The hum of the AZX train faded as Arthur and Diesel stepped onto the platform at Central Plaza station. The Ark's artificial evening had deepened, casting a subdued amber light over the sprawling memorial site. Banners fluttered gently in the recycled air, emblazoned with solemn messages of remembrance for the AFX train attack victims. The plaza, usually a hub of commerce and chatter, had transformed into a sea of quiet reflection, dotted with flickering holographic candles and flower arrangements. It was nearing midnight, the official ceremonies long concluded, but a few stragglers lingered, their faces etched with private grief.
Diesel clutched the bag from their shopping excursion, her earlier levity tempered by the weight of the moment. Arthur walked beside her, his tactical coat swaying with each step, the concealed pistol a silent reminder of his readiness for any threats. He glanced at her, noting the subtle tension in her posture—the way her dark hair caught the light, framing a face that mixed determination with vulnerability.
As they approached the central monument—a towering obelisk engraved with the names of the fallen—Diesel's steps slowed. The structure loomed like a sentinel, its surface illuminated by soft blue projections that scrolled through the list of victims. She scanned the names, her breath catching. "There," she whispered, pointing to a section midway up. "Ethan. That's him. My little brother."
Arthur stood close, his presence a steady anchor. He watched as memories flooded her, her eyes glazing over with the haze of recollection. In her mind's eye, the scene unfolded anew: the crowded AFX train car, alive with laughter and anticipation. Ethan, no more than twelve, bounced in his seat, his eyes wide with excitement. "Sis, look! The Ark's skyline is coming up. Do you think we'll see Andersen waving from his office?" His voice was bright, unscarred by the world's cruelties.
Diesel had smiled then, ruffling his hair. "Maybe, kiddo. But remember, we're here for the fun part—the treats and the stories." She handed him a strawberry candy, watching him savor it with exaggerated delight. The train rattled on, passengers chatting idly, oblivious to the shadows lurking. Then, the first tremor—a distant explosion that silenced the car. Panic erupted as Heavenly Ascension operatives revealed themselves, their faces twisted in fanatic zeal. "For ascension!" one shouted, detonating a device that tore through the carriage.
Ethan's hand gripped hers tightly. "Sis, what's happening?" Fear cracked his voice. She pulled him close, shielding him as debris flew. Another blast, closer this time, and the world inverted in a cacophony of screams and crumpling metal. She reached for him amid the chaos, but smoke and flames separated them. His final cry—"Sis!"—echoed as darkness claimed her.
Back in the present, Diesel blinked away tears, the memory raw and unrelenting. She knelt before the monument, her hands trembling as she unpacked the items from their day: the Choo Choo Splendamin wrappers, the Ark Ranger toy set, the bag of strawberry candies, and even the signed Commander's Manual. She arranged them carefully at the base, a makeshift offering. "Ethan... I'm so sorry," she murmured, her voice breaking. "I haven't come before. The nightmares... they kept me away. But I'm here now. I miss you every day. Forgive me for taking so long."
Arthur observed silently, his heart aching for her. She bowed her head, palms pressed together in silent prayer, tears tracing glistening paths down her cheeks. In that moment, she was utterly still, like a sculpture carved from sorrow—her form rigid, yet fragile, the artificial wind tousling her hair as if the Ark itself mourned with her. He resisted the urge to interrupt, giving her the space to grieve.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Finally, Diesel rose, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She turned to Arthur, a faint, weary smile breaking through. "That's it. I've paid my respects. Finally made peace, I think. Sorry if this bored you—dragging you out here so late. We can call it a day now. I'll visit again, I promise him that."
He shook his head, his voice warm with genuine pride. "Bored? Not a chance. I'm proud of you, Diesel. This took real strength. You've honored him well."
Her smile widened slightly, but then a playful glint entered her eyes as she recalled something from earlier. "You know, back in the quarters, when I was still half-asleep... you called me 'Big Sis' again to snap me out of it. It worked, but now you're all red-faced about it? Admit it, you had no choice, right?"
Arthur felt a flush creep up his neck, his usual composure faltering. He rubbed the back of his head, averting his gaze. "Yeah, well... it was the only way to get through to you. Don't read too much into it. I didn't enjoy playing pretend brother or anything."
She laughed softly, stepping closer, her demeanor shifting from teasing to something more intent. "Liar. I think you did enjoy it, just a little. But here's the thing—right now, I don't want you acting like my brother anymore. Because if you were... there's something I couldn't do with you."
Before he could process her words, she closed the distance, her lips meeting his in a gentle, lingering kiss. It was soft at first, a tentative expression of gratitude and budding affection, but it deepened with the emotion of the day. Arthur's initial surprise melted into reciprocation, his prosthetic arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer. The memorial's lights cast a warm glow around them, the world fading to just the two of them.
When they parted, Diesel searched his face, noting the flicker of astonishment in his red eyes—no, his were brown, but in the light, they seemed to hold depths. "Thank you, Arthur. For everything today. For helping me through this."
He blinked, composing himself. "That... caught me off guard. But you're welcome. You okay? Really?"
She nodded, her cheerful demeanor returning, though laced with a new intimacy. "I'm fine now. Better than fine. I just hope you'll stick around—for me, and for Ethan's memory. Be with us in the future?"
"Of course," he promised, his voice steady. "I'm not going anywhere. You've got me hooked too, you know."
Diesel chuckled, a mischievous spark in her eyes. "Hooked? Like a fish on a line? Yeah, that's me—reeled in by your charm, Commander. But if you think I'm still struggling..."
She leaned in again, this time the kiss more assured, passionate, her hands framing his face, fingers tracing the line of his beard. Arthur responded in kind, the connection electric, a promise of more in the harem of bonds he was building. The kiss lingered, charged with the release of her grief and the spark of new beginnings.
As they broke apart, the first hints of the Ark's simulated dawn crept over the horizon, painting the plaza in hues of gold and rose. They stood there, basking in the glow, Diesel's face alight with a brilliant smile that chased away the last shadows of her trauma. She looked radiant, renewed.
"Come on," she said, linking her arm with his. "Let's head back. This feels like a bright new dawn—for both of us."
They walked away from the monument, the weight of the past lifting, embracing the possibilities ahead. Arthur's mind raced with thoughts of the Outpost, his Monarks, and now, this deepening tie with Diesel. In a world of Raptures and conspiracies, moments like these were anchors, forging alliances that went beyond duty.
The train ride back to the terminal was quiet, but comfortably so. Diesel rested her head on his shoulder, her exhaustion finally catching up in a peaceful way. Arthur reflected on the day—the laughter in the shopping district, the catharsis at the memorial, the unexpected kisses that hinted at a romantic entanglement. He was no stranger to polyamorous relationships; his bonds with Scarlet, Nyx, and others were testaments to that. Adding Diesel felt natural.
Upon arriving at the crew quarters, Brid and Soline were waiting, their expressions a mix of concern and relief. Brid crossed her arms, practical as ever. "You two finally made it back. How'd it go?"
Diesel beamed, hugging Arthur's arm. "It was perfect. I faced it, thanks to him."
Soline nodded, her focused gaze softening. "Good. We were worried, but the memorial was moving. Andersen spoke well."
Arthur exchanged glances with them, sensing the undercurrent of shared trauma. "If you all need anything—support, resources—the Outpost is open. We're in this together."
Brid's composed facade cracked into a small smile. "Appreciated, Commander. Maybe we'll take you up on that."