Chapter Text
When the alien spaceship had first touched down on their planet, the Eridians had been wary, to say the least. 50 years after they had sent up their own ship to investigate the dying stars in an attempt to save their planet, a new, smaller vessel had appeared, hovering out of their atmosphere. Radio contact had revealed that the vessel hadn’t been made to safely enter the atmosphere, so they would need a dedicated team to come up to help them make their way safely down to the planet’s surface.
Perhaps the most surprising part of that had been the voice on the other end of the radio: one of the 23 crew members who had been sent up half a century before on the Petrova Line mission. The engineer, long thought dead or lost in space with the rest of them, had spoken to them from aboard this alien vessel, frantically explaining that they needed aid to come down to the planet’s surface, and now.
It had only taken a few days for a dedicated task force to work together to retrieve the ship and cloak its exterior in specialized xenonite to allow it to survive reentry. The engineer had explained, during the process, the most basic details of what had happened: the other 22 crew members had died on the mission, from a previously unheard-of illness. The engineer had been left alone for decades, until this alien vessel had appeared, and they had learned that the two of them were there for the same reason. This alien was also the last of its crew alive, and was currently actively dying because it had chosen to abandon its chance to go home in order to save the engineer when his ship had failed.
The engineer did not seem too concerned with going into further details about the mission until he was certain that this alien would be okay. Any questions regarding the Petrova Line or the mission details were quickly brushed aside, met with demands to focus on saving this odd, squishy alien - although the engineer had given the solution, a predator to eat the astrophage, to the relevant scientists, as soon as they had been able to safely exchange things out of the ship; but the engineer refused to speak any further on the issue. Erid had time, after all, so while they were all eager to get to work, they weren’t going to demand the engineer’s focus on the matter just yet.
Adrian had been the most excited, of them all, when the engineer’s voice was first heard. Their mate, Rocky, had been long thought dead or lost alongside the rest of them. While the inescapable grief of the loss of the crew was still weighing upon everyone, Adrian’s relieved trills were heard nonstop as the new task force worked tirelessly to safely bring the ship down into their atmosphere and retrieve what they could from within the vessel.
Their reunion had been a collision, heard echoing across the planet’s surface for miles as their carapaces crashed into each other. Adrian had fretted over the various new scars and marks on Rocky, the clear damage he had sustained, the odd way he now spoke - decades of isolation, followed by the slow mixing of languages and adjustments he had made to be better understood by his alien companion, had all taken a toll on his dialect - not to mention that Eridian language had naturally shifted over the years he was away, too.
As thrilled as Rocky was to be back with his mate - practically refusing to let go of the taller Eridian, tangling limbs together and trilling endlessly in a combination of words of affection or relief and wordless sounds that were echoed readily by their mate - there was a lingering worry, a stiffness to his posture that Adrian couldn’t miss. Rocky didn’t want to spend another moment away from Adrian’s side... but he also couldn’t bear to be away from his alien companion’s side for too long, either, worry etched across his posture in a way Adrian knew all too well.
Adrian, in Rocky’s absence, had begun taking up engineering as well, hoping to surprise their partner when he returned - though they never gave up their passion for architecture, either. Their focus had been in biological engineering, alongside biomedical sciences, hoping to further their understanding of life and health for all living beings on their planet, especially with the worry of the slowly cooling temperatures, should their sun continue to dim. They had also wanted to be sure they could ease Rocky back into his life on Erid the best they could - who knew what the prolonged effects of living in space would be, when he finally returned?
Now, thankfully, that specialty had paid off. When Rocky demanded, in no uncertain terms, that the Eridian scientists do everything in their power to not only keep the squishy alien alive, but to make sure he was comfortable and cared for to the highest degree - he saved our planet, he saved me, he is the bravest person I have ever met, we MUST repay him in kind! - Adrian knew without a moment’s hesitation that this was their time to put their newly-developed skills to good use. Not only would they nurse this alien back to health, they would create an entire controlled ecosystem for him, if they had to, with a breathable atmosphere and a comfortable temperature and all the finest sounds and textures that this alien could ask for.
As the team delved into the research into what this alien - a human1, as Rocky had termed it - needed, Rocky was there every step of the way. He had quickly explained the largest requirements: this creature needed oxygen to breathe (among other components), a far lower atmospheric pressure, and a frighteningly cold atmosphere compared to theirs. Anything else would quickly kill the surprisingly fragile creature. His current predicament, as Rocky had explained it, was a combination of starvation and malnutrition. He hadn’t had enough food to eat the ideal amount on the trip back to Erid, and had survived off of rationing his remaining supplies in combination with eating some of the taumoeba to survive at the bare minimum level just above fatal starvation. He had grown progressively weaker and sicker over the course of the journey - and was now restricted to his bed, under constant medical supervision - with several new, horrifying illnesses arising from the lack of properly balanced nutrition. One such was what Rocky had called scurvy2, which was a rather ghastly illness in which the body began slowly degrading several of its features as the necessary proteins and nutrients no longer were present to properly repair and maintain the body - including old scar tissues reopening into wounds, which had particularly horrified Rocky as this creature’s blood - and dear heavens, why was this creature’s blood so close to the surface? - poured out of a wound on its hand that looked suspiciously like the shape of Rocky’s claw.
The scientists politely decided to ignore that for the time being, especially considering Rocky’s increasingly distressed state.
Luckily, much to their relief, they had access to what Rocky had described as “all human knowledge stored on a portable thinking machine”. While navigating it was difficult, not the least of which due to the fact that humans apparently relied primarily on their sense that allowed them to perceive light - and dear stars above was that a stunning concept - which meant that most of their machines utilized light as their main form of display. While their cameras could pick up on a good amount of it, there was then the issue that everything was written in a human language none of them could read. Rocky could make out some portions of it, but even he wasn’t fluent in the human’s written language, and relied most times on the text-to-speech function, which he then translated to the surrounding team.
As Rocky translated parts of it - and as they relied on some of the translation software the human had used to understand Rocky to understand other parts - the rest of the task force was quickly picking up on some of the language, requiring Rocky to translate less and less. But it still wasn’t a common fluency by any means, and they didn’t have the time to simply learn the human’s language before they could begin working on solutions. He was already on death’s doorstep (a human idiom that Rocky had had to explain to them); they couldn’t afford to delay their efforts.
A bio-dome was already underway as they studied the human’s health needs, determined to nurse him back to health and beyond. He couldn’t live on that small ship forever, and Rocky was growing increasingly distressed and agitated the longer he had to spend away from his companion to research and translate in order to fix his health. In the meantime, however, all they could do was visit when the human was awake (which was getting rarer, and he was less aware each time) and continue researching and developing while he was asleep, or whenever they could manage to drag Rocky away from his human companion during the human’s waking hours.
They had already begun synthesizing some of the nutrients they had found in the human’s remaining food supply, but that still didn’t help them develop the nutrients that he was lacking. They had turned many times to the human’s thinking machine, searching databases of human biology and needs to get to the bottom of what he would need to survive, alternating between new information and developing solutions to incorporate each new aspect they learned of.
Currently, Adrian and Rocky - alongside a plethora of scientists from various fields - were gathered around the thinking machine, going through various pages on Wikipedia - a large database of human knowledge, with helpful links to further sources and related information - to determine the true extent of the health effects that starvation was causing for the human.
Related links sent them down a rabbit hole, exploring the various aspects of human biology, senses, needs, and abilities. No one was particularly paying attention to how they got here - all new information about the human’s needs was good and necessary, right? - but one particular link caught the attention of one of the junior scientists on the force.
“What is ‘touch starvation’, question?” Starspeck3 asked, after the computer had read out one of the lines on the current page.
Rocky wasn’t sure, but based on the phrasing, he was sure it wasn’t good. Another fundamental need Grace was lacking? Another way his body was slowly dying, slowly shutting down, with nothing Rocky could do to fix it? He almost didn’t want to know.
But no, more than that, he needed to know. Needed to know every possible thing that was or could go wrong, so that he could fix it. He would fix it. He would fix Grace. And Grace would smile again, and tell his stupid jokes, and clumsily trip over everything, and make stupid grumpy faces when he hadn’t slept in far too long. He would fix Grace, and Grace would never have to suffer like this again.
Rocky navigated on the computer to the link that had been displayed - a somewhat annoying feat considering the laptop had to be contained in its own portable Earth atmosphere bubble, to ensure it didn’t melt in Erid’s air, which then meant that they needed to manipulate small robotic arms from the other side of the bubble to interact with the computer. After a moment, the screen changed, and their tactile displays updated to match.
“Touch starvation, also known as touch deprivation or skin hunger, is the physiological need by humans and other species for physical contact with their own species or other living beings. Its prolonged absence can have traumatic impacts on an individual's emotional, physical, and/or mental well-being.” The device read out, and silence slowly fell on the room.
Grace, likely, would never touch another human again. The last contact he’d had with a member of his own species had been before he had met Rocky, and it was as he was sending his deceased crew members’ corpses out the airlock in approximation of a human funerary custom. Even if they managed to repair the Hail Mary, refuel it, and prepare enough food for Grace to make a return trip to Earth, it would be years before that was ready, if not longer. And that wasn’t even counting the travel time of the trip. Grace wasn’t going to be able to interact with another human for likely a decade, at the least - much less come into physical contact with them.
And other living beings weren’t in the question, either. All living beings on Erid were reliant on the same atmosphere that Eridians (and really, he needed to talk to Grace about finding a more specific word for them) were - the same atmosphere that would kill Grace.
He had Rocky, at least. He wasn’t entirely alone. Not anymore. But... they were always separated by a wall. A wall both of them could sense the other through easily, but not one they could have proper contact through.
Rocky had only ever truly touched Grace once.
He had never wanted to do it again, afterwards - had seen the burn left on his friend’s skin, would remember the sheer terror and agony of watching his friend slowly crumple and go unresponsive before him whenever he saw the scar. He could never understand why Grace seemed so happy with the scar, often idly tracing over it with his fingers as he worked, or staring at it during one of his long stretches of silence (or at least, as silent as a constantly noisy, leaky space blob could be). He had refused to let Rocky apologize for it, seeming proud even of the mark - calling it a battle scar, which Rocky could understand, he supposed. But there had always seemed like there was more to it, more to Grace’s fixation on this mark on his skin. Rocky had always worried that he secretly was upset, that he was just trying to spare Rocky’s feelings.
But now... Rocky thought he understood.
Because it was proof. As painful and horrible as it had been in the moment, it was proof, undeniable, unerasable proof that they had touched. That Rocky had saved him, yes, but more than that, that they had had contact. And now, permanently marked on his skin, was the imprint of his friend’s claws - a phantom hold, etched upon him.
A touch he would never have again.
Rocky let out a distressed trill, suddenly feeling a new wave of grief wash over him. He had known, when Grace had come back for him, that it had meant sacrificing so so so much. His planet. His home. His friends. Every small and big experience of his own planet, his own solar system, his own species. He would never see another human. He would never pet another dog. He would never walk along another Earth beach. He would never be able to see the newest Earth film that came out. He would never be able to smell another Earth treat baking in the oven. He would never be able to wear new clothes made by another human. He would never experience Earth music in-person again. In saving Rocky, he had given up everything.
But now, a new layer of that had unveiled itself, and Rocky felt sick. Grace would never truly not feel starved. Starved of touch, of contact, of proper physical affection in the way he didn’t just crave, he physiologically needed. Even if they made the perfect biodome, even if they synthesized the perfect combinations of nutrients that not only sustained Grace but somehow tasted delicious and just like Earth foods, even if they gave him simulated sunlight and breathable air and a comfortable home and showered him in gifts and love and praise, they would never be able to stop him from feeling fundamentally starved, at a skin-deep level.
Adrian was similarly awash with grief at the realization, but they forced themself to put on a brave face. Rocky had been through so much already, had suffered beyond their furthest imaginings, and now their mate was agonizing over keeping his companion alive and cared-for. The least they could do was be the shoulder for Rocky to lean on in these moments, even if they were just as horrified by the suffering the human was undergoing. Rocky knew Grace better than anyone here. If this grief was personally agonizing for anyone, it was Rocky.
Adrian trilled softly, attempting to comfort Rocky and express sympathy. They nudged him with one of their legs, trying to ease him out of his stiffened state, but Rocky didn’t budge.
“We’ll figure out a solution. I know we can find a way to fix this,” they cooed softly, a determination settling into their tones.
Rocky shook himself, trying to slowly redirect his attention to the present moment. If he was going to help Grace, he couldn’t shut down. Not when his friend needed him most. Not when his friend was currently dying on his own spaceship, wasting away while they wasted time mourning someone who was still alive.
Another scientist, one of Adrian’s close coworkers, Sherbert4, used the controls to navigate on the laptop, determined to learn more about this condition. However, with less experience with the human language, they didn’t quite manage to navigate to the treatment portion of the current webpage. Instead, they found their way to the section where it described what the experience was like, from the perspective of someone actually suffering from touch starvation.
“It’s like... this hole in your chest, this ache that’s not quite physical but it’s so strong that it might as well be. And then... when you first get touch again, especially when it’s fleeting, like a pat on the shoulder or someone bumping against you... it’s like your skin is on fire. It’s this burning sensation, just under the skin, that lingers where the touch was, eating you alive.” The testimony reads out, Grace’s translation software helpfully chirping away in Eridian (or rather, in Rocky’s voice, clips played together like a collage to form the sentences).
In that moment, Rocky began to understand Grace’s explanation of a human “feeling their heart drop”.
Fire underneath the skin.
Rocky knew that feeling all too well.
When he had broken through the xenonite wall, when he had burst into an atmosphere that was far far far too cold, yet simultaneously explosive, his entire body had burst into unimaginable pain. His internal organs, alight with heat and reacting with the oxygen in the air, hadn’t just steamed - they had caught fire. He had burned from the inside out, spewing soot all across the Hail Mary. He had choked on the smoke of his own body burning alive.
And Grace... Grace was experiencing that whenever he got a close approximation of the touch he couldn’t fully achieve.
Rocky thought back to the first time Grace had hugged him, how he had wanted Rocky close even if the ball meant they couldn’t truly interact in the way he seemed to want. How he had held on for far longer than Rocky knew what to do with, how he had lingered against the xenonite walls for what had seemed like an eternity in the moment. He thought about when the starvation had first started to slowly seep in, as Grace got more lethargic, his thoughts becoming hazier, his temperature dropping... and how he had seemed to cling to Rocky more and more. Sometimes he claimed it was for the heat, although only a minimal amount of it could be felt through the xenonite barrier, and sometimes he claimed that he was simply leaning on the wall or Rocky’s ball because he was tired and he was using it to support himself, but most times he didn’t even try to justify it.
Desperately savoring every scrap of contact he could get, the warmth and contact that he could grasp even if it was limited by the impenetrable xenonite barrier between them. Covering himself in blankets and clutching at them tightly, bunching them up to cradle them close to his chest. Rocky had thought it was just for the warmth, or perhaps for comfort - the plush materials were sure to be more pleasant to the squishy space blob than the harder surfaces around him were.
But now... now it became all too clear. That craving that the testimony explained, the hunger that the scraps of touch ignite... Grace must have been living in agony, on top of his body falling apart from every other ailment he was going through.
Rocky stormed out of the room.
Adrian was quick to follow, listening in acutely to every small detail - the way Rocky moved, the quiet mutterings Rocky did mostly to himself (a habit he had picked up in part from living alone for decades, and in part from Grace’s habit of doing the same), the tapping of his fingers as he calculated something in his head. He was agitated, that much was clear - but he was also deliberating on something, working up a solution in his mind as he scuttled towards the nearest workshop.
When Adrian caught up to him in the makeshift workspace they had hastily prepared for him upon Rocky’s return, Rocky was already gathering several different alloys of xenonite and snagging tools from along the station as he went. Adrian gently approached, careful not to get in his way, as they quietly watched him work.
“What are you thinking, question?” Adrian asked gently, one free claw idly tracing over their wedding banding on their frontmost leg, a mirror match of Rocky’s.
Rocky chirped unhappily, holding up a sculpting tool against the width of one leg, as though measuring his size against it.
“Rocky needs better suit to go in Grace atmosphere, statement. Must make.” He spoke in that stilted, minimal way he now did, ever since returning. Adrian knew that rearranging his grammatical structure to more easily translate into the human’s language had shaped the way he spoke on a habitual level, even when the human wasn’t around. It would be a charming quirk, if it wasn’t so heartbreaking in all of its implications.
Adrian trilled sadly, stepping closer.
“A better suit won’t allow you to touch him, love. You still can’t enter his atmosphere directly.” They reminded him gently, worry niggling at their mind as they recalled how Rocky had recounted doing so, just the once. They hoped beyond belief that he wasn’t reckless enough to try something like that again just to comfort Grace, much as they too wished they could interact with him directly.
Rocky shook their carapace, a side-to-side gesture that he had explained was a human’s gesture meaning disagreement or denial - though the Eridian equivalent wasn’t too far off, they supposed.
“No need to. Human EVA suit is similar, Rocky model after. Closer to form, allow more direct touch. Not same, but close.” He spoke, already beginning to create panels of the transparent xenonite that most of his atmosphere walls were made of - Grace had chosen it on their first meeting, Rocky had explained, so now all barriers that he crafted were made of that alloy. It wasn’t even a conscious decision for him anymore, it had become habitual.
Adrian hummed, taking stock of the workshop. Many things were in disarray, tools left out of place, half-finished projects strewn about haphazardly. It was a product of the chaotic rush to secure safe arrangements for Grace as soon as possible - although Rocky had never been the particularly neatest engineer, even before all of this. Adrian chuckled to themself at the memory. Rocky perked up, pausing for a brief moment in what he was doing to focus all of his attention on his partner.
“What is funny, question?” He asked, that adorable puzzlement in his voice. Stars, when was the last time Adrian had heard his voice so free of worry? Too long, they knew.
“I’ve missed you,” they trilled gently, finally stepping into Rocky’s space, letting their carapace gently bump against his.
Rocky trilled happily, bumping back in return.
“Missed you too. Missed you much much much.”
“I know you are worried about him. But let’s focus on keeping him alive first, okay? He needs you, now more than ever. Comfort can wait, as much as we don’t want it to, statement.” Adrian murmured gently, raising one claw to gently urge Rocky to put down the tools.
Rocky turned, allowing a different facet to face towards his mate. “Grace give up everything for Rocky. Grace deserve everything in return.” He insisted, even as he allowed his hands to lower from his workstation.
“I know, love. I know. He brought you back to me,” Adrian hummed, taking one of Rocky’s hands into their own. “And we’ll give it to him, in due time. For now... we’ll work on solving the food-starvation, first.”
Adrian gently tugged Rocky out of the workspace, urging him to return to where the rest of the scientists were still gathered.
“And, perhaps... we can ask Amethyst5 to create a plush for him to hold, to simulate touch in the meantime?” Adrian suggested, causing Rocky to perk up, straightening his limbs to stand taller. “You could show her that model earth plush that Grace gifted you, and she could synthesize a similar material to make it familiar to him.”
Rocky raised a claw, tucking in two fingers and angling the third one down - a human sign of approval, he had taught them. “Yes, good good good. Grace get soft thing to hold now, and Rocky to hold once food is fixed.”
“And Adrian to hold, too. You’ll have to make me one of those suits so I can properly show my thanks to your companion,” They murmured, earning a chirp from Rocky.
“Adrian hug Grace too, question? Adrian want to be Grace friend too, question?” He chirped, a mix between surprised and delighted. Adrian only laughed.
“Yes, of course I want to be friends with the alien who saved you and all of Erid. He may be a leaky space blob, but if he’s anything like you’ve told me, he’s also someone I simply must get to know,” Adrian declared proudly.
Rocky laughed - and that was another sound that Adrian hadn’t heard in far far far too long.
But, hopefully, it was one that they would hear many many many more times.