Chapter Text
Grace’s first mistake was touching Simon’s face on purpose - running his hands through his hair close enough to feel Simon’s breath on his face.
It was like a chemical burn on his skin. Grace was left singed, his flesh prickling with an itch he couldn’t satiate. Simon’s dark eyes were like storm clouds, swirling with the promise of something spectacular and destructive.
When he stepped back from Simon’s warmth, his wide eyes, Grace was sure that his hands were shaking. The space between his fingers still tingled with the sensation of Simon’s thick hair between them.
Grace’s second mistake was forgetting that they had already discarded the majority of Simon’s clothes.
They were either soiled beyond repair or ripped to shreds by, well. Grace didn’t want to dwell on it. The headband and harness and other - slightly more essential - items were salvageable, if only just.
(And a pendant, of some kind. Grace and the Eridians had run tests on it and found organic matter of some kind in the middle of cracked glass. It had been caked in so much blood and other things that Grace didn’t know if it was recoverable, yet. He’d chosen not to say a word to Simon, lest he add more disappointment and woe to those clouded eyes.)
Grace explained about Simon’s clothes, shoulders raised towards his ears with embarrassment as he handed Simon some of his own clothes. Simon took the bundle with his one hand, still sat up in bed with the sheets around his hips. His face was drawn and unreadable.
“I’m sorry.” Grace said. He felt a dark sting of guilt - just another, small element of familiarity that had been stripped from Simon.
Grace’s third mistake was perhaps the worst of them all.
After Simon had pulled on clothes with minimal help (a threadbare pair of sweatpants, sandals, and the loosest shirt that Grace owned - Simon was much broader than him, after all. Simon had quietly asked Grace to help him to finish tugging the shirt down his torso, not able to make eye contact with him as Grace did so. The tingling in Grace’s fingers intensified), he had stood up on shaky legs and followed Grace, Iris and Rocky out of the med bay. Grace was desperate to put his arm around Simon’s shoulders or at least hold out an elbow for him to steady himself, but Simon’s gaze remained fixed ahead. Steely. Inaccessible.
The silence was weighty as they exited the building that had held Simon since he had woken up on a strange planet. Iris and Rocky didn’t fill it - Eridians completely unfamiliar with the concept of awkwardness - leading the way out while Grace followed and Simon trailed behind him. Grace stole careful, furtive glances out of the corner of his eye. Simon’s gait had a slight limp, his hand clenched into a tight fist at his side. His eyes remained fixed ahead and his face was pale.
They stepped out of the building and onto the stony, but smooth path that led down towards the beach.
(Grace’s beach, as Rocky and Adrian called it.)
The rhythmic sound of the waves, the unnameable smell of the water and the artificial sand, reached Grace like a well-loved blanket would be draped around his shoulders. He breathed in, allowing it to steady him - the calm, the familiarity, the quiet feeling of being loved enough for this to be his - before it came into view.
His mistake was realised when he heard the sound of a body hitting the ground behind him.
Grace whirled round, alarm spiking up his spine, to see Simon crumpled on the floor. It was like his strings had been cut - legs folded beneath him, barely propped up on his elbow, his face even paler than it was just minutes earlier. Simon’s eyes were wide and white, looking at the crashing patch of sea that was peeking into view.
”Simon, Simon! Hey, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Grace dropped to the ground next to Simon, his knees protesting with a flair of pain. He ignored it as he hovered his hands above Simon’s stiff body, trying to catch his eyes. He heard Iris’ and Rocky’s alarmed noises as they hurried closer.
Simon remained quiet and gaunt for far too long for Grace’s liking. When he started making noses, they were small, dry swallows that seemed to cause Simon pain. When he opened his mouth, it was to say:
”The ocean. It’s an ocean.”
Grace could have slammed his own head against the rock.
You moron.
“I’m sorry, Simon. I’m sorry.” Grace said quietly, close to Simon’s crumpling face. His voice had a pleading edge to it.
“New human is sick again?” Iris asked from behind him.
“He’ll be okay.” Grace tried, not bothering to turn to her as eye contact was not something the Eridians needed for meaningful conversation. “Just give it a minute.”
“One human minute or one Eridian minute?” Iris asked earnestly, sincerely.
”Just give him a bit of time.” Grace clarified. If he wasn’t fizzing with anxiety, he might have smiled at that.
Simon had now squeezed his eyes shut. His brow was folded into sharp creases, expression almost as if he was angry. Grace’s hands still hovered uselessly above him.
”Simon, can I, uh. Can I touch you?” Grace’s words were clumsy.
Even so, Grace’s heart leapt when Simon gave the smallest nod, his eyes still closed tightly.
Grace didn’t hesitate. He reached forward, pressing both his hands to Simon’s shoulders. The warmth of Simon’s flesh bled through the thin fabric and into Grace’s palms, soothing the anxiety that lived in his veins.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Grace said again. “It’s a small ocean, yeah. Or at least, it’s meant to look like an ocean. It’s all simulated - the water is just water with salt mixed in and the waves are powered by a mechanism underneath that Rocky’s mate made. That’s all it is. It’s small and the only reason it’s here is because it reminds me of a beach I like on Earth.”
Grace didn’t know if any of this was helping. He rubbed his thumbs a little against Simon’s shoulders, hoping if nothing else, that this would ground him.
”It’s only here for me, okay? I’m the only one who lives here. The Eridians visit, but that’s it. There’s nothing and no-one there other than simulated waves and fake sand. Okay?”
Simon’s eyes were still shut, but his face loosened slightly, no longer tight and drawn up like he was expecting to be hit. His mouth moved with the silent shape of a word.
“Okay.”
Grace’s knees and lower back were protesting quite loudly at being hunched over on the hard ground. He imagined that being crumpled on the same ground, propped heavily on his one arm, wasn’t healthy for Simon’s recovering body either.
“Let’s get you up.” Grace encouraged. “My place is just down the beach, okay? Not far. You can keep your eyes closed if you want, you can lean on me.”
“I’m fine.” Simon said thinly. He opened his eyes, finally. They were darker than Grace had ever seen them, lined with dampness that glittered in the sun. It sent an electric current through Grace that he couldn’t pin down. “Sorry, I’m fine. Just…get me up. Please.”
“Okay, buddy.”
Grace stiffly got to his feet, leaning down to grab Simon by his good shoulder. He planted his feet as Simon arranged his legs under him, feet on the floor and knees bent. Using every ounce of his pitiful strength, Grace helped haul the broader, denser man upright. He faltered at the last second, which led to him practically falling against Simon’s chest. Grace gripped Simon around his muscular waist to steady himself.
“Sorry, sorry!” Grace said, cringing, taking his hand from Simon’s warm torso like he had been burned and using it to push his glasses back up his nose. His other hand remained planted on Simon’s shoulder. Security, Grace told himself, in case he fell again.
“It’s fine.” Simon said again. His face was blank, unreadable. His eyes remained fixed on Grace’s. That strange and magnetic gaze that rendered Grace slightly dopey.
“Do you need, um-”
“It’s fine.” Simon snapped. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”
Grace let go, his eyes lingering on Simon’s hunched shoulders as he stepped away and began to lead them away once again. Both Iris and Rocky trilled questioningly.
“Simon is uninjured?” Rocky questioned.
“Yeah.” Grace said, a little tightly. “Let’s go.”
“Grace’s heart rate is elevated.” Rocky said with concern.
“I’m fine.” Grace insisted, thankful when Rocky seemed to drop the matter and step forward.
There was more he wanted to say, wanted to confide in his best friend about. But now was definitely not the time - particularly as Simon was in earshot and would be able to understand at least half of the conversation.
Instead, they walked the short journey across the beach silently to Grace’s small, unassuming house. He watched Simon as subtly as he could from the corner of his eye. He saw Simon’s stiff posture, his gaze resolutely ahead and not so much as glancing towards the cheery sounds of the beach. His handsome, scarred face looked like it was moments away from crumpling, and it felt like a hand squeezing Grace’s heart until it was about to burst.
They reached the front door, Iris and Rocky turning to them both.
“Grace and new human need assistance?” Iris asked kindly.
Grace swallowed and turned to Simon. He noticed the barest tremble of Simon’s leg, the instability of the breath being forced in and out of his nostrils as he waited for whatever came next. Simon looked like a man being led to the gallows, for goodness sake.
”Iris asked if we need help with anything.” Grace asked quietly. Simon shook his head nearly before the words even left his mouth. He turned to Iris and made his human approximation of the Eridian gesture that roughly meant ‘gratitude’. “We’re both fine, Iris, thank you. When you guys get some time though, it would be helpful to have Armando back up here.”
Grace could have got Armando himself, but…
“It will be done.” Iris affirmed. “Goodbye, Friend Grace.”
Their limbs moved in the Eridian gesture for ‘goodbye’, poetic as ever, before leaving. Grace leaned forward to put his hand on the door handle.
“Grace?” Rocky questioned. There was uncertainty and concern in the familiar tones of Rocky’s noise and Grace was struck, for a moment, about how well Rocky knew him. How he must have read the fear, the tension, something big and blossoming and unnameable that had lived inside Grace’s chest the last few days, that had made his heart skip and his breath stutter.
”I’ll talk to you later, buddy.” Grace said, a thousand things he didn’t know how to articulate in the strain of his voice. Eridians weren’t known for their ability to read the non-verbal intricacies of human communication. But, his beloved Rocky had always and would always be the exception.
“Understand.” Rocky said. He leaned his body against Grace’s leg for a moment before scuttling away. “See you soon, Friend Grace and Simon.”
At Rocky’s departure, Grace shook off his mood and flashed a smile towards Simon.
”Welcome home.” He said.
—
Once in Ryland’s soft, clean, warm home, Simon was struck with a sudden and uncomfortable awareness of his body.
Ryland stepped in, their shoulders close to brushing against one another as he gestured for Simon to follow, leaning to close the door behind them. The smell that had lived on Ryland’s clothes, on his skin, hit Simon like a wall which damn near sent his knees buckling - already tense and quivering from the walk over.
The place was bathed in tones of soft yellow and beige, the light from the Eridian sun sliding through the windows to greet Ryland’s home by casting gentle shadows across the floor and walls.
Simon laid eyes on something that was unmistakingly a kitchen, cleaner than any Simon could remember seeing. Neat, tidy, but with signs of life - a fork and mug in the sink, photos stuck to the cabinets that Simon wasn’t close enough to see properly.
”This way.” Ryland said gently. “You must be tired.”
A protest was on the tip of Simon’s tongue that he had just woken up and had been confined to a bed for days, but the exhaustion that tingled throughout his body stopped him from voicing it. He limped after Ryland instead, snatching glances of the clean walls and comfortable-looking seating in the room they were passing. There were no rips, no grease marks smeared across the furniture, no scratchy patches of material sewed haphazardly to obscure the sight of its metal skeleton.
Simon was too damaged, too sharp around the edges, too undeserving to be allowed in a soft sanctuary like this one.
“Here we are.” Ryland said, even more softly than before. His tone of voice reminded him of an adult speaking to a child. Maybe how his mother spoke to him, once.
Simon found himself somewhere that was unmistakably a bedroom. Light, spacious, with a huge window that cheerfully provided a view of the shore below. Simon’s breath hitched in the same moment that Ryland began to flap.
”Oh fudge, sorry.” He muttered, stumbling into the room to hastily pull curtains across, swiftly shrouding the room in dusk.
“Thank you.” Simon said, at the same time that Ryland said: “I’m so sorry about that.”
Simon swallowed, allowing his eyes to pass across the tense features of Ryland’s face, the sudden shadow of his eyes as he returned Simon’s gaze. In the half-darkness of the room, Simon couldn’t read what was contained within them.
He faltered, his gaze landing on the bed instead. Unlike the narrow, sterile (albeit comfortable) bed that had been in the med bay, this one was wide and embraced by a colourful, neatly-arranged blanket. There were pictures of birds, stars, trees on there in tidy patchwork. It caused Simon’s eyes to prickle with the threat of tears.
”Make yourself comfortable.” Ryland said. In the low light, Simon couldn’t be sure whether it was a blush that dusted his cheeks or just his imagination.
”This is your bed?” Simon asked, not sure how he felt about the obvious answer.
”Um, yeah.” Ryland said with a half-smile. “Don’t worry. There’s other places for me to sleep, your rest is more important than mine right now.”
Simon marvelled at how easily words like that fell from Ryland’s lips, how unthinkingly this man offered Simon his time, his help, his home, his bed.
”No, no, I can’t-“
Ryland held up both hands, shaking his head even with a bashful smile touching his mouth.
”There’s no debate, sorry. You need your rest, and this is the best place for it. Trust me.” Ryland began to walk back around the bed and out of the room. Simon watched him, still wanting to protest but equally desperate to fall back into slumber. The warmth of Ryland’s body briefly brushed up against his, tantalising, like a comforting memory he can’t quite connect with.
“Sleep well. Give me a shout if you need anything, okay? I’ll just be in the next room.”
At that, Ryland left, closing the door behind him.
There was a moment where Simon listened to Ryland’s receding footsteps, the fading sound of his breaths. Once those sounds mellowed, there was nothing but a quiet that was both tentatively calming and unfamiliar. No clanging of pipes, no harsh barking of voices or the crackle of a radio. Only water licking against the sand outside and the tender sounds of a kind man in the next room.
Simon slipped under the sheets - a little awkwardly, with one only one arm. As he adjusted, the loose trousers rode up, the sheets soft and pleasant against the exposed skin of Simon’s leg.
There were lingering anxieties tapping weakly at the pit of his consciousness. What the plans truly were for him, what he might be told to do the moment he was fighting fit again. Whether any of this was even real, or he was doomed to live out this limbo while he was in the belly of a beast.
The lure of sleep soon enveloped the anxieties, obscuring them temporarily from Simon’s thoughts. He sighed and turned his face into the pillow. It smelled, of course, like Ryland.
Sleep followed him shortly after that.
—
Simon blinked back into awareness. He was lying on the hard floor of the sub, staring up at the ceiling that dripped with hot, thick blood. A tinny, robotic voice stated:
“Hull breach. Hull breach. Hull breach. Hull breach.”
Simultaneously:
“This is bigger than you, bigger than me, bigger than all of us!” Ava screamed through the radio.
Simon couldn’t move. His flesh was fused with the harsh metal of the submarine’s floor as the blood began to rise around him, lapping threateningly at the back of his neck, his ears, soaking through clothes at his back.
“I don’t want to die.” Simon begged. “Please, I don’t want to die.”
“Your body will become soil.” Father said, kneeling down next to him. When he smiled down at a paralysed Simon, there was blood between his teeth. “Death is an honour, Simon. Death is freedom.”
Father’s teeth fused into long, gnashing fangs, dripping with the blood that was between them, staining Simon’s cheeks.
“I want to live.” Simon tried again. He felt breathless with his need to scream, to beg, but he could only whimper in weak, pathetic sounds. They were closing in on him and he couldn’t do a thing about it. “I don’t want to fucking die. Please. You promised. You promised I would be okay. You promised I would be forgiven.”
Father’s face transformed into that of Ava’s, of his mother’s, of his brothers that abandoned him on Filament Station without so much as a backwards glance.
“Death is better than you deserve, anyway.” They spat. “This, is what you deserve.”
Simon was drowning. The blood sank into his mouth, filling it up, swelling his lungs until his body began to spasm. He tried to scream but the blood was clogging his throat, seizing his flesh, ripping it from his bones and-
“Simon.”
Kindness. Gentleness. Like a balm, spread across his burning flesh. He wanted to shrink away from it, scream for it to leave because he didn’t deserve-
“Simon.”
He woke with a gasp, trying to get his breath back, trying to breathe through the blood still cloying around his windpipe.
It took him a moment to realise there was a warm hand on his shoulder. It took even longer to realise that it was Ryland’s hand, Ryland’s bright eyes, Ryland’s worried face close to his.
“Simon.” Ryland said, gently. “You’re okay. It was just a dream.”
With a great, deep breath, Simon was back in the room, his heart hammering inside his chest. Ryland was there. Touching him. Soothing him.
“Just breathe. You’re okay.”
His awareness of the room around him bled back in, slowly. Simon took in the darkness of the room, the duvet still tucked up around his legs, the colours of the blanket at the foot of the bed just about visible in the low light. His gaze moved and Ryland was there, looking at him. Shadows underlined his eyes, the blue of them even softer in the tender atmosphere shrouding the room. His hand was still on Simon’s shoulder.
“Hi.” Simon said, voice gravelly with sleep and anguish. “I’m, uh. I’m sorry.”
Ryland moved his hand away, disconnecting it from Simon. He missed it immediately.
“It’s me who should be sorry, really. I could see you were starting to have a nightmare but I guess I didn’t wake you early enough.”
The sheepish smile, the one that Simon was starting to see as his signature, crept onto Ryland’s lips. The soft dusk of the room made the smile even more delicate, even more touchable.
Hang on.
“What do you mean?”
Ryland broke eye contact. His hand came up, rubbing at the back of his head, making the hair stick up. The tips of it caught a source of light seeping through the cracks in the door. It backlit his hair in gold. Like a halo.
“I’ve been watching you sleep. Uh, it’s an Eridian custom, you see. When I was on the way back with Rocky, we used to do it constantly. I guess it’s a hard habit to break out of.” Ryland took a breath and Simon thought he was going to stop talking, but he didn’t. “Eridians do sleep, but not like us. They do it less and for longer. They’re also completely paralysed when they sleep, so even though they don’t have any natural predators on Erid, they watch over each other to keep each other safe. I’ve been on Erid for a while now. I wouldn’t call myself a native, but, I guess I’ve adopted a bit of the culture.”
He flashed another smile, his hands dropping from when they were gesturing animately throughout his speech.
“I never really fit in back home, so. It figures.”
Ryland’s face dropped as he visibly cringed, his brow furrowing.
“I’m sorry.” Ryland said quietly.
Simon shook his head. “It’s fine.”
He realised he meant it. Seeing Ryland’s face tighten with annoyance at himself hurt something in Simon, somehow.
Ryland’s gaze was dropped, avoiding Simon’s face. He began to rise from his seat, embarrassment written in the line of his shoulders, the barest pink of his cheeks.
“I’ll leave you alone.”
“Wait.” Simon said in a hurry, reaching his hand out into the empty air close to Ryland, not quite close enough to touch.
“Can you, uh,” Simon started, his heart still stubbornly racing and his skin still tingling from the thorned memory of his dream. “Can you stay and talk to me, for a bit? About anything, I don’t mind. Maybe you can tell me about, um, the Eridians?”
There was a pause, Ryland’s eyes finding him once again in the semi-dark. It settled over him like rolling warmth kicking out of a heater. Ryland sank back into his seat, the small smile returning.
“Sure, Simon.”
Ryland’s voice filled the dim room, the tones of it both bubbling and soothing. Simon fell asleep like that, his half-conscious mind sinking into the comfort of Ryland’s enthusiastic explanations, his presence that had so quickly become a safe one.
Simon’s arm still hung outside of the bed, close to him.
–
When Simon woke again, sunlight was streaming through the gaps in the curtains, doing its level best to shine through them as well. Simon took stock of his body, still tucked under the duvet and encased in soft warmth. Mercilessly, his waking thoughts were free from the slipping grasp of a nightmare. He allowed himself a moment to enjoy it.
Simon craned his neck towards the chair next to his bed, finding it empty. He only had a moment to feel the rising anxiety before he heard noises through the wall.
The clink of cutlery. The sounds of things being placed on a counter, the shuffling of feet. The familiar tunes of life, so simple and instinctual that it brought tears to Simon’s eyes.
It had been so long since Simon experienced the tactile familiarity of another person simply living, going about their daily routine in such close proximity to him. Before the peeling prison cell it was a cramped bunk, ripe with the stink of adrenaline and fear. No simple contentedness of routine. No comfort, no easy familiarity.
It had been even longer since he even felt something akin to companionship with another human being. How strange that he feels it so keenly now, simply from the sounds of life in another room.
Maybe it has more to do with the man making them.
Simon scrubbed across his eyes with his forearm, wiping the sleep from them before he sat up and swung himself out of bed. The twinge of protest at the movement was there, but manageable.
He opened the door carefully, the sounds of Ryland clattering in the other room strengthening. Limping still, he walked with bare feet closer to its source, until Simon caught sight of him.
Ryland had his back to Simon, the light from a nearby window illuminating him. This time, instead of just the golden highlights of his hair, the whole outline of his body was aglow in soft, yellow light. The line of his shoulders, the nape of his neck - all glowing in a heavenly halo, not unlike the imitated paintings that had been in Father’s possession. Ryland turned slightly, and the light boasted the slight bump at the top of his nose, bright eyelashes behind the shimmering lens of his glasses.
A tongue poked out, wetting his bottom lip.
He was the most beautiful thing Simon had ever seen.
“Hey.” Ryland said, making Simon startle. He had turned to look at him, a smile already halfway to his lips. “How’d you sleep?”
He had a mug in hand, its liquid creating a delicate cloud of steam in the light soaking through the window. It had a deep, grounded scent that Simon couldn’t place.
“Good.” Simon said honestly. “Thank you, for, uh. Well. For everything, I guess.”
He was waiting for the penny to drop, but for now, he could enjoy the pleasant sights, smells and presence that warmed him to his bones.
Ryland shrugged.
“It’s really nothing. I’m glad you’re feeling okay.”
He held out his mug.
“Coffee?”
Simon blinked.
“What’s that?”
Ryland blinked harder, confusion lining his eyes.
“Er, well, it’s a drink made from beans. Has kind of a bitter taste. It contains caffeine so it helps wake you up.” Ryland paused. “You’ve never had coffee?”
It was Simon’s turn to shrug.
“Resources were limited on all of the space stations.” Simon stepped forward, took the mug from Ryland’s offered hand. Their fingertips brushed, just for a moment, but it was enough to make Simon shiver. “I haven’t had anything but water and nutritional paste for as long as I can remember.”
Simon’s eyes were on the brown, swirling liquid, the smell of it even richer up close. He didn’t see Ryland’s jaw go slack at his words, didn’t hear Ryland’s heart seize in his chest.
Simon lifted it to his lips, feeling the moist heat of it against his skin before it touched them. The taste exploded across his tongue - bitter, like Ryland warned, but rich and smoky and complicated. It was like nothing he ever remembered experiencing.
Simon brought the mug away from his mouth with a gasp.
“Good?” Ryland asked, a little breathlessly.
“I’m not sure.” Simon said wonderously. “I think so?”
Simon returned his gaze to Ryland, the other man staring at him.
“How did you make this?”
Ryland’s eyebrows raised under his glasses.
“It comes from beans, so I grow them and Armando helps grind them up. I’m no barista, but I do what I can.”
Simon didn’t know what at least two of those words meant, but he soaked up Ryland’s nervous laugh anyway.
Wait…
“Did you say ‘grow’?”
Ryland’s laughing face saturated into a wide smile.
“How’s your leg?” He asked.
Simon felt a little embarrassed with his injury weakening him so obviously, but he tipped his chin up anyway.
“Fine.” Simon said firmly.
Ryland nodded his head towards the back of the house, his blue eyes warm and glittering with excitement.
“Come with me.”