Forward and onward, the train pushed on. It was mostly quiet in car 5, which had granted Micky some sort of peace of mind. He had expected the lecture: "you're young, there's still so much left for you to experience, et cetera, et cetera." But no, it was quiet. The only sounds that filled the car were the sounds of flipping cards from Davy's lonely game of solitaire and the slow sleeping breaths of Mike and Peter, keeping almost perfect rhythm. He had already begun to tune out the sound of the train chugging along the track.

While it was comforting, Micky felt a pain in his chest and the silence started to become unbearable and unnatural to him.

"Hey," he said, breaking the silence as he sat down beside Davy. "How are you?"

Davy didn't even look up as he shrugged.

"Tired," he said quietly.

"Oh," Micky said. "Well, you should get some rest if you're tired and—"

"Won't do any good," Davy sighed. "My body up there is tired, so it won't matter if I got any sleep down here."

Micky frowned, but nodded, turning to watch his game over his friend's shoulder.

"You winning?" He asked. Once again, Davy shrugged.

"Too early to tell," he said, drawing another card and laying it on the table. Once again, the train car fell into silence for a couple of minutes before Davy spoke up.

"You wanna bet?" He asked him. "Might make it a little more interesting."

"Bet in solitaire?" Micky laughed. "How do you do that?"

Davy wasn't as amused at the comment as Micky was.

"After this game," he explained. "We can bet on something. Blackjack or poker or…"

"We need more people," Micky said. "You know, a dealer and a couple of players—"

"When they're awake," Davy said, gesturing to the other two. "Maybe we'll have enough."

Micky smiled, nodding.

"Well, alright," he said with a smile. "I accept! What're we betting with?"

"Whatever we can get from Tommy," he said. "Food, drinks…you think he's got cigarettes?"

"You shouldn't smoke while you're sick," he said, turning down to watch the game again. Davy shrugged.

"You never know," he said. "It could help. Calm me down a little, you know?"

He let out a sigh as he placed a card down, a small smile on his face.

"Could be the thing they were missing all these years," he said. "Not letting me smoke. Maybe that's what's gonna cure me. And I don't think an imaginary one's gonna do any harm."

"If you say so," Micky said. "Besides, I'm pretty sure Tommy is supposed to give us whatever we ask for, to make our trip a little more 'bearable', or whatever."

"You know from experience, don't you?" Davy asked, his small smile growing to a full grin.

"Hell, yeah," Micky said proudly, more happy to his friend smile than anything else.

Davy lost the game not too long after that. He had tried again and again, put in a good fight, but just couldn't get it. He had gotten very close, three cards in the deck and five more face down on the table, but he just couldn't do anything about it. Not even cheating worked. He sighed and pushed the cards back into a deck formation.

"Sorry man," Micky said as he did.

"For what?" He asked. "It's just a game."

"Yeah," he said. "Bad luck, I guess? I mean, you can't really do anything if you get a bad hand."

Davy didn't answer that. Instead, he turned his head back away and shuffled the deck once again.

"You want me to call Tommy and ask for a cigarette?" Micky offered. "Might help."

"Nah, I shouldn't," he said. "Besides, it's not real. Won't do any good."

"Okay," Micky said, leaning back into the seat. "Then I won't."

Davy looked down, focusing on shuffling the cards with hands that had begun shaking.

"You want me to deal?" Micky asked, noticing his friend's current state.

"No, no, I can do this," he said, distributing the cards between the two of them. "You guys are a-always treating me like I can't do stuff on my own."

Micky frowned, unsure where the words were being directed.

"I can do this," Davy said again. "I can."

"Okay," Micky said, offering him a slight smile. "I believe in you and we're all here supporting you, you know. You're doing great."

Davy didn't answer when he suddenly set the deck down, his breathing becoming heavier. Something that didn't go unnoticed by Micky.

"Davy?" He asked gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "What is it?"

But Davy kept his head down, his eyes closed.

"You sure you don't want one?" Micky asked him, a sudden worried tone in his voice. "I can ask Tommy for a cigarette if you think that'll help." Hesitantly, Davy shook his head, standing up and leaning against the chairs to keep his balance.

"Where are you going?"

"I…I'm tired," Davy said finally, going to a new seat. "Think I'm just gonna have a minute to myself if that's alright."

"Oh," Micky said. "Oh, okay. Do you need—?"

"No," he said, rubbing his arms as if cold. "I'm fine. I just—I'm fine."

"Okay," he said, putting on a smile. "Good night."

He fiddled with the pack of cards in his hands to pass the time and take his mind off of worries, organizing them to be a full deck once again. He flipped through, focusing on the numbers and faces. There were two aces of spades and a joker had been taken. Odd, but nothing suspicious, he thought to himself as he looked around the sleeping train car and once again, Micky was left with nothing but silence and his own thoughts. Sighing, he closed his eyes and laid himself down across the seat, hoping that it might do any good.