Present Day

The Burrough train station was hardly crowded at such a late hour, which made Reynie feel even more conspicuous. He was only 10 minutes early for his departure, but each minute he spent shifting awkwardly on the bench waiting felt like an hour. Mrs. Lowry's words had unnerved him, and he fought the urge to twist his neck and check behind him every few seconds. To calm himself, he practiced an old observation game he would play with the Society, even before Curtain's triumph.

Reynie looked around at the people on the platform. A police woman stood in the back corner, her eyes dangerously close to shutting. There was a gentleman in a long gray coat, an elderly couple huddling together, and a young woman, among several others. He zoned in on the young woman, who was leaning against a brick pillar.

What's her story? he heard Sticky ask.

"She has a small suitcase, so she's probably not leaving for good."

Or she just doesn't own much, Reynard, Constance reprimanded

"Her eyes are red and puffy. She's been crying,"

Why? Why is she crying? Kate asked.

"Um, maybe she's sick?"

Elaborate on that, Sticky pushed

"Well she's wearing a long coat, and underneath it a sweater. It's a warm night, so she might have chills."

You're missing something, Constance groaned, exasperated.

Reynie frowned. He looked the woman up and down, checking and double checking, when it hit him.

"There's no ring," The woman's right ring finger had a thick tan line, indicative of a ring. But she wore none. "But, what does that mean?" Reynie wondered to himself.

Just put the pieces together

Is she wearing long clothes because she's sick or because she's hiding something?

Is her suitcase small because she doesn't own much or because she can't take much with her?

Why is she not wearing her wedding ring?

Where is her partner?

Why is she taking a train so late at night? Does her partner know?

Why is she crying, Reynie?

Why?

"I…I don't know…" he admitted.

"You do, Reynie. You do," And his eyes flew open, for Kate's voice sounded so real. He was sure she had to be standing right in front of him, this was something he couldn't imagine. But there was no one. No one except the man in the long gray coat and the elderly couple and the woman leaning on the brick pillar. The man looked at him curiously, but glanced away when Reynie caught him staring.

Reynie shakily got to his feet and walked over to the woman. As he approached, she looked up at him, large eyes sad and afraid.

"You need help." It wasn't a question.

The woman stared at him, confused. "What?" her voice was barely louder than a whisper.

"You need to get out of town, don't you?"

"Well, I am at the train station, aren't I?" the woman tried to laugh, but it came out strangled and hollow.

Reynie cast his gaze to her hand. "It's a husband or a wife?"

The woman stammered, "Sir, I really-"

"Husband or wife?"

The woman paused. "Neither, er, both, sometimes" she admitted, "A spouse."

"Right, apologies."

"Don't apologize to them. Even if they're not here," For the first time since their conversation began, Reynie noticed anger in the woman's voice. She seethed in silence for a minute, and when the anger dissipated, it was replaced with tears brewing fresh in her eyes.

"They drank. A lot. And they said they'd get better and they never did and I tried so hard," She swallowed down a sob before continuing, "I tried so hard to help and I told myself they're worth it. But they weren't. And I know that now. My only regret is that I wish I'd known it soon-" A fresh round of tears shook the woman, and she could speak no more.

Reynie fumbled in his bag for a tissue, but only found a napkin left over from some lunch he'd eaten many weeks before. He considered embracing the woman, but felt it would be inappropriate so he simply placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, waiting with the napkin should she need it. Some of the pedestrians on the platform took notice, but the police woman had fallen asleep in her corner. Reynie gave them a reassuring smile as he guided the woman to a less crowded, side hallway. When the woman had finally settled, she gratefully took the napkin from him, wiping the tears first, and then blowing out her nose.

"Do you have money?" Reynie asked.

"Yes," she said, "I sold my ring, and it got me a fair amount. It was a nice ring," she sighed, remembering, "They were good at giving gifts. Always knew exactly what to buy, and didn't mind if it was expensive. They would give the world to me." She grasped her right hand, fingering the shadow of a ring that was no longer there.

"That doesn't excuse whatever they did,"

"No. It doesn't,"

"Where are you going?"

"Rewchast. I have family there," Reynie nodded, and knelt on the ground, undoing the latches on his satchel. As he flipped through pages of the file, he continued to speak to the woman.

"Does your spouse know where you're going?"

"They don't even know I'm leaving. Though I suppose they could figure out where I've gone. We visited my parents' home for Christmas dinner one year. Do you think they'll come after me?"

"You would know them better than I do,"

Reynie found the page he'd been looking for and copied down an address. He closed the file and tucked it back into his satchel.

"Here," he handed the woman the address. "If things ever go bad, take your family here. I have an associate there and they can help you. Just tell them Reynie sent you." The woman took the address and nodded, paused, and then looked up at him with wide eyes, as if seeing him for the first time.

"You- you're…"

"Reynie Muldoon-Perumal, yes, you've probably seen my face around. I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone."

"But..but," the woman stammered. She looked down at the address, biting her lip in contemplation. Then she nodded. "I won't tell a soul."

Reynie smiled. "Thank you,"

"No, thank you."

Suddenly, Reynie heard the loud rattle of train wheels on tracks. "Ah, that would be my ride. I wish you the best of luck Miss…"

"Risker, Elena Risker."

Reynie paused, and looked back at her. "Risker huh? Very well. Good luck, Miss Risker."

And with that, he adjusted the straps of his bag and made his way to the train.

Federal regulation stated that no passenger could move about while the train was in motion, for security reasons Reynie felt were arbitrary. He'd found that many of Curtain's laws existed simply because they could exist. In any case, it just gave the police one more reason to arrest civilians. The previous stop had been more than 150 miles from Burrough, and the passengers that weren't leaving the train were still eager to stand and stretch their cramped limbs. Some retrieved snacks or magazines from their bags they'd stashed in overhead compartments, and others pushed their way to the lavatory at the rear of the train car. In short, Reynie was having a difficult time making his way to an open seat. He bumped elbows with passengers, muttering "Excuse me" and "Please pardon,". He was halfway down the car and yet to see an open seat, when something heavy fell on him.

"Oh, my apologies!" He heard a man's voice say. "It appears my suitcase isn't as properly secured as I thought it was."

"That's alright," Reynie rubbed the back of his head, "It only just nicked me."

"Here son, your hat," The man held the cap out to him, and Reynie met his eye. It was the man in the long, gray coat. He quickly snatched the hat and tugged it on.

"Thank you," Had the man recognized him?

"Here, why don't you sit with me," the man took Reynie by his arm and pulled him into the booth. "You're so small you'll get washed away in this crowd,"

Reynie had always been of average build, but he supposed anyone would look small compared to the man across from him. He was tall and fat, with a salt-and-pepper beard. His skin was a warm brown, and a thin pair of reading glasses rested on his nose. His jovial smile, and perhaps his whole appearance, reminded Reynie very much of Santa Claus.

"What is your name?" He asked.

"Eric," Reynie lied, retaining his alias from Burrough.

"A fine name. You may call me Chandu."

"It's a pleasure to meet you,"

The man smiled. "And you, as well. I saw you at the train station with that woman. Is she family?" The shift from greeting to interrogation was subtle, but Reynie noticed. The smile left the man's eyes, and instead became calculating and hungry.

"No, I'd only just met her,"

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow. "I hadn't gotten that impression at all. Tell me, what was she so upset about?"

With steely determination, Reynie answered, "I don't believe you need to know,"

The man's smile disappeared for a slight moment, replaced with a frustrated frown. But then he remembered his composure and gave a hearty laugh that startled the passengers sitting behind them.

"Ohoho, you're quite right. I suppose it's none of my business, but I just couldn't help but notice the poor woman. I hope you don't think badly of me for it, for I am merely in tune with the pain of others. It hurts me terribly to see a distressed soul," He placed a hand over his heart and stared off solemnly, as if even now he still felt Miss. Risker's pain.

"I'm sure it does," Reynie remarked.

The train jolted to life, cutting the tension. There was no clamoring crowd to be heard outside the windows, calling final goodbyes to loved ones. Everything about the night was still and quiet. Reynie glanced around the train car and saw no open seats, though he already knew that to excuse himself would be suspicious.

Chandu pulled out a cloth drawstring bag, and began rustling through it. After a great dealing of groping about, he finally pulled out a metal thermos. When he opened its lid, steam poured out.

"Soup," he said to Reynie, pulling a spoon out from within his coat. "Where are you getting off?"

"Trippoli,"

Chandu laughed. "Ah, isn't everyone?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Chandu raised an eyebrow. "Why, that's where the World Tetherball Championship is being held. Didn't you know?"

Reynie had forgotten. The World Tetherball Championship was one of the few remnants of life before the Improvement. Each year, Mr. Benedict's would be filled with guests and friends, all gathered for a large viewing party and dinner, courtesy of Moocho. Reynie hadn't ever grown a taste for T.V, even after the destruction of the Whisperer. Yet, he always looked forward to sitting on the couch, surrounded by friends, and politely clapping whenever a player scored. (Kate would be much more enthusiastic; pumping her fists and doing a victory dance). There was one year after the Improvement that Reynie decided to watch, if only to recapture the good memories. But everything had felt wrong, watching it alone, and he never turned it on again.

"I guess I don't really keep up with sports," Reynie told him.

"Ah, yes. There are much more important things in life," Reynie opened his mouth to protest, but Chandu continued, not noticing. "Though, if I may ask, if you're not going for the Championship, why are you visiting Trippoli?"

"Well, you're asking quite a few questions, aren't you?" Reynie laughed to disguise his accusation, but Chandu was not amused.

"I'm only trying to make conversation," He wouldn't look at Reynie, his eyes instead focused on slowly stirring his soup. "After all, you're a very curious passenger. No luggage, reticent nature, and I swear I've seen you before." He looked up now, studying Reynie's face.

"Burrough is a small town. I'm sure we've run into each other at some point,"

"Perhaps," the man pursed his lips in thought. "In any case, one would assume you're the type to have secrets,"

"Well you should never assume. I don't have any secrets" Reynie told him. "I have family in Trippoli, and there's been an emergency; that's why I'm traveling,"

"And is this all you're bringing with you?" The man laid a hand on the satchel, which sat on the table between them. Reynie fought the instinct to jerk it out of his grasp.

"They will have accommodations enough for me. I don't intend to stay long,"

The man fingered the latch on the bag, and Reynie held his breath. But Chandu did not open it, and instead leaned back, smiling once again.

"Well, I do hope everything turns out okay."

"Thank you."

Chandu nodded and began to spoon soup into his mouth.

The two of them did not speak for the rest of the trip. Reynie tried to relax, even get some rest as the scenery flew by, but his heart was beating at double speed. Chandu, however, seemed perfectly calm. After he'd finished his late dinner, he'd pulled out a book and flipped through the pages slowly. Occasionally he would laugh to himself, though what was so funny Reynie could not discern. He'd read Chandu's book himself a long time ago, and it was a tragic story, devoid of anything comedic.

An hour in, Reynie noticed a headache had snuck upon him. "But I already had my tea," he murmured to himself. He already knew the headache was not Whisperer-induced, but rather the culmination of stress and lack of sleep. He leaned against the cool window, trying to ignore the throbbing. But the more he tried to fall asleep, the more awake he felt. He briefly wondered if Number Two had ever felt like this. He wished he could ask her. But alas, she was not here. She was far, far away and Reynie doubted he'd be seeing her anytime soon.

He closed his eyes and felt the rumble of the train as it snaked through the night. He heard the hushed whispers of a little girl asking "How much longer?" and the mother's quiet reply, "Not much,". In his mind's eye, he could see Chandu sitting across from him, turning pages rhythmically. The smell of old carpet and polished wood was thick around him; soothing like a drug, lulling him to sleep. His satchel was clutched tightly in his arms, protecting it from greedy, outstretched hands. The last thing Reynie heard before he fell asleep was the soft click of a phone being flipped open and Chandu saying, "Hello? I have something to report." But before Reynie could think to do something about it, he'd fallen into a deep sleep.