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“It’s been a long day, you should all get some rest. You deserve it.”
The younger trailblazers slowly shuffle out of the parlor car and back toward their rooms, offering small smiles that don’t quite reach their eyes. Even Pom-Pom heads off to get the Express ready to warp, leaving only Welt and Himeko in the near-silent room.
“You should take your own advice, you know.” Himeko says, giving a knowing look.
She doesn’t wait for any kind of agreement, knowing full well she won’t get any. Instead, she merely pats Welt’s arm before following the same path as the others and heading back to her own room.
Only when Welt is alone does he finally allow himself to breathe. He drops his head back and stares at the lines on the ceiling, letting out a sigh from a place deeper than his lungs. Exhaustion follows shortly behind, but the idea of being alone feels like suffocation.
Welt isn’t quite sure what pulls him to the party car, but before he’s truly processed it, he’s taking a seat at the counter. His glasses are tossed somewhat haphazardly onto the bar, and he rubs his eyes in a futile attempt to soothe the persistent headache that has lingered for days now. Sleep would probably take care of it, he realizes, but the idea is too unappealing right now.
Seconds later, Shush scoots over from where it was putting some freshly-washed glassware away, offering its usual cheerful greeting.
“Hello there! What can I get you? A drink? Or maybe a joke?”
“No jokes tonight, Shush. Just a drink. Whatever you have.”
“That’s too bad!” It says, looking rather disappointed, “But one drink, coming right up!”
Welt doesn’t bother watching Shush make the drink, not caring what’s in it as long as it’s strong. He shouldn’t be doing this, is better than this. It isn’t healthy, nor is it truly effective. Some form of misplaced guilt tries to take hold. That’s nothing new. It’s immediately silenced. Right now he doesn’t care.
“Here you go!” Shush says, enthusiasm shattering the mood once again.
The drink looks unassuming, merely clear liquid and an oversized cube of perfectly transparent ice in a squat glass. One sip reveals that it’s both incredibly spicy and almost entirely pure liquor. Did Shush think that Welt needed something this strong? Or was it merely retribution for being denied the opportunity to tell one of its awful jokes?
“Enjoy~!” Shush chirps as Welt coughs.
The second sip isn’t nearly as bad now that he knows what to expect. At any rate, it’s drinkable and almost certain to help silence his brain. As Shush goes back to its work, Welt lays his head down on the counter.
Not every Trailblaze mission can go well. Logically, Welt knows this. At the end of the day, each of the crew members survived relatively unscathed and the Express data logs are full of new information that might help someone in the future. It’s all they can ask for, but it’s still not enough.
They couldn’t save anyone.
The planet they’d visited, in the midst of a hostile IPC takeover, had nothing to offer but an unforgiving icy climate and an excess of violence and political unrest.
The Express crew had done their best to help. They’d offered food and supplies to those being displaced by the IPC, stepped between loaded guns and innocent civilians, argued with the planet’s heads of power to fight back.
Still, people died in the street. Resources dwindled along with morale as the IPC gained power. The planet’s citizens suffered as their leaders made deals with the IPC to keep themselves safe. And ultimately, the Astral Express was asked to leave under threat of assured destruction.
The choice to step away felt impossible. Months of effort and lost sleep wasted. Did they even make a difference?
Welt takes another sip of his drink, longer this time, uncaring about the way it burns. There’s no escaping the exhaustion now, no ignoring the past months’ effects on himself in favor of trying to help someone else. Even the planet’s glacial chill hasn’t relented despite the comforting warmth offered by the Express. The counter becomes a pillow again when the glass is empty, and Welt waves Shush over again for a refill.
It says nothing this time, merely watching him with its bright green eye. Somehow, Welt feels eerily scrutinized by the robot now that it isn’t cracking jokes.
“I’m fine.” He tells it, though it doesn’t ask.
It still says nothing, remaining uncharacteristically silent as it places another drink on the counter.
This one is downed more quickly, though it makes Welt cough again and his eyes water.
Shush is already prepared with another by the time the second glass is empty.
“Thanks.”
Deciding that chugging the second one hadn’t been overly pleasant, Welt goes back to drinking more slowly, laying his head down between sips. He’s beyond tired, but he’s sure he’ll dream if he sleeps, and that’s worse. The dreams dredge up things he’d rather forget when he’s stressed, and lately has been no exception. Still, he can’t escape it forever. He’s not usually one to drink when he’s troubled, but sometimes it’s the best way to force his brain to be silent. The alcohol is making his cheeks flush despite still feeling cold, but at least he’s getting a little reprieve from his overthinking. It’s the perfect balance between drunk and sober, the tightrope of being tipsy allowing him to still be in control while his hissing mind is placated.
It isn’t healthy, but it helps.
By the time the third glass is empty, Welt has decided he’s had enough. He still doesn’t want to leave, so he just lingers, halfway watching the ice melt in the three empty glasses. Eventually he just shuts his eyes completely; the headache hasn’t abated and neither has the chill, but Welt has lost any motivation to fix either issue.
He’s just tired. Mentally, physically, emotionally, it feels like he has nothing left to give.
Time blurs into a haze along with everything else. Welt doesn’t quite sleep, but he isn’t fully aware either. Distantly, he hears Shush completing its usual tasks. Sometimes it seems like it makes up things to do just to look busy. The small amount of noise is welcome though, keeping the oppressive silence away.
Even when footsteps approach the bar counter, Welt doesn’t bother to move from his spot. He can’t quite place who they belong to without opening his eyes, but that’s simply too much effort when he’s already feeling so worn down. He intends to ignore them completely, hoping he’s not being too horribly rude, until he’s greeted by a familiar voice.
“Hello, old friend.”
Welt freezes, convinced he’s having auditory hallucinations for the split second until he opens his eyes and reaches for his glasses. Void Archives is already perched on the next seat, holding out the glasses like a gift. He smiles brightly, but there’s something unreadable in those green eyes of his.
“What are you doing here?” Welt asks, nearly snatching his glasses back.
Void Archives, infuriatingly, doesn’t answer.
“Aw, what, not happy to see me? It’s been a while. What have you been getting into, Herrscher? You look terrible.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“And you’re not answering mine.”
Welt sighs, irritated, and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“…Our last mission didn’t end well.” He finally answers.
A slightly more serious look crosses Void Archives’ face.
“Happy, Archives? Now why are you here?”
“Who else is going to take care of you?”
“I don’t need to be taken care of.”
“Please. Have you seen yourself?” Void Archives laughs incredulously.
“I’m fine.”
“You were sleeping on the bar.”
“I wasn’t asleep.”
“You should be.”
“No.”
“Is this what’s become of you in my absence? Aren’t you supposed to be infallible?”
Welt glares at him.
“And you’re supposed to be a shiny box. Yet here we are.”
“Point taken.” Void Archives says with an amused huff. “Still, I meant what I said. You look terrible.”
“Stop acting like you care.” Welt snaps at him, crossing his arms across the counter and laying his head back down on them. It’s petulant and he knows it, but he’s not in the mood for the sort of chaos his companion tends to bring with him.
Void Archives has the gall to look annoyed. “I don’t care about much. You fall outside that category.”
Welt doesn’t have a good response for that, so he doesn’t.
“I’m not completely heartless. So are you going to let me take care of you or not?”
“You’ve never taken care of anyone a day in your life.” Welt tells him flatly.
“So?” Void Archives retorts, annoyed, before calming his voice into something a bit softer. “Anything for you. But only for you.”
Welt just sighs, long and thoroughly worn out. He’ll never admit that not having to take care of himself for once feels so beyond needed. The idea of someone else dealing with the mental fatigue, the headache, the bone-deep cold, the complete and total exhaustion feels unattainable. Not that he’d ever ask anyway. Himeko has chastised him for that exact thing multiple times in the past, once saying he’d have to be dying on the floor before he asked for help. At the time, Welt had disagreed with her. Currently, he fears she may have been right. He can’t recall the last time he truly felt worse than he does right now, yet he has no intention of doing anything about it.
If he just falls asleep at the counter, so be it.
“You’re ridiculous.” Void Archives says so quietly that Welt isn’t positive he was meant to hear it.
A moment later a hand meets his forehead, far more gentle than he ever would’ve expected. He should protest, should pull away, but he doesn’t. The touch is cool against flushed skin, and he finds himself leaning into it by accident.
Void Archives lets out a sigh that sounds almost tired.
“You’re feverish.” He says, unsurprised.
“I’ve been drinking.” Welt mutters back.
“That’s not from the alcohol and you know it. You’ve pushed yourself well past your limit and you’re exhausted. You’re sick.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
Silence.
“If you want me to leave, say so.”
Silence.
“That’s what I thought.” Void Archives stands from his seat and holds out a hand. “Come on. Can you stand or do you expect me to carry you?”
Welt finally sits up, albeit slowly, and levels Void Archives with a withering glare.
“You are not carrying me.”
Void Archives just shrugs, nonchalant. “Just an offer. Let’s go, I know you’re tired.”
There’s no arguing with that. Welt gets up from his seat at the counter, thoroughly unprepared for the wave of lightheadedness that hits him when he does. Though between the sleep deprivation, the alcohol, and the fever that he’d suspected but adamantly ignored, it shouldn’t have been a surprise.
“Easy, Herrscher.” Void Archives catches him when he almost collapses on the spot.
Thankfully the dizziness begins to subside, but not before Void Archives is already scooping him into his arms.
“Ah! Archives! Put me down right now!”
“No~”
“You insufferable bastard, put me down!” Welt protests, squirming.
“I asked you if you could stand and you couldn’t, so now you’re stuck with me. Deal with it.”
Welt glares at him again, squirming once more for good measure. Void Archives merely holds him tighter and smiles in a way that would probably look innocent on anyone else’s face.
As they make their way through the train cars, Welt is infinitely glad that everyone else is already asleep. He could've walked just fine on his own if he’d been given a minute. It’s already embarrassing enough to be carried; the last thing he wants to do is explain why. Much less having to explain Void Archives’ presence, which is as confusing to him as it would be to everyone else.
“Why are you here?” Welt asks again, calmer now.
“I told you, Herrscher. I’m here to take care of you.”
“How did you even know?”
The question is met with an awkward look and silence just long enough to put the pieces together.
“…Shush is a tattletale.”
Void Archives at least has the decency to look mildly embarrassed.
“…Yeah.”
“I should’ve known you wouldn’t actually leave.” Welt tells him, unamused.
“What do you want me to say, that I didn’t care what happened to any of you once I was gone?”
“That’s what I would’ve expected you to say, yes.”
“Well then you expected wrong.”
There’s a more serious look on Void Archives’ face now, almost as if he’s actually bothered by the assumption that he no longer cared about his previous companions aboard the Astral Express. It’s surprising, but Welt lacks the energy to dig any more into it at the moment. Tired of arguing, he merely rests his head tentatively on Void Archives’ shoulder and allows himself to be taken back to his room.
Thankfully, once they get there Void Archives puts him down. All Welt wants to do is shower and sleep, and hopefully wake up feeling better than he does currently. He quickly grabs some comfortable clothes from the dresser before heading for the connected bathroom.
“I’ll be right back.”
Welt shuts the door behind him, trying to ignore the way the enclosed space starts to make him feel trapped. He usually leaves it open when he’s stressed like this; somehow, even that helps to keep his mind quieter. Instead, he turns on the speaker and plays music at a volume that almost hurts but drowns out everything else.
When it’s quiet is when things get bad.
The shower is turned up as hot as Welt can tolerate it, and he just sits on the floor for a while, leaning heavily against the wall. He’s hoping it will warm him up, maybe help him feel a little better or provide some much-needed energy, but it doesn’t.
Gradually, full awareness begins to come back as the effects of the alcohol from earlier wear off. With sobriety returns that currently inescapable voice in Welt’s head. The one he usually manages to keep at bay, the one he’s scared of, the one that tells him he’s done something wrong even when he knows he hasn’t.
Did he do the right thing on that planet? Were his motivations in the right place? Did he say something he shouldn’t have? Did he drink too much just now? Has he been too much? Was the way he’s been acting the past couple of hours genuine or just a manipulative cry for attention? Is—
Eventually, there’s a knock at the door.
“Did you die in there?” Void Archives asks, barely audible over the music.
“No. Be right out.”
“Just checking. Take your time.”
Welt is tired of sitting on the floor anyway. He drags himself up and through the motions, letting muscle memory take over. Every movement feels heavy and delayed like he’s moving in slow motion. By the time he gets out and checks the clock on his phone, over an hour has passed.
The mirror is too fogged to see anything, but Welt doesn’t bother wiping it off. He already knows he looks awful anyway, Void Archives already told him as much.
He finally steps out of the bathroom a few minutes later, dressed in soft, warm clothes and wanting nothing more than to collapse into bed and sleep for a year.
Void Archives has already made himself thoroughly at home, helping himself to both some comfortable clothes and the other side of the bed. He’s relaxing against the headboard, scrolling on his phone like this is nothing out of the ordinary.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“What, do you want me to sleep on the floor? Besides, you’re cold aren’t you? I’m much warmer than just your blankets.”
“Do you even need to sleep?”
Void Archives just shrugs.
“Fine. I’m too tired to argue with you. But if you kick me in your sleep I’m pushing you onto the floor.”
Welt flops down on his side of the bed with a long sigh. Before he gets too comfortable, he goes to rummage through the drawer of his bedside table for some medicine to help with his headache and fever. To his surprise, the bottle is already out, four pills lined up beside a fresh glass of water. He stares at them, momentarily confused, before glancing back at Void Archives. He just shrugs, not even bothering to look up from his phone.
“Thanks.”
“It was nothing.” Half a second later he glances over, a look of mild disgust on his face. “If you’re thanking me for that, you really don’t let anyone help you, do you?”
“Leave it alone, Archives.”
Void Archives puts his hands up in mock surrender but rolls his eyes.
Finally, Welt lies down, putting his glasses on the bedside table and curling up under the blankets. He expects to fall asleep almost instantly, but his mind begins to race the moment he shuts his eyes. He shifts once, then twice, then back to his original position trying to silence the anxiety before Void Archives interrupts his squirming.
“What are you doing?”
Welt huffs at him. “Trying to get comfortable.”
“Do you need something? Are you hungry? Do you want another blanket?”
“No.”
“Want a hug?”
“No!” Welt snaps at him, sitting up and burying his face in his hands. “I just need this to stop.”
“I’m sorry.” Void Archives says quietly after a long moment. “Is it the same as before?”
Welt just nods, not looking up.
“Verbal processing helps you.”
It’s so much, but…
“Talk to me, Welt.”
So he does.
For a while, they sit cross-legged on the bed like teenagers while Welt dumps out the contents of his mind. Void Archives doesn’t say much, just listens quietly as Welt tells him about the planet they’d visited; about the IPC and their cruelty, the systematic corruption, the way the citizens had banded together to help each other even in the face of true evil. A true encapsulation of humanity at its best and worst.
A few tears fall at one point. It’s embarrassing, but Void Archives doesn’t bring attention to it. He’s one of the few people Welt has confided in enough to explain how cruel his mind can be. The way exhaustion and stress can lead to wild overthinking and compulsive spirals that are almost impossible to silence. Most days he’s fine, but when he isn’t, it’s bad. Even when he’s done his best, sometimes it just isn’t enough.
Eventually, after what feels like too much talking, the weight has lifted somewhat. It could still return, lurking somewhere just out of reach, but for now blissful calm has taken its place. Welt takes a deep breath, finally feeling like he’ll be able to sleep.
Void Archives hands him the glass of water. Welt takes it gladly, taking a few long sips before handing it back.
“Lie down. You need rest.”
It’s true, Welt feels even more exhausted than he had earlier. Dispelling some of the mental weight had been worth it, but at the cost of feeling worse in every other regard. He relents, letting his head hit the pillow once more and burying himself under the covers. Void Archives’ hand returns to his forehead a moment later.
“Well that’s gotten higher.” He mutters, likely more talking to himself than making conversation.
With a sigh, Void Archives gets up to put a couple of extra blankets on the bed, then brings back a damp cloth from the bathroom. He settles himself into bed, sitting up against the headboard like he had been earlier before pulling Welt close to his side. Welt can’t help but relax into the added warmth. Void Archives wraps an arm around him, holding the damp cloth against his forehead so it doesn’t fall.
“Thank you, Void.” He says, voice soft and tired.
“Feeling a little better? At least in comparison to pretending Shush is a therapist?”
Welt nods, opting for the simplest explanation he can manage.
“Everything is just too heavy.”
“Then put it down.”
“You know I can’t.”
“Then let me carry it.”
Welt glances up to give Void Archives an unamused look, only to find him being completely serious.
“I mean it.” He says, quieter this time. “Let me carry the weight of the world for now.”
Welt wants to protest. Should protest. Now he’s made his own problems someone else’s. Unacceptable. He’s not weak, doesn’t have a breaking point, isn’t—
“Stop.”
Silence.
“I can hear you overthinking from here. Is it always so loud in your head?”
The question serves more as a reminder.
“No.”
“Right. Then you know it shouldn’t be now.”
Welt sighs, exhausted, lingering tendrils of guilt trying yet again to find something to latch onto. He shakes his head to dispel them. It works, at least for now. He takes a deep breath and lies back down.
“Better.” Void Archives dares to give Welt an endeared grin, pulling the blankets higher.
“Now rest. Your humanity is showing.”
Welt gives him a halfhearted glare before shutting his eyes.
“That’s because I am.”
A pause, and then, nearly a whisper.
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Epilogue:
It’s well past noon by the time Himeko realizes she hasn’t so much as heard a peep from anyone else all morning. She knows that Pom-Pom is likely still busy, but food would’ve usually lured the others to the kitchen by now.
She takes the last sips of her fourth cup of coffee before heading down the corridor to check on everyone. Peeking into March’s room first reveals a lucky guess. March, Dan Heng, Caelus, and Sunday have somehow all scrunched themselves into her bed for a much-needed sleepover. Every last one of them is still dead to the world, snoring away peacefully.
Himeko can’t help but snap a quick photo before closing the door silently behind her. She continues on her journey down the hall to check on Welt. He hadn’t looked like he was doing very well the night before, so she’s a little worried. Hopefully he’s also just catching up from a lack of sleep.
She knocks quietly like she had on March’s door, and after getting no response peeks her head in. She’s greeted by long blonde hair and a pair of piercing green eyes that look up to peer at her over the pages of a half-read book.
Void Archives.
Instantly furious, Himeko swings the door open wider to demand answers, only to stop when Void Archives quickly puts the book down to press a finger to his lips. A quick tilt of his head draws Himeko's attention down, and she finally notices. Welt is sound asleep tucked against Void Archives’ side, cheekbones flushed and wrapped in several extra blankets.
Himeko’s expression softens instantly, finally understanding. She’s still confused as to where Void Archives came from and why he’s back on the Express—not to mention how he got on board in the first place—but she’ll let it go. Welt clearly needs to rest, and if Void Archives is making that happen, then she’ll tolerate him for the moment.
The only time Himeko has ever appreciated Void Archives’ presence is right now.
She turns to leave, almost fully out of the room before pausing, unable to resist. Knowing that Void Archives won’t be able to protest without disturbing Welt, she snaps another picture before slipping out and quietly shutting the door.
Lost in her own amusement, Himeko almost jumps out of her skin when Pom-Pom seemingly materializes behind her.
“It’s starting to get a little crowded in here, isn’t it?”