THE CONSTRUCT: In The End

PART TWO

1.

Nigel, swept up in the romance of old-world travel, steps out of his plush compartment onto the corridor of the train he boarded for reasons yet to be determined, its gilded fixtures and polished wood echoing the grandeur of decades past. The gentle rocking of the carriage is punctuated only by the distant clatter of wheels on the tracks, and the faint strains of a piano from the lounge carriage drifting through the air.

As he walks, Nigel's gaze catches a glimpse through a half-open door ... a brief, unsettling view of a shadowed figure hurriedly tucking something away into a handheld case of sorts, not quite seen well enough for any descriptive recollection to be made at some point yet to come.

He pauses, heart quickening, sensing a tension that doesn't belong amongst the luxury and nostalgia of this journey. The moment feels out of place, like a discordant note in a well-rehearsed symphony, just as that décor both here and back at the station feels a certain belonging to a time from long ago. Perhaps it is Nigel who is out of place. A whisper of intrigue clings to him as he continues down the corridor, surrounded by the murmured conversations and clinking glasses of oblivious fellow travellers located in carriages either side of this one.

Nigel knows he's seen something meant to be concealed, and the silence of this part of the train suddenly feels much heavier that it should, almost conspiratorially so. The compulsion to investigate exists. A certain discovery comes inevitable.

It was her. He is certain. This is no trick of the mind. He can move on, say nothing, none of this involves him, except it does. Her death may as well be for nothing, justice and redemption can escape down a rabbit hole and he can go on, live his life, follow a path that is his if none of this ever was. He can't simply do that, involving himself further surely will endanger all that he is.

He can almost foresee a certain future where involvement may take him if his own survival can be asserted or assured. Could he live with that? Betray she with whom he hardly knew? If roles were reversed, would she have gone to battle for him?

With a steady hand, he pulls a bottle of whiskey from inside his coat and kneels by a weathered tombstone ... a name barely visible ... forever etched forever in Nigel's memory. This is not her place of burial but that of another. This is not a moment of now but one sometime far from now.

He sets the bottle down with a gentle clink, a modest tribute to the one who had stood by him when things were at their worst. A silent acknowledgement passes between Nigel and the gravestone. The weight of gratitude and regret hangs in the air, knowing this friend had risked everything ... ultimately losing it all ... simply because they believed in Nigel and chose to help when no one else would.

That could easily be Nigel down there and this sure makes for a more uneasy feeling, the possibility he could be down there or the fact that he is here, alive and well. For a moment, the world is hushed, and Nigel's unspoken gratitude lingers, more meaningful than any words could ever be.

No, he cannot move forwards forsaking those he knew for such a short period of time if it can be said he knew them at all as he also knew them not. He must at least try and find some peace, some justice, prevent a future of being tired and lonely, full of regret, and ensure that he himself is not taken prematurely.

That was another world, one he is only aware of on the basis of words told to him and a sense that perhaps he was there or from there. This is the world he has come to know whether or not he had his hand dipped in its creation. Besides he has been seen, they know he knows something. They'll be coming for him. And he knew her too, barely and briefly, he cannot simply move on as if he knew nothing at all.

Know her he did, indeed barely and briefly or perhaps more than he could recall, they had dined the evening prior ... just a little more than an hour or so into this journey. He had sat alone at a table fit for two in the dining carriage and while lost in thought and in awe of the beauty of the passing landscape as dusk was falling, she caught him off-guard.