Chapter Text
“I’m worried about him. Grace. Like, I know we’re all stressed about the end of the world or whatever, but there’s something going on with that guy,” a tipsy-sounding voice from a figure leaning over the ship’s railing said softly.
“I suppose,” another responded. “It seems like something he wants to keep hidden, though. Maybe we should stay out of it.”
“That’s a big ask. We see him every day, you know.”
“Not for much longer. A few more months and this will be history.”
“I guess.”
Stratt couldn’t make out much more of their conversation as the wind picked up. It was getting difficult to focus on her paperwork when she heard them start talking outside her office window, and she figured it wouldn’t hurt anything to listen in. It seemed people liked to talk about Grace; it was an objectively interesting story: “School teacher returns to his past field of work to become world renowned alien biologist.” But Stratt still had her worries whenever he came up in conversation.
She’d scanned his file. It was usually an unnecessary step to take, but it was better to err on the side of caution when dealing with the end of the world. Of course it didn’t take long to discover his little problem. But he was smart and kind and thoughtful, and therefore it didn’t seem like too much of an issue. He could handle himself; if he’d managed to acquire and hold a teaching position for so many years, he couldn’t be too dangerous.
If anyone found out but her, however, they might have some issues. People were not often kind to the fanged who walked among them, no matter how careful or gentle they seemed. Stratt had worked herself into a corner. If anyone found out about Grace’s problem, she’d have to find a replacement. Finding someone else to guide Project Hail Mary’s science team in astrobiology would be harder than getting them to Tau Ceti. They would be starting from square one, and nobody had time for that. The sun was dying, for goodness’ sake; surely they could science with a vampire.
So Stratt didn’t care, but she often found herself thinking about it. It had been over a month since she’d uprooted Grace from his quaint life in California and put him on the boat. The first few weeks were fine; he just seemed nervous like everyone else. But now, on week four of their long and tiresome journey to save the sun, people were starting to notice something off about him.
There was no way he’d gone without blood this long. Stratt had done some late night googling and found that a week was usually as long as people like Grace could go without sustenance. She assumed he’d figured some way to sate himself on the ship, and left it at that. If he was doing fine there was no need to bother him. Her valuable time did not need to be wasted on already solved problems.
Or so she thought.
One night, as Stratt found herself up late trying to figure out the astrophage breeding situation over email with someone in Algeria, a storm rattled the boat. Rain pounded on the roof of her office and lightning painted the sky out her window. Storms like this weren’t uncommon, and were more of an annoyance than a danger. She was getting tired of trying to focus on her work with all the noise going on around her and decided to turn in for the night. Bad idea.
Just as Stratt stood up, the ship jolted so hard she flew back into her desk. Broken glass glittered in the moonlight as the pain started to set in. She tried to get up again, to go to the med bay and find someone to clean up the glass, but another shock sent her reeling back toward the floor. She felt the shards slash along her side, her neck, her arm. She did not attempt to right herself again.
She tried to breathe deeply, convinced herself that someone would find her. That Earth would not be condemned to death by a stray wave from a fleeting storm. Just as she felt her vision start to fade, someone broke through her window. The relief she felt was immediate. And short lived.
It was hard to see who exactly her savior would be from the angle she was at. She repositioned, moving her hair out of her eyes and trying not to wince at the pain she felt as glass sunk deeper into her skin.
It was Grace.
He looked so scared, so worried as he knelt down before her. It seemed to take everything in him not to turn and run at the sight. It took Stratt a second to realize why he looked so horrified, but once she did she felt fear sink deep in her heart too.
His fangs had dropped down. They gleamed faintly in the moonlight for a moment before Grace had the sense to cover them with his hand. He stepped closer to her, and Stratt nearly flinched.
Was he going to hurt her? The question burned in her mind as he pressed cloth to her bleeding neck. It didn’t seem like he wanted to; when he met her eyes they were wearing almost the same expression: tired, scared, and trying. He made a terrible sound as his fangs dug deep into the flesh of his hand.
Stratt knew then that it would be all right.
He carried her one handed, only daring to uncover his mouth to tie his makeshift coat bandage around her neck with such gentleness that she almost forgot the direness of the situation.
The walk to the medical unit was long and terrifying. More than once Stratt saw the sanity fade from Grace’s eyes as he tried his best to hold onto it. More than once she felt her own eyes droop from blood loss and went limp in his arms.
When they reached the med bay, the doctors immediately spewed threats at Grace as he tried to gently hand her off to them. Stratt didn’t know where they took him once she was placed in a hospital bed.
She tried to tell them what happened, to explain that Grace was not the one who spilled her blood, but she didn’t have the strength. Her eyes fluttered closed and she was left to the deep and endless dark of her mind.