Cesare watched through the window of the train as they rolled into the station in Las Vegas. It was evening and the lights of the city were just beginning to project their familiar neon hues into the sky. Nikki was leaned against his shoulder; she'd been asleep since they entered the desert. Now as the train stopped, Cesare did his best to remain still so as not to disturb her. A few passengers made their way onto the train. Their figures passing by the windows of their box as they searched for their compartments.

The sun cast an orange glow against the opposite wall of their cabin as it set. Cesare leaned towards the door as far as he could to pull the blinds of the door's window. As he turned the lock on the door in preparation for night, he overextended and Nikki's head rocked forward causing her to awaken suddenly,

"Sorry, doll, I didn't mean to wake you." He said as he leaned back over to offer his shoulder again. She smiled as she replaced her head.

The train finished its loading and began the slow lurch eastward. Passengers continued their shuffle back towards the cabins. Shadows passed over the blinds on the door.

Then the blinds darkened and the handle on the door twisted, catching on the lock. Unable to enter, the gruff voice inquired from outside,

"Mr. Torretta?"

Cesare was immediately suspicious and unceremoniously rocked Nikki towards the end of their bench, squaring his shoulders towards the door and reaching into his jacket to retrieve his pistol. When it was in hand, he raised it towards the window and answered,

"Yes?"

It was silent for a second.

Then a shower of glass filled the cabin as the sound of gunfire filled the air.

The concussive blast inside the closed quarters was deafening. Still groggy from her nap, Nikki turned her head just in time to feel a slight tug as the bullet blew past Cesare's face and burned through strands of her hair. She turned her head and saw a smoking hole in the cabin wall not one inch from the window, and had the immediate thought that had it actually shred through the glass, they may have had an escape.

Grabbing her husband's arm, she jerked him to the floor while reaching behind her and pulling her gun from the back of her pants. Her brain was trying to process this development; whoever had fired through the door had asked for Cesare, which made no sense. He had no known enemies...as a former Don and crew leader of Chicago, Nikki had plenty.

She turned to face him then, trying to ascertain his take on the situation. He seemed about as confused as she, so she gave up that train of thought and started in with hand signals.

The shooter would expect them to be on the defensive. The Torrettas would be quashing that.

Pointing at Cesare, she then pointed upwards, and followed through with a point to the right. You go high, then take right. With a point at herself, she pointed down, then made a twisting motion with her hand, then pointed left. I'm going low, and opening the door, and going left. After a hesitation and then a nod, Cesare pulled his own weapon and moved towards the side of the door while Nikki crawled across the threshold and settled into a squat, her back pressed against the wall as she reached up for the door handle. Her fingers quietly disengaged the lock, and as they rested on the handle and began to turn it, she winked at her husband and threw the door open. 

Cesare thrust himself around the door as it opened with his gun raised but found himself comically colliding with the assailant who hadn't moved clear of the doorway himself and tumbling to the floor of the car. His gun slid out of his grasp and clattered to the floor near them. Cesare instead attempted to pin the man's own gun above his head. The struggle for the firearm began as the man viciously lashed out with his free arm at Cesare's face, obstructing his vision. He could hear Nikki firing at what he guessed was a second assailant behind him.

Finally Cesare was able to wrestle the gun pointed towards the man's head before he yelled out,

"NO! CESARE! IT'S ME!"

The voice froze Cesare cold. He finally let his eyes focus on the face. It was Thomas.

Thomas, the boy who'd helped Cesare knock over Nikki's courier so long ago. He'd been pinched and Cesare had paid to have him release when he left for Chicago. Here he was, gun in hand, trying to kill him. He'd grown up since the last time Cesare had seen him.

As the shock faded, Cesare gave him one swift jab to the face which caused him to release his gun. He stumbled to his feet and scooped his own gun off the floor before wheeling around again in disbelief at the situation...

Nikki knelt over the body of the second assailant, riffling through his vest and pants pockets and tossing the contents aside before standing. A quick glance up and down the hallway showed no passengers roaming the hallways yet; they were either deafened by the sounds of the wheels clacking along the tracks accompanied by the occasional whistles at the crossroads, or they were cowering in their quarters. Nikki quickly moved to the nearest connecting doors and pulled them open, jamming them temporarily in the open position with one of her high heels. Limping awkwardly back to the body, she began the slow process of dragging it down the remainder of the hallway and through the door, then unceremoniously kicking it over the side of the train as it passed through the remaining outskirts of the inhabitable parts of Nevada. Pausing to catch her breath, she gazed at the receding lights of neon Vegas, grasping the hand railing and thinking about how easy life had been when she'd lived there under Angy.

Shaking herself out of her reverie, she returned down the hallway, scooping up the dead man's detritus and gun as she passed and once again entering the car she'd been sharing with Cesare. A young man lay on the floor, alive, while Cesare stood above him, uncertainly on his face.

"Friend of yours, Lover?" She asked, leaning against the door frame, her voice at ease and humorous while her eyes remained sharp and her hand stayed steady on the gun she'd slid into her waistband over her left hip.

Cesare wanted to strangle him and hug him at the same time. Rage boiling over from the danger he'd placed Nikki in mingled with the nostalgia of an old face left him in an odd state of inactivity. He struggled to make himself explain to her.

"Nikki.." he motioned towards the young man on the floor with his pistol, "This is Thomas Freeman..."

He could tell by the inquisitive tilt in her head, that she would need more than that to recognize the man.

"This is the kid that got pinched with your courier's money in Vegas."

He looked down at him wondering at how much people could change. What had happened to make this old Vegas youth try to kill him?

Nikki's brow creased in confusion before realization hit and it smoothed back out again. 

"The...the kid? The one who took the fall??" She queried, looking from Cesare to Tommy and back again. Cesare looked to be the only one more perplexed than she.

"But why..." Realizing that she was directing the question at the wrong person, she looked back at Tommy again. "Why? Why on earth would you come after someone who looked after you?" She asked, her voice rising. Nothing that had happened today had angered her...this did.

"Do you honestly think you were set up or something?!? This man gave you work when you were nothing but a street urchin! It's not his fault you were caught! In fact, he spent good money getting you out!!" She yelled down at him, half tempted to kick the shit out of him. She looked back up at Cesare, trying to read his thoughts. Was this one worth saving? Or was it best to throw him out the door as well, to join his cohort?

Thomas seemed to shrink under Nikki, nearly curling into himself.

"I-I-I didn't... Mr. Giordano told me.."

"Who?!" Cesare bellowed, finally snapping out of the fog he'd slipped into.

Thomas turned to him, "Giordano... he came to the jail after everything went to shit and said he'd paid to get me out!" he was speaking rapidly, hoping that the amount of words he spewed forth would be in measure with the amount of time he had to live, "You were gone and he set up a small crew on the Strip..."

"Rodrigo Giordano FUCKING KILLED MY BROTHER, Thomas!" Cesare screamed pointing his gun at the man on the floor.

"Oh CHRIST Cesare! I'm sorry! I didn't know! Don't shoot me!" he squealed in pained moans, "Cesare! I'll do anything! Don't kill me!"

Even now, Cesare had a pang of pity run through his chest as he looked down the sights of his gun into the face of the starry-eyed Vegas youth like it was the day he was arrested. Suddenly Cesare dropped to a knee and grabbed Thomas' collar,

"That's right, Thomas... you're going to take me to see Rodrigo myself, and you're going to help me kill him."