You lead her down the corridors of the Astral Express. The hum of the engine is steady beneath your feet. You stop at the observation deck, the place feels smaller than it did with March here. You remember her pressed against your side, laughing at some joke you don’t quite recall.

Evernight stands beside you, hands folded neatly, red eyes dead and unblinking. She does not lean against you. She does not laugh. She is still, distant.

You tell her about that night. How March laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks, how she would pout every time you teased her. Evernight tilts her head slightly, listening. You don’t know exactly why you’re telling her all of this as if she doesn’t already remember, but it makes you feel a little closer to this version of March.

You move to the railing, leaning slightly. She mirrors you. Exact. But the space between you feels larger than it should. She is part of the past, yet unreachable now.

You tell her about the power outage on that happened on the express, and how March pretended she wasn’t afraid of the dark. Evernight nods slightly in remembrance, even naming details you had forgotten. The hum of the engine, Pom-Pom’s reassuring yet panicked voice, the way March clung onto your arm.

You reach out as if the two of you were going to reenact that scene, brushing the edge of her sleeve.

She does not flinch, doesn’t not react at all. The moment is close. Too close, maybe. You can’t seem to understand what’s going through her head, but she knows exactly what’s going through yours.