A/N: We're back with yet another Fair Game fic. I've developed this weird attachment to these two. Let me know what you think of this first chapter!

Way Off Track

First Look

The train system in Vale really, really needed an upgrade.

Despite the fresh coat of paint on each carriage, the new olive-green logo for the Vale Transport System did little to spruce up the general atmosphere of the subway system. The station was still filled with far too many bodies at 7:30AM, more unwashed than anyone would like to truly notice. The scent of urine wafted out from the hidey-holes around the station, a clear, unsettling reminder of the city's homeless population. Advertisement banners on the walls were vandalized within days of going up, so there was no point in even trying to read them.

Clover didn't mind any of these things. The little eccentricities of Vale, he had always thought- the city at the heart of Sanus was so different from his home in Atlas, where the streets had been kept clean and the citizens had all been hardworking and well kempt. While at first, it had been jarring to see the obvious poverty and the sheer amount of people constantly bustling in and about the city, Clover had quickly gotten used to his own routine, compartmentalizing his disgust and stowing it away.

After all, as long as the pay was good and he was earning solid experience, it didn't really matter where his work situated him, right? The commute was only temporary- soon, he would save up enough money to buy himself a place closer to the office, and then he could kiss the filthy subway system goodbye.

"The next train to arrive will be going to Vale- Downtown," the speakers announced, the woman's voice rattling off the time and the remaining stops on the line. "All passengers, please wait behind the yellow line."

Obediently, Clover took his place near the edge of the platform, shifting his work bag over his shoulder and tucking his hands into his pockets. Right on time.

Still, as his eye caught sight of the same, long-since vandalized poster advertising his company's services tucked into the left side of his usual platform, his mind couldn't help but ponder the possibilities. Software had never really been his passion. Sales, on the other hand, came second nature to Clover. The position as the general manager for the Vale branch of Atlas Security Technologies was a lucrative one for sure, but what else could he apply his experience to? It wasn't as if he truly had a passion for software security; that was his team's job, not his. No, his job was to make sure projects stayed on task and that the clients were happy.

And he was good at it. What else did he need?

As the wind began to pick up in the tunnel, the air currents from the approaching subway lifting an errant newspaper off the ground and dragging it across a damp tiled floor, Clover simply reached into his pocket and pulled out a small set of earbuds. Even the small movement made him wince. Maybe I went overboard yesterday at the gym after all. He had been sore all evening the night before, but he had ignored it- perhaps it would be prudent to take some painkillers once he arrived at the office.

Still, that would be nearly an hour away. He had just downloaded the latest episode of a new podcast his boss and some coworkers had recommended. He didn't know if it would be any good, but James Ironwood and his team were all good at what they did, so perhaps their recommendations would ring true, too. Either way, it was something to fill the doldrums of the journey.

The train rolled into the station. It was empty as usual- Clover's apartment was right by the start of the line, so he always got his pick of seats. The one he chose was always the same, just a singular seat tucked into the back corner of the first carriage. The windowsill beside it gave him somewhere to prop up his work bag, so he tended to sit there each morning.

That day was no different. Clover yawned as a soothing woman's voice filtered into his ears, spewing something about motivation and understanding his true goals.

What are my true goals? The question seemed so banal. He already knew what he wanted to do- buy a better apartment closer to the office. Make sure his team secured their upcoming contracts for which they were halfway through negotiating. Impress James enough into potentially getting that raise he'd been eyeing.

That was enough. It was dull, true- but it was enough.

The second stop rolled by. The third, then the fourth. People came and went, shoving each other on the subway as they tried to pack into the carriage as best as they could.

And then, a tired groan filtered through the air, a figure holding onto the railing right beside Clover's seat.

Normally, Clover wouldn't mind. His office was located off the twelfth stop, so he was more than used to ignoring the other passengers he saw along the way. However, this newcomer somehow managed to stand close enough so that even while looking straight ahead, a formfitting grey blazer was still within view, a leather belt hugging scrawny hips and lanky legs in dark, rumpled slacks.

Clover frowned in distaste. Who was standing this close? He glanced up, taken aback slightly as he saw a surprisingly-handsome face half-asleep above him. The man in the blazer had grabbed onto one of the olive green railings, clinging on with some half-baked fierceness while his eyes were closed. Thick brows were furrowed, a bitter grimace twisting a wide mouth. Despite the clear sallowness of his skin and the bags under the man's eyes that seemed to signal a hangover more than any illness, the man was still quite attractive, sporting dark hair streaked lightly with grey and a light dusting of stubble on his chin.

Clover had to fight back a smile as the subway car jolted, the man nearly losing balance. Okay, he's definitely hungover. Why anyone would be hungover on a Wednesday of all days, he didn't know, but he wasn't there to judge.

He glanced up at the light-up map on the ceiling of the subway. They were only three stops away from his office, now. I can stand for that. So, he stood up, tapping the man on his shoulder as he paused the podcast on his phone. "Hey buddy," Clover murmured, keeping his expression pleasant. "You want the seat?"

The train was rolling into the tenth station now. The man- just a tiny bit shorter than Clover, it seemed- finally opened his eyes, looking up at Clover blearily. Clover sucked in a breath when he looked into the stranger's face, eyes fixated on the other in shock.

The other man's eyes were red. Bloodshot, yes- but the irises themselves were also a deep, smoldering crimson, golden flecks shining faintly underneath the canned fluorescent lighting, hinting at the sheer depth of those eyes. Clover gulped, mouth suddenly dry, absolutely entranced.

And then, the man's eyes shot wide open as the announcer called, "University Station. University Station. All passengers, please-"

"Oh, shit," the man hissed, his voice surprising low and gravelly. It entered Clover's ears, sinking down into his core, searing itself into his memory and curling in his gut. Before Clover could say anything, however, the man began pushing himself out of the train, managing to slip past the packed bodies just as the doors closed and the train rumbled back into action.

It took Clover a few moments for him to finally take a seat once more, his green eyes glazed over in memory of red staring back at him. The man had been attractive before, but with that look-

And suddenly, Clover found himself looking forward to the workday. After all, if he was lucky, maybe he'd find crimson eyes looking back at him on the way home.