Disclaimer: I do not own the 39 Clues or any of it's characters

A few hours later there was an ear-piercing screech of brakes and a whine from the engine. The train shook and groaned. I looked out the rain-streaked window and saw a great plume of gray smoke billowing into the sky at the right side of the train. I groaned. The stranger leaned towards me, trying to peer out the window and see what had caused many passengers to sigh and groan. A man's gruff voice came over the speaker. He announced that the train would not be fixed for some time, and we would have to walk the remaining distance to the station. It was very close, only about half a mile. There was a hotel attached to the station, and we were all welcome to spend the night, free of charge, complements of the train company. I thought, "So much for ignoring the world until the mansion."

Those aboard the train slowly exited and we all made the trek through the pouring rain to the hotel. By the time we finally entered the building, all were soaking wet, and found that the station and hotel alike were in a state of disarray. They appeared to be under repair, and were currently closed to visitors. There was scaffolding lining the walls with paint cans balanced precariously upon them. The floor tiles were partially uprooted and the lights created a dim glow, flickering sporadically. Buckets were strategically placed to catch the drops of water coming from many leaking ceiling tiles. There were puddles everywhere.

The train's passengers all filed into a line at the check-in-counter, or rather, where the counter should have been. Now, however, one small desk occupied the space with a shabby notebook and smudged bell sitting upon it. Behind the counter was a tired and irritated employee. He looked upset that he had just been woken up in the middle of the night to attend to visitors they were not prepared to accommodate. Throughout this entire trip to the hotel I couldn't help but notice that the stranger managed to stay nearby. All those years in the family business, a type of ruthless scavenger hunt with my stop-at-nothing cousins, made me aware of my surroundings. His eyes scanned the room flicking back to me every now and then. I was towards the end of line standing between a few other passengers and the stranger; we had all been sitting together at the back of the train when it broke down. The stranger placed his phone back into his pocket with a disgruntled look upon his face. I decided to call Dan, Nellie, and Fiske to let them know I was going to be later than we had originally planned. There wasn't any service. Great, now they will probably think something happened, I have never been late for a reunion before. As the line shuffled forward we passed under one of the flickering lights and I finally got my first good look at the mysterious man. He was dressed sharply in a black suit and tie, most likely on the way to or from a meeting. He had nice slicked back, jet black hair. He had a handsome face with a very pronounced jaw line. His most striking feature, oddly enough, were his soft eyes. They seemed to be out of place on his face among the jagged cheek bones, defined chin, and sharp nose. His eyes were caramel colored and seemed welcoming and caring. They were aged. I couldn't help but feel as if I could read his life in those seemingly endless circles, if only I had the time. The tale I got a glimpse at showed that he had gradually softened over time and may not have always been as warm. I saw that he had loved and lost on countless occasions, and that he had triumphed as well as suffered. His eyes held knowledge and were inviting, yet hypnotizing. They ebbed and flowed with the tide, drawing me in, yet rooting me in place.

I missed my family more than I ever imagined possible and longed to be home. I couldn't wait to embrace each and every one of them. Feeling lonely and with a deep longing to be with them once again, I dug a small photo out of the pocket of my carry-on. I stared at if for a long time and seemed to forget about my shabby surroundings as I remembered a day that felt like a lifetime ago. The picture was small and simple. It was a 4" x 6" of Dan and I. We were at the top of a high mountain and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. We both wore tank-tops and had backpacks strapped onto our shoulders. I had wrapped my arm around him and we were smiling. At the time he had protested, and jokingly shoved her away. Nellie had taken it on the last day of their hiking trip shortly after they completed the hunt for the thirty-nine clues. She had told us, "You're young, your spirits are high, you have achieved the impossible. Kiddos, you managed to acquire the title Kings of the world, and you're standing on top of it." Shortly after this inspirational statement Dan had mentioned the top of the world was Mount Everest, and there wasn't enough gold in the world to make him go up there ever again. We had stood there and laughed for what felt like hours. If I had to pick a favorite memory that would be it.

The stranger was studying me quite intently now. He watched as I carefully pull the photo from among my things and unfolded it. The image caught him by surprise. He quickly wiped away the puzzled look upon his face, appalled at his lack of control over his own emotions. The line began to move forward as both the stranger and I were frozen in place, eyes intent on the photo. The stranger was jostled into me. I dropped my photo into one of the puddles accumulating on the floor. Apparently, the hotel had more leaks than buckets. The stranger picked up the picture and gingerly brushed away the water and dirt. I held her hand out for the photo, a blush rising almost imperceptibly upon my cheeks. I managed to mumble a barely audible "thank-you" without meeting the stranger's eyes.

Instead of handing me the photo I watched as the man's grip tighten upon it. I finally managed to look up confused. He looked lethal. A perfect combination of calm and angry. His eyes were no longer welcoming. Not a trace of the warmth could be found, I began to doubt that I had seen warmth residing in them in the first place. It could have been a trick of the dim lighting. His eyes bored into mine, sharp and piercing as daggers.

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