Chapter Text
The capsule sitting upon his desk seems to be staring at Grace from across the room. No matter what, his eyes wander over to it's metal body.
It was a single night ago that Rocky skittered up the path to his house, Adrian in tow, sing-songing his name. The capsule was dropped in front of him, dripping wet and half covered in sand. Rocky explains that it washed up on the shore that morning, seemingly having dropped out of the sky, presumably from space.
Grace has been trying to completely ignore it, not yet ready to open it quite yet. It hasn't even been a year since he and Rocky arrived at Erid, and he's not eager to have another adventure.
"Grace! Grace! Grace!" Rocky barrels into the room, almost bowling over a table on the way. "Oh, you have not opened it yet?"
He sighs. "No, I haven't. I'm just not quite sure if I want to know what's inside yet, you know?"
"I do not." Rocky tells him. "Open it or I will."
"Okay, fine, you win." Grace pushes himself up from his seat, walking reluctantly to his desk.
While he inspects it, trying to see any gaps or handles to open it, Rocky jumps up onto his spot beside him, watching excitedly. "Seems human to Rocky."
"It does, doesn't it?" he runs his finger along the metal, fingernail catching on the ridge where it's welded together. "Think we're gonna have to crack it open by it's seams, Rocky."
They make an excited noise, grabbing a hammer off his desk in their little rock hands. "Open it! See what humans sent us!"
Grace carefully puts a wedge between one of it's gaps, then hits it with the hammer. After one more hit, the capsule breaks open. Inside is a device of some kind. A tablet, almost, with a microphone and antenna.
"Definitely human." he agrees. A pit settles into his stomach. Something isn't right. He finds a button on the side and presses it. With a whir, the tablet lights up, and Stratt's familiar face fills the screen.
"Hello, Doctor Grace." always professional, her voice greets his ear. Though greeting's are supposed to be pleasant, and this is everything but. "I am deeply sorry to bother you again, after everything you have done for us. But my wife, Ava, needs your help in designing and engineering a submarine to explore a new planet."
"But I'm not an engineer…" he whispers, as if she can hear him.
"We would also like your alien friend to assist us as well. I believe you called him Rocky." she says. He doesn't like how she seemed to have just read his mind, from several light years away. "We need a submarine that can withstand new depths, and extra weight. The planet I speak of is called AT-5, also known as the 'Blood Ocean' planet. We seek to explore it's blood ocean."
Grace's brows furrow, and Rocky goes still and silent next to him.
"Rocky has bad feeling."
"Can't say I blame you, bud." he agrees quietly.
Stratt continues. "In this device, you are able to record a video of your answer, and we will receive it shortly afterward. I do hope you and your friend agree to join us." the video ends.
"I do not agree to joining them." Rocky says firmly.
"Well, think about it." Grace hangs his glasses from his ear, running a hand through his hair. "Even if she sent me to die, she still did it so the universe would survive. Maybe this is another thing like that."
"Rest of humans can deal with it on their own."
"Come on Rocky, it's just making the submarine. She never said we had to go in…" his voice fades off, flashes of memories dancing in his head. That's exactly what she did last time. Just experiment with the Astrophage, figure out how it works, and then suddenly he was the engineer on the space ship itself. "You're right to be cautious. We don't know if she's telling the truth."
"Rocky is correct." they stand proudly, and Grace can hear the alien-pride in their song-like voice.
"Maybe… We should give it some thought." he decides finally. He's afraid, but he also feels like this could be important. Incredibly important, too important to simply wave off without giving it proper thought. "Sleep on it. See what Adrian thinks."
"Watch you sleep on it." Rocky agrees, and he shakes his head, chuckling.
"Yeah, alright. I'll watch you sleep on it too."
==========
"Rocky is still unsure about this." Rocky tells him, as they wander the beach.
"I do not want Rocky gone again." Adrian agrees. "But I do believe it may be a good idea to go, as long as Stratt keeps to her word."
"There's also the problem of going to another planet for this." Grace adds, pulling his knitted sweater tighter around himself. He's not exactly keen on spending another handful of light years on a space ship so shortly after his first trip. "We'd have to find a way to make more Astrophage or a new kind of fuel entirely."
"That would not be an issue." says Adrian. "We have many kinds of fuel that would be ideal. We would just have to build a new ship."
"How long would that take?"
"Depends on how many Eridian's we could get on board with the idea. With the whole engineering team, it would be two months maximum."
"That's not bad." he considers. "According to the directions Stratt left us, AT-5 is about three years away if we go at the same speed the Hail Mary went, so around the speed of sound."
Rocky adds, "And if we reuse parts of the Hail Mary, we may be able to cut the time down to a month and a half of work."
"So does that mean you're agreeing to work with Stratt?" Grace asks, which gets an odd noise from Rocky.
"Rocky supposes so. Though Rocky is allowed to back out at any time."
"Fair enough."
==========
The ship is ready way too quickly. Grace doesn't feel quite ready for a new adventure, but he tries to calm his nerves. They have more than enough fuel, more than enough food and water, and a ship built from Erid's toughest materials. But that's not the thing he's truly worried about.
What if Stratt betrays him again? What if she takes advantage of Rocky's engineering? What if they end up thousands of miles deep in this blood ocean she speaks of? What if someone dies? What if everything goes wrong again?
All these questions bouncing around in his skull and no way to answer them until they're on AT-5. Adrian and Grace's class of young Eridians bid them farewell as the door to the ship closes behind them.
No turning back now.
==========
The trip to AT-5 is uneventful and boring. The two try to busy themself with games they brought along, story telling, brain storming ideas for the submarine. It's difficult to do so, without knowing all the details and just how deep this blood ocean is.
The only truly interesting part is that the closer they get to AT-5, the more the stars disappear. It's both fascinating and terrifying, seeing exactly what Grace's world would look like if they hadn't found a way to beat the Astrophage.
When they finally land on the foreign planet, a woman with silver scarring splintering across the left side of her face and a milky white eye greets them. She introduces herself as Ava Stratt, Captain of the Consolidation of Iron.
She explains their mission of exploring the seemingly bottomless blood ocean of AT-5 while showing them to the engineering room and introducing them to the rest of the team. Then, she begins to tell them the plans for the submarine they need built. It must be able to withstand at least sixteen thousand PSI, and will need to hold a days worth of oxygen.
It all seems simple enough. A small, one person submarine with a radiation camera to see your surroundings through the blood and a speaker to communicate to Eva during the dives, along with depth and oxygen sensors.
The actually difficult part is how to make it withstand the depths of the blood ocean. No one knows how deep it truly is, and without knowing that, it's not going to be easy to build it how it needs to be built.
"What do we think Rocky?" Grace asks, leaning back in his chair and tapping his lip with his pen. "The deepest part of the ocean on Earth is almost eleven thousand meters deep. Do we go with how much pressure that would be, or do we go with more pressure?"
Rocky makes a humming noise. "More. Just in case."
"Better to be safe than sorry." he agrees. "How about we build it for thirteen thousand meters?"
"Sound good."
After several weeks worth of calculating and testing, the design process starts. Ava insisted on it only being a single room, for whatever reason, and the two could do nothing to change her mind or plans, so they agreed. A hundred designs she scrapped later, they come to a consensus.
A long, tube-like body with two cylinders at the bottom so it can stand properly. A circular glass window is placed at the front, it's camera on the other end. Lastly, a dome of metal, almost a cage, is put on the end with the window to protect it.
The engineers begin their work quickly. Rocky works with them to make sure everything was welded and put together correctly, which causes a small stir up between the engineers about working with an alien. Grace spends most of the time surveying them, making small adjustments, and studying the levels of oxygen in the blood that makes it up the planet's oceans.
"Soooo…" Grace finds himself sitting next to Ava as they watch the engineers build. "What's the plan for the crew?"
"That part is confidential." she tells him plainly.
He feels a pit grow in his stomach. "Really? Didn't think it would be." he taps his fingers on his coffee cup awkwardly. "You gotta have a pilot, a scientist for gathering the samples, maybe an engineer to fix anything…"
"We will be bringing the submarine up for routine checks and repairs."
"So maybe not an engineer then." he feels his lips purse. "It's an awfully small sub for even two people, don't you think? Doesn't even have beds. Or a bathroom. We didn't plan for a bathroom. You really don't want a bathroom in there?"
"Doctor Grace, I am going to have to ask you to shut your mouth." her voice shows no anger, just calm, cool calculation.
Wow, Ava and Stratt are really a match made in heaven — or hell.
==========
Both Grace and Rocky have discussed their unsure feelings and suspicion about the C.O.I.'s plans. They're been anything but transparent, always hiding behind thing's being "confidential," which is just a fancy way of saying none of your business. And the engineers they're working with have just shrugged and said "you think they tell us?" whenever Grace asks them if they know anything about the crew.
After the submarine is finally fully built and fully prepared, Grace and Rocky are pretty much completely dismissed. But not completely, as they are told to stay on base and not leave the planet quite yet. Nothing seems out of the ordinary in their set up.
That was, until Rocky saw something he shouldn't have.
They come barrelling into the lab, knocking over countless things in their wake. "Grace! Grace! Something wrong!"
The sudden chaos startles Grace, as he shoots to his feet in a panic. "What? What's going on?"
"They're welding them inside!"
"That doesn't answer my question?"
"Ava welded someone inside! Inside the sub! Can't leave!" Rocky attempts to explain, gesturing wildly. "Called him convict!"
Grace's entire body goes cold. "They… welded a convict inside the SM-13? But…"
"Yes, yes!" they confirms. "We must help!"
"Have they started the dive yet?" he asks frantically.
Rocky stills. "…Yes." they say sadly.
"Oh no…" he sinks back into his chair, burying his face in his hands.
"Human may die, Rocky can fix." they begin pacing back and forth in the lab. "Rocky fix."
"Rocky, I-I don't know if we can fix this."
"Rocky. Grace. Fix."
He shakes his head slowly. "If you really want to fix it, then figure out what to do."
Rocky hums thoughtfully. Silence settles heavily between them. "Everyone sleeps at night. Guards outside, only two. Rocky distract, Grace go. Grace pull submarine up, get convict out. Grace and convict run to ship, Rocky meet them."
"Rocky, bud… I can't do that."
"Grace can."
"No, I really can't. I'm not some hero in a movie." he raises his head from his hands, peering tiredly at the Eridian.
"Rocky does not know what movie is." they say plainly.
He sighs. "There's only one days worth of oxygen on that sub. They welded the convict in, so they obviously don't expect them to survive… Or want them to. We'd have to do it tonight."
"Then we do it tonight."
"You're really not letting this go, huh." Grace can't particularly blame them.
==========
Come night, Rocky seems to have come up with a fully formulated plan. They have to act fast, they stress often, or else the convict may die. Grace still isn't completely on board with this plan, but he forces himself through it. Rocky seems very convinced that this convict is a good person, and won't change their mind on that fact.
They make their move at an hour to midnight. Rocky batters down the hallway towards the guards, sing-songing nonsense and gesturing frantically, causing quite the stir.
Meanwhile, Grace slips through the doors into the dive room. Massive equipment scatters the room, so many buttons and levers and switches that it rivals the Hail Mary's cockpit. Directly in the middle is a large squared off area that drops into the blood ocean below, surrounded by rusty fencing.
It's a struggle to find the correct machine that's connected to the speaker in the SM-13. Machine after machine with five billion buttons per machine, each with a purpose that Grace isn't aware quite what they do.
He finds one with a microphone, that he assumes connects to the submarine. He presses the closest button to the mic, and speaks into it. He gets no response, so he presses the button right below the microphone. "Hello? Hello, can you hear me?"
"Hello?" a mans voice comes through. Staticky and so, so shaken. Beyond scared. "Is there someone there?"
"My name is Doctor Grace. Or Ryland Grace. Doesn't matter." he's ranting and talking too much, and he's trying to save someone from dying a slow and painful death. "We're getting you out of there."
"But I'm not done- Wait, who is we?"
"I'll explain when you're up here." Grace finds a lever connected to a massive chain, disappearing in the bloody ocean. He pulls it, and with a lurch, begins to pull the chain in. "We don't have long to do this. Are you hurt?"
"I-I don't know. Maybe?"
"It's alright, we can check you over when you're out of there." the chain isn't moving fast enough for him. He's not even sure how deep and far the submarine even is in the ocean, how long it'll take to bring the submarine up. "If we can do anything about it, you're going to be just fine."
His luck runs out pretty quickly.
The chains screech together at an ear piercing volume, shrill and squeaky. Rocky's warbling goes silent, and the whole world seems to go silent and still for a split second before the doors to the dive room slam open and the guards swarm inside.
Then the shouting starts. The guards shout at him, at each other, at the guards and workers running in from the dorms. Ava is the only one allowed into the circle of guards keeping everyone back, and she looks at Grace in somehow professional disgust.
"Doctor Grace." she folds her arms across her chest, brows drawn tight.
He can only meet her intense gaze for a few seconds, before he looks towards where Rocky's wailing is coming from. The guards are trying their best to restrain them, though obviously unsure how to restrain an alien.
"What you have done is considered a crime, you do realize that." it doesn't sound like a question in her tone. "You could be charged, arrested, be given jail time even."
He can't make his voice work at first. "What-what you're doing is wrong." he finally stutters out.
"And how do you know that." she sounds way too calm. "Yes, we sent a convict into the blood ocean. But how do you know that convict didn't deserve to die."
He doesn't have a true answer for that. He knows nothing about the convict, but there's a part of him that knows whoever this convict is, they don't deserve it. It's fairy tale, kids book stuff, but if there's anything he's learned in his time in dangerous space situations, it's to listen to your gut. And his gut says they need to get this convict out of that submarine.
"We are going to have to fire you from this job and ask you to leave the base, preferably the planet as a whole." something about the way she looks at him tells him she's not actually asking.
And just like that, him and Rocky are escorted out by a very large group of guards. The silence is heavy, regret mingling with it. They're brought to their ship, and told firmly to stay away, or they'll press charges.
"We can not just leave the convict."
Rocky's song-like voice pierces the quiet between them as they sit in the lab, each of them reflecting on the events that unfolded less than two hours ago.
"I know, bud." Grace agrees, rubbing his hands across his face. "But we can't just break in and try again, it won't go any better this time. Most likely worse."
"Rocky build submarine, Rocky and Grace find convict."
He shakes his head slowly. "We don't have time for that. There's less than a quarter of a day's worth of oxygen left in the submarine, the convict won't live long enough for us to do much of anything."
Rocky rumbles anxiously, beginning to pace. "Rocky can't fix, question?"
"I-I'm not saying that, but…" his voice fades, and he fidgets with his glasses. "I am saying that you shouldn't expect this convict to survive. There are a lot of things that could go wrong."
They sink down to the ground, folding their leg beneath them like a loafing cat. Silence settles around them again, heavier this time. If Rocky had eyes, they'd definitely be leaking just like him.
==========
Almost a full day passes. Grace is wandering the beach of the blood ocean, sand dyed red beneath his feet. The entire planet makes him feel a little nauseous, the smell of iron filling his nostrils and his shoes sticking to the bloody sand.
Something catches his eyes a handful of meters down the shore. A shiny black box, nestled in the sand. How curious, he thinks, as he picks it up in his arms. It's about the size of a shoe box, and has some solid weight to it.
He decides to walk a little farther before bringing the box to Rocky. Despite the mildly sickening smell of blood, he enjoys the odd view of a vast red ocean, if he ignores the fact it's all seemingly fresh blood.
"What… is that?" he whispers to himself, seeing another black thing floating about fifteen to twenty meters out.
His heart drops.
It's hair. Dark, tangled hair, slick with blood. When he looks closer, he can see gray fabric, various shades, and what seems to be a hand.
He barely thinks when he quickly wades into the ocean, hot and sticky, beginning to swim in the direction of the person. Praying they're somehow alive, he grabs onto what he guesses is their sleeve, pulling them along while he paddles back to shore.
"ROCKY!" his voice cracks, straining with the volume he's shouting at. "ROCKY, I NEED HELP OUT HERE!"
The Eridian comes bolting from the ship as he drags the figure to shore. Several problems are immediately noticeable. They're not visibly breathing, sharp pieces of bone jut from their cheek almost like teeth in the mess of tissue that is the left side of their face, and their left arm has been torn off just below the shoulder joint. It's not a clean break, all mangled flesh and exposed, jagged bone.
Nothing is good about this.
"Convict, convict!" Rocky cries, skidding to a halt beside the injured person. "Convict has been found!"
"Rocky, I don't give two darns who this guy is, just help me bring him inside."
Luckily, the Eridians managed to put Armando into their new ship. They half carry, half drag the convict onto the medical cot, and Armando sets to work. Grace busies himself with wiping the blood from any of his exposed skin, which only reveals more and more injuries. Cuts that expose pale tissue beneath or bubbly orange-ish fat even farther beneath that. Blue and green and yellow bruises spreading on skin in a way that reminds Grace of a gross kind of tie-dye.
"Rocky does not detect heartbeat from convict." Rocky's voice lacks over half of its usual sing-song tune.
"Crap." Grace practically shoves Armando away, immediately begins chest compressions.
Armando catches on, and begins to pump air into the convicts lungs. It takes over a minute of compressions before he begins to cough. Blood comes up with it, red splattering his lips and the white cot beneath him.
"Rocky senses heartbeat! Convict has heartbeat!" Rocky cheers, jumping up and down.
With a sigh, Grace backs away, letting Armando take over again. The medical robot works quickly, focusing first on the missing limb. A little over half an hour passes, before Rocky begins to pester Grace about beginning the trip back to Erid now that they had found the convict.
With a final glance over his shoulder at him, and a lingering look on the black box sitting nearby, he makes his way to the cockpit.
==========
After sleeping exactly eight hours to satisfy Rocky, Grace returns to the med bay. The convict is sleeping soundly on the cot, his arm bandaged. Armando seems to have changed him into some of Grace's clothes that he doesn't wear much, his "I had potential" shirt and a pair of sweatpants.
Without all the blood, Grace can get a better look at him. Dark brown hair to his shoulders, strong build, various scars scattered between the fresh cuts and bruises. The more noticeable parts, however, are the burn-like marks on the left side of his face, red and raw and angry, the thin, sharp teeth jutting from his cheek, and the gills on the same side of his neck, opening and closing gently with his breaths.
"Armando, any idea what could've happened?" he asks, pulling up a chair to beside the cot.
"Ribs were fractured during CPR." the medical robot tells him, but gives no more explanations.
He exhales slowly. Seems like no one has a clue what could've happened in that submarine that would result in such serious — and frankly odd — injuries.
"Can you give me the list of injuries?"
"In order of least to greatest; bruising, scratches, cuts, missing skin from left side of face and neck, bones protruding from cheek, dehydration, starvation, fractured ribs, blood in lungs, arm missing, CO2 poisoning, radiation poisoning." Armando pauses. "I have rehydrate him, removed the blood from his lungs, given him a blood transfusion, and sown up any wounds requiring stitches. He is stable."
Grace nods slowly. "How long until he wakes up, do you think?"
"I have put him in an induced coma until his body is ready to function on it's own again. Currently, I am still helping him breathe and the pain is be too great to allow comfort while conscious, even with pain medications. It could take from a few days to several weeks."
"Thank you, Armando."
==========
"GRACE! GRACE, CONVICT AWAKE!" Rocky barrels into the cockpit, thudding into the pilot's chair in their haste.
It's been just less than a week since Grace first spoke to Armando about the convict's status. Slowly but steadily, the cuts have beginning to scab and the bruises have begun to fade. Armando has wrapped the side of his face with gauze, changing the bandages daily or whenever the blood began to seep through.
"GRACE FOLLOW, GRACE COME SEE CONVICT. CONVICT AWAKE."
"I'm coming, I'm coming!"
Together, they race down the halls of the ship towards the med bay. The convict is attempting to get off the cot, but he's too week to even sit up properly.
"Please remain on the medical cot." Armando repeats unhelpfully.
"Hey, hey, hey, it's alright." Grace attempts to soothe the convict, who stares at him in a mix of terror and weak aggression. "My name is Ryland Grace. Everyone just calls me Grace, though. You're on our spaceship."
"Grace save convict, statement." Rocky adds. Their presence only seems to make him more distressed.
"And this is Rocky. They're an Eridian." he hopes the explanation will help him calm down, but to no avail. The convict shoves himself to the opposite side of the cot to try and put more space between him and Rocky. He only manages a few inches, though. "Rocky, would you mind giving us some time alone? This would be a lot for anyone."
They hum and reluctantly make their way out of the room. Despite the knowledge of Rocky listening in from outside the med bay, Grace takes the chair beside the cot.
"Do you remember anything that happened?"he asks, trying to keep his voice quiet as to not scare him.
The convict's single uncovered eye widens, a haunted look coming over his face. His hand goes to the dressings on his cheek, feeling the teeth under the gauze pads, then his stub of an arm wrapped in bandages. He begins to breathe heavily, gills fluttering unevenly. The blood drains from his face.
"Hey, it's okay, we don't have to talk about it." he reaches out to pat his leg, but immediately freezes at the full body flinch he gets. "I'm not gonna hurt you."
His gaze lands on the window, looking out at the clusters of stars around them. Blinking between the occasional planet in the distance, some burning brighter than others. It's an immediate reaction.
He relaxes back against his pillows, eye wide in unsure wonder instead of desperate fear. The stars twinkle in his dark iris, wetness pooling at his waterline.
"You like the stars?" Grace asks softly, not wanting to break the moment. "You didn't have those on AT-5, didn't you? The sky was always just darkness."
The convicts head gives the slightest hint at a nod, his eyes staying transfixed on the speckles outside the window. His fingers twitch, like he wants to reach out and grab them in his palm.
"What's your name?"
He tears his eyes away from the stars, lips parting briefly before closing again. No noise comes out.
"I have a white board somewhere around here. Do you know how to write?" it feels like an insensitive question, demeaning, and he half expects the convict to yell at him for it. Instead, he gets another tiny nod.
Grace searches the room for the white board, finding it rather quickly. The harder part is finding a working pen. Once both are recovered, he hands them to the convict.
After a few seconds of hesitation, he scrawls out, 'Simon.'
==========
While Simon regains his strength, he spends most of his time staring out of that window. Armando removes the stitches from the scabbed cuts, along with part of the bandages on his face, revealing his second eye. It's gone milky white, surrounded by partially healed red tissue. His cheek stays covered by a gauze pad.
When he finally manages to begin walking again, using the walls to support himself, he switches to spending time in the room they keep all their little herb plants, staring at the leafy shoots or out the window of that room.
He still doesn't speak. Despite him using the white board to communicate the things he deems important, Grace sometimes wonders if he even wants to talk. He knows he can, having heard him speak from the submarine when they tried to save him for the first time.
Simon happens upon the black box one day, eyes widening. Grace is just in the other room, studying the vials of blood he had taken from AT-5. He takes it to him, grasping the handle with his one remaining hand.
'Ava needs this.' he writes on the white board, making Grace quirk a brow. 'Send back to AT-5.'
"What's in it?" he asks, taking it from him and placing it on the desk in front of him. It's all sleek black metal, nothing giving away what exactly it is.
'Info on what's in the blood ocean.'
"What's in it?" it doesn't sound good. He had assumed there was just blood, blood and more blood. "Rocky and I can build something to send it back in, if you want."
He nods. 'Please do.'
Rocky and Grace begin to build a replica of what they used to send the video logs to Earth, making it slightly bigger to house the box. Grace turns off the route to Erid, letting the ship float around for the purpose of not moving farther away from AT-5.
It takes about a week, and soon enough, the black box is on it's way back to the Blood Ocean planet and the group of three continue their journey to Erid.
==========
"Simon?" Grace pokes his head into the plant room, searching the dark room for the brunette. He's checked all around the ship, including the plant room, and found nothing. He figured he'd check again, as it's the place Simon's spent most of his time in for the last few weeks.
The only light comes from the grow lights surrounding the small pots of herbs, casting the room in a dull, sunny glow. He hovers in the doorway, doing a quick sweep of the room with his eyes. Eventually, his gaze catches on a hulking shape in the dark.
"You really like these plants, huh?" he murmurs, sitting beside the shape, that is now more obviously Simon.
He's got a blanket around his shoulders like a cloak, sitting with his knees up to his chest on the tiled floor. His hair hangs in curtains, a few strands falling into his face. Armando had removed the gauze on his cheek the day before, revealing the teeth protruding from his ruined skin and the dark pink scarring up the left side of his face. He peers at Grace overtop the blanket, where his chin is tucked into the folds.
"You know, we could probably move the plants into the living quarters. There's no certain good spot on the ship for them, since we just use sun lamps." he meets his gaze, and gives him a small smile that he's not sure if he can see in the dark. "Would you like that?"
Simon nods slightly. They fall into comfortable silence, Simon watching the stars out the window and Grace gazing at the plants on their shelf.
A weight sits itself on Grace's shoulder, and the warmth of another body beside him gets warmer and closer. He stiffens slightly, glancing over at Simon. He's shifted closer and leaned his head on his shoulder, quietly fiddling with the blanket around him.
"You… tried to save me." Simon says, voice next to inaudible, crackly from under use. "In the sub. You tried to pull me up."
It takes a few seconds for Grace to answer. "Yeah. That was me. Rocky and I designed and built the submarine. We didn't know what it would be used for, Ava wouldn't tell us. We thought it would be a team in there, a small one, but a team. At least someone who volunteered and was trained." he chews his lip. "What I mean is I'm sorry. I'm sorry we couldn't save you the first time."
Simon hums, a rough sound deep in his throat. "Thank you. For everything."
==========
"No, no, no…"
Simon's voice stirs Grace from his sleep. It's the same tone he heard from the SM-13, desperate and full of terror.
"I just want to live…" he can barely make out his voice, muffled by the wall between them. "Please…"
Grace takes a deep breath in, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Everything is blurry, and he pats around his pod for his glasses, only to find nothing. "Simon?" he calls softly.
He gets a quiet groan from the other man above him, and the sound of blankets rustling. "No… Please, just let me live…"
Sitting up carefully, Grace crawls his way out of his bed, standing up so he can peer into the sleeping pod above his. "Simon?" he repeats. He can't see Simon properly, just a dark, blurry lump. There's another low whine in response.
Taking a deep breath, he pulls himself up into Simon's pod, awkwardly straddling his legs to gently shake his shoulder. "Simon, come on, wake up." he whispers.
"Don't-don't hurt me…" he can't make out his expression without his glasses, but his voice gives him enough of a clue on how terrified he is. "Please, Ava…"
"Simon. Wake up, it's just a nightmare." he gives his shoulder another shake.
He sees the movement of Simon's eyes snapping open, before he's flipped over faster than he himself could blink. He's pressed onto his back, one big hand held to his ribs hard enough to bruise. He can hear Simon's heavy breath, feeling the warmth of each exhale blossom across his face.
His heart beats hard, widening his eyes like it'll help him see Simon properly. "Simon, it's just me. It's just me, Grace."
Simon's grip on him slackens, and his breathing completely stops for a few beats. Then, he exhales shakily, before completely collapsing beside Grace.
The pod doesn't allow much space between them, Simon's shivering body pressed to his own. He can feel every shuddering breath, every hiccup, every movement.
"Hey…" Grace moves his hand from where it rests on the mattress, up to Simon's cheek. His fingers ghost over the teeth sticking from his flesh. The only reason he knows he's crying is the wetness beneath his palm. "It was just a dream, you're safe."
He sees the movement of Simon curling in on himself, and it makes his heart ache. He barely knows anything about his time in that submarine, but he does know that it must've been hell. And this confirms it, the full body shudders and hiccuping breaths.
"Can I hug you?" Grace asks, keeping his voice soft. "You look like you need one."
As soon as he nods, he wastes no time in wrapping his arms around his waist. Simon's head rests on his shoulder, and his hand comes up to cling to his shirt. Grace rubs his back gently, trying to calm his tremors.
"You're safe." he promises. "You're not there anymore."
Simon sniffles, scooting a little closer in his arms. He can feel his tears wet the collar of his shirt, but he honestly couldn't care less. He only cares that Simon's here, with him, alive and safe.
He leans his head against Simon's, tracing his fingertips up and down his spine. "Take some deep breaths, you're safe. You're gonna be okay. You're gonna be just fine."
A few deep breaths later, his choked back sobs turn to quiet sniffles and occasional hiccups. He hasn't let up his death grip on his shirt, and keeps his head against his shoulder. Grace doesn't mind.
"There you go." his hand stills and rests just between his shoulder blades. "You feel any better?"
He feels Simon nod against him.
"Do you want to talk about the dream?"
He shakes his head.
"Okay. I won't push then."
They stay like that for what has to be almost an hour. Simon eventually seems to fall asleep, breath deepening and fanning across his chest. Grace eventually tries to pull away to return to his own pod and give him his space, but even in his sleep, his grip on his shirt has barely loosened.
==========
Due to the lack of Simon's left arm, some things can be a struggle for him to do. It obviously bothers him severely, his brows furrowing and his lips pressing together tightly every time he has to do something that a second arm would be incredibly helpful thing to have.
One of these things seems to be showering.
"Simon, you okay in there?" Grace finds himself knocking on the bathroom door, having heard a chorus of "fucks" from inside.
"I, um…" his voice trails off, unsure. "It's a little hard to wash my hair sometimes."
"Do you want me to help?" realizing how odd and creepy that sounds, he scrambles to explain. "I mean it's completely up to you, we would technically be bathing together and that could be super awkward, the whole no clothes thing-"
"It's okay." Simon interrupts him. "It… would be nice to have some help."
"Oh, uh, really?" his face feels hot. "O-Okay, I'm coming in then."
Simon sits in the bathtub, half of his hair soaped up. He looks almost guilty, for needing the help that Grace is happy — awkwardly happy — to provide.
"Should I, uh…"
"Just get in here, you goof." he motions with his hand towards the bathtub.
Grace strips clumsily, tossing his clothes off to the side with Simon's. He squeezes into the tub next to him, the warm water splashing against his skin. He squirts some shampoo into his hand, rubs it between his palms, and reaches out to Simon.
Simon shifts so his back is to him, which makes things a great deal easier. It's still awkward, still painfully so, but he is glad that Simon's comfortable with him.
He works the shampoo into his hair, fingers massaging his scalp. Simon lets out a small sigh, leaning back against Grace's chest. He should feel awkward, having another man's naked body against his own, but the security of his weight and warmth is a much bigger feeling than the awkwardness in his chest.
He rinses the soap from his hair, then spreads the conditioner through the wet strands. The silence between them is comfortable, just like the water warming their bodies.
While the conditioner sets in, he uses a face cloth with a bit of body soap to wash his body. He's carefuller around his scars, not wanting to cause unnecessary pain or reopen any wounds.
"You do know I could do this part myself, right?" Simon says eventually, breaking the quiet between them.
"I know you could." Grace agrees. "But what if I want to do this for you?"
He looks at him with this funny look in his dark eyes, as if he can't believe he would want to do so. But he doesn't pull away or tell him to stop, and allows him to continue washing his body.
"Sometimes I miss Earth." Grace finds himself saying, just trying to fill the silence. "I mainly miss the food, we've managed to make a lot of the human food I like on Erid but it's still not the same. I didn't really have much friends or family, but I do miss human contact, you know? But now that you're here, I don't miss it as much."
"Why didn't you have many friends?" Simon asks quietly.
He shrugs. "I talk a lot and people find me annoying. Majority of people don't share my interests either, which are only really science and math and space."
Simon looks up at him from his spot still leaned against his chest. "I like listening to you talk."
"I, uh, thank you." he feels his face flush. "I've like listening to you too, now that you're talking more. You have a really nice voice."
He stares at him for a moment, before shifting to kneel between his legs, arms going around his neck loosely. Grace's heart skips a beat — and not in the positive way — immediately terrified that he was going to kiss him.
Instead, Simon just gently bumps his forehead with his, holding himself there with his eyes closed for a few seconds. He pulls back eventually, arms slipping from off his shoulders, and begins to get out of the tub.
==========
He's being pinned to the ground, there's dirt in his mouth, his hands clench at the dying grass, there's hands all over him, holding him down, no no no no no no his neck stings as the needle goes in-
"Ryland?" Simon's voice is just loud enough to wake him, eyes snapping open. His blurry face morphs in Stratt's, hair lightening to an orange-ish blonde.
Grace tries to twist away from him, but the sleeping pods only allow so much space. Simon is trying to calm him with words he can barely hear over the chaos in his head.
Seeming to realize his attempts at comfort are in vain, he just presses up against the opposite side of the pod, giving him as much space as possible. Grace pats around on the mattress, eventually finding his glasses and slipping them on. Simon's face comes into focus, Simon's, not Stratt's.
Before Grace can tell himself not to, he shoots forward and wraps his arms around Simon's torso, burying his face into his shoulder. Simon pauses for a second, before gently shifting both their bodies so they're lying down together, and slings his arm around Grace's waist in return.
Tears well up and then he's sniffling, unable to help himself. Simon's large hand rests on the small of his back, and his hair tickles Grace's nose. Silence sits between them like a blanket, both comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time.
Then, Simon begins to talk. About somewhere called Eden, his "brothers" there, the tree they treated like a god, Filament Station — the fourth and largest space station they had built — the run down shuttles they took between the stations. His voice wavers a few times on certain words, mainly the station and his brothers. He talks about the plants he's been taking care of and the stars outside their ship, how Grace has been his only friend in over a decade. How Grace means a lot more than just a friend to him, not in the way people would call romantic, but like he's become an essential part of him.
Grace calms slowly, his voice grounding him to what was happening now, reminding him that the past is in past and he can't change anything that happened. Simon's arm around him and the warmth of his body next to him soothes his shaky sniffles and sobs, allowing him to relax against him.
Simon doesn't make him reply in any way, verbal or not. He just lets him take things at his own pace. Eventually, Grace pulls back just enough to lean his forehead against his, just like Simon did in the bath just a week earlier.
"I think saving you was the one thing I did right in my life." he whispers.