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The Night of the Tremulous Trip
A Wild Wild West story
by Deana

This story takes place after the pilot episode, 'The Night of the Inferno'.

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Artie set down his empty champagne glass and leaned back on the couch with a yawn. Lydia Monteran had just left the train, and Jim had gone with her: probably to give her one last goodbye kiss. He looked at the clock before closing his eyes. It was eleven, and he was tired after the dangerous events of the day. He raised a hand to touch the left side of his head near his eye, where a bullet had grazed him. It was shocking to see how close he'd come to being shot in the head, and he sighed as he pulled his hand away and looked at his fingers to make sure that it wasn't still bleeding.

The door suddenly opened, and Artie quickly lowered his hand. "Well, James my boy," he said. "How do you feel after our first successful mission for the president? Exhilarated?"

Jim saw Artie's action, and was relieved to not see any fresh blood. "That's the perfect word for it," he said, coming around the couch and sitting down next to him. "How about you?"

"The same…hence my choice of that word," Artie said, with a smile.

Jim smiled back, though it shook him up to see the bullet graze along his friend's temple. Another inch and things would have turned tragic. "How's your head?"

"Oh, it's fine," Artie said. In truth, it didn't hurt as much as it could…though all the champagne was adding to the pain. He yawned again.

"We've both definitely earned our sleep tonight," Jim said, standing.

"Umm humm," Artie mumbled, sleepily, eyes closed. "And on our own train, even."

Jim smiled and looked around. Their own private train…it was amazing.

Suddenly, the train's whistle blew and it started up. It took a couple of minutes to gain momentum, and soon, they were chugging along.

Artie almost fell asleep where he was, but he forced his eyes open and stood. They headed down the hall to their compartments. "'Night, Jim," Artie said.

"Goodnight," Jim replied.

Artie headed inside and quickly changed his clothes before eagerly climbing under the covers. The gentle swaying of the train didn't prevent him from falling asleep; he was out within minutes.

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Jim was an early riser and was up before Artie, sitting on the couch drinking coffee. He'd telegraphed the President to tell him that he and Artie had completed their mission, and Grant had been very pleased and amazed that they'd succeeded so quickly. He'd ended his telegram with, 'I knew that you were the right men for the job', and Jim knew that Artie would be thrilled to hear that. He looked at the clock, wondering when his friend planned to get up.

Artie woke when the train suddenly went around a corner. With a yawn, he remembered the events of the previous day and opened his eyes, looking around his compartment, still amazed that they were traveling the country in their own train! He quickly rose and tied his robe around himself before leaving the room and heading down the hall.

Jim looked up when Artie came in. "There you are."

Artie frowned. "What? 'There you are'? You say that as if it's late." He looked at the clock. "It's only 8."

Jim smiled. "You know what they say, 'early to bed, early to rise'."

"Not according to my great-aunt Maude," Artie replied. "According to her, there was no luxury greater than lying in bed in the morning until you want to get up!"

Jim chuckled, knowing that Artie didn't really have a 'great-aunt Maude'.

Artie poured himself a cup of coffee from the carafe on the table and brought it to the couch, sitting down beside his friend. He took a sip before saying, "Jim…I think I should be the one to make the coffee from now on."

Jim laughed. "Then you'd better get up earlier in the morning!"

Artie chuckled.

"I telegraphed Grant," Jim said.

Artie sipped his coffee again. "Did he answer yet?"

Jim nodded. "He said that he knew we were the right men for the job."

Artie smiled. He downed the rest of his coffee and slung his arm around his friend's shoulders. "That's right, James my boy!" he exclaimed. "And we're going to enjoy this new chapter of our lives!"

Jim smiled back, though he couldn't help but notice again the bullet graze along Artie's temple.

Artie was fully aware of the dangers himself, but when the president had offered him the job, he didn't hesitate, just as Jim hadn't. They'd both worked together under President Grant during the war, and knew each other as well as they knew themselves. They were an unbeatable team.

Artie stood and refilled his coffee cup. "More oil—I mean, coffee, Jim?"

Jim chuckled. "No thanks, I already had seconds."

Artie sipped his coffee as he headed over to the window and peeked out, watching the scenery fly by. "Did Grant give us another assignment yet?" he asked.

Jim shook his head. "No. I don't think he expected us to finish our first one so fast."

Artie turned around and leaned against the wall, nodding. "It went faster than I expected, too."

They were quiet for a few minutes, before Jim said, "How's your head feel?"

"Oh, fine, fine," Artie said, reaching a hand towards the cut. "It only hurts when I touch it."

"Then don't touch it," Jim told him.

Artie chuckled, before putting his cup on the table and heading back to his compartment to get dressed.

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Jim and Artie spent the day talking, catching each other up on what had gone on in their lives since they'd seen each other last. The hours flew by, and before they knew it, it was suppertime.

Artie, who enjoyed cooking, made baked chicken.

"This is delicious," Jim told him.

"Of course it is," Artie joked. "My great-aunt Maude's special recipe."

Jim laughed.

"Speaking of that dear old lady," said Artie. "I think we should use her as a secret code."

Jim looked at him. "Secret code?"

Artie nodded as he chewed. "Say we get caught in the middle of a dangerous situation and one of us comes up with a spectacular idea. When one of us mentions 'Aunt Maude', the other will know that he's about to do something and to be ready."

Jim chewed thoughtfully, trying to figure out how it would work. It sounded pretty strange.

"Say some arch enemy is taunting us," Artie said. He then changed his voice to sound like some evil villain. "You two thought that you could outwit me? Haha, you failed, you fools, and now you die!" He then changed his voice to do a pretty good impression of Jim. "Artie's great-aunt Maude might have something to say about that." Artie then went back to his normal voice. "And then: wham! We both pull out some scientific gadgets—or hidden guns—and that's the end of Mr. Enemy!"

Jim's expression went from surprise to humor, and he couldn't help but laugh. "You should've stayed on the stage. I didn't know that you could imitate my voice so well."

Artie smiled, with a shrug. "My acting career was loads of fun, but now, that skill will help us on our missions. I can wear disguises and become anyone."

Jim nodded. Artie was definitely right about that.

The rest of the evening passed quickly, and suddenly, the clock was striking ten.

"I think I'll go to bed and read," Artie said.

Jim nodded. "All right. 'Night, Artie."

Both agents stood, and in that moment, two things happened: the train suddenly swayed as it hit a hard corner, and Artie reeled backwards.

Jim didn't even think; he lunged forward and grabbed him before he could fall and hurt himself. "What happened?!" he exclaimed.

Artie's head was spinning. "What?" he said, confused. "You didn't feel that?"

Of course Jim had, but it hadn't been strong enough to send him off-balance…he couldn't understand how it had done that to his friend. "I felt it, but it didn't seem that bad to me. Are you feeling all right?"

Artie nodded, which made his head spin even worse. "I'm fine," he lied.

Jim frowned. "What about your head?"

Artie reached up to touch the wound. "It's superficial, just a graze to the skin. It didn't cause a concussion, if that's what you're asking." He sighed, wishing his brain would stay still. "I'm fine…I guess that turn just really caught me off guard, that's all."

Jim shrugged. What other explanation could there be? "All right," he said, reluctantly letting go of him.

Artie gave Jim an encouraging smile and they turned to head to their compartments.

Artie used all of his willpower to make it there without trouble—so Jim would think that he was fine—and managed to succeed. Once inside, he sat on his bed and took a deep breath, and the dizziness lessened. Relieved, he sat there for another minute before he rose to change his clothes, but the dizziness returned. By the time he got into bed, he'd changed his mind about reading…

TBC