A/N: For the lovely pragtastic on tumblr, using a combination of the prompts "danger ahead", "sacrifice", "no way out", "rejection", "magic", and "do not disturb." Title shamelessly stolen from A Song of Ice and Fire. The world needs more Erik/Magda.

Don't touch me. Magda hands grubby coins over one by one to the man with the vicious-looking moustache, careful not to accidentally brush their hands together, careful not to let the sleeves of her coral-colored, smoke-stained sweater ride up. Careful. He smiles at her when he hands her the ticket, breaking one off from the end of a long coil. It's a tight, predatory smile, because she's pretty and young and lost. She's not lost enough to fall for that, though, so she averts her eyes and sits on the furthest end of the furthest bench, holding her knees to her chest and trembling. What's wrong with you? The train rattles and shakes as she boards, and she can feel herself shaking too, remembering. But she has to leave, she has to go far away and find a place where she can be alone, where Max can't find her. She wants Max to find her, to take her off this death contraption and home to their cramped little room and their daughter and all their broken dreams. She wants him to hold her hand as tight as a vice and choke out all their fears and tears into each other all the long horrible ride. The metal of the wheels clicking against rails sound like death, a long time ago and now, when her Max brought shrapnel from above like unholy rain. Stay away from me. When her stomach rebels against her, she stumbles to her feet and runs. Kneeling in the cramped toilet room, she retches and coughs, tears starting in her eyes. She thinks it's fear, and sadness, but when the train pulls away and the days go by and she still can't keep food down, she knows it's something else.