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╰┈➤ You are dead. Buried in rubble as a result of what happened on Penacony, you were the only one who didn't survive. Dan Heng was forced to watch, unable to do anything to prevent it.
2.2 SPOILERS!!! ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
The onslaught of dust and wind from the ethereal theater of Penacony collapsing nearly knocked the Astral Express crew off of their feet. It was over. The battle with Sunday had concluded, meeting its grand finale. Victory seemed to favor the Astral Express, but at a harsh cost.
"No—! Please, Akivili, no—!"
Against the harsh swirls of debris, a dark-haired guard raced towards the clump of fallen ceiling. The tower of debris hovered over a pool of golden liquid, one that made it evident that the beloved Trailblazer was returning to the arms of Nanook. Dan Heng's eyes narrowed with anguish. His hands seized hold of the debris, his breaths heaved as he attempted to pry them off of your crushed body, all whilst crying out to a god that would not even cast a glance in his direction. The atmosphere was stagnant, all apart from Dan Heng's struggle. He pried again and again, even after his hands began to bleed. He begged for your survival, although all knew it was impossible.
"I can't watch this." Said a cowboy's voice. The Galaxy Ranger Boothill raced up behind Dan Heng, wrapping his arms around the guard's torso. As Boothill pried him away from the scene, Dan Heng reached out for you, shrieking your name like he had just been stabbed through his heart. Boothill's hat cast a shadow over his eyes as he restrained Dan Heng, even as he succumbed to hysterics. Dan Heng's voice grew strained as realization sank in. "...please," he begged in a hoarse whisper. "Come back to me." He pleaded. Boothill heaved a sigh. "Look, Dan Heng, they're gone." He said, his tone as soft as it could get. "I.." Dan Heng trailed off. "Why?" He choked out. He wanted to curse the universe. He wanted to scream until he fainted. He yearned to join you, wherever you'd end up. He couldn't withstand that kind of pain; living a life without you was pure hell for him.
Boothill, having experienced something similar, began to pull Dan Heng back, still hugging onto his torso. "C'mon, Dan Heng, this won't do anything. It ain't gonna bring 'em back." He said, his tone gentle, though his words were blunt. Dan Heng glanced over his shoulder, his eyes pouring tears. His expression was scrunched, his vision a complete blur. He looked as though something in him had just died, never to return. Boothill slowly shook his head as he met Dan Heng's gaze. "I'm sorry." That was the final straw. Dan Heng simply burst out into hysterics, bawling and shrieking at the top of his lungs. He turned towards Boothill, hiding his face in his metal chest. Boothill pat Dan Heng's back sorrowfully. "It's not your fault." He said. Dan Heng could only sob as a response. He sobbed and sobbed, screaming at nothing but himself. He cursed himself for doing nothing, for being useless, for losing you, and for not telling you all of the things that he so desperately wanted to tell you. He wanted to sit down in the archives with you, sipping steaming tea and laughing as you made a mess. He wanted to see you smile as he taught you a new trick. He wanted to see your determined glances in his direction whenever it was time to take action.
To Boothill, this was akin to watching his younger self as his homeland burned to the ground. The pain of losing someone right before your very eyes without being able to so much as say goodbye was a pain that he wished to spare Dan Heng from, but ultimately failed to do. In a way, he blamed himself. He blamed himself for dragging Dan Heng out there, just for him to watch you brutally die. If Dan Heng weren't hysterically sobbing, he would have told Boothill the same— that it was not his fault. He knew that better than anyone. It would never be Boothill's fault. There was nothing that he could have done. But that's precisely what pained Dan Heng the most. There was nothing that he could do but cry. Cry and beg for you. Scream to be held by you, only answered with a cold, metal embrace. Dan Heng would rather have his heart pierced from his chest than this. This pain was far worse. This agony was something that he could never recover from. This was enough to kill him.
"Oh my God," sobbed Dan Heng. "They're gone.." He heaved his breaths as he bawled onto Boothill's shoulder. Boothill lowered his eyes. "Yeah. They are." He nodded slowly. "They were a good one, weren't they?" Even his voice sounded strained.
Of course March was crying. She was hugging Himeko, who shed tears all the same. Even Welt cried. His face was stony, but his eyes betrayed him. Boothill used his dominant hand to pinch the edge of his hat, tipping it to disguise his crying expression as he began to silently sob.
They'd make sure to honor you well. All of Penacony would. But that would never repair Dan Heng. He lost his soul that day. That day, he watched a piece of him get crushed. He watched his very reason for life slip through his fingers, never to be seen again. That killed him, yet he'd never join you. Ever.
The dream was over, but Dan Heng was never ready to accept reality.
