Chapter Text
If you asked Ryland, his brother was pretty stupid. Once they mutually got over the shock of each other being stuck, doomed to die in space, Ryland had awkwardly suggested, “So… do you want a tour?”
Colt had shrugged, “Sure, it’s not like Stratt thought to give me the floor plan.”
So, case in point: Colt was stupid. How could he give up the rest of his life? Colt had acted before thinking, displaying his common disregard for his own mortality. Accepting the terms and conditions without a second thought and not knowing much of anything about the project was crazy. Ryland wanted to strangle him.
And then Ryland almost immediately contradicts himself. Watching Colt settle into the pilot chair, Rocky darting around and pointing out buttons—selfishly, Ryland felt his world click into place. Now that Colt was here and his conflicting memories were back, it was like the pieces that made Ryland Dr. Ryland Grace had finally fit together.
“Ry, come sit down,” Colt slapped his left hand on the co-pilot's chair. Rocky’s ball was on the other, spinning slowly in a circle as Rocky examined the various screens with his crystal gun. Ryland pushed off the wall he had been leaning on, making his way over.
He tripped over God knows what, Colt snickering at him. Ryland eventually slumped into the chair, glancing to the left. Colt’s body was still shaking with laughter. “Jerk.”
Colt reached over to ruffle Ryland’s hair, despite Ryland’s protests. It didn’t matter much in space, but he hated when his hair fell over his forehead.
What new name Colt call Grace, question? Ryland sighed in relief. Rocky had saved his hair, Colt turning back to look at the Eridian.
“It’s just a nickname. Ryland is too long,” Colt answered, going back to examining the screens around them.
“I should start calling you Colton,” Ryland muttered. Colt whipped his head around, glaring at Ryland. Successfully irritating his brother filled Ryland with joy.
Rocky tapped an arm against his ball, a low hum of slight annoyance following the action. Too many new word. Grace explain.
Right. “Sorry Rock,” Ryland apologized. “Nickname is just a shorter name for someone. Usually if someone has one for you, it’s a joke between friends or just means you know them well.”
Rocky doesn’t give a new word for nickname, instead choosing to combine “short” and “name.” Yes. Eridian name is long, include title like engineer or family designation. Rocky is Eridian short name. As Rocky says his name, Ryland ignores the translator and notices that Rocky doesn’t say the long-winded version, just a couple notes instead. Ryland had definitely noticed the difference before, just never connected the dots.
“You’re going to have to explain to me how you two even figured out how to communicate in the first place, but you managed to forget your first name? Or the word for nickname?” Colt interrupted, narrowing his eyes at Ryland.
Ryland straightened, “I’ll have you know I made the logical choice to use my very translatable last name which is ten times more likely to have an equivalent word than Ryland.”
“I hate that that makes sense.”
Ryland nodded in satisfaction. “Everyone calls me Grace anyways.”
Colt not call Grace “Grace.” Need new word for Grace other name. Rocky interjects, shuffling from side to side.
Ryland frowned. Now that he was thinking about it, he actually liked the way Rocky said his name. Ryland was a name almost exclusively reserved for Colt; considering he wasn’t seeing any other humans anytime soon, he liked the idea of Grace being reserved for Rocky and Rocky only. “You can keep calling me Grace, pal. I don’t mind it.”
Rocky made jazz hands. Rocky like Grace. Good good good name.
He loved this big rock spider. A wide smile had taken over his face. “Thanks, Rocky.”
Colt let out a deep breath, his leg starting to bounce subconsciously. “I’m never calling you Grace.”
Ryland fidgeted, smile fading. “Right. Yeah.”
Colt despised Ryland’s last name. They had been separated into foster care when they were only five, Ryland going to a younger couple from California with the last name Grace. Colt and Ryland had tried to find their original last names, but came up with nothing.
Ryland had a boring, unmemorable childhood. His parents did everything they were supposed to; but, well, nothing else. The bare minimum. It didn’t help that Ryland never fit in, hyperfocused on school and science, not meshing well with the other kids his age. Overall, it was lonely. But Ryland adapted. He had to.
When Colt had weaseled the information out of him, he was weirdly angry. Ryland had been confused, until Colt explained through clenched teeth that parents were supposed to care for you, not treat you like a pet. Ryland had cried and gotten an enveloping hug, something that had been rare for him growing up.
Colt got a better roll of the dice; Colt hated when Ryland compared them like that, but logically it was true. He also grew up an only child, but had a loving, albeit divorced, single mother in Florida who supported him. Ryland was happy for Colt; at least one of them turned out okay.
Case in point: Colt had feelings about the Grace family, hence his nicknames for Ryland in order to avoid the name altogether.
The three of them were still in their respective chairs in the control room, sitting in comfortable silence. Ryland let his mind wander. He wondered about Rocky’s perceptions of Colt. Rocky had adjusted surprisingly quickly to a new person on the ship, but apparently he had known all along that Colt was alive, just not awake. That made Ryland feel a little silly.
Wait. Ryland abruptly shot up in his seat. “Rock, I told you that Colt and I are brothers, right?” Ryland feels Colt’s questioning side-eye, but focuses on Rocky.
Yes, Rocky drawls out, Grace and Colt have same parents.
Ryland glanced at Colt, who still had a questioning look on his face. Ryland switched gears. “How do you tell the difference between us? Like, sound-wise.”
Rocky hummed, thinking. Outside structure-body is same, but bloodstream and heart rate pump differently. Rocky paused, then lifted his carapace. Why Grace ask, question?
That was reassuring that Rocky wouldn’t mistake Ryland for Colt or vice versa. It’s not like Ryland was worried about it, he knew Rocky was smart. However, he was worried that Rocky thought all humans were twins. As the representatives of the entire human race, Ryland felt like he had to clarify.
Ryland turned to meet Colt’s eyes, pondering how to explain the concept of an identical twin to Rocky.
They may be identical, but their styles were far from similar. Colt’s hair was shaggy, his bangs tending to fall over and almost entirely cover his forehead. He bleached his hair blonde, attached to the color they had as kids. Ryland didn’t mind as much, willing to let nature take its course; as a result, his hair was a dirty blonde. Their hair textures were equally fluffy and untamed, but Ryland liked to push his bangs back as much as possible. His hair usually didn’t cooperate, a few strands falling over his forehead.
Colt was all bomber-jacket, plain t-shirt, ripped jeans, and boots. Ryland was either niche, joke t-shirts and a cardigan or a suit jacket, collared shirt, straight, washed-out jeans, and battered converse. The tie was always the first article of clothing to come off, though.
Being in space has physically changed Ryland, notably the muscles. So many muscles. But it made his silhouette almost identical to Colt’s. He wasn’t ever super skinny, but he could never get to Colt’s size on Earth. Good thing Rocky could tell the difference. Oh, and they were the same height. Colt’s boots might make him half an inch taller, but they were the same height. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
Reorientating himself back on the ship, Ryland realized that there were a lot of human adjectives, unproductive for Rocky. He took stock of their current appearances.
Colt had somehow retained his hairstyle, but they didn’t pack him any of his own clothes. He was stuck with Ryland’s science-pun t-shirts, and Ryland allowed himself to be a little smug about it.
“Well, I have new human science for you, Rock.” Ryland leaned back in his chair, gesturing his arm between him and Colt. “I know you said Colt and I’s ‘structure-body’ look the same, but not all humans look like us.”
Colt finally gets where Ryland is going with this, his face’s confusion replaced with understanding.
“We’re brothers, but we were conceived and born at the same time, from the same woman. It’s why we look identical,” Ryland explains. Did Erid have twins? “We call them twins.”
Rocky pushes against the wall of his xenonite ball in excitement. Yes! Erid have same thing. Rocky leans away, suddenly slumping. Second baby in egg never survive. Scientists thought was impossible. Rocky’s claws tap against each other.
Parents told Rocky that Rocky had ♫♫ in egg. Rocky wish baby had lived. Rocky’s usual trilling is lower, softer. Ryland had quickly denoted it as a sadder tone.
Colt hummed in sympathy, reaching out and patting the top of Rocky’s ball, murmuring reassurances to him.
Ryland blinked in surprise. Rocky was a twin too. Or, would have been. Ryland can’t help but remember the years after Colt had been taken away, the emptiness beside him that Colt’s absence had left. He wondered if Eridian twins were possible, would they be as connected as he was with Colt?
Rocky happy Grace not alone as baby. Rocky inserts, albeit quietly.
Ryland flinched violently, wrenched out of his thoughts. Maybe not as toddlers, but they had missed years of each other’s lives. Colt shot him a look, eyebrows pinched together. Colt gestures with his chin. Ryland minutely shakes his head back. They were not getting into their messed up childhoods right now.
Ryland smiled slightly, “Yeah, bud, I’m lucky to have a brother. I wish you had one too.”
Rocky doesn’t mind. Rocky like being only sibling.
“I get you, Rock,” Colt announced, “I’ve been stuck with this guy for years!”
Ryland is forced to listen to the twin laughter that echoes throughout the cockpit, both Rocky and Colt relishing in Ryland’s suffering while Ryland attempts to conceal his equal amusement.