Chapter Text
So there’s aliens. Rock-spider aliens that breathe toxic chemicals. Rock-spider aliens that breathe toxic chemicals and love Grace enough to let him live in their home. They’re his best friends. Five legs and no eyes and stone bodies. They also live like… forever. Simon doesn’t really understand how that’s possible, but then again, it was kind of an unreasonable ask for aliens to make sense.
Elders, back on Eden, were given the title at around 50-55 years old. With the resource scarcities and subpar living conditions and janky medical care, you were lucky to make it that far. Many died before then. The life expectancy of humans had been slashed since they had been on Earth. Simon remembers his mother telling him stories that her mother’s mother and her mother had shared of people living to over 100 years old. There was a woman, once, that saw 122. The average lifespan on Earth had been around 80 years old. Simon had never met anyone that age before. Even Father wasn’t even 70 yet, and he had been chosen as the Voice of Gods when Simon was still in single-digits. He said being chosen was the thing that granted him longevity. Eden’s lifespan predictions were always fluctuating, and sometimes the effort to keep track sent Simon’s head in circles. He was 36 now. Many had told him he’d lived a long life already.
But Eridians seemed to have it all figured out. He’d probably never know what their version of “old” was, but it must’ve beat out humans by a long stretch in translation.
Right now though Simon was holding a cup of water in his hand. Clean, cold, drinkable water. They had fallen into a kind of calm quiet and Grace had stepped aside to begin typing away on a tablet he’d picked up from a nearby countertop, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he did so. Simon briefly wondered what he was noting down. But his curiosity was tamped down by the contents of his cup. He imagined Grace must be unfathomable levels of rich to afford all of these luxuries. The medical robot, the filtered air, the education, the last name, the water reserves built into his home. He had resources for more than himself (and the Eridians, it seemed. If they were being allocated between them too.). He had so much that he was willing to share. Simon hardly knew what to think of it. How far removed was Erid from Eden and the COI? How could this place exist without their knowledge?
Grace cleared his throat. Simon jumped, eyes snapping up to find him. “So it–” Grace halted, grimacing empathetically at Simon’s reaction. “Gosh, sorry. I was just going to say your chart looks good. Your recovery map is kind of changing all the time with how exponential your rate of healing has been, but it’s all pretty promising regardless. How are you feeling now that you've been awake for a little while and had something to drink? Is the water okay?”
As if that was something allowed to be said. Telling someone you didn’t like the drinking water they were sharing with you was probably the single dumbest option. Grace seemed to mean it, too. Like this place genuinely granted the permission to debate the quality and taste of what was given. Simon held the nearly-empty cup close to his chest.
His face must’ve been doing something telling again. Incredulity translating from his thoughts into his expression. Grace backtracked. “Nevermind. Stupid question. Got it. We can just focus on how you’re feeling then. There’s only so much this thing can tell me, y’know?” Grace gestured with the tablet in his hands. “Technology can be wrong, lack nuance, or just simply not give us the full story. It’s impossible to hold computers accountable. So, this is where you come in. You can be honest. I would prefer it, actually, so I know you’re not actually miserable while we’re trying to help you. Kind of the exact opposite of what I’m trying to achieve. Better safe than sorry.”
“M’fine.” Simon muttered his words. He didn’t get believed for a second. He couldn’t tell if lying was worse than the truth, or if it would get him in trouble. Judging based on the way Grace’s shoulders slumped and face twisted into a concerned frown, maybe lying was the wrong answer. Shrugging, he tried again. “I don’t know. My arm hurts. It’s my fault though.”
“Okay,” Grace nodded, setting his tablet down back onto the countertop and turning to face Simon fully. “I can work with that. Can I take a look? I can also check if I can take the I.V. lines out altogether if you want me to.”
Simon looked at Grace’s open, upturned hands. Asking permission again instead of just doing. It was too soon to understand if this was going to be a pattern, or if it was going to end abruptly the second Simon said no. He needed this to continue. Even if the rug was ripped out from under him later, if he owed more than he could give for this generosity, if it ended with him back in a cell or dead for worse. For the time being, Grace was still asking permission. That had to mean something.
“Yeah,” Simon settled with a short nod. “Yeah, you can look.” The grin that overtook Grace’s features told him he chose right. The man put his glasses on and moved again over to the sink, washing his hands before plucking some gloves from a box next to the basin. He came back to Simon’s bedside once he was satisfied with the adjustment.
He waited patiently as Simon placed his cup in his lap, secured between his thighs, and then Simon presented his arm. Simon made no effort to move closer to the edge from where he had placed himself. Grace didn’t comment on it.
He was so, so gentle as he reached out to hold Simon’s arm steady. Blue-gloved hand supporting below the elbow as he inspected the damage Simon had caused himself. Grace didn’t grab so much as cradle his arm. His head tilted in his inspection, taking mental notes and fingers dusting feather-light around the edges of the forming bruises that took shape of his long-gone restraints. Still mostly red and angry but certainly cropping up some blue and purple hues. His elbow ditch took the worst of it as opposed to the spot closer to his wrist on his forearm. It’s where he was feeling the sting and burn the most. Simon had very clearly pissed off the I.V. lines and their respective entry sites. He felt sorry. All this hard work that had been put forward to save his life and he messed it up because he got scared. What a waste.
Simon waited as patiently as he could. Watching as Grace inspected the two lines and took a look at the monitors over Simon’s head, then squinting over the frames of his glasses to catch sight of the medication drips. It didn’t take long, despite the rising antsy feeling in the back of Simon’s mind. Whatever he found seemed satisfactory, nodding to himself once in the affirmative before his eyes met Simon’s again.
“I would say we could take these out. They’re pretty irritated as it is, and if anything, we have different forms of medication that can accomplish the same pain relief if anything crops up.” Grace offered a close-lipped smile. It was impossible to tell if he was disappointed in him. “This isn’t your fault, by the way. You were scared, not hostile. Accidents happen. It’s okay. I’m just glad you didn’t pop a vein.”
“I just… It’s a waste of resources. I messed it up and made more work for you. I didn’t mean to.” Then, once the words registered. “Pop a vein?” Sue him, he needed a better explanation.
“I– Yeah. Pop a vein. I.V. lines are tricky. Having them put in a vein and making sure they stay there is sort of a delicate task. The one by your elbow isn’t supposed to be bent all too much, since veins are so much more delicate. The catheter could, uh. It could either poke out the other side of it or snap under too much pressure. Both are bad options. Definitely do not need a plastic catheter tip floating around in there that we have to go get.”
Simon felt nauseous at the thought of it. He swallowed. “Please take it out.”
“I will. Don’t worry, just–”
“No, please take it out. Out.”
Grace paused for half a second, then nodded. “Okay. Let me shut the drip valves and grab a couple things and I’ll take the lines out. Set your arm out straight for me, like this.” With delicate hands, Grace guided Simon’s arm to rest atop his knee where he remained sat criss-cross in bed. He removed his hold and did a little ta-da motion when Simon settled. “Great. Awesome. One second, I’ll do my things and get those out. Real quick.”
It didn’t take long at all, actually. The white overhead lighting was flipped back on as Grace closed the drips, grabbed a sharps container, some sealed medical tape, alcohol pads, and gauze from a nearby set of drawers. Washed his hands again and put on a new pair of gloves. He returned almost as quickly as he left, setting everything down on a little metal rolling table and guiding it over to the bed again. Grace repeated the motion of upturned questioning hands, and Simon offered his arm back up to him. The texture of the gloves felt strange, but the warmth coming from beneath the material helped soothe Simon’s nerves just a little. He tried for a slow, deep breath.
“Alright. Do you want me to talk to you about what I’m doing? You also don’t have to look. I don’t like needles and stuff like this either, so it’s totally fine if you don’t want to see or hear what’s going on.”
“I don’t know,” Simon admitted, eyeing the supplies and the purpling strip of skin at his elbow. “Can I change my mind?”
“Of course you can. You can tell me to stop talking or look away whenever you need to. We’ll start by cleaning the area, that sound like a good plan?” Simon nodded. “Cool. I’m gonna place your arm here on the corner of my little table so I can get started.”
For what it was worth, Grace really was doing a good job at keeping Simon from falling back into stress over this whole ordeal. He moved with intent, and never too fast, seemingly mindful of keeping his body language open and predictable for Simon to follow along. An alcohol pad got opened, and goosebumps raised as cold cloth met skin. The sterile scent burned in Simon’s nose a little, but he stayed still while Grace worked. The cloth swiped around the injection site carefully without any interference to the line itself, and Grace dropped it into a little trash bin that sat underneath the table on its two flat rolling legs. He talked to Simon as he opened the gauze packet, not yet taking it out as his hands returned to his arm. This time, his middle finger and thumb pressed lightly on either side of the injection site, holding Simon’s arm steady and skin a touch more taut as his second hand hovered over the plastic cannula.
“Okay. I’m gonna take this out nice and slow, and it shouldn’t hurt much. Maybe a little pinch, but I promise I’m not trying to hurt you at all. When it’s out, I’ll put some gauze over it to keep a little pressure and prevent any unnecessary bleeding, and secure that in place with a little tape. Then we’ll do the same process for your other line. Fair deal?”
“Fair deal.”
“Good. Just keep taking deep breaths for me, yeah? Won’t take long at all.”
With all his effort, Simon tried to watch. He wanted to see what Grace was doing to him. There was an object that could break apart inside of his body, for Christ’s sake. But then Grace started counting down from three, and by the time he hit one and grabbed the hilt, Simon’s eyes squeezed shut involuntarily. He didn’t feel anything for a few seconds until gauze pressed against his arm, smarting against his bruising.
“There we go. Great job, Simon. Super easy.” Was Grace praising him? For what? Simon blinked his eyes back open as Grace was securing the gauze with the medical tape. He didn’t love the sensation, but it didn’t really matter. “There. All done with that one. You okay?”
The only response he gave was a nod, jaw working as he failed to speak up. He was fine. Nodding and shaking his head was allowed anyways, so it wasn’t like he was doing anything wrong. It didn’t hurt, Grace told him he was doing good, and he only wimped out for a second. It’s fine. Simon was fine.
The process was repeated for the second line. Simon still couldn’t force himself to look at the last second. Removing the catheter didn’t hurt. Everything was okay. Grace talked to him the whole time and made sure Simon was comfortable, encouraging him to breathe and tell him to shut up if he needed to. Then there was more gauze and tape, and it was over. The I.V. lines were gone just like that. Simon looked down at his arm, then back up at Grace. For not being a doctor for people, he seemed to have done a pretty good job at accomplishing this much. Grace held his hands up and away when he was done, another ta-da shake to pair with a proud little grin at his work.
“You’re all done! Thank you for trusting me to help get those out.” Oh. Thanking him? Was there another option? Simon certainly couldn’t do it on his own, that was for sure. What deserved gratitude on Simon’s part? “If you start to feel any pain now that the drip is gone, just let me know and we can do our best to help fix that. We’ll need to keep you hydrated on our own now too, so it’s important that you sip on some water fairly often. Definitely don’t chug it. I should have said that earlier. You were very dehydrated when we found you, and if you take things too fast you could throw it all back up. Which, well, that’s bad. And pretty gross and uncomfortable for you. So only sip, okay?”
Simon blinked. “That’s it? What do… What do I do now?”
“Well, you need to rest still. That’s a good place to start. We can fix your bed up and adjust the blankets whenever you feel like laying back down. Later we can check on your other bandages and your um– We can make sure your amputation is still healing right. I can’t see anything to worry about from here, but I do think it’s a good idea to keep your heart and blood oxygen monitors hooked up just to get a little more insight. They won’t stay forever. Just until we can be sure you’re all good and not at risk of infection or anything.” Grace gathered everything from his table, and tossed it into his trash bin. The sharps container got set in a separate cabinet below the sink. He removed his gloves, washed his hands one more time – jeez, that was so much water – and took off his glasses to hang below his chin.
“What, uh… What about the… Eridians? The rock aliens you talked to me about? Are they coming in here?” Simon couldn’t gauge if they should concern him or not. Or if he was even ready to interact with them. Grace clearly trusted them, befriended them, but that didn’t mean Simon would have any luck not being deemed an enemy. He barely even could picture what they might actually look like. Rock spiders only gave him so much information to work with.
“Rocky and Adrian? Well.” Grace clicked his tongue behind his teeth and drew a breath, head tilting as he thought. “Not until you’re ready and comfortable with that. They are both very excited to meet you, and incredibly curious, but your comfort and consent is what we’re going to function around. In time, you guys can meet. It’s inevitable. But no one is rushing into anything. They’re both very patient and I don’t mind telling them to wait. I would really prefer to keep your stress levels at a minimum.”
“But eventually I’ll have to meet them.”
“Yes, eventually. But again, only when you’re ready for that. They’re wonderful individuals. They’ve just got big personalities, kind of rambunctious when something new and exciting is going on, which is totally fair and understandable. But no risky events. Maybe we can figure something out after you rest up a little and get used to not having your I.V. lines in. Can I get you some more water?”
No Eridians right now. Grace was adamant. Simon figured pressing the issue wasn’t going to help. Honestly, maybe it was true that it would probably stress him out. But he was curious about them, and intrigued by their curiosity in him in turn. Waiting was mandatory either way. So he relented and picked up his cup from his lap at the request, took the last sip out of it, and handed it away. Grace nodded to him in thanks. Simon nodded back.