Richard gazed down at Fanguella's sleeping face, tight and anxious even in sleep. She kept twisting her head, and her back, raising her shoulders in the ways of a person with chronic pain. Her tears had dried on her face, her eyes were shadowed. Richard frowned. All that he knew of this woman was the saucy, sexy woman that she had portrayed for his benefit. Her social face, he supposed. If this was her face when nobody was looking, then there was obviously a problem. He had been disappointed when she had not called back and had stood him up for their "appointment" as he liked to think of it. He hadn't known what to think. He had obsessed over her. Yet here she was, appearing as if by magic on the very train that he was on. He couldn't look at her any more, her sad face, her hopeless tears, her back twisting in discomfort. He had simply come back here planning to tease her a little for 'chickening out' he was going to say, no hard feelings he was going to add, still feeling hopeful that he could charm her and hook up in Montreal. When she had bumped into him from behind, she had looked very familiar. Richard had not gotten a good look at her face, and had to come and be sure that it was she. Make some tasteful comment about what a coincidence that she should bump into him from behind just as he was picturing that exact thing, only naked. He had smiled wickedly to himself. He sat down in the seat behind her, leaned forward and dropped the Now magazine he had been holding onto the floor, and placed his hands gently onto her shoulders. He began to massage her tense shoulders, kneading her muscles gently at first, not wanting to wake her. She sighed in her sleep, turned her cheek to the side to rub against his hand. He cupped her cheek for a moment, holding her head up in his warm hands, and simply looked at her for a moment. Her face seemed to relax a little as she absorbed the warmth of his hands. He was glad. After a moment, he placed it against the back of her seat again and began to massage the back of her neck and shoulders again. He started kneading more deeply as he felt her start to relax. She sat up straighter all of a sudden, and for a moment, Richard feared he had wakened her. He felt the urge to flee. He didn't want her to see him there, he felt suddenly that he was intruding, getting in the way of her escape, invading her privacy. She was escaping, he realized more clearly in his mind. She did not answer her door when he had come knocking for reasons that probably had nothing to do with him. She seemed to settle more comfortably into her chair, her face appearing less tense. He massaged her back a moment more before getting up silently and leaving. The large man from the seat across the aisle from her watched him leave, wondering. Assuming Richard was her boyfriend from the tender way he had pushed her hair from her face as he had left, and the feathery light kiss he had pressed to her face on the skin beside her eye. He went back to his book, an Agatha Christy mystery, his favorite reading for traveling.