(Spoiler Alert: This story takes place after the end of Book 3 and contains major spoilers.)
(Headcanon Note: I also have a headcanon that Grace is bi and that she became more shy and withdrawn, especially towards denizens after the events that led her to become the passenger she is now.)
To Be Still with Love
After everything that occurred upon Grace's last exchange with Simon, her mind wandered from topic to topic. Despite years conquering each cart and familiarizing herself with how infinite the train was, Grace, for the first time in ages, admittedly felt utterly lost and confused. Her confidence was shaken, not broken. She was determined to keep going in the face of losing the person she considered her closest and dearest friend, Simon, and the one denizen whom she regretted letting go, Hazel. As her eyes wandered, she sputtered her lips which helped her feel a bit more grounded. Taking in her surroundings, the smell of savory spices enticed her. The sound of Grace's sole footsteps echoed around her and the reminder of this caused her heart to drop. Musing to herself, her thoughts repeated, "I'm alone, I'm alone, I'm alone, and... I'm here." Steadily grabbing ahold the handle although a bit brazenly, she opened the door, unaware of how forcefully she held onto it. Entering the room, the sights inside welcomed and surprised her.
She carefully turned her tired head around, pleased with the view. The aroma of sweet-smelling coffee filled her nose. Cautiously stacked plates, cups, bowls, and rows upon rows of beverages with names Grace could not pronounce stretched as far as she could see. It was a rarity to catch a cart with sincere simplicity and rest in mind. Especially food! She needed this the most, after how many hours, days, weeks, or months since she... She grimaced, wishing to repress the thought of remembering. Yet, the fact of the matter is that she will never forget.
Desperately focusing her attention elsewhere, she counted the number of chairs and tables around her, attentively focusing on their varying sizes, and drab, crimson color that graduated to a light, velvety, red violet. This activity allowed her to calm her once racing heartbeat. Marching up to the counter, her voluminous dreadlocks sprung up and down. She locked eyes with a youthful, attractive denizen, who seemed to be a mermaid. Her flowing locks reminded her of the depths of the ocean. Her coral blue irises sparkled her face, and shimmers traced circles down her skin, as if she was an angel. Staring a bit longer than intended, Grace's cheeks started to warm, then cleared her throat and raised her voice, "Ah…"
She realized she tended to speak softer due to living life without the requirement of demanding all eyes on her. Attempting to continue, she started to become befuddled, lost in thought. The sea sweetheart observed Grace's hesitation. Immediately, she kindly cooed, "Good evening, dear, it's been ages since we've had our last customers!" Her silky lips framed her smile impeccably. She pleaded, "May I ask if you would like a cup of hazelnut coffee on the house?" She closed her eyes while giggling. Soon, a moment of abject terror came over her as she fixated on Grace. Without hesitation, gently, she placed a plain pitcher near her darling customer. However, its slight thump on the counter could not reach Grace's ears. Afterward, her hands maneuvered over her music box that she engineered to play a soothing song peacefully with enough volume to fill the air. As if it were routine, she fondly started cooking today's special. The sight unfolding was not uncommon to her; she only yearned to do more for her passengers, as her eyes met Grace, yet again.
The room around Grace slowly faded into a blur. Her mind started to stir. The sound of her heartbeat blared in her head, as each pulse shook the remnants of the room fleeting her vision. Her eyes glazed, unfocused. In the moment, Hazel was in front of her, clutching onto her hand. The eyes she still loved and wished to smile into was tear-filled and sunken. A high-pitched voice shrieked, "Grace! Simon's gonna kill me! Grace! I'm afraid of the wheels! The wheels! Grace!" The memory of Hazel wilted as Simon's hand grabbed hers. She thought to herself, "I don't owe you anything." All she could hear ringing in her ears now was hysterical laughter. She solemnly sighed, and inaudibly whispered, "I didn't mean to." The sensation of Hazel and Simon weighed on her chest and hand. Tears started to well up in her eyes as words scrawled through her half-coherent thoughts, "I-I... I-loved you…" A tingling came over her. She inhaled sharply again and again until she could process there was a pitcher of ice cubes with a glass of water on the counter. She identified its properties to herself, "It is gray. It is round." Her hand trembled; she clutched the ice. Feeling the frigidness melt into the heat of her palm shocked her.
Staring intensely at her palm, she identified the emerald engraved number flicker, then dropping down to 142,240. With the same resilience she dragged herself out of the tape she was entrapped in, Grace taught herself various meanings of love and help; these same sentiments, she dearly desired to return to Hazel and, at once, Simon. While unable to articulate this feeling in her trek across the train, over time, she discovered the truth equaled in that she was alone; she still had herself.
Across the stool in front of her, laid a mirror, prompting her to remember she was still here. Gently placing her steps in front of each other and mindfully ticking off the numbers on her fingers, she sat down. Her eyes fixed on her reflection, a sight she now preferred to avoid. As she gradually raised her left hand towards the mirror, her reflection waved back at her. She then forced herself to softly turn the corners of her lips upward. Her secured smile was met by the mermaid, empathetically gazing into her eyes. Silently with a sky-blue blush painted across her cheeks, she set a hearty, grilled cheese sourdough sandwich in front of Grace. An olive atop a toothpick crowned the former leader's lunch who no longer needed to rule to feel companionship.
The hazelnut coffee blended with semi-sweet almond milk lent it a far frothier color. Using both of her hands to grasp the reflective cup, its warmth enveloped her fingers. Tenderly, Grace lifted the coffee to her mouth and allowed herself to take her time to sip, sit, and just be. It was one of the few gifts she had given herself, as solitude was a faraway memory that became the new normal for her. Despite the bittersweet taste dwelling in her mouth, she struggled and stomached her doubt, fears, and insecurities continuously, though found that to be by herself is to be still with love.