Sometimes, for a little while, logic stopped making sense. Especially for someone who prided themselves with impeccable instinct and astute observation skills.

For Skye, it had started when her douchebag fiance had failed to show to their wedding. The shame and pain she'd felt back then threw her on a road of self analysis and discovery. It was then she'd decided to pursue the field of psychiatry. It was than that she'd decided to stay away, watch from afar, judge and live and let die.

She'd let Lucas die. She'd let her fading friendships and her relationship with her family wither. She had let every patient's problems slide off her and she'd come out on top, shining. Because she'd learned to love herself, flawed as she was, and it was all she needed.

But now, as much as she tried, she couldn't let Sam slide off her. Because she'd misjudged him, and because he wouldn't let her back off. His shine was like a zapper, drawing her in, inviting her to touch him and burn.

Those stupid thoughts passed through her mind as she stood across the table from him in the dining cart of the train to Washington D.C. He was reading something, a very thin crease of concentration between his eyebrows. It was still strange to see him so focused, so determined, when for most of their interactions he'd been a wailing bag of repressed feelings.

He'd changed so much, and it was that change that unsettled her. Contrary to her initial fear, the death of his father had pulled him out of his Christine-induced sorrow and back into the real world where he had goals, friends and reasons to be happy. He smiled more now, laughed, joked with her. He was lovely.

He's your patient. The mantra kept spinning inside her head, but Skye didn't truly believe it, not anymore. Sam was mostly healed. He no longer needed her constant surveillance and could've easily completed this assignment without her. She could reduce their sessions to once a week. Once every two weeks. Once a month, if she were honest. Just to check in on his progress. As friends. They could be friends, right? There was nothing against befriending your patients. Especially after you were mostly done with them.

Of course there was. The objectivity flew out the window the moment she started caring about him. How could she make him better if she wanted to see only the good in him? But trying to see the bad had failed miserably.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, not raising his eyes from the book on the table.

She shrugged even if she knew he couldn't see her. "Silly stuff. Mostly what we're going to do for this twenty-four hour train ride."

"Sleep for a part of it," he said with a smirk.

Yes, Herrison had been generous enough to get the a sleeping cart as well, seeing as he didn't bother to buy tickets for the fastest connection. Too obvious, he'd said. They'd ruled out obvious when they decided not to send them by plane. At least they'd be in DC in the course of the morning and have enough time to prep for Von Crooken's marvelous Christmas ball.

It was so weird that her luggage consisted of a long red sequin dress, a pair of high heals, makeup and then just bare necessities like extra underwear and a t-shirt. If she had to go light, makeup would have been the last thing she'd take along. For Sam it was even harder, since he needed an entire carry-on for the suit and his own makeup kit.

"Nervous?" he asked.

She nodded and slumped in her seat, trying to focus on the snowy landscape rushing by. Why lie? She wasn't as used to potentially being executed like he was. Even if most of their sessions focused on his childhood and his mental issues, she had asked as much as she could about his adventures without giving away her mounting curiosity.

He'd been captured, almost thrown off a cliff, threatened, almost drowned and beaten into a coma, just to name a few things. And yet, here he was, taking this entire journey lightly, as if they weren't going to a place which could prove deadly.

Her legs rubbed against his under the tiny table and the heat brought a shiver up her spine. Why did he have to make her feel so safe? He didn't look at her, just smiled to himself, but lowered in his seat the slightest bit, as if he wanted to touch more of her. She was enabling him again, but it had turned into solace for her a well.

This isn't good. This isn't good at all. She should stop lying to herself. Maybe she had book smarts when it came to psychiatry, but she was a rubbish professional.

"We're being watched," Sam suddenly said. With a lazy smile he leaned back in his seat.

"What?"

"Don't look panicky or anything. They're three tables behind us, wearing trucker caps because screw subtlety." His tone, the way he looked at her, nothing indicated any sign of danger.

"You have a great poker face," she whispered and started searching her purse. Her fingers finally clutched around her compact mirror and she pulled it out with natural movement. Maybe it was his calm, but it was hard to freak out at the moment.

"You're doing very well yourself." He leaned towards her with a smile.

Skye opened the tiny mirror and pretended to apply powder to her cheeks and nose and moved it around as though searching for the best light. She spotted their followers immediately thanks to their caps, but they seemed to be normal people having a heated conversation.

"How do you know they're watching us?"

"Because I've been watching everyone in this cart ever since we came in."

"So no actual reading?"

"I think I managed one paragraph."

Now it was getting a bit scary, but she closed the compact and put it back. "How many of them?"

"Four I think. Could be five, but one of them keeps coming and going. Probably checking if we have any means to escape."

Yes, probably. Skye checked her watch. They were six hours into their journey which meant they had a lot to go.

"Did you think I was crazy when you met me?" Sam suddenly asked.

She actually jumped. "What?"

"I promise it's relevant for our predicament."

"Um, no. Maybe just... unwell?"

His smile was warm and he started humming something that sounded remarkably like Matchbox 20. Now, when fully looking him in the eyes did she notice that his gaze kept fleeting towards their followers every few seconds. Yes, he'd been on the lookout and it had paid off.

"I'm about to prove you wrong."

That sounded bad, yet the fear was almost immediately knocked over by a weird sense of excitement. Sam leaned over the table towards her which made her pulse rush even faster. He smelled so good, was so close.

"Follow my lead." He leaned even closer and for a second she was convinced he wanted to roleplay and would kiss her.

Instead, he stopped a breath apart, the pulled away and slid his book in his backpack. Then, with a warm smile, he took her hand and helped her up.

"What exactly are we doing?" she asked. It was a miracle her voice was steady when he'd wrapped her arm around her waist and was leading her away.

He leaned towards her again, brushing his nose against her neck. This time she shivered.

"They're following us," he said, straightening and moving a tiny bit faster.

Heat rose to Skye's cheeks as she realized how stupid she was being. He was pretending and using the cuddling to actually see what was going on without raising suspicions. They were in danger and all she could think about was him.

"Silly goose," she muttered to herself.

"No," Sam said. "Reckless idiot."

Before she could ask, Sam grabbed a glass from the last table and, with a gracious twist, turned and threw it in the face of their first follower. It smashed on impact and filled the man's pockmarked face with shards and blood. Then another glass zoomed towards the men. Two, three, four, and by the fifth, people in the cart were screaming and moving away enough to block the progress of the men.

Sam and Skye dashed behind the door of the restaurant cart and he slammed it closed behind them. He glanced forward and opened the door to their side, leading out. The door wailed, the wind cut into ther faces and snowflakes danced inside the small space which connected the two carts.

"What are we doing?"

Her question was answered the moment she looked towards the door leading into the adjoining sitting cart. There were men coming towards them from that direction, too.

Sam grabbed her hand and pushed her in the doorway. For one wild moment, she was sure he'd push her off the train. It was going insanely fast. Instead, he wrapped her fingers against the rung of a side ladder and tossed her out.

Biting in a scream, Skye wrapped her other hand around the rung and propped her feet on the ladder for security. Even if she knew what she had to do, the rush of adrenaline was almost paralyzing.

Get moving. She knew that if she did, it would unfreeze her and make her faster, more efficient. She forced her limbs to obey and scurried up to the roof. The roof of a speeding train.

Sam followed her up in seconds and the moment they were somewhat secure in the middle of the roof, he started searching his pockets. Snowflakes danced around them and her teeth started clattering. Even if she wore a woolen sweater, it was no match for the biting December air.

"Let's go."

He took her hand and they started an awkward run on the roof of the train. It was freezing, the wind was painful against her face, and she couldn't believe what they were doing. He suddenly stopped and she bumped into his back.

"Get down," Sam shouted over the wind.

She obeyed instantly. Two men had climbed on the roof as well. Without missing a beat, Sam pulled a gun out shot at both of them. The sound echoed around them, dancing with the wailing wind. Skye covered her ears, but her senses remained alert. There were more men climbing on the roof, coming towards them. How did they find them? The train was so long.

Sam shot two more out of sight, but stopped once the remaining two pointed their own guns at him. He raised his hands and slowly put his pistol back in the holster strapped to the back of his belt. Skye glanced behind her at the sound of clunking metal. Two more men joined them, wobbling past her as if she were nothing, and stopping behind Sam.

For a moment there was silence. Then Sam dropped something he'd been holding in his hand and threw himself at the two men in front of him. The two men behind him took their shots, but missed. Like in a nightmare, Sam and the two he'd charged toppled over the edge of the cart.

The remaining two lingered a moment before heading to see what was happening. Skye rolled on the spot and kicked at their legs. Her foot made contact with a shin and the man lost his balance and fell over the side of the train.

The remaining man turned to her, his bushy eyebrows pulled together and his teeth bared. She stayed on her stomach, her eardrums pulsing along with her rushing blood, her mind spinning between the fact that Sam could be dead, as well as the guy she'd just kicked off the train, and the current threat in front of her.

She didn't have a gun and the man did. If she stood, there was a great chance she'd stumble, fall off the train and die. Yet, she couldn't be a sitting duck, make it easy for her executioner to shoot her where she lay.

"He's right behind you!" she called.

The man huffed and pointed his gun. "Your boyfriend fell off the train."

"He's not my boyfriend, he's my patient." Not that the thug needed to know that, but spiking his curiosity might delay her execution.

It seemed to work since he raised his eyebrows. He was too far for her to reach and kick. There was nothing to throw and her muscles were paralyzed with cold. The only choice she had was to try and tackle him. If only she could convince her limbs to move. Painfully slow, she pulled herself into an awkward crouch.

The man chuckled. "Look at the kitty trying to look dangerous." He raised his gun again and the sound of a gunshot cut through the swishing wind.

Yet, there was no pain. Just the man staring at her with wide eyes, his gun now slack in his hand. Skye scurried closer on ther elbows and knees and kicked his legs out from under him. With a thump that left behind a trail of blood, he rolled off the roof and disappeared into the whiteness.

She raised her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks from the cold and the pain inside her chest. Sam knelt on the roof, a gun in his hand, breathing heavily.

"How--?" She swallowed the rest of her question as he put his gun away and started rolling the wire back inside his magnet.

"I shot the guy in the ass," he said, barely audible over the wind. He looked pale and there was a bruise over his right eyebrow.

"Are you okay?" she called out.

"Let's get off the train."

She'd never heard a more inviting offer. Sam crawled over to her, secured the wire of the magnet around both of them just in case and then they climbed down the ladder and back inside the narrow hall between two random carts.

The heat made her muscles weak. Or maybe it was the adrenaline rush fading.

Sam drew in a shaky breath the moment the door closed and the frigid air stopped whipping their faces. They stood in silence for a few seconds, both of them drawing breaths. She tried to regain proper focus, analyze what had just happened, but before she could, he took her hand and entered the cart to their left.

She had no idea how he still knew what he was doing, where he was going, but three carts later, they were in the sleeping compartment that belonged to only them. With shaky knees, she sat on the bed while Sam pulled the curtains all around them and blocked the feeble light from outside. It took him seconds to turn on the electric ones, but the moments of darkness was enough for her eyes to adjust and explode into a million fireworks once faced with new light.

Still, she sat in silence as the events of the past twenty minutes started catching up with her. Had it been just twenty minutes?

"How do you cope?" Even if she was no longer cold, her teeth clattered as she let the words out.

Sam flinched and raised his face. The claminess of his skin was even more visible in the artificial light and there was a thin sheen of sweat covering his forehead.

"Cope with what?" His voice was breathy, a little pained.

"I think I just killed someone."

"You didn't."

"I could have. I kicked his legs and he fell off a speeding train--"

He took her hands and squeezed. "You didn't.  That's how you cope. You did not shoot him in the head. You did not see the light in his eyes die out. You defended yourself and he disappeared."

"Denial?"

"Acceptance." He took in a shaky breath. "It's self defense. Always self defense. Because when it's not..." He didn't continue and she was a little too overwhelmed to ask.

He had a point. There was no other way to live a life like his. Like theirs. Because now she was part of it, too.

"We need to get off this train," he said, massaging his temples.

"What?" Didn't they already do that?

"As I said, those guys aren't dead. So it's very likely Snitch Gravel knows where we are and can guess where we're going. The next batch won't be scouts."

His words spun around her head as she tried to figure out ranks and positions, but Sam wasn't giving her the chance to process properly. He stood and started gathering up his luggage.

"We're supposed to reach a station in about twenty minutes. I'm sure a shitload of goons will be waiting for us there. We need to get off before that."

"Um wait, are you saying..."

"Yes, we're jumping off the train."

Air became scarce and Skye struggled to breathe. "What if we die?"

"If we jump right now, we might. But I'm thinking we head down to the last cart and jump as the train slows down to enter the station. That way, we can wait it out and after the train leaves again, if we spot no goons, we can go to the station and wait for the next one." He took out his phone and started typing on it.

That sounded reasonable. "But will we still get to the party on time?"

Sam smiled, his eyes still focused on the screen of his phone. "I have to say I love your determination. We're getting the job done. There will be another train coming, but it will tighten our schedule some."

Skye had no idea why she still cared about the mission at this point, but she did. It was a job and she was going to do it right, especially since it was her choice to tag along.

So when the train started slowing, she picked up her luggage, and when Sam told her to throw it off the train, she did. And when he wrapped his arms around her and jumped, she didn't fight it, just winced when his back hit the ground and he sucked air through his teeth. Her own body slammed against his and all air exited her lungs. But she's hit something soft, unlike Sam who'd taken the entire burnt of the frozen ground.

They didn't roll over dramatically, just stopped, half buried in snow. For a moment, they lay in silence, the wind swishing between nearby trees, giant snowflakes falling over them. Her heart beat so fast, the sound of her thundering pulse was all she could hear.

"Can you see the station?" Sam asked, his voice barely audible.

Skye raised her head, but he put his hand on top of it and lowered it back so that she rested her cheek against his chest.

"From this position. We don't want to be seen."

She turned her face the tiniest bit and looked up, her breathing still coming out in short, sharp gasps. "Yes, I can see it." Flickering Christmas lights covered the front and it looked so warm and inviting.

Even with her winter jacket on, her jeans were soaking with melting snow and she was cold. As if sensing it, Sam tightened his hold on her and pulled her on top of him completely.

"How are you not cold?" she whispered. Her voice came out shaky, her body reacting to a fear she couldn't yet acknowledge. She'd jumped off a moving train.

"You're warm."

So was he, but it wasn't enough. She still shivered and the damn train seemed stuck inside the station. Maybe it had broken down and they'd freeze to death.

Time warped and silence seemed to have swallowed the world.

"I need you to look around," Sam whispered. "Make sure no one is coming towards us."

She obeyed, but the thick curtain of snow made it impossible to see more than a few feet in front of her. After a while, every snowflake looke like a shadow coming towards them.

With a deafening screech, the train finally left the station what felt like hours later. The moment the sound faded into the wind, Sam sat up, still cradling her to his chest, and looked around.

"Let's get the luggage," he said, his voice low and croaky.

They jogged through the snow to their fallen bags then proceeded to drag them to the station. Skye was already so exhausted, it was hard to focus properly on anything but walking. The inside of the station was warm and filled with Christmas decorations and carols blasting from the speakers, yet she had never felt further removed from that world.

She used to be the unaware tourist, windowshopping and making her way home where she would spend the holiday listening to carols with a glass of red wine in hand.

Now she was the paranoid maniac jumping at every sound, only focusing on the practical aspects of her location. Like heat and the potential for dry clothes.

"How do you live like this?" she asked as she and Sam sat side by side inside the station, waiting for the next train.

"What do you mean?" His voice was warm, normal, as if he hadn't had a tiny height freak-out and thrown himself off a moving train, then almost froze hiding in the snow.

"Without being able to relax, see the beauty in things..."

"You mean without being a tourist?"

She pondered a little on his statement, but nodded. Stupid as it sounded, she missed being a tourist right now. She missed not having to look over her shoulder.

He shrugged. "I started very young. Didn't get to be a tourist before."

"You should try it. It's amazing."

"Then maybe you should take me somewhere."

"Maybe I will." Gah, she was flirting with him. Actually flirting and entertaining the idea of going on vacation with him. This had to stop. But it couldn't, not when she depended on him for safety, when she couldn't fathom being apart from him.

He smiled at her, and it was one of those smiles that made him look confident and... hot. Ugh, why lie? He was hot. And every second she spent with him made him even more irresistible, which was why coming on this thing with him had been a terrible idea.

"Never got to thank you," he said all of a sudden.

"For what?"

"Saving my ass. Kicking goons off trains is badass."

Damn it! But as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him, she let him and grinned to herself. That was maybe the best compliment she'd ever recieved.

♠️♠️♠️

Happy New Year everyone! May all your goal be reachable. Especially your writing related ones! I'm throwing out a small update because I've actually been productive over the holiday and I have backlog again. Yay me!

I'm also very excited about this part of the story and I hope you found the train ride entertaining. I enjoyed having this in Skye's POV and I hope you're getting to know her better.

Next chapter, party time!

Vote and comment becasue all feedback at this point it very appreciated. See you all next year!