Work Text:
Late at night, Ian Francis is unable to sleep.
They've always had a hard time with it, but something about today made it even harder than usual—the absolute excitement that ran through their veins at the thought of returning home to her loved ones after such a long journey. They really weren't far, now… And as the candle flickered in the darkness—only occasionally inturupted by a flicker of moonlight—Ian couldn't help but peel her eyes open and grab her journal from her suitcase as well as a pen.
Yet again I cannot sleep. She writes. I am filled with much joy, returning home. I long to see my lover again. I long to embrace my parents once more, with a much larger abundance of gratitude than when I last saw them. Being without people is… Distressing. It causes my thoughts to go elsewhere. I am glad to be home, soon.
Ian takes a sip of the drink beside them, Today has not been much besides that. Besides wandering thoughts of fear mixed with the must more satiating wonder and hopefulness for the future set ahead of me. It is all I could ever —
Ian hears shuffling near him, and startles, knocking over his drink. They quickly tear the half-written page out and close their journal swiftly. The doorknob rattles before it opens, and Ian feels around for anything they can use as a weapon, breathing heavily, wide eyes set on the door in front of them.
It is only a woman. Ian is safe. Any other man on this train, and Ian is sure she would have been done for.
An oil lamp burns in the lady's hand, glowing against her dress and the doorframe. She looks scared—or hyperaware—and takes a few hesitant steps before noticing Ian with one last step.
"Oh," Is all she says for a time. Both women stare at each other in that silence, analyzing the situation around them. "I'm sorry, I thought this was my room, I–"
"Are you alone?" Ian asks it casually, their expression returning from shock.
The lady turns her head back. "I am."
Ian gets up and puts a hand on her shoulder with a mildly cocerned expression. "It's not safe for us to be alone."
The proper lady's face lights up a bit, but it spreads to confusion. "You're alone?
Ian nods. "We can room together, for as long as I have left of my ride. I keep you safe, you keep me safe, we keep each other safe as we can."
The other's expression furrows, and she looks away. "I… Am not the best at keeping others safe."
Ian does not let her leave. He will not. "Any company is better than none." When he sees she still is trying to polietly shrug his hand off her shoulder, he pleads, "Please," with a shaky voice. "I've been alone far too long…"
There is another bout of silence in which Ian is unsure of whether the proper lady will accept their invitation or not. Ian's grip on her shoulder tightens, not out of maliciousness—but fear.
She turns, and Ian believes she's going to tell her off before she speaks, starting with a sigh. "Very well… You will keep me safe?"
Ian nods exitedly, deeply satisfied with the company. "I came very prepared to have this trip alone. We will be safe, I promise." She sat on her bed, tapping for the lady to sit next to her. "Now, what's your name?"
The lady just barely smiles. "Florence. Florence Clementine."
Ian smiles. "What a beautiful name! I am Ian Francis."
Florence only nods and sits next to them. "Thank you."
For once in a long while, Ian is unrecognized, and is grateful for it. They don't know what they would do if a proper lady like Florence knew that name and looked at them, horrified at the person they were.
"Of course, Florence," Ian says. "We'll be safe."
Florence simply nods back.