Chapter Text
Once Grace had slept off the worst of his post-ictal state (thank you Armando for defining that term), the two had raided the Hail Mary’s medical supplies for the anticonvulsants that Grace had unknowingly been taking every morning. Sue him, they looked just like the various dwindling supplements that get handed to him in a tiny cup most days. Recognizing the little pill he’s been taking since he was a preteen wasn’t at the top of the amnesiac’s priority list.
“There has to be more,” Grace lamented as he searched through another drawer. “Or some other brand or concentration. She knew I needed this medicine. She’d seen me take it a million times. Heck, she used to remind me to take it!”
He shook his head to clear the brief flash of memory of the time he’d interrupted an astrophage briefing by collapsing to the floor. She’d been quite concerned strict about his medical regimen ever since.
“Grace always take medicine, question.”
He set down a box of gauze none too gently. “Almost as long as I can remember. Well, that’s not saying much. Since I was a kid. It changed a bit over the years, but I’ve never purposefully not taken it. There was a time in college where my insurance hadn’t kicked in yet and I had to go cold turkey for a week. Don’t recommend, by the way. It was stupid but I didn’t have a choice.” Rocky’s sensitive hearing picked up the trace nervous shake in his friend’s voice. “The medicine doesn’t stop seizures from happening, but it reduces the intensity and frequency of them. I was hospitalized four days later.”
Rocky silently digested this terrifying bit of information.
“Mary,” Grace finally asked. “What medications were included in the medbay manifest at launch?”
A long list of words foreign to Rocky rang from the ship’s speakers until finally–
“Yes! That one, levetiracetam! What quantity was available at launch?”
“The Hail Mary had a supply of levetiracetam prescribed to Dr. Captain Ryland Grace of 7,665,000 mg. Current availability of levetiracetam: 0 mg.”
Grace sat back slowly against the wall at the news. Rocky rolled closer.
“What mean. Why no medicine, question.”
“It means,” his head tilt back as his hands rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses, “that Stratt packed me a lifetime supply of my life-saving medication. Problem is, ‘lifetime supply’ has a very different meaning on a suicide mission.”
Rocky ignored the cold rage he felt at the reminder of his friend’s originally intended fate. “Bad bad bad.”
“Bad bad bad,” he echoed. An extremely thorough interrogation of Mary and search through the depths of the medbay revealed the pill had been discontinued 8 days prior.
“At least I lasted longer than four days this time. Armando must have been slowly reducing the dosage since I haven’t experienced withdrawals.” He mentally praised the robot’s initiative while also cursing its covertness. “And,” he held up a nasal spray in victory, “I have my recovery medicine in case of emergency.”
He elected not to mention the fact that there was nobody physically able to administer said medication if he’s not within reach of Armando.
“What mean now. Grace get sick again, question.”
“Well technically I’ve always been ‘sick’, it’ll just be more noticeable now. I’ve probably been having absence seizures sporadically since we met and you just didn’t know what they were.” Rocky remembered the term from his research and immediately recalled the many times his friend had seemed to ignore him to stare at nothing. “Honestly I’m shocked this didn’t happen sooner even with my meds. Maybe there’s some interaction between space travel and epilepsy, who knew? Back home, I could probably go two or three months without anything significant. I’ve never been off my meds besides that one time, so I'm not sure what the frequency or severity may look like unmedicated.” Not a reassuring thought.
“But I think it’s safe to assume that this won’t be the last episode.” And that we’re lucky it was relatively harmless, minus the sprained wrist, he added mentally. Just because he knew his crewmate had done the research didn’t mean he needed to scare his friend with the truth. “In the meantime, we probably need to develop some protocols for if this happens again.”
“Erid make Grace new better medicine, statement. Five hundred forty-eight more Earth days, then Grace no more sick.” He emphasized his words by stomping his limbs against the ground.
It wasn’t funny, but Grace couldn’t help but softly laugh at his best friend’s conviction and absolute confidence in his planet’s scientists. “Thanks buddy, I look forward to it.” If I make it that long, was left unsaid.