<strong>Philadelphia, P.A., Express to NYC, 1:52 a.m.</strong><br/><br/>Washington Hale practically collapsed back into the seat.  Virginia was certain she felt the train car shift under his weight.  She had never before seen him actually stop to catch his breath, but at least the blood had stopped flowing from the stump of his severed left arm!  Well, severed wasn’t quite right, their quarry had torn the man’s arm clean off in the fight atop the train.  Virginia stepped gingerly over the vampire on the floor of the little cabin as she rummaged through the suit case for replacement clothes for Hale.<br/><br/>“Why…” Hale started to ask something, “did it take so long for him to die?”<br/><br/>Virginia turned to look the man in his beautiful eyes, still full of life.  Sighing with relief she glanced down and saw the stump of arm regrowing before her very eyes.  “Is it always like that?” she asked, holding out a shirt for him.  He took it in his good hand, it was covered with blood, mostly his own.  “Oh, silly!” she yelped, chiding either him or herself, and yanking the shirt back.<br/><br/>“What, this?” Hale asked, lifting the growing stump of arm up.  Even as he did, the end was bulging and clearly a hand would grow out of the silently elongating, pink and brown lump.  “yeah…”<br/><br/>“No, no…” she said, quickly, if quietly, cutting him off.  “The fighting… up there,” she turned her gaze toward the roof of the rattling train car.  “It was so… brutal.”<br/><br/>“Yeah!” Hale said a little too loudly.  “Put up a good fight din’cha, Victor?” he said, giving the vampire at his feet a good kick.  It was easier to mock his dead opponent than to look at Virginia and see the pain and concern in her eyes.  “But why?” he said again, wanting to get back to the point.<br/><br/>Virginia sighed and looked at the floor.  But the dead Victor could not or would not be ignored, so she looked out the window.  The black emptiness of the Alleghany countryside made a mirror of the glass so she finally looked back to Hale.  “He was old, very old and… very evil.  I’m sorry-”<br/><br/>“No,” said Hale, cutting her off, now.  “It’s my… job to be in harm’s way.  Don’t worry about me,” he added, not wanting to touch upon that particular emotion.  And yet, “I’m just worried about you.”<br/><br/>“He was very old-” she started to repeat herself.<br/>“You’re 263, last I counted.  I don’t even know how old I am.  How old is old?”<br/>“You’re 137,” she whispered.<br/><br/>“Yeah, well,” Hale said quietly, unable to bring himself to ask her if she was still willing to kill for the cause – her cause.<br/><br/>“No, no,” Virginia said, more conversationally, “besides his innate strength, he probably had some magic at his disposal.”<br/><br/>“Should I send some people to go over his lair?  Maybe there’s a grimoire or…”<br/><br/>“No, his underlings will have already cleared the place out – and kept the best for themselves,” she dismissed the plan.<br/><br/>“Damn Hydra, this bunch,” Hale complained.  “Whatta you reckon I do with old Vic, here?” he asked, giving the shriveled old corpse another kick.<br/>“Emma Place is among those meeting us on the platform.  You will debark and bring her on the train while I keep the cabin occupied.<br/><br/>“Yes, ma’am,” Hale answered curtly.  Once his new hand had grown sufficiently enough to use, he took off his tattered jacket and shirt, used them to wipe away most of the blood and then dressed in a clean shirt and jacket.<br/><br/>“I know how you feel about her,” she said.  She wondered if the man had any idea how painful it was for her to even utter those words.  “I promise you, Hale, she can do this, it will not hurt her.”<br/><br/>Hale literally growled.  He didn’t want to let loose the words that came to mind.<br/>Virginia leaned forward and laid her hand atop Hale’s right hand.  Not the new left hand – that would have been just too creepy.  The man sighed and seemed to calm down immensely.