Chapter Text
I was elbow-deep in the sub’s (that I recently learned was called the SM-13) dead console when Rocky asked the question. Or as elbow-deep as a person could get into a machine that had apparently been designed by someone who hated both pilots and basic accessibility while the back of my head throbbed. Mary had checked me over. No concussion. I was just going to have a really bad headache for a while.
Mary had managed to wake up part of the sub’s storage, but there was almost nothing useful. I found references to something called the Quiet Rapture. I was looking for more information on that when Rocky shifted in the hatch behind me.
“Are different number of limbs normal human variation, question?”
I had just got done explaining that human eyes, in fact, are not normally red unless there is a melanin disorder and the baby did not seem to have such a disorder. So it was odd.
“No, not normally,” I said.
“So, red eye not normal human variation. Three limbs not normal human variation. Are we sure new human is human, question?” Rocky asked.
I understood the question. From Rocky’s perspective, he had met exactly one human who was pretty much the base model. Four limbs, naturally colored eyes, average height, two eyes, two ears, one mouth. If I met an Eridian sporting one less limb and a texture that did not look like rock, I’d probably question if they were Eridian too.
In no world was that baby in the Do Not Go Insane Room not human. He looked human. He spoke English. He knew what a Little was.
“Yes, he’s a human,” I answered. “A very hurt and seemingly impossible human.”
I sighed. I was following Rock’s instructions to a tee, but the darn console would not wake up. Seemingly, nothing was wrong with it.
“Hey, you wanna take a look at this?” I asked.
“Yes, Rocky can fix. Rocky told Grace Rocky can fix.”
I rolled my eyes and pushed myself away from the console. “Yeah, yeah. Go be insufferably useful. I’m checking on the baby.”
I ducked out through the welded hatch and tried not to breathe too deeply. The SM-13 still smelled like blood no matter how much clean ship air Mary pumped through it.
The Do Not Go Insane Room was exactly how I’d left it.
That should not have been surprising. Rooms, as a rule, were not known for sudden shifts. But after the day I’d had, I half expected to walk in and find the baby gone, or crying, or somehow upside down in an air vent.
Instead, he was still asleep.
He lay on his back in the cushions, wrapped so snugly in the blanket that only his face, hand, and the tied-off sleeve of my gray shirt showed. Finnick was tucked against his chest in a death grip. The pacifier was still in his mouth, moving faintly every now and then with small, sleepy pulls.
Soft piano music played through the room speakers. Low lights glowed along the wall.
His hair had dried into loose waves around his face, mostly held back by the band I’d tied there. The scars stood out more now that he was clean, pale and uneven across skin that looked too young for them.
“Mary,” I whispered. “How are the baby’s vitals?”
“Stable,” Mary said, thankfully quiet. “Heart rate elevated but decreased from prior scan.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
His pacifier slipped slightly. Without thinking, I crossed the room and nudged it gently back into place. I froze. Huh. Apparently, we were doing that now.
“Grace, come back!” Rocky called from the SM-13, at a volume that suggested he had learned nothing from the last twelve hours.
“I swear to God if you already fixed it,” I muttered under my breath.
“Did!”
…
I spent the next few hours reviewing the information from the SM-13. The first thing I did was look through the paper manual and learned that the button was to an external camera that was basically an radiation ray. When I told Rocky, my companion got a little nervous, asking if it was safe.
“Yeah, according to this it’s only dangerous if you touch it. So, don’t touch it,” I explained.
“Obviously, Rocky will not touch. No, no, no. Bad button. Rocky will not touch.” He rolled away from the button, standing in the middle of the sub as if the button could attack.
“We learn anything else about new human, question?” Rocky asked.
“No, they use the word convict a lot to refer to him. No name,” I said. I would stick to calling him the baby until I figured out his name.
“New word.”
“Convict?”
“Yes.”
“It’s another word for prisoner,” I said.
“Baby is prisoner.”
“Yeah, but I can’t figure out why,” I said, pressing a button. There was more information about the COI. Nothing useful, just more impossible timelines with dates hundreds of years into the future.
“That is danger.”
“Yeah, he’s terrifying when he is scared of the shower.”
“Grace.” Rocky sounded disappointed.
“Rocky.”
“Should be cautious,” he warned.
“I will be,” I said. “But we don’t even know what he did. He could have killed someone or he could have been desperate enough to steal.”
“What that mean, question?”
“What?” I asked. “You know what killing is. You told me about your murders.”
“Not what Rocky mean,” Rocky said. “What desperate to steal. What that mean, question?”
Oh, yeah, Eridians were a lot more socialist than most modern human civilizations. They had money, sure, but it was to buy “extra” as Rocky once explained. Not basic necessities. Even in war, Eridians had basic needs met. So, how do I explain that for some humans, normal everyday life was worse than wartime on Erid?
“There are humans on Earth who don’t have access to food or clothes or other basic necessities. So, sometimes people steal those basic needs. And instead of making a system that provides for everyone's basic needs, the system punishes them for it.”
“Why humans do this, question?” Rocky asked.
“That’s a good question, buddy.”
Rocky made a disapproving chord. “Grace not allowed to return to Earth.”
I scoffed. “Oh, I’m not allowed.”
“No, no, no. Grace stay with Rocky,” he said.
“That’s always been the plan, right?”
“Yes, now more plan. More.”
“How do I stay with you more?”
“Just do. Just do.”
I laughed. “Okay.”
Rocky shifted from one side to the other. “New human stay too.”
“Yeah, new human stay too,” I said. “I’m not saying he couldn’t have done anything else wrong, but I think at this point, it kinda has to be water under the bridge. I’m not saying throw caution to the wind. It’s just… we have to see.”
Rocky groaned. “Rocky hate waiting.”
“I know you do, bud.”
My throat pulled when I swallowed. The marks the baby had left there felt hot and tight under my fingers. I dropped my hand before Rocky could see me touch them. Too late, obviously. Rocky saw everything.
Before he could say anything, I said, “Okay, l-lemme get this as straight as I can. Lemme just just think out loud here.”
“Speak.”
“Well, we don’t know if the universe is finite or infinite. In a finite universe if you travel in one direction long enough, you would come back around the other end like traveling around a sphere.”
“Yes.”
“In an infinite universe, you’d just travel in one direction forever.”
“Understand,” Rocky said. “Have talked about before.”
“Yeah, just let me talk, I really don’t want to sound insane,” I said.
Rocky made an encouraging chord, which I was grateful for. I took a deep breath and continued.
“Okay, but an infinite universe doesn’t necessarily mean that there’s infinite matter. So, space and time could technically go on forever but that doesn’t mean that there’s infinite possibilities.” I paused, biting my lip.
“But?”
“But if there is infinite space, time, and matter then there are infinite possibilities.”
“Explain more.”
“It’s basically the concept of multiple universes,” I continued. “If there is infinite space, time, and matter there are universes where astrophage does not exist and you and I never meet, right?”
“Bad universes,” Rocky shook his carapace.
“Yeah, um, and there are also universes where all of the stars died and took all of the planets with them and the only people that survived were the ones on spaceships. And the people there got desperate enough to send a little without a name into a blood ocean because he was a convict.”
Rocky looked as if I had lost my mind. “You think new human come from that universe, question?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but what other explanation is there?”
“How he end up here then, question?” Rocky asked.
“I don’t know.”
I pressed the heel of my hand against my forehead just for a second. My skull throbbed under my palm. My throat burned when I swallowed. The finger marks there felt too hot, like they belonged to somebody else’s body. I let my eyes close.
One second. That was all I needed. One second where no one needed water or bandages or explanations. One second where I did not have to decide whether a blood-ocean submarine from a dead timeline counted as debris, evidence, or a cry for help.
Rocky made a soft sound behind me. I breathed in. The sub’s air still smelled faintly of blood. I breathed out.
A scream tore through the ship.
A full, blood-curdling scream that slammed straight through my spine and turned every thought in my head white. I was running before I understood why.
…
I woke up warm. Warm blanket. Warm shirt. Warm fox under my hand. Warm, soft thing in my mouth. The room was dim and quiet, all blue shadows and little shapes moving on the wall. The music was still playing. Soft and slow.
I blinked. Something was wrong. My cheek was on a pillow. Not Grace. My hand was holding Finnick. Not Grace’s shirt. The blanket was around me. Not Grace’s arm.
No Grace.
My mouth stopped moving around the binky. I listened. I listened hard. The piano played soft, pretty music from the wall. The ship hummed. Somewhere far away, metal clicked.
Gone. Grace was gone. No. No, no, no.
I pushed up fast. The blanket tangled around my legs. Finnick slipped against my chest. I reached for the cushion with my right hand and tried to reach with my left too. For one second, I forgot. Pain snapped through what was left of my arm, bright and white and mean. It went all the way up my shoulder and into my teeth.
I screamed. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t. It came out big and sharp and bad, too loud. I clapped my hand over my mouth. The binky pressed crooked against my palm. Too late. It was too late. I screamed. Everybody heard. Grace heard. The demon heard. The ship heard. I was crying now too, ugly and loud and baby, and I couldn’t stop it.
Bad. Bad baby. Bad, bad, bad.
My arm hurt. My arm hurt so much. I curled around it, but there wasn’t enough arm to hold. There was only the soft gray sleeve tied in a knot and the bandage underneath and the empty place that still felt like fire.
I rocked forward with a sob. I had to stop. I had to be quiet. Grace had left because I was too much. Because I spilled the water. Because I screamed in the shower. Because I needed the bottle. Because I took the binky. Because I hurt him.
Because I was bad.
Now I was crying again. Crying made people come. Crying made people angry. Crying made hands grab. Crying made pills happen. Crying made people say my name like it tasted bad.
"Simon!"
"Stop it, Simon."
"Don’t make that face."
"Act your age."
I tried to swallow the sobs down, but they kept coming. My whole chest jumped with them. I pushed myself backward into the cushions, trying to make myself smaller. Smaller was safer. Smaller could hide.
Except I was already small. Too small. Tiny.
The room blurred. Finnick was under my hand again, and I grabbed him so hard my fingers hurt. His chewed ear pressed against my wrist.
“Grace,” I whispered. It wasn’t loud enough. He was gone. My breath hitched and broke.
“G’ace,” I tried again, but it came out as a sob. “G-G’ace. Angel.”
The door opened.
I flinched so hard pain sparked through my arm again. I folded over it with a cry and tucked my face down. Footsteps hit the floor fast. Mad fast.
I was in trouble.
“I 'owwy,” I tried to say. The binky made it soft. I pulled it from my mouth with shaking fingers because I had to talk right. Had to be good. Had to explain before the bad happened. “I sorry. I not mean... didn’t mean to. I be quiet. I can be quiet. I can.”
“Baby." That was Grace's voice.
I looked up. He was there. He was in the doorway, one hand braced against the wall like he had run too fast. His hair was messy. His eyes were wide. The red marks were still on his throat.
I made a broken sound and tried to curl smaller.
“Oh, baby,” he whispered.
I couldn’t help it. I wanted that safe feeling back. I was safe in Grace’s arms. I lifted my arm, crying harder.
“Angel, angel, angel,” I sobbed. “P’eas. P’eas. Angel.”
“I’m here,” he said. His voice shook a little. “I’m here, baby.”
I reached harder. My shoulder pulled and pain sparked down my side, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. I needed. I needed so bad there was no room left for anything else.
“Angel,” I cried. “P’eas.”
Grace made a tiny broken sound.
“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay. Up?”
I nodded so hard my whole body shook. “Up. Up, p’eas.”
“Yeah,” Grace said. “Yeah, baby. Up.”
He sat, and then he opened his arms.
I fell into them.
Grace caught me before I could hit his chest too hard. One arm went around my back. The other tucked under my knees. He pulled me close, and I grabbed him with my hand before he could change his mind. My fingers twisted in his shirt. Finnick got crushed between us. I pressed my face against Grace’s chest and sobbed.
Warm. Grace was warm. Grace was here.
His arm closed around me, firm enough that I could feel it everywhere but not so tight it hurt. His hand spread over my back like before. I shook against him and tried to crawl into the space under his chin, because there had to be a place there where nothing bad could reach me.
“Grace has you,” Grace whispered. “Grace has you. Grace is right here.”
“I sorry,” I sobbed into his shirt. “I sorry, I sorry, I be quiet, I...”
“No.” Grace’s hand moved up and down my back. “No, baby. You’re not in trouble.”
I cried harder.
“You’re not in trouble,” he said again. “You woke up and I wasn’t here. That was scary.”
I shook my head. No. No, scary was mine. Bad was mine. Sorry was mine. He couldn’t take those. He didn’t know the rules.
Grace’s cheek touched the top of my head.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
No. No, that was wrong. Sorry went up. Sorry went from bad boys to big people. Sorry went from Littles to caregivers. Sorry went from prisoners to wardens. Sorry was what you said when you spilled water and cried too loud and needed too much and forgot to be useful.
Grace wasn’t supposed to say it to me.
I pulled back just enough to look at him. Tears made his face blurry. The red marks on his throat looked worse up close.
“Not,” I said. The word came out small and wet. “Not you.”
Grace’s eyes softened.
“Yeah,” he said. “Me.”
I stared at him.
“I left while you were asleep,” he said gently. “I thought you’d be okay because Mary was watching and Finnick was here and the room was safe. But you didn’t know where I went. You woke up and I was gone.”
My mouth trembled.
“That scared you,” he said.
I tried to say no. I tried to be good. Instead, a sob hiccuped out of me.
Grace nodded like I had answered. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”
I pressed my face back into his chest because I couldn’t look at him anymore. It was too much. His sorry was too big. It didn’t fit anywhere.
Behind us, something clicked in the hallway. My whole body locked.
Grace’s arm tightened around me. “Rocky’s in the hall,” he said quickly. “He’s not coming in.”
The demon. I whimpered and shoved my face harder into Grace’s shirt. A low, quiet chord came from beyond the door. Softer than before.
Grace turned his head. “Yeah,” he said. “Thank you.”
The demon stayed outside. I waited. Nothing happened.
“He’s learning,” Grace whispered to me. “He doesn’t want to scare you.”
Grace shifted slightly. I grabbed his shirt in panic.
“Grace is still here,” he said immediately. “Still got you. I’m just getting your binky, okay?”
I had dropped it somewhere in the blankets. I could see it by my knee, soft green handle catching the dim light. Grace reached for it slowly. He picked it up and held it near my mouth.
“You want it back?”
I did. I wanted it so much my jaw hurt. But asking felt bad. Wanting felt bad. Needing felt worse. Grace did not push. He just held it there, patient. My mouth opened a little.
“That’s okay,” he whispered.
The soft part touched my lip. I took it in and suckled once. Then again. My eyes closed by themselves. My breathing caught, then settled into something shaky but almost normal.
“There you go,” Grace murmured. “Good baby.”
I tucked under his chin again.
Grace rocked me for a while. The piano music was still playing, soft and slow, filling the room with quiet notes that drifted around us.
My crying slowed.
Grace’s fingers moved through my hair. Petting like I was a puppy. Gentle little passes from the top of my head down to the loose tie at the back of my neck.
“I’m going to make a rule,” he said quietly.
I stiffened and squirmed.
His hand paused. “A good rule,” he added. “A safe rule. If I have to leave the room, I tell you first,” Grace said. “If you’re asleep, I leave something with you that says where I am. Or I make sure Mary tells you when you wake up. Something. I won't disappear.”
I stared at nothing, listening to the soft piano notes without really hearing them.
Grace kept petting my hair. “I can’t promise I’ll never move. I have to do things sometimes. Bathroom, food, science, occasionally stopping Rocky from taking apart something load bearing.”
A very soft, offended chord came from the hallway.
Grace ignored it.
“But I can promise I won’t just vanish on you. Not on purpose.” His hand settled warm between my shoulder blades. “Okay?”
I did not know how to answer. Okay was too big. The promise was too big. But Grace was here, I nodded once, barely.
Grace’s breath left him all at once. “Okay,” he whispered. “Good.”
My hand loosened in his shirt, then tightened again. “Can stay?” I whispered around the binky. The words came out mushy. Like a baby.
"Yeah, yeah, Grace can stay." Grace settled deeper into the cushions with me tucked against him. He pulled the blanket up over both of us. His shirt smelled clean and warm. His heartbeat under my cheek. My binky moved slowly in my mouth. Finnick was squished between my stomach and Grace’s side, and one of his soft ears brushed my wrist.
I sighed. Finally, I felt safe.