Chapter Text
“Is Grace okay, question?”
Rocky’s concerned warble startles me out of my science induced daze, and I spin in my chair to face him. It takes a few seconds for his words to register in my brain, and I blink stupidly down at him, eyes trying (and failing) to focus. He fidgets impatiently, and I realize I haven’t responded.
“Yeah buddy, I’m fine. Just concentrating.” I was currently writing a very scientific paper about Eridian customs and language. I doubted I’d ever be able to send it back to Earth, but when you’re on a four year long journey through space, any kind of stimulation is precious. It gave me something to do, and I welcomed the distraction.
“No, you stare at laptop. Not write, just stare. Why, question?”
Huh? I glance back at my laptop and, sure enough, I’m met with something that barely passes as a paragraph. That's… not a lot. How long had I zoned out for? I squint at the words like they might change into a very professionally written case-study, but alas, they don’t move. The squinting makes my eyes blurry, and I try to blink away the fuzziness. Why does my head feel so weird?
“Huh,” I mumble. My skin feels like it's buzzing, and I rub my arm absentmindedly. Everything feels… off, somehow. I’m too tired to pinpoint what, though.
“Grace acts weird and stupid. Need sleep, question?”
I bristle, opening my mouth to give a frustrated retort before stopping myself. Rocky calls me stupid all the time, why am I upset now? I take a quick breath and try to push the frustration down. Now that he mentions it, it has been a while since I slept. A quick glance at my watch reveals I’ve been awake for nearly 30 hours. I’ve pushed through worse, and I’ve half a mind to tell Rocky that, but… something is definitely up with me right now. Maybe the combination of slow starvation and sleep deprivation is making my symptoms worse.
“Yeah, that's probably smart. I feel pretty weird.”
“Rocky can tell.”
I shoot him a dramatically wounded expression. “Kick me while I’m down, why don’t you?”
The first time I used that phrase, Rocky had immediately freaked out and berated me for telling him to do that. It took a good five minutes for him to calm down enough that I could explain it was an idiom, meant to be overly dramatic, and I wasn’t actually asking him to hurt me. Now, I say it mostly as a joke, but I can’t help but let a hint of bitterness creep into my words. I regret it immediately, and hope Rocky doesn’t notice. He’s just teasing me, it's stupid to get annoyed.
Rocky rolls his ball towards me and bumps against my leg, like he’s trying to physically push me out of my chair. Thankfully, he seems unaware of my poorly disguised irritation. The touch sends sparks up my leg, and the buzzing intensifies. I try to ignore it.
“Bedtime for Grace now, sleep sleep sleep.”
He nudges me again, and I stumble out of the chair with a chuckle. “Alright, I heard you loud and clear buddy.” My leg continues to buzz, the feeling grating on my consciousness despite my best efforts to ignore it. What is going on with me? I’ve been sleep deprived before, and while I’d sometimes get hyper sensitive, it was never this intense. I’d probably be more worried about figuring it out if I wasn’t so blindingly tired.
This is a problem for future Grace, I decide. Present Grace just wants a nap.
I blearily clamber down the ladder to the dormitory, Rocky following in his xenonite tunnel, and collapse on the bed. I’m so tired that I’m sure I’ll immediately fall asleep, but instead I just lay there, staring at the ceiling. The sheets that are usually soft against my skin feel too rough. I shift, and my body is enveloped with the same staticky buzzing as before. This time, it's too intense for me to ignore, and I curl into myself. I rub my hands along my arms and legs, and it helps a little. It's all so overwhelmingly frustrating that I feel tears spring to my eyes. What is wrong with me?
I can hear Rocky tinkering in the corner, like he always does when he watches me sleep. The noise is usually comforting, but now it grates on my nerves, the sound stabbing painfully into my ears. I flip my pillow around and press it over my head.
As far as I know, these are not symptoms of sleep deprivation. At least, not to this extent. And it's definitely not starvation, the symptoms don’t make any sense. Plus, I don’t think I’m far enough along to be feeling this rotten. So what is it? Am I sick? Did I catch some strange alien pathogen? No, that can’t be right. There's nothing to catch, we're in space for goodness sake! Besides, it's like I told Stratt, this isn’t some cheesy movie. I doubt I could catch any “alien pathogen” in the first place.
So what is happening to me?
I curl tighter around myself, fighting back a frustrated whine. I’ve ruled out any physical illness, so that leaves mental. I’m under no illusions that I’m still sound of mind, no one in my position would come out unscathed after what I’ve experienced. But what is this a symptom of? Depression? No, I don't think so. Anxiety? Maybe… but I’ve dealt with both of those ever since waking up on the Hailmary (and before that honestly), and I‘ve never experienced anything like this. So why…
Oh.
The answer comes to me slowly, creeping its way into my consciousness as I begin to understand. The way everything seems to irritate me, the way my skin buzzes at any contact. The way it only calms when I rub my arm, but never goes away completely. Every sensation feels super-charged to 150%, like I’m experiencing everything for the first time. Like I’m not used to it.
I’m touch starved.
Humans are very, very social creatures. We spend our entire lives seeking comfort, usually through some form of touch. We bump shoulders sitting next to each other, nudge each other gently, touch hands when passing objects back and forth. There are so many different ways touch can be initiated. I haven’t touched another human in three years, seven years if you count the coma. I almost want to laugh, it's so absurd. Not only am I physically starving, I’m also starving for affection. And unlike with food, I’ll have to live with this overwhelming emptiness for the rest of my life. Honestly, even the food is still up in the air, but at least it's possible Eridians could synthesize something edible. It’s definitely not possible for either of us to survive in the other’s environment. I am never going to touch another living being again.
I don’t even notice I’m crying until the tears begin to pool at my cheek. God. Why am I this upset? Even before the Hailmary, I didn’t have many people in my life. Small touches here and there with my students and coworkers was all I got, and I was fine. A little lonely, maybe, but functional. I got even less of that working on the project, and if anything, I felt better. Terrified, sure, but who wasn’t? Now, I’m on my way to an alien planet with my best friend in the world. Ironically, this is the happiest I’ve felt in a long time. So why am I falling apart?
I got my happy ending. Earth is saved, Erid is saved, and I didn’t die alone in space. I found someone who means the world to me, someone I would die for. If this was a book, the story would be over, the protagonist living their happily-ever-after. Everything should be wrapped up in a neat little bow, the ending satisfactory. But this is not a story, and despite my happy ending, my heart still breaks.
I try to quiet my shuddering sobs, desperately hoping Rocky won’t hear them. Maybe he’s too focused on whatever project he’s tinkering with to hear me, maybe I can calm down and go to sleep like nothing ever happened and- “Grace?”
Gosh dangit.
“Hmm?” I respond, because I don’t trust myself with words right now.
“Is Grace okay?”
The fact he doesn’t end it in “question” shows how worried he is; sometimes he forgets to clarify when he’s stressed.
“I’m fine, just having a hard time falling asleep.” I manage the sentence with only a slight tremble at the end. I sit up and wipe my eyes before shifting to face Rocky. I give him a wobbly smile. “See? Fine.”
Rocky sets down his project and moves so he’s practically pressing against the xenonite barrier between us. “Grace leak. Is not fine if leaking.” He shifts his carapace back and forth in a manner I've come to recognize as agitation, and points a finger at me accusingly. “Tell Rocky what is wrong.”
Of course he isn’t going to let this go. Rocky is annoyingly stubborn about anything involving my health, and it turns out mental health falls under that umbrella. I seriously regret teaching him about depression and anxiety, because anytime I seem even slightly upset he jumps into mother hen mode. It’s sweet, but he doesn’t seem to get that I’m not as fragile as he thinks I am.
“I’m just tired” I try, knowing it won’t work. I’ve used this excuse too many times for Rocky to believe me.
Rocky stomps an arm against the ground hard, and I jump a little at the loud noise. “No! Grace lying. What is wrong?”
He’s more upset than I thought he was. He’s shaking a little, and his words are coming out almost too fast for me to hear.
“Grace acts weird for days, no talk, much quiet! Rocky asks, Grace says fine, but Grace is not fine. Grace heart beats fast, and rubs arm a lot, but still says okay! Why hide? Why not tell Rocky? Rocky can help, Rocky can fix!”
Rocky’s carapace sinks closer to the ground, seemingly exhausted from his outburst. I feel frozen in place, unable to move as I process his words. The silence stretches for a second before I feel guilt begin to creep in. I really worried him. God, I can’t do anything right, can I? I bury my face in my hands as I fight off the returning tears.
“I… hadn’t realized I’d been acting off for so long.” I mumble through my fingers. I don’t want to look at him. He doesn’t have eyes, but I can still feel him watching me. Guilt weighs heavy on my shoulders, and I press my knees close to my chest. “It came on slowly, I didn’t notice until now. I’m sorry for worrying you, Rocky.”
Self hatred burns so bright in my chest I nearly choke on it. It claws at my throat, and it takes everything I have to shove the burning flames back down. I almost want to let it consume me, but that wouldn’t be fair to Rocky. I’ve done enough damage, he shouldn’t have to deal with even more of my crap.
“Grace knows now, so Grace can talk.” He pauses, shifting back and forth before adding “Please, question?”
It's the please that gets me. Rocky never says please. Apparently Eridians don’t have the concept in their language, and he thinks adding it is redundant. He told me to just assume he’s always being polite. Him using it now means he’s practically begging me to talk to him.
My hold on my emotions snaps, and tears fall freely down my face. I want to tell him, god, I do. But the words are stuck in my throat, and I can't sort them out into something understandable. I nod at him so he knows I’m not trying to be combative, but I can’t seem to speak. A small whimper escapes me, and I wrap my arms around my knees tight.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” I finally manage to croak out. I take a shuddering breath, in and out, trying to stop the shaking. I feel a little calmer, so I push on.
“Just… can we please do this tomorrow?”
Rocky immediately straightens and lets out the beginnings of an angry chord, but he stops when I hold up my hand. “I promise I’m not just trying to get out of this. But I don’t think I can talk about it right now without breaking down again.” I wait, and he doesn’t start yelling at me, so I continue shakily. “When humans are… distressed, sometimes we need to calm down before talking or else we risk making it worse.”
I stare at him pleadingly, begging him to understand. I just can’t do this right now. I already feel like I’m about to fall over, the emotions leaving my body drained and weak. If I was tired before, I’m exhausted now.
“Fine.” Rocky finally says. I can tell he’s still frustrated, but understands that pushing me right now wouldn’t do any good. “Grace sleeps, we talk in the morning.”
I let out a breath of air I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “Thanks, buddy.” I dry my eyes with my shirt, and watch as Rocky picks his project back up from the floor. I can tell he isn’t fully focusing on it, likely watching me back. I wrap my quilt over my shoulders and move to lay back down, but pause. I look over to Rocky. Then back to my bed.
My skin feels better, but still weird. I don’t want to lie on those cold sheets right now. I hesitate for a moment, debating whether this is a good idea, before deciding I’m too tired to resist. I slide off the bed, quilt still wrapped around me, and lean against the xenonite wall. The heat blooms against my shoulder, and for once the sensation is comforting, not painful. Rocky pauses and looks at me. I expect him to say something, but instead he leans into the wall as well. A quiet peace settles over us, and I feel my mind finally begin to quiet. I wish I could touch him, physically touch him, but right now? This is enough. This quiet comfort, the warmth of a friend by my side. I finally feel safe. Loved, even.
I rest my head on the barrier with a contented sigh, cheek pressed against the warm xenonite. My eyelids begin to droop, and I don’t fight it. For once, sleep doesn’t feel like an inconvenience.
It feels like home.