Title: Riding Trains

Summary: It's over. Kagome Higurashi lost everything she ever cared about. Returning to the future, she rides the trains every Sunday, searching to fill the emptiness inside her. And she finds something in the golden eyes of a familiar stranger.

Pairing: Inuyasha/Kagome

Genre: Romance

Rating: PG-13

Content: Images of violence, nothing more.

ACC: Anticipated Chapter Count is at 20.

Note: This is the result of me falling in love with InuYasha all over again. I hope you enjoy. Very much inspired by Forthright's Unexpected which is a fabulous story, as everyone knows, told in snippets and snapshots between the best pairing in the series.

Legal Disclaimer: Don't own it. Belongs to Rumiko Takahashi, you know the drill.

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It was on a Sunday in November, present day, present time, when Kagome Higurashi boarded the B-Line. Because of the early hour, there were very few people about and even less on her transport. She easily found a place to sit in a nearly-empty car and positioned herself in the most comfortable way possible for the trip. It wasn't that she was going anywhere in particular; it was just that she was going somewhere and that was enough at the moment. Across from her, a man sat reading. Close to the exit, a young girl with a piercing through her lower lip texted on her phone. At the very front, Kagome saw another man breezing through a tattered newspaper.

It was quiet and she was grateful. Too many things had created such noise in her mind that she needed the peace. Even the rumbling of the train down the tracks didn't bother her. She found it comforting, almost like a lullaby, as she sped away into the gray morning. Tokyo passed by in a blur of color and movement. Crowded, busy streets streamed by outside the window: ever-moving, never-sleeping Tokyo. It was the place where she had grown up and lived the better part of her life. She knew it had everything anyone could ever want, because it was a booming capital city, after all. But it didn't have what she wanted.

Nothing would ever have what she wanted.

Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she stared out the window, trying not to let her mind wander. She knew what would happen if it did and Kagome didn't think she could bear it again. It was bad enough that her sleep was plagued with memories; her daylight hours didn't need that darkness as well. But as the train moved through Tokyo's downtown and people got on or stepped off, Kagome could not stop that feeling from taking hold of her. Everyone was moving, going places, continuing onwards with their lives when hers had ended. It seemed unfair, almost mocking to her pain. They didn't know and they would never know what she had lost that day.

They would never care.

She gripped at her upper arms to keep from going back, not wanting to think about them. The dark-haired girl tried to push the images away: Shippou's light, cheerful laugh; Miroku's lecherous, grinning face still smiling despite the red handprint upon his cheek; Sango's indignant expression at the monk's cursed hand, but with affection shining strongly in her eyes; Kirara's loving purr against her cheek; Kaede's helpful, wrinkled hands. The last, Kagome willed herself not to think about. It made her heart clench up painfully tight, so tight that she couldn't breathe. She couldn't think about InuYasha.

She couldn't.

Tokyo passed by, the city melting into suburbs. Telephone wires black and webbed against the solemn sky. Inside, the lights flickered on to give passengers more illumination. It only served Kagome ill, as she could see her reflection more clearly in the glass. Sad eyes, worried brow, the frown that pulled at her lips unlike her usually chipper disposition. She sighed and did not wonder about the last time she had smiled with such carefree abandon, because she knew when it was. And that was when InuYasha was still alive.

Her tongue tasted bitter with memory.

The day dragged on until finally the clouds grew darker and night began to settle in, reminding Kagome that it was time for her to return home soon. After…everything that had happened, her mother wanted her close. Kagome didn't have the heart to tell her that staying at the shrine was the worst medicine: too confining and reminiscent of the past. Walking past that well everyday was just a painful reminder of what she had lost. Passing by the Goshinbuku every morning was just one more jab to her already open, bleeding wounds. It brought to mind that day and she could barely stand, hit so hard with the realization of what it meant. Now, she knew there was nothing for her. There were no strong arms to hold her when she cried. No voice of comfort, a warm weight against her shoulder at night.

There was nothing except emptiness.

At the next station, Kagome got off and waited for the return train to bring her back to Tokyo. She stood huddled against the cold on the platform, her fingers numb and biting with chill. Although she could have gone inside, Kagome remained standing where she was. Her legs froze through her thin tights, but she stood with steadfast determination. The platform was empty, except for a dark-haired man who sat on a nearby bench. He did not look at her and she did not look at him. She wondered if he was punishing himself too.

The train finally came to a screeching halt in front of her. With a soft sigh, the doors opened and Kagome stepped into the warmth, dully looking for a place to sit. There were more people this time around, but she was still able to find a seat. The man from the platform sat across from her, his long legs stretching out into the aisle between them. She didn't look at him or anyone else in the car, staring at his shoes instead. They were different from one another, which was strange. One was red, the other black. Converse, with the edges peeling and laces frayed. Somehow, they remained as one, despite being two odd players in a game of matching pairs. Soon, more shoes joined the fray as the train made more frequent stops closer to the city. Some were shiny, others merely bright with neon colors. Some high-heeled, others male dress shoes, a few sneakers. There was a heavy scent of cologne, laundry detergent, cat food, and yakiniku. A soft murmur rose up from the many people as they spoke, to one another or on their cell phones. Everyone had someone, it seemed. Every shoe had its match, its pair, like every person had their person.

But what happened if one of them died? Kagome wondered. Was the other left without its match? What would the other do? Could it live without its partner? Instead of thinking about InuYasha, she tried to focus on something else, but everything brought up the same emotion of loss inside of her. Then, she thought about the man with the two mismatched shoes and wondered why she wanted to cry.

Eyes hot, she turned away and looked out the window. Not focusing on reflections, she stared at the city, the lights, the cars, everyone once again moving, moving forward without knowing what she had so unfairly lost. They did not know that their world was the way it was because of her. Because of him. Because of all of them. They didn't know and she wanted to scream at them, leading their content, boring lives. They didn't know what it meant: that their happiness was only possible because of her sadness and because of their sacrifice. They didn't know.

And they never, ever would.

She rubbed at her eyes, keeping her focus on the window instead of the people clustered around her, talking and laughing with their pairs and their shoes and all the stupid matches that they took for granted. She just continued to look into the night, past the face in the glass that was hers. Past the reflections in the glass that were theirs. But one face caught her attention and held it for the longest time.

InuYasha…her lips moved, the name silently spoken in the crowded compartment. She blinked and looked away, expecting his face to be gone, but when she glanced up again, it was still there. It was the dark-haired man from before, she realized, but instead of him staring down, he was looking up and elsewhere, standing in the middle of the aisle with his hand above his head, holding onto the hand clutch for balance. Kagome could not believe what she saw in the yellowed image: it was InuYasha's nose, his cheeks, jaw, brow, everything. Tilting her head slightly to observe him, she realized that the man even had the same length to his hair. She had to be imagining him, Kagome told herself, unable to move her eyes away from his figure that was so close, yet so far from her. And she wasn't sure if it was the light in the cabin, but his eyes were…the warmest shade of amber like his had been.

He must have caught her staring, because he turned his head slightly to look at her. She flushed when she came to the realization that she had been very openly gazing at him. But he didn't seem to be bothered by this and managed to give her the smallest of smiles before Kagome hastily looked down. His mismatched shoes reminded her of why she had taken to the window in the first place. So, she went back to the glass and watched as his reflection turned away from her again to look at whatever it was he had been observing before, almost disinterested. Her heart pounded stupidly fast in her chest as she watched him the entire way back to Tokyo. There was no way, no possible way that this could be happening. InuYasha was dead, she told herself, heart slowing with heavy despair. He had died in her arms protecting her. He was dead and there was no bringing him back. She was projecting her feelings on someone who she had never met before. It wasn't real.

None of it was real.

When the train arrived at her station, she left out of one door and he another. It was busy, loud, voices echoing against aluminum ceilings. He was going East, and she, West. It was a one-time thing, their meeting, she knew. It was doubtful she would ever see him again. But that didn't stop her from watching him walk away, wondering if it was possible for InuYasha's soul to find hers. If Kikyou had been reincarnated, what about him? InuYasha had said to her with his last breath I'll find you again, Kagome. I promise.

She could not force her legs to walk West when his went East and she stood there for the longest time, staring after him in the crowd. At one point, she could have sworn he looked back at her, but it had to have been her imagination. After all, the slight silver shimmer to his hair had been all in her mind's eye, hadn't it?

And once he was gone, she walked West alone.

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Word count: 1,778