VENTS

Melanie sat at the kitchen table staring at the door to the cabin.

She knew he would be getting back soon. It was nearly 7PM, which was his usual arrival time. Or as much of a 'usual arrival' time as he had.

She knew she would have to tell him then.

She wasn't looking forward to it. She had spent the entire day on the project. Her one day off that week. And THIS was how she had spent it. For the most part making herself miserable.

She had thought maybe she just wouldn't say anything. See if he figured it out on his own. After that he could decide for himself what he wanted to do.

The unhappy feeling came back.

Despite what he had said many times, she was sure he would leave. And that would leave her alone again.

She never thought she would have ever gotten use to living with someone. Even platonically. And it had taken time.

When he first started sharing the bed with her, literally on the same day they had started sharing the cabin, she had woken up several mornings in a row with a start, having completely forgotten he was there until she bumped into him.

And then the disagreements had started.

Waking up in the middle of the night, she would find herself having gathered one of the blankets up under her head because her pillows were all gone. Sitting up, she would glance over at his side of the bed. Sure enough, Layton was curled up on his side, a pillow under his head, one he was hugging tightly in his arms, another comfortably wedged between his knees, and the fourth one she often had trouble even locating.

At first she had to try to be civil about it. Very carefully, she would reach over and try and dislodge the pillow from his embrace. This usually elicited a low growl as he hugged it tighter. She then would try to locate the elusive fourth pillow, usually without much more luck. If she tried to take the one between his knees, he would grab it and quickly add it to the other one he was already hugging.

After several pillowless nights, eventually her solution became to simply reach over and grab the pillow under his head and dislodge it with one steady, firm pull. Before Layton was even aware enough to protest the rude awakening, she was happily curled up on her side again, pillow securely under her head.

Of course, he had his issues with her as well. More than a few times she had been woken up to the blankets ever so slowly being pulled back over to his side of the bed. Sometimes she would just ignore it and let him pull his share back over to his side of the bed. But occasionally, if she found she was missing any pillows, she would hold onto her stockpile of blankets and the bargaining session would begin.

And then there was his other night time habit. After just a few nights of sleeping with him, Melanie quickly learned that her new roommate had a propensity for talking in his sleep. And not just the usual, occasional mumblings. Layton had a habit of carrying on whole conversations for several minutes. And even though the conversations tended to be one sided, his nighttime dialogues were a good source of entertainment for her if she happened to be awake for them. Sometimes she attempted to join in, but he would utterly ignore any comments she made and continue on with his one sided talks.

But the thing she lamented that she would miss the most was their 'pillow talk'. That time of night right before they went to sleep when they would sit up and just talk. Sometimes it was just a continuation of whatever they had talked about over dinner. Or sometimes it was a totally new topic. And other times they just talked.

Once it had been about what they missed the most about the world before the freeze.

"Cut grass." Melanie had offered. "I miss the smell of fresh cut grass."

Layton vaguely waved a hand towards the cabin door. "Go stand in one of the pasture cars. Same thing."

Melanie gave his shoulder a good natured, light shove. "That's not even close." She stated. "Don't you even know what fresh cut grass smells like?"

Layton turned to her. "I spent a lot of my time in the inner city of Chicago, Melanie. The only kind of grass I was familiar with wasn't the kind you mowed."

"So what do you miss?" She asked.

Layton leaned back against the headboard and thought for a long while.

"Well?"

Layton sighed as he looked down. "I guess...all of it."

"All of it?"

"Yeah. I miss waking up to an utterly mindnumbingly normal day. Getting dressed, kissing my wife goodbye, going to the precinct, interrogating some dirt bag for six straight hours, learning at least five new adjectives for 'black, male detective', and finally going back home to a beautiful woman who couldn't boil water without screwing it up." He turned to her with a slight smile. "I miss all of that."

Melanie stared back at him for a few moments. "You're life was just magical." She finally stated flatly.

"Maybe." He replied. "But it was MY life. Not one that was forced on me. You think seven years ago I woke up one morning and thought, 'You know what? In seven years I think I'll be the leader of a train, plowing it's way through endless snow drifts, having pointless arguments with everyone on said train, and at night curl up in bed with a sleeping brick. Yeah. That'll be a nice change.'"

Melanie kept her stare on him. "I am not a brick."

"I said 'a sleeping brick'."

Melanie sighed loudly. She would definitely miss having him there.

Just before 7PM, Layton dragged himself through the door to the cabin. Utterly exhausted, he collapsed on the sofa next to her.

"Hey." She greeted him, mustering a smile even as she imagined kissing her 6' 2" talking bed warmer goodbye. "Long day?" She asked as he sat with his head leaned over the back of the sofa.

"Which one's aren't?" Came the tired reply.

"You want something to eat?"

Layton shook his head slightly. "All I want is sleep. And lots of it. Like a week's worth. If you can put that on a plate, I'll eat it."

Melanie smiled slightly again. "I can give you eight hours of sleep, but no plate."

Layton heaved himself off the sofa and headed right for the bedroom. "Sold!"

Melanie almost backed out, but abruptly stopped herself. 'Get it over with.' She sternly told herself.

"Ummm..., Layton?"

Layton stopped just short of the hallway and turned back to her. It wasn't until then that he actually took notice of just how nervous she looked.

Slowly he turned back to her. "Something up?" He asked cautiously.

'OK. This is it.' She told herself. 'Just tell him.'

Melanie took a deep breath.

"No. Nothing's up." She answered him. "I just wanted to tell you...Ifinishedhookinguptheventstoday." She managed in one rushed statement.

Layton stood for a few minutes, trying to sort out what she had just said, but his exhausted brain finally gave up.

"OK." He replied finally, holding a finger up. "I'm going to need that one more time. But this time slower...and in English."

Melanie sighed as she took a deep breath and tried not to sound so utterly fearful this time. "I said...I just wanted to tell you..." But she stopped suddenly, unable to finish the statement.

Layton stood still, staring at her for a few moments. "OK." He finally answered. "Got that part. It was the rest of it I needed translated."

Melanie sighed to herself this time. This was silly. She was a grown woman. She could face whatever decision he made. "I said," She repeated once more, slowing her words down considerably, "I finished hooking up the vents today. To the rest of the cabin."

Layton stood for a moment, letting his sleep deprived brain make sense of what she just said.

"Oh." He finally replied quietly. "OK."

"So...," she said, "if you wanted to sleep out here tonight...on the sofa...it'll be warmer now. The...the sofa...it collapses to lay flat, so it's actually pretty big. And...and you could have a bed to yourself...for a change."

Layton paused for a few moments before getting his legs to walk him back over to the sofa. Sitting down next to her again he regarded her past a questioning stare.

"Are you 'asking me'..." he finally said, "...or 'telling me'?"

Melanie paused briefly as she met his stare. "Asking." She barely whispered back.

With a look of relief, Layton favored her with a small smile. "So..., you're 'asking me' if I want to give up that soft, cozy, fluffy little warm nirvana in the bedroom to sleep on a sofa?"

Melanie paused again, then nodded.

Layton stared back at her. "I've never tried to push my way into your bed, Melanie."

"I know that."

"And I promised you the bed was yours and yours alone." He added. "And you alone decide who sleeps there. Except for yours and Knox's little pajama parties." He quickly reminded her with another small smile. "We have rules about that sort of activity."

Melanie gave a small laugh as she met his stare, the concern still in her eyes. "I'm not throwing you out, Layton. I just thought you would prefer...sleeping alone...in your own bed for a change."

Layton pretended to consider the offer for a minute. "Well," he finally said, "it's a thought. I mean, my current bed partner does snore like a train horn..."

"I don't snore."

"I'll record you one night."

Melanie pulled herself up a little on the sofa. "Well, you steal pillows." She countered quickly.

"You hog the blankets."

"You take up 2/3rds of the bed."

"And you're a sleeping brick." Layton paused for a moment, then gave her warm smile. "And there's no place else on this whole train I'd rather sleep." he added.

Melanie quickly returned his smile as she nodded towards the bedroom. "Then get to bed, Mr. Layton. Because you look like you could use those eight hours."

"Shower first." He sighed, pulling himself to his feet again. "I really need a shower first."

Melanie watched him drag himself off to the bathroom with a slightly amused smile. After she heard the water come on, she decided she might as well head off to bed herself.

She was already settled in and facing her side when he came in.

"Ahhh..., there you are, my beauty." She heard her roommate proclaim in a soft, enduring whispered voice as he walked into the room. "My whole reason for existing. So soft. So warm. So inviting. Every single day, from the moment I leave this cabin, you are the only thing I think about. Just...getting back to your warm embrace."

Slowly Melanie rolled over to face him. "You're talking to the bed, aren't you." She stated.

Layton managed a genuinely questioning look. "Who else would I be talking to?"

Melanie gave a soft laugh as she rolled back over in the bed, readjusting herself under the covers. She waited until she felt him crawl in on his side and settle himself under the covers as well with a tranquil sigh.

"Goodnight, Layton." She finally said, echoing his contented sigh as she settled in to sleep.

"Goodnight, Melanie."