Chapter Text
As it turns out, Grace is really good at Connect Four.
They didn’t find any actual board games, so they’ve had to get creative with repurposing other supplies to use as substitute. Some ripped-up sponges and a hand-drawn grid work well enough for Connect Four.
It’s been days now, and they've slowly become more comfortable in each other’s company.
Memories have been trickling back into Grace’s mind. Most of it are the parts Yáo had told him about - the mission and the astrophage and the importance of it all - but there’s other moments too. Having coffee with Eva Stratt (who he is increasingly coming to remember), karaoke nights, and colleague after-parties.
He isn't sure how he feels about Stratt. In the parts he can remember, she is a devoted and determined leader, alongside whom he works closely. Blunt and a little bit scary, yes, but with the best interest of the world at large at heart. He knows he should admire her for that, but some deep part of Grace that he can’t yet seem to pry out tells him that there’s something about her to be wary of. He just doesn't know what that could be.
He remembers Yáo more clearly, and determines for himself that they were in fact friends. It’s a little bit odd, to form a friendship with someone from scratch, while also gradually remembering the friendship that you had before; but Yáo is patient, and Grace doesn’t think that space has changed either of them all that much, anyways.
He remembers Ilyukhnia too, in bits and pieces. He knows she is bubbly, and that she loves cats. That she is incredibly intelligent, and so, so brave.
And he can see - without having to rely on memory at all - that Ilyukhina has still not woken up.
Yáo checks on her pod every day, multiple times a day. He gets the Hail Mary computer to rattle off her vitals to him, and tells her every time to report any changes. She never has to. Nothing ever changes.
Grace never pries too hard. He watches, quietly, as Yáo does his checks, and he lets him be. Part of him wants to tell Yáo that it isn’t worth it, that he's only making himself more worked up about it all. But it isn’t his place to tell the commander how to act, and he thinks maybe there is some comfort in the routine.
Grace himself is struggling with comfort. He finds it, somedays, in the games he plays with Yáo; in the little corners of the ship; or in the room full of screens that can show him anything he pleases. It’s still far and fleeting, though. Each time he thinks he’s settled, he is reminded of the weight of everything they’re doing, and he’s reminded of the fact that he still doesn’t really know his part in it all - at least not by his own, certain account.
At the very least, Yáo’s company is keeping him from spiralling entirely. Grace loves to hear his stories about his previous missions, about all his training and research and qualifications. About his family, his home. Yáo is a proud and loving man, and it is so apparent in every aspect of his life.
Grace can only hope that he himself is thought of so fondly.
*
One day - twenty-four days since the pair of them awoke - they are playing board games, as usual.
Grace slams his crudely-cut piece of sponge down onto the paper board triumphantly. “And the super cool and epic Ryland Grace wins again.”
Yáo laughs. “Good game doctor. Perhaps poker now,”
Grace starts gathering up the sponge pieces. “Now, now, Yáo, just because I beat you doesn’t mean we have to immediately switch to a game you’re good at.”
“I think it is exactly what that means,” Yáo smiles. “I enjoy winning too, Doctor Grace.”
“Hm, well, how ‘bout one more game of the ol’ Connect Four?”
“Ha. Just one more then. But let me use the little astronaut’s room first.”
“Of course, good sir.”
Yáo steps out of the room. Grace resets the playing ‘board’.
He holds onto one piece of sponge, fidgeting with it, before taking to throwing it up and down. He goes higher and higher each time, focused and smirking, until–
The piece gets wedged between the pipes on the ceiling, and doesn’t back down.
“Aw, c’mon man.”
Grace stares up at it, waiting for it to be dislodged. The sponge is not so kind.
Grace sighs. “Fine, okay.”
He steps up onto his chair, reaching up. It’s still too far.
Another sigh, and then he pushes away the mess on the table, stepping up onto it, and–
Suddenly, he is not on the Hail Mary anymore.
He’s in an office - Stratt’s office - and she’s staring at him. He’s standing on a table, pressed up against the wall, panicked. There are people around him - security, maybe - no, definitely - and Stratt is explaining something to him in a matter-of-fact tone. He doesn’t have a choice in this. The rush of blood is too loud in his ears to make out what she’s saying, but he can make out that much. He doesn’t have a choice.
And then he is running, out of the office and across the large NASA compound. Running and running, desperately, until–
He trips, and he is held to the ground. And something sharp pricks into him.
Grace gasps. He’s back in the Hail Mary, back out of the memory, and he feels sick.
The sponge falls to the ground. He pays it no mind.
Winning at Connect Four suddenly seems far less worthwhile to him.
*
Yáo returns to find Grace sitting at the table with his head held in his hands. Yáo freezes. The air in the room is suddenly far too heavy.
“Grace?” he tries.
Grace doesn’t reply, doesn’t even look at him.
Yáo steps closer, cautiously. “Are you alright, doctor?”
Grace shakes his head, and then he says it:
“I didn’t choose to come.”
And the silence suddenly feels preferable.
Yáo blinks. “What do you mean?”
“It makes sense now, why I always felt so uncertain about my choice. Why I always doubted you calling me heroic. Because I’m not a hero. I– I’m– I’m a casualty of this mission.”
“Doctor - Grace - you are not making sense.”
“Stratt drugged me, Yáo. I didn’t ask to be sedated for my nerves, I was sedated so I wouldn’t be able to object. There was no one else for the job, that’s what she said. No one else, so she had to send me. As if– as if it was anyone’s choice to make but mine.”
He’s upset, more than just angry, Yáo can see that clearly. It makes his heart ache.
“Grace, please, take a breath. Try to be calm.”
“How? How can I be calm? I’m supposed to be on Earth, teaching, not up here on a suicide mission–!”
Yáo winces at his words. If Grace notices, he is too wrapped up in emotion to care.
“I don’t want to die in space,” Grace whispers, “I don’t want to be in space at all.”
“I am sorry,” says Yáo.
Grace turns to him. “You aren’t the one who sent me here. You– you lost part of your crew. You didn’t make the choice for me, you didn’t even know.” He pauses. “You didn’t know, Yáo, did you?”
“No, no, like I have said I thought that you had chosen sedation. I had wondered… it had felt a little off, but I never knew.”
“Felt off? How? Did you– did you suspect that I was forced?”
“No, just… something felt wrong about it.”
“Fuck,” Grace yells. “Fuck me, dude. Fuck this.”
“Doctor, please refrain from yelling–”
“I’m stuck in space against my will, man. I’m gonna die in space for something I won’t even get to benefit from. What else am I gonna do?”
“Do not act as if you are the only one here in a difficult situation.”
Grace laughs, “Please, you made the choice to come.”
The words sit heavy in the moment of silence that follows. Grace, at once, feels shame pool in his stomach, but he is still rife with emotion.
“That does not make it any easier. Do you know how hard it is? To decide to take on a suicide mission? No. How could you? When you have made it very apparent that you did not make that choice.”
“This isn’t a competition, dude.”
“No, but you have made it out to be.”
“I just– it’s not fair. Why didn’t I get a choice, when you and Ilyukhina did?”
“I don’t know, Grace. Up to me, I would not have let this happen,” he inhales, low and long. “Please, do not bring Olesya into this.”
“Why not? She still gets to sleep through this awful waiting period. She seems to have it the best out of any of us.”
“Enough!”
Grace has never heard Yáo yell, not in a way so fuelled by anger, at least. But his voice rings through the cabin, now, and Grace can almost feel the ship shake with it. Grace’s shame can no longer be outweighed by his anger. He inhales shakily.
“Yáo–”
“Do you know how hard it is, to sit each day and wonder if something has gone wrong? To wonder what has happened, that we should be awake? But not Olesya? It is my job as commander to worry about the state of the mission, and of my crew. It pains me to see you upset. And it scares me to wonder why it is only the two of us here now.
“I am sorry that you are hurting, Grace. I do not doubt that you should be. But it is not fair to take that out on me. And I would rather you do not speak ill of Ilyukhnia. Please.”
Grace bows his head. He can feel his eyes watering. “I’m not mad at you,” he says, softly, “or at Ilyukhina, or any of the crew who were willing to sacrifice their lives for this. I just… I wish I could have been that brave on my own. And it hurts to know that it didn’t matter either way.”
“It isn’t fair,” says Yáo, “and I am truly sorry.”
“I know.” Grace replies, and he’s not sure that alone can help right now, but he appreciates the kindness with which it is said. The genuine meaning behind it. “I know.”
Yáo takes a step forward, hesitantly, opening his arms. Grace looks at him, uncertain for a moment, before the tears begin to flow freely down his face. He rushes forwards, and he lets Yáo embrace him.
And they stay like that, for longer than either of them care to take note of.
As if, for a moment, their company alone can deny them of their reality, and melt away their fear.
*
The comfort doesn’t last, but then again, it never seems to.
Grace pulls away, wiping at his eyes, and Yáo steps back. That familiar silence hangs between them, and neither is sure how to combat it. There isn’t much to be said, truthfully, at least not anything that can make their hurt any less heavy to bear.
Yáo knows that Grace is struggling, in a way he can’t even imagine. And he would be lying if he said it didn’t trigger some deep, desperate part of him that is longing for home, but he knows that’s not what’s important right now. Grace has come to a terrible, horrible revelation, and Yáo can’t fix it.
It’s a difficult truth to face as a commander, but that seems to be part of the job.
He takes a step back, towards the corridor.
“I will let you be,” he says, “I need to check the ship logs.”
Grace nods, but he doesn’t respond. He looks so small, suddenly, and Yáo doesn’t know what to say to that, to any of it. So he nods, too, and slips away.
Ilyukhina would know what to say. Or know when not to speak at all. She had been so careful, so patient, after the loss of Shapiro and Dubois. She had sat with him in a comfortable silence as he had mourned, and had assured him over and over that there was nothing he could have done. Part of him still felt a level of blame, as a commander often does when tragedy strikes. But she had made that burden lighter.
It’s selfish to wish she was here, to take over comforting Grace, And it’s selfish to wish she was here, to try to comfort Yáo. But he”s tired, and Grace’s words hang heavy, and it seems there is nothing to do but be selfish these days. Their mission was born of selflessness, surely that could be enough.
He stalks the halls, up and down, for hours. He never checks the logs, he just thinks, and he waits. For Grace to be happy again. For Ilyukhina to be anything at all, again.
He waits.
And waits.
And wishes.
*
Grace stays put for a long time. He wills his whole existence on the ship to be one big bad dream, as if somehow it will work this time where it never has before. He wills himself to be brave, for the sake of his home and the lives he could save. He wills Yáo to come back to talk to him.
But he doesn’t try to find Yáo himself. He just waits, as he clings to all the memories that don’t feel too-big and scary. He traces the patterns on the walls with his gaze, really taking in the intricacies of the ship. How long had it taken to design? How much had they considered comfort over efficiency, or not at all?
At some point, he sits, back pressed against the walls and chin pressed against his knees - that same position as when he had first woken up here.
He listens to the whir of the ship’s engines, and the sounds of his own breath.
And he waits for Yáo to return.
Waits and wishes and wills.
And waits.
*
Eventually, Yáo can no longer justify his corridor-stalking. He makes his way back to the one room he’d been avoiding, and slips inside. Grace is still pressed against the wall, but he perks up at the footsteps.
“Hello,” Yáo says, plainly.
“Hi,” Grace replies.
Yáo smiles at him, before crossing the room and taking a seat in front of him, leaning against the opposite wall. He frowns. “This floor is not comfortable.”
“No, but, it does the job.”
Yáo sighs. “I am sorry for taking so long. I needed the time to think.”
“It’s okay," says Grace, “you have a lot of responsibilities here.”
“But you are one of them, and I should be better at acknowledging that.”
“It’s okay, Yáo, I promise.” Grace insists. “I’m a grown ass man, I should be able to handle my emotions.”
“I do not think anyone should be expected to know how to deal with these kinds of things.” Yáo looks up to the ceiling. “It is such a strange and terrifying thing, our mission. No less in your circumstance.”
“Yeah… yeah.” Grace bites at his lip. “I guess it’s just a lot to process.”
“There is no rush. And it is alright if you never fully do.”
“I just wish I didn’t have to think about it at all.”
“I know.”
“I wish I could go home.”
Yáo swallows. “I know.”
“Is there really no other way?”
“No,” Yáo shakes his head, “you knew it yourself, there is no other way.”
“God. Fuck, man.”
“...I know.”
Grace tilts his head back, closing his eyes.
“At least we have each other,” Yáo says eventually. “And.. Connect Four.”
Grace laughs wetly. “Yeah, yeah. Thank the stars for Connect Four.”
“Perhaps a game would be a good idea, now?” Yáo suggests.
Grace scrubs at his face. “Yeah, maybe, yeah. How about–”
He’s cut off, by the shrill voice of the Hail Mary system.
“Commander Yáo Li-Jie. There is a new status report.”
“Oh? Thank you, ship. Report, please.”
And she does.
“Status report: Ilyukina, Olesya. Vitals: Stable. Functional status: Unknown."
Yáo jumps up. “Ship - Mary - what’s going on.”
“Status report: Ilyukina, Olesya. Vitals: Stable. Functional status: Unknown."
Grace stumbles to his feet. “What does that mean? Yáo?’
“I don’t– I don’t know.” Yáo mutters. Then, louder, “Ship–”
“Status report: Ilyukina, Olesya. Vitals: Unknown. Functional status: Unknown."
Yáo’s heart drops.
“No–”
He’s running before he even realises he is, and Grace is close behind him.
“Vitals: Unknown. Functional status: Unknown."
Hail Mary repeats her message as they go. The ship is suddenly far too loud, the corridor too long,
“Vitals: Unknown. Functional status: Unknown."
It’s a blur, as they round the corner to the medical wing, and throw open the door.
All the while the Hail Mary’s message repeats:
“Ilyukina, Olesya. Status: Unknown.”