Whether it be that they had no concept of day or night or time in general on the train, or the fact they were having fun, the days seemed to get much shorter the more time the boys spent with one another. And after a while, Mike was able to tune out what happened in the world above, for better or for worse. But it didn't matter to him that he no longer heard his family or the doctors anymore, it made no difference after all.

"Hard candy, fruit candy, or chocolate?" Micky asked the group, separating and dispersing the cards between them.

"All of these are about food," Mike pointed out, slightly amused. With every question he asked, it was obvious there was only one thing on Micky Dolenz's mind.

"What?" He scoffed, mockingly offended. "I miss food."

"Yeah, well, there's food on the train," Peter shrugged.

"But it's not real," Micky whined. "I miss real food."

Mike smirked, looking at his cards.

"And I bet real food misses you too, Micky."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Um…I'm not much of a candy person," Mike said with a shrug. "I like fruit, though as a nice treat."

Davy smiled and looked over at Micky.

"Chocolate, all the way," he said, almost sternly. "No question about it."

"Good boy," Micky said, patting the Brit's head. Davy growled at him for the gesture, but kept to himself.

"I don't know," Peter said with a shrug. "I like all of it."

Micky nods in approval and looks over at Peter.

"It's your turn to ask us a question now."

"Okay," Peter said, placing his card on the stack. "Apples or oranges?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?" Micky laughed. Peter blushed and looked down, embarrassed thinking he had asked a dumb question.

"It's fine, Peter," Mike said reassuringly, placing his hand on the blonde's shoulder. "And I'm much more of an apple guy, myself."

"Please tell me you're joking, Nez," Micky only laughed more. Mike's eyes widened in amusement.

"What? What'd I say?"

"Apples are so bland and boring," Micky said, shaking his head in disapproval. "At least oranges have a flavor to them."

"Hey, apples have a flavor too!" Mike defended, only making Micky laugh more.

"Of course you like apples," he muttered under his breath, putting his own card down.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"He means you're bland and boring," Davy explained. "Like an apple."

"Well, they aren't very bland and boring if you give them a chance, now are they?" Mike challenged. Micky looked at him, eyes wide, and a wide grin grew on his face.

"Well played, Nesmith," he said, causing Mike to smile as well. "Well played."

Mike grinned and turned over to Davy.

"What about you?" He asked. "Apples or oranges?"

Davy thought about it for a minute and shrugged.

"I guess apples," he said quietly, looking down at the cards in his hands. "I haven't had an orange in a long time and I thought I remembered them being okay."

"Why haven't you had an orange in a long time?" Peter asked, frowning. "I mean, if you're okay with me asking."

Davy sighed and nodded, Micky going to him, worried.

"It's fine," he said, not looking up as he put his card down. "They told me to avoid citrus fruits for a while. It ended up being fine and there was nothing in the citric acid that was a problem, but we wanted to be safe so I haven't eaten much oranges and stuff."

Mike frowned, confused and slightly concerned by Davy's story. There was an awkward moment of silence where they waited for Davy to elaborate on his story, but he never did. Finally he let out a deep sigh and looked up.

"I mean, it's fine," he said, trying to reassure the concerned faces around him. "They thought it might be a problem before but then it wasn't."

"If you're able to eat fruit when you get back," Micky said, wrapping his arm around his friend. "I'll treat you to a nice orange."

And to that, Davy laughed.

"Out of all the 'welcome back to living' gifts I could get," he said, laughing. "You're gonna get me an orange."

Micky beamed and nodded.

"Of course!"

Davy got his laughter under control and rolled his eyes at Micky.

"Better keep the orange frozen or something," he said, still smiling. "It's gonna take a while before I can get home."

Micky sighed and Mike watched as the tone of the conversation changed almost instantly with Davy's comment.

"It's true, though," Davy said with a frown. "I've been here longer than all of you have."

"Yeah, I know that," Micky said, shaking his head. "But still, that doesn't mean that you will have to wait much longer to get off."

Davy sighed.

"I don't wanna go back," he said darkly. "I don't even care anymore—"

"Davy—"

"I don't!" Davy snapped, jumping up. "I don't care and I don't know why you want me to sit here and pretend like I do!"

"You do care, Davy," Micky said gently. "That's the thing. I know you do because I know how much you hate this train. Whether or not you want to go back to your life, you can't tell me that you don't want to at least go back to living."

"I don't," Davy said harshly. "Okay? I don't. I don't wanna go back to living, there's no point to it!"

"No point to living?" Mike asked, unsure if he was even really following the conversation. Davy groaned.

"I-it's probably been a few weeks, maybe a few months, I'm sure everyone has already forgotten about me at this point."

"That's not true," Micky tried to reason, but Davy was furious at this point.

"Oh, but it is," Davy said, going to Mike. "And you can't tell me that it isn't."

"Give me your ticket," he said, holding out his hand. "You're the most recent person here, meaning your boarding date is going to be closest to what day it actually is down there."

Mike frowned, doubting if he should or not, as he reached into his pocket and handed the ticket to Davy. Davy read it over, his expression of anger faded and turned to sadness as he saw the date.

"February 12, 1965…?" Davy read off the ticket. He looked up at Mike, tears filling in his eyes. Mike frowned and nodded slowly, watching as the other two seemed just as shocked at the date as Davy was.

"That can't be true," Micky tried to laugh it off, but there was a pain in his heart as he knew it was.

"Already 1965?" Peter asked worriedly. Mike nodded again.

"Oh…"

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"I-it's 1965…" Davy whispered, going to his seat and curling up into a ball.

"How long have you been here, Davy?" Mike asked, slowly approaching him. Davy sniffled and pulled his ticket from his pocket, handing it to Mike.

"December 28, 1962."

Mike's eyes widened. Davy looked like he was only a kid, and he had been on the train for over two years.

"I-I-I was two more days before I turned 17…t-t-two more days…" he sniffled and wiped his face on his hand. "N-n-not even a h-happy birthday o-or hello or anything."

He began sobbing, hiding his face in his hands. Mike sat beside him, not saying anything as he wrapped his arm around Davy, pulling him into a hug. Davy sobbed into Mike's shoulder and Mike began rubbing his back, trying to calm him down as he cried. Eventually, the crying eventually put him to sleep. Even as Davy fell asleep, Mike decided to stay with him until he woke up again.