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Grace slammed the wrench down harder than he meant to, before taking a deep breath. They had another three and a half years of this journey, no point picking a fight or overreacting. Rocky probably hadn’t intended to send his heartrate through the roof, but he had, and the shake of it hadn’t quite left him. He did not appreciate his friend putting his life in danger like that, not again. Once had been enough. 

“Just... don’t pull another stunt like that again, ok?” 

“Unknown word, question?” 

“Stunt? Just, a dangerous thing to do, I guess, at least in that context. Just don’t do anything that risky again, yeah.” 

He was pretty sure that Rocky had inferred that anyway, given the topic of their argument, but he didn’t press it.  

If they were going to make it to Erid, they had to do this right. they had to both make it to Erid, he did not want to arrive without Rocky, that would be an issue and a half. 

“Grace need sleep, question?" 

“Probably.” 

“Sleep, I will watch.” 

He glanced at the clock. He had been up for more than fifteen hours at this point, and he was feeling it. Once the adrenaline finished wearing off, he’d probably crash anyway, so bed was not the worst idea. Not to mention Rocky probably wouldn’t take no for an answer. His opinion on human sleep wasn’t especially positive, but his opinion on sleep-deprived humans was even less so. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had been so insistent he go to bed and ‘wake up with a clear mind’ or whatever. Someone had, once, but it was blurry and vague, like most of his older memories. The things for the Project had almost all come back clearly, it was the older stuff he was still missing, mostly.  

Rocky followed him right to the bed, setting up on his side of the xenonite with a project of some kind while Grace sorted himself out for the night. Rocky would watch, the ship was repaired and on course, and a few hours rest would do him some good. 

He mentally repeated it to himself a few times as he tucked into the sleeping bag, and he was asleep almost moments after his head hit the pillow. 

~.~ 

“Dr Grace?” 

His heart sank even before seeing Stratt’s face. He knew that tone of voice. Something had happened, and with only four days before the launch, whatever it was couldn’t be good. One of the astronauts was sick or injured, they’d discovered a major flaw with some aspect of the ship, all the astrophage had decided to die at once just to spite them. She looked genuinely shaken, lips pressed tightly, brows pinched, more sorrow in his eyes than he was expecting, the kind of emotional reaction she usually kept behind closed doors. Whatever this was, it was serious. He bolted out of his chair. 

“What happened?” 

“Could you come with me, please, I... there is something you need to see.” 

Uh oh.  

Something was definitely wrong. An issue with the coma system, the guidance computer, or maybe Tau Ceti had started dimming too. She wanted him, that suggested it had to be to do with the astrophage, and this close to the launch they couldn’t afford something to be wrong with the astrophage. Unless she just needed him for a second opinion, possibly Demitri or Lamai or Lokken would be in her office already. 

Except they weren’t, it was empty.  

She closed the door of the office behind them, and switched the TV on, straight to the news. 

Contact with the wider world was fairly cut off, unless it was for official business, but Stratt had access to a few extra things. He did have a phone, but he really only used it for phone calls off the ship, even though his calls were monitored and he couldn’t just make random calls to anyone. In fact, with the media blackout running up to the launch, he’d switched it off entirely. Mostly, he used it to keep in touch with Colt, gave him vague updates and checked in on his life and then his recovery. He'd tried to do it more so after Jody had left him, even as Colt tried to close him out too, but with how busy the project was, he never seemed to find enough time, it never felt like he called often enough. He'd started blocking it into his calendar just to make sure he called regularly. Once the launch was over, once everything was in motion, he was going to visit, see his brother in person for the first time in, god, years now.  

The last time had been Colt’s accident, Stratt had granted him leave for a few weeks to help with Colt’s recovery, but even doing paperwork from Colt’s hospital room, they’d really only been able to spare him from the project briefly, and Colt had insisted he go back not long after the hospital had let him out. Even that had been, what, a year and a half ago now. Too long, far too long. He hadn’t seen Colt in person since, and phone calls just weren’t the same. 

Colt’s first question was almost certainly going to be asking where his bodyguard was this time, referring to Carl and a range of other agents Stratt had insisted accompany him everywhere, just in case. Unless she continued to require him to have a security detail after this was over, ugh, that did feel like something she’d do. 

Still, he barely looked at the news nowadays, what could possibly be so important and so concerning it had shaken Stratt. So much so that she’d break the media lockdown she’d ordered in the week before the launch to show him. 

“...dney Police have confirmed that the explosion in Sydney Harbour last night had at least one fatality, Hollywood Stuntman, Colt Seavers. Verified evidence presented by security cameras and phone footage show Seavers handcuffed on a boat and held at gunpoint by currently unidentified men, shortly before witnesses heard gunshots followed by a large explosion. It is believed to be in relation to the death of another stuntman, Henry Herrera, found dead two days ago.” 

The floor rose to meet him sharply as the room spun, but he barely felt the contact, barely felt Stratt’s arms keeping him from crumpling entirely. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen, from Colt’s photo, from the video of the explosion.  

As the reporter referred to unknown video footage given to the police and an attempt to frame Colt for murder and a connection between them through an actor and ongoing investigations like it was some stranger and not his bother. Not his twin. 

Colt Seavers the untouchable Hollywood stunt superstar, not Colt Grace who left behind people who loved him. 

This couldn’t be right, it couldn’t be real, and yet... 

Colt had messaged him to let him know he was going to Australia for a shoot, getting back in the game, and he’d admitted it was only because Jody had asked him to be there. His brother had always been led by his heart, and he was so terribly lovesick for her. If it wasn’t for how much Colt loved Jody, he’d probably have never believed love was any more real than magic or unicorns, something authors made up for stories. Except he’d seen it, in them, the way it made his brother glow. He’d been truly glad that Colt was going back to work, glad he was going back to the thing he loved, glad he might be able to fix things with Jody. He'd been excited that his brother was finally getting out there and doing things again. 

He'd been slightly worried, in truth, that something would go wrong again. Another faulty rig or snapped wire or mistimed pyrotechnic, and suddenly his brother would be back in hospital or giving up on his dreams again or something like that. That he would put his foot in his mouth around Jody because he really wasn't as suave as he pretended to be and she always saw through that.  

He hadn't considered this. 

Not this. 

God anything but this. 

“Grace, you need to breathe with me, in and out, in and out.” 

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen. Even as his vision blurred and his chest heaved and everything else in the world just fell away. All he could focus on was Colt’s eyes staring back at him through the screen, the grainy footage of him being held at gunpoint, dowsed in something, the fire breaking out on the boat, the explosion. It was all there, even blurred and censored for the public, and every news outlet in the world was reporting on it. On his brother’s... on his... that Colt had been... 

How could he be gone? 

“Grace... Ryland, look at me.” she all but had to pull his face away from the screen and towards her, “I have lawyers looking into it, private investigators, the people who did this will face consequences. No amount of money or fame will change that.” 

“Colt...” 

“I know this must be a big shock, but I did not want to hide it from you until after the launch. You have friends here, lean on u...them. You are not alone.” 

She was wrong, he’d never been more alone in his life. 

~.~ 

Grace stumbled three steps from the bed and emptied his stomach into the toilet. Tears were streaming down his face as his stomach rolled again, more memories flooding back like a seal had been broken. Climbing trees, trading place in class, baking a godawful birthday cake for their 18th birthday, catching a flight to Texas after Colt broke his wrist on set, crashing in Colt’s apartment after he lost his job before he retrained to become a teacher. Thousands of memories becoming clear, a blurred face that had always been by his side coming sharply into focus.  

Colt. 

Colt Colt Colt. 

Colton Grace, who went by Colt Seavers, his brother his twin his best friend.  

Colt who was real, Colt who was dead.  

He threw up again.  

“Grace? Grace alright, question?” 

Cold who had always been by his side. Colt who’d taken the bed by the window so he could sneak out, and had then encouraged Grace to follow him onto the roof to get a better view of the stars. Colt who’d practically learnt to drive on sets and nearly lost his licence taking him to do donuts in a carpark only hours later. Colt who he’d shared a shitty, tiny apartment with when they’d first move out, halfway between the university campus and Colt’s stunt job. Colt who sang sappy karaoke songs and cried at movies and drank far too much coffee and bragged about his Miami Vice work over the award-winning movies he’d brought to life. 

Colt who was gone. 

He slumped back against the wall, wishing he had something to get rid of the awful taste of bile, the numb, heavy feeling that rushed through him from head to toes, the weight of it all, the hole in his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, something caught his attention and he reached out to pluck it off the wall. 

He flipped the picture through his fingers. It was blurry without his glasses, but he’d looked at it before, and he knew it well enough even without needing to actually look at it. When he’d first seen it, he’d assumed it was him, even if he couldn’t remember it being taken, but now he knew it was Colt. A photo from on set for one of his movies, he’d kept it in his wallet, then brought it to Stratt’s Vat and then to the launch site. He’d had it on his desk or in his locker the entire way through the Project, Stratt must have packed it for him. The only family photo she could find at short notice, or at least, the only photo of his family. After all, he and Colt had only ever really had each other.  

Well, no, Colt had always been a people person, he’d had Jody, so many friends from his work, always Mr Social. His brother had been pretty incredible in that way, but with everything that had happened with their parents, well, the two of them had been decidedly alone from the day they turned 18 and moved into their own tiny apartment, and realistically alone for a long time before that. Even with other friends, they didn’t have any other family. He didn’t have any other family.  

Because Colt was gone. 

Colt had died. 

Colt had been murdered, and then less than a week later, he had been too. 

It was almost poetic, they came into the world four hours apart, they left it four days apart. 

“Grace?” 

Oh god, Rocky. How long had it been since he’d woken up, sobbing and shaking and not responding. His friend must be terrified; he’d never reacted so badly to a nightmare before. The first few times Rocky had seen him have a nightmare had shaken him badly, but they’d never brought such a physical reaction from him before. It had probably looked horrific, launching out of the bed, half falling to the toilet and emptying his stomach, then panting and gasping and not responding. God he was a mess. 

“M’ok, m’ok.” 

“Nightmare, question?” 

Yeah, he'd freaked Rocky out. Damnit. 

“Yeah,” he tried to force his voice level as he dragged himself over to the xenonite wall, slumping against it next to Rocky, “and a memory, a lot of memories.” 

“Bad memories, question.” 

“No, not all of them, a lot of them were good actually. I just... remembered I had a twin." 

And a whole lot of other things. God, his entire childhood had just slipped into place in one go. 

“Unknown word...?” 

“Oh, remember I told you about human reproduction.” 

“Eridians do not forget.” 

“Yeah, I know, I was just... Anyway, sometimes when the cells divide and replicate, they split completely. They then continue to divide and replicate, but into two babies, not just one. You end up having two kids who are genetically identical, and those are called twins." 

It was a simplified explanation, but he didn’t have it in him to go into more detail, not right now. 

“We do not have those on Erid, only one child per egg. You have a... clone sibling?” 

“Yeah, I guess that’s one way to phrase it, though Colt was born four hours earlier, so I guess I'd probably be the clone of the two of us.” and he’d never let Grace forget it, until, well, “He's my twin brother, and I forgot him.” 

“You forgot a lot of things,” Rocky shuddered a little as he said it, dropping his voice an octave, “amnesia.” 

“Yeah, yeah, it just hurts. I... I don’t even know.” 

“Is ok. You only just remembered.” 

“I didn’t even get to say goodbye.” 

“What is Grace twin name?” 

“His name was Colt, Colton Grace, he looked basically exactly the same as me, except he didn’t need glasses. I've always been closer to him than anyone else, which everyone always said was a twin thing.” 

He'd spent years researching for scientific proof behind ‘twin telepathy’, certain that he and Colt had it. The research had never been particularly solid, but he’d known there was something between them that was more than what science could currently explain. Probably wasn’t a surprise he went into an unexplainable and theoretical area of biology in the end, it had always interested him. 

“Your twin name is also Grace... Grace has another name too, question?” 

“Oh, yeah, Grace is our family name.” 

"What is Grace name?” 

Rocky sounded mildly outraged at this new information. 

“Grace is fine, really. But it’s Ryland, if you must know.” 

“Need Eridian names for Grace name and twin name.” 

Rocky sounded a little huffy, which felt a little unfair. He'd been Dr Grace as a teacher, Dr Grace on the project, Dr Grace on the ship, or just Grace. Honestly, for the last few years, Colt had been the only one to call him Ry. Well, the last few years before the launch, anyway. 

“Just Colt will be fine, I’ve been going by Grace for years. Mary calls me Grace too.” 

“Mary calls you Doctor Grace. Doctor is formal title, not another name, question?” 

Grace was pretty sure Rocky knew damn well that doctor was a formal title, he was just being facetious now. 

“Yeah, Doctor is a title, it means I know a lot about something, in my case, microbiology. God, Colt was so proud when I got my PhD.” 

Colt had been waiting outside the UCLA campus the day he’d defended his thesis, with a cake and balloons because he’d been so sure that Grace would pull it off. The two of them had been so busy with their work that it had been a genuine surprise to see his brother leant against his truck. Cocky grin, wearing a jacket from whatever movie he’d been working on at the time, insisting that he’d always known Grace was capable of this, his brother the doctor. There had been no doubt in his twin’s mind that he was good enough, there had never been a doubt in Colt’s mind that he was good enough. They'd driven up the coast to a quieter beach, a cove shielded by cliffs, and celebrated with cheap party food and a disposable beach bbq and a truly fantastic sunset.  

Rocky tapped the glass a few times, and Grace pulled himself out of the memory. 

“Colt and Grace were identical?” 

In spite of the situation, he huffed a small laugh at Rocky’s scepticism. He guessed in a society where twins weren’t a thing and cloning was for plants only; the idea would be a little odd. They had siblings, often who hatched at similar times, but they weren’t the same as twins. Or well, they were probably more similar to fraternal twins, they just didn’t have identical twins, no eggs with two little Eridians inside.  

“Completely identical, aside from me needing glasses. When we were kids, we weren’t always in the same class at school, I went to his physics classes while he went to my phys ed, sports, classes for half a year. I was wearing contact lenses, and we had the same haircut, so nobody noticed. We used to swap places a lot, if it was funny, and people got us confused all the time even if we weren't trying.” 

“Is weird. Humans are weird.”  

“Yeah, some twins go out of their way to make sure they look different, but we never really cared to. Well, apart from the year Colt dyed his hair dark brown.” 

A small huff of a laugh escaped him at the memory. 

“It no looked good?” 

“Oh it looked great, but I didn’t want to dye mine, so it was easy enough to tell us apart.” 

It had been for a role, the kid actor he was doing stunts for had been brunet, so at 16, Colt had dyed his hair in the bathroom sink with Grace’s help, and rocked up on set after school ready to go. Only after he’d arrived had they informed him a stylist could have done it for him, but they’d done a pretty good job. It had made it easy enough for the teachers and everyone else to tell them apart through. It had been cool, studying on set while Colt worked, though not that different from studying in the parkour gym’s cafe before Colt had been scouted for stunt work. He'd spent every evening and weekend he didn’t have work from his own part time job there, it had beaten being at home. It had definitely beaten being home on his own. 

“Many good memories.” 

“Yeah, yeah, lots of good memories,” he wiped the tears from his cheeks and took a shaky breath, feeling a little more settled, “a lot of my childhood came back with him, it was a big chunk of memories, I'm feeling... more whole now. I hadn’t realised how much was missing, a whole part of me.” 

“Good good good,” Rocky hummed low, “and Grace is ok, now, question?” 

“I’m ok, now. Really, just need some water or something, I'm ok.” 

Oddly enough, he did feel a little better. She shakiness of the nightmare was fading, and, at Rocky’s prompting, the good memories had started coming to the forefront. Not that last terrible one but of the rest of their lives. The reporter’s voice wasn’t echoing in his ears anymore, replaced by Colt’s mischievous, confident laugh. 32 years hadn’t been nearly enough, but they’d had a lot of good memories in those years. 

“Grace should eat, and drink, and check Taumoeba.” 

“Good plan, Rock, good plan.” 

He shot Rocky a thumbs down and flinched slightly, feeling yet again like he’d been punched in the stomach. Not that Colt would ever be caught dead doing a thumbs down, but that had always been his thing. That cocky smile and thumbs up, even back when he’d just been learning parkour stunts, and he’d always given Colt a thumbs up back. Actually, Colt would love that he and Rocky had co-opted the thumbs down into a new meaning, he’d have loved Rocky. Hell, he’d probably have loved the whole Hail Mary and Adrian and even doing the fishing, he wouldn’t have messed it up either.  

Right, daily tasks, he still had to do the daily tasks.  

Rocky skittered off as he hauled himself upright, going back for his glasses before starting the day. Emotional revelations didn’t change that the tauoemba needed checking and the course needed checking. He wasn’t about to risk messing this all up, they had to make it to Erid.  

Even still feeling off balance, the tasks didn’t take that long. They were fairly routine now, not that he was letting it make him complacent. The biggest delay was he found himself staring at the photo of Colt again and again, just sitting there and staring at it before realising it had been fifteen minutes and he hadn’t done things he needed to do. After the most important tasks were done, he worked through a short list he’d written himself from the night before, from the repairs they’d been doing before he’d snapped at Rocky.  

Rocky... he blinked around. Usually his friend was working close by, whether they were talking or working in silence, but Rocky was nowhere to be seen.  

“Rocky?” 

It took longer than he expected for Rocky to appear in the doorway of the lab. Had he been in the dormitory room, why was he so far away? Had he done something to upset him, to cause him to keep that distance? It had to be the nightmare, the shaky wakeup and the nausea, it couldn’t have been pleasant for Rocky. He probably just needed some time to deal with it, right, the weird goings on of a strange leaky alien. 

“Is something wrong, question?” 

“Is there?” a small, tired sigh escaped him, “You’ve been hiding from me all morning?” 

Rocky froze like a kid caught doing something he shouldn’t, before chittering lowly. But, he did come over, which was probably good. A sign of their trust and communication skills or something, a sign they’d actually survive this long trip with each other despite what psychologists said about groups in confined spaces for prolonged periods of time. 

“Grace?" 

Rocky's voice was more hesitant than he expected there was a stutter to the trill and a caution he hadn’t expected. Something was really wrong, but he couldn’t work out what. 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you... regret coming for me?” 

He blinked, head whipping over from his work to Rocky. His friend was standing near the xenonite, but hunched and nervous in a way he hadn’t expected at all. Where had this come from? Had it been building for a while, had he said something to give Rocky that idea, he couldn’t remotely think of what. 

“What? No, I told you I made my choice and it was the right one. It was the only choice I could make. Why would that change?” 

“Because you remembered Colt. Because you made the decision before you remembered Colt.” 

What?  

“Why would that change anything?” 

“You chose me, and Erid, and you won't see your twin again. When you made the choice, you did not remember you had a twin to go home to. You said... you did not get to say goodbye.” 

Oh. 

Oh god.  

Had he not told Rocky about... had he not told him the rest? He hadn’t, had he? Rocky didn’t know. He'd told him that he remembered a twin, but not about the nightmare itself. Rocky must have thought he’d been sobbing because he’d realised he had someone to go back to too late, that he’d made the wrong choice. That he was never going to see his twin again because he’d chosen Rocky instead, the guilt of forgetting and remembering too late. Rocky was probably considering it from the idea of forgetting then remembering Adrian after choosing to save Grace and go to Earth, if their situations had been reversed.  

Rocky didn’t know. 

“I... oh. No, no, I... he died,” the word caught in his throat, “before the launch. That was what I remembered, the nightmare was the day I found out.” 

He pressed his palm into his eye to keep the tears at bay as they threatened to well up again. It didn’t work, and they rolled down his cheeks. Somehow it felt even heavier than that day in Baikonur, standing in that office staring at a screen trying to make sense of the world. Everything after that had been numb and heavy, and then Dubois and Shapiro had been gone and everything had crumpled to dust. It was amazing the sight, sound or thought of explosions didn’t send him spiralling into a panicky little ball curled in a corner somewhere, given how much they’d taken from him so quickly.  

He scrubbed away a few more tears, they’d been threatening a reappearance all morning and clearly they’d decided now was the time. He couldn’t stop the way his breath caught in his throat a little, rough and ragged, the way his legs trembled until he was sinking to the floor yet again. 

Rocky vanished from the xenonite, and a few seconds later he heard the hiss and clunk of his ball. The ball that nudged against his side. He leant into it, resting his head against the top of a little. It was well insulated, but he could feel the heat where Rocky was pressed against the edge, their version of a hug. 

“I don’t regret choosing you and Erid, even if he was alive, I don’t think I'd regret it, but he’s gone. And I never got to say goodbye, it was sudden, I thought we both had more time.” 

He wasn’t supposed to be on this ship, Colt was supposed to be happy and living his dream, but two explosions in 36 hours had ruined all of that. 

“Twin means you were same age, question?" 

He blinked slightly at the question, sitting up a little. 

“Yeah, same age. Well, he was a few hours older, never let me forget it.” 

“He was young.” 

Too young, for a human or an Eridian. Even understanding the difference in their lifespans, just the concept that Colt had died before most Eridians were even old enough to go to school. Rocky had been fairly incensed to discover how young Grace was, and hadn’t really liked it even after learning about human lifespans. Of course, thanks to relativity, even if Colt were alive, he really would be the older twin now.  

“He was 32, he had so much of his life still ahead of him, he was rebuilding things with Jody, he had a whole future, and then he was just... gone.” 

“Is hard, sudden death. Not like age, you have... no time to prepare.” 

He was almost certain Rocky was talking about his crew. They'd all been young enough for their deaths to have been odd and unexpected and awful. It must have changed him, and being alone all that time afterwards, he couldn’t imagine it. Worse, theirs hadn’t been entirely sudden, they’d grown sick and died, a surprise but prolonged pain. 

“I’m sorry about your crew, Rock, it must have been hard for you too.” 

“It was, but I had time. Time to process, to grieve. Did Grace have time?” 

“Uh, no, no, I didn’t really have a chance to process it. I don’t think I slept much that night, but then the next day our lab exploded, we lost the other scientists for the mission, and then a day or so after that we launched. I launched. It all happened in a few days; I didn’t even get to go to his funeral.” 

He didn’t even have time to have a funeral. Their deaths had probably been close enough together that someone could have organised one for both of them at once, or a headstone for them, matching plots side by side, or something. He hoped so, they’d never really discussed it, but the idea of their final resting places being far apart felt wrong. Even though his would have been empty, even though he was still alive, because he’d never make it back to Earth and he’d been dead from the moment they’d jabbed that needle in his neck. He wondered if Stratt would have been involved in organising that, if she’d kept her promise of making sure Colt’s killers saw justice. He wondered if Jody had been involved in any of it, he was pretty sure she’d still be on Colt’s list of next of kin, despite their breakup. He hoped so, given he hadn't been there to do it. God, had Jody and Stratt met, what would that have been like? 

Worst of all, he’d left Jody to handle it alone, so soon after she'd asked Colt back into her life. It must have killed her, especially having to do it all alone, it wasn’t fair to her. He'd been so happy for his brother that she’d asked for him, invited him back in and offered him a second chance. They'd been so happy together, he knew she’d still loved Colt dearly even as their paths had... diverged, and he’d known full well Colt had never stopped loving her. His brother had pushed everyone away after his accident, closed himself off and, well, he’d wanted Jody to have a better, happier life than he felt he could give her, cut himself off like dead weight. He was almost certain the only reason Colt had failed to push him away was because he was already working for the project at that point and he couldn’t hover. That and, lost as his brother was, Colt had been terrified of the things and people Grace was working with and had sworn he’d always answer the phone, half-convinced one day his lab would blow up or be attacked or something and that phone call would have been the last one. Guess he’d been right to be paranoid about that. 

“Colt was scientist too? Like Grace?” 

“No, no, he was a stuntman actually, he made movies, does the stunts for them. All the cool action things the actors don’t want to do in movies, the fight scenes, the car crashes, he does those, did those. It was pretty amazing, I was so proud of him.” 

“Stunts are dangerous, yes? Why do them?” 

Right, they had discussed the phrase yesterday. He hadn’t meant it the same way then, but maybe that was why the memory had unlocked. All sorts of things triggered them, the sound of dripping water, the sight of blood, the flashing of a light, the glimpse of a rainbow. Why wouldn’t a word do the same, especially a word so closely related to Colt. It was always ‘don’t pull another stunt like that again, Grace' until it was ‘do that stunt again, Seavers’ and Colt had never looked back. He'd been so alive when he did it, the few times Grace had been able to visit his set, so in his element, the same way he was in a lab. Not that Colt had ever really seen him in a lab. 

“Because he was incredible at them. They could be dangerous, yeah, but the team he worked with were always careful with making it as safe as possible, well, almost always. A few years before the launch, something went wrong on set, and he broke his back. He got better again, but it was rough for a while. But he was amazing at it, fearless and effortless, it always felt like he could do anything.” 

“How... did he die?” 

Young, alone and in need of a closed coffin, like dad always said he would.  

He forced the brief flash of bitter memory away, the same he did with almost every thought of his other blood relations, though the answer for the question wasn’t much better.  

“He was murdered.” he choked the word out, “A criminal killed someone else, another stuntman, then killed him to hide the truth. They were trying to make him look jealous, so nobody would look at who actually did it. They got found out, but the truth doesn’t bring him back." 

“Murder means intentionally ending another’s life, question?” 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what it means.” 

“I am... sorry.” 

The sound that followed was one he knew, it meant grief and distress and sorrow in a way they hadn’t really worked out an English phrase for. Something about it, about Rocky’s genuine grief on his behalf, knocked something loose inside of him, and he started sobbing again, chest heaving, knees tucked into his chest. 

Colt was gone. Colt was gone, and they were literally light years apart, and they would never see each other again. Colt had been murdered, and he’d been strapped onto a rocket ship and Colt was gone. He might live for another 50 years, and those were 50 years Colt would never see. 

Rocky didn’t press him for further information, just pressed in close against the side of his ball, and he didn’t need the computer to translate the reassurances Rocky was offering him. He leant back against his friend 

“I’m sorry, I'm sorry, it’s just... it’s only just hitting me now, he’s gone, he’s dead and he’s gone and I never got to say goodbye.” 

“No need to be sorry. Grief is hard, and it is new. A fresh wound.” 

“But it’s not new, it happened like five years ago, I'm five years older than he ever got to be.” 

“Is new for you.” 

Damn Eridians and their impeccable logic. Rocky was right, it hadn’t been five years for him, it had been months since he’d woken up, hours since he’d remembered Colt. He'd had maybe a day and a half before the launch, before he’d been pinned to the grass and the needle had pricked his neck and everything had gone dark. A day and a half, was that all the time he’d actually had to remember Colt, his twin who’d been gone for so long already and he’d missed all of it.  

His last conversation with Colt felt like a lifetime ago. 

“I miss him. So much, god I miss him. It feels like I'm missing a limb, and it always did, I just couldn’t place it. And I'm never going to see him again.” 

“You said he was in movies, like the ones you showed me?” 

“Yeah.” 

“We could watch one, question?” 

. 

~.~ 

. 

5 YEARS EARLIER: 

Colt kicked up towards the surface, doing his best not to choke in anything as he gasped for air through the cold water. He couldn’t afford to stay here, couldn’t afford to be found alive, he needed to move, but where? 

Well, out of the water to start with.  

Ducking below the surface again, he swam over towards the docks, kicking silently to reduce the odds of being seen. He had been vulnerable in the boat, he was more vulnerable in the water, he couldn't risk being caught. Still, he was a damn good swimmer, and it didn't take long before he reached the bottom of a section of the docks. The water lapped at his chin as he clung to the bottom rungs, concealing himself under the planks and taking a few deep breaths of real air. He needed to assess before he moved, work out where Ryder’s goons were, and what the fuck he was supposed to do next. 

Colt froze at the sound of voices above him, glad he’d opted to duck under rather than climb straight up. If it was Ryder’s cronies, he was well and truly fucked. Had they spotted him, or was it by chance?  

“Captain Patel, I'm the head of the dock’s security, we’re glad the police got here so quickly.” 

Cops, oh thank god. That was probably good, right, probably helpful. Unless they thought he was a murderer, then maybe they’d try to arrest him, which probably wouldn’t be so great. 

“Not quickly enough, you have the security footage?” 

Security footage?  

“Yes sir, and it has audio, I’ve got a guy pulling it up for you now.” 

Holy shit, had those idiots tried to kill him on camera? On a camera with audio? It fit with everything else they’d messed up. God, he’d nearly been framed and murdered by a group of utter, incompetent morons, that was just offensive.  

“Listen I'm gonna need the phone, where is it? It’s a matter of urgency, I need to know.” 

“Right,” his own voice came back, “the one that proves you killed Henry, not me.” 

And they were listening to it right now, huh. No time wasted, though if half the harbour was on fire that was probably worth the rush. Would ‘they were shooting me’ be a good enough excuse for the property damage he’d probably caused with the boat crash, he hoped so. He adjusted his grip to pull himself slightly higher out of the water, to hear better. He could barely even remember this conversation the first time, some, what, 15 minutes ago. It was all blurry, probably the adrenaline.  

He was probably really going to start hurting once that wore off. 

“Phone,” the captain called out, “we need to be looking for a phone. Have we found one yet?” 

“Not sure yet. Can we identify the man tied to the chair?” 

“Looks like the same guy who was in the video that got sent to the news, did Peterson’s team finish verifying that yet?” 

Ok, there were at least three people up there, watching the footage, three witnesses. Three people who’d know he hadn’t killed Henry, if nothing else. 

“I don’t know but I think he’ll need to see this.” 

“...torturing me right outside your superyacht, like a bond villain DIPSHIT. What went wrong? What went right?” 

Oh if he had to listen to Ryder’s stupid spiel again, he was going to scream and give himself away. Bastard always had been full of himself. 

“Well you mean you pushed me over the edge. You literally pushed a button, I mean you didn’t, I mean, I pushed the button. I had to crank it up a notch.” 

“That was you?” 

“Yeah, had to teach you a little lesson, didn’t I? Got a little too big for your boots, didn’t you. Henry's no different, you know.” 

His gut twisted. It had hurt hearing it the first time, but somehow it was worse now. Ryder had changed the settings, Ryder had broken his back, all because the man’s damn ego couldn't cope with what, his chin? A fleeting moment of his chin on camera that nobody would ever actually notice or care about. All this time of not knowing what went wrong, the stunts team blaming themselves, Ry threatening to sue the studio for safety violations, all that time falling apart, and it had been Ryder all along. His accident hadn’t been an accident. Intentional sabotage; attempted fucking murder. 

“Oh god.” 

“Make sure we have a copy of this, it’s a confession. We've got him for at least one count of murder; Peterson needs to see this. It's his case.” 

“This plan was so simple, you know.” 

“He’s not about to lay it all out for us, is he?” 

“Shhh.” 

“...put Henry’s body on ice so it doesn’t decompose. We could pull you out from that rock you crawled under.” 

“My life, yep.” 

“You know, scan your face, Dressy here was gonna stick you in the murder video, drug you, drive you and Henry’s body off the Sydney harbour Bridge in your car... boom. You got murder, suicide.” 

“And there it is, sometimes they make it easy for us.” 

“A man is dead, Steve. Two men.” 

“Colt you’re the fall guy, you’re the fall guy, you know. Where's the phone?” 

His gut clenched as Ryder threatened Dan and Jody again and he forced himself to focus on not throwing up or slipping and going back under the water. Ryder had always been an ass, but he’d never clocked the man as wilfully malicious like this before, except the man was. There were probably dozens of scandals that Gail had covered up, things like this. The man was a monster. A complete monster.  

When he zoned back in, the conversation had turned to his screams for help, then the sounds of a fight, the gunshots, the explosion. It was odd, the chase had felt like longer, unless they’d sped it up, maybe they didn’t have camera angles on all of it. 

“My god.” 

“So Seavers was being framed, god, poor man.” 

“We need to sweep the bay.” 

“Sir, that explosion...” 

“We have to do the sweep anyway, he was on the boat, get the rescue squad here, we need to look. And find the rest of the people on this footage, identify them and get them into custody, they’re wanted for two counts of homicide and one count of attempted homicide at least.” 

Ok, so the cops knew the truth, that was good. That meant they’d be looking for Ryder, unless Gail got him out of the country, but even then, it might mean he’d get stopped at the airport here or stateside. They knew they’d been trying to frame him, that Ryder killed Hererra, that Ryder had tried to kill him before. That meant he wasn’t going to face a murder change on top of everything else, which was, well, not ideal but better. They didn’t know he was alive, they didn’t know he could hear every word, would they still arrest him, would it be better to stay hidden? 

“And... see if we can find Seavers’ next of kin, I've got a call to make.” 

Oh no, no that was Ryland. He couldn’t do that to his brother; it would kill him. A call from the police telling him that he was dead, he couldn’t let that happen. All they had was each other, he couldn’t put Ry through that. Colt took a deep breath, this was either a big mistake, or a fantastic choice. 

He hauled himself out from under the dock, heaving himself out of the water and onto the planks with a gasp. 

“Oh my god.” 

“They tried to kill me,” he rasped, voice coming out rougher than he’d expected, “They killed Henry, oh god. You gotta help me. I didn’t kill anyone, you gotta help me.” 

“Mr Seavers, Mr Seavers look at me, my name is Captain Patel, we've seen the security footage, we’ve heard their confession. We’re going to help you.” 

Oh thank god. 

It was, admittedly, not the most comfortable position to be in, lying on his back on the docks with three cops standing around him, but he really needed a moment to breathe. To close his eyes and just breathe. He'd definitely taken in some of the harbour water, and some smoke, and the gasoline hadn’t been great even though he’d been careful with it, not to mention the yelling. No wonder his throat was a little scratchy when he spoke. And everything hurt, more than normal stunt work hurt, he’d kind of taken a beating, was his nose broken? It felt broken. Everything felt a bit broken really, it all ached. 

“Mr Seavers, can you stand.” 

“I think so, why?” 

“We can’t call you an ambulance and risk them finding you’re still alive, not yet. So we have two choices, put you in my hat and coat and walk you to a car and drive you away, or wait for the search boat to come back, and load you into the coroner's van. Your choice.” 

It took him a second to realise what the captain was proposing, before he opened his eyes again to look up at them. 

“You want them to think I'm dead?” 

“To keep you safe until we have them in custody. They were shooting in Sydney Harbour, they blew up part of the dock, they’re dangerous and I don’t want them hunting through my city. We let them think they succeeded, then reveal the truth once we have them.” 

“My friend Dan, Dan Tucker, he saw the footage too, of Ryder killing Henry Hererra. He's the stunt coordinator for Metalstorm, they were shooting at him too. They might still be going after him.” 

“We’ll find him, and get him into protective custody.” 

The captain nodded at one of his men who ran off, hopefully to do just that. God he hoped Dan was ok, he had to be ok. 

“Thank you. And uhh, walk, I think, I don’t wanna go in a body bag.” 

He had done a stunt sequence in a body bag before, it had been pretty uncomfortable, and he’d just as sooner not relive the experience. 

“Fair enough. Let's get you up then, we’ll have someone look at your injuries back at the station.” 

He'd spent his whole life blending in and turning into someone else, well, he hadn’t intentionally pretended to be Ry that often even if people got them confused a lot, but his whole career anyway. Sixteen years, which was actually about half his life, he’d been pretending to be someone else. Still, it surprised him how well the hat and extra coat worked at getting him around without anyone looking at him, despite the hive of people from emergency services to onlookers to news crews. Just another cop, for the distance of the walk from the security office to the car. One of the cops had transferred over several copies of the security footage too, in multiple formats, and emailed it over. 

He couldn’t fault the man’s caution, not when the only device with the footage of Ryder killing Henry had been shot and destroyed. Not when the people shooting up the harbour had gotten away. 

“Hey, could you do me a favour, call my brother, he’s in, shit I don’t remember where, I don’t want him to see this on the news. He's not in the country, I don’t...” 

“We can give him a call when we get to the station and get this all processed, do you have his number.” 

“Yeah, yeah, thank you.” 

The rest was a bit of a blur, the drive, the processing, the rush of people around him and then the quiet. They'd moved him to a side room with a sofa, pulled the blinds and put security on the door. The medic had treated him, they’d shown him the TV and given him some water and some food and a blanket if he wanted to take a nap, then told him he had to stay in unless absolutely necessary to avoid things getting out. And then he’d been alone.  

The room had been still and silent and empty, cut off from the world around them, cut off from chaos and noise and all of it. A weird feeling, the calm in the eye of the storm, almost, but it was hard to ignore everything going on around him. Hard to ignore that he’d been framed for murder, shot at for real, nearly blown up. He'd been drugged and kidnapped and tortured, nearly set on fire. And now he was supposed to just lie down and take a nap? 

He flicked on the news instead. Somehow, despite everything, seeing his own face staring back at him next to Officer Peterson’s face had been a shock, the press conference he could probably see from outside if he left this room. 

“We are investigating the deaths of Mr Hererra and Mr Seavers, and as the investigation is ongoing, we can only give you limited information at this time. Firstly, we would like to say that the footage of Mr Seavers and Mr Hererra released to the press earlier today was doctored, it was filmed on the 5th, almost 36 hours before Mr Seavers entered the country. Secondly, we can reveal that Mr Seavers came to us with concerns about the safety of Mr Hererra before the events of last night, and had been fully cooperating with us and our investigation. Thirdly, although we have yet to recover his body from the harbour, we are currently also investigating Mr Seaver’s death as a homicide in relation to this investigation. We can confirm he was on the boat that exploded in the Harbour, and that there is evidence of foul play. Thank you.” 

Shit, so it was out there. These guys worked fast, and they’d come right out and cleared his name like that. Crazy that Ryder and Gail hadn’t considered they might date the doctored footage and put together that he hadn’t been in the country, hadn’t considered this would probably still lead to them. Yeah, he might have been dead for it, but it wouldn’t have gone their way. They'd cleared his name, even if the world thought he was dead, that was better than dead and a killer. 

Small positives, right. 

He slumped back against the sofa and switched the TV over to some mindless gameshow, the kind of thing he and Ry had always been pretty amazing at when they were kids. Noise to fill the silence of the room. It had drowned out the arguments when they were kids, huddled around a tv guessing the answers between them, filling the gaps in each other’s knowledge, then quiet nights in their shitty little flat that cost an arm and a leg every month but was theirs. No matter how exhausting his stunts got, or how stressed Ry was with his studies, they could always unwind with a show like this. He’d watched a few with Ry at the hospital, but once his brother had gone back to that fancy top secret project of his, he’d stopped. It hadn’t felt right watching them alone, hadn’t felt right watching them when he didn’t feel much like himself at all. 

The door opened and he shot upright. 

“Dan, oh thank goodness.” 

“Colt, I thought they’d killed you.” 

The cop next to Dan smiled as his friend entered the room and they almost crashed into each other. God, he’d never meant to drag Dan into any of this, not that he’d meant to be dragged into any of this. What would Gail have done if he’d stayed in LA, or not answered his phone?  

“We’re setting up a safehouse for you both now, but with so much media around the building we’re thinking of waiting until tomorrow to move you, if that’s ok.” 

“That’s fine, thank you. Have you managed to get through to my brother yet?” 

“Not yet, I’m afraid, but we’ll keep trying.” 

“Thank you. And uhh, Jody Moreno, she’s our director, they threatened her, and I was on the phone with her before the explosion, can you...” 

“I’ll let the captain know.” 

“Hey,” Dan turned back to the officer, “I don’t know if this is of any use. I grabbed it before I ran, it’s got a bullet hole in it, but I figured it was better not to leave it behind.” 

The phone. 

Dan had grabbed the phone.  

He let out an almost giddy laugh, his friend was a genius. If there was even a chance that evidence was on there, that would help just as much as the confession. How he’d managed to grab it, Colt had no idea, but damnit Dan was good. 

“Yeah, if the chip is still intact, we can put it in another device, might be a long shot but worth trying, can I get an evidence bag over here?” 

“You guys are working fast on this.” 

“There was a major shooting and explosion in Sydney Harbour, we’ve managed to stop the terror attack rumours but it’s still a major attack in a big city, and this kind of thing doesn’t really happen here in Australia. And worse the bastards got away before the armed response team arrived. So yeah, it’s all hands on deck.” 

Well, yeah, that made sense. 

The door clicked shut, the cop gone, and suddenly they were alone. at least he wasn’t completely alone anymore. 

“You ok?” 

“Yeah, just bruises.” Dan clearly wasn’t ok, if there was no movie quote attached to that, “You?” 

“A little singed,” he joked, “slightly tenderised, but mostly ok.” 

They both flopped into the sofa. It wasn’t really big enough for them both to lie down, well, it was barely big enough for one of them to have laid down, but luckily they had more than enough experience napping while sitting, or in any other position. The joys of movie production. 

Dan gestured to the TV. The gameshow he’d been half watching had finished, and it was briefly covering the local evening news, before the next one would start. 

"You think this is international news?” 

“God I hope not, I don’t want Ry seeing this.” 

“That’s fair, yeah. How is he, anyway, it’s been ages? Still working on that confidential project or back to teaching or...?” 

“Yeah, still on that Project, I think he’s in one of the ‘Stan’s at the moment, don’t remember which one.” 

He hadn’t been paying as much attention to the launch as he probably should have, but he knew it was in that part of the world. Ryland had probably told him too, despite how confidential things were with his work. He couldn’t wait to hear all about it once Ry wasn’t so busy, or once things were less classified. 

“One of the Stans?” 

“Yeah, whichever one they launch rockets from, I don’t remember. God, that’s soon, isn’t it? No wonder they can't get through to him, he’s probably really busy." 

“Do you even know what he’s doing with the Hail Mary Project, or am I not allowed to know? We’ve had enough excitement without one of his weird bodyguards showing up.” 

Another laugh slipped out. That had been weird, his brother showing up in his hospital room with bodyguards, because apparently, he was so valuable to the project his boss wouldn’t risk him out and about without them. The only upside was that it had clearly been just as odd for his brother, who seemed to think he wasn’t that important despite the phone calls and paperwork he was managing that were clearly high level. His brother on the project to save the sun, the lead biologist, the kind of person kids would be writing reports about in 20 years' time at school.  

“Yeah, he’s still their lead biologist, or something, though I don’t know the details, he’s always been careful with that. Last I heard, he was training the astronauts and doing lab work I do not understand. Did you know he’s the one who named Astrophage, the one who found out they were alive, which is seriously cool, and he neglected to mention it before.” He’d probably been a little focused on the whole ‘broken back’ situation, but Colt had been pretty mad to only find out later how deep into the project his brother had been, “He might actually be done, after the launch, or at least allowed some leave. I need to see him; it’s been too long.” 

“I’m glad you’re still talking, you kind of...” 

“Shut everyone out and disappeared a little, yeah.” He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, “I'm sorry man, I said it to Jody, but i need to say it to you too. I couldn’t face it, and I closed everyone out, and I shouldn’t have. I really am sorry.” 

“Hey, I get it. I've spent the last year and a half trying to work out how it happened, how we got it so wrong, and I just can’t.” 

“Oh, Ryder messed with the controls.” 

“HE WHAT?” 

“Yeah, thought I was getting ‘too big for my boots’ or something, wanted to take me down a peg. Fucker.” 

Dan stood sharply, pacing back and forth and back again, fists clenching. It was not the kind of reaction he’d expected from his friend, not even a little bit... maybe he should have been less blunt about how he’d said it. 

“Ryder messed with it, god he was the one who asked to do the take again, he was the one who... and he killed Henry. God.” 

“Yeah, turns out he really is a complete ass.” 

“That,” Dan flopped back into the seat next to him, reaching for the remote, “is a big understatement. Movie?” 

“If they’ve got any movie channels, just no Ryder.” 

Dan paused on a British channel, and his own face stared back at him. Ah, this had made international news. 

“In other news, Sidney Police have confirmed that the explosion in Sydney Harbour last night had at least one fatality, Hollywood Stuntman, Colt Seavers. Verified evidence presented by security cameras and phone footage show Seavers bound on a boat and held at gunpoint by currently unidentified men, shortly before witnesses heard gunshots followed by a large explosion. It is believed to be in relation to the death of another stuntman, Henry Herrera, found dead two days ago.” 

“Well, you’re a global name now.” 

“Not sure that’s a good thing. Fuck I hope Ry doesn’t see this.” 

Dan continued flicking through channels until they settled on Terminator 2, and Colt let his eyes fall closed. It would be fine, he just needed a few moments, just a few... 

He woke up to the sound of the Italian Job, and the door opening. Glancing to his left, Dan was still asleep, and the clock behind him read 10:15. It had been later than that when he’d been picked up by the police, which meant that was 10:15am. Huh, he’d probably managed about four or five hours of sleep, that wasn’t bad. He looked back to the door, to the officer stepping in, and once again the man wasn’t alone. 

“Jody.” 

She was dressed for a day on set, she still had her headset around her neck, and she looked... wrecked. 

“Colt, oh my god. I thought you were dead, the news said you were dead, and that call what was that call? Then they came to set and arrested Ryder and Gail, and they asked me to come with them, god I thought they were bringing me here to identify your body, why didn’t you call me back?” 

She pulled him into her arms, and he leant into it. Against his will, he was shaking, and he grasped the fabric of her top tight, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He had called her before the explosion, hadn’t he, told her about why he’d closed her out and that he still loved her, probably not his classiest move. 

“I know, but it’s ok, I'm ok.” 

“What happened?” 

He reluctantly pulled out of the hug, rubbing one hand down his face and guiding her to a chair. There was a lot to explain here, probably best he explained all of it. 

~.~ 

It took five days to round up the rest of Ryder’s gang. By the end of the first day they’d been moved from the station to a proper safehouse, one that had books and dvds but nothing trackable except the cop’s phones. He was a little pissed he’d missed the Hail Mary launch, given how important it was for Ry, but his brother would probably prefer he was alive over watching some rocket take off. 

He'd planned on scanning the footage to see if he could see his brother in the control room, they’d probably have let him be in the control room, right? Eh, it was fine, he could probably watch it on a replay, it would be on youtube or something. 

Still, he and Jody and Dan were having a pretty good time in protective custody, all things considered. They'd learned never to go against Dan in monopoly, that Jody was still pretty wicked at poker, and that he could still remember how to play clock solitaire. The karaoke had been wonderfully tolerable, and they’d watched far too many movies. It had been a weird few days, really, but good too. A lot like old times, actually. 

And then the police had come in and called them down to the station, the whole gang in custody, the press release that he was alive, a whole lot of paperwork, and after all of that, a woman with red hair waiting for him in one of the side rooms with Jody. He didn’t recognise her, but Jody looked like she’d been crying. God, a replacement producer shutting down Metalstorm or something? He hoped not, Jody had worked so hard, that wasn’t fair.  

“Mr Grace?” 

“...yes?” 

“My name is Eva Stratt...” 

“You work with Ry. You're his boss.” 

“I was, please sit.” 

He pulled out the chair but didn’t sit in it, not yet. He wasn’t sure why his brother’s boss was here, but he was feeling very ill at ease with it all. And Jody’s tears, this wasn’t about Metalstorm... 

Something heavy settled in his stomach. 

“As you know, your brother was the lead Astrophage researcher for Project Hail Mary, his contributions have been invaluable, and as well as working for me, I counted him among my friends. There were few i trusted more, and...” 

“Hold on, you keep saying was and counted and talking in the past tense, what’s going on here?” 

She paused for a second, something shadowing her expression. 

“Three days before the launch there was an explosion in our research facility...” 

“Oh god.” 

He fell into the seat.  

An explosion in the research facility, an explosion, there had been an explosion... 

“Ry...” 

“Was not inside at the time, but both of the scientists trained for the mission were. Your brother knew how costly a delay to the launch would be for Earth’s future, and that he was fully trained and up to speed on all aspects of the Project.” 

No, no she couldn’t possibly be implying... 

“Where’s my brother!" 

“The Hail Mary left orbit a little over 36 hours ago. It's on route to the Tau Ceti system. Your brother is aboard.” 

“But that's a suicide mission! It’s a suicide mission! He can’t... he can’t be on that ship. He, no, no he’s not an astronaut, he’s a biologist. He used to get sick doing donuts on the beach, he can’t be in space.” 

“Mr Grace.” 

“He’s not an astronaut!” 

He was a teacher, he was a researcher, he was a dork and a clutz and always kept his feet firmly on the ground. He wasn’t an astronaut, he wasn’t... he couldn’t be in space. 

“He understood the risks, he has trained with every piece of equipment, he was in every technical, scientific and strategic meeting for the project, he understood he was our best option, our only option. He chose to give his life for the future of our planet; he is a hero.” 

“I... he didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t get to say goodbye.” 

“I am sorry, Mr Grace. We... we believed you deceased, or else we would have ensured you had that chance to say goodbye.” 

No, no, he’d seen the news report, he’d believed it. He'd thought Colt was dead and... and... and he’d agreed to go to space? He'd agreed to die in space, to never see Earth again, had he not had anything else here to live for? No, no, Ry had always loved life, lived for the sake of living, seen wonder in every leaf and grain of sand, every single star and every golden sunset. He loved Earth, he loved life, why would he choose... this? 

“Ry... think's I'm dead?” 

“Yes. I was only informed otherwise an hour ago.” 

“Then, then why are you here?” 

“I can never repay the sacrifice your brother has made, what we owe him, but ensuring your killer saw justice felt like a good place to start. To try. I will see that through.” 

He didn’t know what to say to that. Was there anything he could say to that? She'd come to honour Ry by making sure the people who’d killed him faced justice, only to find out he was still alive. She was going to make Ryder and Gail and his goons pay, and god he wanted her too. They were ethe reason he hadn’t been able to say goodbye, they were the reason he... the reason Ry... if they hadn’t tried to frame him, would his brother still be here? 

“I am sorry for your loss, Mr Graace, your brother was truly an incredible man.” 

He barely registered the woman standing and leaving, Jody sinking into the now empty chair, but as she slipped her hand into his, he squeezed. He clenched her hand hard, probably too hard, but he couldn’t let go. If he let go, he feared he’d shatter into a thousand pieces nobody would ever be able to put back together again. 

“It was my fault, Jode.” 

“It was not your fault.” 

“He thought I was dead, he was grieving, he...” 

“He was qualified, and thought he could do some good. He chose to save us all.” 

“I should have called him, I should have...” 

“You did call.” 

“Too late, after they’d gone into media blackout, after everything got super busy, after he volunteered to... god he thinks I'm dead. He got on that ship thinking I'm dead, he got on that ship a day after finding out I was dead, he... he's all alone in space and he’s going to die and he thinks I died and he’s so far away...” 

His voice failed him and he dissolved into sobs, falling into her hold entirely. Ry was sailing further and further away from the earth with every second, sailing to his death. He was already dead, even though he wasn’t yet. Colt would never see him again, never hear him laugh, never hear another stupid joke. No more gameshow evenings, no more trading stories, no more taking turns finding wonderfully ugly birthday cakes or... no more Ry. His brother wouldn’t be at his wedding, if he and Jody ever got to that point. If he ever had kids, they’d never know their uncle. Their uncle who saved the world. His brother who was going to the world. 

His brother who was gone. 

He couldn’t breathe, the vice around his chest was so painfully tight, everything felt numb and like it wasn’t even his body anymore. He'd thought breaking his back was the worst day of his life, but fuck it wasn’t even close. When he’d broken his back he’d known Ry would walk through that door, but he wouldn’t this time. Never again.  

For the rest of his life, he was alone. Half of a matching set, and he’d never be whole again. For the rest of his life every time he looked in the mirror, he’d see a ghost, see age lines develop that Ry would never get to develop, years and years his brother would never get to see, and then... Ry was going to die in space, alone. Years from now, but with the way space worked, he was still so young. Ry was going to die so young, and he’d never get to say goodbye. 

Ry was already dead; Ry was already gone. 

He hadn’t said goodbye. 

“I've got you, I’m here, just breathe, I’ve got you.” 

~.~ 

“This is Dr Cpt Ryland Grace reporting from the Hail Mary, as the Eridians say...” 

He switched the recording off and bent over, head in hands. His back ached at the motion, but he honestly didn’t care. His back ached at most things these days. God, he’d looked so young, Colt hadn’t looked like that in decades. A four-year journey, and then his time in space, he’d only been, what, 36. That was still weird to get his head around, he’d been 44, and Ry had still only been 36, and if he’d made it back to earth, he’d have been 40 when Colt would have been 56. Wow, he really would have been the younger twin then, except he hadn’t come back. He was never coming back. 

Why did it hurt more now? He'd known Ry was never coming back, he’d known he’d never get to see his twin again, he’d had a decade to come to terms with it. So why did it hurt more now? 

Because he'd chosen an alien, and saving a whole other world. He'd chosen to go even further away, to never see another human again, to... to starve on some planet so far from Earth it wasn’t even visible. He'd had the choice, the chance, and he hadn’t chosen them.  

“Do you think... he would have come home, if he’d known I was still here?” 

“I don’t know, darling, I don’t know.”