Chapter Text

CHAPTER FIVE | POWERLESS

INCAPACITATED (in·​ca·​pac·​i·​tat·​ed)
/ˌinkəˈpasəˌtādəd/
↦ deprived of capacity or natural power, made incapable of or unfit for normal functioning.

"Finaaaally, I got them all back, cleaned up. You doing good? The sand's clumpy today, so I don't think you're up for taking a bath." Kara stretches her arms over her head as she spots Rocky sitting by the shoreline. He's seated on the sand with Krypto lying beside him, his hand lazily running through the dog's coat. The alcohol is finally taking effect, and everything feels so... strange and floaty. He knows this is what being drunk is.

He remembers Grace drinking those stupid vodka bags, getting himself drunk, panicking, and insisting he was dying. Rocky hadn't known it felt this good to feel like he was floating. Like he didn't have to hold himself up anymore and could simply let something else carry him. It feels... nice. He watches the faint bobbing light far out on the water.

"You okay?" Kara asks again, kneeling beside him.

Rocky hums, his eyes drooping as he gives a small nod. "Yes," he slurs, resting his forehead against his knees. The world spins. Now that Kara has interrupted the moment, he feels less like he's floating through space and more like he's back in Adrian, the ship throwing them around as it spins uncontrollably.

"So it's true, huh? Your first time being drunk… Well, your second now, but whatever." Kara chuckles. "Here, I got some of your Skittles. Eat these—they'll help a little. Then we'll head home, alright? Oh, and here." She pulls his sunglasses from her pocket along with a bag of Skittles, dropping both into his waiting hands. "Wear them. I know how crappy your eyes are with bright lights. It'll only get brighter once we get home."

Rocky shakily slides the sunglasses onto his face before opening the Skittles. He tips a few into his mouth, lowers the bag, and slowly chews.

"Want some?" he asks.

Kara finally sits beside him, absentmindedly petting Krypto as they listen to the waves crashing against the shore.

"Thanks." She smiles, holding out a palm dusted with sand.

Rocky tips the bag toward her hand, nearly missing if Kara hadn't caught his wrist and guided it so the Skittles spilled neatly into her palm.

Then she notices the yellow crystal dangling from a chain around his wrist. "What's that?" she asks, leaning back as she tosses a Skittle into her mouth.

Rocky tilts his head back, chewing thoughtfully as he lifts his hand, watching the crystal sway in front of him. "Home," he says with a quiet sigh.

"Home? Where did you used to live, anyway?" Kara rests her elbows on her knees while Rocky looks down, crumpling the empty Skittles bag before stuffing it into his shorts pocket. He traces a finger over his slightly reddened knees, chafed from all the kneeling he'd been doing in the farmland over the past few days.

With him, of course. Wherever Grace is, that's home. It was never really Erid. It was always Grace.

But he knows where Grace used to live. Grace had shown him countless pictures, telling him how much he missed it—the rain, the fog, the smell after a storm, and the cold that always followed.

"San Francisco," he finally murmurs, closing his eyes. "With him... my home... my universe... my world." He sighs softly.

And somehow, he can see Grace standing on that platform in the mental health room, dancing beneath the dark skyline of San Francisco. Laughing. Twirling in circles with his arms spread wide. Giggling as he talked and talked and talked about the city while pulling up picture after picture, video after video on the screen. Rocky had never interrupted, he had simply listened.

Has he mentioned that the sheer ability of humans to imagine pictures and memories so vividly—like watching a moving screen—is amazing? Now, whenever he closes his eyes, he can see Grace. It's as if every time his eyelids shut, Grace turns toward him and smiles. It's so lovely—

When he opens his eyes again, it's no longer lovely.

He's bent over a toilet bowl, vomiting. His sunglasses have been taken off, his hair pushed back by Kara as she presses two fingers against his throat, sending him right back to spewing his guts into the toilet. Somehow, they're finally home. He doesn't even remember how he got there. He only remembers being dragged—half carried—by Kara before projectile vomiting all over her shoes. After that, everything went black.

"Sorry, buddy... You just drank way too much of that stuff. If I put you to bed now, you're going to vomit in your sleep and kill yourself," Kara says beside him.

Rocky is barely listening anymore. He's sobbing in disgust and pain, his stomach churning and his throat burning raw.

He gags again and turns toward Kara, trembling. She's barely a person in his eyes anymore, just a blurry blob of blond and blue. "G-Grace?" he whispers. The blob sighs, slumping down slightly. "Not Grace."

Rocky shivers harder before vomiting again, pressing his forehead against the toilet bowl. The sour, rancid smell hits him and immediately sends him into another wave of retching. 

Three words just rings in his head when it happens, this is disgusting.

Eventually, when there's nothing left, Kara helps him wash his face, brush his teeth, and change into clean clothes. She does it all in the dark, hoping it'll be less embarrassing for both of them. Then she helps him into bed.

Kara wipes the sweat from her brow and rubs her sore arm as Rocky curls onto his side, still shivering. "Grace... Grace... So... sorry... 'M sorry… I failed… you…. So sorry…" he whispers, clutching the crystal tightly. Kara can only sigh, giving a small shake of her head.

Behind her, Krypto pads into the room with his toy bone in his mouth. It squeaks loudly, and Rocky lets out a miserable groan.

"Shhh, Krypto. Bad boy. Out, out. You're going to wake him up, and he's gonna be so pissed at us again," Kara hisses softly, smiling a little.

Krypto lets out an excited yip before rushing back out of the room.

Kara really wasn't lying about the aftermath of drinking so much. He's already on his second painkiller by the time the clock hits 4 PM, standing beneath the sweltering sun. (Why did they have to make it so accurate? This can't be just for nourishment. Surely if it's for the plants, they could've found another way that wasn't so painful.)

"How is it? First-time drinker?" Tian laughs from the other side. Rocky grumbles, plucking tomatoes and tossing them into the basket. The sunglasses aren't helping. If anything, having them on only makes everything feel even hotter.

He's already unzipped his jumpsuit and tied it around his waist so he can fan his shirt and let some air in. The others don't even look bothered by the heat. They look completely used to it. Meanwhile here, he's dying. He’s dying and he isn’t even trying to be dramatic about it, his skin is one second away from melting away from the heat.

"How about we do karaoke later?" Kara asks, leaning over the partition separating the tomato patch from the cabbage field, where Veye is carefully harvesting cabbages. "We can." Veye nods. "I miss doing karaoke with you guys. We should hit up the bar after if we have time."

Krypto bounds toward Rocky, nearly knocking him over when he jumps up. Rocky catches the dog in his arms as Krypto pants excitedly, then promptly drops a rotten tomato at his feet. Rocky rolls his eyes with a groan, pushing the dog away as Krypto tries to lick his chin.

If he were even a few inches shorter, Krypto would've been slobbering all over his face. The dog dashes off again, and Rocky wipes a hand over the spot on his chin where Krypto managed to smear his wet nose before returning to work.

A few more hours pass before he finally finishes harvesting. He stands beneath the sprinkler system, letting the cold water drench him as it eases the headache that's been relentlessly pounding behind his eyes and at the base of his skull.

He wipes a hand over his face, pushing his hair back with a sigh.nHuman life isn't for him… But he can't help wondering if it could've been, if Grace were here. Grace would've known what to do. Grace would've known how to help him, how to carefully introduce him to everything.

Not this... whatever he's doing now. Throwing himself straight into work, copying whatever Kara does because he has no idea how to spend his now-short lifespan without Grace around to guide him or tell him what comes next.

Ever since he'd met Grace, it had always just been Grace, Grace, Grace. Again and again. Somewhere along the way, he'd stopped thinking about his own life and what he wanted to do because he no longer had to. He finally had Grace to care for.

The entire ride home, he'd spent wondering what he was supposed to do once he was back on Erid.

Would he simply return to work, fixing things like before and finally continue his family's legacy of making furniture? Maybe he'd go back home and restart the family farm with Adrian—if Adrian had even found a new mate? Or perhaps he'd spend the rest of his life riding the fame of saving Erid until he eventually grew old and died.

It was... such a bleak future to imagine.

The dread of facing the families of his dead crewmates. The dread of going home and pretending nothing had happened—that saving Erid had simply been another chapter of his life, something to file away into the past while everyone expected him to carry on as though everything were exactly the way it used to be.

He had Grace. He was grateful to have Grace come back and save him when the taumoeba escaped, because it meant he wouldn't be left aimless, drifting around with nothing to do.

Later, after finishing work, he heads home first, his body aching and burning. Kara is still at the farmland with the others, nowhere near finished because she's spent more time chatting than actually working. Rocky takes a bath, then goes straight to his room and scrolls through his phone, searching for Grace again and looking through the countless pictures of him he can find.

He pauses on one in particular—an article about Grace's past. He looks so young here. Not even the Grace Rocky had met. Just a bright smile directed at the camera. Rocky traces a hand over the screen before his finger accidentally scrolls down, breaking the moment. He lets out a shaky breath and saves the image to a gallery that's slowly filling with nothing but photos of Grace he'd found on the internet.

He goes back to scrolling, unconcerned with how much time he's wasting reading article after article about his mate. By the time Kara gets home, he's fallen asleep, curled around his phone with a picture of Grace still on the screen, the brightness turned all the way up so he can see Grace's face clearly. Kara stands quietly in the doorway, her brows knitting together with worry.

"We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January
And this is our place, we make the rules
And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear
Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?"

"Can I go where you go?
Can we always be this close?
Forever and ever, ah
Take me out and take me home
You're my, my, my, my lover."

"We could let our friends crash in the living room
This is our place, we make the call
And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you
I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all."

Both Veye and Tian sing in front of the TV, both drunk out of their minds, their faces flushed, hands clutching the microphone as they pour their hearts into the songs. Their voices are painful to the ears as Rocky drinks from his glass, curled up in the corner of the karaoke room. Akhilaa and Kara talk and laugh amongst themselves while Morgan and Nagai flip through the songbook, looking for their next song.

Rocky sighs, resting his cheek against the back of the white couch as he takes another sip through the straw, tasting the sickening sweetness of the melted taffy candy he'd thrown into the drink. He doesn't even know what kind of alcohol it is, only that it's going to get him drunk again. He doesn't care. It distracts him, if only a little, from the pit in his stomach that makes him feel sick as he watches Morgan giggle, hugging Nagai and throwing an arm over his carapace.

Then there's Akhilaa, smiling softly at Kara as she gestures animatedly with her hands. Everyone here has someone else—romantically, platonically, familially... What about him? He'd lost his one and only. He'd lost his special someone to time.

Rocky lets out a shaky breath, feeling the familiar press of fur against his foot. He turns his head, sitting up a little straighter, and finds Krypto lying by his feet. The dog raises his head, tilts it back, and looks up at him upside down.

Then Krypto sticks out his tongue. Rocky blinks at him before letting out a quiet huff of laughter.

Would Grace like Krypto? He most certainly would. Without a doubt. Rocky remembers Grace mentioning that he'd always wanted a dog, but never got one because he could barely keep himself afloat on a teacher's salary, and caring for a dog was another responsibility he wasn't ready to take on at the time.

Oh, if Grace could see himself now. He might be the most responsible person Rocky had ever met. Rocky could trust Grace to handle everything and simply turn his own mind off. He never had to think around Grace. Everything was always so blissfully quiet around him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?
With every guitar string scar on my hand
I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover
My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue
All's well that ends well to end up with you
Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover
And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me
And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover."

"Can I go where you go?
Can we always be this close?
Forever and ever, ah
Take me out and take me home (Forever and ever)
You're my, my, my, my
Oh, you're my, my, my, my
Darling, you're my, my, my, my lover."

Everyone claps when the song ends, and Veye yanks the mic away from Tian, who immediately lets out an annoyed sound and snatches it back. "What are you doing? I was the one singing most of the song!" Veye protests.

"What? I was the one singing most of the song! Admit it, I have a better voice than you, numbnuts," Tian scoffs, grabbing the mic again. "I was!" Veye insists, pulling it right back. "And you're the numbnuts, numbnuts!"

The two continue arguing, shoving each other and tugging at the microphone. "Okay, you two, enough. It's Morgan's and Nagai's turn! Off, both of you!" Akhilaa says, standing up to pry them apart.

They're like a pair of yowling Eridians. Rocky snorts quietly, a small smirk tugging at his lips, before meeting Kara's gaze. She's already looking at him with an amused smile. She gestures with a microphone, then points at herself before pointing at him.

Rocky simply shakes his head. Kara pouts, clasping her hands together in exaggerated pleading.

Rocky only shakes his head again, rolling his eyes. He's not singing when he can barely pronounce words properly. He may be new to being human, but he isn't new to humility or dignity, and he'd like to keep what little dignity he has intact.

Both Veye and Tian crash onto the couch beside him, jostling him in the process and riling Krypto up. The dog immediately sits upright, panting excitedly, eager to join them on the couch while Veye and Tian wrestle over the Pringles can on the table.

Meanwhile, Morgan and Nagai stand. Morgan looks genuinely excited as he takes the microphone from Akhilaa, who finally settles back down beside Kara.

Morgan punches the song number into the remote before kneeling on the floor so he and Nagai can share the mic as the music begins.

Rocky keeps drinking until his glass is empty. He refills it from the pitcher, fishes out a lemon slice and sucks on it, then tosses in a handful of Skittles and a few taffies before swirling everything together with his straw. The taffies stick stubbornly to the side of the glass, and he pokes at them absentmindedly.

He's definitely going to have another headache tomorrow. He doesn't even know how many glasses he's had anymore.

Tian made the pitcher for everyone, but Rocky has been the one drinking most of it. He hadn't even paid attention to everything Tian threw in there—he only knows it was a ridiculous mix. There was definitely vodka, probably beer too, and who knows what else.

His mouth would smell and taste awful if he didn't keep throwing candy into his drink to make it bearable. The flashing lights around the dark karaoke room and the spinning disco ball aren't helping either. Every time he turns his head, the whole room seems to spin with it. With a tired sigh, he pulls the sunglasses he'd pushed onto his head back down over his eyes and continues sipping his drink.

For some reason, he feels absolutely pathetic doing this only days before his birthday. But what else is there to do?

They're all celebrating for him... or at least using it as an excuse to celebrate. He isn't taking it to heart. They don't really know him beyond his achievements, and he doesn't know much about them either, aside from Kara. And he still barely knows about his own roommate, what kind of individual is he?

Still, with his birthday so close, and with neither Grace nor anyone he truly knows around, he doesn't really know what he's supposed to feel.

And now… He's going to experience his birthday without Grace beside him. He doesn't know how his life can possibly get any worse. Grace is dead.

Rocky lets out a shaky sigh and forces himself to focus on the reality in front of him.

Morgan and Nagai's voices sound beautiful together. It's almost like Nagai is deliberately matching Morgan's frequency, singing alongside him as best he can despite vocal cords that can barely manage English. Nagai ends up carrying most of the harmonies while Morgan sings the lyrics. Rocky listens, feeling strangely unsettled.

He's never tried singing with Grace before—not even when Grace would constantly sing old human songs, enough that Rocky eventually found himself absentmindedly humming them too.

Why did he never do it? Was it because he thought it simply wouldn't work?

Rocky takes another drink before slipping the straw from between his lips. He stabs at the taffy resting at the bottom of his glass, struggles to pull it free, then gives up and uses his fingers instead. He pops it into his mouth and chews slowly, feeling miserably pathetic, almost embarrassed by his own behavior.

Why is he like this?

Does becoming human mean he's going to be this emotional over every little thing? Does he even deserve to feel this emotional? He feels awful—worse, somehow, than when he'd been the sole survivor. Now he's alive, surrounded by humans he barely knows, trying to live among them without even knowing how to be human himself.

"Take me out tonight
Where there's music and there's people
And they're young and alive
Driving in your car
I never, never want to go home
Because I haven't got one anymore."

"Take me out tonight
Because I want to see people
And I want to see lights
Driving in your car, oh, please don't drop me home
Because it's not my home, it's their home
And I'm welcome no more."

Kara waves a hand in the air, quietly singing along with a grin before letting out a loud whistle. Morgan blushes at the encouragement but keeps singing, leaning closer to Nagai's carapace as they share the microphone.

Meanwhile, Rocky only sighs, leaning his head back against the couch. He wishes he'd brought his raincoat so he could pull the hood over his head, hide away, and pretend he wasn't watching any of this nonsense.

He wonders what Grace would think if he saw this too. Would he have the same realization Rocky is having, or would he simply not care at all? Rocky wonders... and wishes Grace were here so he could ask.

 He misses Grace. He misses his Grace so much. He shouldn't have left him. He shouldn't have gone home. He shouldn't have gone inside that stupid cave.

"Ah, damn… This again, huh?" Kara steps out of the karaoke bar to find Rocky crouched over a bush, vomiting his guts out. He pants heavily before slowly lifting his head to meet her eyes. His sunglasses sit crooked on his face, barely hiding his watery eyes.

Kara tilts her head, offering him a small, sympathetic smile. She fishes a pack of mint gum from her pocket and crouches beside him. "All good? Did you manage to get it all out?" she asks. Rocky lets out a harsh breath and nods weakly, wiping at his lips. "I think so," he mutters, his voice hoarse. His gaze drops to the bush, grimacing at the disgusting mixture of alcohol and candy he'd just thrown up. "Here, have some mint gum. We can head home if you want. You look sick." Kara pockets something out, handing him a gum wrapped in thin silver foil

"No, I'm fine… But thanks for the gum." Rocky takes the gum and pops it into his mouth, chewing slowly. He clears his throat, wipes at his eyes, then pushes his sunglasses onto the top of his head, running a hand through his hair as the cool night air brushes against his warm—almost burning—cheeks. Even so, the uncomfortable knot twisting in his stomach refuses to leave.

Which is definitely not the same black hole that always opens whenever he thinks about Grace, Adrian, and everyone he left behind. No, this was simply the alcohol he'd drowned himself in earlier tonight. His stomach is threatening to blow.

The mint helped a little. "You sure?" Kara asks quietly. "You look... like someone who's grieving." She hesitates before adding, "I'm sorry. It must be... about him, huh?"

Rocky's head hangs lower. He can't even keep it upright anymore. Everything is still spinning, and neither of them says anything for a while. Kara brushes a strand of hair behind her ear before trying another topic. "Your birthday's coming up. Anything you want?"

Home. I want to go home. The thought slips through Rocky's mind as he simply shrugs. "What would I even ask for?" Kara hums, tapping her chin. "Well... how about some new clothes?" she suggests. "Whenever it's someone's birthday, I usually buy them practical stuff. Clothes, things for the house, appliances... you know, useful gifts."

Rocky shakes his head. Grace had knitted him a sweater for every birthday. He wished he still had all of them. Instead, only one remained, and it hadn't even been a birthday present. It was simply one of Grace's practice projects, handed over as a casual gift. The better-made ones—the carefully designed ones—were all gone. Lost somewhere. Maybe donated. Maybe sitting behind museum glass for strangers to admire.

He wonders about Grace's biodome. Had it become a tourist attraction by now? A place where humans and Eridians wandered through together, imagining what he and Grace used to do there?

Walking across the same sandy paths where they would sit together.

Running through the halls of Grace's school, where he had used to teach all the loud students that would often hound his time so he would talk about nothing important to their studies.

Rocky doesn't even realize he's crying until Kara silently offers him a handkerchief. The quiet, wounded sound escaping his own throat—like some frightened animal—finally pulls him back to reality.

"Man..." Kara says uncertainly. "I know I'm probably not the right person to say this... but I know a doctor. She's a psychologist. She's really good." Rocky turns to her, mildly offended. "What? I don't need help."

Kara raises an eyebrow, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Really?" she asks. "I mean..." She gestures vaguely at him. Rocky instinctively leans back. His knees ache from crouching for so long, but he's afraid that if he stands now, he'll end up vomiting into the poor bush all over again. "I'm what?" he asks, his brows knitting together as he glares at her. "Go on."

He'd been fine mentally for a long time, he had been. And it was all because of Grace. But losing Grace had also meant losing his grip on reality. Who could possibly help him now? Not even the best mind healers could fix this. Grace himself had once said Rocky might be the most stubborn Eridian he'd ever met.

Rocky still stood by that. Maybe he'd become the most stubborn human of this era, too. Kara sighs and shakes her head. "Nothing. I'm just saying... if you're not going to see a shrink, you can talk to me, you know." She gives him a small smile. "We're friends now... or, well... we should be."

Rocky studies her for a moment before sighing. "I don't need help. I just need..." Grace. The word dies in his throat. Instead, he stares silently into the distance, chewing the mint until the sharp taste begins to fade. His eyes grow hot again, so he slips his sunglasses back over them. "Sleep," he finally says. "I need sleep."

Kara smiles gently. "Then let's go home." She stands, and Rocky slowly follows, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "Yeah..." he sighs. "Let's go." He feels exhausted, despite doing nothing but drink and throw it all back up. He feels lost, confused, hurt, tired, sad. Just everything, every stupid negative human emotions coursed through his veins.

Every feeling that always surfaced whenever he was separated from Grace had returned all at once. He was aimless again, drifting through a vast emptiness with no up, no down—only endless floating.

And part of him can't help but think he might be the worst person on this planet for feeling this way.