Chapter Text
The next day, I go about my morning routine as normal. I can practically feel Rocky watching me as I pour myself one of the last cups of coffee I've got left (I'll need it for this conversation). He's being surprisingly patient though; maybe he thinks if I don't eat before diving into what happened last night, I'll break down again. He's not wrong. I'm pretty sure I've explained the concept of "hangry" to him before, and a hangry Grace is not a pleasant Grace.
There's an annoying crick in my back and neck from sleeping slouched against Rocky's xenonite walls all night, but I don't regret it in the slightest. Despite the aches, I feel more rested than I have in months. Not only does my skin feel calmer, it's as if a layer of fog has been removed from my thoughts. Most of the fuzziness still hovers tightly around me, but a few wisps have drifted off, and everything feels more… here. More present, like I'm settling back into my body. I hadn't even noticed I'd left.
With my coffee made and my coma-slurry breakfast finished, I let out a resigned sigh before turning around to face my silent companion. I'm really not looking forward to this conversation. Rocky sits very still, as if any sudden movements will scare me off. Once again, a wave of all too familiar guilt washes over me. He was really scared last night. Heck, he's been really scared, and somehow, I've completely missed it. What kind of friend am I?
I settle down on the floor, criss-cross apple sauce. The blanket is still wrapped around my shoulders; I haven't taken it off since waking up. The coffee is warm in my shaking hands, and I grip it tightly even as the heat grows painful. I've had worse burns.
"Um," I say, because I'm awful at starting normal conversations, let alone whatever this is. "So."
"So." Rocky hums back. Great. Thanks for the help, bud.
I sigh, and my shoulders drop in defeat. Guess I'm going to have to jump right in.
"I… might've forgotten to tell you something about humans. Something important."
Immediately he hums in frustration, his carapace quivering a little.
"What Grace forget? Why not tell sooner?"
I scowl, that familiar irritation creeping in. "I told you, I forgot. Amnesia, remember? Plus, I only remembered it last night, and it's not, like, a common thing."
"Human memory stupid. What good if forget important health things?"
"Not the point! Do you want me to tell you what's wrong or not?"
Rocky quiets down. "Apology, continue."
I think he understands that I'm not up for this kind of banter at the moment, and I'm grateful he drops it so quickly. I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes, heaving a sigh as I try and wrangle my thoughts. I can already feel a headache coming on, and we haven't even started. Great.
I start again. "So. Humans are really social creatures. Some more than others, some less, but we all need a certain amount of affection to stay healthy."
"Rocky give Grace lots of affection. Should give more, question?"
I shake my head. "No, you're not doing anything wrong. You give me lots of affection! There's just… one aspect of it you can't give." I take a deep breath, trying to steady the quaver in my voice. "You can never give, actually."
Rocky's carapace bobs up and down. "Disagree. Rocky very good engineer, can fix any problem. Grace say problem now."
He's certainly confident, that's for sure. And stubborn. My heart aches a little at his determination and utter confidence that this is, in fact, a problem that can be solved. He hasn't even heard it yet, and he's committed to fixing it. Just for me. I feel tears begin to well up in my eyes, and I try and blink them away.
"Rock, this- it's not- you literally can't solve this. It's physically impossible."
"Disagree."
"Rocky-"
"Grace stalling!" He snaps, frustration practically radiating off of him. "Answer Rocky now. What is wrong?"
He's right, I am stalling. Once a coward, always a coward, I guess. What am I even so afraid of? That he'll think less of me? That's dumb, he's seen me break down multiple times over the past three years. This is nothing new. I'm being stupid, and the longer I wait the more I worry him. I need to suck it up and just freaking say it.
"Fine! Humans need touch, okay? Physical touch, not just through a barrier. We need skin to skin contact or else we get crazy depressed and just generally messed up!" The words burst out of me in a rush, like a dam finally breaking somewhere inside. I'm blinking frantically, desperately trying to keep the tears at bay. "I only realized it last night, that I haven't touched another person in three years. Seven years, actually!"
It's no use, the tears are flowing freely now. I always was a touchy kid, constantly clinging to my parents and seeking out hugs for the smallest inconveniences. Maybe that's why I'm struggling so much? I messily wipe my sleeve across my face, trying in vain to dry the tears. All I succeed in doing is smearing them across my face. "A-and… the last touch I can remember was… w-was…"
It was that day. The last touches I felt before being sent to my death were the rough, bruising hands of my murderers as they held me down in the dirt and shoved a needle into my neck. My last memory of human touch is pain I think, and oh, that thought sends me reeling. I laugh, a choked, almost manic sound, before pressing my head against my knees and wrapping my arms around myself once again. The coffee sloshes against the side of the mug as I roughly set it down, spilling a little over the top. The buzzing in my limbs back, and my hands are shaky because of it.
Through all of this, Rocky sits as still and silent as a statue. He's more frozen than I've ever seen him; he's always moving in some way, fiddling with some project or bobbing back and forth. Now, it's as if he's frozen in place.
"…How often humans need touch, question?"
His quavering voice is so small I nearly miss it. I can't bring myself to look at him, so I keep my head down and mumble a response I know he'll hear regardless.
"Depends. I don't like going more than a week without it."
A high pitched, keening wail breaks the silence. The only other time I've heard Rocky make a noise like this was during the Adrian disaster, when he thought I was going to die. Back then, the cry felt more desperate, more fearful. Now, I think the noise Rocky's making is more akin to deep, deep sadness.
The cry cuts off and I look up, alarmed, to watch him scuttling away from me, turning a corner and vanishing from sight. A pang of hurt shoots through me, and I clench my teeth to keep the wail I feel welling up inside from escaping. I can feeling myself spiraling (why did he leave? Did I do something wrong? Maybe he realized how weak I am and doesn't want anything to do with me-), but before my thoughts can take over completely, I hear him again. This time, he's outside his environment and in his xenonite ball.
Oh. I'm stupid. He left to get into his ball.
Rocky nearly rams into me, he's going so fast. I'm thankful he doesn't, because I do not want a 400 pound rock spider in an indestructible ball hitting me at that speed. I'd probably die.
"Bad! Bad bad bad! Grace no touch for 365 weeks, very bad! Worse than bad, awful!"
I think he's doing the Eridian equivalent of pacing back and forth as he rolls his ball in a circle around the room, shouting the whole time, before finally settling down in front of me.
"Not really…" I sniffle. "I was asleep for four years, so I don't think those count."
"Not point! Still no touch for 365 weeks, even if only aware for 156. Still long time!"
Yeah, I can't really argue with that. 3 years is a long time for someone to go without any human contact whatsoever.
"Will Grace die?! How long Rocky have to fix??"
"What? No!" I raise my hands defensively. Shoot, I need to fix this misunderstanding fast. "No, this isn't something I can die from. It's called touch starvation, but unlike regular starvation, it can't kill me."
This soothes him a little, and he settles down a bit. He's still agitated though; He's saying a lot of things in a much higher pitch than usual, and without the computer I'm not good enough to translate it on my own.
"Touch starvation does not kill, but feels bad, question?"
I curl in on myself a little, rubbing my arms. "Yeah. Yeah, it feels bad."
"Grace tell Rocky how to fix, please."
"I already told you, there isn't a fix. We can't survive in each other's environments, and that's that." His unyielding confidence and optimism is starting to be too much. How do I make him understand that there's nothing anyone can do? "Hugging you in your ball helps a little, but it's not a true hug. Not really."
He's silent for a moment. I can tell he's thinking hard, and guilt once again shoots through me. I hate being an inconvenience; if I had my way, my problems would never affect anyone besides myself. I'd keep myself tucked neatly away in the corner, present but not bothering anyone. I know, I know, that's a bad mindset. Believe it or not, I have been to therapy once or twice. But when you're trapped in space, stuck with the knowledge you'll never encounter another human being again, you start to not care about little things like bad mindsets. It's not like my therapist will ever know.
Are Eridian therapists a thing?
Rocky's moving; he rolls up close to me. Very close, actually, he's practically shoving himself in my face. I lean back, startled. "Uh. What are you doing?"
There's a different air about him now. He almost seems… excited? He's vibrating in a way I've come to understand as positive, trilling small, happy notes. "Idea! Rocky's ball has xenonite mesh. I used to hold and feel Earth ball. Can Grace touch Rocky through mesh, question?"
I blink at him stupidly. "What?"
"Can Grace touch Rocky through mesh, question??" He repeats, slower and with more force behind the words.
"I-" I stumble over myself. "I mean I can, but- would it work? We wouldn't really be touching."
Even as doubt clouds my thoughts, for the first time in a long while I begin to feel a small trickle of hope. I won't be touching him, not really, but… could it be enough? If I think about it, Rocky would just be wearing a sort of weird, bulky glove. Humans held hands with gloves all the time, right? So maybe…
But no. This is too obvious a solution, far too easy. There's no way it's that simple. Right?
Despite my doubts, I gingerly reach out towards the mesh, and Rocky eagerly sticks his hand through. My hand pauses an inch away from his, trembling a little. I can't put my finger on what, but something about this feels so huge, so life changing that I can barely breathe. It's stupid, it's not like I'm hugging him or anything. I'm just holding his hand. It's not that big a deal. I'm just going to rest my hand in his.
My fingers brush against the xenonite, and I immediately feel the heat radiating off of it. The mesh is worse at containing the heat than the xenonite panels are, but I'm pretty sure it won't hurt.
Deep breathe in and out. Here we go.
Gently, ever so gently, I rest my hand in the palm of his. It's warm, and softer than I thought. The xenonite is malleable and smooth against my fingers. Rocky gently wraps his fingers around mine, and I gasp at the sensation. My hand sparks, every nerve alight and buzzing. It's overstimulating, and I both desperately want to pull away and never let go. I can feel him rubbing small circles in my palm, and I swear I keen at the touch. I start sobbing, big, fat tears rolling down my face. Rocky goes stiff, and my face flushes in embarrassment. "Is Grace okay? Is this too much?"
I shake my head, because with the way I'm sobbing I don't trust myself to speak right now. He resumes tracing soft circles into my palm, and my body is alight with sensation once more. The longer he holds me, the more the buzzing in my limbs fades into a comforting warmth. I slump against the ball and give him a small squeeze of reassurance when I feel him falter. I must look an absolute mess right now, with the tears streaming down my face and snot dribbling from my nose.
"Leaky space blob." Rocky murmurs affectionately, voice light and teasing. I let out a breathless laugh, squeezing his hand tighter in response. For years, all I've felt is my own touch. Sure, Rocky's slammed into me many times, and I've certainly been knocked around a lot out here (looking at you, Adrian. The planet, not the Eridian). But in all my time up here, I've never once touched another sentient being this directly. I've never felt the warmth of a friend who loves me, who would take my hand willingly and without judgement. He gains nothing from this, Eridians aren't as touch focused as humans are. And yet, here he is, holding me the best he can.
"Thank you." I whisper against the ball. I don't ever try to hide the emotion in my voice. "This… This is amazing. Thank you, Rock."
"Grace watches Rocky sleep, provides comfort even though doesn't have to." His second hand reaches out and joins the first in its gentle massage. "Rocky is happy to finally return favour."
God, I love this alien spider. I love him so much my chest aches with the force of it. I honestly don't think I could possibly love him anymore-
"Rocky make xenonite mesh suit. That way, Grace can hug properly."
Aaaaaand now I'm sobbing ever harder, clutching his hand like a lifeline. I take it back, it's very possible to love him even more. My heart feels like it's about to explode, it's all so overwhelming. Being taken care of like this. I feel like I don't deserve it, but I'm too weak to push him away.
"A-are you sure? That… that's g-gonna take a- a lot. Of- of work, I mean."
"Grace stupid. Work not matter, Grace health matters."
"I- I told you, I won't die-"
"But still hurt." Rocky interrupts. He sounds like a frustrated parent. "Hurt bad bad bad."
If he had eyes, I'm sure he'd be locking them with mine right now. His tone turns serious. "Grace hurt matters."
Well shoot. I just got clocked by an alien. I swallow, throat thick with emotion, and give him a small nod. "Okay," I whisper. "Okay."
We sit like that for a while, Rocky never once letting go of my hand as I slowly calm down. My breathing evens out, chest no longer heaving with the force of my sobs. With my free hand I dry my damp eyes, sniffling a little bit. Rocky doesn't say anything, so I don't either. He seems content to sit in the silence, and I'm grateful. I'm not ready to do anything yet. Eventually, I start to pull my hand back and smile shakily down at him. He reluctantly lets go.
"Well. That's enough emotion for today."
Rocky warbles in agreement. He rolls his ball towards the messy "living room" area we set up to watch movies in. Blankets and pillows are strewn across the floor, and he scrambles over them before settling down by the laptop. "Watch movie, question?"
"Fine, but we're not watching Wall-E again."
"But Grace likes stupid movies."
"I've only shown you three!"
We fall back into the teasing banter easily, and I'm relieved to find any hint of my previous irritation gone. I pick up my coffee mug and walk over, plopping down next to him with my arm slung around the ball. I'm not fixed, exactly; one hand-holding session isn't going to solve all my problems at once. But I feel better, and that's a step in the right direction. I've got all the time in the world to figure this out. Right now, all I want to do is curl up next to my best friend, watch Jurassic Park, sip on my lukewarm coffee, and maybe even hold his hand.
It's enough.