Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I'd like to thank everyone who's contributed their knowledge to the Galactarchive, and their art to keeping Galactaron alive—this story wouldn't be possible if not for your passion and creativity!

Thank you 凌危贊 of Shiranui Editorial (@shiranuieditorial on tumblr + Instagram) for our many conversations on the quest to realize Emily's full name, ethnic identity, and gender identity—which in the process led to discovering/developing vital parts of her backstory on Earth. Your input and linguistic advice has been invaluable!

🪞

liminal grace 🦋 (eclosure) was written for the Infinity Train Big Bang 2024 and based on a story of mine from 2020. Thank you Yellow for arranging this event, and Yellow, Addae, and Malaxis for beta reading chapter one.

The first illustration featured in chapter one was created by Addae (@oakwolves on Twitter and tumblr, @doodle_dae on Instagram, and author of Train Chasers).

The second illustration featured in chapter one was created by Kiyo (@kiyotea on tumblr).

Thank you to all who contributed to this story's pilot! In a sense, it's been 4 years in the making, and I couldn't be happier with how it came out.

Chapter Text

It got in.

     This fact obliterated any semblance of sense Grace had clung onto moments before; the typical thrill of taking down a Null was, in itself, rendered null by the reveal of their adversary. Grace's stomach teemed with butterflies. A familiar threat had infiltrated the base, and she was determined to apprehend—not incapacitate—it. This monster, albeit deadly, was a lead in a mystery older than the Apex itself; it was the first denizen she had ever run from... and the indirect initiator of first contact with the Conductor.

     She and Simon knelt upon the bridge above the mall, surveying the Steward from what they presumed was a safe vantage point. Below, the steely robot slithered across the concourse, dipping in and out of obsolete shops—seemingly searching for something. The rest of the Apex was dispersed throughout the car, hidden in some of the stores behind metal barriers. Grace and Simon had trained them for lockdowns, lest a hostile denizen or passenger ever breach the entrance (or the exit) of the car. 

     This thing had slipped inside nigh unnoticed overnight, but there had been sightings of it before. During recent raids, a white face with hollow eyes—in part obscured by the virtual environment—impressed itself upon their psyches. Some of the kids would liken it to an Internet phenomenon back home: a suited man with a blank visage. Others would seek guidance and comfort from Grace and Simon, the former of whom would feign a smile and assure them they were safe, while the latter's paranoia was hardly assuaged by her façade. 

     Now, their respective fears stalked, reified, through their sanctuary. It never stopped long enough for them to get a good look, but it resembled an assemblage of silvery snakes, with the occasional flash of a pearly white face. Grace's split-second glimpses of this brought to mind her own golden raid mask. As she bore witness to the mysterious Steward, her stomach sank, for in her haste to address the threat, she'd neglected to don her disguise. It could recognize me, she thought. It had been so many years... and yet why else would it be here if not to finish the job? This was no emissary of her Great Pumpkin—beloved Conductor—but a snake in the brush, driven to fiery tears by a pilot's lament. It was a beast and it had to be killed. All nostalgic associations aside, Grace bitterly discarded the notion of it meaning any more than certain doom. And yet, the way it maneuvered itself may have resembled a bastardized ballet...

     "What do you think it wants?" whispered Simon, keeping his eyes locked on the monster. Grace shook her head, mesmerized by the Steward's elegant, unusual movements.

     "It's beautiful. It's... terrible." Grace was frigid as her body recalled the ache in her legs and the throb of her heart in her chest as she'd stumbled through the pumpkin patch, the Steward swiftly in tow. Like some sort of demented dancer, its own sick brand of grace had made the prodigy ballerina feel clumsy in comparison. Clumsy... and helpless.

     A surefire terror seized Grace, and she held fast to the railing to steady herself. Simon's attention was momentarily diverted by the onset of her panic attack.

     "Grace! Are you—?!"

     Too late did he realize the folly of his outcry; no sooner had he addressed her did the Steward take notice of their presence. There came a series of soft scratches upon the floor—this crescendoed to a scurry, and then all went quiet as it ascended. That hollow face rose like the crest of a wave to their level, buoyed by a tide of metallic tentacles; eyes ablaze with awful, azure fire. Its copious arms took the form of a cobra's hood flare; the Steward's intent was clear. From here, the outermost appendages fanned out, and the rest followed suit in a splay akin to the rays of a star—or the web of a spider. Grace's mind was stunned into silence, and she softly fell away.

     "GRACE!!!" Simon rushed to the aid of his unconscious friend, but the Steward caught his ankle in its claw and dragged him back. As he futilely scrambled toward Grace, the tentacle coiled its way up his leg, jerking him into the air, suspending him upside-down.

     "RETURN TO YOUR SEAT."

     "LET ME GO, NULL!!!"

     The Steward promptly released him. Though he'd twisted in an effort to avoid a head-on collision, Simon's impact with the bridge resulted in a nauseating crunch; thereafter, he too lay still. With the leaders subdued, the Steward slunk off toward the exit of the car.

🎃

     Tulip's heart skipped a beat as she beheld the mark on the door. Having been scribed in black spray paint by what she presumed was a human hand, it beckoned to her in an eerie sort of way...

     "What does that symbol mean, Miss Tulip?" queried Glad-One from upon her shoulder. 

     "I could ask you the same thing..."

     She ran her gloved right hand over what appeared to be the letter A, with a squiggle drawn through the middle to signify a mountain's peak. No other car carried such a glaring external discrepancy as this; no other car bore a warning. A brief recollection of the turtle car catastrophe prompted Tulip to shoot her spherical friend a worried glance.

     "Maaaybe you should sit this one out. It might be best if you just... don't see this car."

     "Good idea; if you need me, I'll be taking a nap... in your knapsack!"

     "It's a backpack," Tulip corrected, hesitating to cynically note that robots couldn't sleep. She'd become endeared to One-One's nonsense, and preferred to play along for his sake. "Atticus, you stay close to me, okay?"

     The corgi king responded with a solemn nod. "Whatever awaits us inside, we shall face together. Division may endanger us..." The car with the turtles was just as fresh in his mind as Tulip's, and despite the friend he'd made there, he repented their team's brief schism, which had left One-One to his own devices.

     Tulip exhaled and set her hands upon the gilded spliced-lemniscate knob. "Alright, guys; brace yourselves." A metallic swish gave way to the entrance of a mall.

     Something here was fundamentally wrong. True to their initial misgivings, this car was not remotely in working order. While a lack of denizens wasn't unusual in itself, their absence from this particular context was conspicuous. Malls were supposed to be rife with people, but the liminal emptiness here was enough to make Tulip's hair stand on end. Atticus assumed an air of courage, but he too was put off by the uncanny car. Tulip thought to call out, then thought better of it. Together, they stepped through the door.

     It was only when they passed by a storefront barred by security gates that Tulip encountered her first sign of life. From the darkness of its depths emerged a girl in a red jacket, her dark brown hair held in two long ponytails. She stuck her hand through a gap in the bars and gestured for them to approach. Upon doing so, Tulip couldn't help but notice an odd marking on her face—like the squiggle on the door—but any queries as to its origin and meaning were cut short as the girl put a finger to her lips.

     "It's not safe out in the open," she whispered. "You should get inside with us. We've got room still—I think. Your dog too. Wait, does he talk?"

     Tulip exchanged a glance with Atticus. "That's... an odd thing for you to ask."

     The girl shrugged. "Sorry, standard procedure; you're not part of the Apex, and we don't like talking dogs, or any Nulls you stragglers drag in here. Actually, we don't get many stragglers. You're our first one I think!"

     "Oh, um... sorry? For intruding, I mean." The girl's eyes never left Atticus; she looked conflicted. Desperate. 

     "You like dogs?" Tulip said. With tears in her eyes, the girl nodded.

     "I haven't seen Angel in a while now. He's a corgi too. Doesn't talk either. Then again... I don't think I could... you know... if yours did. He doesn't talk, right?"

     Atticus turned to Tulip, and gave a subtle shake of his head. With her heart in her throat, Tulip mustered a lie. "No, he doesn't talk. Just your average dog." To her relief, all semblance of despair left the girl's face. "Can I pet him?" she asked. Atticus rolled onto his back before Tulip could think of a response, and the girl dropped to her knees and reached through the bars to give him a belly rub. Tulip sighed as all tensions evaporated. "We want to get out of here as soon as possible. Do you guys know where the exit door is?"

     The girl's eyes became unnaturally cold. "You can't go; not with that thing out there." She gripped the bottom of the gate and lifted it up a foot or so. "Get in with us, or die. It'll get you if you don't. Grace said it's one of them: a Null. She and Simon are gonna destroy it."

     "Do you know what it looks like? I've sort of fought weird monsters before. Maybe I can help."

     "Your funeral," said the girl with a shrug. "Just... let us take your dog; that thing will rip it to shreds." A sense of softness returned to her eyes; another desperation.

     "Uh... lemme think it over for a moment. Could you maybe give us some space?"

     "Fine, but be snappy!" said the girl, lowering the gate with care. When she'd receded into the dark, Tulip leant down to speak to Atticus.

     "I get the feeling there's something Really Bad in here. This is the first sign of other people we've had this whole time, but they're all... hiding. We have to get out of here, but... maybe it's best to lay low till this all blows over."

     Atticus raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Whatever happened to 'let's band together and attack the monster?'"

     "I know, I know, and I know what you said back there. But if we get lost in the open while looking for the Exit... I just don't want to see you hurt."

     "Likewise," Atticus said. "What an unfortunate conundrum."

     "Are you done yet?" asked the voice of the girl in the dark. Tulip clasped her backpack straps and rose to her feet.

     "We'll take our chances with the monster," Tulip replied. "Come on, Atticus." They started off in full (feigned) confidence, but the girl didn't back down.

     "You really think you can take on that thing by yourself?"

     "I'm not by myself." She met Atticus's eyes, and felt a slight rustle in her backpack. Sensing One-One's imminent emergence, she broke into a brisk stride. Atticus followed suit.

     As they embarked into the depths of the mall, a new weight settled upon her shoulder. 

     "Miss Tulip, you forgot to tuck me in! Your negligence in my formative years will probably result in me developing a lifelong manipulative streak out of fear of being forever unloved."

     "I'm sorry, One-One—I just have to get us out of here. But first I've gotta fight a monster... armed with naught but an impractical donut-holer."

     "It's not impractical! It's patented!!"

     "Don't stay out in the open too long," Atticus said. "I think these passengers hold an unsubstantiated grudge against the residents of the Train. I may be able to lay low, but there could be trouble if they catch sight of you."

     One-One reluctantly dipped back into Tulip's backpack. "If you need me, I'll be wallowing in my own isolation."

     "The sooner we escape this car, the better." Tulip broke into a jog, Atticus's gait matching hers in determination. A few minutes later, they stepped forth into an illuminated patch at the heart of the mall, in which dull white beams of light streaked placidly down upon them from a glass ceiling above.

     Feeling slightly more exposed now than she had before, Tulip paid especial attention to the tread of her boots, which she delicately maneuvered with each step she took. Long, slow strides, she presumed, were probably safer than recklessly ambling about. Though she hadn't really been ambling. No... Why did she feel so aware in the artificial light? When was the last time she'd seen the Sun...

      Her mind snapped out of a loop as her ears detected a whisper originating from the direction of the fauxlumination. Squinting her eyes, she turned her face ceiling-ward, and caught sight of a girl on a bridge. She was older than Tulip by several years, and seemed to have noticed her as well.

     "Get up here!!"

     Tulip mouthed back, "How?" and the girl directed her to a nearby set of stairs, which Tulip promptly ascended. Atticus made to come too, but the stranger's eyes assumed an icy stare; he suspected she wasn't as willing to trust as the first girl they'd encountered. Tulip didn't realize his hesitancy to ascend, however, until she was beside the girl on the bridge, looking down upon the car with awestruck horror.

     "It's so much bigger than I thought... The exit could be anywhere!"

     The stranger's breathing was short, and her body quaked with a fear in the name of her own mortality. Suddenly, she sobered long enough to briefly introduce herself.

     "I'm... Grace. You're not one of our kids but you've gotta help me. I can't do this alone."

     "Sure, okay... I'm Tulip, by the way..." She noticed this girl did not have a marking on her face. Unbeknownst to Tulip, Grace had forgotten to apply it in her haste to face the beast.

     Grace pressed her forehead into the icy guard rail. "He isn't moving."

     "Who isn't—" Then, Tulip saw him, in the corner of her eye; he lay not far from Grace; on her right side, in fact. Tulip kept close to the ground as she crawled over to him.

     "Oh geez. Um..." He appeared to be drifting in and out of conscious state. Down below, metallic clinks and the bitter sound of scraping metal echoed their way back to the bridge. A vague robotic hum made her body freeze up, eyes widen, breathing hasten, as she found herself craning her neck over the edge, desperately attempting to catch so much as a glimpse of the Steward.

     "It's back," she asserted, brows furrowing as she reached into her backpack, refusing to let her gaze stray from the ground floor.

     "You... you've seen it too?" asked Grace in frightened awe.

     "Seen it? That thing tried to kill me! I only survived because One—" A moment's hesitation. "I... bashed its face in with an exit door."

     "You faced that thing head-on? So you know a way to beat it?"

     "Well, not actually; I think it was signaled away or something. By the Train, or—"

     "The Conductor."

     Tulips hands closed around the pipe. "You mean to say that... hypothetically," she turned to face Grace, "the two are connected?"

     "It's not just a theory. I know." A brief, reverent pause. "I've seen the Conductor. And if we follow this thing, it may lead us right to him. Or him to us." The stars in her eyes diminished. "Assuming we survive, that is." Trembling, she shook her head, as if stirring from a bad dream. "We can't destroy it. Not yet. For now, let's just keep it at bay."

     Tulip found herself nodding. "Fine. Not like we can take on that thing anyway." Her mind returned once more to the boy. "What about him?"

     "We'll take him with us, to the depths of the mall. There's some parts we can salvage and weaponize, as well as a First-Aid kit. Not that he's bleeding or anything, but we need to recuperate if we wanna stand a chance against this thing." She went over to Simon and removed his harpoon pack. "It's dangerous to go on foot. We can swing across this expanse to that balcony." She pointed to the second floor that wrapped around the diameter of the mall. It connected to the bridge upon which they presently stood, but walking would take more time than they could afford, despite the element of stealth being in their favor if they did. Before Tulip could weigh in on this plan, the pack was thrust into her hands, and Simon was placed between them. As she pulled the first strap over her shoulder, she realized she couldn't wear this and her own backpack at the same time. 

     "Put it on Simon," Grace said, and Tulip, half in an adrenaline-haze, did so with Grace's help. Then she donned the harpoon pack, wrapping an arm around Simon, connecting with Grace.

     "Wait, this is reckless!! What if he falls? What if we fall?!" Though not high enough to kill them, a drop from this height definitely had the means to hurt.

     "This is nothing," scoffed Grace. "We use these things to jump between cars every day!"

     Tulip stared at her, bewildered. "How are you not dead?!"

     "Luck, and skill, and talent. And..." she aimed her harpoons, "MAGNETS!!"

     Two ropes shot out of Grace's hands, and Tulip reluctantly followed suit. The magnets found their target in a shadowy patch of ceiling, and with a half-affirming nod from Grace, they gripped onto Simon and took off, his body suspended between them. But as they soared closer to the patch, it became more of an indistinct metal mass; like a tumor, it was misshapen, misplaced, and all too late did they realize what it was they'd latched onto.

     "No."

     The Steward's empty eyes burst into flames once again, though this time something else emerged from their sockets. Tulip knew what was about to happen, and in a last-ditch effort to save their skin, she released Simon's hand, took Grace by the sleeve, and tugged her out of the line of fire as a bullet nearly grazed her arm. The Steward shifted, and Tulip's stomach dropped as gravity took its toll. They swung freely from the robot as it aimed again, and this time, they crashed into one of the second-floor stores. Grace recovered just long enough to pull the gate down, before collapsing to the floor. Tulip turned the switch at the bottom, and pulled her knees to her chest as she stared blankly through the grate.

     "Now what are we supposed to do? Our friends are gone... and so's my only weapon." She furrowed her brows and glared back at Grace. "Why the heck did you think that would work?! If we'd just taken our time, we'd've been totally fine!"

     "You haven't been here very long," Grace said. "The Train's unpredictable. When you act, you've gotta act fast."

     "I've been here long enough to learn that taking your time pays off," Tulip snapped. 

     "Did your Null tell you that?"

     "His name is Atticus. And I dunno what you guys have against Train people, but I doubt the Conductor thinks very highly of your club."

     This finally touched a nerve. "The Conductor is human—he made the Train for us!"

     Tulip scoffed and turned to face her directly. "What line of logic are you operating on? If the Conductor did make the Train, why disparage his own creations? Why reduce them to 'Nulls'?" 

     "Because the Conductor didn't make them—the Brakeman did."

     This declaration caught Tulip off-guard. She hadn't considered a brakeman before. "Okaaaay... where'd you get that idea?"

      "Simon told me a story that his Null told him, before it left him for dead, that is. Long ago... there was the Conductor at the Engine, and the Brakeman at the Caboose. The Conductor would tell the Brakeman what to make for his cars, and that's how they created the Train. But the Conductor intended for humans to live here, while the Brakeman prized his own creations—the Nulls—over prospective passengers. When passengers started being admitted and taking precedence over his toys, he made Nulls that looked like humans. But something was off about them, and they didn't blend in very well. The Train became confused, and started to break down, so the Conductor ousted the Brakeman and his human-emulators, then rebooted the Train from scratch, programming all denizens to prioritize passenger needs—although some still defect to the Brakeman mindset and try to cheat us. That's why we wear the Wave: to show our thanks to the Conductor and keep the passengers on top. I would be wearing mine now if not for this whole mess."

     Tulip beheld her, in awe of the nonchalance with which she relayed this lore. Whether or not it was true, it offered a sense of insight which she herself had admittedly lacked.

     "Well, Brakeman or not, I don't think it's fair to degrade denizens. They're not the NPC's you think they are." To her dismay, Grace snickered.

     "I've been on this Train for years; do you really think that you know more than me?"

     "It just sounds like you've been coping by clinging onto what's familiar, and using that to fill in the gaps of an incomplete story. I get it—I'm guilty of it—but like it or not, there's always gonna be stuff that you have to accept as it is. Sometimes... you'll never have the answer of why something came to be. You can wait all you want for the Conductor to validate your own explanation, but how can you be sure that he knows any more than you do? You love the idea of an all-knowing Conductor, but he kicked out the Brakeman. Maybe the Brakeman had stories we'll never get to know. Maybe what the Conductor did was just wrong."

     "But the Conductor MADE the Brakeman—he had every right to destroy him! The Brakeman was a Null too!"

     "Okay, fine, whatever," Tulip said. "My point still stands; conflating the Conductor's creations, old and new, will get you nowhere in the end. You only 'know' 'Nulls' in the context of your god destroying them. They've been relegated to a footnote in his head, but you still have the power to find value in knowing them. I just... hate the idea of things disappearing. Of stuff we'll never get to see—of connections that never came to pass because just one connection failed." 

     It was impossible to dismiss this story in the context of her family's own divorce; all schisms wrought betrayed the lives suspended in-between. "Maybe it is all just a machine, but that doesn't make its illusions any less tangible. Just because the creator wrote them off, doesn't mean that you have to as well." 

     Tulip got up and compulsively reached for her backpack straps to clutch. In their absence, she found the restrictive bounds of the harpoon pack which she still wore. Desperate for something that felt familiar, she clasped her hood instead, pulling it over her head. "Let's get out of here as soon as we can. If we work together, we can save both our friends." She walked into the store and twisted off one of the arms of an abstract mannequin. "See, we can 'arm' ourselves here—ha, get it—?" 

     Her dry laugh was superseded by a scream as the mannequin lunged out from its defaced display. Grace snatched the arm from Tulip and stepped between them. "Stay back; I'll handle this."

     "No, wait!!" Tulip stole back the arm and held it out of Grace's reach. "It belongs to them!"

     "No, it belongs to you. Finders-keepers; Apex rules. Preach all you want about denizens, kid—at the end of the day, they're still objects to you."

     "That's—not true!! I made a mistake just now; it's my job to fix it. Here you go." She leaned down to where the denizen lay, and helped it reaffix its arm. "I'm super sorry about that. I... didn't know you were alive." The words stung as they left her throat—an acidic confession. Her blunt honesty stunned Grace, who watched the faceless being bolt back into the shadows.

🎃

     Outside the store the coast was clear (for now, at least). Tulip and Grace stayed close to the walls for fear of the Steward detecting their presence. Grace's nerves were on the rise again; if Tulip's were, then she didn't show it.

     "So... you got a plan or what?" Grace asked. Tulip nodded and gestured for her to come closer, so they could speak in whispers.

     "All we've got are these harpoon packs, but I think we could use them to our advantage. If we find a magnetic surface and attack it from above, we can probably overpower it. We just need to know what is and isn't magnetic—"

     "Everything," Grace said lackadaisically. Tulip looked at her, incredulous.

     "I mean yeah, there's a lot of silvery stuff here, but I don't think that—"

     "I mean everything," Grace asserted. "Everything from the glass to the tiles to the clothes that I'm wearing. Some surfaces are stronger than others, of course, and most normal objects won't stick to each other, but pretty much everything made by the Conductor has some level of magnetism involved. These harpoons can even latch on to sturdier denizens. Wouldn't advise aiming at a moving target, though. Speaking of which..." She pointed to the floor below, where a little white ball was traversing the mall. "It looks like another Null. We could probably take it from here."

     "That's my friend!" Tulip hissed. "And the monster's gonna kill him and Atticus if we don't get there in time!!!"

     "What makes you so sure?" said Grace. "They're probably in cahoots."

     "Because we MET that robot thing when it was ATTACKING denizens!!!!"

     "Well, if you don't shut up, it's gonna attack US!!!" Grace's gaze flickered across the storefront they'd just abandoned, its gate partially raised, and the humanesque figure presently attempting to sneak under it; the angle at which one of its arms was perpetually bent made this effort rather difficult. Grace, inspired, made a proposition. "What if we bought your friends some time with a little... diversion?"

     "That would be great," Tulip sighed, then perked up, suspicious. "What do you have in mind...?"

     "Oh, nothing," Grace said, swiftly moving to the bridge where this whole quest had begun. Tulip warily followed, then stopped in her tracks to trace the potential course of Grace's harpoons, which were aimed at the store they'd crashed into minutes before. Suddenly, what looked at first to be a person scrambled to their feet, turning their face—or lack thereof—directly to where Grace stood. She took this as her cue and shot; while the first harpoon missed, the next found its target square in the denizen's forehead.

     "Bullseye!" Grace whispered in triumph, jerking the mannequin over the edge of the railing as the harpoon's cord retracted itself. Tulip bore witness to this in horror, an emotion mirrored by Grace as the being's descent was cut short; the denizen themself, frozen in midair. Grace jolted forward suddenly, but held fast to the railing of the bridge and did not tumble over. The cord of the harpoon pack was stretched taut between her and the mannequin—and in turn pulling her toward it. The first harpoon had retracted itself completely, having failed to affix to anything in her initial attempt. She shot this into the red-carpet-clad floor of the bridge on which she stood, in hopes of retaining her footing there. Unfortunately, this produced a dull clang which resounded across the Mall Car. 

     This, however, was not the sound which ultimately alerted the Steward; that honor belonged to the ball down below, who, upon looking up and catching sight of the petrified mannequin, emitted an incredible, terrible sound. 

     But see, this is a robot after all, so much like his version of "singing," which can range from a phreaky ditty to a downright dial-up, this sound should be differentiated from the yells and wallops we've heard from him prior. No, dear reader, I can only describe this singular piercing note—akin moreso to microphone feedback than any vocal emission I know of—as a scream. So terrible was it that Tulip stooped to her knees and covered her ears, while Grace reflexively let go of her harpoons to press her own hands to the sides of her skull. This proved ineffectual in the long run, and both girls, so overwhelmed by the sound they were driven to close their eyes too, missed the part where the mannequin glitched back into its falling motion and crashed to the floor of the mall, where the wire protruding from its face continued to reel it back in, up to Grace. The mannequin skidded across the floor, alerting a pair of cyan eyes sequestered in the darkness nearby. The Steward retracted its arm from an unseen input in the wall, and began its pursuit of the bait Grace had unwittingly cast. 

     Still dazed from the piercing mechanical screech, Grace did not process this development until it was too late. She released the mannequin, but by then it was practically under the bridge. The Steward had not caught sight of her yet, and for some reason was enamored with this particular denizen. 

     The faceless mannequin made an attempt to escape, but a metallic arm caught hold of its waist and dragged it back to the floor. The Steward towered over it, enveloping the being in shadow. Grace observed all of this from above, mesmerized. She looked to Tulip, who was frantically gesturing toward the stairs, or just anywhere-but-the-bridge-GET-AWAY-FROM-THE-BRIDGE. To her surprise (and Grace's) Grace did not run away. 

     She pulled herself over the rail of the bridge, supported now only by the heels of her feet standing upon the edge, and her hands, which held onto the guard rail for dear life. She took a deep breath and aimed her harpoons at the unknowable silvery mass of robotic tentacles teeming below. This had not worked before—she knew that well enough—but she did not aim to kill—rather, tether. Still holding onto the rail with one of her hands, she leaned out and shot, her harpoon arcing over the Steward, and her descending with it on the opposite side. She aimed her other harpoon at the floor, which anchored her beside the monster. When the cords retracted this time, the Steward was momentarily pinned to the ground, giving the mannequin some leeway to escape. Grace stood her ground and kept the Steward incapacitated Gulliver-style for as long as she could muster, before the cords snapped and the being turned its fury to her.  A cascade of limbs assailed Grace and omitted any of the mall's flat light from entering its sphere; she caught her breath as illuminance in the form of fiery eyes burst to life before her. She was in the pumpkin patch again, and the Conductor was far away...

     Though mayhaps not all hope was lost! A distant clang caused the tentacles to part just enough for Grace to catch sight of Tulip, above, aiming her harpoons at the beast. 

     "LEAVE—HER—ALONE!!!" She moved as if to draw the cables back, but the Steward, prepared, snapped them with a singular set of claws, and took hold of the pack itself—dragging Tulip up with it. Shaking, Grace took her own harpoon in hand and aimed it through the gap before it could close again. It struck the arm clutching Tulip, which promptly released her. She fell upon the Steward, sliding off its back and tumbling onto the floor behind it—landing next to One-One of all things, who was still ruminating on the mannequin.

     "How rude to not have a face! You'll have us all thinking you're a passenger if you keep that up. Shame on you, Nemo—I expected better from you! Sorryyyyyyyyy."

     "One-One, snap out of it! We don't have time to fool around!"

     Ignoring her, he prattled on. "That settles it; we can have no more delays or defects!" Suddenly, Glad-One and Sad-One split. "Have I ever sought release?" the latter quotingly lamented. "In words, no—"

     "In what then?"

     "ONE-ONE!!!!!!"

     "Oh, hello Miss Tulip!"

     "Did you enjoy our rendition of —"

     "There isn't time to enjoy anything!!!"

     "Did you enjoy how that mannequin fell? I know I did!"

     "He was a creepy reminder of things past."

     "Things PAST... past.. past... past." 

     Tulip scooped up the halves of her robotic friend before his ridiculous musings could attract the Steward. Kneeling behind a nearby pillar, she addressed them in whispers. 

     "Yes I saw the mannequin—what the heck was that?! Did you make it freeze—could you do it again? To the monster this time?"

     "Hm... I don't think I was it..."

     "We're in charge of the diegetic music."

     "... Music?"

     "Yes! We're the certified DJ!!!"

     "We don't take any requests."

     "Anyway, here's 'Wonderwall.'"

     "I wanted to sing 'Boulevard of Broken Dreams,'" his gloomy counterpart bemoaned.

     "I'm sure you can do both!" Tulip hissed through gritted teeth. She set the Ones on the floor and peered around the pillar in hopes of catching a glimpse of Grace amidst the monster's oscillating shape. We'll get you out of there, somehow...

     "Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you..."

     Tulip's blood ran cold; she turned around abruptly to find that both halves of One-One had skittered away. 

     "I walk a lonely road / The only one that I have ever known..."

     The Steward's shifting shape shuddered into stagnancy. 

     "And by now, you should've somehow realized what you gotta do..."

     Grace, still pinned to the floor and bracing for some sort of attack, gave a hesitant sigh of relief as the flames subsided. The Steward's face was inches from her own, and her proximity to it enabled her ears to detect a faint mechanical cacophony ticking away behind the mask. Mayhaps driven by fear or curiosity or both, she lifted a surprisingly steady hand, and cupped the chalk-white visage in her palm...

     "... Sometimes, I wish someone out there will find me / 'Til then, I walk alone..."

     "... Because maybe / You're gonna be the one that saves me / And after all / You're my Wonderwall..."

     There was something... coming from its eyes. A trail of viscous golden tears. They trickled over Grace's gloves, and in disgust, she pulled her hands to her chest. The Steward's mouth fell agape, moving up and down silently. As if attempting to speak. Then these motions grew quicker, and pulses of sound splintered out: HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA—

     Then, they accelerated to an uncanny trill of robotic laughter—accentuated by the tears, which spilled in golden gobs; whose splatters Grace just narrowly was able to avoid. Then It rose—chattering laughter trailing in its wake. It departed from Grace like a wiry angel, rising, rising just as it had before, only this time crashing through the skylights, raining crystal shards upon the mall—some of which glimmered in midair; others shimmered to the floor. And Glad-One and Sad-One—the deus ex machina in more ways than anyone could conceive at the time—practically materialized back into view, having woven their way through the Steward's myriad arms and ended up on either side of Grace herself. 

     "Hello!"

     "Weren't we just captivating?"

     "I love a good mashup, don't you?"

     "GRACE!!!" Tulip stumbled over to she who lay stunned and supine. Grace didn't realize how hard she was breathing until one of the Ones (she couldn't tell which till it spoke) crawled onto her stomach, and rose up and down in time with her lungs. 

     "Whoa, this is my second time being nauseous!"

     "I'll never get my sea legs..."

     "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!" Grace jolted upwards, and Glad-One fell onto his back like an upended turtle. Grace took a moment to get her bearings, let her eyes readjust to the light. Below where the glass had scattered/remained frozen in the air, tiny rainbows were cast across the floor. Tulip was there, before her, setting Glad-One back on his feet. She craned her neck to look behind, and found the corgi denizen standing by the stairs, lifting his paws up and down as if trying to stave off a bad spell of pins and needles. 

     In a moment of lucidity, Simon had apparently crawled under one of the store gates; Tulip's backpack lay just outside it. As Atticus dashed over to meet up with her, Grace pointed this out, as if it mattered.

     "Your bag's over there, by the way. Don't, like, forget it on your way out." She crossed her arms and averted her eyes as she felt her face flush. "Tell your Null friends thanks—for saving me, and everything."

      "You can tell them yourself," Tulip said—it was so matter-of-fact too. As if she held no ill will toward Grace. For dragging her into this mess... for letting her see her cornered, scared, irrational, and weak—

     They walked to the Exit together; Tulip with her bag in hand and her friends by her side. Grace trailing behind, but not by much. When Tulip opened the door, she turned back to Grace.

     "You can come with us, you know. We're off to see the Conductor. Maybe he can help you and those kids. Answer some of your questions..."

     Grace's eyes widened—in awe? fear? she couldn't tell—and impulsively, she stepped back. "What—no! I have a home on the Train. Unlike you, and your friends..." Her gaze met Tulip's, and she sighed. "I have... a responsibility... to lead the Apex. You haven't met the Conductor. But I... I have. He doesn't like Nulls. You'll have to learn that the hard way." She looked briefly at Atticus, and then shook her head, mustering an air of confidence. "Besides, I could just as easily ask you to stay—become one of us. But something tells me you're just passing through."

     Disheartened, Tulip gripped her backpack straps. "Yeah, I am..."

     "How high's your number?"

     Tulip glanced at the glove on her hand, then at the elbow-length glove on Grace's. "How high's yours?"

     Atticus stepped between them. "I hate to cut things short, but my paws are still stiff from that terrible freeze. I think it would be best for us all to part on good terms."

     Tulip gave a weak smile, and offered Grace her right hand. Grace sighed in turn.

     "He's right. You should go."

     Tulip's smile faltered. "How long are you gonna do this? Stay... here?"

     "As long as I can; forever maybe. I have nothing worth returning to."

     "You don't have much on the Train either."

     "I have the Apex!" Grace retorted. "I have the kids, and Simon—"

     "People change," Tulip said earnestly. "How can you be sure that they'll stay forever?"

     "Look, I just know, okay? And besides, they owe me. Simon would be dead if not for me; the kids would be lost, or worse. You got lucky today; without me, who knows what that thing could've done."

     "Without One-One—"

     "'One-One' doesn't need you, and you don't need him. You're as good as alone with those two."

     "And you're as good as alone with the Apex, so long as you pretend you're fine for their sake."

     "And what's that supposed to mean?"

     "All day, you've been acting like you're some sort of know-it-all; like you're an expert on the Train. Like you're somehow in control. It's okay to admit that you aren't. It's okay to be real like you were on the bridge—"

     "I'm real regardless!" Grace snapped. "Realer than your friends—than that monster. Realer than you'll maybe ever know." She took a couple steps back, gripping her right arm. The shape of the door (and those whom it framed) grew smaller with incremental distance. Until it closed and she was left alone in the mall.

🎃

     "She's not wrong, you know," Glad-One said as they crossed the gangway.

     "... About what?" Tulip asked.

     "Some numbers feeling more 'real' than others. I mean, a negative or irrational number doesn't feel too 'real' does it? But, technically, they are all Real Numbers!"

     "I don't follow." A pause. "I don't think she was talking about numbers."

     "Everyone talks about numbers! We're all a bunch of math geeks who eat lunch alone in the great cafeteria of life."

     Another pause. This time Tulip stopped in her tracks. "Even with all those kids... even with that Simon guy... I can't shake the feeling she gets lonely..." I know I have as of late. And it's a different kind of lonely than the self-imposed Alone. It's... 

     "Standing next to a friend... who still lives in only one house." Tulip looked back at the Mall Car, then to the one before her. 

     When you're stuck between two places, no one knows where you're coming from. 

⏳

     Far from the Train was a planet she and Grace knew well; a world from which all passengers derived—and where they alighted at the crux of their journeys. Mayhaps it was her memory of this world that assured Grace of her own reality; the shared knowledge of it between her and every other human she encountered on the Train. The comfort of collective unconscious, with which no denizen could sympathize. Maybe she longed for the Earth after all of these years; maybe she knew, even then, that she couldn't go back. That she never would find somebody—passenger or otherwise—who'd truly understand what she'd been through. What she'd done, and why. Would the people back home with not a notion of the Train feel less real to her if she ever returned; would the journeys of those who had ridden its rails for a matter of months ring hollow to she who'd established a life in its cars?

     Grace was eternally trapped in a liminal place; she stood upon a bridge and she was scared. Everyone else was asleep. There was a monster and it was familiar to her. She built a house of digits on the bridge and hid inside. Ironically, it had taken a turtle to knock down her walls.

     That day when the Steward appeared replayed in her mind now, and she wondered—had she accompanied Tulip—where she would be; what she may have found... 

     Whether the Apex would still exist; whether Simon would still be alive. Whether Hazel—

     She brushed off the thought. There was no going back, not a way to rewind. For the first time in nine years, she was truly alone... yet she was not lonely. She had made friends here—lost friends here. She had grown and changed and then some, but at her core, she was still Grace.

     So she did what she'd always done best, and danced in the Void to invisible song.

     Don't be a worry baby...

     Oh! to be carefree and aloof again! To be young and spirited and free of all earthly desires. She was in love... with herself! She had achieved something wondrous here, on this eternal vehicle of self-realization. And she was going home... no, she WAS home! At home in her own skin, in her own mind. For the first time in her life, Grace Monroe was satisfied.

     Just take it easy-peasy...

     Light streamed in through a glass sky overhead, and she pirouetted thrice before snapping out of her trance, stumbling slightly, then laughing in spite of herself. Then crying. Her head was bowed, and as she raised it back up again, she came face-to-face with herself in a mirror. Her right hand drifted to her double's left as warm tears rolled down her cheeks.

     "I love you. I'm... so, so proud of you."

     And her reflection smiled back, seemingly by her own free will, for she had been with Grace since the beginning, and had watched her grow as well.

     Even she was proud.

     Hours passed, but time was irrelevant to Grace. As the light overhead dissolved into purply rays, she sat on the rim of the bridge overlooking the Mall Car, and breathed in remedial silence. Exhalation granted her reprieve, so she took in the quiet again, and repeated the process.

     "Don't be a worry baby..."

     She turned her face to the dusking sky and trilled her lips, eliciting a giggle amidst the brimming tears.

     Oh, Hazel, if only you could see me now...

     She thought back to that morning, when she'd sat beside Lucy at the top of the escalator. Lucy had been the last to go...

♾️

     "Grace, do you want to go back home?"

     "Of course I do! Well, now, anyway..."

     The girl eyed her skeptically before Grace gave in. "Okay, maybe I'm scared. Like, a lot. I... didn't have much fun back home, actually. The Train helped me get away from all of that." For a moment or so, her gaze remained fixed on her palm; a solitary green number 4 glowed back. "I'm older now, though. I can... I will... figure it out."

     Lucy smiled. "Yeah... we both will." There came a soft hum from her own hand, and when she next looked down—

     "GRACE, LOOK!!!"

     To their shared astonishment, the digit had dropped to zero. At the bottom of the escalator where Lucy sat, an Exit door opened. At its end, her home. She was finally going home...

     Perhaps activated by the sheer force of the Exit, Lucy's escalator began to move. Taken by surprise, she stumbled to her feet and held fast to the railing. Once she'd steadied herself, she turned back to Grace and started to run. Her efforts to progress back toward the landing were futile.

     "G-Grace, I can't get back to you!"

     "It's okay! You've got your Exit. You're finally going home!"

     "NO!!" Against the Train's wishes, Lucy leapt over the railing and onto the second escalator, which was moving upward towards Grace. Lucy ran to meet her, and Grace caught her in a hug. After the events of last year, Grace had become somewhat of a hugger amongst the Egress (formerly the Apex), which was just as well, since the kids seemed to need it more than anything. Though they'd never questioned her reasoning behind this, Grace understood why she did it; ever since she'd returned to the Mall Car, she couldn't help but see Hazel in the eyes of these children. And in seeing her, Grace would remember the pain she had caused... the reason the poor girl had left.

     And then a sob would emerge, and she'd swear to herself that she'd give these kids what they needed, what they deserved.

     She'd get each one of them home, even if it meant never leaving the Train herself.

     "You're a good kid, Lucy. Now get out of here!" she teased, ruffling her hair.

     Lucy giggled and met eyes with Grace. "Okay." Before she stepped back on the escalator, she hesitated. "Wait, I can't go! You'll be all alone!"

     "Don't sweat it; I'm right behind you." Grace held up her hand to reveal a glowing number 3 emblazoned on her palm. Still, Lucy refused to proceed.

    "Nuh uh, you're coming with." She extended her small hand to Grace, who offered a sad smile in return.

     "Lucy... you know I can't..."

     "Only the Train says you can't! We earned this Exit together. You're coming with me and that's final!" Lucy took Grace's hand and dragged her onto the descending escalator. "See? I'll make sure you're taken care of and everything."

     "I'm a grown-up now, Lucy, I can take care of myself." Grace closed her eyes and sighed, defeated. She'd been a grown-up for nine years.

     Then something struck her; something she'd never considered before.

     "Lucy, why were you on the Train? Your number was never very high. Even when you were in the Apex, it was lower than most of the kids'. Even when theirs went down, yours simply refused to change..."

     Lucy was silent. "I know why I first got on, and I guess I fixed those problems long ago. The Apex sort of trapped me here. I stayed... because I wanted to take care of you."

     "W-what?"

     "You and Simon were all that we had. When we watched Simon die... I saw a change in you. You wanted to make things better, but didn't know how. From then on out, I realized what you were: a clueless, scared kid, just like the rest of us. And you're still that kid, okay? Don't pretend you're not. You're terrified; this Train is all you know anymore. That's why you can never really go back, and that's why I knew I had to stay. Once we were gone, you'd have nobody left. Simon is dead, and the Egress is your only home. Now it's my turn to go. What will you do when I'm gone? What do you have left to live for beyond this machine?"

     The whir of the Exit grew nearer as Grace's mind reeled. "Hazel, no... wait... please." And suddenly Lucy understood.

     "You were always searching, Grace. For answers, then power and control, then redemption. What are you planning to find when the numbers run out?"

     The ground stopped moving; they'd reached the bottom, and Lucy was gone, leaving Grace to grasp at thin air for something... anything...

♾️

     She'd never see Hazel again, so what was she looking for now?

     It was on this day that she realized, that she understood.

     That she found.

     "It's me, isn't it? I'm what I've been looking for..."

     She asked this of the Train—or perhaps, of herself. She asked this and came to an Epiphany:

     "I... finally know where I am."

     No longer was Grace in-between—liminal, lasting. At last she was aware and free and true. Awake after so many years, she opened her eyes to the welcoming glow of her Exit.

     The location at its end was unknown to her—hazy, even. It was not the home she'd left, but rather, one she had created—one she would create... in time. This was a wonderful place: a new adventure, second life. No more falsehoods or cults; no more lies; no more Apex. No more of the Grace she had been long ago. She was finally free to Become, and thus as she stepped into the light, a tear streaked down her cheek like some sort of silvery star. And she smiled. And she smiled...

     And she never stopped thereafter.

I'm going home
I'm going home
I'm going home

     She was in midair, and she was gone. She was everywhere and nowhere all at once. The Train was far behind her, now.

     And when she emerged, it was still Grace she saw in the mirror. 

⌛️