A/N: Weicca nation, population: 1.

Seriously, how the fuck is this the first Weicca fic both here and on AO3? Goddamn, this is too much pressure. I hope this lives up to my FT fic standards! Many thanks to Rhosinthorn for her feedback and editing skills!

I don't own EZ, Mashima does.

Sleep lies blanketed by the edge of the universe, and no matter how fast Edens Zero flies, it will always hover sequestered in nothingness.

He supposes one day, if expansion speed doesn't exceed escape velocity and entropy continues to rise, the universe will collapse and he'll be able to grasp sleep once more - but it won't matter by then because he'll be dead anyway.

(He's lying if he says he didn't wish then was now)

Weisz sighs and taps a screwdriver against the open control panel. It's only at Ivry's request that he'd even come down to the East wing to deal with the locked door. None of the Star Shines on board remember the password and Hermit is too busy wallowing in her room to put her coding to good use; this is not to say that he's even remotely close to as proficient as she is, but he's the best they have for now.

Privately, he hopes that his frustration will wear him out enough that he can nod off for a few hours for once. He's a scientist and knows damn well that even he can't sustain this pattern of two hours of sleep daily. It's only a matter of time before he crashes for good.

"Fuck," Weisz snarls, jamming the screwdriver into the jumble of wires and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. He's so fucking tired. The world is moving in slow motion and the colours are too bright and his eyes and head hurt so much he just wants to fucking sleep for once.

"That is a rough looking control panel, I'll give you that," Rebecca says from behind him.

Weisz turns his head - slowly, because if he goes too fast he gets dizzy and needs to sit down - and replies shortly, "It's a little late for you, don't you think?"

She shrugs and holds up two mugs of tea. "I have chamomile and lemongrass, and peach. What's your poison?"

"Chamomile, thanks." He accepts the mug and takes a sip, and suddenly he's aware he's actually shaking. His hands tremble so much the mug is in danger of falling; like the only thing keeping him still up until now was, ironically, movement. It hits him then that he can't recall the last time he'd sat down and done nothing. The past few weeks have been spent running about fixing things and fighting fucking space pirates and everything else in between. The first hint of chamomile on his tongue is as potent as a beta-blocker, and he's crashing from an adrenaline rush his body's grown to rely on. His heart rate drops and he can breathe again, except he's sort of forgotten how it feels to do that normally so everything comes crashing down on him in a dizzying rush. God, how have his weary bones held him this long? He can barely find it in him to fall to the ground with a modicum of dignity. He rips his heavy sweater off and takes another greedy gulp. Rebecca slides down next to him and drinks her tea more sedately, something that forces him to ease up a little. It's blissfully quiet for a few seconds, and then -

She says something, but all it is is static to him. He blinks roughly and forces himself to tune into her and not the overwhelming sound of his own blood in his ears. He must look appropriately confused, because she smiles and speaks again.

"I...you always stay up this late?" Rebecca asks gingerly, scraping her nails along the side of the mug. Something about the sleep deprivation has his senses on overdrive because it feels like she just stuck microphone feedback into his ear canal. At his wince, she drops her hand and mumbles an apology.

"Yeah. Bad habit."

"Professor Weisz - er, the other you never had that problem. In fact, he used to conk out at 10 PM sharp every day," Rebecca remembers fondly, raising her brows in a weak imitation of his and declaring, "'Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy and wise'. Get it? 'Cause wise and Weisz?"

If I kill him does it count as homicide or suicide? Weisz wonders. It doesn't matter. Dead is dead is six feet under no matter how you get there. He chugs the dregs of his tea and places the mug in front of him, rolling his shoulders. He's still unbelievably exhausted but his headache has given way to cotton-ball numbness and that's better than nothing at this point.

"How'd you find me?"

"Ivry," Rebecca says, "She mentioned you've been having some issues lately."

"Conniving witch," he mutters under his breath. So that's why she insisted he be here. Not because the stupid door needed to be unlocked but because she wanted them to talk. Fucking shit. He sighs and turns to face her. "Listen, Rebecca, it's not-"

"It must get lonely here, hm?" She meets his gaze evenly. There's not an ounce of pity or patronization in her eyes, the clarity of which strikes him. He's seen those pretty blues flash every hue possible when dealing with Shiki and the Star Shines, but never before have they looked so open. There's a gut-wrenching depth to them that catches the lie forming in his throat and has him swallowing it back harshly.

She smiles knowingly and offers up her mug. The peach isn't as overwhelming to taste as it is to smell, he thinks, sealing his mouth over where her lip gloss left imprints.

"What's keeping you up, Weisz? Is it the time jump? Or something else?"

"It's just - this!" Weisz points to the blackness outside. "This! It's the same. Nothing's changed, it's still the same stupid sky but I can't...I can't sleep. It's not the same. I know it is, but it isn't. I keep trying to rationalize it, like, this is the same fucking universe as before. No matter where we go - or when we go - we're always gonna be in this goddamn neverending bubble together, but it feels like I'm on the outside of it trying to be in it. I just...I'm trying. I wanna sleep. I can't."

Rebecca threads her fingers through his hair and massages his scalp gently. He's too weak to protest - hell, he doesn't want to protest. It's comfortable and it shouldn't be because boney shoulders have nothing on climate-controlled pillows, but the second his cheek hits her silky nightgown his whole body goes slack. With the heat of her skin comes a heavy wave he knows is the first inklings of sleep, the kind he has to fight against to keep his eyes open. Every accidental scrape of her nails against his skin is a chip off his will to stay awake. He's floating in space, and for the first time since this whole thing started, it feels right.

"What're you-?"

"Everything has changed. You're scared when you wake up you'll be somewhere different again, or we'll be gone, isn't it? I'll stay here with you, then," Rebecca says, and it knocks the breath clean out of his lungs because she gets it.

Somehow she's managed to make sense of his inane ramblings. Either that or she's more perceptive than he's been led to believe, but fuck, she gets him. Twenty-odd years with solitude as his only companion and the thought of these people blinking out of his existence as quickly as they'd come is just...terrifying. It's like the floor has been ripped out from beneath him and he's constantly free falling awake, his heart halfway to his throat and his sheets soaked clean through with sweat.

Eventually, it became easier to stay awake so it couldn't happen any more.

"...promise?" He can't help but ask. He'll be mortified in the morning if he remembers asking it at all, but for now it's becoming harder and harder to snap awake when he's finally able to sink into darkness without fear of being swallowed whole.

"Promise," Rebecca echoes, sliding her hand down to rub the base of his neck. "Sleep, Weisz."

(Later, when he wakes up, Weisz will wonder if the kiss she pressed to his forehead was a dream.)

A/N: I'm gonna look back on this in about a year and cringe because yikes characterization who, but mind you I'll have written enough Weicca by then to have a better grasp of how to write them.

Title was shamelessly borrowed from the poem 'To Sleep' by John Keats (which I also don't own), and the first sentence of the summary was a not so subtle nod to my favourite Nietzsche quote.

I hope you liked it anyway? Next up, Weicca smut. Which will be on AO3 exclusively, I don't want my ffn yeeted to the abyss over lemons.

Please review!

-Eien