Chapter Text
When DuBois first met the First Officer of Project Hail Mary, Head Astrophage biologist internationally and, informally, Stratt’s lapdog(?), he didn’t expect him to be in a wheelchair.
DuBois had never seen Grace in person, and no news articles on him (and there were a lot, both positive and negative) had photos of the Doctor. While DuBois was by no means upset by this realization, it was surprising.
“Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome.” Grace said when he noticed DuBois’ hesitance. “I honestly don’t care if you ask about it, at least you didn’t blurt out ‘what’s wrong with you?’” He half-joked, wheeling out from his place at the conference table and heading over to the whiteboard and standing to write “ASTROPHAGE” in large chicken scratch before sitting back down with a small grunt. He set the marker on the ledge and turned a bit.
“Annie is supposed to be here in a sec, right?”
DuBois nodded. “Correct, Dr. Shapiro told me that she would be here in——“ He checked his watch, “2 minutes and 37 seconds.”
Grace faltered at the detail, but shrugged and went back to writing on the whiteboard.
When the door did eventually whoosh open, Dr. Annie Shapiro fluttered through the doorway, slamming the door and taking a seat, belatedly catching her breath.
“Hey! Sorry I’m late, I——OH MY GOSH DR. GRACE! YOUR WHEEL COVERS ARE SOOOO COOL!” Said the world’s most experienced microbiologist.
At that moment, DuBois noticed the plastic circles covering Dr. Grace’s wheels, one being horizontal lines of orange, yellow, white, sky blue, and a dark blue (in that order.) DuBois assumed it was something similar to a pride flag. He couldn’t recall which one, though, as the only (other) LGBTQ+ person he knew was Olesya, who was very openly lesbian, and she didn’t even know the term until Grace explained it to her.
The other wheel reminded DuBois of the FireFox logo, as the cover displayed the sun spanning the area of the wheel, with a fox wrapping around it.
Grace smiled and the compliment and spun his chair, probably his equivalent of a girl twirling a skirt she just got told was cute.
“Thanks! It took forever to find interesting ones.” He said, absentmindedly writing on the board again, a bunch of numbers that DuBois would gladly decode.
Dr. Shapiro nodded. “Yeah, I can imagine! Where’d you get that fox one?”
Grace’s smile widened. “My students!” He exclaimed excitedly, then shrunk awkwardly when he realized that people next door probably could’ve heard him.
“My students,” he continued, “noticed that I came in on my bad pain days in a boring wheelchair, and a group of my kids in 5th period scrounged up some money to get this for me.” He said, smiling at the memory. Shapiro squealed.
“Oh my gosh! That’s so sweet!” She gushed, leaning across the table.
“I know! I’m so excited to see them again when this is all over.” He said, the realized what he had said and looked over at DuBois.
“Oh my gosh, that was so rude of me.” He muttered, and DuBois brushed it off.
“It’s alright. I’ve made peace with it.” He said, not daring to say what exactly “it” was. While he’d made his peace, that didn’t stop it from hurting. He’d miss his family, his friends, his dog. But the world was ending, and he was willing to give his life for humanity.
“Right,” Grace continued awkwardly, “Anyways, onto the lesson.”
————
The conference——the conference that was scheduled for Ryland Grace to present his findings, Ryland Grace who was a known ambulatory wheelchair user that was bound to it most of the time——had an elevated dias for Grace to stand on while presenting. While DuBois could have forgiven the mistake a few months ago (back when they had first met and no one really knew of Grace’s medical history except Stratt and her invasive knowledge), it was common knowledge to world leaders and the public. DuBois didn’t get angry easily, but he was pretty miffed.
Grace shrugged when he saw the (oddly high) dias, but wheeled up to it anyways. He hesitantly stood from his chair, stumbled up the stairs, and latched onto the lectern, clearly struggling to stay upright.
“Uhm——so, my findings on——“ He leaned forward, rustling being picked up clearly in the microphone. DuBois sighed and stood from his seat. He walked over to the dias and grabbed Grace’s chair, carrying it up the four stairs to where Grace (barely) stood. Grace flopped back into his chair and DuBois grabbed the mic from the lectern and handed it to Grace before returning back to his seat.
Grace continued the meeting with zero issues whatsoever.
————
After the explosion, Stratt had reacted brashly, angry as she often did, viewing the issue as an obstacle to overcome instead of the death of someone’s friends.
Which is why she gave Grace the next day off, gave him time to grieve his beloved friends. She went through DuBois and Shapiro’s rooms (which Grace would tell her is a great invasion of privacy, but souls can’t come back to tell at her) and found something in Shapiro’s room that sparked her interest.
There, amongst the clutter, was a large plastic disc with a simply painted Grace, as well as what looked to be his students. Under the doodles were what looked like names in different crude handwritings.
Signatures. Shapiro had gotten his students signatures somehow and made him a wheel cover. It was unfinished, but clearly intended as a gift. Next to it was an unfinished letter that Shapiro had started writing for Grace.
For the first time since the explosion, Eva Stratt allowed tears to fall.