Chapter Text
"What are you going to do for the next 20 years?" Grace had asked her.
And for a brief, brief moment, she allowed herself to imagine what she would've done if she hadn't doomed herself to be the scapegoat of humanity's sins. Not that she regrets her decisions. Never will she ever regret her decisions, in this lifetime or the next. But sometimes, when she lays on the hard, cold cot in her cell and stares at the blank ceiling, she would allow herself to drown in the sorrow and ache she felt (and still feels) when Grace ran away from her, desperate to save himself.
What did she say to Grace back then? Perhaps she had told him that there's no future for her. Or maybe not, and she allowed him the indulgence to let his naive, bleeding heart believe that she will be celebrated a hero.
She wasn't. But he was. Still is.
13 years since she had murdered him. It should be less than a year left until he wakes, and perhaps a few weeks give or take until he remembers that he was forced on a suicide mission against his will. Anyone else might give up, curse the world and all of humanity with it out of spite.
But Eva knows Ryland Grace. She knows him after years of spending each day at each other's side. She knows him after having watched him from the corner of her eyes almost every day. She knows him when he sat at her right and no one questioned it.
Eva Stratt knows Ryland Grace and his bleeding heart, and that no matter how much of a coward he may be, he is kind, he is loved, and most importantly, he loves. He needed one push, no matter how big it may be, to step into the person Eva saw him to be. And with all of her hardened heart, she believes him.
He wasn't sure what he expected when he returned back to Earth and breathed in the fresh air once again. Maybe some tears — a lot of them, actually — and a few dramatic speeches, but he didn't sign up to be some world saving Godlike hero that would be paraded around multiple countries and having to shake hands with multiple world leaders and smile and act like he isn't desperately craving an ice-cream ever since he and Rocky parted ways years ago—
Deep breaths.
It has been… 2 weeks since his return to Earth with the taumoeba and a solution to save their dimming Sun. He had spent one whole week under constant supervision, his freedom limited to one single room. A big one, really fancy too. But still a room, and he yearned to stick his feet in grass and feel dirt between his toes. Fortunately for him, they kept him busy, swarming him with questions about his heroic journey to Tau Ceti and how did he make it back when they all knew that the Hail Mary was planned to be a one-way trip.
He told them he had recordings, and he's sure the scientists and world leaders and other important members of the world had went through them as soon as they got their hands on the Hail Mary, but they still wanted to hear him. So he recounted his journey, his companionship with Rocky, and how Rocky — oh, sweet Rocky, Ryland misses him already — had gave him enough fuel to send him back home.
All in all, things were going smoothly. The first week passed in a blink of an eye, and as soon as he was cleared of any nasty space things he could've brought back, he was being paraded around like some sort of trophy. Or a hero. A trophy hero. Is that a thing?
Grace is much too tired to think about a lot of things these days. He thinks about his kids, sure, but the thought is fleeting as he is dragged around the world without a say. Every thought is fleeting when he is forced to smile and act like one of the greatest and bravest man to ever walk the earth and not just some middle school teacher who was forced on a suicide mission against his will.
It is not until the end of the second week of his return that he realises something. Okay, maybe he realised it way, wayyy earlier, like as soon as he entered Earth's atmosphere. No, earlier than that, when he woke up from his induced coma. Okay, fine, the thought has been in the front of his mind for years.
Eva Stratt.
He has not seen her at all. Not even a fleeting glimpse during one of those meetings where all the important people were a part of. He thought she was busy, considering how she's the head of the Petrova Task Force and is probably ordering her team of scientists around to save the world. But it has been 2 weeks, and he has not heard a single word from her. No one around him has even mentioned her. He tried asking, but they smoothed him over with a placating smile and guided him to other topics.
Almost 30 Earth years have passed since she had sent him away. Does she not want to see him at all? Not even just to tell him 'I told you so'?
Ryland stares out the window of his new apartment. It is a fancy new place provided to him by the US government, something that his middle school teacher salary could never afford. It's large and spacious and filled with luxury furniture that makes the house feel more like a place of show rather than one to live in.
The sky is blue, but not the kind that shines bright when the sun is high. No, it's dimmer, more greyish. It reminds him of Stratt's eyes more than anything.
Alright. Enough of sulking around. Ryland Grace was not someone who will be called brave twenty something years ago, but after a trip to space and back, he thinks he's outgrown his cowardice.
Picking up his phone, he dials someone. Who exactly, he doesn't know, but he knows it's someone important and has enough power to give him what he wants.
Three more days later he's in Germany, somewhere away from the cities, and it is so quiet and peaceful he thinks it's the first time he actually can enjoy Earth as it is for the first time since his return.
He's standing in front of a door to a small house. From the outside it looks cosy, the type he imagined himself retiring in when he was still a teacher teaching kids about science. He can feel his fingers tremble as he raises his hand to knock. It feels like an eternity as he stands out there, hand raised and shaky as he mentally debates whether this is a good idea or not.
The door swings open before he can decide.
"How long are you going to stand out here?"
Ryland Grace, the coward, the brave hero, is…
"Hey, Stratt," he forces the words out in a gasp. It sounds more pathetic than he wants. "Been a while, huh?"
Eva Stratt stands in front of him, hair slightly longer and paler than he remembers, but still the same person from all those years ago. She's still wearing a turtleneck, covering up almost every inch of her skin. He half expects her to wear a coat even in the comforts of her own home.
"Dr. Grace," she greets him in a much more composed demeanour in comparison to his. "Come inside if you're done gawking."
"I—"
Words fail him.
Gods.
He missed her.
Ryland pulls her into his embrace. A tiny shriek of surprise escapes her, and he can't help but hold her tighter against him, attempting to bury her in him if possible.
Seconds, minutes, hours pass. It feels like eternity that doesn't last long enough before she's unwrapping herself from his arms.
"Inside, Grace," she sighs. "I'd rather be in a more comfortable position before you turn into a koala on me."
His face flushes. "Right, right. Uh, sorry."
The corners of her mouth lift slightly. Ryland nearly chokes on the memories that surface with her expression. It's almost as if no time has passed, as if they are still the same people who shared a conversation in the sunset while the others were celebrating the last of their days.
A beat passes, and neither of them moves.
Eva reaches out, her fingers curling slightly around his wrist, her hold so lose she's barely making contact with his skin. Still, he follows her as if tethered by a leash as she leads them inside her home.
They sit side by side on her couch, close enough that their knees are touching. No one speaks for a moment, and Ryland is content with that. With Eva breathing by his side, her warmth so close he can practically feel it radiating off from her.
"I didn't see you around," he tells her.
He feels her pull away, shifting slightly so that there's a small gap between them, no longer touching each other.
"I am not allowed to travel around a lot. Retirement."
"You can't travel because you're retired?"
She sighs, "Grace—"
"Ryland, please."
"Ryland. Do you think the world will really let me run around as I want when I nuked Antarctica and paved the Sahara."
"It was to save the world!"
"I destroyed it."
Never in his life has Ryland ever wanted to strangle a person as he wants to in this moment.
"You did it to buy us time." He twists around , grabbing her shoulders and looks into her eyes, really looks for the first time since he arrived here. She looks…tired, more than he can remember. "You did everything to save us. Look, I haven't been entirely caught up since I came back, but there's one thing I know for sure: none of us will be here if it wasn't for you."
Eva sucks in a breath and closes her eyes. His heart does this thing where it feels like it's being squeezed by a strong grip. It almost hurts to breathe.
"Eva, please tell me they didn't blame you for the things we've done."
"The things I've done."
"That's not true," he argues. He has the urge to shake her, to rattle her brain enough that some sense returns to her. "I was there. Hell, the entire Stratt's Vat was there. We were all there. These things that were done, we did them. Together—"
"Dr. Grace, you have no idea how much work I've put in to make sure only my name is on those documents. That only I am to blame when someone is to take responsibility for the things that were done. Don't tell me that 'we' did them. There was no 'we'."
Oh, that stings more than anything.
Ryland remembers the fear, the feeling of betrayal when he was pinned on the ground as a needle pierced his skin. He remembers the way he looked at Eva and saw the tears in her eyes, the way she looked at him with such sorrow.
He looks at her now and sees absolutely nothing.
"Fine. Alright." He lets go of her shoulders and slumps against the couch. "Did they— I don't know— what did they do to you."
"Nothing I couldn't handle."
He huffs. "There's barely anything in this world Eva Stratt can't handle."
She makes a small sound, one that Ryland can't tell if it's supposed to be a laugh or a sob. A bit of both, perhaps.
"You will be surprised."
"I doubt anything can surprise me now. I've been to space, became friends with an alien, fished some alien microbes from an alien planet, and made it back alive to tell the tale. And it's all thanks to you. You were right, you know. About everything. You usually are. I don't blame you," he twists his fingers together tight, his skin paling against each other, "not anymore. I didn't really blame you in the first place. You said it wasn't hard to send people to their deaths, but I saw the tears in your eyes that day. It must've been hard. It must still be."
And Ryland supposes that that's all it takes for Eva Stratt to break in front of him. She leans in close, burying her face in his shoulder, fingers grasping at his shirt. He wraps his arms around her, breathing in her scent. It is uniquely hers, something that haunted his dreams when he was drifting in the middle of space.
"I'm not sorry," he hears her whisper. "I would do it again if I have to."
"I know," he says in an equally soft voice. "And I would forgive you again. And again. And again."
She laughs, a little wet sound muffled through his shirt. He thinks she's crying. He doesn't say anything about it.
"I missed you, Ryland."
"I missed you too, Eva."
I love you.
It doesn't need to be said aloud.
They love each other's brains after all. He's sure she will know, just as he knows.