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Tonight, the view out the train window does not comfort him as it normally does.
The glow of stars and far-off nebulae catches Dan Heng's attention as he paces the length of several storage coaches near the end of the Express. But the colors seem cold tonight, they don't glow with the warmth he is used to, the welcome granted to a weary wanderer.
Mr. Yang had told him there were no places or items in the Express that are off limits to him, save the obvious private rooms of the crew. He'd also mentioned there were a number of unarchived materials scattered throughout the train's storage, so in his position as their new Archiver, Dan Heng has already spent many a sleepless night sorting through those storage areas in unused coaches at the back of the train.
By now, he's found everything in storage that needs cataloging, and has gathered it all into the Archive room and the empty bedroom next door - the bedroom given to him to sleep in, though it's far too spacious and too open to allow him to feel safe there.
His first night aboard, he'd given up on sleep altogether and gone into the Archive room to familiarize himself with the systems. And he'd ended up scolded the next morning by their Conductor for staying up too late. It's the first time he's ever had an employer who cares about something like that.
So the second night, he'd taken his thin futon into the Archive with him and rolled it out in a back corner, situated between the server bank and several stacks of old books.
And he'd managed to sleep a little that night, tucked in there between the radiant warmth of the servers, and the security of the solid stacks of books. His chosen space is small, a little dusty, smells a bit like old parchment and musty paper, but it lacks the chill and dank mildew of damp stone walls.
It's enough like his old cell though, that he finally feels a bit safer. Of course he'd never felt safe in the Shackling Prison. Yet sometimes when he feels vulnerable even in his freedom, he misses the steady solid walls, wrapped like a fortress around him.
He knows this is not exactly normal, and refuses to dwell on the intricate layers of that feeling. He's just so pitifully grateful that after some minor confusion and inquiries into his needs, the other crew members have stopped asking him why he chooses to sleep there instead of his proper bedroom.
No other employer has ever asked him if he needed anything to make his stay more comfortable. Why should it matter? Crew lodging is simply part of payment for work, and the lavish space the Conductor had offered him would be better utilized by the crew in some other way.
Sleeping in his workspace is much more efficient, if he isn't even going to sleep a full night.
Like tonight.
Nightmares are always an unwelcome companion, and something he's long ago learned to deal with quietly and privately, a necessity in shared crew quarters. If he can't shake the nightmare off and get back to sleep, if he can't bear to remain awake lying still in the dark, he walks. Finds something on his current ship that needs to be done - unfinished work from earlier in the day, or a night crew somewhere that needs an extra hand.
By living in the Archives, he already has work around him if he can't sleep. Tonight though, his safe corner feels claustrophobic and he doesn't want to plug material into the databank, or even reorganize what's already there. He walks the hallways quietly because the rest of the crew, even the hard-working Conductor, are sound asleep and the train is already spotless. Nothing needs cleaning, and he's already gathered every archivable thing he can find in storage.
He should just go back to his room and try again to catalog materials, but he's unable to focus. The nightmare tonight was not dissimilar to others in the past: that beast that stalked him featured prominently once again, but there had been more...
There had been images of horror and destruction, scenes of strife with no context running through his dreams again and he knows this must be the Sedition they've spoken of. He's never been given reading materials on it, and nothing about it was ever published outside the Xianzhou Empire; they're much too proud to admit that dark stain upon their reputation. He only knows what he's been told about the Sedition by those whose words he cannot trust, and what he'd heard whispered in the shadows of the prison.
He knows the destructive power he feels within himself: sometimes deep inside yet sometimes bubbling just barely under the skin. He's never reached for it, and it's never surfaced on its own but sometimes in his darkest moments, he wonders if he should have been released at all.
And he wonders sometimes if he should stop running and just let the beast with red-gold eyes destroy him after all. Perhaps he's not a beast but rather a...a cleansing fire to burn away the last vestiges of the one responsible for all that destruction...
Dan Heng knows the meaning of his species reincarnation, he knows he's not the same person who committed those atrocities and yet...and yet he's been made to atone for it all his life. There must have been a reason why. Yet there must also have been a reason to exile him, but was exile a mistake? Should he still be in chains?
When his thoughts get like this, Dan Heng feels the need to move, just keep walking, pressing forward until he either wears himself out completely and can finally sleep, or finds himself somewhere new and distracting enough that it draws his thoughts back to the outside world.
If he happens to be planetside, it's easier - just walk from one port city to another.
If he happens to be on a nondescript IPC freighter, he finds extra work to do.
If he happens to be on a luxury train out in the vastness of space off of the usual shipping routes...he can only pace the length of it from coach to coach. He won't pace the hallway of the Passenger Car because he doesn't want to disturb anyone else. He's already been given more consideration than is necessary for the simple work he was hired to do, and he refuses to become a nuisance.
So he just paces, and stares out at the universe beyond the window and thinks of opportunities he can never pursue and how he's beginning to feel trapped here despite everyone's kindness...
And how they're so far off the major shipping routes, probably no one would ever know if they simply disappear. If their systems fail and leave them endlessly adrift, if they crash on an uncharted planet, are swallowed up by the Swarm, ripped asunder by the beast with red-gold eyes...
Dan Heng is not often given to 'what ifs' and flights of panic, but sometimes he can't stop these lines of thought and he wonders if it means something is wrong with him. Something more than what he already knows is wrong, of course.
At one time he thought he could make a life for himself out here, but he's barely surviving. Why is he doing it at all? Does he think his existence can in some way atone for the evils his previous self commited? All he really wants, when he bothers to think about it, is to make some kind of connection with something out there in the wider world. To know that his existence actually matters, to make just one tiny corner of this vast universe just a little...warmer somehow.
But staring out there tonight he thinks, why would the universe need him? Why would it want him: a sinner unable to escape the shadows of his past no matter how much he wishes to? What can he do to change anything out there? What difference can he make?
He feels the empty vastness of space is waiting for him, beckoning him not so much to explore its endless wonders, as to simply step out into the void, where he will drift alone for all eternity after the death of this life...unless he falls into the gravity of a dying star somewhere...
His hand is pressed against the cold glass, and Dan Heng jerks it back with a gasp, frightened for a moment that if he presses any harder the window will shatter and his deepest thoughts become reality...
This is ridiculous. The Express, despite outward appearance, is very much a space-worthy vehicle and he is perfectly safe from being sucked out into that vacuum, even were he to deliberately open a window or exterior door at this moment.
The knowledge does not sooth him.
He feels watched suddenly, and the fine hairs prickle on the back of his neck. There is no one else in this coach, yet his own reflection that he can see in the window takes on an almost...eldritch quality, seeming to grow ghostly antlers, longer ears, though he knows it is merely his own plain reflection superimposed over the gas and dust clouds of the bright nebula beyond.
Yet...it's too uncanny.
He wants to tug the heavy drapes shut and turn on every light in this coach, until sheer brightness can burn away the image of the other etched leering in his mind.
He fumbles for the cord holding back the drapes, but he can't loosen it until he finds the wall switch that will override the nighttime illumination settings. But now as he turns, the scattered shelves in the dark room behind him seem to loom too close, had they been moved while his back was turned? The scattered crates and stacked boxes could be hiding any number of malevolent creatures...
Usually, darkness doesn't bother Dan Heng. His entire life has been defined by darkness, barely lessened by dim candlelight. But now he needs the brightness of artificial light, the solidity of walls with no windows, and this unique ship is suddenly too otherworldly and it's not safe and he runs.
He needs the Archive room, the only place right now that is even remotely familiar, where he can dial the lights up as brightly as he wants without disturbing anyone else, and where he can barricade himself into a corner behind the stacks of books, and just...exist...until this panic fades. As it always does, eventually.
And when it does, he'll pack up his meager belongings, turn in his train pass, and ask to disembark at the next stop. Navigator Himeko had said he could leave whenever he wanted, there wasn't an end date listed on his contract.
He could leave before he makes a fool of himself.
But right now, he needs the Archive. But the vestibule at the end of one storage coach just leads into another storage coach and how many coaches back had he been? How endless is this train? Not once does Dan Heng consider calling out for help. Help is not something he can expect to receive.
His breath is coming in gasps now, heart beating far too quickly in his panic and he pushes through another vestibule into yet another train coach, but this one has one of the several guest bathrooms on board. And he shoves through that door and nearly collapses in relief as his flailing hand finds the light switch on the wall beside him.
The room is instantly flooded in stark brightness, reflecting off sterile white tile walls, no windows in sight, and he stumbles to the sink to run the cold water and splash his face.
But it doesn't work as it should. This is not a residual panic that followed him up from the depths of a fading nightmare. He is fully awake, and it's worse like this, when his alert and rational inner voice can not overcome his racing heart and shallow gasping breaths, and absolute certainty that something lurks behind the closed stall door he can see in the mirror behind him.
He's being foolish, the rational voice says: nothing less than benign inhabits this ship. Certainly not the beast with the red-gold eyes, or that other self with the terrible antlered crown upon its brow.
But his fear now is as visceral and ancient as a deer at the end of an exhausting flight, finally cornered by the wolf pack. Cloud Piercer appears in his hand without a conscious thought of summoning it. In a room this size, he won't have the range of motion needed for such a long weapon. Still, he turns to meet whatever lurks there behind him because he doesn't know how not to survive, even when he wonders why he bothers.
The door out to the dark hallway, that he has foolishly turned his back on, swings open.
In his panic Dan Heng pivots, nearly losing his balance in the tight space and inadvertantly raps Cloud Piercer hard against the tiled wall. There will be no damage to the spear of course, but the sound of tiles shattering resounds too loudly in the small space and bites into his overwrought mind. Dan Heng stumbles backward against the wall and slides down it as his legs gave out, unconsciously curling himself forward, his arms coming up to shield his head, but his grasp still tight around the shaft of his spear.
Mr. Yang halts a step inward from the threshold, only a slight widening of his eyes acknowledging any shock at being met with the business end of a spear while on a simple midnight trip to the bathroom.
Unconsciously, Dan Heng tries to make himself as small and invisible as possible though of course, Mr. Yang has already seen him.
Cloud Piercer trembles in his grip, responding to his fear and perhaps attempting to protect its master. He did not have the spear back in the Shackling Prison, had not even known of its existence until his final day on the Luofu. Before taking posession of it, he'd had no defense at all, he could only cower in this way when anyone would enter his cell - arms shielding the ragged stumps of non-existant antlers, and a figment of a tail wrapped tightly around his body. Such cowering never made a difference when they'd come for him: maybe to punish him for his past self's crimes... or to make him believe he was nothing more than that same past self...or to make him become that past self...
No matter how small he curled up, he could never hide...and it was humiliating now that he'd fallen into such an old habit because after he'd been exiled, his talent in wielding Cloud Piercer had become his best protection and he'd gained the confidence he needed to look after himself. He is a good fighter, he knows it's not arrogance to say that. It's why Miss Himeko noticed him in the first place, isn't it? And why she'd hired him to be their guard. He can fight. But sometimes, when he's had a particularly bad night...well an episode this bad hasn't occurred in a long while.
"...Dan Heng?"
And he simply can not stop trembling, the movements strong enough that Cloud Piercer, still held in a death grip above his head, rattles against the tile wall behind him, threatening to cause further damage. His heart races, his breathing comes in short gasps, and he wants nothing more than to squeeze his eyes shut against tears that threaten to spill but from between his forearms, he can not force his gaze away from the open door behind Mr Yang.
Dan Heng had never tried to escape his cell, his spirit had been broken long before he was grown enough to even consider such a thing. And were he to consider it, the restraints they'd used on him would have made any attempt impossible.
But now, faced with that open bathroom door, a way to escape this small room, provided he can get past Mr. Yang, he finds he's too terrified of what lies beyond the threshold to attempt it.
Why? What does he expect to see on the other side of that door? He has enough presence of mind to know he's on the Astral Express and despite the strangeness of this vehicle, there is nothing here that has yet tried to harm him.
"...Dan Heng?"
Dan Heng flinches at the realization the man in front of him has called out a couple of times now and been ignored. He knows Mr. Yang is not a threat to him, nothing like the beast that hunts him, nothing like that past self that he knows only from fragmented nightmares of anguish and images of destruction with no context. Mr. Yang isn't a Shackling Prison Warden, he isn't a Preceptor, he's not one of those others with their own agendas who only brought him pain...And yet...
And yet Dan Heng has just raised his weapon against this man, his employer, without any cause, and he's refusing to explain himself.
"...Dan Heng, are you all right?" Mr. Yang's voice is calm and even, though pitched a little with worry. And Dan Heng can not answer him. Mortified, he finds he can not speak at all. The words he desperately wants to force out: first to reassure, then second to apologize for brandishing his weapon unnecessarily, and last for damaging the walls, simply won't come to his lips. They sit in a tangled, congealed mass in the back of his throat.
"Well, that was a stupid question. You're definitely not all right." The voice is still level and calm, matter-of-fact even, like he's stating the time of day. And maybe Mr. Yang reads something in his expression, his posture, the way his entire body still trembles in fear and he can't catch his breath, but he moves away from the door, as if sensing Dan Heng feels trapped. Strange though, that the door remains open when he lets go of it, the bathroom doors usually swing closed under their own weight if not propped. Dan Heng isn't sure if he'd prefer it closed right now, rather than staring at the near-pitch darkness beyond it, but decides he would probably lose the last vestige of restraint on his terror if it did close right now...
He must have lost a moment or two in contemplation of that door because when Mr. Yang next speaks, his voice comes from Dan Heng's right side, and closer to the floor. Dan Heng tears his gaze away from the door long enough to assess that the man's proximity isn't a threat - but he's sat himself against the wall as well, out of range of Cloud Piercer, long legs drawn up a little awkwardly in the small room, and hands folded atop his knees, with all the dignity he can muster while dressed in gray pajama shirt and pants with little...mechas...printed all over them. Any other time, Dan Heng might find this amusing, but he has never truly laughed at anything in his life.
Mr. Yang speaks quietly without looking up from his clasped hands, "It might be difficult to believe right now, but I want you to know you are safe here."
Dan Heng's breath hitches. Mr. Yang can't know that for sure. He's never felt completely safe anywhere in his life. But...maybe it would be safer for everyone in this room right now if he didn't have Cloud Piercer in his hands.
It takes more effort than usual to dismiss Cloud Piercer from his stiffened grip, as if the spear wishes to stay and protect him. His arms remain over his head though, and he buries his aching hands into his already mussed hair.
"Want to tell me what's wrong?" The voice is still just conversational, not angry or hesitant. Mr. Yang doesn't seem terribly concerned by his behavior, not like he thinks Dan Heng is any threat to him.
Why is he speaking so kindly? Dan Heng must look a fool: their newly hired "guard" cowering on the floor of a bathroom, frightened of his own shadow and unable to speak. What's more, he's drawn his weapon against a senior crew member.
"Can you tell me what you need?"
What does he need? Mr. Yang needs to escort him to some brig, at least confine him to quarters for now, and Miss Himeko needs to summarily boot him off the Express at the next stop. That's what needs to be done.
Mr. Yang sighs, "Can you tell me how I can help?" This comes with a little more urgency, though still without any anger. But like a terrified child, no words can form on Dan Heng's tongue.
Pathetic.
They should just get rid of him. Dan Heng doesn't think he can hold himself together if they "give him a second chance" after tonight.
After all, he isn't doing so well with his current "second chance," is he?
He's been...surviving.
But not thriving.
He knows this. It's obvious, in these kind of setbacks. He'll go along okay for a while, but he just can't settle in anywhere. Nowhere is safe and his nightmares and anxieties rear their ugly heads and he just...he'll just finish out one job and go find another ship to sign on with, and just push on until it happens again and again, and he's got no tether anywhere, nowhere that has ever felt remotely safe...
"Hey? Are you still here with me?" A hand resting gently on his shoulder comes as a surprise, and he can't help himself from tensing at the sensation, not quite a flinch because pulling away from hands that grabbed at him never helped before. There was never a way to escape those hands, so why even try?
This hand is gentle though, doesn't grab, doesn't pull or shove him where it wants him to go, just rests gently in place, radiating a warmth that goes beyond merely physical, but he cannot relax under its weight and after a moment, it's withdrawn again.
Against all instinct, Dan Heng cries out at the loss. It's a strangled cry, breath hitching again, his chest is so tight, and he's afraid he may be sick, though it's been hours since he ate anything. He curls even tighter into himself.
Perhaps the kindest touch he had ever experienced in his life to this point was the General's careful removal of his shackles before he'd boarded the starskiff that would bear him away from the Loufu. But even that had been reserved and burdened by a weight and a sadness in the man's gaze that Dan Heng couldn't even begin to understand.
A second choking sob forces its way out, and he can't draw a full breath...he thinks at one time in the distant past, as a new hatchling, he might have cried out for comfort like this, but comfort never came. A sinner does not deserve such concern. Even a hatchling reincarnation of a sinner could not be held close and comforted.
And the room is growing far too hot and it's getting even harder to breathe and he thinks maybe this might be how it all ends, not at the tip of a fractured evil blade, but by his own inability to simply draw a full breath...
"Breathe, son," he hears from close beside him, and the hand has returned, this time gently tugging at his forearm to get him to lower his arms and raise his head. Then a cool, wetted cloth is passed gently across his forehead and cheeks. And suddenly, he can breathe a little easier. Oh, he'd been nearly suffocating himself the way his face had been pressed so tightly against his arms. And he couldn't draw a full breath when he was curled over tighter than a snail's shell. His eyes burn, cheeks are wet with long-denied tears and he can't even cry properly because when had he ever learned to?
And why should he be crying now? Why does this man, this near-stranger's kindness affect him like this? Is it because he's offering a connection, something to reach out and grab hold of? The hand returns to his shoulder ever so gently, squeezes, rubs in a small circle, and it's soothing, and Dan Heng wants more.
If he moves, if he leans just a little into that hand...would Mr. Yang hug him? He thinks the man probably would oblige, might even be waiting for him to make that move...but Dan Heng has never been hugged. He yearns to know what it feels like, but he sits frozen.
Because he's afraid of taking anything more for himself. Not when he's already interrupted this man's night. Not when he's already caused damage to this ship. And he's also pretty sure he'd claw his way out of his own skin right now if Mr. Yang did try to hug him. But he thinks...this little touch can be enough for now.
The damp cloth makes another pass across his brow and eyes, and a cool glass of water is pressed into his hands, preventing them from returning to their grip in his hair. When had Mr. Yang fetched the glass and cloth and crouched in front of him? It's not good for Dan Heng to lose track of time like this. He sips at the water though, then takes a longer drink and the tightness in his chest recedes a little more.
After a short while, Mr. Yang returns to sitting beside him, but the hand remains on his shoulder, and Mr. Yang is still so gentle when he speaks again, "Okay. If you don't feel like you can talk right now, that's fine. I've been told I can talk enough for two people. That is, if you don't mind listening?"
And really, he doesn't. He's never not been alone at a time like this, but he finds he doesn't actually want the solitude right now, despite his extreme embarrassment at being found in this state, despite his certainty that he has failed at the job they gave him and they should just kick him out and be done with it.
But he does listen as Mr. Yang speaks of past adventures on the Express. It sounds nice, reminds him of a bright but all too brief moment when he thought he might have a future out here among the stars...between that strange melancholy of being exiled from a home that was never his, and the terrible discovery he was being hunted by a monster.
That little flame he had wanted to hold on to, that one moment he thought he might be able to do something meaningful with his new freedom, that spark had burned out long ago...even being here with these Nameless, so different from the other crews he's been a part of, he's still managed to ruin the opportunity.
The great gift the General had granted by exiling him is being squandered.
But as he listens, and sips slowly at the water, none of Mr. Yang's words sound like "you're fired", or "maybe Trailblazing isn't a good fit for you..." He just speaks of beauty and the simple joys of discovery, and meeting and helping people when they can, and just...making a difference everywhere they go.
The words, and Mr. Yang's gentle presence are calming and Dan Heng wonders if he only prefers solitude because he has never had this, someone who seems to truly care about him for no reason whatsoever...No one has ever just sat with him before. Well, he had never sought out company either during one of these...episodes. He has never wanted to disturb other people, make himself a nuisance, or risk being fired before he could complete a contract and leave on his own.
And he can't even articulate any of that right now. He never really speaks much anyway, other than what's needed for work, he's even been mistaken for being mute. His own voice had been nearly foreign to him the first time he did respond to a foreman's question on the very first IPC freighter he had contracted with.
He knows the intricacies of language and can read just fine, but putting the knowledge into practice...well, who would he have struck up conversation with in the Shackling Prison? It wasn't like prisoners on the deepest level were ever granted social time like those on the upper levels and his only visitors had never been there for his benefit. He had learned very young that making any noise at all never brought him anything good. Better to be silent in loneliness, silent in fear, silent in pain.
But Mr. Yang doesn't seem to mind. He gently fills the silence, and his voice is a balm. He'll pause after a particularly interesting detail now and then, which Dan Heng realizes are openings for him to question details if he wants. It's an attempt to draw him into conversation, but he cannot bring himself to respond. And yet Mr. Yang gamely continues after each unfilled pause. His gentle voice drones on, and time seems to slow.
And gradually, Dan Heng reaches a sort of balance. He no longer fears the darkness he sees beyond the bathroom door, he's more uncurled, resting against the wall now, knees still drawn up but forearms folded across them to rest his chin on. He still can't speak, and Mr. Yang still gently fills the silence with past exploits of the Trailblazers, and little tidbits and random trivia of places he's seen, and promises that Dan Heng will thoroughly enjoy these places as well, and Dan Heng still doesn't understand why he's here.
He's confused by these people; Mr. Yang and Navigator Himeko. They hired him as a Guard, but in the couple of weeks he's been here, they have never wanted him to stay behind and actually guard the train, even though it means the only other soul left on board is a little upright-walking rabbit who doesn't seem very intimidating. Most of the time.
He doesn't even feel truly like a bodyguard when he escorts them on their adventures either, because he's already seen both of them handle themselves in battle and they don't exactly need him, though another hand in a fight is always good to have.
He does collect notes and documents, and records information for the Archives, and in that he feels like he's at least doing part of his job. But still, how many record-keepers also get to take part in the very adventures they document? It's a legitimate question, he doesn't actually know if this is a common occurrence. It's like this crew actually wants him to be part of their adventures, and not just watch their backs or keep track of paperwork.
It's all very confusing.
He's seen beauty in his travels, places he would have liked to explore further if he could ever have the luxury, but he can't afford to indulge and take the time. He needs to stay on the move, he needs to work enough to support himself, feed himself, and stay ahead of the hunter.
Survive, but not thrive.
He so badly wants what this crew is offering him: A place to actually belong and perhaps even thrive after all. They're offering him a brighter future, knowing nothing of his dark past.
But...why?
He's scared to reach for what they offer, lest it dissolve away like the feel of sunlight upon his hatching. How cruel, to have a glimpse of that warmth at the moment he entered the world, and not know it was the sun, and that it was natural to live under its light, to experience its promise of freedom only for a second, only to be sentenced to a cold and dim life in chains.
Then to have the glimmer of anticipation upon his first steps into freedom be snuffed out like a candle. Has he lost all hope for a better future for himself?
Deep down somewhere, the knowledge still exists that he is not the same person as his past self, no matter what was said or done to him by everyone in his life. Can he prove them wrong? Can he hang on to that knowledge of who he isn't and use it as a stepping stone to reach for the light of the Trailblaze? And then use that light to reignite the spark in himself?
He's somewhat lost track of Mr. Yang's quiet ramblings, not completely focused any longer as he begins to wonder if he can seriously consider this impossible opportunity that sits before him. Might it be possible to live after all? If only...
"Do you play chess?"
He jerks back to attention, turning a bit to actually look straight at his companion for the first time tonight. Mr. Yang seems a little sheepish as he scratches the back of his neck.
"I only ask because...well, the Parlor Car is a little warmer, and has much more comfortable seating..." Dan Heng blinks. How long have they been sitting on the hard tile floor?
"And also, there's a chess board in the Parlor Car," he pushes himself up from the floor using only the wall for balance, and not his cane. Dan Heng knows by now the cane is far more than just a mobility device. Does he not summon it now out of fear Dan Heng might see it as a threat?
He's not sure how he feels about that.
And then he berates himself for not offering Mr. Yang a hand up and just remaining stupidly staring up at him from the floor.
"The best thing about chess," Mr. Yang continues, unruffled, "is we can play in absolute silence if you want to, or I can still tell you about our adventures, it's up to you. And you can focus as much or as little of your attention on that as you want...so, do you play?" He reaches out a hand, offering to help Dan Heng up from the floor.
He stares dumbly at the hand for a moment, still unable to form a verbal response, though at least he remembers to nod in affirmation that yes, he does play. A little at least.
Mr. Yang smiles, oddly pleased that he has received any sort of direct response, even if actual words still sit like unformed clay in Dan Heng's mouth. Belatedly, he reaches for the hand and lets himself be tugged upward.
He takes a moment to stamp some life into his numb legs, also using the opportunity to cover his renewed embarrassment at this entire night, at his actions and shortcomings, and waits for Mr. Yang to go ahead of him through the door.
"I'm going to grab a bathrobe and put together something for us to snack on. Come on out when you're ready." He doesn't wait for a response. Dan Heng stares after him for a moment before stepping over the threshold out into the train coach. The bathroom door that neither of them touched upon leaving, clicks softly shut behind him.
And the coach, though still dimmed for night, no longer feels at all threatening. It's just another storage area, a little cluttered and dusty, but not at all malevolent.
He makes his way slowly to the vestibule at the end, which takes him into...the Passenger Car. He hadn't been that far away after all. The Archive is at the opposite end of this coach, and he briefly pauses before its door, wondering if he should just go back to work and not bother Mr. Yang any further tonight.
He suspects Mr. Yang doesn't consider him a bother, though. He probably would respect Dan Heng's decision and leave him alone if he chooses to sequester himself back into the Archives. But oddly, he doesn't want to be alone. The terror is gone, but the empty pit of loneliness remains.
Chess and snacks in the Parlor Car in the middle of the night? With someone who wants his company? This he thinks maybe he can handle.
"Don't worry about the tiles in the bathroom. PomPom was thinking of doing a few renovations anyway," Mr. Yang sets a small tray down next to the chess board on the table before taking his own seat.
The lights in the Parlor are dimmed other than around this table. Dan Heng is staring out the window with some apprehension, but the view doesn't invoke in him the same discomfort as it did earlier, it's just the normal stars and planets they race past, same as always. Beautiful beyond any human understanding, but ultimately unthreatening.
He'll find PomPom in the morning though, and ask that his wages be garnished for the repairs to the tilework, regardless of Mr. Yang's assurance.
He glances down at the tray as Mr. Yang settles into the other plush seat. It holds a plate of assorted cookies, baked that afternoon by their Conductor, and two steaming mugs of...hot cocoa. Cookies and cocoa. How young does Mr. Yang think he is? But he can't find it in him to feel any more mortified tonight. It's only the two of them here, and Mr. Yang doesn't know the truth. And...this gesture fills him with an odd sort of warmth, moving outward from his chest.
He's had cocoa before, but never this rich and soothing. It's not too sweet, and just feels like a balm to his overwrought nerves. Sweets he almost never indulges in. He'd never developed much of a sweet tooth for things normal hatchlings, normal children, would take for granted. But he takes a cookie now and at the first bite realizes he is actually hungry, and the cookie tastes more like hope and acceptance than sugar.
Mr. Yang doesn't immediately launch back into his storytelling. Instead he catches Dan Heng's gaze from across the table, regarding him with an intensity that is almost frightening. Here it is Dan Heng thinks, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat. He's going to want an explanation after all.
But Mr. Yang doesn't ask again what had happened, why Dan Heng ended up a cowering mess on the floor of the bathroom, doesn't express any concern that Dan Heng's mental state might affect his work, and doesn't seem at all disappointed in him.
"We have a sort of unofficial policy here on the Express," again his tone is conversational and light. "Anything you don't want to talk about, no one will ever pry into. Everyone is entitled to their secrets. But I also want you to know that if you ever do want to talk about anything, if you just need someone who will listen without judgement, Himeko and I and even PomPom, are very good at listening. Remember: 'no man is an island'."
It's an utterly foreign concept to him but he realizes somewhere inside, something deep within him yearns to be known by someone else. Longs for a connection, just a simple friendship. What is it like to be able to rely on someone, and share with them your deepest fears, and hopes, and dreams? Is that the way to feel not so utterly alone in this cold universe?
If I could ever open up about myself with someone, I think it could be you...I think I can trust you.
The yearning brings another lump to his throat, but he swallows it down as well.
But if I could tell you about myself, would you think any less of me?
He respects Mr. Yang too much to burden him with this. It's too dangerous to consider opening up about himself. He should just leave. Not wait for another "episode", for them to give up on him after all and ask him to go, he should just leave right now...
But instead, he nods. It's not a promise to open up, it's...it's just an acknowledgement of the offer. That's it, just being polite.
Mr. Yang regards him a moment longer, like he's not entirely convinced maybe, but reaches forward to make the first move in their game.
Dan Heng has played chess before, a few times when there was another willing and bored crew member available. He doesn't remember when he'd first learned the game, has no idea if he plays well, but he manages to keep up and hold his own against Mr. Yang in several games across what remains of the night. He doesn't detect any sign that Mr. Yang is going easy on him, which is a relief because he doesn't want the man to think he has to keep tiptoeing around him.
And Mr. Yang continues his tales of adventure.
The lights in the Parlor slowly brighten.
"Ah, the Express is cycling into morning." Mr. Yang resigns the current game, and stretches as he rises from his seat. "Himeko and PomPom will be up soon. When I'm up early like this, I usually just go ahead and start breakfast for everyone. Want to help?"
When I'm up early like this...Why had Mr. Yang been up at such an unholy hour, and how had he ended up finding Dan Heng in a little-used bathroom? For all his voice had been composed and his actions deliberate and gentle, when Dan Heng thinks back, Mr. Yang had seemed a little disheveled, with dark smudges under his own eyes...and didn't all the private crew quarters have en suite bathrooms anyway? Is that why he was so composed while sitting with him? Did Mr. Yang understand more than Dan Heng had realized?
"Would you like to help?" He mentally shakes himself back to the present, there he goes ignoring the man again.
"I haven't really cooked anything before..." he doesn't give his words much thought until he sees the extremely pleased smile on Mr. Yang's face. His voice was a little croaky from disuse, but the words hadn't piled up and stuck like they had earlier.
"Nothing at all?"
He's read about food and cooking. He's read about a lot of things, and he knows the theory behind a lot of things, so theoretically, he knows how to prepare food. In actuality, he's never had the luxury of time or resources to actually cook anything, except...
"Eggs."
Mr. Yang's brows raise in question. Dan Heng may be able to speak again, but it's still difficult to elaborate.
"Scrambled eggs. In a crew cafeteria on a freighter...for the IPC." He isn't sure why that distinction seems important to him.
"So you worked as a line cook on an IPC freighter?" There is amusement in his voice, but Dan Heng doesn't think he's being made fun of.
"Once. Just the scrambled eggs." He didn't add that it had been another sleepless night, and he'd gone looking around the ship for a distraction. An overworked supervisor hadn't questioned his willingness to help without overtime pay, and had just pointed him toward the egg station where another overworked cook had given him all of 5 minutes to learn how to scramble dozens of eggs at a time without burning them. It hadn't been terribly difficult to keep the warming trays full and had required just enough focus that he could keep his anxieties at bay.
"How about I show you some other ways to prepare eggs? They'll taste a lot better than bulk-scrambled IPC eggs." He gestures toward the kitchen but Dan Heng still balks, "I might not be here long, there is no reason you need to take the time to..."
"It's no bother, and even if you're going to move on eventually," and here, Dan Heng detects just a touch of regret in Mr. Yang's voice, as if he really doesn't want Dan Heng to leave. "It's always good to learn a few of the more mundane life skills, don't you think?"
Mundane? That does sound kind of nice, actually, and when that hand rests again on his shoulder and tugs ever so gently, he turns to follow Mr. Yang into the Express's kitchen.
If anything, learning more about food preparation means he can contribute more to the Express's day to day operations, for as long as he's here anyway. He can show that they haven't made a mistake in asking him to join their crew.
And he can add the skills to his resume. He's still going to have to leave at some point but...maybe not quite yet.
-end