Chapter Text
"This Romeo is bleeding/ But you can't see his blood/ It's nothing but some feelings/ That this old dog kicked up"
Grace had never seen Rocky as happy as when he talked about his mate. It was always Adrian this, Adrian that, Adrian would like that, Rocky miss Adrian, and so on and so forth. It was heartwarming for Grace, to see his friend had someone to dedicate their life to, but admittedly, it got old after a while. After all, you can only hear the same story so many times while confined in a small space in literal space with the same person (spider-crab-alien-thing?) before you feel like strangling them. Unluckily for Grace, this would be his life for... a while, to say the least.
On the off-chance that Rocky would stop his endless retelling of the same 13 stories, he often asked (a better term would be pried) about Grace's life. This was how a great deal of Rocky's "Solean terms" --a name that he dubbed for specific Earth things not having to do with science, or concepts Eridians weren't familiar with-- were learned. He heard Grace's fond recounts of his teaching days as well as a great deal about his students and how life was in San Francisco. However, he heard mostly about the Petrova Taskforce and about life aboard Stratt's Vat (bad apparently), and most importantly (at least to Rocky), who Stratt was.
In fact, as Rocky noticed, Grace talked about Stratt in the same manner as he talked about Adrian, so he pried further.
"Grace have mate, question?" Asked Rocky one day, out of the blue. Well, not really out of the blue, since he'd been blabbering on about something Adrian once said for nearly an hour as they processed a sample of Taumeoba, but to Grace, the question had come straight out of left field.
"Well," he began, putting down the xenonite sample container he'd been working with, "I had a girlfriend some years ago, way back when in college, um, Linda- was her name..." He trailed off.
"What happened to Grace mate, question? Waiting for Grace return like Adrian wait for Rocky, question?" That struck a nerve for Grace, well multiple, considering that they were discussing his ex-girfriend, Grace was going to die, and he still had yet to tell Rocky about it. He laid his hands flat on the lab table, letting his hands support his mass and let out a flat sigh.
"Well uhh, she's not my mate anymore bud, we broke up shortly after college because well, we had our differences and went our separate ways in life. I guess she just got fed up with all my crazy theories and research, and um, I guess she figured that I couldn't give her the life she wanted, which she was right about..." He trailed off, staring out the window at nothingness. "and now she's with Mark." He finished curtly, picking back up the container that he'd been fiddling with before.
"Rocky hate Mark." Rocky replied confidently, eliciting a laugh from Grace from the absurdity.
"You do that bud," Grace chuckled, returning to his work.
After a few minutes of silence, during which Rocky "carefully" thought of a way to continue the conversation, and Grace pretended to be ok, Rocky broke the silence.
“Grace have other mate, question? After Linda, question?”
“Why are you so persistent with this? You know, on Earth, we call this an awkward conversation.”
”Rocky no know what word mean, so Rocky ignore. Grace also ignore Rocky question.”
Grace pressed his lips in a flat line, though he was secretly amused inside. Where was he going with this?
Even though Rocky had nothing resemblant of facial features, nor any hint of emotion in his voice, Grace could sense him narrowing his eyes at him internally.
"Stratt is Grace mate, question?" Rocky asked suddenly, "Stratt waiting for Grace back on Earth, question?"
Grace stiffened, he dropped the xenonite he'd been holding, and his eyebrows shot up so fast they nearly left his face. At this moment, he was praying to God that he could start foaming at the mouth and collapse to distract from this.
Forget left field, this had come straight out of space, travelling at the speed of light.
Play it cool, play it cool, he thought. He did not play it cool.
He starting laughing nervously, then diverted to Plan B when he realized he couldn't awkward his way out of this and didn't have a hole to crawl into and die in.
"Wh- what makes you ask buddy?" He stammered.
"Rocky notice Grace talk much about Stratt like Rocky talk about Adrian."
Oh good God, thought Ryland. Once again, his big, stupid mouth had gotten him into trouble. His big, stupid mouth had also once gotten him into a lot of trouble with Stratt. Well many times. Don't think about her don't think about her!
"Well," he started hesitantly, "it's kinda hard not to talk about someone who shot you into space without your consent." He prayed that Rocky wouldn't ask what consent was, because though it would steer nicely away from the current topic, it would open a whole nother can of worms full of questions Grace was not ready to answer yet, if ever.
Rocky wasn't sure what that last word meant, and for once, he decided not to ask.
"Anyways," Grace continued, "Stratt was definitely not my mate, in fact, I'm not even sure if we were really friends. I dunno how she felt about it. Honestly, sometimes it felt that I was more of an expendable tool to her than anything." He chuckled softly at that last part, though he wasn't sure why.
Rocky didn't know what expendable meant, but he figured it probably wasn't important.
"Grace good tool, helpful helpful!" He chirped, clicking his fingers (pincers?) and rolling around excitedly.
"Mhm... veerrryy helpful," Grace mumbled, staring out the window. His reflection, wrapped in the abyss of space stared solemnly back.
Rocky had gotten nothing out of Grace's response, but figured since that was the case, he would get out nothing more, so he dropped it, for now.
Only as Rocky slept later that day? night? did Grace allow his mind to wander and his emotions to escape. He thought back some years ago to what had been. To what hadn't been. They had been friends. Briefly. He looked out the window once again.
He got up briefly, abandoning Rocky to go look in a real mirror for a moment. He touched his mostly wrinkle-less face and his still-blond hair and wondered if time had been as kind to her as it had to him. He was too lazy to do the math of the time dilation, but even without it, he knew it hadn't.
He sat back down cross-legged softly next to Rocky's ball, and leaned his head against the it, pressing his face gently to the glass that radiated a comforting heat. He stayed like that for a while, staring out into space, remembering what could've been.
He hoped, some millions of miles away and years ago, that Eva Stratt had accepted what had been, maybe even embraced it if he was lucky.
Millions of miles away, Eva Stratt stared up at the same dark sky that haunted her as well and dreamed of the life that could've been.