X-ing Over

Thomas tugged his hood more securely over his head against the wind. His thin hoodie was barely enough to keep the cold at bay, considering the other people waiting for the train were bundled in winter coats and scarves. He could see the train rumbling down the tracks towards the cluster of people. It squealed and groaned to a halt, sending the people scurrying for the nearest door. Thomas headed a few carriages away from where most of the others boarded. It was mostly empty, given the absurdly early hour, and he managed to find a free seat with ease. The only other inhabitant of the carriage was an elderly man snoring at the back. He pulled her knees up to his chest and rested his chin on his knees. He let out a deep breath. For now, at least, he was safe.

The scenery flew by, getting further and further away from the small station. Slowly but surely the train filled up and at each stop, Thomas tensed, staring warily at the newcomers from the corner of his eye. For hours the seat beside him stayed empty. It was only as they pulled into Penn Station in New York, that a young man hesitated at his row. “Excuse me, Sir, is this seat free?” his voice held a soft London accent.

His eyes flashed up to meet his and he paused a moment before nodding. He clutched his knees closer to his chest, his shoulders nearly touching his ears. The man settled into the seat and relaxed, glancing over at Thomas. “Are you alright? First time on a train?” he asked, a sympathetic smile on his face.

He bit back the groan that threatened to pull from his throat. The man was only being kind, after all. He shook his head. “Bad day,” he murmured.

“Ah, I see,” he nodded. He pulled a book from his backpack and flipped it open. Thomas was able to see that it was an Agatha Christie book before he turned it away from him.

Thomas relaxed slightly. He seemed content to ignore him. The train jolted back to life and he allowed her shoulders to slump. He caught a quick glance and smile from the kind man. He rummaged through his bag until he found the burner phone he had bought that morning.

One text, from his best friend from around the time she had boarded the train. Be safe, keep me posted. I love you so much. He smiled at Jenn's message. Always a mother hen.

Passing through Manhattan. Love you too, he texted back. He tucked the phone into his pocket and grimaced as his bladder demanded attention. Sighing, he turned to the kind man. “Excuse me, could I get by please?”

“Of course.” He flashed him a blinding smile and stepped into the aisle to let him through.

“Thanks,” he said as he brushed past him to get to the restroom. He groaned when he saw that both cubicles were occupied. He leaned against the wall beside them, out of the way of other passengers.

The first of the cubicles opened and he took a step forward only to freeze as he met the man's eyes. Cold. Blue. Eyes. A smile slowly crept across his face. “Hello, Little Mouse,” Eric purred. “I've been keeping an eye on you all morning. Got a new fuck-buddy up there, hm?”

Thomas was unable to move. His legs had turned to lead. He reached for him, a heavy arm wrapping around his shoulders and yanking him close.

“We're getting off at the next stop, catching a train home, and then you can start to make this up to me,” he growled.

“Oi, let him go, Mate,” a voice from behind made Eric turn. It was the kind man from Thomas' row. The angles of his face seemed sharper with the scowl on his lips.

“This is between us,” Eric sneered. “It has nothing to do with you.”

The other man looked at Thomas, meeting his wide, terrified eyes. The man turned a sharp glare to Eric. “I will not stand by and let another person be terrorized. Let. Him. Go.”

Most of the carriage had turned their attention to the confrontation going on, staring as curiously as they would watching a TV melodrama. Someone rushed through the doors at the other end, no doubt to fetch an attendant. Thomas felt Eric's torso shift and saw the arm not keeping him pinned to his body move. His eyes widened even further, if that were possible. The other man seemed to register the movement as well and took a step back, his hands coming up to defend himself if necessary.

Time slowed to a crawl. The other man dropped into a fighting stance, obviously having brawled before. Eric's grip on Thomas loosened as he pulled his other arm back, metal gleaming in his tightly clenched fist. Thomas' heart leapt into his throat. This man had been nothing but kind. He had shown Thomas nothing but respect though he had barely spoken to Thomas at all. He exuded proper manners and understanding. Thomas didn't even know his name and yet his ex was about to attack the poor stranger. There was no time to think. No time to consider the consequences. Thomas moved at the same time as Eric. The stranger's eyes widened in surprise at Thomas' movement as he tried to focus on Eric. Thomas more or less stumbled between the two.

It felt more like a punch to the solar plexus at first. It took a moment for the pain of the blade to register. He stared at Eric, mouth gaping open in pain. Eric blinked at him in disbelief. The searing pain flooded his abdomen, causing him to lurch forward, exhaling in a wail. The stranger lunged and yanked him away from Eric. Thomas didn't see what happened next, but there was a crunch and yelp from Eric before the stranger lowered him to the ground.

“Is there a doctor?!” the stranger shouted. He balled up his scarf and pressed it firmly to the wound. “You're gonna be okay,” he said, trying to make his voice sound calm as he addressed Thomas. His voice shook violently despite the attempt. “You'll be okay.”

Thomas' entire body trembled as he reached a hand out to the stranger. “Thank you,” he murmured, offering up a small smile. The stranger squeezed his hand with the one not keeping pressure on the wound.