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John had never been on a train before.
This was an obvious fact, simple and plain. The only vehicle he and Arthur had been in together was a car, and that had ended in a car crash, which wasn't even mentioning the whole ordeal with Kellin and his vehicle-
But now they were out of the dreamlands, and with John in his own body, more thought could be directed to the mudane issues of life. And he was learning there were plenty of them.
It wasn't that travelling in general was an problem for him, as they had already taken quite a few trips in Arthur's new (much less dented) car. Hell, John has even driven it before. No, it was more the fact that a train was public transport, meaning he was about to be around more people than ever before. In an enclosed space.
"Relax! Honestly, anyone would think you were being tortured. You should see your face."
John turned away to stare intently out the window of the taxi, and couldn't help his face contorting into a petulant pout (why were expressions so difficult to control?). It was alright for him. Arthur was used to all this, the hustle and bustle of city life, the people, the sounds. This was Arthur's world. He had probably caught hundreds of trains to follow up on his cases, and today was no exception.
They were off to New York, following a lead on the case of a young woman murdered in cold blood, and the prime suspect- her jilted lover- lives there, as far as they know. Which would have been fine but-
"I still think we should have taken your car." muttered John, slinking into his seat and scowling.
"John, i am not driving for 4 hours just because you are having a hissy fit over being around other people."
"I am not having a hissy fit." He growled.
"Just listen to yourself! It's impossible to believe you were an eldritch God a month ago-"
"Yes, well, being in a human body like this is a lot to get used to. Dealing with the outside world is another matter entirely."
Arthur sighed, not unkindly. "That's true, i suppose. I forget all this is a lot for you."
He paused for a moment, as they made the left turn to arrive in front of the station, careening into a puddle that had collected by the pavement which created a spray of water up against the taxi's glass.
The expression on Arthur's face was... hard to read, as most expressions of his were for John. It was one of the many things he was becoming acclimatised to, as he had spent most of his time looking out of Arthur's face, rather than getting to read the nuance of every shift in mood.
"You can stay here instead, you know, if it's too much. Theres-"
"No, i'll be fine. Besides, if i don't come you'll never let me hear the end of it, knowing you."
Arthur scoffed. "Alright, now i know you're just being a prick."
John visibly relaxed. This is how he prefered it- the low-level bickering, compared to the deep murky waters of emotions and heartfelt conversation he felt he had been treading a few moments before. It was all still very confusing. But one thing he knew was that, in truth, he did want to go with Arthur, but not because of the mocking he might get if he stayed.
He didn't want to be left alone in that empty office, an idiotic thought, as the whole reason he didn't want to go was the amount of people travelling with them. But it was different when they were together. Him and Arthur had barely ever been apart, not even in the month they now habited separate bodies. To stay with him just felt... safe. Normal.
For it to just be the two of them was how John prefered it.
They exited the taxi, staring up at the steel grey sky, clouded over and threatening monsoon-like rain. Arthur handed over the money as the driver gave a perplexed look toward John's perminant incensed manner. They turned away toward the station's entrance as Arthur muttered "No need to look so pissed at everyone all the time. You're going to make them suspicious." under his breath.
"Suspicious of what, Arthur? That i'm a once-powerful otherworldly God in a human body?"
"You know what i meant. At least try and give a smile."
John flashed a half-hearted grimace Arthur's way.
"Hmm. Perhaps not."
John rolled his eyes. "Then shut the hell up."
All hostility faded however, as his view came to rest on the grandios structure before them. Boston South Station.
It loomed like a monolith, towering over the landscape despite being no taller than any other large building- a centre piece representing the bustling world around them. Sturdy sandstone pillars supported its front entrance, rounded and smoothed through careful handiwork, perfectly framing the imposing doorway in place. Perhaps John only thought about it in this light due to his aprehension, trying to be more of the optimist than the realist, but still- he couldn't help but be drawn toward the craftmanship, a moth to an impressive flame.
Arthur, however, had been here far too many times under too much stress to care about the building's beauty anymore. He eyed the clock embedded into its face above sourly.
"Tch. We barely made it on time."
"We would've arrived earlier if you had set out the case files the night before, instead of digging around the office this morning."
"No, because i specifically remember asking you to get them out, John."
Here John gave a genuine smirk. For someone learning to live by his mistakes, Arthur certainly was a stubborn man.
They hurried on, entering into a spacious area crowded with tired looking travellers. The enormous ceiling above seemed to stretch upward for miles, its grimey glass pannels letting the early morning light from the stoney sky seep in.
John was intrigued by his surroundings, and having spent so long being Arthurs eyes he realised he missed describing what was around them, now only able to do it in his own mind. So enamoured that he was, he almost collided with someone, who yelled "Watch it!" and hurried away. Now John had his own body to look out for.
"C'mon Detective," said Arthur "Keep your wits about you."
With another efficient exchange of cash, they collected their train tickets from the booth graciously, and headed toward the respective platform, passing through the foyer and up a set of steps. John was now hyper-aware of his surroundings, skirting the masses of people on tip-toes attempting not to tread on any shoes. This body wasn't the most compact.
However, they managed to make it on time and- after Arthur had finished laughing at John's unorthadox dance and pained expression- he finally saw the steam train.
It was magnificent.
The smoke curling from its engine hung low in the air, a dramatic mist swirling about the machine. Its paintwork was as dark as the coal that fueled it, and the weak beams of light now poking through the clouds bounced off it, making it shimmer so brightly it hurt to look at. But he couldn't stop staring. It was incredible, the innovation of humans, how they could yank metal out of the earth and shape it into something so powerful, so-
"-ohn? John? Are we getting on or-?"
"Hm? Oh yes, of course. I was... distracted."
"Right, well as long as you're ok."
They boarded through the nearest door just as the station master blew his whistle, signalling the beginning of their journey. The inside of the train, on the other hand, was not so pleasant, as it was wall-to-wall packed with passengers, all jostling for the most room and spare seats.
"Hmm. Serves me right for going on a Saturday morning i suppose." mused Arthur "Looks like we'll have to stand until some people get off at the next stop."
Only one word resonated with John in that moment. "Stand?"
"Well, yes."
"But, Arthur. The train is going to be moving."
"Well, well, goodness me John! If i'd known you were this observant i would have got you a job as an investigator day jot!"
"Very amusing."
Well, it seemed there would be no sympathy from him. Looks like he would have to face this new challenge on his own.
Noise began to fill the air as the train creaked into its crawl, gradually building up speed. Surprised, John grasped for Arthur's shoulder for balance, clinging on like a limpet far too tightly. People gave some odd looks in their direction, but Arthur merely stiffled a chuckle as John glared down at him, a stare that threatened a very painful death if his wobble was to be mentioned in any way.
Luckily, the next few stations didn't take long to reach, and bodies piled off, finally leaving some seats spare. John lept toward the booths as if his life depended on it, dragging Arthur by the arm and pretty much shoving him into one of them.
He sat, making sure Arthur had the window seat. He'd like that, after spending so long- too long- trapped in the dark, now getting to see streaks of green and brown pass by as they hurtled down the track. Wind rattled the carriage, causing the metal to clunk at them in complaint.
"So," John began "Seems like a straight-forward case. A victim and her murderer."
"Well, stranger things than death can happen. You of all people will know that."
John hummed in agreement as he shifted his view to look out the window, thinking about this. He knew Arthur was refering to their hardships in the dreamlands, the creatures they faced, the near death experiances, the actual death experiances. All they had gone through in those months was enough to make the strongest willed person change their perspective on the world. But John couldn't help thinking instead to this past month, in his new body.
He had been shown many an old casefile by Arthur in his first week, as an introduction to the sort of thing he'd be dealing with day-to-day in this career. John wasn't naïve. He knew the man-made horrors that lay in the human world. But seeing all those terrible events written out so factually in black and white: murders, blackmails, thefts, violence...
Stranger things than death can happen right in your own backyard.
All that he had been told and read made him almost feel distgusted about now being human himself.
Almost.
"Well," stated Arthur, derailing this train of thought. "I should probably get started on the case notes now, who knows how long finding this man will take once we get there..." He reached into his bag and began pulling out a manilla folder.
"Arthur, can you think about anything but your job for more than five seconds?" said John scathingly, as if he hadn't just been doing that himself.
"I know what has to be done on cases like this, and i'm going to make the notes now."
"Arthur." he said meaningfully.
John reached out to stop him, gently placing a hand on Arthur's left one. Their hand. The one they shared all that time, for better or for worse. The one thing that had truly bound them together, apart from his eyes of course. He found he missed being in control of it, in a strange sort of way, knowing that whatever happened, he could be there to help, despite what little he could have actually done. John was certainly glad Arthur had it back now, but all the same-
Arthur had stopped it his tracks, looking down at John's touch- who immediately regretted this action and pulled away, cringing. Why had he done that? Acting on an impulse, that's why. A stupidly human thing to do.
And Arthur had that look on his face again, the one he couldn't get a read on, that he still didn't quite understand.
John cleared his throat, relieved to move on from whatever that moment was.
"All i'm saying is, i'm sure you'll have plenty of time to write up notes once we get back."
He expected Arthur to protest like usual- the man was a chronic workaholic- or flat out ignore him and soldier on with it. But to John's surprise, he slowly placed the folder away and closed the bag.
"Yes, you're quite right."
He wanted to see the expression on Arthur's face as he said this, but he had already turned away to look out the window again. John now understood how frustrating it must have been for him- talking with a being who only existed as a voice- no underlying emotions able to be conveyed.
The perculiar atmosphere passed quickly, however, and idle conversation resumed, Arthur now reminiscing about a paticularly dramatic case him and Parker had worked on some years back. John listened contently. He liked being able to see Arthur talk. The way his eyes lit up as the memories flooded back, how he gestured wildly with his hands as he spoke, how he paused and screwed up his face as he attempted to recall a certain event.
It made a change from the stories he used to tell, forced out of him through guilt or John's insistant questioning. Strange, how guilt, fear and pain all belonged to the past now. Still visible, the scar on Arthur's neck was large and obvious, but fading. It was yet another mark of the past- their past they had created together, albeit a tragic, terrifying one.
But they had worked through it, and opened up, finally. He couldn't be too harsh though, as what had happened to Arthur before all this- his parents, his wife, Faroe- was not what he had been expecting at all. Hearing those stories for the first time felt like lifetimes ago.
In a funny way, John supposed, it was.
Coming to a painstaking halt, the train let out one final screech as it arrived at the station in New York. John had expected this journey to be tediously boring back in the taxi all those hours ago, but in fact they had flown by. Now he was smiling.
"You know, if i hadn't been there i'd find it impossible to believe that yesterday you were dreading this." Arthur teased.
John's smile disappeared. "I wasn't dreading it." He lied.
"Liar."
With hurried steps they fell out onto the platform, clouds now having cleared and the afternoon sun shining high above. Due to being on the outskirts of the state, this station was smaller and much less crowded, despite the time of day. John quietly let out a sigh of relief in realising this.
Arthur turned to him, so full of excitement at being on another case, another adventure.
"Are you ready?"
John could feel it too, a joy that surged over him, an emotion unknown to him not so long ago, but growing in frequency. And on yet another impulse- a frighteningly stupid human impulse- he grabbed Arthur's hand properly this time, almost not caring what he or anybody else thought.
Almost.
"Yes. I think i am."