Chapter Text
Waking up to a boulder hovering over you is a trial for what being crushed by a landslide of rocks feels like. Well, in my case, Rocky is hovering, practically panicked to the point that their close to jumping out of their own, ah, rock skin, and he's resting his full weight on my chest in his new EVA suit (the hamster ball is still the default, but the suit is for emergencies; like me crashing out then passing out.) Which is basically like being crushed by a landslide of rocks.
"Ro--" I choke, and I wheeze out a breath when Rocky startles, jostling my insides with the force of his weight.
"Grace awake, question? Grace fall sudden sleep! Rocky panic, panic, panic! Could not catch Grace, now Grace have bump on head!"
Ah, right, my head is spinning. Probably not a concussion, just got boinked in the head by gravity.
"Bud," I choke out, "I need you to get off, please."
"No! Rocky read in portable thinking machine, said to do Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation when human unconscious!"
"C-can't breath, Ro--"
"Grace hurt, question? No oxygen in pulmonary organs, question?! Rocky choke Grace?! Apology, apology, apology!" Rocky jumps off of me, practically singing his anxiety, chords and whistles in distress.
Before Rocky could get far, I sat up to pull him close again, taking the opportunity to sneak in a hug.
"Whoa, bud, calm down, okay?" I rest my cheek on the top of his carapace, feeling Rocky's anxiety basically getting vented out of him, "I'm okay. Thank you for helping."
Rocky shifts his legs, his arms flailing, then, as he registers the comfort I was offering, he wraps his primary limbs around my torso, his claws running through my back, tapping the soft skin. Rocky does this to read my vitals closer. My body doesn't clink and crack and bump at his claws, but the water inside my body echoes the soft tapping Rocky places, and my heart glows in his 'sight'.
(Or that's what he told me one day, when I needed the warmth and weight of my dear star friend after fighting against my own nightmares; sometimes it's of grass and needles and conference rooms so large it closes in with every word that's shared on that table. Other times, it's watching and waiting and taking years for him to accept that the sacrifice an alien made saved one world and doomed another; his mind cooking up worst case scenarios because accepting that everything is actually okay in reality is too much of a fantasy. It's always running, between fight or flight, bravery or cowardice, and always ping-ponging between running on soft grass land or running with the spin drives on full blast. Rocky was always there to pick up the rising rhythm of my heart as I startle awake, a few times in his bubble, and eventually, the tight-fit EVA xenonite suit. Then, he would listen to the echoes of my heart, to reassure himself in kind, to convince his five hearts that I wasn't going to fade away from my own ache of hurts and scars and trauma.)
The hug wasn't long, but it was long enough to feel the cringe when the memory of a certain comic book hero is, maybe, still outside the ship window. So, with extremely great reluctance, I pull away from Rocky's warm embrace, and I turn to face the best fudging thing from my childhood.
Out in space, just opposite of their side of the ship's window, in his red and blue glory, is Superman, his hair billowing in the vacuum of space. The hero had the widest smile on his face, and when he notices my gaze, he smiles wider (if it's even possible.)
I stand towards the window and just... Stares. Maybe a bit inappropriate, but my nerd heart is trying to jump out of my chest from excitement.
"What's wrong, question? Man outside in space? If in space, means dead? Is dead?! Bad, Bad, Bad." Rocky whistles. It seems that my dear star friend is wound up from my previous fall.
"I'm okay, Rock..." I mumble, then side-eyed him, "chill out, okay? Let me handle this. You stay here in the control room--"
"What?! No, no, no. Is dangerous! Man don't know! Might be evil! Evil like grey old man with evil grubby hands from battle in stars!" He's talking about fudging Star Wars. I'm not even going to correct this pile of heavy rock.
I, reluctantly and with vehement apprehension, smile at Superman and mouth "meet by the airlock", which earns me a thumbs up.
"Stay there, Rocky!" I shout as I speed it towards the airlock, and behind me, Rocky whines and grumbles and I surmise that the rock is loafing like a cat.
At the airlock, I depressurize it and the metal doors open for the superhero. The other man delicately steps (how can he even do that? The ship is traveling at near light-speed!) into the Mary and closes the door behind me. As I cycle the air, the man's hair billows, and it hits me that I'm actually meeting an alien for the fourth freaking time. It's absurd. If I got a nickel every time I made contact with an alien, I would have four, and it's twice more compared to all the humans back on Earth.
After a full cycle, I reluctantly and with vehement and extreme apprehension opened the door on my side and I'm finally in the same room as Clark Kent.
Kal-El.
Superman.
"Clark Kent..." I breathed his name, and the other man smiles. All perfect smiles and perfect teeth and it should infuriate me how perfect of a man Superman is. But I'm not insecure enough of my masculinity. Beat that, Patriarchy.
The other man raises a hand to offer a shake as a greeting, and I take it with mine, "you know my Teran name?" Superman asks.
"Of course! You're, uh... Kind of a comic book hero in this universe... wait--" I squint without releasing my hold on his hand (for science. Nothing else... Not for touch starvation, I'm sure...) "You're from a different universe, aren't you?!" I exclaim. I would expect Superman to be shocked, but he only chuckles at the biggest physics revelation to have been theorized.
"Uh, yeah, I kinda figured when I got sucked and noodled into a wormhole. In my universe, uh, Ryland Grace and the Eridian at the control room aren't, uh..."
I, for the third time that day, reluctantly and with vehement and extreme apprehension, pull away from the other man, then squint some more in suspicion. "What about me and Rocky?"
Superman rubs his neck and looks away. Good to know that a superhero can be awkward. "Uhm... Not exactly... alive."
Well.
The crash out was inevitable.
Superman's ("Call me Clark--") whole story about his universe's Petrova Line problem was sad and miserable and just plain agony. I could see how devastated Clark was with Rocky and I's demise with just how much grief is in his eyes. And even the fact that his home planet was destroyed by the same micro aliens made me feel the same grief.
An Ice Age and a whole planet exploding made me feel like the bile in my stomach is threatening to rise out of my body.
But after the initial crash out, I asked Superman (Clark!) if he wants a hug.
And the man crumbles and collapses into my arms, sobbing hiccuping breaths.
It was like comforting a very large, very tall baby. I'm not complaining though. (Not because I'm touch starved. I'm a teacher, goshdarnit!)
"I'm s-sorry, I'm sorry. I couldn't-- I couldn't save y-you and Rocky. I--" Clark stumbles on his apologies and it physically pains me to hear him. I embrace him tighter, a hand travels to the other man's hair to run my fingers through his soft strands. I shush him, quiet, trying not to tear up myself.
"It's okay. Wasn't your fault. You didn't know."
"B-but--"
I softly grabbed his hair between my fingers then soothed it down, "what did I say?"
Clark merely nods in response, then he buries his head in between my shoulder and neck, finding a home in my arms.
Well, this is nice.
The crying eventually stops, and I'm not sure how long I've been hugging Clark. But from the first tear to now, somewhere in between that time, I have started rocking him back and forth.
Like a baby...
Anyways.
I should probably call Rocky so that he could meet Clark. But, like the dutiful platonic soulmate that he is, Rocky emerges, the Eridian already inside his hamster ball. I didn't even hear the usual rattling of the ball as it traveled around the ship.
"Grace, question?" Rocky taps his claw on the ball, and he must have been so spooked at how Clark and I are still embracing because he whistles and startles a little. I pulled away, though it was hard to go too far.
"Rocky, bud, meet Superman. Superman, meet my best friend Rocky." I say as I step to the side so that Rocky could see Clark, even though I don't really need to.
"Pleasure meeting you, Rocky." Clark says, the man walking closer towards the Eridian, then half kneeling to get closer. It's a miracle Rocky doesn't step back from distrust. He does trill a little as he points a claw at Clark.
"Superman human, question?"
"No, Rocky, he's not," I respond.
"Why name superman if not man, question?"
"Well, Rocky," Clark answers before I can, and I step back a little to have the two aliens talk it out. "I'm a Kryptonian who lives on Earth. And superman is just my superhero name."
"You use new word next to super. What word mean, question?"
"What? Hero?"
"Yes. That word. Explain."
Clark pauses, thinks about it, then gives a warm smile, as if he just remembered a memory.
"Someone who puts others before themselves," Clark says, and there's something warm and fuzzy in his voice, "someone kind, courageous, and saves people in need." The other man looks at me, "someone selfless."
"Oh, understand. Hero is someone brave." Rocky taps at the xenonite below him, as if he's looking, "brave like Grace."
Oh.
He was looking at me...
They were both looking at me.
"Yes, brave like Grace."
Oh man.
Clark was nodding his head, and Rocky whistles and chimes in agreement, as if they'd both planned this conversation before to destroy my detrimental self-esteem and self-hate.
"Oh, I see, I see. Rocky understand! Grace and Superman are heroes of Earth, statement."
Clark taps at Rocky's ball and the Eridian taps back, "You know, Rocky, on Earth, we have a saying.... Not all heroes wear capes."
"Understand! Superman wear cape, but Grace cape is space suit!" He brings his two primary claws together, "Like different kind of hero, but is still hero. Grace save stars, save Earth, save Erid, save Rocky! Grace hero, hero, hero!"
Clark laughs warmly with a shine in his eyes, nodding along.
"Yeah, Rocky. Grace hero, hero, hero."
Rocky trills, whistles, doing his jazz hands, excitedly chirping like his favorite topic is pulling me up to a pedastal, building me a cathedral worth of praise, and my ears turn hot and my eyes sting from tears. I really don't want to cry in front of a literal superhero, but I just can't help the rush of emotions that swirls inside me.
("You will be remembered as a hero")
Yao did say to find someone to be brave for...
"Kal-El know Earth music, question?"
"I grew up on Earth, bud. Of course, I know Earth music."
"Kal-El know Caramelldansen, question?!"
Ugh. I was hoping Rocky would forget. Darn that Eridian brain and their perfect memory.
Rocky starts playing the song through the ship's speakers and Clark stands to dance. A non-scensical dance, just throwing his hands up, his feet tapping beneath him. Rocky dances with him, swaying side to side as his primary hands stay up, his claws fidgeting to the beat.
"Grace! Dance, dance, dance! Grace, Rocky, Kal-El dance!"
And you know what? Fuck it.
I dance.