and oh my love, remind me what was it that I did?
did I drink too much? am I losing touch?
did I build this ship to wreck?
Okay.Erika was squeezed into a corner in an already overwhelmingly packed carriage on the train. She was pressed up against the window as various members of the Trickett clan decided it was a good idea to all squish into the one. She didn't mind. She'd missed Christmas and New Year with most of her brood because she'd been away, working in Crete and most of the younger ones had been trapped.
It was late now, or early, depending on how you viewed things. On her lap were three small Trickett children, all cuddled together. In the carriage, it was mostly children. An hour before, it had been a riot of colour and noise. Crying and hugging, declarations of love greeting everyone. It had been a joyous time to be reunited. The little ones dashed to their parents and Erika had done her best to try and soothe anyone she could, hence why she had a pile of sleeping pre-teens on her knee.
The rain rocked gently from side to side, rain splattering on the windows as it careered down the tracks from Scotland to London on its long, snaking journey through the grey countryside. Erika stared straight ahead, rhythmically stroking the bright blonde locks of one of her many nieces. She didn't really know how she felt. Exhausted, battered, bruised. She almost felt like she was wrong to be upset. She'd been in the castle for a fortnight, nowhere near the amount of months some of the poor kids had to spend in there, worried for their survival. She almost felt guilty, almost like she wasn't worthy to grieve.
On the train trundled. The compartment was mostly filled with sleeping children and Erika was keeping watch. She was tired but she didn't feel sleepy. The carriage was dark, the only light spilling through the window came from the lights on the aisle of the train. The sheer jubilation had subsided now. They were safe, they were together and everyone was accounted for.
Erika had seen the Regan brood board the train and she was tempted to go and say hello but she realised that they were all wanting to see each other. She watched the pandemonium fondly as they grappled with one another, cheering and crying but she couldn't help but feel like a bit of an impostor, an unwelcome onlooker. She'd caught sight of Murphy's tall frame and then he'd disappeared again into the swell of bodies.
Not that it mattered. All that mattered was that he was safe.
Her fingers stroked the little girl's silky hair as she gazed down at her, wondering if she'd ever really be able to sleep again. Erika was pale, her skin drawn, her long blonde hair tied into a messy ponytail and without a scrap of make up on her face. Dressed in ripped jeans and a grungy white tee shirt, she was envious of the children in their clean pyjamas. She sincerely hoped this experience wouldn't damage them irrevocably.
She became restless. Erika hadn't spoken in two hours, afraid to wake one of her charges. Her fingers and feet itched to get up and move. With extreme care, she moved the little one off her lap and slid out of her seat, resting her head very gently on the cushions as she untangled herself gracefully. Her long legs stepped over various littered things; books, teddy bears, stray socks and sweet wrappers. With a smile, she gently closed the compartment door behind her with ease.
Once outside, Erika rested her back against the wall and covered her face with her hands. She felt drained, totally. Physically, she was fine bar a few scrapes but mentally, she wasn't perfect. "I thought you were stronger than this," she whispered, admonishing herself as she closed her eyes and breathed heavily, sliding her hands up her forehead and into her hair which she pulled down on sharply. She'd been trained for this. Erika Trickett was a warrior. In the peak of her physical fitness, she had many spells at her disposal and she was mentally strong. She was sassy and independent and she didn't
need looking after…so why did she feel the need to be comforted?
Dropping her hands, she shook her head roughly before she sniffed woefully. "Crying is for babies," she said tersely, reiterating what her two older brothers used to say to her all the time growing up. Annoyed at herself and her apparent weakness, she set off walking down the carpeted hallway.
Retrospectively, she didn't have anything to cry about. Her family was still in tact, she hadn't lost any friends and she was still in one piece. Perhaps she was just over tired or perhaps, she realised she could have maybe done more to help. Seeing her ex-boyfriend had filled her brain up with ways to get him back, rather than ways to get him out. She felt guilty. She and the others had managed to break the dome eventually but how much she was actually responsible for, she didn't know. She could have saved everyone but she'd still feel like she'd underperformed.
In a crisis, it was a very British thing to make a cup of tea and the staff on the Express had it covered. There was a large copper urn against the back wall with some white china cups which Erika swiftly filled with still-warm tea before adding milk and sugar. The heat was comforting as it warmed her palms, back tracking a little before stopping. Swiftly, she slid down the wall, sitting in the dimly lit corridor of the train by herself, gently rocking with the motion of the train, absently staring into space.
@Murphy Regan 
