talk to them before she went to bed, and Frank knew she was true to her word. At the same time, he knew she wouldn't blame him—them—for going to bed.

He was just giving serious consideration to going to bed and catching up with Nancy in the morning when the door from the sleeping car opened. Nancy poked her head around the corner. She spotted Joe—who had begun to snore—and flashed Frank an amused smile. She tiptoed over-dramatically to the table and slipped into the seat to his right. She opened her mouth to say something, glanced at Joe again, and scooted her chair closer to Frank. Frank, for his part, raised an eyebrow at her and tried to ignore that his heart was in his throat.

"What'd you find out?" he whispered.

"Well—"

Nancy broke off as Joe stirred. They'd been quiet, but apparently not enough. He blinked blearily, then sat up quickly and looked between the pair of them, hastily wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

"I wasn't sleeping."

Frank and Nancy exchanged a look. "Why don't you go to bed, Joe? Nan was just going to tell me what she found. I can fill you in in the morning."

It was a mark of how tired Joe was that he didn't even protest. He yawned hugely, nodded, and stood to go. "G'night, guys," he mumbled as he gathered his things.

"See you in the morning, Joe," Nancy said with a smile. She looked at Frank. "Sure you don't want to get some sleep, too?"

He shook his head. "No, tell me what you found out."

She shrugged, sitting more comfortably in her chair. "Admittedly, not a whole lot. But I did find Lori."

Frank sat up straighter. "Get out. Where was she?"

Nancy rolled her eyes. "Holed up in one of the end cars. She gave me this." She put a letter on the table and slid it toward him.

Frank took it, arching an eyebrow. "Where did she find this?"

"Inside the train, apparently."

"Right." Frank set the letter aside and looked up. "I've been less successful. All I did was listen to John Grey talk about whatever spirits he thinks are on this train." When Nancy raised her eyebrows in a clear expression of disbelief, Frank raised his hands as if in surrender. "I swear, Nancy, he told me he thinks Camille's spirit is haunting the train. He has his equipment all set up in her car and everything, hoping to 'capture her essence.'"

Nancy's face deadpanned. "You're joking."

"If only."

She shook her head. "You know, I don't know what I expected when you guys invited me on this case, but this was definitely not it."

Frank chuckled. "I get the feeling that nothing is ever what it seems with Lori Girard."

Nancy laughed, too. "Tell me about it. What a ridiculous stunt to pull! She said just wanted to see who could find her."

"Right. Wanted another tabloid headline, is more like."

"You said it."

They sat in silence for a while. Frank read the letter over again, just for something to do. Nancy seemed about ready to break the silence and say she was going to bed, but Frank didn't want her to go just yet. Which would explain the flash of masochism that occurred as he asked, "How's Ned?"

Nancy stared at him as if she had never seen anything quite like him before. "Ned?" She blinked, shook her head as if to clear it. "Oh, Ned's fine."

There was something in her voice that suggested otherwise, and Frank found himself feeling hopeful and then mad at himself for thinking that way. Ned was his friend. What on earth was he thinking? And Ned was, for lack of a better term, perfect. Frank's life was as dangerous and unpredictable as Nancy's. Nancy needed someone steady. Someone like Ned. Not someone who could be on a submarine next month on a secret mission for ATAC.

"He wanted to come," she said finally.

Frank looked at her. "I'm sorry?" he asked, not sure he had heard her right.

She rubbed the back of her neck and looked up at him. "He wanted to come," she repeated. "And I told him it would probably be best if he didn't do that. I told him it might be dangerous, and I know he doesn't like tabloids and with Lori on board we're bound to end up in one somehow…"

Frank knew there was more she wasn't saying. "But?" he asked.

"But," she conceded. She bit her lip and looked down at the table. "I kind of was afraid he would get in the way."

"Of the investigation?" Frank heard himself ask, then mentally kicked himself. Of course in the way of the investigation. What else was there to get in the way of?

Nancy looked up at him again. "Yes, of course."

Again Frank got the impression that there was something she wasn't saying. But he shouldn't be here anymore; he should go to bed. Nancy was still seeing Ned, and Ned was his friend. This wasn't right, and he knew it. The guilt sat in the pit of his stomach like a stone. He swallowed hard and began to gather up his things.

"Going to bed?" Nancy sounded startled by his abruptness, and maybe disappointed—but he might have imagined that. He probably had.

"Yeah, we'll need an early start tomorrow, I guess, so I should probably get some shuteye." He picked up the letter and ran his eyes over it one last time before handing it across the table to her. "Here. Don't want to forget this."

"No."

She reached up to take it from him and they both held onto it for a moment, looking at one another. Her eyes were so blue. Frank swallowed hard, forced himself to let go and look away. He made to slip behind her chair to leave the dining car, then a crazy impulse seized him and he pressed his lips to the top of her head. "Good night, Nan," he said, and made his way to the sleeping car.

Joe was snoring when Frank let himself into the room they were sharing. He dumped his thing son the floor and sat down on the end of his bed to unlace his shoes. He brushed his teeth and got dressed for bed and then found himself lying wide awake in the darkness, and Joe's snores were only partly to blame. He wasn't sure how long he'd been there, but it had been a good while before he heard the door to the sleeping car open again. He heard Nancy's footsteps pause outside his door for a moment, then continue down the car to her own. He heard her door open and close, and passed a hand over his face in the dark.

What an idiot you are, Frank.